'Tis the season of giving (and receiving)

• By TAMMY MALGESINI 

• Community Editor
 

• Dec 18, 2018

Bill Belichick is the National Football League’s version of the Grinch. The head coach of the New England Patriots recently said Christmas is very inconvenient — coming in the middle of the football season.

Whatever. I enjoy the Christmas season — the festive music, holiday parties, tasty treats and the approaching NFL postseason.

But mostly, I like to give. I love finding the perfect gift for those that are special in my life. I enjoy seeing people open a gift I chose especially for them or hearing them share about what it means to them.

One thing I purchased/created for my mom this year was a special Christmas ornament. Since John and I only have canine kids, my mommy is gram-mama to Lucifer and the General.

I found an ornament that had a picture frame opening and underneath is written, “Grandkids.” I decided to alter it to say, “Granddogs.”

I decided it would be best to sand down the raised letters before writing “dogs.” How appropriate that I ended up using our doggie pedicure nail grinder — it worked perfectly. I can only imagine the look on gram-mama’s face when she opened it.

In addition to giving, I also like to receive. When the package came from my parents last week, I rifled through the box. My mom had hinted about sending money as one of our gifts.

I look at monetary presents as an opportunity to purchase something that I may not otherwise buy. Since I still had some shopping to do on Amazon, I wanted to know how much I might have in case something caught my eye.

I found two identical gifts in the box. I told John I suspected they contained checks for each of us and suggested that we open them. He was more than happy to take a peek.

My parents enjoy knowing what we buy with our present money. The first year, we pooled our money and bought a flat screen TV. Last year, we spent half of it on heavy-duty dog harnesses (and I also purchased some titanium earrings and John got some vinyl records).

While I have yet to spend this year’s gift money, John ordered a really nice Hamilton Beach electric countertop stand mixer. I don’t think my folks will be too upset that he already spent the money. He promptly used it to make several dozen cookies, which were shipped off to them the next morning.

Despite Grinch Belichick’s sentiments about the holiday season, I’m looking forward to the regular season wrapping up. While my friends that are Seahawks fans are still on the edge of their seats, my Rams and Saints have already punched their tickets to the postseason.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Scary movies, popcorn and Halloween, oh my

• Tammy Malgesini
 

 Hermiston Herald, Community Editor

• Oct 23, 2018

• With Halloween just around the corner, what better way to celebrate the holiday than having a fright-fest.
  Whether forking over a fistful of cash at the theater, hitting up the local Redbox or checking out Netflix, ’tis the season for scary movies.
  After dragging my husband to several sub-par shows, he now refuses to step foot into a theater for flicks that don’t score well on Rotten Tomatoes. However, I think it’s going to take additional convincing to get John to take me to the cinema to see “Halloween.”
  It’s been so long since I’ve been in a theater that I’m not even sure where my “movie purse” is — you know, a purse big enough to smuggle a Hydro Flask with ice, a can of Pepsi and a couple of bottles of water.
  My mom taught me that trick. She actually had one big enough for two Big Gulps, along with various candy and snacks.
  But I digress — initially pitching my case to see “Halloween,” I told John the latest confrontation between Michael Myers and Laurie Strode received 80 percent on the Tomatometer. However, with the World Series vying for his attention at least through Saturday, I may have missed my chance.
  Although technically comedies, the “Scary Movie” series is a must see. Featuring satirical parodies of classic horror films, the original came out in 2000. I couldn’t wait to see the second.
  John and I were vacationing in a small village in New Hampshire and headed to the North Conway Theatre. I don’t know if it was standard procedure, but there weren’t trailers before the show. Instead, a theater employee stood up front and talked about the upcoming releases. That, and the free popcorn coupons made for quite the entertaining experience.
  More than a decade ago I was into the “Saw” series. I saw “Saw,” I saw “Saw II” and so on. They churned ‘em out yearly from 2004-10, and then last year, “Jigsaw.” As far as I’m concerned they hacked that series to death.
  Some of my favorite horror flicks from decades ago remain steady on the Tomatometer, including “Psycho” (1960) in third place of the top 100 with 97 percent, “The Exorcist” (1973) ranks 60th with 86 percent, and “The Omen” (1976) comes in at 79 with 86 percent.
  A classic, “Psycho” relies on people’s minds to create the creepiness. It was so fantastic that a 91-minute documentary, “78/52,” premiered at the 2017 Sundance Film Festival. The title refers to the number of camera set-ups and edits that resulted in the frightfully familiar 3-minute shower scene.
  Linda Blair’s head-spinning and projectile vomiting in “The Exorcist” is embedded in my brain, as is my mom’s response when she found out I saw it. She tracked down Stan McSwain — aka the “Popcorn King,” owner of the Egyptian Theatre — telling him she was none too happy that I got into the R-rated film at age 14.
  For awhile, the theater cracked down on underage movie-goers. However, a couple of years later, my friend and I went to “The Omen.” So, how freaky is it that barely 15 minutes into the flick the screen went black?! After getting “rain checks,” we finally experienced the little spawn of Satan’s reign of terror.
  I guess if I can’t convince my husband to go see “Halloween,” I might have to catch “Get Out.” The 2017 release is ranked No. 1 and looks pretty fresh with 99 percent on the mater-meter.
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  Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Pirate pride — 40 years in the making

