Random Flashback for Friday 10/26/18

Happy Halloween!

In honor of the holiday -- and to stay true to the construct for Fridays on the blog/Facebook of telling my tale twenty years after it happened -- here's how we celebrated around this time of year in 1998.

Chris and I were just over a month into our new relationship, so we had reached the "meet the family" milestone.  And by "the family", I mean *his* family, as my family situation was (and always has been) atypical.  In late 1998, I wasn't yet the biological orphan that I am today, but still ...

So ... meeting *his* family meant driving up to his mom and dad's house in Wormleysburg to take his youngest nephew Robert out trick-or-treating (that's him in what I think is a GI Joe costume).  Note:  this may be the *first* appearance of our three nephews, but it won't be the last -- at least for the next fifteen years or so of Fridays before we catch up to the time when they all got old and moved across the country (or halfway around the world for one of them) setting up families of their own, rarely to be seen again.

Random Flashback for Friday 10/12/18

Picking up where I left off a fortnight ago in this ongoing series where I tell the tale of my life two decades after it happened ('cause it's what I do), around this time twenty years ago in the fall of 2018, Chris and I were entering our courtship phase, made more challenging by our "long-distance" relationship.

By "long-distance", I mean one of approximately 35 miles -- the distance between Lebanon (where I still lived) and Harrisburg (where he had his house).  I was still working the overnight night auditor shift at what was then known as the Quality Inn in my hometown ... and he was a unionized server at what was then known as the Circular Dining Room at the Hotel Hershey.  I would often sneak away to his place for a visit, and he made the required trip to Lebanon in order to meet the og pit bull named Demon, where he joined us on our walk and learned the hard way that Demon needed to always be in the lead (via a quick nip when Chris tried to walk first in line).  I think that was also the trip where he took one look at our batchelor pad kitchen -- and started cleaning.  Together, we snuck away to Philly for a weekend of fun (details of which I'll save for the eventual actual auto-biography).

My favorite story from this time frame, though was how we would talk on the phone for hours after he got off of work, and during the slow slow time when I was at the desk of the hotel.  As per my instructions, and seeing as how this was in the days before ubiquitous cell phones, I would always call him back on the special 1-800 line to save money -- and we'd talk about everything and nothing until he would start to fall asleep on the other end of the line.  You can imagine my surprise when my employer contacted me weeks later to inform me that there was well over $100 in charges from outbound calls on that line, as a 1-800 number is only "free" to the people calling IN and not those calling OUT.  Sheepishly, I came up with a plan to pay those costs ... and strategically, we came up with a plan to consider living in the exact same town (to be continued) ...

Random Flashback for Friday 9/22/18

By now, you likely know how this works -- every other Friday, I look back twenty years to tell the story of what was happening in my life back then.  It's a tale told with two decades worth of reflection ... and it's a tale that changed drastically in September of 1998.

If you are a regular reader, then you saw my post from last Saturday, where I raved about my now twenty year relationship with the man who would become my husband (after the Supremes allowed it, of course).  So it only naturally follows that memories from late September of 1998 would be about the night I met him, which in turn explains this stock photo from the Harrisburg area Karns that accompanies this post.

As *most* of the story goes (I'll exclude anything too too salacious ... for those parts, you'll have to wait for the full autobiography and/or get us drunk enough to start sharing details), I had wrapped a weeknight murder mystery event in Annville -- not one of the fully cast ones, but a special gig on the side where I coordinated a party with a company's own employees as participants -- and I let my car decide when I got to the light at 934 and 422 which way it would turn.  If it turned left that night, I'd head back east to my home ... and if right, I'd head into Harrisburg to pay a visit to the "alternative" bars with which I had become familiar.

