I Forgot the Alfredo Sauce My Mother Requested, but Managed to Made a Cheddar/Parmesan Sauce for the Linguini that was Even Better

Looking at the forecast, it's probably best to travel in sun and not snow. I'll be departing Syracuse today, after attending a ceremony for Peter Caroli at St. Rose of Lima in North Syracuse. It is a beautiful church and respectful ceremony for a jokester, and the family man, with tremendous faith.

Once again, an event without an incident for Dad...just a smooth opportunity to show respect.

Returned dad, made them lunch, then headed to Price Chopper to cash in lottery tickets and get groceries they needed. I also picked up chicken thighs, mushrooms, a lemon, and the rest of ingredients were in the fridge and cabinets. Long story short, we had garlic lemon chicken with Alfredo sauce I made with heavy cream and cheeses. It was a delicious meal. I went for flavor over appearance, and I was satisfied.

Karal got cousin Max and Lucy time (with Duck, of course) and returned home to sleep alongside dad on the couch. Then, an evening of Bobbie Flay with my mom. 

Back to CT I must go once again (and I'm returning to Rob Cameron's book Daydreamer.

 

Two Looks for Central New York: (1) the Look Karal Gives While Staring at Me for 4.5 Hours and (2) the Look of the Outdoor Scene Upon Arrival

It cracks me up how Karal goes into the same position every time she realizes we are heading to Syracuse. She props her head on the door handle and stares at me, occasionally nodding off, only to wake up and give the same look It cracks me up. And she remains this way until we get off at Caughdenoy Road, in which she begins crying in desperate anticipation of seeing the grandparents. She runs upstairs, gives them love, and then settles into a safe, and calm routine, hopping to be with which ever parent will pet her, feed her, or keep her warm.

Last night, leaving Pete's funeral, I received notification that Sally Harper, from my Brown School days, passed. What a personality...I'll have to write more when I get to Connecticut and can go through my albums of the Brown School and working with the Lille Skole near Roskilde, Danmark. Those were hilarious times and trips. She brought funk, humor, and a reason to need a harness. She was absolutely wild and hilarious. 

The snow is trickling lightly now, but it came down pretty hard last night, as the day began snow blowing what the plows missed (and doing the neighbors' driveways because that is what dad does, even through Mom buys his plowing services.

Although the circumstances weren't a happy occasion, it was wonderful to see Peter Boy and Jimmy again. Also great to see Mrs. Caroli, Stephanie, the grandkids and ol' neighbors. Strange how there aren't other occasions to bring people together over more joyful celebrations.

Dad and I will head to St. Rose of Lima to attend the church ceremony before Peter is laid to rest in the cemetery. So many emotions and just as many memories from Cherry Heights yesteryear. And both parental units made it to the wake and back without any incidences. Hoorah for the littlest achievements.

Today should be a grocery run, perhaps a good dinner, and some restocking of the old stomping grounds. Classes begin next week and I need to get on top of the tsunami of a return. 2025 has had a wonky start, but I'm counting the blessings while I have them. 

Obviously I Am Thinking Of the Carolis, Cherry Heights, Bamm Hollow, Childhood, My Parents, and My Childhood Friend, Peter

Central New York's sexiest Uber driver…I’m Heading to Denver and Mr. Caroli came to the rescue (like he used to when I needed a ride to little league practice). Appreciate this man so much....a 2nd father…it took many, many hands to raise the kids of Cherry Heights. ~ May, 2022 

My mother called me last week and shared the news that Pete Caroli had a heart attack and passed. Like her, I was shocked, simply because it was unexpected. I think I've prepared myself to hear many variations of possible stories that can come from her calls, but I wasn't expecting this. I texted Peter Boy, then began making arrangements so I could be in Syracuse for services today and the funeral tomorrow. I always celebrate my visits back to Syracuse and Cherry Height, and they always include walks by the Carolis home, hopes they're outside, or visits when they're walking by my parents. There are so many decades spent together on these neighborhood streets.

I can't pass Duncowing without imagining football and baseball games with Peter, Jim, Bobbie, and Mike. The wiffle ball tournaments on the side of the house were also amazing, and the gang of us used to ride our ten-speeds all over the place for pick-up games in other fields, mall visits, & A&W Two-for Tuesday (we took our bikes where we weren't allowed to be). 

It was three years ago when I had a retreat in Denver, Colorado, and I needed a dog-sitter, so drove to Syracuse to get my flight from there. The problem was, we took my father's car keys away years ago and mom stopped driving, so there weren't wheels at their home. Cynde was tied up that day, so mom reached out and Pete saved the day. Super Dad. Super Neighbor. Another precious being from our neighborhood.