• Tammy Malgesini
 

• Hermiston Herald, Community Editor

• Sep 25, 2018

I recently returned after embarking on a round-trip encompassing more than 800 miles and 40 years.

Even after getting Round-Up week off, I almost didn’t go to my 40-year high school reunion. I woke up the morning of Sept. 12 with a hitch in my giddy-up.

With my back aching, I just couldn’t see climbing behind the wheel of my Jeep and driving more than seven hours to visit with people I hadn’t seen since my 20-year reunion. However, the tides of Coos Bay were pulling me to my high school home. After soaking in a hot bath, I leisurely packed throughout the day.

The next morning, I zipped up my suitcases and rolled them down the stairs. While preparing for trips in recent years, the bags flying down in a heap has become a sort of tradition. It gets them closer to the door with less effort.

The commotion always gains the attention of the General, my 6-year-old German shepherd. From that point on, he’s my shadow — longing to know if he’s going to be riding shotgun.

One of the benefits of going to Coos Bay was getting to visit with my folks. My mom dotes on me and my pops refuses to let me pay for anything. Also, my mom loves playing gram-mama to the General, feeding him all kinds of treats — and he eats it up.

My husband — AKA Johnny Crocker — continues to endear himself with my parents. Even though he didn’t come on the trip, John sent several of his culinary creations. Dozens of cookies and two pies sufficiently covered morning, afternoon and midnight snacks.

I proudly donned the purple and gold colors of Marshfield High School before heading to the Friday night mixer. I recognized a number of faces, including Kathy, my graduation walking partner; Sally, who doesn’t remember imbibing during “Dimer Nights” when I visited her at Oregon State University; and Marcia, who recently came out as a transgender woman.

A couple of standouts — literally, they were like the Twin Towers — were Dean, a Harvard-trained retired Air Force colonel, looking quite stately; and Les, who, well, was just hot. I got a kink in my neck when talking to them, but it was worth every twinge of pain.

While catching up with fellow Pirates, I made observations to incorporate into my stand-up comedy routine for Saturday night’s gathering. It fueled a “Remember When” set, including taking note of Randy’s diminished hairline, Roger’s former profession in the mortuary business, Ernie’s booming radio voice and Marcia being a shoo-in for “most changed.”

The continuing camaraderie of the class of 1978 was amazing. After my stand-up set, Pam and Julie asked for a moment of silence for Jo, who couldn’t attend because her son was in a horrible wreck a few days before. Brian called the gesture “beautiful.” And, it was.

BJ, who served on the reunion committee, summed it up, “This reunion was everything I wanted it to be. Everyone embracing each other with love, hugs and friendship. No, cliques or drama. Just a lot of respect.”

#onceapiratealwaysapirate

Tammy Malgesini, back center, is pictured with several classmates from Marshfield High School during their 40-year reunion, held Sept. 14-16 in Coos Bay

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

High school memories ‘stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive’

• Tammy Malgesini
 

• Hermiston Herald, Community Editor

• Aug 28, 2018

I finally decided to attend my 40-year high school reunion.

I’ve been hesitant because it’s a long drive to Coos Bay and gas is a far cry from the 63 cents a gallon it was in 1978. Also, it’s nearly impossible to take time off in the newsroom during Round-Up week.

A couple of years ago, I inquired about time off around my wedding anniversary, which also falls during Round-Up week. I think editor Daniel Wattenburger thought I was kidding. In retrospect, a September wedding wasn’t the best idea — John was studying to be a teacher and would always be back in school when our anniversary rolled around — and who knew “Let’er Buck” would compete with “I do” in the years to come?

But I digress — the class reunion committee used much forethought in planning for our stroll down memory lane. Last August, organizers urged fellow Pirates to “save the date” for the weekend of Sept. 14-16, 2018. Evidently, not everyone in the Marshfield High School class of 1978 are procrastinators.