The car turned right.  I had a few drinks ... and in the "closer" bar, Chris caught my eye -- not once, but twice, as he was doing the rounds of the same few establishments in town, and as he had left and came back.  I bought him a beer -- and interrupted him to save him from a conversation with a person I had previously met under the same scenario.  Chris lived in town and invited me back to his house to "cableTV and chill" (it was the late 90's after all, and Netflix wasn't around then).  Which finally gets me to the reason for this photo of "PA's best meat department" ... the next morning, he made breakfast -- and it included pepper bacon he had bought at Karns.

I waited three days to call him ('cause 'The Rules' were a thing back then), and within the week, I was cutting short a trip to western PA in order to get some more quality time with him.  I would never have guessed that one night would become 20 years ... but I'm sure those of you who know me well know that "bacon the morning after" certainly helped our relationship start off on the right foot.

Random Flashback for Friday 9/14/18

As referenced in the last two posts in this series, I am now presenting proof of what anybody who was anybody in my home county of Lebanon PA was doing this month two decades ago.

Namely -- we were all at the Congregational Church of Christ in Lickdale PA attending the wedding of good friends Mr and Mrs Eric and Sheri F.

Since the big day is supposed to be all about the bride (seen here smiling after the ceremony), I won't get into how this particular building, and their specific officiant, figured into MY past, but let me just say that it was a bit of a twist to the long form version of my own tale.

Instead, I'll just use this time to say congratulations to them on this couple's 20th anniversary ... and to try to get points for not posting any pics from the ceremony when they were made to kneel down right in front of the pastor to speak into the microphone at his waist (an unfortunate sight line situation for those in attendance).

Random Flashback for Friday 8/31/18

The last time I posted in this series (a fortnight ago), I hinted that there would be a set of pictures from THE social event of the season, where "season" is defined as September of 1998 -- twenty years ago, as we do on every other Friday on the blog -- and where "THE" is in the eye of the beholder.

Upon review, I never promised to call out exactly what that event was ... but suffice it to say that IF you attended, then you already know the goings-on about which I am speaking.

Hint:  *this* was the "after-party" ... and these two well known Lebanon-Countians were there (and they look to be deep in conversation discussing the activities of the day).  Don't worry -- if you weren't lucky enough to get an invite two decades ago, all will be abundantly clear two weeks from today ...

Random Flashback for Friday 8/17/18

If this photo looks familiar, it's probably because you are a regular reader ... and you might be remembering Cherokee's unique markings -- as first seen in this series a fortnight ago. 

Or maybe you're remembering the distinctly Montana landscape seen in the background, what with this being a picture my bio-moms sent me of her family vacation with some of her grandkids in 1998.

Speaking of grandkids -- what's *different* in this particular picture is which of the grandkids is sitting atop Cherokee the horse.  Two weeks ago, it was my sister Holly's daughter Ashlyn ... *this* time, it's her little brother Nicholas.

(Teaser -- this is the last of this set of photos I'll post, because, in two weeks, I'll start sharing shots from THE social event in my hometown of Lebanon PA [from twenty years ago, of course, 'cause that's the way this Friday flashback thing works] ...)

Random Flashback for Friday 8/3/18

One is named Ashlyn ... and one is named Cherokee.  Also -- one is nine years old in this twenty year old photo (I'm guessing it's the former and not the latter ...)

I know all this because my moms was really good about jotting descriptions on the backs of all the photos of her life out in the wild wild west that she would send me through the mail in cards.  Back in those days (specifically here, it's the summer of 1998), we kind of had a virtual relationship (back before the e-world was prevalent, and when "virtual" meant you sent cards and letters and photos through the postal service because you only ever actually saw each other approximately once a decade).

Based on where these photos all fall in my old fashioned album, I'm presuming it was all part of the same vacation she took with two of her grandkids (the children of one of my sisters) at a place called Browns Lake, Montana -- 'cause, let's face it, this particular picture has Montana written all over it!

