An Italian-American Christmas at the Garofalos

Elizabeth and Michael Garofola know how to throw a great party. He's a joker, but not a toker, like his dad, Rico. Neither Rico nor Ellen were there, Mike's parents, as they're both gone, as is his brother Tony, who passed on December 11, 2011.

Michael re-introduced me to his Aunt Connie, short for Conchetta, by saying I had wrin a poem for Tony which was read at his funeral last year.

Here's Aunt Connie who came to America from Italy when she was 7.

Her late brother was 13 when the family arrived. He had a slight Italian accent. She said that if you arrive by the time you're 10, you usually don't have an accent.

Like my Aunt Selma, who's 94, Aunt Connie developed mac degeneration about 7 years ago. At 93, she still bakes delicious Italian delicacies, tho she gave up making Honey Balls which sounded scrumptious!

She lives by herself tho her daughter Patty lives a few doors down. Connie loves her independence. With such a big family, there's no need to cloister people in old age homes.

Yes!

This is part of my dessert plate. Karen, mother of 3-yo Gabe, made the shortcake on the right.

Let's hear it for the shortcake! It's made with only five ingredients: flour, butter, sugar, fresh rosemary (!) and salt. My mom wants to make something for my birfday party and I think I'll order the shortbread. You could taste the salt and it was deee-licious!

To the left are Dream Bars, which I remembered from last year's funeral celebration.

Many generations were represented at the family. Absolutely beautiful young people who paid attention to everyone, even me, an outsider.

Here are some of the delicious things this five-foot gal ate with gusto:

Tomato Pie from Sam's Italian Market



Fried chicken from Aldie Supermarket dipped in a hot buffalo wing sauce.
Half a piece of Ruth's whole wheat bread spread with butter

Green beans
Olives on the appetizer tray
Asparagus from the app tray
Marinated mushrooms
Marinated zucchini

You know how much I love houses! This is the basement family room with soft carpet. Many toddlers attended the party like blond blue-eyed pink-cheeked Andrew in Mom's arms. He looked like a cherub in a Little Golden Book.

Hiding in a corner in the laundry room was a new baby kitten. See if you can find it. I sure can't. Its nest  is in front of the white laundry basket. Double-click and ye shall find.

Remember Tino? That was Tony's tiny dog he bought after his dad Rico died. Tino is now living on five acres of land in Michigan at the home of Elizabeth's parents.


Woof woof, hello y'all back east!

With a drum roll from Garrett, Santa strode into the house. Brother Stephano in yellow is wearing his new glasses. Everyone said he looked great in them.

Parents brought gifts which Michael stowed in his car and then gave to Santa who comes complete with his own white beard and glasses.

After saying goodbye, I went outside and adored the Baby Jesus in the manger. I'm one Jew who really loves the Christmas story and admire Christ for standing up for his beliefs.

Guess what I did first thing upon coming home? The usual.....checking my emails, reading The Times, all procrastinatory measures for getting on my stationery bike.

I rode for half an hour while watching Downton Alley, or maybe it's Downtown Abbey. Held my interest while I pedaled away.

And now if you'll excuse me, Scott is waiting for me. What movie will we watch tonite?

Tree Trimmers - Baking Holiday Breads - Working on Kidney Memoir / Poem: The Last Silver Maple

Dyou believe this shit? Gun control? Never in America. Politicians are cowards. What better time than now to advocate for gun control?

Yes, yes, I know we say that after every mass murder.

I'm trying to find a Gun Control website where I can take action.

Here's two:

CeaseFire of Pennsylvania and the James Brady Foundation. Brady has made a remarkable recovery after a bullet entered his head during John Hinckley's assassination attempt on Reagan. He can now walk, after having been confined to a wheelchair, and can speak clearly.

Hopefully, Gabby Giffords will have a similar recovery.

Hobensack Landscape Service trimmed my silver maple tree in the backyard, one of only three remaining maples from when I moved in here in 1990.

What an adventure watching the limbs come down. If only my kids were little, we would've been outside cheering them on.

I was in my green Starbux apron making breads when they arrived.

This braided whole-wheat beauty is baking in the oven now. One for birfday boy, Scott; one for Nancy and Linda across the street and one for YOU! Send me an email.

I can barely eat any of my bread cuz it causes my sugar to spike and I don't want no diabetes complications. I love my little piggie-wiggies.

