Carefully
concealed behind sport coats and neatly pressed pants trying not to accidentally step
on the perfectly polished loafers, I wait as quietly as possible. My heart pounds in my throat and excitement
has made my mouth dry with anticipation.
I worry that my shallow breaths will be heard, so I try holding my
breath to no avail. Then I hear muffled
voices which reassure me my location will be detected at any moment. Footsteps creep closer and closer. The closet door is quickly opened and we both
shout, “BOO!” My Papa is home from work
once again.
Thursday, January 23, 2014
Monday, January 20, 2014
The Yellow Banana
I was an anxious child.
That is an understatement at best, but the truth is I was super anxious about most situations. One of my biggest dilemmas was going to sleep at night. And if you think that was an issue, it was only exacerbated by sleeping away from home. I practically never spent the night away from home, unless we were on vacation as a family. However, my sister and I did spend the night at my Grandma and Grandpa Riske's about once a month when our parents were working in their band, the Knight Kats.
As bedtime approached, my Grandpa would pull out the bed from the davenport (their terminology) in the red room (it was called red because of the red shag carpet it bestowed for many years of my childhood). Then my Grandma would put sheets on the bed and get blankets and pillows to make it all comfy. That bed was so uncomfortable, especially if you laid incorrectly (which was very easy to do). There were bars that lined the mattress, and they stabbed in my back and side no matter which way I would turn. Then there were the areas on either side of the bed where the arms of the davenport. Grandma would shove pillows or other things in them because she was worried that we would fall in the cracks during the night.
One night I was having a particular difficult time falling asleep. No matter how much Grandma rubbed my back, I couldn't fall asleep. The figure eight, the three taps, nothing seemed to bring on sleep. Then my Grandpa brought in a large, stuffed, yellow banana. It was nothing special, but it seemed huge to me. Just a simple yellow banana stuffed toy with the Dole label on it. It was like this one:
fs!CnDQ~~60_35.JPG)
And believe it, or not, this was just the thing that worked! It became the one thing that had to accompany me to bed each night. I called it - The Yellow Banana. Not especially creative, but pretty much spot on with the name.
The banana stayed with me throughout my life. When Zoe was a baby and Evie was on the way, we put her in a big-girl bed. I found The Yellow Banana in a box and it looked a bit more tattered than it had when I was younger. I also had to remove the label because it was falling off. However, it was the perfect solution to stopping Zoe from rolling off the bed. Years later she still has to have the banana taking up the space between the wall and the mattress.
I did a bit of research today, because of course Evie wants her own banana. The banana was an advertising promotion from Dole, most likely from the 60s or 70s. In later years the banana became a character named Bobby and often sported tennis shoes, a cane, and a top hat.
How did my grandparents obtain this little gem? I have no idea. But what matters the most is the magic contained in that stuffed toy. It brought many nights of quick sleep for myself, and now for my Zoe. When I asked my Grandpa where it came from, he simply said, "The attic." A mystery for certain. But I do know that sleep in our family would be quite different without The Yellow Banana.
That is an understatement at best, but the truth is I was super anxious about most situations. One of my biggest dilemmas was going to sleep at night. And if you think that was an issue, it was only exacerbated by sleeping away from home. I practically never spent the night away from home, unless we were on vacation as a family. However, my sister and I did spend the night at my Grandma and Grandpa Riske's about once a month when our parents were working in their band, the Knight Kats.
As bedtime approached, my Grandpa would pull out the bed from the davenport (their terminology) in the red room (it was called red because of the red shag carpet it bestowed for many years of my childhood). Then my Grandma would put sheets on the bed and get blankets and pillows to make it all comfy. That bed was so uncomfortable, especially if you laid incorrectly (which was very easy to do). There were bars that lined the mattress, and they stabbed in my back and side no matter which way I would turn. Then there were the areas on either side of the bed where the arms of the davenport. Grandma would shove pillows or other things in them because she was worried that we would fall in the cracks during the night.
