"You know what's not one of a kind? Twins!"

Bonus points if you know where that quote comes from! 

I have the best sisters in the world. My twin sister in particular is the most generous and kind hearted person I know. And I...well I have caused her trouble since before we were even born. 

"She was just found first"

So I am a very important 2 minutes older than Susan. But according to Susan, I was just found first because I was bigger. See, my mom had to go to the hospital as they realized I was stealing Susan's food and nutrients she needed. She was losing too much weight and I was the issue. So they did a C-section and I was found first. I was born at a little over 4 pounds and Susan was born just barely around 2 pounds. She was put into the NICU and after a couple of days I was sent home healthy and happy...while my sister fought and eventually regained her strength and weight. 

We were always told to look after each other. Susan has always been there to look after me...sometimes I would get a little distracted. 

No child left behind...

When we were little and in elementary school, we rode the bus to and from school. One day, after a full day of school, I got off the bus, walked all the way home and grabbed a snack. It was then...that my mom asked where my sister was. She had fallen asleep on the bus and I walked home without her. She took a nice little ride to the bus depot where my mom was waiting to pick her up. Ummm...whoops! Sorry Sue! 

Pants with little Scottish terriers on them

When we were in either first or second grade, my mom was away picking Susan up from ballet practice and my older sister was babysitting me. I told her that I had to go to the bathroom and along the way...I picked up some scissors. 

I was wearing one of my favorite pants which were cotton pants with little Scottish terriers on them with little red bows. Since I have always been taller, Susan would often get my hand me downs, and well...she loved those pants. 

It was the late 80s and one of the biggest fashion trends of the time was to have ripped knees in your jeans.  It didn't occur to me that it wouldn't quite look the same on those sweet dog pants. 

So I cut a couple of holes in those pants, decapitating dogs left and right. 

But I didn't stop there...I looked in the mirror and just started cutting. As my hair fell into the ceramic sink, I kept going and going and going. I thought I looked pretty good! I did it exactly how I watched my hairdressers always do it. 

My mom came home with Susan, took one look at me and what was at first sheer terror turned into anger which turned into laughter. My poor sister on the other hand took one look at those pants and started to cry. She still hasn't fully forgiven me for cutting those beloved pants.

I may have a gift for cutting hair though, as my mother looked at it and said "you actually did a pretty good job." 

I think I owe both my sisters an apology on that one! 

We will jump on 1, 2, 3...

My family lived in London in 1990, when Susan and I were in 3rd grade. We had gone on a trip to Belgium that year for Easter with our parents and my mom's friend Maureen. Our older sister had to stay behind for school. We were constantly on the hunt for the Mannekin Pis. (Shown below) 

Legend has it that: "tells of a wealthy merchant who, during a visit to the city with his family, had his beloved young son go missing. The merchant hastily formed a search party that scoured all corners of the city until the boy was found happily urinating in a small garden. The merchant, as a gift of gratitude to the locals who helped out during the search, had the fountain built." Wikipedia (best source of accuracy!) if you are interested there are many hilarious legends behind the Mannekin Pis. http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manneken_Pis 

Our friend Maureen, repeatedly had us sing "you don't want to miss, the Mannekin Pis!" I was so enamored by the story and thought it was hilarious in my 9 year old mind, that I even bought myself a little statue trinket and couldn't wait to meet this young boy. 

So we were staying in a hotel and one morning while the grownups ate breakfast, Susan and I asked if we could go play outside. One of the biggest benefits of being a twin is you always have someone to play with.

Well it was Easter time and there was a large pool that was empty as it was too cold out still. I stared at the pool and instantly an idea popped into my head. We should definitely jump in. Susan, being slightly afraid of heights, being much smarter and significantly more practical even as a little girl was completely opposed to the idea. I used my charm and got her to finally agree to jump in with me. We decided to jump in on the slope of the empty pool as I felt that would make it easier to land. So smart right?!? We would count to 3 and then jump. 

1....2....3...

Nothing. The first time we both chickened out. 

But the second time, I assured my sister without a doubt I would jump. 

Once again, 1....2....3....jump! 

Susan jumped. One minute she was next to me, the next she was sprawled out on the bottom of the pool holding her ankle. And I...had totally chickened out.

She had sprained it by jumping into the pool. I ran down to help her walk out and carry her to safety.

I agree...not the smartest thing we ever did! I mean...I kind of blame Susan for this happening. She was always the one to keep me grounded....but on that day...well that day she decided to fly. 