Random Flashback for Friday 7/20/18

I told you two weeks ago when I explained that the most recent set of twenty year old photos I was adding to the 1998 Flashback Friday series would be featuring pics my bio-moms sent me of her summer activity from two decades ago -- specifically, that she went with the family members who live west-of-the-Mississippi to a place called Browns Lake, Montana -- that it was clearly (partly) a fishing trip.

And now ... the proof.

The funny thing is she decided to throw a little shade (as the kids say) by writing on the back:  "me, 5 fish ... Ashlyn, 4 fish ... papa, 1 (smallest)".  To translate that, she was kind of bragging that she both outfished her granddaughter (my niece) AND her long time end-of-life partner (also known as Skip), who only managed to snag a the tiniest fish out of this bunch.

This being Montana and all, I have a feeling that all ten fish were eaten that weekend.  Just a hunch.

Random Flashback for Friday 7/6/18

And now we've come to that part of the annual look-back-two-decades shtick where I get to share what my geographically distant family members were doing in the summer of 1998.

You can read other posts that detail my complicated relationship with the lady in this photo (my bio-moms, yo!), but for now, just know that she regularly sent me cards that included photos of her life in Montana (and other western states when she traveled).

She was also super-good at being sure to write on the back of the pictures, which is how I know that *this* particular shot in the wild is from a trip she took with some of her grandkids to Browns Lake, Montana.  As upcoming pics in this special twenty-year old summer series will show, it was a place for horseback riding and fishing -- lots and lots of fishing (as you'll see in the photo planned for two weeks from now).  Until then, here's my (late) momma, happy in her environment, circa summer 1998.

Random Flashback for Friday 6/22/18

Okay, okay ... just *one* more photo of my room as it existed two decades ago in the second version of the fraternity house in the spot on Walnut Street across from the hospital and next to Big Bertha's -- seeing as how that place has been mentioned a few times in this series currently focused on 1998.

Unlike last week's photo, where I lamented that almost everything pictured no longer existed, I am pretty sure that the opposite is true in this case (except for the last-millennium technology [i.e. the corded phone and the big box TV/VCR combo]).  It's funny to think that the Bat-collection was once that small (it has its own *cave* in the current house).

Also pictured there almost cut off in the left side of the photo -- Mauler's stash of food seeing as how she shared this room with me (by the summer of '98, Demon the OG pit bull had his own bedroom at the end of the hall, Little One the turtle had entered into his final hibernation under the futon in the attic and Little One the Ferret was enjoying the caged life [except for when he was let out to teach Mauler a trick or two]).

And if you haven't figured out by now, back then I was already well on my way to enjoying the company of animals over humans most of the time ...

Random Flashback for Friday 6/8/18

All this twenty year old talk the last few weeks about the *second* fraternity house we set up back home in Lebanon PA circa summer 1998 (the one on Walnut Street across from the hospital and next to Big Bertha's on the corner -- not the one in Greentree Village) made me nostalgic for this bachelor pad/room.

Over time, the "frat bros" who were considering this their address changed -- with Demon getting DJ's room when he left .. .and then with me moving out of the attic and into here when Corey moved on (and Darryl got Selman's room when he did the same) -- at least until it was my turn to change domiciles in a big way at the end of that year.

Most of those things are long gone (I mean the picture is two decades old), but the ladder and cassettes live on to this day.  By the way -- how do you know for sure it's a bachelor pad/room in a faux fraternity house -- none of us apparently had any idea how window treatments work!  Yes indeed ... if those walls could talk ...

Random Flashback for Friday 5/25/18

With all this twenty year old talk of the second attempt at fraternity house living back in my hometown of Lebanon PA in the house on the corner on Walnut Street across from the hospital and next to Big Bertha (the name of a convenience store -- lest someone think this a pejorative reference), it was only going to be a matter of time before *this* smiling guy made an appearance in the flashbacks.