One night I was having a particular difficult time falling asleep. No matter how much Grandma rubbed my back, I couldn't fall asleep. The figure eight, the three taps, nothing seemed to bring on sleep. Then my Grandpa brought in a large, stuffed, yellow banana. It was nothing special, but it seemed huge to me. Just a simple yellow banana stuffed toy with the Dole label on it. It was like this one:
The banana stayed with me throughout my life. When Zoe was a baby and Evie was on the way, we put her in a big-girl bed. I found The Yellow Banana in a box and it looked a bit more tattered than it had when I was younger. I also had to remove the label because it was falling off. However, it was the perfect solution to stopping Zoe from rolling off the bed. Years later she still has to have the banana taking up the space between the wall and the mattress.
I did a bit of research today, because of course Evie wants her own banana. The banana was an advertising promotion from Dole, most likely from the 60s or 70s. In later years the banana became a character named Bobby and often sported tennis shoes, a cane, and a top hat.
How did my grandparents obtain this little gem? I have no idea. But what matters the most is the magic contained in that stuffed toy. It brought many nights of quick sleep for myself, and now for my Zoe. When I asked my Grandpa where it came from, he simply said, "The attic." A mystery for certain. But I do know that sleep in our family would be quite different without The Yellow Banana.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Pals Forever
Born to German immigrants, Raymond Henry Riske took his first breath on Wednesday, August 21, 1918. He grew up in Detroit, Michigan during the roaring 20s and the depression of the 30s. His folks rented homes on Joseph Campau and Hendricks Street, however, unfortunately, neither home has stood the test of time.
His father, Emil, had been a nurse in the Navy during the Spanish American War, and he was a factory man during Ray’s life. His mother, Anna, loved animals especially dogs. There were at least four or five dogs who ate dinner outside their home each night. Bob, who was a German Shepard, eventually became the family dog. Bob had an amazing temperament. He would allow the chickens from the house next door to walk on his back, but he would chase the birds away from the garden.
Ray loved to help his mom with her daily chores, and they would always go to the local theater to see the latest movie. Ray loved movies and he also built his own radio when he was a boy. He listened to shows like The Green Hornet and Amos and Andy, and loved the crooning of Bing Crosby. Years later, Ray would whistle around the house and do a fabulous Bing interpretation as well. In fact, when I was a little girl I decided I would marry Bing (that is after I found out Popeye and Casper were cartoons and therefore not real) but to my chagrin my grandma informed me that Bing was not a nice husband and that in fact he was also dead.
Ray attended Cass Technical School, where he makes certain to add was the only high school in Detroit to have an airplane in the top floor. He also quite often stated, “when I attended all the teachers wrote the textbooks.” In fact, his Chemistry teacher was Mrs. Lindbergh, the mother of famous aviator Charles A. Lindbergh. Even though Ray was never very fond of school, he loved to read books about ships and detective adventures.
Ray could tell one story over and over again: his courtship and love of Ardis Sherman. Even almost twelve years after her passing, Ray would still gets misty-eyed when he heard a favorite song “Every Day of My Life,” by the McGuire Sisters. Theirs was a marriage of true love and happiness right up until the end. Only having one child, Cheryl, Ray never felt he needed more.
In fact, Ray was the most positive and optimistic person when it came to his life and his overall health. He was quick to share with others, “I can’t complain,” when asked about how he was doing. He also was very handy with making contractions and knew how to fix almost anything. I think the most impressive thing he made was a holder for the Atari remote controllers. You could sit and use the controller without stress to your hands. In many cases I believe Ray could have patented his inventions, and helped make the world a more enjoyable place to live.
No matter what Ray was to others, he was my Pal. I will never forget the first day I called him Pal. It was his birthday and my grandma and I were getting the cake ready. She wanted to know what to put on as his name (Ray, dad, grandpa), and I said, “Pal.” I felt that Pal encompassed all the titles he held. And Ray was truly my Pal in every sense of the word. He listened to all my woes, and was always there to share a Coke and eat whatever candy was in the red-room cabinet.