I really wasn't tricking her...I promise! I just got scared and couldn't jump. She had sprained her ankle but thankfully she was ok and not more seriously hurt. Poor poor Susan. 

Moral of the story:

1. I'm kind of a jerk. 

2. You should always think twice when Patty says, "ooh I have a great idea!" 

3. Sisters are the best! 

4. And finally go see the Mannekin Pis! Its really just a statue of a little boy peeing...but you don't want to miss...the Mannekin Pis! 

Don't worry...the cats will eat it!

This is a story of a time that proved to me just how much my mom loved me. 

A not so interesting fact about me is that I have an incredibly weak stomach. There was a time in my life where I threw up, literally every time I took out the trash. Smells, weird foods...all contribute to my weak stomach and propensity for umm...getting sick.

One day, when I was in middle school, my family was traveling through Spain and we were visiting a beautiful ancient castle. We were walking around the grounds and there was a courtyard in the center of this castle. All of a studen, I started to feel naseous. I was on my way to tell my mother when it came spewing up...I rushed over to the corner and proceeded to throw up...in an antique vase/urn. As soon as I was done, I instantly felt much better. 

My mother being the incredible woman that she was and a nurse so not very squeamish, didn't have any tissues and allowed me to blow my nose in her shirt. It was at that moment that I knew my mother loved me. I had never questioned it...but come on...that's pretty gross! My mother sacrificed her shirt so that I could blow my nose. Forget Romeo and Juliet or Frozen...that's love. 

As for the vase/urn...well...my mother told me, "don't worry about it, the cats will eat it." 

It's gonna BLOW!!

This post is dedicated to the one and only Ashley who is pretty much the only person in my life who finds me really funny! We spent countless hours in my office talking, laughing and dancing and this one is of her favorite stories of mine...the car...not what happened before. 

It all started as I was speaking as the student speaker at Corps Graduation for City Year. My mom was too sick to fly down so my father came to hear me speak and my older sister stayed with my mother. Following graduation and tears from my father as his shy baby girl had grown into a confident young woman. We headed off with the corps to a local bar to celebrate. My older sister called to tell us our mother had stopped breathing and was now in the hospital. We rushed my dad to the airport to fly home while my twin sister and I packed up our home in South Carolina. We packed all night and left early the next morning to move back up north to be with our mother who was breathing on her own again though still in the hospital. 

We packed up both our cars completely to where there was absolutely no space and gave the rest of our furniture to a man downstairs who was very drunk at a party. I was the lead car and we were driving from Columbia, SC to Boston. 

Shortly after we entered Maryland, I heard a very loud pop and my engine started to stall. So I pulled over to the side of the road with Susan parking her car right behind mine. I pop the hood and as I lift the hood of my car...all I see is flames. 

I drop the hood so hard it slams shut and take off running as fast as I can. 

Susan, standing in shock screams, "Patty...what the hell are you doing?" 

As I run away...leaving my poor sister in the dust...I yell "It's GONNA BLOW!!!! Run!!! RUN!!!!" 

Susan stands there stuttering and wondering whether she should move her car since it's right behind mine and I keep yelling "there isn't any time!! RUN!!" 

We get a safe distance away and call 911 and they respond within minutes. A fire truck with firemen completely decked out in their gear come running and we open the hood to...

Nothing. There was nothing there. Apparently when I threw the hood down, the fire went out immediately. 

The firemen sighed and shook their head at the crazy young woman in front of them who so clearly wasted their time. They called a tow truck for us and just as quickly as they arrived, they took off. 

So we found a rental car place, got a new car, re-packed and moved our entire life at the time and continued on our way to go see our mama. Just a note...I may be a touch on the dramatic side. 

Rest in Peace dear Saturn. You were a very good car. 

I once crashed in a hot air balloon

I absolutely love to play the game, Two Truths and a Lie. I'll let you in on a little secret to the game. Take your craziest experiences/facts about yourself and tell those while altering one fact to be just slightly off from the truth. I often share 

1. I have broken my left arm 4 times and no other part of my body. 

2. I have once crashed in a hot air balloon

3. I have a twin brother 

Now if you know me, you know that #3 is false. I have a twin sister Susan, not a twin brother. See? It's easy! 