The next chapter Sarah assigned me in our two-person Kidney Memoir is my  Kidney-Healthy Diet to preserve kidney function while I was in the last stages of renal failure.

Man, it was tough! Well, lemme put it this way. I wanted to LIVE, so I had no problem sticking to the diet and that included a Mediterranean Cruise Sarah and I took.

Can you see me pat my new kidney, courtesy of Sarah Lynn?

Here's the maple as seen from my upstairs baffroom window. Reason I spell it 'baffroom' is b/c it's faster than the real way.

The bathroom itself has undergone a transformation.

These are my new lavendar-colored rugs. Originally they were white and looked as if beach towels were spread across the floor. Bot em at my new favorite store, Walmart.

Don't worry, little stores. I still shop at you too! I'm an equal justice shopper.

After making numerous phone calls I went to Walmart to buy RIT DYE to dye the rugs.

Previously, I had two rugs on the floor which had stuck fast to the tile. Scott scraped them off and the muscle-man continued to scrub the floor with detergent and water.

Arrival of Hobensack Landscape Company.

The tree-climber is Alfredo from Guatemala. Doesn't speak English.

Alfredo is secured by ropes to another part of the tree.

Here's the branch cruncher. Pretty loud. They had the street secured off. They know what they're doing. I love efficiency, don't you?

This is the finished tree. Gone is the deadwood. $280. Jason Hobensack told me that there were no squirrels in the "back-up" nest on my tree. Their main nest, he said, is probly in the lil woods behind my house. Only one squirrel lives in a nest at a time, he said. Gosh, they don't have anyone to cuddle with.

Lifespan of a silver maple is 40-60 years, he said. Mine can last another 15 to 20, now that she's trimmed.

It's a little nervewracking watching Alfredo up there. I was kneading my bread but watching out the window since it was like an exciting show on the TV.

Fini.

THE LAST MAPLE

When I moved in
twenty-two years ago
you were one of three:
three silver maple sisters
How can I, a woman,
"own" a tree, but that’s what we
call it here in America

You chose to grow in the backyard
to harbor woodpeckers who kept you
free of disease
and oh, those leaves of yours I watch
from every back window in my house

Your two sisters passed before you
Asplundh took them down
Phyllis, so upset, I promised I’d plant trees
in Israel
but lied,
what if they planted cypress
in the Gaza Strip?

I looked to your hardiness and lack of judgment
for solace

through my manias and depressions

You gave!
O generous tree of my backyard

The November hurricane
shook you
- "Attempted rape!" I cried
though no one was listening
Your branches fell
with a thud.

I must save you
Jason and his men –
I almost said Jesus and his men –
came out for the surgery

“It’ll survive,” he said, and sent five of his best
to the backyard
moving the birdbath to the deck
while Alfredo from Guatemala – “the
place of many trees” – climbed aboard the way
I did, building a treehouse back in childhood

I watched the drama from my kitchen window.
Saw they never left the climber alone
as he sliced and buzzed with his electric saw
birds and mice scattering
my backyard is welcome to everyone

At noon I say "Hello, Sister Maple"
caress your trunk
so unlike my own
look up at your tall naked branches
daring the winds to topple you
as you soar over my little yellow house
Protect us both, I entreat
as we enter the unknown wilderness
of old age. 

Giant Talk: Coping with Anxiety During the Holiday Season by Chelsea H. Hersperger, Psy. D.

Here's Chelsea Hersperger, Psy. D., relaxing before her talk. One of her gifts is behind her on the table, a magnificent curly poinsettia, personally chosen for me by Eddie Washington who's worked at Kremp Florist for 26 of his 50 years. His family threw a surprise 50th for him at the VFW. Here's an article on Kremp's I wrote.

The second gift was a do-it-yourself kit to make a Kaleidoscope.

Chelsea's talk was absolutely WONDERFUL. And we did indeed have a room full of people, thankfully, who heard it and were very engaged. Chelsea works at the  Anxiety and Agoraphobia Treatment Center in Bala Cynwyd.

 HIGHLIGHTS OF HER TALK:

Anxiety used to be helpful in Caveman Days. The vigilant survived.

Symptoms include: shakiness, fast breathing, heart pounding.