I remember spending mornings after sleepovers asking him to explain how a light-bulb worked, or how pillows were made, or how the energy got from the plug to the TV. I also remember asking him about the olden golden day decorations at our favorite restaurant: The Forge. As we ate crunchy bread sticks waiting for our salads with blue-cheese dressing and our dinners of frog’s legs, Ray shared with me the names and uses of anything I asked about. And honestly, I don’t have a clue whether he knew the real answer or not, but his answers were the truth to me. I remember washing his car, mowing the lawn, shining shoes, sorting nails in his immaculate garage, tinkering at his workbench and finding things in their basement fruit cellar (which was always overstocked with can goods). I loved singing with his dog, Misty, while she begged for a cherry from his Manhattan and dressing her up with Ray’s neck ties. I also remember hiding in the coat closet when he came home from work. I would yell, “boo,” and he would always pretend to get scared.
We always had a close relationship from little on. He even named one of his backyard roses “Michelle” after its name tag got lost. I also remember him patching up boo-boos; especially the one he patched after he let go of the bike when I was just learning to ride. There was a big bump in the sidewalk that I hit on a bad angle. I remember him apologizing time and time again, to which I had already forgiven him for letting go. There was also another time we were all playing with sparklers and my mom had insisted I didn't touch the hot end of the stick. Of course when my Pal came to retrieve the stick I took the hot end in my hand to give him the cool end, because I didn't want to burn him. Boy was that a bad choice.
We spent every summer up at Houghton Lake with my grandparents. Ray used to take a morning walk to get the newspaper, and I would accompany him around the small village. Once my sister, Kelly, was old enough she came along too. The best part of the walk was the spooky old house we all decided we would live in one day. Each summer vacation was not complete without seeing the spooky old house. It couldn't have been all that spooky, because we decided that we would buy the house and each live in a separate area. On one walk we actually went right up to the house and peered in the windows. All we saw were boxes and the like, but we sure got each other scared. The following summer the house was gone; apparently torn down due to the sign that said “CONDEMNED.”
Ray loved music and taught me some really silly songs when I was a kid. My favorites were: The Peanut Song (choo choo peanut butter), Show Me the Way to Go Home (think I had a drink about an hour ago), and Bring Them In (which I had to learn how to roll my tongue to sing the song properly). Ray also had the most amazing record collection and oftentimes let me borrow one to listen to at home. My favorite was Evita because I had a huge crush on Mandy Patinkin and there were pictures in the fold-out album cover. Ray also loved Abba, and gave me the Voulez-Vous album when I was four, “To my No.1 Granddaughter,” it said. He also gave me a 45 of Boy George’s “Mistake Number 3”. We loved to watch The Lawrence Welk Show together, and we would try to tap dance like Arthur Duncan, which usually ended in a ton of laughter. Ray also had an affinity for the Puccini opera “Madama Butterfly.” We watched a video of the Placido Domingo production, which in fact was my first experience with opera. I know he was so proud of my when I was part of the Michigan Opera Theater’s production of Verdi’s Aida.
Ray also loved tape recording stuff. He enjoyed having my sister and I sing or talk into a microphone. Once he decided to tape record himself reading books to my sister and I, because he saw it on a morning show. I can still hear, “Now, turn the page.” He always tape recorded Christmas with my family, from the moment we entered the door until all presents were unwrapped. The laughter, the anticipation, the excitement, and the inevitable bratty selfish behavior from my sister and I that would ensue at some point.
I had a very difficult time with friends and dealing with daily bullying, but no matter what happened at school I always had a friend in Ray. He was always there for a Coke and a candybar. Quite possibly not the healthiest way to deal with sadness, but then again who doesn’t love chocolate? Inspired by a song sung in school, “Love Sidney,” I wrote a song for Ray called, “Pal’s Forever.” And Ray was my biggest fan when it came to singing and performing.
Ray had his own words for things: han-ga-burgers were hamburgers, pis-sketti was spaghetti, and The Corner was the restaurant by his house. He also never could keep names straight and thus was known to call people “Charlie” or “Guy” so not to embarrass himself. He also could not spell and would spell things phonetically. However, since I’m a terrible speller, I hardly seemed to notice.
I spent many evenings watching TV with my grandparents. I just sat there and spent time enjoying laughs and tears. Once I was older and married and once my grandma Ardis passed away, Ray and I continued our life-long friendship. We spent hours shopping at Target and Kmart (two of his favorite stores). However, we would always start with BLT combo lunches at Leons (which included fries and soup) and we would always end the time together with drinks at Starbucks. In fact, I got him hooked on mocha frappuccinos, while I drank my triple venti soy lattes. We talked about everything; from “soup to nuts” he would always say.