Another fairly well known fact about me is my very bad luck with transportation devices. I have crashed on a horse, a moped, ski lift, dune buggy etc. I have been stranded at airports overnight over 8 times, I have had my luggage lost over 10 times. It's rare that I fly without some sort of delay. I have been involved in 4 car accidents, multiple times fallen off bikes or skateboards and roller skates. Etc. BUT I did go skydiving without incident with my buddy Paul! A fact I am proud of...but that is a story for another day. Today I would like to share about the time I crashed in a hot air balloon. 

At the time, my dear friend Rich was a balloon chaser. A profession I never knew about but says ridiculously fun! He would follow hot air balloons until they came down and would pick up the passengers after they finished their flight. 

Well Rich had been offered 4 free passes to ride on a hot air balloon and invited my friend Jenni and I as well as two of his fraternity brothers. We were required to wake up early in the morning around 4am to get to the launch site early. My college boyfriend at the time had spent the night and I was so very comfortable that I didn't get up. He convinced me to be a little late so we could have a little fun and I was easily convinced. I ran to my car and to get Jenni but we ended up being close to 45 mins late. Rich was really upset with us as it became more dangerous to be up in a hot air balloon, the later in the day it gets. But he was Rich and so very kind so he let it go and we set off for our adventure. There was a group of four people who would go first and then the pilot felt it was safe enough for us to still go a little bit later. 

When it was our turn we climbed into the basket and started our ascent. It was an incredible rush. I was fully aware that it was just a basket that held us up. The propane was uncomfortably hot but also created quite an adrenaline rush. We saw beautiful country landscape and watched the deer run across fields as we saw hunters in their stands ready for a shot. I was tempted to yell loudly to the deer.."Run! Run for your lives!" 

After we had been up in the air for quite some time, our pilot radios down to the van that we were running very low on propane and that we were in a no land zone. He said, "if we don't land soon, we will run out of fuel."  Apparently, there was an apple farmer in the area that restricted us from landing on their property. Now I know this is probably a common conversation pilots have but our peaceful day in the skies got a lot more scary hearing that. We frantically looked for a place to land but saw power lines wherever we looked. The van radioed back that there was a housing development nearby so we headed that direction. 

My neck was burning from the propane feeling like a bad sunburn and we were anxious to find a place to land. 

These next moments will stick with me for the rest of my life. 

As we entered the housing development, we see a man standing peacefully on his porch with his son in his arms casually waving to us. His look of pure happiness turned to sheer terror as he realized we were headed straight for his house! 

He ran inside the house and the next thing I know, instead of hitting the house we barely missed, we careened to the side and landed in a large tree. Our basket fell forward and I was on the basket side that was perfectly horizontal to the ground with several people who had fallen on top of me. 

We quickly righted ourselves and headed towards the ground. We hit the ground hard and bounced back up as we went back towards the heavens. I didn't think much of it until our pilot yells down. "You have to get us down! The balloon is completely ripped and won't keep us in the air!" 

I freak out for only seconds until I see several members of this housing development running towards us in their robes and pajamas...ready to save the day! They all start pulling on ropes and when we are about 5 feet up, our pilot directs us to jump. Now 5 feet doesn't sound like much but my twin sister is 5 feet tall. (She claims 5'1) so I jumped, skimmed my knee a little but one by one my little crew made it down and the basket finally came down as well. We celebrated with champagne and thanked the friendly neighbors and received our certificates of completion. 

All in all it was an incredible morning and one heck of a great story! 

The worst part of the day was that our poor pilot was set to retire that day and this was to be one of his last flights. He had flown these balloons for over 30 years and had never had an accident. 

Important life lessons/take aways: 

1. No matter how great it may be, morning sex could have catastrophic consequences if you have somewhere to be at that time. Thankfully no one was hurt...aside from the balloon! 

2. Never judge a housing development by its outside appearance...it's what's inside that counts...those people helped save our lives! 

3. Chase balloons, chase deer, chase people...but always live life to the fullest! 

A Bloody Man in a Bolivian Police Station

Did you know that if you lose or have your American passport stolen more than 3 times, they will not issue you a replacement passport? Ah my friends and strangers...sadly it is true. How do I know this? Well  my passport has been stolen twice and if I were to lose or have another passport stolen, I will not receive another passport again. This means that I have in a state of panic when my passport ever sees the light of day. So far...so good. 

 One of my favorite and most ridiculous memories comes during my trip to Bolivia. I was in grad school and asked my boss if I could participate in his study abroad program to Bolivia just after I graduated. I went as the oldest participant as the rest were undergrads, with my boss and his wife who had been my internship supervisor. I didn't speak a word of Spanish but it was one of the best experiences I've had. You can read through monkeytalestravels.blogspot.com for more Bolivian adventures!

