Newsletter 2016

Holiday Greetings from the Gentiles!

Well, 2016 has been nothing if not eventful. A hinge broke on a kitchen cabinet (stay with me here). This was the third time this particular hinge had broken and it was a corner cabinet and a pain to replace. So, if I had to replace the hinge I might as well replace the stupid door. And I can‘t replace just one door and have a mis­match, so I have to replace them all, so why not get that pull-out pantry I’ve been eyeing forever? And since I’m replacing the cabinets, I might as well move the fridge to where I’ve always wanted it and replace it with the French door model I’ve always wanted, right? But the new stainless fridge would certain make the ivory dish­washer look shabby, so that’s gotta go, too. And with the new appliances and new cabinets, of course I need a new counter, which gives me an excuse to put in a peninsula where the table’s always been. And you know what would really pop? A backsplash that plays off the blue flecks in the countertop. Don’t mess with me, hinges. When I go, I go all in.

Probably my favorite part of the whole project (which also included a new floor. There should be a law against using grout on a kitchen floor) – when they pulled off all the backsplash they found the walls were not sheet­rocked, but were plywooded. “We’ve never seen anyone do this before,” the project manager said. “You never met my husband,” I laughed in response, but secretly confident that a cabinet would never rip away from the wall from being overloaded. Oh, Tom -- always taking things to the next level just because he could. The counter installers called me “Deb” for good reason: Scrawled in pencil on the plywood, and not in Tom’s handwriting, the message, “I’m sorry Deb. Will you still marry me?” As far as I know, Tom only knew one Deb, and she did marry the scribe who was apparently visiting from overseas during the last kitchen renovation. I’d love to know what that fight was about.

In September I spent 6 days in Iceland. I wanted a place where they drive on the right, somewhere I could get to nonstop, and where language would not be a barrier, so Iceland seemed a logical choice. It was the coolest vacation I’ve ever had, in the most beautiful part of the planet I’ve ever visited, and on the flight back I was already plotting my return. Loved it. Loved everything about it.

David had an eventful year too. He and Hannah are still doing well.  Now a junior, he changed his concentration (they don’t do majors at SLC) from theatre production to computer science and advanced math­ematics. That’s almost the same, right? He’s also starting to think about grad school, or what else might come next.

I mentioned last year that Geof would be joining the Army in 2016. He did, indeed, leave for basic training and armor AIT in August. The Army was not a good match for Geof, and the Army agreed to release him from his obligations in Nov­ember. He’s back home now and planning to start school in January in an aviation mechanics program. So while his career plan no longer includes the Army, that experience got him on the path he’s on now, and he hasn’t ruled out returning to service after graduation. So I see a good year coming up for him, too.

We wish you all the best for 2017, but now that weed is legal in Massachusetts … let’s be honest, we’ll talk again in 2018.

                                                                             Linda

http://twoboysfourcatsnodogsyet.blogspot.com                             linda.gentile@ymail.com

2015 Newsletter

Holiday greetings from the Gentile Family!

I suppose like every year, 2015 had its ups and downs. Two very sad moments came early in the year. First, when my mom, Ann, died on January 4, mere hours before her 85^th birthday. And we lost Tom’s mother, Madeline, just a month later. In fact, her funeral on February 7 marked Tom’s fifth anniversary. They are all certainly loved, and truly never forgotten.

The kids are thriving this year. A sophomore at Sarah Lawrence, David is loving his academic life, including this semester stage managing a production of Marie Antoinette as the project for one of his classes. His very sweet girlfriend, Hannah, shares his interest in theatre production but is at SLC for premed. Hallelujah with a side of cowbell, she’s also teaching David how to drive. She’s in line for a lifetime supply of homemade cookies or maybe even some cold hard cash if she can actually get him a pretty little driver’s license all his own.  She’s a bit of a Renaissance woman.  Speaking of which, how picky is spellcheck at spelling “Renaissance?” There’s 5 minutes of my life I’ll never get back.

