Designer of stuff. Blogger. Politically blue. Shoes pink.
Angel Flags are designed to enhance your Christmas and Hanukkah experience.
You can choose from a variety of angels dressed in the flags of various countries and causes.
Angel Flags shows your angel on a variety of products. Choose gift wrapping supplies, party supplies, and some gifts.
Designs on Angel Flags feature both Hanukkah and Christmas colors.
Check out https://www.zazzle.com/store/angelflags
Check out Angel Flags 2 at http://www.zazzle.com/store/angelflags2
Hot or bright pink is the most noticeable color in this design, showing in this collection of accessories with a feminine hard rock Christian theme. Because, who says Christians are stuffy?
First of all, the collection includes a tote bag, watch, and heart shaped compact. In addition you will find nail stickers, three different keychains, lapel pin, locket, necklace and a ring. Finally, see all the rest of products with this design at Pink Zig Zag Crosses at 100 Crosses
In creating the design, Auntie Shoe took a cross from a freeware font that the font maker allowed her to have. She colored it a hot or bright pink. Because it looked a little sparse, she placed in on a white, circular background that mimics a fractal-style. Surrounding the circle is a matching pink background of squiggly squares. What are squiggly squares? Squiggly squares is the name Auntie gave the background image because she didn’t know what else to call it.
Auntie Shoe loves pink. In her advancing age, she has stopped caring what people think of the color. Yes, there is a story here. Auntie’s daddy and his friend, Lars, who Auntie adored when she was nine, discussed favorite colors in front of her. They agreed that people that liked pink were a little dull. And, as young child Auntie mistakenly believed that her Uncle Lars would not love her anymore if she liked pink. Hey, she was nine. But, in her advancing years, Auntie realizes that this is silly and she can like pink if she wishes. She does. So she does.
Auntie Shoe placed this collection at Pinterest in a group board she posts in called Accessorize Your Life. You can see a lot of different items there with a ton of gift ideas for mom and your favorite grad. It is a great place to find birthday gifts for any lady in your life. Also, there are a lot of tote bags that are always handy for any occasion.
Also, you can follow Auntie Shoe at Pinterest by clicking here.
This is a test to see if Auntie Shoe can use some particular code correctly. So far, looking good for Auntie.
For the test, Auntie Shoe chose to use code found on Zazzle for those who have shops there. Auntie Shoe only has about a gazillion shops. The newest one with any large amount of designs is Shamrock Flags found at www.zazzle.com/store/ShamrockFlags. It is pretty much what you would expect, shamrocks with flags in each leaf. Makes it easy for Irish Americans, who have more heritages than just Irish and American, to celebrate themselves.
All the designs in this series feature the flag of Ireland in the top leaf and the USA flag on the left leaf. The right leaf changes, depending on the country used.
In our test case here, it is the German flag that fills the leaf on the right. The product shown is a necklace watch for her. in this case, a sparkling golden one . It has white numbers that are easy to see and the German Shamrock tilts a bit to the right. Just for a bit of whimsical fun.
Now, just because this is a test, is no reason for you not to rush off and take a closer look at this great gift for mom.
And, folks, THEY AREN’T TERRIBLE. Really, they aren’t. This is an oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe that actually tastes good.
Your Auntie Shoe is a diabetic. So, she has to watch her sugar intake. Also, diabetics need to be careful of fat and salt so we don’t end up in the emergency room with heart failure. In essence, we are like everybody else, just needing to be a bit more careful.
Your Auntie Shoe misses cookies. And cakes. And pies. And, well, anything that tastes good. That said, Auntie read some stuff here and there including an interview with a Greek cook who uses Greek yogurt in place of butter in baked goods. Measures it like for like, she does. So, Auntie thought this was good information for her own oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe.
And, most importantly, your Auntie thought, “That I can remember”. Auntie Shoe likes stuff that is measured the same when substituted.
So, armed with this new information, Auntie Shoe went looking on the Internet for an oatmeal cookie recipe to alter. She wanted to get more carbs out of the recipe. This is hard because oatmeal and raisins have, naturally, a higher carb content than many other types of cookies.
Finally, your Auntie decided to use the recipe on the back of her aged oatmeal box, with some major alterations.