In the summer of 2003, Ray took my husband, Jim, and I to Traverse City for a vacation. We spent the time playing cards, talking, and having fun drinking Manhattans and eating out. Ray always woke before us and had the table set for breakfast and had coffee percolating in the background. I never could believe how young he was for someone in his 80s. He walked a mile to see the Sleeping Bear Dunes and he made us laugh by joining Jim and I to watch silly reality TV in the recreational room at the campsite. I will also never forget the wine tasting that left all three of us inebriated, and Ray encouraging me to go in on a case of wine with him. Not quite certain if I’ll ever be able to enjoy raspberry wine again.
Once Zoe came, Ray worried our Friday lunches would be over. But we just brought Zoe along for the ride. He relished in spending time with a baby, and I’ll never forget how he ran up and down the aisle-way with Zoe at Foot Locker while I found a good pair of walking shoes. He even babysat Zoe while I went through my clothes closet, and kept her busy for an hour. Thus, naturally once Eva came we both rolled a cart while shopping. My girls were so lucky to have a relationship with their Papa Ray, who joined us for breakfast and grocery shopping every Friday and enjoyed chocolates and Cokes with us on Wednesday afternoons. When Ray was in rehab, I brought Eva alone on two separate occasions. She showed Papa Ray how she could spell (getting ready for her weekly spelling test) and then played a few songs on the piano by ear. He loved my girls and was so proud of them.
Everyone who came in contact with my grandpa Ray was an instant friend of his - he was just that charismatic. He had friends all over the place (restaurants, Kroger, church, etc.), and his heart was willing to accept more. It is not surprising that this only child (his siblings died at birth) bloomed the moment he was in the center of a group of people. He was fantastic at telling stories about his life - some true and others not so much. But it never really mattered, because his smile and personality sold people every time.
Ray also continued my grandma’s charitable donations to a wide variety of organizations. I had never seen as many gifts as he would receive as thank yous for his donations. Greeting cards, calendars, notepads, stickers, blankets, address labels and calculators only name a few of the many presents he received.
Even up to the end of his Earthly life, Ray never lost his positive spirit. He made certain to let us know he was doing fine and that it was “neat” that we were there to spend time with him. He shared with me a long journey through a beautiful landscape with beautiful blue flowers and lush foliage only a couple of days before his spirit left the earth. Being able to hold his hand throughout this journey meant so much to me; however my special friendship with Ray has been one of the greatest joys in my life. Ray lived each day with gusto, with no regrets, and with the admiration of everyone he met. I hope to be able to emulate that as much as possible as I enter a new year of my life.
Ray was a jack-of-all-trades and touched many lives in his 95 years. However, he is and always will be my Pal Forever.
His father, Emil, had been a nurse in the Navy during the Spanish American War, and he was a factory man during Ray’s life. His mother, Anna, loved animals especially dogs. There were at least four or five dogs who ate dinner outside their home each night. Bob, who was a German Shepard, eventually became the family dog. Bob had an amazing temperament. He would allow the chickens from the house next door to walk on his back, but he would chase the birds away from the garden.
Ray loved to help his mom with her daily chores, and they would always go to the local theater to see the latest movie. Ray loved movies and he also built his own radio when he was a boy. He listened to shows like The Green Hornet and Amos and Andy, and loved the crooning of Bing Crosby. Years later, Ray would whistle around the house and do a fabulous Bing interpretation as well. In fact, when I was a little girl I decided I would marry Bing (that is after I found out Popeye and Casper were cartoons and therefore not real) but to my chagrin my grandma informed me that Bing was not a nice husband and that in fact he was also dead.
Ray attended Cass Technical School, where he makes certain to add was the only high school in Detroit to have an airplane in the top floor. He also quite often stated, “when I attended all the teachers wrote the textbooks.” In fact, his Chemistry teacher was Mrs. Lindbergh, the mother of famous aviator Charles A. Lindbergh. Even though Ray was never very fond of school, he loved to read books about ships and detective adventures.