 Geof has had a pretty eventful year. Becoming the athlete of the family a couple of years ago (You may recall previous newsletter references to track and lacrosse. Or maybe you don’t because let’s be honest. This is the Christmas newsletter. Who reads them? Never mind who actually remembers them from this year to next? No one. That’s who.) this year, his senior year,  he took on football, wearing number 82 as defensive back and wide receiver for the Arlington Catholic Cougars. After visiting Old Dominion in Norfolk, VA over the summer Geof was beginning to envision his college life there and was even talking about starting ROTC once there. But the military bug bit a little stronger than anyone expected, and he spoke with a local Army recruiter around the start of the school year. He passed his physical and his ASVAB a few weeks ago and took his Oath of Enlistment on November 17. He ships out for basic training at Fort Benning, GA in August, 2016.

I am still at Dana Farber a day or two a week, and have also done some volunteering at the Greater Boston Food bank. Every now and then I think about gainful employment. Then I think about all the new people I’d have to meet, and all my weirdo quirks and foibles I’d have to explain or hide and I sigh and shrug my shoulders and go back to my rainbow hair and my knitting.  I’m putting the finishing touches on the blanket I’m knitting for Geof. David got his blanket in time for freshman year at SLC, but Geof certainly won’t be taking his to basic training, so I want him to have it before he goes.

I spend a remarkable amount of time cleaning up cat poop and dog pee. Or dog poop and cat pee. I don’t keep track. All I know is the clock is ticking on these animals and every time I clean up one mess or another, every time the contents of the kitchen trash can get spread across the entire first floor of my house, every time I choke on animal fur free floating in the air, I remind them that extraordinary life-sustaining measures become less and less likely. Still, Zoet does her doggie things, and the Scruffy, Pixel, and Momo do their kitty things and all stays balanced in the world.

So, that’s it from us this year.  We all hope you have a safe and wonderful rest of this year, and a happy and healthy 2016.

linda.gentile@ymail.com                  dc.gentile18@gmail.com                   geof.gentile@gmail.com

http://twoboysfourcatsnodogsyet.blogspot.com

Northern Darks

Way to turn viewing the Northern Lights in Boston into something that doesn't happen every day, Linda. It goes something like this:

Me: "Hey, 98, let's go view the Northern Lights tonight. They don't usually come this far south."
98: Grumble, grumble, grumble
Me: Coax and coerce
98: "Okay, but I reserve the right to pitch a fit the next time you ask me to go someplace"
Me: "Deal"

The sign, according to 98, we should have read
before we began our hike. 

I have a place I usually go for night viewing of sky events. Tom and I saw Hale-Bopp at Halibut Point in Rockport, which is as far out on the Rockport peninsula as you can go. But it takes about an hour to get there, especially at night, with the curvy, narrow roads. And I wasn't willing to graciously accept the "OMGMOMThisIsSooooooLame" if the light were anything less than magical, and then have an hour ride home after that, so Halibut Point was out. We opted instead to hike an easy hike to Wright's Tower, right here in the Middlesex Fells. It's about a mile from the house, and about a quarter of a mile into the woods, so we drove to the little parking lot they maintain that holds about 8 cars.

What I hadn't mentioned to 98 was that I had only done this hike a couple of times, and probably not in 10 years, and never at night. I checked a map to get a vague notion of where we were going. And I did know there was a trail leading up to the tower. Flashlight in hand, we got there about 8:45, well after dark. We headed out, and, in my defense, only made one wrong turn. When it became clear I could no longer hide the fact that I had no idea where we were, we turned around, with minimal audible grumbling from 98.

Just about the time 98 was going to steal my flashlight and push me off the next ledge, we bumped into a couple of young guys backpacking up to the tower to see the lights, too. "Hey, are you lost? At least you had the good sense to bring a flashlight. Follow us." Turns out they were both studying to be park rangers, and didn't have a flashlight! They did remember their beers, at least. Not sure what we were getting into, the four of us continued on the trail to the tower. Which was locked, of course.