First, substitute the wheat flour for almond flour/meal. Auntie used Bob’s Red Mill. But next time she is going to use Trader Joe’s when she makes an oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe.
Next, add some xanthan gum. 1/4 teaspoon for every cup of flour. That’s what it says on the package. Got that from Bob, too. You have to add this because flour has gluten and almond meal does not. Cookies look icky otherwise. Taste fine, just crumble to nothing and look stupid. So far, so good for Auntie Shoe’s oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe.
Oh, yeah, remember the part about Auntie Shoe being a diabetic? Well, that means you substitute Monk Fruit for the sugar. Auntie used a brand name Monk Fruit in the Raw because it measures the same and Auntie didn’t have to do any fancy math, er, math at all, in her oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe.
One thing is no one makes a substitute for brown sugar. Sooo, Auntie just used the monk fruit stuff. Tastes fine. Some think too sweet. Others not sweet enough. So, you decide.
Anyway….here is the list of ingredients you will need for the oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe:
1 cup 2% Fat Greek Yogurt (Auntie used Trader Joe’s house brand. Make sure yours is 2% fat AND Greek, too.)
1 1/2 cups Monk Fruit in the Raw
4 egg whites
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/2 cups almond flour or meal
3/8 teaspoon xanthan gum
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
3 cups oats NOT COOKED
1 Cup raisins
The Monk fruit sweetener is very, very, very light. When you mix it, it flies all over the place. Soooo, place the monk fruit in a large bowl. In a smaller bowl, add the egg whites and vanilla. Stir a little bit. Add about half of the egg mixture to the monk fruit.
Stir SLOWLY. SERIOUSLY, VERY, VERY, VERY SLOOOOOOOWLY. See that big mess you have to clean up all over the counter because the monk fruit flew all over the place? Yeah, you didn’t do as your Auntie Shoe said, did you?
Add the rest and stir till blended. STILL, STIR SLOWLY.
Next, add the yogurt. Stir until fully blended. You can stir as fast as you like. Once the monk fruit is wet, it doesn’t fly all over your kitchen. And, you nevermind how Auntie Shoe got this information.
In another bowl, add the almond meal, xanthan gum, baking soda and cinnamon. Mix it.
Gradually add the almond meal mixture to the yogurt mixture. Next add the oats, one cup at a time. Lastly, mix in the raisins. Now the oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe is ready to be baked.
Drop them in rounded teaspoon fulls on a cookie sheet. Auntie used baking parchment paper on the sheet, not anything greasy or sprayed. Nothing stuck. Worked great. You can use your own judgement. THERE IS NO BUTTER IN THESE, SO THEY WILL STICK UNLESS YOU DO SOMETHING.
When the first batch baked, Auntie Shoe discovered that they do not spread like normal oatmeal cookies. DUH! No butter…Sooooo, in subsequent batches, Auntie used a spoon or her fingers to spread the cookie dough out a bit. ‘Cause, honey, those suckers do NOT budge unless you help them. Just be helpful to your lovely little cookies and all will be well. They pretty much look like any normal oatmeal raisin cookie.
Auntie Shoe read that cookies made with almond meal need a lower temperature for baking, as well as a lower time. This includes her oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe. Soooooo….
Oven at 335 degrees. Seriously, 335.
Baking time about 10 to 12 minutes. Cookies came out chewy and nice. Cool on wire rack for about 10 minutes before eating.
Even the person in the household that NEVER likes ANYTHING that is healthy, actually likes this oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe.
Keep them in the refrigerator. They have yogurt in them, not butter. Yogurt spoils faster.
Makes about 40.
Carb count? About 6 per cookie. That’s what it averaged when Auntie divided the number of cookies created into the total carbs for the entire oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe.
Calories? About 37 per cookie. Again, added up all the calories for all the ingredients and divided by the number of cookies baked.
Meantime, the blog has a nag feature for a picture. This is the best your poor old Auntie can do 
Now for all the disclosure stuff…Auntie Shoe makes her living from selling items with designs she creates at various print-on-demand sites all over the Internet. She does NOT receive any compensation from any of the people whose ingredients she purchased to make the oatmeal raisin diabetic cookie recipe. Not a dime. Honest. These tradespeople have no idea Auntie even exists. She just went to various markets and stores in her vicinity and bought stuff like a normal person.
