Five Raccoons

Group of raccoons standing erect

Coming out of the King Kullen parking lot, a light blue Oldsmobile with Florida plates cruised uncertainly ahead of me. Was that an old man with a hat driving? Suddenly I was reminded of my Poppop, John S. Nagy Sr., my maternal grandfather who passed away a year ago, with the honors of being both a New York City Police Officer and Veteran of War. Not to mention world’s funniest grandfather who wore his old man’s hat with style.

The tears that came then were both of happiness and sadness – happiness that the memories of Poppop and the time we had spent together will always be with me – sadness that he is gone from this world forever, leaving his wife of several decades behind. I think of him whenever the Mets play the Marlins, because he was both a Mets fan (being a native New Yorker) and a Marlins fan (having moved to Florida in retirement).

Wiping away my tears, I was driving down the long country road that leads to my house, when my headlights shone on a family of five raccoons crossing a yard ahead of me. No one was behind me and I stopped short. I thought they had stopped right in the center of my front end. To be certain, I edged up and turned around.

No road-kill in the middle of the road. There was one raccoon on the right side of the road, standing upright and keeping watch as the other ones re-crossed in the opposite direction again. I watched as two cars sped by in the opposite direction. Why did I care?

My Dad would have said it was good riddance. In my childhood neighborhood of Bethpage, squirrels and raccoons were pests that were gotten rid of by multiple methods. Drowning, carbon monoxide, and bb guns were common methods of killing them off. A farming neighbor said that if you caught them and spray painted their tails and then drove them off to the state park, they would be back within three days. My Dad did that and sure enough there were blue-tailed squirrels running up the Maples in my backyard three days later.

The next day I went to carve up the watermelon for the kids as they swam. I searched the packed fridge and couldn’t find it. “Where did you put the watermelon?” I yelled to my son. “What watermelon?” he answered. I ran to the car and found it under the backseat. It hadn’t been fully ripe when I bought it – it was perfect now.

Why did I stop for those stupid raccoons? Again I asked myself, as I cut up the large, juicy fruit. I brought it out to my husband, kids, and nephews, who jumped out of the pool and eagerly ate it up, throwing the rinds into the woods. Some deer, or more likely a raccoon, would come eat them up, and then run out into the road on the other side. Would they make it?

500

Bedtime Story, 1883

My 500th post is dedicated to the memory of my “Poppop”, John S. Nagy. It was he who passed on to me a love of newspapers, especially the “funnies” section. Every summer I would visit him and Nanna in their Apollo Beach, Florida home for two weeks. He would wake up at around 5:00 every morning, make coffee for Nanna, and walk with Penny to get the newspaper. Then he would make eggs and sausages for breakfast. He taught me how to do the cryptoquote, and would cut them out for me and mail them in an envelope because we didn’t get the paper at home. To this day I do the cryptoquote and read Peanuts daily, and recently published a Wordy Gurdy rhyme in Newsday. When Poppop learned that I was a writer, he became one of my biggest fans and encouraged me to do it professionally. I know he is up in Heaven cheering me on.

As great as the Internet is, I hope that newspapers never die. We love to spread ours out on the kitchen table as we eat breakfast. The kids read the sports section, I read the weather and news headlines, and my husband goes through pretty much the whole thing. We cut out Peanuts cartoons that have to do with baseball and put them up on the fridge. Newspapers are also great for wrapping presents, lining pets’ cages, making kites, insulating drafty garages, and making you feel like you’re doing something for the world by recycling them.

My friend Leticia has been my greatest inspiration when it comes to publishing on the Internet. Loren Christie leaves uplifting comments on almost every one of my posts. My mom is my biggest fan and is helping me to build a book that is based on my best devotional essays. Julie lets me know when she really likes what I’ve written, and passes it on to others. My siblings Joanna and James have always encouraged me. My husband supports me in all my endeavors and my kids of course are the source of all my writing ideas. Last but not least are my readers. Knowing that you are clicking over expecting another post keeps me writing every day. Thank you.

My Grandfather Has Passed Away

John S. Nagy, Sr., NYPD and veteran of war, is survived by his loving wife Delia Nagy, four children, and many grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
My favorite memory of my Poppop is when we used to go walking with his little dog Penny and he would tell me stories. "You're funny, Poppop," I would say, and he would laugh and say, "You're funny, Lisa Bear."

