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Posts Tagged ‘Paul Carpenter’

New Year’s Melancholy.

This is an article I wrote a few years ago as we rang in a New Year. I still get a twinge of sadness, however, with the passing of each old year.

For me, the arrival of a New Year is always tinged with melancholy.

Looking back at the year gone by, a year now filed in the annals of history, I am saddened by how quickly time seems to pass, by how many things change over the course of a year.

I didn’t always feel that way. When I was little, I couldn’t wait for a new year to begin.

Until I was ten or eleven, I used to spend the week between Christmas and New Year’s at my grandma’s house in Hilliard.  I had a very important job to do during the week leading up to New Year’s Eve. I had to make confetti.

Positioned in front of a brown, paper grocery sack, I would sit for hours and cut up every newspaper and magazine in the house to make squares of confetti.

I don’t know where I got the idea that it was absolutely imperative to throw confetti at the stroke of midnight to usher in the New Year.  It was, however, a very important ritual for me. Since I didn’t know where you could actually buy confetti, I made my own.

My aunt hated the confetti.

“I was still picking confetti out of the couch last year in July.”

My aunt lived a few streets over from Grandma and we would go there to spend New Year’s Eve. Although she complained about the confetti, she always let me throw it. Then she would spend the New Year picking paper out of shoes and plants and from between chair cushions.

No matter how well I cleaned up, I always missed some of the confetti.

Grandma liked the confetti and she would toss a handful in the air with me, shouting, “Happy New Year,” along with all the revelers in Times Square on the television.

Besides the confetti, part of the thrill of New Year’s Eve was getting to stay up until midnight, a luxury I was not allowed the rest of the year.

Always afraid of the dark and the monsters I thought lurked in the veil of night, I was glad for any excuse to stay up with the grown ups in the safety of a lighted room.

I especially hated nights with full moons, even though they should have been better because they were not quite so dark.  I did not like the full moon nights because I thought I was going to turn into a werewolf.

I had read a book containing a poem that reportedly would cause the reader to become a werewolf if the poem was recited on the night of a full moon.  Naturally, I was so horrified at the prospect of growing fangs and hair all over my body that I reread the poem over and over in some type of fascinated disgust.  It was the same impulse that caused me to peel bandages back to look at bloodied knees and elbows.

After reading the poem so many times, I, of course, memorized it.  I discovered that the words were firmly embedded in my memory on the night of a full moon.  Playing outside with my cousins, I happened to look at the darkening sky.  There, just appearing on the horizon, was a newly rising full moon.  Of course, the werewolf poem raced into my mind.

I had to say the alphabet repeatedly to drown out the words from the poem.  I was successful at holding the poem at bay and never did become a werewolf.

I knew that when I got older I wouldn’t be afraid of the dark or of becoming a werewolf.  That was also why I liked the New Year.  With each New Year, I got to celebrate another birthday in March.  I got to be a year older.

I wanted to be ten (my first double digit birthday).  I wanted to be a teenager (so sophisticated). I wanted to be sixteen (driver’s license, here I come). I wanted to be eighteen (finally, no longer a little kid). And then suddenly, I was all grown up and I didn’t want time to speed by.  I didn’t want to get older and older and watch the people around me do the same.  I didn’t want those I loved to die and my life be irreversibly changed.

That is the crux of my melancholy at New Year’s.  With each year, there is always someone who is not around to ring in another January.  Grandparents. Uncles. Aunts. Friends. Always someone.

I think New Year’s also makes me sad because January first was Paul Carpenter’s birthday.  With Paul’s death in 2001, his birthday became a day that pointedly marked his absence from my life.

Paul, the pharmacy delivery driver and my dear, dear friend, always proclaimed himself a “New Year’s baby.”  He celebrated on New Year’s Day not only the birth of a new year, but his own birth, as well.

I spent this New Year’s Day celebrating Paul’s birthday, too.  While taking roses to the cemetery, Joe asked me how I thought Paul would make his presence known to me this year.  Because it seems that Paul always does send a message, a reminder of his love, to me each January first.

“I’m not going to look for Paul’s message,” I told Joe as we stood by Paul’s headstone.  “He’ll make me notice whatever it is he wants me to see.”

I went about the day, heeding my mom’s advice that however I spent New Year’s Day was how I’d spend the whole year; a warning I think Mom used on my sister and me when we were children to keep us from fighting and whining for one complete day (nevertheless, we went on to do those very things the rest of the year).

I ate sauerkraut for good luck, a bizarre tradition inherited from long forgotten German relatives.  I don’t eat sauerkraut any other day except on New Year’s Day and I only eat it then at my mom’s insistence.

“You HAVE to eat sauerkraut on New Year’s Day.  Just one bite, even.  You HAVE to.”

Then, as the afternoon lazily drifted away, I drove Mom and Dad home from our sauerkraut eating excursion.

Suddenly, ahead of us there were bright rainbows of color in the gray sky.  Two ultra-light aircrafts circled above us.  I thought of Paul’s headstone.

