Category: Nostalgia

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Because I Said So

What a smart guy!

I dreaded those four words. Separately they weren’t so bad. I could adjust to them if they were attached to other words, but when they were put together, back to back, they inspired a sense of helplessness, of uncertainty, and mostly of frustration. And, ironically, I heard them more often than not the older I got, whenever I asked my mother a question. Because I said so.

You’ve heard it before. You’ve probably even used it before. Believe me, I have. But have you ever really stopped and wondered why parents tend to rely on this classic gem when answering their children’s fervent questions?

“Mom, how come I have to take my shoes off in the house?” Continue reading “Because I Said So”

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The Six Hundredth

Six hundred is a lot. Don’t think I don’t know and appreciate that, because I do. And I guess while in the process of writing 600 blog entries I didn’t really focus on the numbers. But I think when you get to 600 it’s probably about time to focus on the numbers. In fact, I honestly think I might go through a top 10 of the walk down memory lane,  for this, my 600th blog entry. First, though, I want to thank every single one of my followers, because this wouldn’t be nearly as fulfilling for me without you. Every single time someone writes to me telling me how they identify with what I’ve said is just bonus for me. I still can’t believe I started this blog less than a year ago and I’ve done so much with it, but the interactions are where it’s at. So, again, thank you. Now, on with the show…

From “The Dividing Line,”:

As I sit here with my children, I am trying to think about what life without them was like, and I truly can’t remember it. It’s like a dividing line between one entire existence and another, like I time traveled and skipped over that diving line to safely arrive right here and now, and with kids. I can vaguely remember a club, once, a long time ago, where I would dance all night, by myself. Or a karaoke joint, with “Love Shack”. And a puzzle club (yeah, I said a puzzle club) where I would imagine I was king (but I really wasn’t). And there was this guy. I’ll call him “Before Me”. He was one cool guy. Continue reading “The Six Hundredth”

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Black Irish

Black? And four leaves? Wow.

“Mr. McManus, are you really Irish?” my student asks skeptically, knowing as she does that every Irish person she’s ever seen has been white, and also knowing that I’m not even remotely white.

“Of course I am,” I reply, with a twinkle in my eye.

“But how can you be Irish?” she asks, trying not to say what everyone else in the class is thinking.

“Haven’t you heard of Black Irish?” I say, and it ends the debate. Continue reading “Black Irish”

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Friends Forever

Remember your high school yearbook where everyone, even the people you hardly ever talked to, just had to write in it and tell you how  absolutely amazing it was being your “friend” in school? And you were so excited because even though they hadn’t really been your friend, you knew you would be able to … Continue reading Friends Forever

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Road Tripping

I’m going on a picnic, and I’m taking asparagus, broccoli, carrots…

Yeah, right.

You know I’m really taking angel food cake, Bacardi, candy…

But usually I’m playing the game with my kids, and I want to make sure I’m leaving a good impression about vegetables instead of candy and other things I would ordinarily bring on an adult-type picnic. These are the types of games we play in the car on road trips, or at least they were until technology interfered. Or, I should say, until I let technology interfere. That’s the glory of road trips. We can go old school if we want, just to remind ourselves of how the days of yore went by. Continue reading “Road Tripping”

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Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection

This one’s a classic.

When I was young, I couldn’t stand my sister, Joy, for a multitude of reasons. First, she was older than me, so she felt like she could lord it over me from sunup till sundown. Secondly, she was outgoing so she made friends easily, which was something I was hard-pressed to do. In fact, my only real friend from birth until eighth grade was one boy who I thought felt sorry for me, or some of my sister’s friends who also seemed to feel bad for me.

Because she was older than me (by fifteen months), Joy was always in the grade ahead of mine, and because we went to a small school where each grade level was taught by one teacher, she would always get the same teachers right before I got there. And saying that Joy was good in school was a massive understatement. I lost count of all the times, on the first day of each school year, when the teacher would look at me, look at my last name on the sheet, and have this look on his/her face that said, “Oh, you’re HER brother!” Then, when I wasn’t as motivated as she was, they would shake their heads and make tsking sounds, like I had disappointed them. Continue reading “Brotherly Love and Sisterly Affection”