If you feel you must compensate Auntie Shoe for her lovely recipe, visit any of her shops. Just look at the menu above for “Auntie Shoe’s POD Shops”. Or click here for her shops at Zazzle.
Toksie Turbie, Santa, Zanta, The Mrs. Clauses, Waldorf and your Auntie Shoe wish you a
Merry Christmas
Happy Chanukah
Happy Kwanzaa
Happy Holidays
Merry Meet
Or whatever you celebrate, celebrate with love and peace in your heart. Take joy in your celebrations!
Ms. Toksie Turbie arrived in Crudville in a most unusual fashion. Having fallen from an airplane, she landed, safely and miraculously, on a very large and very convenient hay stack on Farmer Frank’s farm.
Farmer Frank sighed and said, “Here we go, again.” With that, he picked up the baby (Toksie Turbie was only a few months old) and took her to Sheriff Stephanie. Sheriff Stephanie looked at the baby, looked at Frank and signed, “Oh, Frank, agaaaaaaaaaaain?!”
Sheriff Stephanie took Toksie Turbie to Mayor Mike. Mayor Mike looked at the baby, sighed a loooooong, sloooooow siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh and said, “Ooooooh, Stephanie, here we go agaaaaaain.”
You see, nearly forty years ago, when all these people were small themselves, another baby had fallen from the sky, from a different airplane. No one knew how this happened. No one ever figured out how the first baby fell out of the plane, nor did they ever figure out how Toksie Turbie fell, but fall they did.
And, well, the first time did not go very well for Crudville.
At this point in our story, it is important to learn a bit about the first baby that fell on the Farmer’s haystack. But first, we need to know a little bit about Crudville.
There is no “B” in Crudville, but if there were, it would stand for BORING. Not just any kind of boring. A special kind that looks like this:
BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG
Why was Crudville so boring? Well, for one thing, ALL the houses and all the farms and all the shops and all the everything were painted beige. NO other colors were allowed in Crudville. It was against the law to paint anything any other color than beige. Yes, really, not joking. It was against the law. All the doors, all the window jams, all the fences, all the walls, EVERYTHING, including the furniture, were painted beige.
Now, there is nothing wrong with a beautiful beige home or a beautiful beige shop or a beautiful beige anything, including the furniture. Beige is a perfectly OK color. But if EVERYTHING is beige, it is really
BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG
Plus, everything had to be the same shade of beige. So, with all the furniture and the walls being beige, sometimes people couldn’t find the sofa in their own house. It was beige, same shade as the walls. Lots of times people in Crudville only found a place to sit because they bumped into the furniture. In spite of the bruises, they wouldn’t change the law, they just kept bumping into things.
And, everyone dressed alike in the same shade of beige as the houses and the shops and the fences. It was so bad, some people lost their babies when they were just crawling on the floor. Yes, the floor was beige, too.
All the homes were exactly alike. Three bedrooms, two baths, dining area, kitchen, period. Same floor plan. All beige paint. All beige bathtubs, sinks, and unmentionable utilities. Everything matched and you could hardly ever find anything.
BBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGG
Crudville had all kinds of laws to make sure that it remained boring. It is how Crudvillians liked it. You couldn’t dance in Crudville. Considered too frivolous. You were not allowed to ride skateboards or roller skate or play with any toys. Again, too frivolous. There was no TV or video games and absolutely no computers. Again, too frivolous. No reading either. Books were declared frivolous.
Now, this is what Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass III, Morty for short, had fallen into when he fell out of the plane all those decades ago. Crudville and Morty never got on. Because Morty loved hats. He had sixty-four of them by the time he was nine-years-old. He could ride a unicycle (which he rode incessantly) and balance the hats on his head at the same time. AND, worst of all, NONE of the hats were beige. Not a single one.
The town council passed ordinance after ordinance to try to force Morty to behave properly. NOTHING worked. It was bedlam from the time he fell from the sky till the day the circus came to town. Yes, circuses were banned, too. Again with the frivolous thing. But, not before the circus master gave Morty an audition. Now, as you can imagine any kid that can balance sixty-four hats on his head while riding a unicycle got hired on the spot.
And that’s how Crudville got rid, er, bid farewell to Morty and he began his own magical adventures in the circus. No one in Crudville ever gave Morty another thought until Toksie Turbie fell from the sky.