When I finally embraced my inner Pirate and decided I would attend, I went all-in. I offered to do a stand-up comedy routine before the band plays. In preparation, I’ve been immersing myself with all things from the late-1970s.

From foods to fashion — I’ve been recalling the nightmares that were bell bottoms, hip huggers and platform shoes. And, who would name a line of formal/semi-formal wear Gunne Sax? Heavy-duty burlap bags don’t sound very fancy. Although, I admit to wearing a Gunne Sax wedding dress.

The Saturday night gathering is at a sports bar — so I’m sure the drinks will be flowing. I wonder if they’ll serve Boone’s Farm, Annie Green Springs or T.J. Swann — remember Easy Nights, Mellow Days and Stepping Out? According to a quick Google search, they were popular back in the day due to their “inexpensive price and great taste.” Seriously — bottom shelf wines with the lovely screw top — no thanks!

Recently, my husband has been spinning some old records — songs I listened to in my high school days. While disco was popular with the release of “Saturday Night Fever,” I preferred the likes of Billy Joel’s “Only the Good Die Young,” Bob Seger’s “Night Moves,” Queen’s “We are the Champions” and “Hotel California” by the Eagles.

Speaking of hotel, the event is being held the same weekend as the Bay Area Fun Festival and the 39th annual Steve Prefontaine Run. Rooms are booking up fast, but my mom and pops still reside in Coos Bay — in the very house that I lived in my last few years of high school. Luckily, my old bedroom no longer features dreadful wallpaper. It was quite obnoxious with yellow, orange and pink smiley faces everywhere.

I enjoyed my high school days, but wouldn’t want to go back to things like minimum wage at $2.30 an hour, a basic Montgomery Wards microwave oven for just under $500 and disco topping the music charts. As for the memories, thanks to the Bee Gees, they are “stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive, ah, ha, ha, ha.”

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Turning the tassel on old-school ideas

• Tammy Malgesini

• Community Editor

• June 12, 2018

• Evidently I’m old-school.
  I like to think I’m progressive and hip — geeze, even the very use of the word “hip” indicates I come from a bygone era — but I am amazed at some of the attire people wear when attending graduation ceremonies. Ceremony is a big hint. The word’s very definition indicates it’s a formal occasion.
  Granted, it’s been 40 years since I turned the tassel, but when I graduated, people in attendance treated it as a formal affair and wore their “Sunday best.” I recently covered Pendleton’s graduation and couldn’t believe some of the clothing. Sure, it was held in the Round-Up Grounds, but I guarantee you cowboys getting bucked off horses in September will be better dressed than many who attended the June 2 ceremony.
  Don’t get me wrong, I like to be casual and comfortable as the next person — dressing up in Eastern Oregon is more likely to mean starched jeans and a sport coat rather than evening gowns and tuxedos.
  I wore capris, a collared shirt and a sun hat (NOT a baseball hat). I was definitely dressed nicer than a 20-something gal who was wearing what could best be described as an adult onesie.
  Before you jump on the bandwagon dissing Pendleton’s lack of reverence to formality, Hermiston’s recent ceremony at the Toyota Center had its unceremonious moments as well.
  Last summer during discussions about possible venues (and back-up sites) for the class of 2018 ceremony, Hermiston School District officials reiterated the importance of maintaining a tradition of treating graduation as a very formal and serious event. Chicago transplant Mark Gomolski, who joined the board after a write-in campaign last spring, had questioned whether they really needed to paint the gymnasium each year for the ceremony.
  Further establishing the formal nature of the event, district officials even outlined appropriate attire for those donning a cap and gown. Clothing underneath, a letter said, could not include shorts or flip-flops. It also indicated that balloons, noise makers, silly string and confetti weren’t allowed during the ceremony.
  However, the concession stands at the Toyota Center offered popcorn, nachos and other food and drinks. Seriously, what formal events feature the consumption of junk food? Do you think people snacked on meat pies during the recent royal wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle at St. George’s Chapel?
  While the consumption of food and drinks is available prior to formal performances and during intermission at New York’s Metropolitan Opera House, it isn’t allowed in the main venue. And, less formal than the MET, A.C.T. A Contemporary Theatre in Seattle allows drinks in its theaters, provided they are in plastic cups with no ice. Food is a no-no.
  It seems to me that those attending a gradation ceremony could forgo eating snack foods that are reminiscent of watching a sporting event. The next thing you know they’ll add a countdown and shot clock indicating how many graduates are still waiting to receive their diploma — or god forbid, having the audience engage in “The Wave” as a send-off to seniors.
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  Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.

