by Paula D.
on January 25, 2021 10:51 am in Memories
Tomorrow is my 40th birthday. I’ve been using the line “I’m pushin’ 40” for the past two years because it’s hilarious. You can essentially say any off-the-cuff or inappropriate comment followed by, “I’m pushin’ 40” and somehow it makes anything okay, and provides a nice jeuje to almost any joke. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. If you’re in your mid to late 30s, I highly recommend you try it. The only thing that bothers me about turning 40 is that I can’t say “I’m pushin’ 40” anymore.
A few weeks back, I posted the magic one-liner on Facebook for the pure joy of typing it out for one of the last times. Within an hour, I’m receiving these “words of wisdom” responses:
“Welcome to the other side.”
“It’s not so bad cuz.”
“Wow that’s big kid! Good luck with labor!”
“U got this chica!”
“Same here. It’s terrible.”
“Don’t sweat it, I’m pushing 63 and have a great life.”
I couldn’t believe what I was reading. To me, it is just a great line — I hadn’t been sweating it at all. Only two of my friends understood the gag. I thought “Anyone who truly knows me must know I don’t give a [insert profanity here] about getting older.”
Why is getting older in our culture a negative? 98% of my friends and family that commented on FB assumed I was upset about hitting the milestone birthday. Instead of getting a laugh, it messed with my head. It backfired for the first time in its history. The more I thought about the responses, the more I realized there are only a few people in this whole world that truly know and understand who you are.
This brought me further down the rabbit hole, thinking about the pandemic and Covid-19. Whose lives have we sacrificed for our need to continue our leisure activities and comfortable lifestyles? The elderly and weakest of our society, yes? I’ll leave it there.
I’ve written about aging a few times. To reiterate in short … there’s no stopping the clock, we’re all getting older. Let’s take the ride with a positive mind and embrace each new phase of our journeys. There have been people in my life that have died young. And around my birthday I think of them with love, as I pass the age of their passing further and further. This is a reminder to me, to be grateful for every year this universe allows me to live.
The average life expectancy for men in the U.S. is 79, women 81. This means our mid-life crisis is around 40 years old. Who made us believe it was in our 50s? I guess TV. To celebrate my mid-life crisis milestone birthday, I’ve decided to shave the side of my head. Think Rihanna cirica 2012. I’ve always wanted to do it and what better time than now. It’s also a lot cheaper than buying a fancy car or getting Kybella.
So my good friend Keith came over and helped me out, buzzing my head on the front porch. It was exhilarating! And I think it looks pretty good.
If you’re approaching a milestone birthday my unsolicited advice is to embrace it. Don’t post anything weird on Facebook. Do something silly, winter swim in the ocean, get botox, shave your head – anything that makes you smile. We’ re all so fortunate to be breathing on this planet earth, in NYC, in our special oceanside community.
Anyway, I got to wait a few more years, but I’m already looking forward to peppering off-color comments with “I’m pushing 50!”
by Paula D.
on January 16, 2021 8:58 am in Family
Since reading the article in The Wave two weeks ago about Annie McMahon, I’ve been thinking so much about my cousin Tommy, who also suffered from Cystic Fibrosis.
In the beginning, everything seemed normal with my cousin growing up. My godparents never let on to all the troubles and pain they lived with.
Tommy was my cool, older cousin, always messing around and being nutty. I remember the block parties in Brooklyn, on Herbert street where my great aunt lived. I’ll never forget the time I was running down the street screaming for dear life. Tommy being 8 years older than me, easily caught up, grabbed the back of my shirt and poured a bucket of ice water down my back. I think I was laughing and crying at the same time!
At family parties we would have eating competitions – meatballs, hotdogs, chicken wings or whatever was in the sternos. All the cousins would chant for their favorite. The excitement grew as some of the kids visibly slowed down and the winner became apparent. It was always Tommy or my cousin Steven who won.
I was around 10 or 11 years old. The phone rang in the middle of the night. It was the call. My Mom woke the kids up to tell us the news. Tommy was getting lungs! I remember feeling excited and happy. Before I went back to bed though, I saw my mom sitting at the kitchen table with her rosary beads.
I think we visited Tommy once or twice in the hospital. I don’t remember much about his recovery. We were blessed, his new lungs were not rejected. And things got back to “normal”.
Tommy and my sisters would go out to the city to the Limelight. And he took Maria to her first concert, Nirvana… oh I wish! As I got older we’d also go out to bars, Halloween parties or just hang out at my mom’s house or Tommy’s apartment.
I’m so glad my cousin got to know my husband Matt. Tommy came to his band’s shows sometimes in Brooklyn. I remember once we were driving to Galapagos. We took two cars, I guess there were a lot of us. I turned on a yellow and he followed and got pulled over. He was mad, but didn’t let on too much.
He knew so much about music. And he was hilarious. I swear he could have been a famous radio personality or podcaster. I remember so many times laughing so hard my stomach hurt. He had that gift.
Tommy was at my wedding, this was 2009. He didn’t get up from the table. He was pretty sick again at this point but I know he wanted to be there for me.
I remember once Tommy telling me something to the effect of, “I can’t stand when people complain about being hungover, I’m sick all the time and I can’t do anything about it.” I know he was angry about his circumstances. I think of this a lot, at times when I drink too much. What a waste of time and health.
I participated in Annie’s plunge in 2011, after Tommy passed away the month before on January 21st. People were taking shots to warm up beforehand. I didn’t partake. The adrenaline rush of plunging into 35 degree water was better than any high alcohol could have given me that day. I raised $2,300 and I still feel proud of that.