So now you know why Farmer Frank, Sheriff Stephanie and Mayor Mike were so concerned about Toksie Turbie.
Here they had the cutest little baby girl, who had fallen from the sky just like Morty. Not only that, Toksie Turbie fell in the same farm on the same haystack (well, it had new hay) as all those decades earlier.
But, the trio was heartened by the fact that Toksie Turbie was beige. Her hair, her eyes, her skin and even her teeth were beige. “Maybe it won’t be so bad this time”, they said.
Watch this space for the continuing adventures of Toksie Turbie.
Now it is time to feed the SEO NAG MONSTER. It wants an outbound link. So, for now, I am going to feed it the link to one of my shops. Then it will shut up. You can visit my shop and if you find something lovely, you are welcome to buy it.
ink.flagnation.com — designs using flags of various countries.
Toksie Turbie, Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass, III, Crudville are the properties of Auntie Shoe. Invented solely by her. Auntie Shoe is the pseudonym of a real live person. All writings, images, etc are solely owned by Auntie Shoe. All images and writing are ©AuntieShoe 2013 or © 2013 Auntie Shoe. Either way, all this stuff is MINE and Auntie will be very cross if anyone steals from her.
The world is about to be introduced to a new character. Her name is Toksie Turbie and she is eight-years-old.
Toksie Turbie is named for the actress with a cool name, Toks Olagundoye, who plays Jackie Joyner-Kersee on ABC TV’s THE NEIGHBORS (8:30 PM Fridays, but check your local listings). Ms. Olagundoye was kind enough to allow Auntie to use her name for the character. THANKS, TOKS! BTW, following Toks Olagundoye on Twitter is a terrific experience. She’s got a great sense of humor and it is lots of fun conversing with her. There is also her Facebook page and her website. You’ll have a blast!
OK, enough about Ms. Olagundoye with the cool name. You are here to find out about Toksie Turbie.
Decades ago, before Auntie Shoe was an auntie, she had some wee little cousins many years younger than herself. Her job, a pleasant one, often was to keep said wee ones quiet. This was not always easy. So, the future Auntie Shoe would gather aforementioned cousins around, sometimes under a great big tree in the front yard of a place called Willow Glen. If weather did not permit sitting under said tree, the secret room was, at times, employed. Or, adventures on the flying bed would occur.
Wee ones gathered, Shoe would make up stories about a young person called Mortimer Thaddeus Snodgrass III, Morty for short. Morty had a magical wishing ring and a magical wishing hat and he had magical stuff happen all the magical time. Only one or two of these stories have survived because no one wrote them down. This is unfortunate.
Several years ago, when Auntie Shoe had a different persona on a place called AOL, she wrote a newsletter for children for a very brief time. She took some of her stories, one or two about Morty, and placed them in serial form in the newsletter.
One day, Auntie (though she was not yet, Auntie) was contacted by the parent of a child who received the newsletter. The parent had a book series for children in the works and was very concerned that Auntie might think her work was being copied because the book series was about a boy with magical powers. Some kid named Harry, as Auntie recalls.
Auntie read, in an instant message, all the lovely things that the parent planned to write, the plans the writer was making and how the series of books was being plotted. Auntie assured the writer, “Honey, I just sit down and make stuff up, planning has nothing to do with it.” And, thus, Auntie’s opportunity to request the petty cash fund from what became a billion dollar enterprise was lost forever. Yeah, honesty pays off, right?
All this said, it occurred to Auntie that someone, somewhere might think that Morty’s character was stolen or borrowed. In the interest of avoiding unpleasantness, a strong, fun, female character named Toksie Turbie will soon be born on this blog.
Why? Because your Auntie Shoe needs something to write about on this blog. And making stuff up to entertain people is what she does best.
So, watch this space for the continuing adventures of Toksie Turbie.
Your Auntie Shoe has been thinking for several months about the direction of this blog. Yes, part of it is to get you to take a look at her shops and buy something, less Auntie be forced to hit the street with some hand-made sign indicating her need for income. But, Auntie has several blogs that serve the purpose of promotion of various stuffs created by her. Keep reading to find out what this has to do with George Takei.