Ray could tell one story over and over again: his courtship and love of Ardis Sherman. Even almost twelve years after her passing, Ray would still gets misty-eyed when he heard a favorite song “Every Day of My Life,” by the McGuire Sisters. Theirs was a marriage of true love and happiness right up until the end. Only having one child, Cheryl, Ray never felt he needed more.
In fact, Ray was the most positive and optimistic person when it came to his life and his overall health. He was quick to share with others, “I can’t complain,” when asked about how he was doing. He also was very handy with making contractions and knew how to fix almost anything. I think the most impressive thing he made was a holder for the Atari remote controllers. You could sit and use the controller without stress to your hands. In many cases I believe Ray could have patented his inventions, and helped make the world a more enjoyable place to live.
No matter what Ray was to others, he was my Pal. I will never forget the first day I called him Pal. It was his birthday and my grandma and I were getting the cake ready. She wanted to know what to put on as his name (Ray, dad, grandpa), and I said, “Pal.” I felt that Pal encompassed all the titles he held. And Ray was truly my Pal in every sense of the word. He listened to all my woes, and was always there to share a Coke and eat whatever candy was in the red-room cabinet.
I remember spending mornings after sleepovers asking him to explain how a light-bulb worked, or how pillows were made, or how the energy got from the plug to the TV. I also remember asking him about the olden golden day decorations at our favorite restaurant: The Forge. As we ate crunchy bread sticks waiting for our salads with blue-cheese dressing and our dinners of frog’s legs, Ray shared with me the names and uses of anything I asked about. And honestly, I don’t have a clue whether he knew the real answer or not, but his answers were the truth to me. I remember washing his car, mowing the lawn, shining shoes, sorting nails in his immaculate garage, tinkering at his workbench and finding things in their basement fruit cellar (which was always overstocked with can goods). I loved singing with his dog, Misty, while she begged for a cherry from his Manhattan and dressing her up with Ray’s neck ties. I also remember hiding in the coat closet when he came home from work. I would yell, “boo,” and he would always pretend to get scared.
We always had a close relationship from little on. He even named one of his backyard roses “Michelle” after its name tag got lost. I also remember him patching up boo-boos; especially the one he patched after he let go of the bike when I was just learning to ride. There was a big bump in the sidewalk that I hit on a bad angle. I remember him apologizing time and time again, to which I had already forgiven him for letting go. There was also another time we were all playing with sparklers and my mom had insisted I didn't touch the hot end of the stick. Of course when my Pal came to retrieve the stick I took the hot end in my hand to give him the cool end, because I didn't want to burn him. Boy was that a bad choice.
We spent every summer up at Houghton Lake with my grandparents. Ray used to take a morning walk to get the newspaper, and I would accompany him around the small village. Once my sister, Kelly, was old enough she came along too. The best part of the walk was the spooky old house we all decided we would live in one day. Each summer vacation was not complete without seeing the spooky old house. It couldn't have been all that spooky, because we decided that we would buy the house and each live in a separate area. On one walk we actually went right up to the house and peered in the windows. All we saw were boxes and the like, but we sure got each other scared. The following summer the house was gone; apparently torn down due to the sign that said “CONDEMNED.”
Ray loved music and taught me some really silly songs when I was a kid. My favorites were: The Peanut Song (choo choo peanut butter), Show Me the Way to Go Home (think I had a drink about an hour ago), and Bring Them In (which I had to learn how to roll my tongue to sing the song properly). Ray also had the most amazing record collection and oftentimes let me borrow one to listen to at home. My favorite was Evita because I had a huge crush on Mandy Patinkin and there were pictures in the fold-out album cover. Ray also loved Abba, and gave me the Voulez-Vous album when I was four, “To my No.1 Granddaughter,” it said. He also gave me a 45 of Boy George’s “Mistake Number 3”. We loved to watch The Lawrence Welk Show together, and we would try to tap dance like Arthur Duncan, which usually ended in a ton of laughter. Ray also had an affinity for the Puccini opera “Madama Butterfly.” We watched a video of the Placido Domingo production, which in fact was my first experience with opera. I know he was so proud of my when I was part of the Michigan Opera Theater’s production of Verdi’s Aida.