The Yerkes-Dodson Law of 1908 says that performance increases with physiological or mental arousal, but only up to a point. When levels of arousal become too high, performance decreases.

So, some stress is good, but only up to a point.

WHY DO PEOPLE GET ANXIOUS?

There may be a genetic vulnerability.

Economic problems.

Stressors at holiday time: gifts, cooking, parties, deaths of loved ones we remember, job loss, being overweight.

You can deal with these stressors in a proactive, positive way, or negatively.

Good ole Wayne Dyer wrote a book about it in 1993. Highly recommended!

At Holiday Time it's important to be a kid again. "We get to have dinner with everyone!" - "Can't wait to see all the lights and decorations!" - "People will love the gifts I gave them."

Oh-oh! What if you don't feel that way. What if you don't enjoy being with some people in your family.

One audience member "Anna" said she couldn't stand the way her inlaws treat children. They make the kids sit still during the entire meal and not allow them to be children.

So, Anna and her husband only go over there for dessert.

This is called the DIVIDE AND CONQUER STRATEGY, proposed by Wayne Dyer.

Go to different family gatherings for hors d'oeuvres - main meal - dessert. This way everyone feels included. And important.



Chelsea recommends the above book which describes a 6-stage process for handling problems in an assertive way. (I found the below on the web, altho Chelsea went over them.)

Use the mnemonic LADDER:

L –	Look at your rights and what you want, and understand your feelings about the situation
A –	Arrange a meeting with the other person to discuss the situation
D –	Define the problem specifically. Use "I" statements. "I feel pressured when you ask me to bake cookies at the last minute."
D –	Describe your feelings so that the other person fully understands how you feel about the situation
E –	Express what you want clearly and concisely
R –	Reinforce the other person by explaining the mutual benefits of adopting the site of action you are suggesting.

Many demands are made to us during the busy holiday season. We must be assertive in expressing what we wanna do and what we do not wanna do.

DO WHAT YOU LIKE DOING, WHAT YOU'RE GOOD AT!

Practice "self-efficacy" which simply means standing up for yourself. By doing so, you will learn to feel more confident and have people respect your wishes.

Take time out for yourself. Be with friends. If you need to vent, do it with the right people.

We can't choose our families but we can choose our family of friends....the people we choose to hang out with.

If you enjoy baking bread for the holidays, bring that to the dinner.

Every day is a new day. Today is Sunday. If I didn't get something done today, tomorrow is a new day.

Tick....tick...tick.

IF YOU REALLY HATE DOING SOMETHING.....ELIMINATE IT !!!

You don't like writing Xmas or Chanukah cards? Skip it. Why not call people instead and wish them happy holidays voice to voice.

 Whew! Thanks, Chelsea. That solved one of my holiday problems.

Don't like shopping? How about online shopping?

Don't like making the turkey? Buy one already cooked.



And, yes, our Willow Grove Giant offers fully-cooked.

OVEREATING

Tune in to what you're eating. Pay attention. Sit and savor your food. There's a well-known exercise, said Chelsea, of chewing only one raisin. Chew chew chew. Pay attention to its taste, the way it feels in your mouth.

"This is a miniature mindfulness meditation," according to this fab website I just discovered. It was originally taught by Buddhist monk Edward Espe Brown, author of Tassjara Cookbook, which yours truly has.


To avoid weight gain, a study at Duke recommends people walk 30 minutes a day.

Walking time may be spread throughout the day. 

Chelsea has an app on her iPhone called MyFitnessPal. 

OVERSPENDING

Instead of buying gifts, why not give creative gifts?

Baked goods, cookies, cakes, breads. Who wouldn't love these?

Make your own coupons! This coupon is worth one week of my coming over and washing your dishes. Or washing your car.

Create a family recipe book. Or photo album. Or frame a great family photo and give it as a gift.



WORRY AND RUMINATION

I like Chelsea's definition of rumination - Like wet clothes in the dryer going round n round on the no-heat cycle, but nothing ever dries.

Limit worrying to 30 minutes a day. We do need worry-time but don't let it interfere with your daily activities.

Set aside a specific time of day for worry. When you notice yourself straying from that time, say "Wait! I'll think about it during worry-time!"

It works, she said.

MINDFULNESS IS A STANCE FOR LIFE

Step back and observe life w/o judgment.

Are you in line in a store and getting anxious?