Norther Darks
Aurora Bor-e-dark-is

Between the light pollution and the trees towering above us, there was not a single northern light to be seen. Not an electromagnetic wave. Not even static electricity. Busted.

Confident we can find our way back down alone, we left the boys at the tower base and head back to the car. If only that were the end of the story.

Nope. There's a whole chapter two.

We get back to the car and head to the parking lot exit, only to find the gate has been shut and locked by Department of Conservation and Recreation. We back up to the entrance, and no good, that's locked, too. I wasn't even going to drive the damn car, but it was jussssst far enough and I was jusssst lazy enough to justify it. So I pull out the cell phone, with which I was going to take epic photos of the northern lights, and call the Medford police. who advise me to call State Police, who advised me to call DCR, who I know won't be open for business, So I just asked my question: If I leave the car here and walk home, will it be towed when I come back in the morning? Turns out it won't be towed, so I leave (98 is long gone, in case you're wondering) and walk the mile or so home. If only that were the end of the story.

Nope. There's a whole chapter three.

I left the house at about 8:15 this morning with the dog to go get the car. When I was about halfway there the phone rings, and it's 98, which is odd because he's not normally awake at 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday morning. Little did I know that leaving a car overnight in a parking lot at a wilderness area triggers certain ... events. AKA search party. Oops.

A state trooper, getting no answer to the bell or knocking or announcing his presence, had let himself in through the door I had left ajar (I was only going to be gone a few minutes) and found his way to a sleeping 98's room, "Where are you, Mom? There a police officer in my room wondering where you are." Oops.

The officer arrived at my car at the same time I did. He brought me up to speed on the situation. As I now understand it, if a car is left overnight in a lot by a large wilderness area they begin with the assumption that the occupants are lost in the woods and commence a search. While the trooper notified DCR I was okay and accounted for, I waited for the search party (I met a DCR ranger named Mike) to return to the lot.  I apologized profusely to the officer and the ranger, and of course took their pictures. I have a blog, yo.

98 says I'm not allowed to leave the house after dark ever again.

The Equipment

The Manpower (some of these guys were camera shy!)

Seriously, though, I want very much to thank the Massachusetts State Police out of the Medford barracks and the Department of Conservation and Recreation, responsible for maintaining the Middlesex Fells, for making such efforts to ensure my and all Massachusetts residents' and visitors' safety.

Guest Blogger, 98

On 98's last day of classes he and his classmates made presentations about the important people in their lives. This is 98's presentation, about his Uncle Jack.

A role model is someone you want to be like when you are older, someone you look up to.  My role model is my uncle, Jack Gillis, because he is intelligent, helpful and funny.  He is involved in both the community and in politics, and he is also straightforward and honest about expressing his opinions on just about everything. 

 

            Back when he was younger, Jack got good grades all through school.  He took several AP classes in high school; this is something I also hope to do all the next four years.  But Jack knew how to have fun, too.  He was a champion apple thrower in his neighborhood in Quincy where he and his five siblings regularly took part in heated rotten apple battles.  One thing I really admire about Jack is that he was very protective of his only older brother, Jim, who was developmentally delayed.  Even after Jim moved to a group home, Jack stayed close to him and watched out for him until he died a few years ago.  

Jack is an English professor at Fitchburg State University, but he does not always correct our grammatical errors when we are talking to him.  He loves to read Shakespeare and literary novels and he has written a book about politics and the scandals surrounding President Clinton.  I am proud of him for all that he has accomplished and I want some day to be as successful as he is . 

Jack loves all animals, especially turtles and my dog Zoet, who is a mixture of a Belgian breed and a Chihuahua..  He is borderline crazy about turtles.  He took really good care of the pet turtle he had as a kid and he has encouraged me to be a responsible pet owner.

I am glad to have my uncle as a role model.  He cares about me and is always happy to give me advice, but only if I seek it out.  He is very respectful of me and accepts me for who I am.  I am grateful that he is a part of my life and today I want to thank him for all that he has done for me.