This blog is meant to be a little bit of everything. Mostly, so your Auntie Shoe can keep better track of herself. And, with so many different topics (flags, politics, humor, awards, religion and more) in her design repertoire, she kind of needs a “flagship” blog. So, this is it. What’s George Takei got to do with it?
Well, your Auntie Shoe follows George Takei everywhere. No, not in a stalking sort of way, in a Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest sort of way. Mr. Takei makes Auntie laugh. Auntie often needs a good laugh. (who doesn’t.) George makes Auntie think. Thinking is a good thing. He sends a variety of interesting items to his followers. Humor, politics, art, and much much more. Your Auntie would like to do that, too.
Several months ago, Auntie read an online article about how to get the likes of you, the reader, to follow, buy, donate, or whatever the goal is, of a particular online endeavor. The article specifically mentioned Mr. Takei and warned against doing what he does, even though the actor does it very well. Basically, it said that only George can get away with doing what George does and, don’t do it.
Auntie has never been one to do as she is told.
In your Auntie’s thought processes she has compared and contrasted herself to George Takei. They are counterparts, in slight ways. Auntie is female. George is not. Auntie is a Roman Catholic. George is a Buddhist. George is from a generation ahead of Auntie. George is Asian-American, Auntie is Caucasian-American. George is married, Auntie not so much. George is fit and trim. Auntie’s doctor believes there is room for improvement for Auntie.
Those are the ways in which George Takei and Auntie Shoe differ. But the things they have in common are worth considering, as well. For example, both Auntie and George prefer men as romantic partners. Yet, both believe that whom one loves is no one else’s business. George’s art is his acting and writing. Auntie likes to write, but she also makes fun designs to sell on stuff. She did act a little in high school and took a class in college, but she’s no George Takei in that area. Yet, in their own way, each is an artist of some kind. Auntie has seen every episode of Star Trek ever made. George was in them.
George excels at putting a smile on people’s faces. Auntie would like to think she does that, as well. At least, she would like to make an attempt.
Mostly, at this juncture in her life, your Auntie Shoe thinks it is high time she had some fun on this here Internet. So, in this blog anyway, she will write what she feels like writing and let the chips fall where they may. Hope George doesn’t mind…
Here is a link to Mr. Takei’s blog. There are links there to his Facebook page and other ways to follow him. Remember, Auntie said FOLLOW, not stalk. Two COMPLETELY different things!
www.georgetakei.com
Mr. Takei wrote a book. Click on the picture to find out more. Auntie will not receive any funds for this. She just wanted a picture of George and this was the best way to get one.
This is the story of a 10-year-old girl (me) and a famous Italian American baseball player (why ruin the suspense?). It takes place in San Francisco, in the mid-1960’s. This blog post is dedicated to comedian Billy Crystal. An explanation will be given at the end.
It begins very simply. I was a student at the Sts. Peter and Paul’s Grammar School in a, mostly, Italian American neighborhood. We had moved back to San Francisco about a year earlier. We did not have a television until later that year, and I was never a big sports fan.
Even though I was only 10, I had a great deal of freedom. Things were different back then, then they are now, you could let your child walk all over the streets of the North Beach area of San Francisco, without any fear. On my travels with my parents, friends, or alone I had often noticed a tall man in a light-colored suit. Always the same color. Everybody seemed to know him and he smiled and waved at everyone that acknowledged him.
One day, I was walking home from school and I noticed that the man in the light-colored suit was walking to my left. Because I was 10, I just said, “Hi”. He smiled and said, “Hello”. And we talked for a while. He asked me about school and stuff. He asked me my name, and I told him. Then I asked him his name. He got a kind of funny look on his face and he said, “You don’t know my name?”
I thought to myself, “Why would I know your name?”, but I just said “No.”
He asked me if I liked baseball, and I shook my head “no”.
He laughed and he said “That’s for boys.” And I nodded my head “yes”.
He asked me if I watched much television, and I told him we didn’t have one.
He asked if I was new in the neighborhood, and I told him, a little indignantly, that my parents and I had lived there about a year. To, me, that was not new. But he said, that that was not a very long time, as some people had lived there for many, many years.
After a little more question and answer, the tall man in the light-colored suit told me to call him “Joe”.
Now, I am ten. And I know that no way, no how, am I supposed to call a grown-up by his first name. I asked him his last name, figuring I would call him “Mr. Whateverlastnamewas”. But he insisted that I should just call him, “Joe”.
