Tilting at the Digital Windmill. Because I (and I imagine the majority of you are so sick of politics, both local and national) I would like to try to bring us together by expressing my abject frustration at the most unreliable, elusive and (I’m starting to think) truly evil necessity in our brand new post Covid-19 World. To begin this tale, I will channel the ghost of Sophia Petrillo. Picture it. Middletown, 1980 It was a sunny September morn and I, like many a devious child, preferred laying on the couch, watching Sale of the Century and being waited on with ginger ale and rye toast to the horror of actually donning my plaid kilt attending St. Mary’s Elementary school. So I mess up my hair, splash my face with warm water and put on my saddest poor me face for effect and mope over to my mom and muster up the words in my best downtrodden voice ‘Mommy (always use the extra M-Y for maximum adorability) I think I’m too sick to go to school.’ And my mom, like most moms at 7am , woul
Try-Hards and WannaBes Once upon a time there was a frighteningly awkward six foot tall teenager, complete with straw-like hair from Sun-In and bad perms. She was what the kids today might call a ‘try-hard’. In the 80’s and 90’s, we called them ‘wannabes.’ She tried too hard to fit in. She tried too hard to make friends and tried way too hard to make teachers and coaches like her, so calling her a try-hard back then would have been an appropriate addition to the nicknames she was given. Amazon, Loser, Wannabe and the dreaded Hodown. Yup, Hodown, the one that would truly stick. All because one time in 8th grade I...I mean SHE dared to wear her brand new white fringe leather jacket to school the day after Dolly Parton wore the same one on her ABC special entitled the Hodown Showdown. Thanks for that Peter. Now when you're a WannaBe, there has to be someone you want to be for it to have meaning. So, Once upon a time in Middletown Catholic School, there was a girl named Nikki. S