Simply observe the whole process. Practice deep breathing, if you wish. Look at whatever floats your boat and simply enjoy your valuable time spent in line. Nothing you can do to make the line go faster.

DEEP BREATHING AS A METHOD OF RELAXATION.

Put one hand on your chest, the other on your abdomen.

As you breathe deeply, do you feel your belly rise? Or your chest rise?

The belly should rise, as this is deep breathing - which is good for you - rathan shallow breathing.



Below is a poem I wrote previously b/c writing poems is something I love to do!

Thich Nhat Hahn - pronounced Tick Not Hahn - is a Vietnamese Buddhist monk. Author of many books, I particularly like "Anger."

DINING WITH THICH NHAT HAHN

When I began eating my omelet

sprinkled with scallions

and melted cheddar,

hot to the tongue

and thought of my Christmas shopping

and the places I’d go

I asked Thich Nhat Hahn to

sit with me in the kitchen

to help me savor my food.

In dark robes

he bowed his head

over black tea I prepared,

delicately lifted the white cup

as he bowed again

meeting my eyes,

eyes that have seen much

some of it wrapped into books

or poetry or praying for peace.

Taste returned to my tongue

the omelet and the goodness of

the hen who had given her life for me

I became one with the morning

The sun shone into my living room

I bowed my head in thanks for its

arrival that morning

Then lifted my glass of water

stared at the clear cold liquid

then drank,

it is cold and it is good to me.

And the master across the table

smiled

pinkie lifted as he drained

the last of his jasmine tea.

Scott and I View the Xmas Lights

The Valenza House on Terwood Road near Greyhorse Road was spectacular!

I'm not getting outa the car, I told Scott, until I drove past and we both got out. Scott was exhausted. This is his sleep catch-up day.

 Dozens upon dozens of families piled from their cars to view the lights. Xmas music blared from spekaers. The Valenzas go all out!

Below is a huge 'southern mansion' on Edgehill Road all dolled up for Xmas. Terrible photo. This year they added a huge inflatable motocycle.

 The hilliest street in the neighborhood is quite possibly Greenhill Drive. I drove past the Garofola home. They had a manger scene in front. I'll email the family to say this is the first anniversary of their loved one - Tony Garofalo's - death.

 When I came home I was hungry so began munching on peanuts. Then I knew I was low (blood sugar) - I was sweating and my vision had big white 'holes' in the middle, so I ate some dried apricots and hi-carb whole-grain pretzels. I was 47.

There's a certain thrill about going low, as long as it doesn't kill ya. It's like being hypomanic but on a very small scale.

In the Xmas spirit I bought these b'ful stamps. I esp. love the top ones which I spose are the wise men on the way to Nazareth, Jesus's birthplace.

Ada bought me a book of postcards. This book is French posters. I promoted use of postcards to a roomful of friends the other day.

Grace wrote on her chalkboard. When Dan came in the room he said, "Who made those lovely designs on the chalkboard?"

She's afraid to go down the basement of their new house b/c of a dehumidifier down there.

I took her down the basement where the D was making noises like a fridge and held her hand as we passed by and she went over to Daddy's desk against the wall.

I'm gonna check my email, she said with a straight face. She got one from Mom-mom and a few others in the family.

The above shot was taken in the Playroom, off the living room, a wonderful room overtaken by every toy imaginable.

When I left, I shot their house from outside.

I bought the Demings a housewarming gift, hung it on a tree outside the front door, and said nuffin.

I hope they'll notice it tomro.

Farewell Dave Brubeck - Silver Linings Playbook / Poem: Beds I have Known

This Time mag cover story introduced Dave Brubeck (1920-2012) to America.

Just listened to an interview with Jill Pasternak of WRTI in which she asked him about his classical music influences.

"When I heard Petrushka," he said, "I jumped for joy."

I jumped for joy when I bought this album with its distinctive cover and listened to it over and over again.

Jill played one of Brubeck's original compositions, the jazzy "To Hope: A Celebration Mass" played in Moscow in 1997. Listen here.

Here's what I learned from Jill's interview and also Terry Gross's.

Brubeck loved classical music - Bach, Beethoven and the like. He was a band leader in WW2, where he met composer Darius Milhaud in Paris.

He asked Milhaud if he could study with him.

Come to Mills College in Oakland, CA, and you can be my student, said Milhaud.