Etched on to the surface of the gravestone is the image of a man in an ultra-light.  Part machine, part cloth wings, ultra-lights combine the aeronautical engineering of a motor and of a kite.  They are a marriage of old aerodynamics and new.

Paul had been an avid ultra-light flyer when he was younger.  In fact, the card that was passed out at his funeral showed a photo of Paul in an ultra-light with the words, “Now he flies with angels,” written below the picture.

I knew those two radiant, whizzing machines were my New Year’s message from Paul.

Darting and whirling, the ultra-lights looked like exotic, colorful birds in the gloomy January sky.  With their giant wings casting shadows across the earth below, they looked like angels.

My New Year’s melancholy turned to joy.  If I’d had some confetti with me, I would have thrown it into the air in celebration.

Central Ohio Area Agency on Aging, COAAA, Asks, “Do You Know a Dynamic and Dedicated Senior?”

The Central Ohio Area Agency on Aging, COAAA, is currently seeking nominees for their Central Ohio Senior Citizens Hall of Fame. The next induction ceremony and reception will be held on Wednesday, May 18, in Columbus. Inductees receive a lapel pin, a framed portrait from a professional photographer, and a personal recognition on stage from county commissioners, followed by a catered reception with family and friends.

We have nominated or helped nominate three people from Madison County for the Hall of Fame: Paul Carpenter, our former delivery driver and good friend (2001); Richard “The Captain” Murray, Christmas decorator extraordinaire and husband to Ann, who has worked for the drugstore almost from the beginning (2005); and Mary Mitchell, a lady who can do just about anything she sets her mind to (2008). Mary is featured in the above photo, seated second from the left.

If you know someone who is over the age of 60 and has made significant contributions to their community, COAAA wants to know about them. Any individual or organization may nominate a resident of Delaware, Fairfield, Fayette, Franklin, Licking, Madison, Pickaway, or Union County. The person must be 60 years of age or older and a legal resident of Ohio for the past five years. A married couple can also be nominated if they are both equally involved in the same activities and both meet the eligibility requirements.

You can request a nomination form by contacting Bonnie Ackerman, Hall of Fame Coordinator for COAAA, at 614-645-6149 or 1-800-589-7277.  You can also download an application from the COAAA’s web site HERE.

To find out more about the Hall of Fame, go HERE.

The Deadline for nominations is March 10, 2011.

Happy Birthday, Paul Carpenter. We Still Miss You.

January 1, 2011, would have been Paul Carpenter’s 77th birthday. When he died almost 10 years ago (has it really been that long? It seems like only yesterday), he was only 67. Too young to pass from our lives.

Joe and I only knew Paul for two years. Two years! He came into our lives when we opened the drugstore in 1999 and left too quickly on December 15, 2001. How is it possible that you can know someone for only two years and never, ever forget them; never recover from losing them?

It is possible because Paul was our own very special pharmacy angel, the greatest P.R. man ever, and more importantly, a beloved friend.

As many of you know, Paul was our delivery driver when we first opened the drugstore. His wife, Jean, worked behind the counter and since he was always hanging out with us, he decided to help out by taking deliveries each day. Paul would never take a penny for anything he did. He said it was his volunteer work and he did it with pride. Paul loved us and the pharmacy and he helped us build our business by always telling everyone he met what a great drugstore Plain City Druggist was.

We owe a huge portion of our success to Paul Carpenter.

Happy Birthday, Paul. I’d give anything to hear you shout out a hello as you strolled in the pharmacy, sporting your blue fleece “Carpy coat,” looking for “Baby Doll.”

Get Ready For a Parade!

Parade Season is quickly approaching in Plain City. Although, we missed the Memorial Day parade (we were not as fearless as many of the baseball teams and Lions Club members who braved the rain), we will be participating in the Fourth of July Parade on Sunday, July 4 beginning at 3:30 pm and in the Steam Threshers Parade on Friday, July 16 beginning at 6pm. For a complete calendar of Plain City events, including parade information, visit the Village of Plain City web site: Plain City Event Calendar

As most of you know, we are really creative with the “goods” we throw in the parades. From beads (hey, is it Mardi Gras?) to balls and tons of candy, Plain City Druggist delivers the best stuff to our loyal customers.

Plain City Druggist staff and family after an arduous afternoon pitching candy to the crowds. We have our "throwing arms" rested for this year's parades.

It was our former delivery driver, Paul Carpenter, who first started us on the parade route. He was also the person who suggested we bag the candy in plastic baggies with our business card inside so people would know the candy was safe to eat and who had passed it out. Paul also feared for the safety of the kids running into the streets to pick up individual pieces of candy. The baggies eliminated that worry.

The baggie idea has evolved some. Check out the business cards inside. They offer special coupons for parade attendees. So don’t think the goodie bags are just for the kids. Snatch them away if you can!

This is your warning–get ready. Practice up on your catching skills. Bring trash bags for all the treats you’re going to find falling into your lap. Line the parade route early. And have your umbrella on hand–you know Joe loves using his “super soaker” squirt gun.

Everyone Loves a Parade!