Traffic ... driving me crazy

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on April 17, 2018 6:43PM

I don’t exhibit road rage — my response to driving frustrations is more like traffic-induced Tourette Syndrome.

I wasn’t really aware of this until a recent trip to the coast with Carol and Cassie Greene. Cassie, who was behind the wheel during the sketchy part of the trip through the Portland metro area, didn’t seem to appreciate my backseat driving.

It was more like backseat blurting out. It’s not like I spewed obscenities — just short phrases that aren’t fit for print. I certainly should have budgeted more for the swear jar in the car.

In my defense, cars were darting in and out of traffic, passing on the right, merging inappropriately, not maintaining a safe following distance and generally not following the laws as outlined in the Oregon Driver Manual.

I’m not saying I’m the best driver in the world. However, I don’t weave in and out of traffic, I always use my turn signal when merging, I utilize the 3-second rule to provide appropriate distance and I make sure I can see pavement between my rig and the car in front of me when stopped.

More about turn signals — when used properly, they offer a clue to other drivers regarding where you intend to go. Use them! Really, it doesn’t take that much effort. Oh, and after they have served their purpose — turn it off.

While I’m not as crazy as my bestie Carol “Andretti” Greene, I do admit to some questionable driving habits. With traffic re-routed due to Hermiston’s festival street construction project, I experienced a bit of Olympics fever. Driving to and from work each day, I felt like a skier on a slalom course. Whipping around the cones, I would get as close to them as possible. And, I’m proud to say I never ran over a single one.

Also, pedestrians have laws, too. If I wrote an Oregon Pedestrian Manual, rules would address appropriate attire for nighttime strolls and the use of crosswalks, including a clear definition of what constitutes an unmarked crosswalk. They are NOT merely anywhere you decide to cross the street.

I totally respect that pedestrians have the right of way — just don’t make me plunk quarters in the swear jar on my way home from work.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539

Flying high with Olympic fever

Community editor Tammy Malgesini muses on the oddities of this year’s Olympics.

By Tammy Malgesini

Staff Writer

Published on February 20, 2018 5:54PM

I’m a Winter Olympics junkie, but several things connected with things happening in PyeongChang have me scratching my head.

Reminiscent of “the artist formerly known as Prince,” the Russian competitors are being referred to as Olympic Athletes from Russia. This is the International Olympic Committee’s way of allowing Russian athletes a chance to compete despite the misdeeds of their fellow countrymen and widespread cheating through a government doping program.

They can’t be referred to as the Russian team, they aren’t allowed to wear their country’s colors, they can’t carry the Russian flag or play the national anthem and medals won won’t go toward the Russian medal count total in history books. But, evidently they can still use banned substances.

Even with the vetting process, an Olympic curler from Russia tested positive in a preliminary test for a banned substance over the weekend. Seriously, though, curling?

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy watching grown men and women slide around on ice while using a Swiffer to clear the way. But I question why a curling athlete would even need a performance-enhancing drug.

Over the weekend, I was impressed with a seemingly profound statement by Cammi Granato regarding the United States women’s hockey team. A former Olympian — she’s a 1998 gold medal and 2002 silver medal winner in hockey — she’s qualified to give an insider’s view. I said seemingly, however, because when a Folgers commercial came on, I realized she pretty much stole the statement from the coffee company.

However, that’s not the biggest theft that has occurred during the 2018 Olympics — that honor (or dishonor) goes to Elizabeth Swaney, a U.S. citizen who represented Hungary in the women’s freeski halfpipe.

It seems she manipulated her way into the Olympics by grabbing onto her grandparent’s Hungarian heritage and then traveling around the world to compete in low-attended competitions. She “earned” an Olympic berth by placing in the top 30 of the required number of competitions, which wasn’t hard since some contests didn’t even draw 15 athletes.

She did all this without so much as performing what competitors consider tricks. The key was to stay upright and finish.

I’m not even bragging when I say I could do better than her. However, I know I don’t possess the skills of an Olympic athlete — that’s why I’m at home watching from my daybed rather than strapping skis on and pretending to be an elite athlete.

My favorite part of the Olympics is short track speed skating. And its relay event — they call it organized chaos — is the bomb. My co-workers seem to think that statement resembles the condition of my desk area.

The thing with short track is I have to wait four years to see it. Unlike many other Olympic events, short track competitions held throughout the year aren’t televised.

When my head felt like it would explode last Tuesday, I decided to stay home. When I discovered that short track was being televised, it made the decision that much easier. I feel a relapse coming on this Thursday.

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Tammy Malgesini is the community editor. Her column, Inside my Shoes, includes general musings about life. Contact her at tmalgesini@eastoregonian.com or 541-564-4539.