In California, Milhaud asked Brubeck why he wanted to be a classical composer. Well, b/c he loved classical music.

Milhaud persuaded him to stick to jazz, as a unique art form. He also told him he would have permanent work and could support himself and his family. He wouldn't have to teach, as did Milhaud, creator of Music of the Spheres and Creation of the World.

Brubeck took his mentor's advice and had a long and successful career, dying at age 91.

The Dave Brubeck Quartet played several years ago at Temple Beth Shalom in nearby Elkins Park. 

For dave's sake, don't waste time! Enjoy yourself! Take a break! Take five. Go see live performances or even movies, as I did yesterday.

The movie theater experience is so very different from viewing the DVD at home.

Intense! Great sound emanating from all around.

If it's an absorbing movie, as was Silver Linings, your mind will not wander.

I saw the difficult-to-remember-its-name Silver Linings Playbook.



I met two friends there - Marion and Sandy. We went into theater no. 9. They sat together but I chose a higher-up seat, walking carefully up the stadium steps.

Don't fall Ruthie! 

The movie was good but a bit long.

After the film, I wanted to sit down and talk about the movie, but they were in a hurry to leave.

What good's a movie if you don't have anyone to discuss it with.

I called my friend movie buff Judy Diaz in Niwot, CO, who hasn't seen the film yet, but did like Lincoln, Spielberg's newest movie.

In fact, during the 25-minute long previews of Playbook, I went to one of the 22 theaters of the Regal Warrington and stood for 5 minutes watching Lincoln.

It was excellent and I'll definitely see it. Bobby Lee Jones played a political enemy of Lincoln. Lincoln had a strange high-pitched voice, played by the superb Daniel Day-Lewis, who knowledgeable Judy Diaz told me is married to the daughter of Arthur Miller.

Rebecca Miller is also a playwright.

See how much we learn when we blog? (Don't tell anyone but I instantly forget everything.)

Playbook takes place right here in Philadelphia. The Eagles football team plays a big role.

It's based on a true story by Matthew Quick.

BTW, I got a personal email appeal from Jimmy Wales, founder of Wikipedia asking for a donation. What struck me most was his statement that you can donate what you would pay for a cuppa coffee.

I got up and got my credit card info and donated a whopping five dollars!

Now that I know how glorious it is to see movies on the big screen, I'm gonna watch the new film "Jack Reacher" starring an improbable Tom Cruise in the title role.

You know what? It's gonna be a great exciting action film. The author Lee Child loves it.


Rhapsody, guaranteed for 20 years


BEDS I HAVE KNOWN

I am with him now
that blue-eyed husband of my youth
together on the bright-colored sheets
in sweltering Texas
each facing the other way

*
I have consented to sleep
at Iris and Rozzy’s
they don’t use a night-light
and the smells are so different
from home
so un-nice
I watch the black windows
for sunrise.

*
While Aretha sings
I pull out the Murphy Bed in San Francisco
- what a girl won’t do to escape from home -
shadows through the blinds
fall like starlight across the walls
when the telephone rings
a man says: I wanna get in your pants.

*
At the mattress store
I take my time
then decide on the Rhapsody
made in North Carolina
the Tarheel State, the Slave State,
The salesman is a tenor who cannot
find a job
As he sings the role of Ferrando in
Cosi Fan Tutte
I pliee around
the store and throw
roses at his feet.


*
Rhapsody mattress
are you the final resting place
of the woman of many beds?
Nighttime
I lament
the end of my adventures
no more men whose arms
will enfold me
monogamy holds me in its
brutal grasp
a legacy from
the Ten Commandments
how will I get back to California
and the Murphy Bed?
Must I admit
this is my final resting place?     

Coffeeshop Writers Four - Barnes and Noble for Our Library / Poem: Life Takes on New Meaning in the Emergency Room - The First Bird of Morning

Today, December 1, is the day to buy whatever you want at the Willow Grove B&N to support The Upper Moreland Library.

I wanted to get there early, so after breakfast I drove over, there were barely any cars in the lot, and parked, as usual, far away so I could get a walk in and bought $50 worth of merchandise including decaf coffee.




Mostly I wanted to buy Far From the Tree, the latest book by Andrew Solomon, for the ND library. In 962 pages he talks about people who are "different."