So...my passport. In the Summer of 2008, my fellow Boliviano Trip colleagues and I made the trek to Cochabamba, Bolivia where we would spend the next 2 1/2 weeks. It took us 3 flights and over 30 hours of travel to get to our destination. When we got there we were told to just put our stuff down and we were off for a day of adventures. After some excitement that day we headed to a Brazilian cafe to finish off our night.

I put my bag between my legs and enjoyed a nice conversation with my colleagues. I was sharing about my tattoos and started talking about my mama and when I went to grab my locket to show them her photo...I realized my bag had been stolen. I could share all of the could'ves, should'ves and would'ves but that won't turn back time. We think it happened when a woman came up to us to sell us something and wouldn't take "No gracias" for an answer...i just got too comfortable. It was stupid, but I was tired and wasn't thinking clearly.

Inside my bag was...my passport, my airline tickets, $, my debit card and checkbook, my phone, car and house keys and my locket from my father as a graduation gift with a photo of my parents in it. Despite our looking, especially by my boss Jim but it was clear it was gone for good. 

So that evening, Kimber, our amazing translator, Jim and I went to the police station to file a police report that we needed to get a new passport. The taxi driver dropped us off with pleas to stick together fearing for our lives. He told us that we would need to walk down the street to get a taxi when we were done as none would pick us up where we were. We learned later it was a very dangerous part of town.

We walked into a very sketchy building that just had a counter and a man behind it smoking and reading the paper. He wouldn't speak to us but rather pointed us around another building showing us to walk through the very dark and scary alleyway. Kimber went first, then I did, then Jim did. All the while...really nervous. Bolivia...has an unusual amount of stray dogs who were barking and staring at us at this point. It definitely felt like the setting for a nice Stephen King novel. 

We walked into a plain room with just a small table, two plastic lawn chairs, a bench and a tv which was currently playing a dark and scary horror movie. We sat and waited for the officer to be ready for us as he finished his cigarette and in walked this guy...who was covered in blood from head to toe. All over his face, shirt and pants and his pants were torn as well. I had to laugh when he walked in and sat directly next to Kimber. He was incredibly calm and just sat there patiently waiting his turn as if he wasn't completely and utterly covered in blood. Add in a little light flicker and it would be a scene out of the movie Hostel! 

When it was our turn to share my story with the plain clothed officer, Kimber translated. Dude just wrote directly into a journal...no computer...just a spiral notebok. It felt very weird and not what I was expecting. The officer never turned off the tv where we had just seen someone's skull bashed in but rather...just turned it down! It was absolutely insane and truly kind of hysterical. When he finished taking my statement, he went into another room and we waited calmly with Bloody Man at our side. I saw the officer writing in another notebook and didn't think much of it until 20 minutes later when he came back with another sheet of lined paper that contained my written statement that we both had to sign. 

After a while we were set to go with instructions to come back the next morning. He told us to go outside in front of the building and wait for a cab. We stood out there a little bit petrified and a little bit goofy. We waited for at least 45 minutes to get a taxi and it was totally sketchy. No one would pick us up! We finally got back to the hotel around 2 or 3am grateful we had made it through our little adventure safely! 

Over the next couple of days thanks to my boss and his kindness...we were able to get new airline tickets and Jim took me to the US Embassy to get my temporary passport. While I was there the not so kind woman behind the desk with a severe face and frown, asked condescendingly if I had even tried to find my bag. "Did you put an ad in the paper? Did you put up signs in the neighborhood?" "Ummm....No ma'am...I didn't think that would be helpful, but here is my statement I got from the police station." I said smiling. She didn't think I was charming. I got a very stern lecture about selling passports on the black market. See, my passport had been stolen once before in Italy, so my credibility was a little shot. She made me sign a document understanding that if I should lose or have my passport stolen again, I would never be issued another passport again. The rest of the trip was absolutely incredible mixed with a severe case of food poisoning for my housemates and myself, the cutest kids I've ever met, hilarious times at our host family's house and riding in the back of the truck, a visit to a monkey park, cake smashed in my face, so much laughter, kindness and a truly life changing experience. My passport was not the only thing I left behind in Bolivia...I also left my heart with the children, families and community in Bolivia. 

The Inspiration

Writing this blog has been a long time goal of mine. Many life experiences in the past several years have prompted me to go back through my life journey and share some of the good, the bad and the truly ridiculous. What follows is a little of the inspiration behind this blog.