All of my childhood memories resonate from Amalfi Drive, Duncowing, and  Bamm Hollow. Somebody's parents were always taking us somewhere from those three locations: games, parks, arenas, food. Big Pete only requested one thing - a good back massage while he was watching t.v..  I think it is even more amazing that my father, Butch, and Pete shared 60+ years of friendship, beginning with Mohawk and Allegheny Airlines in Utica, New York, then transitioning to Syracuse where it would eventually be USAIR. There were afternoons at the Clam Bar, a retirement party there, and kitchen-table conversations (in fact, my memories of their frustration with upper management where they worked - ha, we all know that now, because we're the adults). I forget how much our worlds intertwined, sharing the Utica/Syracuse connection. I ran around with Peter Boy, so never made the mature connection that our parents had a history, too. I know. I know. Mom & Stephanie, Pete's mom, shared their fantasy life in Salem with Alice and Marlena, but I didn't connect the Butch and Pete connection, too. Their stories.

Except Friday breakfast at a diner in North Syracuse. It was a tradition, and even as my father has grown into a habit of a later wake-time, on breakfast days he was up to meet Pete. All the years I lived in Louisville, I knew while in Syracuse, I'd go with Dad to see Pete. Of course, I also saw Pete in the neighborhood (they were just down the street).

And the first thing I thought of as mom shared the news was Pete's childhood teasing, where he always told Cynde, Casey, and I that dad hid all his money in milk cans he buried in the backyard. I still think about this, years later, curios if my dad did bury all his money in cans out back. We always wondered where it went. 

Years go by, foundations are set, Peter Boy, Elaine, Casey, and I all ended up in schools one way or another, a teacher like Stephanie (a St. Rose of Lima shining star). Stephanie posted a picture of a younger Pete coaching a girl's basketball team at St. Rose and I began to see the comments from classmates I graduated with who played for him. That was Pete. A coach. I was amazed how long Peter continued to play softball way after retirement. At times, Dad and I would go to see him play. 

My mother saw this picture, too, and wrote,

What a beautiful memory captured in this picture……..one of so many! In processing this sad news I have realized that the Crandall family could write a book about our lives with the Caroli family. Butch worked side by side with Peter through all 40 years with Mohawk, Allegheny and USAirways from the Oneida County Airport to commuting to Syracuse, then settling in Cherry Heights in Clay, retiring, then meeting for breakfast once a week to keep up on current events. We have shared graduation parties, weddings, showers, and many Airline parties that always started out with cocktails at the Caroli residence. Our kids grew up together. Whenever I heard a really good joke, I would pass it on to Pete as he had a way about him that made him known as a storyteller. Pete was a wonderful friend and will truly be missed! Our thoughts and prayers are with you. May your wonderful memories sustain and comfort you! 

I also have a memory from when Mr. Caroli had hernia surgery. Peter Boy and I had to help him around the house and I remember his feisty remarks when we had to help him to the bathroom. I don't remember how young I was, just that I couldn't imagine having any kind of groin surgery, let alone imagine the pain that would cause. Well, I channeled Pete both times I've had hernia surgery in my 40s (with a surgeon warning me I'll like have several more because I have the groin of a 98 year-old man, she says). I remember also thinking, "Phew. that was fast. How am I now the age Pete and Butch were when we were just kids?"

Last night, Syracuse played Louisville, and I thought about the time Peter Boy and I went to Louisville to see a game. We both had free flights because of our fathers working for the airlines, but this meant we often didn't get to accomplish trips we set out to do because we flew stand-by. For that trip, we were successful (and I think this was our feathered-hair phase before entering high school).

I am back in Syracuse to pay my respects. I knew Cynde would need help getting them there, and I knew being there for the Carolis is what I needed to do. No brainer. As I said last night to my parents, "We're all family. And family is there for one another when it counts."

Here's to a great man...a 2nd father...and an on-demand Uber driver when one is needed. My heart goes out to the family, especially Stephanie. I'm hoping the gift of memories finds their hearts sooner than later.

This time it was one of the good ones. Phew.

Hoping to Finish the Last Three Hours of Percival Everett's JAMES on My Return to Syracuse Today - Definitely One of the Better Books I've Read in My Adult Life

Dave Wooley rarely moves in the wrong direction. When he suggested James by Percival Everett, I put it in my to be read list, which ended up becoming my holiday book upon my return to Syracuse (as I listened to James Bird's No Place Like Home first (which was also an incredible middle-grade book that I can't recommend enough). 

Percival Everett's writing is brilliant, clever, well-thought out, and poignant. I was hooked from the first chapter and it's really all I can think about...a retelling of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, but with more intelligence, wonderings, and historicizing than the original. With every pages comes additional thinking, especially given the knee-jerk, anti-truth telling of the U.S. society today. I would hope this would become a paired text across American Studies classrooms where teachers offer the classic today. I thought about this a lot, too, while in New Orleans and traveling the jazz steam boat and all the history such boats have in the south along rivers. In some ways, it reminded me of Buffalo Dance: The Journey of Clark which offers a poetic narration of the Lewis and Clark exhibition. As a reader I want to be challenged and educated, which both texts accomplish.

Monday was a good day to deliver cooked food, attend an eye appointment (new glasses ordered), and to visit with the Aliceas and introduced to their history of photos. I'm also thankful for Pam's re-rendition of the pot roast, carrots, and potatoes for night two. I didn't save any food I cooked for me, so Pam saved the day.

