GIBBS’ SUPERPOWER

THE SCOTTISH SUPERPOWER!


I used to be Super Woman. I have written about it several times, in a variety of ways. Here is a link — BYE, BYE SUPERWOMAN — in case you are interested. It’s one of my better small pieces about life, and barking ones shins while attempting to leap tall buildings at a single bound.

Gibbs - Super Scottie!

Gibbs – Super Scottie!

For this challenge, I’d like to talk about Gibbs, the Scottish Terrier. He joined our family last March. He had never had a real home before in his life, but once he worked out the biscuit and petting connection, he took to family life with a vengeance. He took to the sofa with love, passion, and a quiet determination to never again be without a soft place to sleep.

Which is when we realized that Gibbs has a superpower. A real one. No kidding.

Gibbs can alter his specific gravity. Under non-super conditions, Gibbs weighs about 27 pounds. A normal, big boy Scottie. But if Gibbs has found his “spot” and has decided he is in need of A Long Rest, he can increase his weight and became an immovable object. Garry and I together can barely move him, much less lift him. It is as if he has a powerful magnetism that ties him firmly to the earth’s core — the sofa being only the intervening platform.

Note the open eye. He does not sleep. He is waiting.

Note the open eye. He does not sleep. He is waiting.

It’s pretty funny watching two grown adult humans struggling to rearrange or relocate one relatively small Scottish Terrier. I have no idea how he does it, but it’s definitely a superpower and a pretty impressive one at that.

What’s different and special about Batgirl and Supergirl and Wonder Woman is that they do all of this through female bodies. They demonstrate that heroism and intelligence and strength and leadership are not male traits. Rather, they are human traits that can be performed by anyone. — Carolyn Cocca

I’m here to tell you this is not only not necessarily a male human trait, or a female human trait. It is a basic animal trait. They shall not be moved!

We have a dog. He has The Superpower. Drop by sometime. We will demonstrate!

HANGING OUT – GREENWICH VILLAGE MEMORIES

Garry and I watched a documentary on Netflix titled “Greenwich Village: Music That Defined a Generation.” It was about Greenwich Village in the 1960s. Both Garry and I were there. He was already a working reporter, but young enough to enjoy the special culture of this corner of New York. I was still a teenager, in college. I was with my first boyfriend who was into the Village scene. I took to it like a proverbial duck to water.

From the Italian coffee shops that sold amazing coffee, and hot and cold chocolate, to the tiny, dark caverns where folk music was born, this was the Heart of Hip. And it was just a 15 cent subway ride from home. The world was mine. There’s a lot of good things to be said for growing up in the country, but it can’t compare with being young and having New York as ones playground.

The Figaro was the coolest of the cool cafes. Everyone talked in whispers. I knocked over a table one day and almost collapsed from the humiliation. Grace was never my forte.

The Figaro was the coolest of the cool cafes. Everyone talked in whispers. I knocked over a table one day and almost collapsed from the humiliation. Grace was never my forte.

Greenwich Village in the 1960s was the stuff dreams are made of. Everyone was there. Bob Dylan and Tom Paxton. Pete Seeger and Judy Collins. Joni Mitchell and Leon Bibb and Harry Belafonte. Everyone. The famous, soon to be famous and a few who would be infamous. All young, making music, and passing the basket.

I’d take the subway from Queens. Get off at Bleecker Street, alone or in the company of friends. It didn’t matter whether you brought company or went by yourself. There were always people to meet. You didn’t need much money — good because none of us had any. We were kids, mostly without jobs and still in school. Those of us not still living with parents lived in apartments shared with lots of other people to make the rent and afford something to eat now and again.

All I needed was 30 cents for the round trip — and maybe, if I could scrounge it up, a dollar for a chocolate at Caffe Reggio. A dollar and a half would carry me a whole day into evening in the Village. Because hanging out was cheap.

“What do you mean “hanging out?” asks my granddaughter.

“You bought a coffee or a chocolate and just sat. Read a book or a newspaper. Watched people coming and going on the street, hoping you’d see someone you knew or wanted to know.”

“That’s it? You just sat around?”

“Yup. Just sat around. That was the definition of hanging out. No one hurried you, or told you to buy something or leave.

This may be the only place I remember that's still (more or less) as I remember it. Cleaner, bigger, but recognizably Caffe Reggio -- the place where cappuccino (in America) was born.

This may be the only place I remember that’s still (more or less) as I remember it. Cleaner, bigger, but recognizably Caffe Reggio — the place where cappuccino (in America) was born. It’s now a protected landmark. Good thing, too.

You could sit with your coffee and book all day if you wanted to. No one would bother you. When it got dark, you went to one of the places where people sang. There were usually no entry fees. Hopefully you had enough money to drop something in the basket for whoever was performing. Sometimes, you had no money. More to the point, you had exactly enough to buy a coffee and a couple of subway tokens. But that was okay. It was the 1960s. We were cool.”

No cell phones. A lot of people had no phone, period. People rode bicycles with naked guitars strapped to their backs. Car? I think most of us didn’t have driver’s licences. I didn’t. That was a dozen years in my future.

People were friendly, funny, and convinced we were going to change the world. Maybe we did. We certainly tried.

Out near Hofstra where I was going to school (and was a music major), my soon-to-be husband and his best friend decided to bring culture to Long Island and opened the AbMaPHd (pronounced ab-ma-fid) coffee-house. They brought in the guys and gals who were playing in the Village. Dave Van Ronk gave me my first good guitar strings. He even put them on the guitar for me.

What did I do there at the AbMaPHd? Hung out, of course. Sat around, meeting friends, drinking something, listening to music, meeting musicians. Just hanging. No one was texting, computing or phoning. There was no electronic background noise (unless you count the squeal of feedback from the mikes). No beeping, dinging, or strange wailing noises of incoming calls. The noise was human. People talking, laughing, fighting, singing, discussing. Eating and drinking.

It was a wonderful time to be growing up and if I hadn’t been there, I’d envy me for having been a part of it.

IT’S A NEW YEAR – STILL SHARING MY WORLD!

Share Your World – January 2, 2017


Would you prefer to receive a unicycle, bicycle, tricycle or motorcycle?

Um, none of the above. My balance is g-o-n-e. Even a tricycle sounds threatening.

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How about a nice little convertible sports car? An MG or a classic Mercedes? No? Then … never mind.

What is one thing you’d like to accomplish this year?

Survive. I want to be here next year!

What was one of the highlights of 2016 for you?

Arizona — all two and a half weeks of it — was one long high point.

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Election night was the lowest point of the decade, not merely the year.

Would you prefer to fly a kite or fly in a hot air balloon?

Oh, I’ve wanted to go up in a hot air balloon forever. It’s one of the very few things I’ve always wanted to do and I’ve just never been in the right place at the right time. I did go gliding, though, when I was in England. That was totally ultra super cool!

hot-air-balloons-over-monument-valley

There a company that offers tours of Europe in hot air balloons. Not surprisingly, it’s a bit pricey for us … but that would be a definitely dream come true! In the meantime, I’d settle for any little hot air balloon ride … anywhere.

Optional Bonus question:  What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up? 

Mostly, I’m celebrating the freedom from celebrating. And we seem to be finally getting over the virus that has haunted us for the past month, coming and going. Remarkably, I’m very pleased to have a real vacuum. I never knew how much we needed it. You sort of get used to the dirt.

Next week, Garry and I are going to afford pedicures for both of us. We deserve it.