Tag Archives: Tom Hanks

Bare Feet.

CHAPTER 42.

Surely he could feel the peeling, dead skin on her heels.

His hands, wide and thick, had never reached for her feet before and, to her, the nearly thirty minutes of gentle massage seemed out of character; generally self absorbed, he would more typically nestle, head in her lap, whenever they would share the couch.

His sofa was leather, and lacking in any spinal support; hers, much cheaper kettlecloth, had the firmest foam rubber money could buy – a lesson from the faux suede Oxford grey which had slept herself and so many from ’86 to ’99, its cushions heavenly soft until morning told the aching tale.

She was surprised the old faux grey had remained, after the divorce. Its presence had become a nagging reminder, not of waking lower back pain but of the curious ritual which would stain it thereafter.

Her mother in law’s visit, while uninvited, had been endured as part of a special delivery; she’d found them the perfect dining room table with six cained chairs and completed the compulsion by dismantling and packing the entire set, piece by piece, into the back of the Isuzu for the nearly eight hour trip from Vermont in time for her son’s birthday. Their inextricable bond was soon confirmed when, hardly twenty minutes after unload and assembly, the two of them settled onto the sofa for what had become a familiar session of mutual foot rubbing. Baring their feet, each took turns providing the other massage, oblivious of the intrusive third party who actually owned the house and all furnishings already found therein.

Decades hence, the old grey’s frame moved to the curb and only a cushion or two salvaged for floor seating in the loft, its Carolinian love seat substitute since replaced by her current, scarlet red she’d learned to recognize ritual behavior. Now, her own feet in the hands of one living out his own subconscious fantasy, she’d felt like an object – not of affection, but of surrogate need. The same one with whom he so vitally had to meet earlier that very day, herself worthy of his deceit, had been described by another, who knew, to enjoy end of day, hour long foot massage; as such, he’d spent the beginning of his first hours of official retirement in search of her company. Only a global viral pandemic could stand between his hands and her feet. The one already exposed would have to serve, instead.

No more romancing, real or imagined, in this house. Self preservation was Job #1.

She was by herself, at home today. Leaning forward on the firm foam rubber, she stood. The house had plenty to say, were walls and hardwood floors to talk. Time for her lone, bare feet to add their prints to the story.

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© 3/26/20     Ruth Ann Scanzillo         All rights those of the author, whose story it is and whose name appears above this line. No copying, in part or whole or reconstituted alteration, allowed.  Sharing permitted only by permission of the author. Thank you for respecting original material.

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A Year in Erie.

 

Tom Atkins is holding forth, on JET/FOX/ERIE, the latest weather forecast. Given tonight’s projections, our home town that time forgot might just jump into the national hot lights.

Seems we could break the all time record for 200 inches of the white stuff.

200 inches.

In one winter.

(Yes; around here, Punxsatawney Phil’s shadow notwithstanding, we will winter until the bitter end.)

Spring will arrive, according to the vernal equinox, sometime next week. But, Erie, PA is set to capture yet another snowfall, 8pm tonight through 8pm Wednesday night, 10 more inches that could blanket the already frosted landscape. Plus, another shot coming Thursday evening into Friday morning. It could happen.

But, take a moment.

Consider this.

Erie is known, already, for far more than snowfall in inches. And, the scope of its offerings could astonish you.

First of all, let’s look at the landscape.

Projecting out onto Lake Erie, one of the region’s most spacious state parks, the Presque Isle peninsula, boasts eleven public [public] beaches, complete with sunbathing, swimming, sailing, yachting, and skiing, as well as nature trail hiking, a family campground, bicycle path around the entire 13.4 miles, a nature center, lagoons for canoeing and paddleboating, the Oliver Hazard Perry Memorial, endless picnic groves and, nestled at its interior – a houseboat community!

Directly ahead of the entrance to the park, and careening overhead, the Ravine Flyer – a major rollercoaster – one of numerous amusement park rides, concessions, and arcade attractions at Waldameer Park.

And, the cherry on top? Sara’s, Erie’s 1950’s retro ice cream stop, featuring foot long Smith’s hotdogs with all the trimmings.

For evening, or other afternoon fare, try the Erie Seawolves, a pro baseball team at UPMC Park; a pro hockey team, the Erie Otters, and pro basketball, the Erie Bayhawks, at the Erie Insurance Arena; some 20! dance companies; more than one symphony; at least 5 (FIVE!) world class civic theatres; one of three of the original operational Warner Theatres; Jr’s Last Laugh, the comedy club; the fabulous Erie Art Museum (housing several thousand works in its collection); at least 10 art galleries; A Poet’s Hall; two Indy film societies; the Erie Zoo; LECOM – the largest Osteopathic medical school in the nation – and, 3 universities complete with their own collegiate offerings open to the public.

Hungry?  For every ethnic group ever populating this port city turned industrial turned vacation destination, there is a top notch dining experience. Latino’s, for authentic Mexico City fare; Cloud 9 Wine Bar; Mi Scuzi, Calao’s, and Serafini’s, only three of a multitude of Italian full course sit downs; Like My Thai, for the real Asian taste; Tandoori Hut, for Indian; and, Pineapple Eddie’s, for Caribbean. These are just a handful of remarkably high quality eateries literally too numerous to mention in one travelogue.

Thirsty? For wet: The Ale House. Jekyll & Hyde’s. The Plymouth. Two Public Houses. And, Brewerie, where a plethora of handcrafted beer holds court. Et al. For dry: The Juice Jar, or our Whole Foods Co-op. Et al, et al. ‘Nuff said?

But, here’s something else. The design layout of Erie is Philadelphia grid style. This means a geometry of symmetry. Anywhere you want to go, from the Polish/Russian/German/Irish/African American/Middle Eastern East side to the Italian/Puerto Rican/Mexican/Greek west, you can clock any trip within 10 minutes. And, easy access means increased options –  for a weekend packed with more events and encounters with friends and family than most metropolitans can manage in ten days.

In fact, actor Tom Hanks liked us so much, he made a movie here, “That Thing You Do”.

So, suppose you get displaced. Or, you just need to make that jump.

Do this thing. Spend one year in Erie. Erie, Pennsylvania. If, after 365 days, you don’t feel like settling into the plushest comfort of All [waterfront] American cities, you can go.

But, you’ll never know unless you come to town and find out.

We’ll be here, like we’ve been for over 200 years, still reinventing what’s always been the best thing about living. We’d love to have you.

And, a year means you’d still be around for the first snow.

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copyright 3/13/18  Ruth Ann Scanzillo.  Share liberally. Thanks!!

littlebarefeetblog.com