We now refer to him as the OG pit bull in the family, but back then, he was the grown puppy (?!) that I had gotten a year or so earlier from a friend of a lady with whom I worked doing voiceovers at Cable AdCom on the local real estate channel.  That friend of the lady was recently divorced from her husband, and she couldn't take care of both Demon and her kids ... so I got Demon for (frat)brother (and more) DJ.  Eventually, DJ embarked on some out-of-state travel, and so Demon came back to me -- on the condition, though, that it would be a permanent arrangement to provide the dog with some stability.

Demon James will most definitely be showing up again as these tales get told two decades after they happened (at least up until 2028, since he passed in 2008) ... but in the kitchen of this house, the memories are about the ham bone Eric tried to use to make friends with him (he gladly accepted the ham bone -- and then chased Eric out of the house) ... and the time he ran the length of the first floor and burst through the front screen door (scaring a passerby who was being too loud -- a passerby who said afterwards that he was so frightened that he jumped from one side of the two lane street to the other and didn't remember touching the ground) ... and all the walks he took around the neighborhood ... and especially the very first night we bonded when I dog-sat him and he basically ate an entire leg of my denim jeans one strip at a time that he ripped off of me as we lay there.

And *that's* how we became best buddies.

Random Flashback for Friday 5/11/18

Tonight's timeless message is quite simple:

Be sure to stop and smell the flowers.

(Note:  this message is being brought to you via Mauler Jean, circa spring or summer of 1998, as seen here in the back yard of the second frat house on Walnut Street next to Big Bertha's in my hometown of Lebanon PA.  Although, actually, come to think of it -- she might have really jumped the fence into the *neighbor's* yard [that small white fence wasn't much of a barrier for a barely one year old kitty], because I don't remember me or any of the frat bros planting such pretty flowers on our side of that divider.)

The message worked twenty years ago in 1998 ... and it works tonight in 2018 ... and it will work again in 2038 (if we're all around to think about it then):  do as she did and don't pass the flowers by without giving them a sniff.

Random Flashback for Friday 4/27/18

Here's the thing about Mauler Jean -- as captured by this twenty year old photo from 1998:  she kind of did whatever she wanted.

After all, she was my first solo-owned kitty (as distinguished from the photos of me taken as a child in the pre-divorce years with felines ... or of me with Tuppy at the Woodwards [the family that all but adopted me when I ran away from home] ... or of me with Smokey [the kitty from our college dorm room that our little village raised as a group]).

Meaning -- if that meant that she wanted to go explore the tiny back yard behind the second fraternity house we had set up two decades ago on Walnut Street next to Big Bertha's in my hometown of Lebanon, then outside she would go.  And, because she was who she was, she didn't run away ... she just took her time enjoying a bit of outdoor play.  She was, quite clearly and most definitely, in charge.

Random Flashback for Friday 4/13/18

Twenty years ago, in the spring of 1998, little miss Mauler Jean was growing up quickly.

As you might remember, Mauler Jean was the tiny little kitten that I had found in the woods of Mt Gretna the year before ... the one who slept inside my shirt for the first few days I had her ... the one who was partly raised by Little One the ferret and who was fascinated with Demon the original pit bull (who also arrived in the extended family around the same time).

In this photo, she was probably a year or so old, hanging out with the things that smelled like me up in my attic room of the second fraternity house (the one on Walnut Street) ... seeing as how she had to entertain herself whilst I was out and about taking my law school classes and working multiple jobs.  By the year's end, she'd have fellow kitty housemates in a completely different house ... but for this specific time, she was enjoying her status as an "only kitty".

PS ... you can tell for sure that this is a photo from the late 90's by that braided brown belt still looped in my jeans ... although, truth be told, I was wearing braided belts long after they should have been sartorially retired ... so there's that.

Random Flashback for Friday 3/30/18

Okay ... one last pic from that bus trip with Kristi HB back in the summer of 1998.

In case you didn't see the other photos in this mini-series, *this* is Atlantic City (circa two decades ago).