I'm heading back to CNY today and with that comes tonights Louisville at Syracuse game Hmmmm. I wonder if I can get tickets. The trip also comes with returned temperatures below 30. Ugh. I'm an above-freezing kind-of guy. 

Yet, off I go, looking forward to the completion of Everett's book, although I hoped to knock it off on the screw-ball road trip in Florida, which turned into a long weekend in New Orleans. Needless to say, the plane seat and knee-jab was too uncomfortable to appreciate a book (the guy ahead of me leaned back and, as a result, I had no lap either to New Orleans or upon the return). 

Sun's supposed to be out today, so here we go....

I Achieved My Goal and Baked a Cake and Cooked a Pan-Fried, Mushroom & Spinach Chicken Dish for the Alicea Family.

Sundays are for football, but also for cooking, and although I didn't cook for myself, I did cook for a friend who lost her father (and left it to Pam to cook for me...and Bev...a pot roast that was delicious). I fried chicken thighs with garlic and onion, adding thyme and parsley, peppers, and then made a cream sauce that can easily be heated up. I also made a Crandall cake and the ganache is resting in the refrigerator to be spread on the cake. 

I worked on a second syllabi, did laundry, walked the dog quite a distance, and reflected on 2025 bringing forward too many losses. Life is about beginnings and endings, but when the endings come so abundantly, it stumps you a little to figure out what it's all supposed to mean. 

I am simply hoping that my time in the kitchen relieves some of the stress of arranging a funeral, contending with family from out of town, and trying to figure out what everyone is supposed to eat. I didn't succeed with dry tomatoes, but did my best with tomatoes I had in the fridge. 

Pam made incredible potatoes and carrots, and a nice load of bread, that was out of this world for a Sunday dinner. Yes, they're calling for another arctic blast (I can hardly wait). If I can get a long walk in everyday, I'm good to go. When I can't mood, I get grumpy. 

I definitely give and feel love through the food I cook (and are cooked for me). If such effort brings even the slighted smile, then I know it is a good deed in the end. 

Congratulations to the Bills for winning once again. Let's hope they keep the energy moving forward. I will decorate the cake, see my optometrist, and then plan a trip to Syracuse for Wednesday and Thursday (a return that means a lot to me...childhood, meets adolescence, meets adulthood). 

Phew. Bring on the 50s they said. Yep, the 50s are something, indeed. 

I Think Karal is Over This Winter Garbage, But I Have to Be Honest With Her, It's Just the Beginning of This Season

I spent the day working on syllabi, in preparation for the first week, and then went out to dinner with the Chair of the English Department at the Whiskey Barrel, then headed to the Irish Club of Milford to meet Bev, Leo, Sharon, and others for Over Easy, the 60s and 70s cover band. If my stomach wasn't so full from dinner, I might have danced.

I received a text from Jessy, however, while out that her father who was put into hospice a couple of weeks ago, had passed this evening. This, too, came after hearing Eileen, my R&T partner in crime, lost her mother. 2025 is not being good to so many I love and know. Too much loss in such a short time. It seems a little overwhelming.

Karal and I got a long walk in, but she spent most of the days under blankets feeling cold.

I also lost the syllabi I was working on do to my failure to save it before I closed out (which was my stupidity). 

I plan to use this Sunday to cook for the Alicea as they prepare for family to come to celebrate the life of Jessy's father. My last memory with him was when we helped Jessy move into her knew Condo and built furniture for her, although he was told, "Slow down. Crandall's got this."

Also caught the Louisville game for a win, and Syracuse did the job, too. Tis the season of NCAA Basketball to help us ride these stay-inside weeks.

Okay, Sunday...day of rest...perhaps that should be a priority. Ah, but I'm thinking of others, the heaviness of it all, and will do what I can. It's the least we can do. Phew. 

Well, One Good Thing About Coming Upon a Parking Lot on I-95 is The Ability to Turn Right Around and Work From Home

When I got to the ramp, I thought, "Nope. Not today, and I turned the Hulk right back around and decided to work on CWP summer work from home. The one thing Covid taught me is that wasting time in traffic is nothing but a waste of time in traffic. More is accomplished from avoiding it all together. 

So, I set procedures ahead for CWP summer programs and now await the registration to open. I don't think we'll have a teacher institute this summer, but instead I will return to teaching EDUC 5411 in the Fall for students who need the writing course. We're set for 2025, the 12th year of Young Adult Literacy Labs, and I also filled out a survey for a story to be released by the Office of Research and Grants later this year (their writer is departing the University, and it's one of the last goals she wanted to accomplish before her departure.

I was thankful the temperatures went above freezing, as it was easier to take Karal on a longer walk without hurting deep in the bones. It was also inviting to get a pizza and run it to Pam's for a Friday night gathering to end the frantic work week. I'm going to try hard not to have 14-hour days every day this spring, although that's hard given the job I have to do. I need more mental time off than I've had in the past. I feel the aging and exhaustion more now than ever. 

Also, thankful to Abu Bility for giving me the iconic frog photo, a gift that keeps on giving. We've also been working on Kids-Day-Out in collaboration with the Women's Basketball program later this month. Our Stag-azine is almost done. 

Here's to sleeping in and having the weekend free.