Tommy was only 38 years old when he passed away. Now that I’m older than he was, it feels so surreal. He was too young. It drives me crazy when I hear people talk about ignoring a birthday or saying negative things about getting old. I always think of my cousin when this happens. I’ll make a light comment, “Well, I’m glad I’m just here on planet earth!” But it’s not a joke. We should be grateful for every day we have. They are so precious.
Diseases like Cystic Fibrosis have a ripple effect on families and friends. I’m thankful to share only a little bit about my cousin with you. There is so much more!
Annie’s has a story too. If you missed this article published a few weeks back, here.
You’ve seen Anthony Medina’s byline in the paper. He’s one of The Wave’s beat reporters. But he’s also an expert Coquito-maker, and this is the second year his family has been selling their version of the holiday beverage.
In Spanish, Coquito means little coconut. It’s a traditional Christmas and New Year’s drink that originated in Puerto Rico. It’s made with Puerto Rican rum, coconut milk, cream of coconut, and sweetened condensed milk. Other spices and flavoring can be added like ginger, anise, nutmeg, cinnamon, or egg yolk.
A few weeks back Anthony came into the office with a few bottles that Ray Vann, The Wave’s Community Editor ordered. It was deadline day, and once the paper was sent to the printer, Ray opened a bottle for us to celebrate with.
After our taste-test, I had to order some for myself. I bought some for my family as gifts and one bottle for myself. Anthony delivered the coquito beautifully wrapped and it came with shot glasses. This drink is meant to be sipped slowly.
I opened mine on Christmas day and enjoyed it in front of the Christmas tree with my new Mariah Carey Christmas record spinning. The Medina coquito is strong but not overbearing. It is rich and creamy with coconut overtones. There’s a kick and spice but I couldn’t’ exactly place those flavors … delicious. I’m only bothered that I didn’t order several more bottles!
Elizabeth Medina whipping up two batches. Photo courtesy of Anthony Medina
The Medinas are 100% Puerto Rican and Anthony’s mother Elizabeth Medina has been making coquito for over 30 years. The family prides itself on using the best, most authentic procedures, and ingredients.
“Our Coquito recipe is a combination of Puerto Rican minds, my mother says. It comes from my great grandmother who had a passion for coquito and taught my mother,” Anthony told me. “It’s gone through some changes in terms of where the ingredients come from, but the basics stay the same. She also doesn’t use eggs. That’s what really makes it stand out from eggnog.”
No corners are cut, and that’s why the Medina family recipe tastes so great!
I was curious about the name of their product, “Coquito Coño”, Anthony said, “The name Coquito Coño was something that came together in a playful way. The second word there is somewhat of a profanity. We wanted to establish how people would react when they took a sip. The translation is something close to “damn.” People would say “Coño this Coquito is good.”
As for many small businesses, this year was a tremendous challenge for the Medina coquito enterprise. Despite this, the family wanted to continue their coquito tradition regardless of the cost benefit. “We still wanted to sell, knowing everyone was going through hardships and needed a little distraction from our grim reality. Coquito is really a comfort drink and something to humble the soul, so anytime we’re making it, we’re just trying to make people enjoy the most of their lives.”
While orders are finished for this holiday season, check out Medina’s new website coquitocono.wordpress.com for more background on this special family recipe.
by Paula D.
on December 31, 2020 1:16 pm in Plants
Monica Glynn, my work friend and The Wave’s Administrative Associate, asked me last week knowing I’m a “plant person,” “What’s the history of mistletoe?” Umm… I actually have know idea,” I said. We both thought, “This would be a timely column.”
I remember the mistletoe in my home growing up as a kid. It wasn’t fancy, the exact opposite actually. Our mistletoe was a round ball made of hard plastic leaves and red berries. It had a vine of more plastic leaves that my father would hang from the light fixture in our kitchen. Why the kitchen and not the traditional doorway location? I’m guessing we had the most foot traffic in the kitchen and so, that would be the easiest location to snag multiple kisses!
On my quest to answer Monica’s question about the significance of mistletoe, I learned from the almighty internet the most interesting of facts that reveal the plant’s symbolism.
Mistletoe is an obligate hemiparasitic plant – meaning a parasitic organism that lives on host plants. So it can’t reproduce without its host. In this case, mistletoe is keen on apple, oak, maple, elm, pine, and birch trees.
Mistletoe is an evergreen, producing berries in the winter. They’re quite attractive, revealing themselves on bare trees and against white snow. Celtic Druids of the 1st century A.D. believed that this plant’s ability to produce its fruit despite frozen winter temperatures was a sign of fertility. So they used mistletoe medicinally on themselves and animals. So many Christian traditions are founded on pagan mysticism and this too is one of them, in a modified form.
There are other references to the origins of the luck and love mistletoe bestows in Norse folklore. How these ancient customs extended to modern day is up for debate. The custom continued through the Middle Ages in various forms to the 18th century, transforming from sacred herb to a holiday decoration.
It is thought that the tradition of kissing under the mistletoe started among servants in England before extending to the middle classes. It is said that men were allowed to steal a kiss from anyone caught under the herb and if the women refused, it was bad luck. I wonder who came up with that one…
My friend Matt Johnson adorned his St. Nicholas garb for a caroling event this past weekend. Mistletoe would have been perfect for his beard and staff but his adornments are beautiful nonetheless.
Wishing all of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year filled with love and good fortune!