I have several beautiful heirloom pieces of carpentry in my house that were made by him. My little cousin said that he went to join the great Carpenter in Heaven.

You can view a picture here of my grandparents together at their wedding anniversary.

"Old People No Good"

I was at St. Charles Hospital today for a blood lead test, now required in New York State for all infants. I was told to go to the waiting room. Seeing an elderly woman there, I guessed that she would enjoy looking at the baby. I situated myself in her line of vision. She asked me how old the baby was. She told me she was 83 and had three great-grandsons ages 9 months, 5 years, and 7 years. She had three daughters, and her husband had wanted a son. Now he had them in his progeny.

She then went on to tell me how her grandchildren, now in their thirties, had often been in touch in their childhood and teenage years. “When I was young and healthy, I would go to Macy’s and Sears and buy things for them. I was useful and they would call me all the time. Then I had a bypass operation a few years ago and I can’t get around so well. So they don’t call me anymore.”

In her thick Polish accent, she groaned, “Old people no good. . .You understand?. . .Old people no good.”

I hardly knew what to say, but I listened. Within a few minutes, I was called. I told her, “God bless you,” and she was gone from my life. But I wished I could tell her grandchildren, “Don’t you know what you are missing?”

I can’t reach them but I can tell whoever else may be listening.

“Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not; until I have shewed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come.”
Psalm 71:9

The Voyage of Life: Old Age
Thomas Cole, 1801-1848
Oil on Canvas

The Legacy of Conversation

“NEVER did I ever imagine that the genes in our bodies would take you into my brain and that of Pop's. As I get older, I see the specific genes at work in my children...and as my children age they are becoming aware that the forwardness of our genes are determined to "show-up" as they are called upon. This is true in not only thoughts and physicality but in the issues we defend or deplore. It is a wonder if we allow our minds to be open to the truth of how we feel, think, and look at the human spirit within us it shines through.”

These were the thoughts recently written by Dale Nagy, my grandmother (belovedly called “Nanna”), in reaction to my blog.

I was not surprised that my Nanna would see her own thoughts reflected in my writings. Ours was a family that never ceased talking. The television – there was only one in the house, down in the basement – was rarely on. We were busy doing things together, reading, and/or talking. Family stories were repeated over and over again until they felt like they were part of our own experiences. “Tell me again about the time when you and my aunt ran into the bee’s nest,” I would ask. I can really see that scene play out in my head, although it happened long before I was born.

Although I was not homeschooled and my parents were not involved in the school parent-teacher association, they truly were a part of my education. When I got home from school, they would ask me questions about my day. Not just general questions like “How was your day?”, but specific ones. “What did you learn new today? Tell me about your teacher. What are your friends’ names? What about the other kids?” When a problem arose, they would role-play with me so I could be better prepared with dealing with that situation on my own.

“Don’t they give you a summer reading list?” my father complained, “When I was in school I was learning Latin and reading great books like The Old Man and the Sea and Moby Dick…” He made those classics seem so important to a child’s development that I made sure to read them. Many years later we would compile a list of must-read-books for the good of my teenage brother. And I am still trying to learn a bit of Latin and Greek roots, along with the kids.

During the summer I would often spend a week or two with my Nanna and Poppop. I would take long walk with Poppop and his little hotdog-dog, Penny. “You’re funny,” I would tell him, and he would say, “No, you are.” Nanna would bake with me and play games with me. The whole time was spent sharing stories.

When parents and older relatives share their experiences with young ones, they might sometimes wonder if the kids are listening. Even if they tune out some of them, you can be sure most of it is getting through. Through a repetition of themes and values, the stories become a lesson on how things are in the world, how one can deal with problems that arise, the constancy of morals and how following them ultimately works out for the good.

The good of talking can also make possible that your values are infiltrating their thinking and actions, even when you are not there. Even if you must work long hours, do not volunteer at the school, or are only able to visit the grandchildren once a year, you can have a long-lasting influence on those who truly need it.

"Raise up a child in the way he should go;
And when is old, he will not depart from it.”
Proverbs 22:6

Picture of me with Nanna at my first daughter's First Communion in May 2005.