Ray also loved tape recording stuff. He enjoyed having my sister and I sing or talk into a microphone. Once he decided to tape record himself reading books to my sister and I, because he saw it on a morning show. I can still hear, “Now, turn the page.” He always tape recorded Christmas with my family, from the moment we entered the door until all presents were unwrapped. The laughter, the anticipation, the excitement, and the inevitable bratty selfish behavior from my sister and I that would ensue at some point.
I had a very difficult time with friends and dealing with daily bullying, but no matter what happened at school I always had a friend in Ray. He was always there for a Coke and a candybar. Quite possibly not the healthiest way to deal with sadness, but then again who doesn’t love chocolate? Inspired by a song sung in school, “Love Sidney,” I wrote a song for Ray called, “Pal’s Forever.” And Ray was my biggest fan when it came to singing and performing.
Ray had his own words for things: han-ga-burgers were hamburgers, pis-sketti was spaghetti, and The Corner was the restaurant by his house. He also never could keep names straight and thus was known to call people “Charlie” or “Guy” so not to embarrass himself. He also could not spell and would spell things phonetically. However, since I’m a terrible speller, I hardly seemed to notice.
I spent many evenings watching TV with my grandparents. I just sat there and spent time enjoying laughs and tears. Once I was older and married and once my grandma Ardis passed away, Ray and I continued our life-long friendship. We spent hours shopping at Target and Kmart (two of his favorite stores). However, we would always start with BLT combo lunches at Leons (which included fries and soup) and we would always end the time together with drinks at Starbucks. In fact, I got him hooked on mocha frappuccinos, while I drank my triple venti soy lattes. We talked about everything; from “soup to nuts” he would always say.
In the summer of 2003, Ray took my husband, Jim, and I to Traverse City for a vacation. We spent the time playing cards, talking, and having fun drinking Manhattans and eating out. Ray always woke before us and had the table set for breakfast and had coffee percolating in the background. I never could believe how young he was for someone in his 80s. He walked a mile to see the Sleeping Bear Dunes and he made us laugh by joining Jim and I to watch silly reality TV in the recreational room at the campsite. I will also never forget the wine tasting that left all three of us inebriated, and Ray encouraging me to go in on a case of wine with him. Not quite certain if I’ll ever be able to enjoy raspberry wine again.
Once Zoe came, Ray worried our Friday lunches would be over. But we just brought Zoe along for the ride. He relished in spending time with a baby, and I’ll never forget how he ran up and down the aisle-way with Zoe at Foot Locker while I found a good pair of walking shoes. He even babysat Zoe while I went through my clothes closet, and kept her busy for an hour. Thus, naturally once Eva came we both rolled a cart while shopping. My girls were so lucky to have a relationship with their Papa Ray, who joined us for breakfast and grocery shopping every Friday and enjoyed chocolates and Cokes with us on Wednesday afternoons. When Ray was in rehab, I brought Eva alone on two separate occasions. She showed Papa Ray how she could spell (getting ready for her weekly spelling test) and then played a few songs on the piano by ear. He loved my girls and was so proud of them.
Everyone who came in contact with my grandpa Ray was an instant friend of his - he was just that charismatic. He had friends all over the place (restaurants, Kroger, church, etc.), and his heart was willing to accept more. It is not surprising that this only child (his siblings died at birth) bloomed the moment he was in the center of a group of people. He was fantastic at telling stories about his life - some true and others not so much. But it never really mattered, because his smile and personality sold people every time.
Ray also continued my grandma’s charitable donations to a wide variety of organizations. I had never seen as many gifts as he would receive as thank yous for his donations. Greeting cards, calendars, notepads, stickers, blankets, address labels and calculators only name a few of the many presents he received.
Even up to the end of his Earthly life, Ray never lost his positive spirit. He made certain to let us know he was doing fine and that it was “neat” that we were there to spend time with him. He shared with me a long journey through a beautiful landscape with beautiful blue flowers and lush foliage only a couple of days before his spirit left the earth. Being able to hold his hand throughout this journey meant so much to me; however my special friendship with Ray has been one of the greatest joys in my life. Ray lived each day with gusto, with no regrets, and with the admiration of everyone he met. I hope to be able to emulate that as much as possible as I enter a new year of my life.
Ray was a jack-of-all-trades and touched many lives in his 95 years. However, he is and always will be my Pal Forever.
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