Well, more appropriately, *this* is the space under the AC pier at low tide, the image of which, to my 26 year old self, was more powerful than all the flash and the bling of the casinos up lining the beach.

Was it the light at the end of the pseudo-tunnel to which I was drawn?  Or the symmetry of the foundation that spoke to my mild OCD?  Or the danger in thinking that a dead body might go floating past at any time?

Regardless -- *this* was the underbelly of Atlantic City ... twenty years ago.

Random Flashback for Friday 3/16/18

There comes a time in your life when you need to admit *exactly* who you are ... when you are finally ready to accept that the judgment of others can no longer affect your life at all, and when you are free to outwardly be who it was that you were meant to be your whole life.

In that spirit, I am now ready to announce publicly that I am most definitely ... an archivist.  (Note -- I am NOT a hoarder, because my stashes are well organized and I can [almost] always find that for which I am looking.) 

Also in that spirit, I am now prepared to announce publicly that I have checked my records and I can confirm that this trip (first mentioned two weeks ago) to Atlantic City from twenty years ago happened in JULY (as opposed to March), because my log of out of state trips for that year (yes, I have a log) clearly says ... "Atlantic City ... NJ ... JUL 98 ... gambling and beach with Kristi HB".

As to why no one was ON the beach as photographed on that particular July day in 1998 ... the log simply doesn't say ... (but, two decades after the fact, I feel it is probably safe to blame Trump).

Random Flashback for Friday 3/2/18

Twenty years ago ... in "some month" in 1998 ... Kristi HB and I took a day to go visit "classic" Atlantic City.

From the placement of these pictures in the 1998 photo album (yes, I'm of an age where I have physical copies of my photos in albums marked by years), I *think* it was the off season ... although this random lady on the boardwalk in front of the Showboat (which was in front of the Taj Mahal) makes it look like it was a warm-ish kind of day (so maybe late spring/early summer?) ...

Note that this was indeed from two decades ago, so I believe it was *before* the Donald ran the town into the ground ... and that means the appearance of that particular casino in the picture might have been aspirational for that era.

Between now and the next photo in two weeks, I just might be able to track down the *exact* dates of this particular trip ... stay tuned.

Random Flashback for Friday 2/16/18

It was twenty years ago, in the winter of 1998 (early March specifically, if the time stamp on this old fashioned photo is to be trusted) and that would have meant that I was fulfilling my annual obligation to be the "entertainment" at a Lutheran youth church camp up in the mountains of north central PA.

I'm pretty sure that this was the 4th of 5 years where I made that trek (or the 5th of 6 years?), and by this picture, I'm also pretty sure that this was the year I didn't bring any actors *with* me (although, as shown last time, I *did* bring along the little kitty that had just moved in) but that I had started working with actual campers to put on the weekend's activities (specifically these four young folk).

I'd have to dig deeper in the archives than just the 1998 photo album to uncover exactly which murdery Bible story was featured that year (David having Bathsheba's husband killed maybe?) -- but lucky for me, there's all kind of high drama and wanton violence in the Old Testament to keep a twisted mind like mine busy -- and to keep church campers entertained running through the woods in the cold trying to solve a murder.

Random Flashback for Friday 2/2/18

Twenty years ago ... in the winter of 1998 ... I was winding down my side thing of doing audience participation murder mysteries.  In the earlier part of the decade, I had all the connections to perform them at my alma mater LVC, but every now and then there were some special offsite shows -- for instance, there were several back-to-back years of doing Bible based murder mysteries (believe me -- there is all kinds of drama in that Old Testament) at a Lutheran church camp up in the woods of north central PA.

Since Mauler Jean was newly in the family and not even yet a year old, for this particular trip, she got to go along and hang out in the Aframe cabin (as blurrily pictured).  Considering she was found abandoned in the woods of Gretna ... hanging out in the woods up there for the weekend was probably like a little homecoming of sorts for her.  Either way, she made herself right at "home" as honorary church camp cat that year.