Underlying photo by Allie on Unsplash
Red may think that the journey of Red & Black started the night that her husband was fired (read her version, It Was A Rainy Friday), and technically she may be correct. Or, maybe it started when we were growing up, and that Friday was merely a life-changing event (for her). Regardless, I typically do not reminisce but, at least, want to provide my version of that rainy Friday.

It was your basic Friday night, which meant I went out to dinner with my husband and enjoyed a good meal with an expensive bottle of fine wine.

And, I was responsible for the conversation. However, that could have described almost any evening.

Upon our return to the house, he would plant himself in front of the television and quickly fall asleep. Which was my cue to go upstairs to my home office and check emails. (It was 2004, so before everyone was tethered to smart phones.) On this particular evening, there was an email from my sister, simply stating "I need to talk to you about Nick as soon as possible! It's serious." She had sent it just before 10 p.m. and it was now almost 11 p.m. I started to call her, but then realized how odd it was that she sent me an email versus trying my cell phone or leaving a message on our house phone. So, I emailed her to call me when she got the message – regardless of the time.

I started to run through the various scenarios of what could be wrong with Nick. Taking into consideration that my sister was warm and fuzzy, and tended to be overly emotional (the fact she had gotten a degree in theater only made it worse), did not help narrow down the options. Until I focused on the fact it was a single simple sentence. That alarmed me. It was totally out of character for her, as typically I would have had to wade through all the words to find the key point. So, I immediately started to think the worst – he was seriously ill or had been in an accident.

Since there was nothing more I could do, I finished up some emails, did a little paperwork, and once the snoring had moved from the living room to the bedroom went back downstairs.

I am an early riser, so was back at my computer well before 6 a.m. and still no email from Red. But, when I finally heard from her and she let me know that he had been fired, I was relieved. It was not as bad as anything I had imagined. Plus, I had lost my job in the energy industry – not once, but twice (once due to a downturn in the industry and once due to corporate politics), so did not find the situation overly dire.

OK, so maybe she was looking for sympathy and/or a compassionate response … but I have been her older sister her entire life. She should have known better. And, to this day, even though I have told "my version" of this story to thousands of people at speaking engagements, Red still laughs at herself for being surprised by my initial reaction.

Photo of Red's beloved stuffed sheep

Photo by Red

I've always loved stuffed animals. And the softer and plusher, the better. They're like family. Only, in some ways, better, but I won't go down that road. Not today, anyway. Some children outgrow their love for stuffed animals (or do they just stopping admitting it?), but not me. And although I've stopped adding to my collection over the years (ok, make that decades), there are always those favorite ones that are loved just a little bit more, squeezed a little tighter, hugged a little longer.

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Photo by Walik on iStock


Red's Head assets.rebelmouse.io


It's funny. When the New York Islanders were in the semi-finals of the Stanley Cup, your post about how ice hockey brought back warm memories of you and Daddy, brought back a vivid memory for me, too.


Black's Head Black assets.rebelmouse.io


I have never known you to be interested in ice hockey. Full stop. Or, should that be "full hockey stop"?


Red's Head assets.rebelmouse.io


Cute. And although we both skated as kids, and Daddy tried teaching me the hockey stop, I never could do it. But my memory has nothing to do with professional ice hockey or even skating. Instead, it's how you handled a bunch of high school ice hockey players.
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Photo by Dave Phillips on Unsplash

I'm not sure where they come up with these "holidays" but today's National Creative Ice Cream Flavors Day … although I can't remember the first time I had a creative ice cream flavor. Growing up on Long Island in the 1960s, my ice cream memories are of your traditional flavors bought in non-descript half-gallon rectangle cartons (not even tubs) from the grocery store. Or, as a special treat or celebration, a coffee ice cream soda (not sure you'd consider "coffee" a "creative flavor") at Krisch's in downtown Massapequa, Long Island (it's still there!). Occasionally, I'd get an ice cream sundae at Friendly's, but I wasn't overly creative – vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce, whipped cream, and extra cherries.

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