“They are deaf or dwarfs; they have Down syndrome, autism, schizophrenia or multiple severe disabilities; they are prodigies; they are people conceived in rape or who commit crimes; they are transgender.” 

 Standing second in line, a good-looking young man asked me, "How long is it gonna take you to read that book?"

"A very long time," I said.

"My mom is reading it," he said, "and I just wanted to know."

On a hunch, I said to him, "I bought it for my support group for people with depression and bipolar disorder."

Yep! He has anxiety and depression. I gave him my card.

Scott went to B&N later in the day.

Mobbed, he said. He spent $100, including a couple of movies, one of which we'll watch tonite.

BUT, he forgot to mention the magic words - "My purchases go towards the Upper Moreland Library."

He'll return tomro with the receipt.

Now it was 11 in the morning. Time to start writing my poem for the Writer's Group.

Currently I have checked outa the library the newest poetry book by Mary Oliver. "A Thousand Mornings." I am on my second reading of the small book.

She is America's best nature poet, going out in the morning in Provincetown, MA, with a notebook and pen.

Once she forgot her pen, so she stuck pencils in all the trees.

You can read some of her poetry here.



As a teenager she lived with Edna St Vincent Millay to learn the art of poetry.

What shall I write about?

LIFE TAKES ON NEW MEANING IN THE EMERGENCY ROOM

I sat in the chair while they strapped a breathing mask on Donna’s face
she gulped huge breaths and said I’m worse, my heart is pounding
keep it on as long as you can, said the nurse, it’s pumping medicine into
your lungs

I remembered fishing at Neshaminy Creek
where the sunnyfish I caught
gasped for breath
eyes watching the water

We’re not gonna force you, said the nurse, but
Finally Donna pulled it off
I know what’s wrong, she said.
I always have to diagnose myself because of the incompetence of doctors.

Stainless steel rods were stitched in her spine when she was fourteen
Scoliosis
A novel procedure by Dr. Herndon that works until you’re on Social Security
then twists your body into a pretzel, so you call out to God to stop the pain
that twists your groin like red-hot knitting needles

pain does not kill
lack of oxygen will

She nearly passes out when they take X-rays
This is where Simon was diagnosed with lung cancer, I say
and while waiting for her,
pray with young Lance Johnson who thinks
he’s having another heart attack
“I felt my heart pop open when my girlfriend broke up with me”
Our hand-holding is interrupted by the doctor Donna doesn’t like
the one who asked her, “So you smoke?”

He’s skinny, all in green, with a label that announces an Italian name
We call him “fucking asshole”
but are brightened when he comes in and says
The X-rays came out fine.

Donna and I hug when shortly before midnight
we say goodbye in the parking lot
I trot back to my car
the night is cold and I watch my breath
ascend to the stars
I wonder
Is God watching?

*

But Mary Oliver was pulling at me. I wanted to write a nature poem. Here's how it came out.

THE FIRST BIRD OF MORNING

Sleep is never easy
I look around my room
Burgundy drapes with Chinese patterns
mom made for me
Two-door closet I painted with swirls
of Benjamin Moore when we first moved in
a Sony radio, marked with White-Out, so I
can see where to change the stations

A baby who needs music all night long?
Like the heartbeat of mother when I was
inside her?
What will happen when she dies of old age?

I fall asleep when the mysterious forces
gather me up and take me away
There to merge with other sleepers
on Cowbell Road and through this
vast neighborhood of tall and
broken trees
out across America

Settled in, under my feather comforter
and father’s tiger blanket,
I picture myself from on high
from God’s very throne
his sleeping child
sixty-seven this month
awakened by the
first bird of morning
Chirrup! Chirrup!      

*

Linda wrote a poem about a "Lost Soul," someone the two of us met at a Coffee Shop gathering.

Donna wrote "Good News," a prayer-poem about the new job she will start on Monday.

Carly wrote "Cardiac Rehab on Maryland Road" which she will give as a thank-you gift to the women who helped her with the strenuous exercises she learned after her heart operation earlier this year.



Doesn't this make you wanna go to bed and put the blankets over your head?

Carly told the group she had a life-altering experience. She began to meditate with Deepak Chopra. We followed her lead, closed our eyes, and meditated on two Sanskrit words that mean I AM.

Here's the 21-day challenge.

You can also find him on YouTube.

I prefer listening to this on YouTube.