Well, that was something I just could not do. I mean this guy had gray hair and everything. I mean it was ALL grey. There was no way I was gonna be calling him by his first name. I remembered a story my mom had told me about a Southern family for whom she used to babysit. The children were never to call her by her first name, nor her last. She had the title of “Miss”, followed by her first name.
So, I said to the nice, tall, reeeeeeeally old man (I mean, with all that grey hair he must have been at LEAST a zillion years old), “I better call you Mr. Joe.”
Mr. Joe tried to convince me that it was OK, that all the other kids did.
And I remembered my father asking me, whenever I said all the other kids were doing something he didn’t want me to do, “If all the other kids jumped off the Golden Gate bridge, would you do it, too?” So, I stood my ground to the tall man in the light-colored suit, and insisted that I would call him, “Mr. Joe”.
For a long time, on a regular basis, Mr. Joe and I walked the same route for a few blocks. He was going to work at a restaurant. I was going home from school. I remember feeling a little sad for him that he had to work at night. But we used to chat about this and that.
Sometimes, when he was playing baseball with the boys from the Sts. Peter and Paul’s Boys Club, he would see me walking past and holler for me to wait. He would run to catch up to me.
I never thought it was odd that a man of his years would want to talk to a child of my young years. I do not know why, but I didn’t. And I enjoyed talking to him. Mr. Joe was tall and he made me feel important. And he listened to me as if the happenings of my fourth grade year actually mattered.
Sometimes he would talk a little bit about his wife. She had died and I felt that that was sad.
Our schedules changed, probably Mr. Joe’s more than mine, and I no longer saw him regularly. I would see him playing bocci ball in the North Beach courts with the other old men. They always seemed to be happy to play with him and, it seemed to me, treated him as though he were very special. The old Italian men always got a puzzled look on their faces when I said, “Hello, Mr. Joe”.
There was nothing to the “relationship” we had. Just two people in a big city that talked now and again. It ended because we stopped running into each other.
And then, when I was 12, my parents and I moved to the other side of San Francisco, to an area known as Eureka Valley.
Now, by this time we had a TV. I was happy about this addition to our family’s modern conveniences. And I watched it quite often.
One day, or evening, I do not recall which, I see a commercial for this brand spankin’ new coffee machine. You know who was doing the advertising? MR. JOE! Mr. Joe was on TV! But hey, in the beginning of the commercial, he introduced himself and said, “Hello, I’m Joe DiMaggio”.
“HUH!”, I says to myself, “THAT’S Joe DiMaggio?” I knew who Joe DiMaggio was, but I had never seen a picture of him. I thought no one would ever believe me, and I was several years past forty before I told anyone. When I told my mom, she laughed and said that everyone knew him in North Beach, so why did I think she wouldn’t believe me? Well, because when I was twelve, I didn’t think that famous people would ever know me, so why would anyone believe that I met one? When you are twelve, things look different than when you are 40.
When I was an adult, I began to wonder why this grown man would seek out the company of a child. And then I remembered the look on his face when he realized I did not know who he was. He had asked why I was talking to him. I said, “Because you are walking in the same place as me”. He smiled and asked, “So, you just like to be friendly.” I nodded.
When I met Mr. Joe, he was about 57-years-old. I was 9 or 10. I think he liked to talk to me because he knew I just liked him. I didn’t want to play baseball with him. I didn’t want to be around him because he was famous. I just liked him.
Years ago, I was watching something on TV. Billy crystal was interviewed. Apparently, Mr. Crystal is a bit of a baseball fan, particularly the New York Yankees. In the interview, Billy said his major regret in life was that he never had the opportunity to meet Joe DiMaggio.
The irony was not lost on me. Once upon a time, I, a nine or ten-year-old girl, who didn’t even like baseball that much, shared a small part of her day with Mr. Crystal’s idol, and did not even realize that anything special was happening in her life. Moments like those would have meant the world to people like Billy Crystal, who idolized Mr. Joe.
Anyway, that’s why this lens is dedicated to Billy Crystal. Because I am sorry he never got to have the moments I did with the man known as, and who truly was, “Gentleman Joe”.
If you would like to know more about Joe DiMaggio, the Wikipedia thingy about him is here.
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