Mama

My biggest life inspiration is my mother for all that I do. As I grow older and the years continue to pass by, I am constantly faced with curiosity about my mother's life and wishing for the opportunity to ask so very many questions. I want to know what it was like for her when she immigrated to the States and left her family behind. What her wedding day was like. What she wanted to be when she was little. How she found the courage to go back to school and become a nurse in the middle of her life. When she knew she loved my father. What it was like to open her own yarn store in Brooklyn. How she thought of her life. What was her proudest accomplishment. What was the scariest thing she ever did. What is her favorite childhood memory. So very many questions that are unanswered or answered thankfully through the perspective of my father. But how I wish I knew the answers to those and so many other questions. My mom is so much a part of me but she passed when I was 23 years old and I never took the time to ask. I squandered my time with my mom taking for granted the opportunity to learn as much as I could from her. She was the first real deep loss for me and continues to be the toughest. My mind wouldn't and still doesn't grasp the concept of gone forever. When I am home, I am constantly bombarding my father with questions about his life and the life of my mother and his mother. He tells stories about his life with my mother, and when he was younger. His life as professional and his life as an activist and young adventurer. I have asked about what it was like for him when Dr. King was shot and he shares that the most impactful passing was actually that of Bobby Kennedy. I can't get enough of learning of his life through his eyes.I continue to think my father's life could be turned into a movie and I am endlessly fascinated. 

This blog is about capturing some of my own memories. I am finding lately that some of my memories are starting to become fuzzy as I forget details of how I felt, how it looked and what it meant. I am afraid of losing these memories and hope this can serve as a good reflection of that day. I have so many regrets wishing I would have spent every moment asking my mom about her life. Not just my mom but so many loved ones.

Rich 

My friend Rich, was an absolutely amazing man and a truly wonderful friend. Rich had decided to go to college in his mid-thirties. He had been working in construction and had the courage to decide to change his life and go to school  for a Business degree. We met on Orientation Team and Rich as a non-traditional student was an excellent resource for the other non-traditional students. His positivity, warm heart and bubbly personality made us quick and fast friends. I  would often invite Rich to parties where he would come for a short while making everyone worry that he was a Narc, but he was amazing and charming and easily won others over. He always made me laugh and most of all he was there for me through many challenging times. He was an incredible friend. For all those that know my "I once crashed in a Hot Air Balloon story" Rich was the one that got me up in that balloon. He was a balloon chaser and had free flights for his friends...but more on that later. Rich didn't always have the easiest life and he had been through some very tough times personally. But he exuded positivity and nothing but kindness for others. He was a very special friend for me and so many that were able to know him.  

 I receive an Alumni magazine from my college Shippensburg University every semester. In the magazine there is a section for Alums to share news about jobs, births, weddings and deaths. There have been many magazines that I've received that I've barely given a second glance. But one day several years ago, I was flipping through the magazine and saw the name Richard S Hughes listed under deceased with the year he had graduated. I thought it couldn't be true and immediately called my friend Ed who was in Rich's same fraternity. He shared that he had learned about Rich's passing and that his family had wanted a small ceremony. I learned that he had passed two weeks after sending me an email update about his life. An email that I had starred in my email inbox and had yet to respond to. Knowledge of that still haunts me to this day. What really scared me was not being able to celebrate his life with others that care about him. Rich and I had a friendship where we didn't have many friends in common but we had a wonderful connection. I have so many friendships like that in my life and it scares me to think I may lose someone and may never know. Or that whenever I pass, so many special people in my life may never fully know how much they mean to me. Moving around so much, my family wouldn't know where to begin to notify others. 

Losing Rich in that way had a really profound effect on me. I constantly think about the celebration of life and death. I think through the people in my life and the experiences we have shared together. I also think often that when I die, my memories come with me. The feelings, the emotions, the love, the appreciation all go with me. This is my attempt to capture just a few of those memories.

Recent Events 
In the spirit of semi-disclosure, when I lived in Indianapolis I was told that I am at a high risk for cervical cancer and need to get checked several times a year to make sure that cancerous cells do not form. About a month ago, I had gone to the doctor and received an abnormal test and then during a second test was told that I would need to get a colposcopy and biopsy as it was abnormal once again. My doctors were very thorough and kind and prepared me for any result I may receive. They set me up with several support groups and scheduled me immediately for an appointment. I went for my exam and everything came out normal and clear. Phew! All is well and I am completely fine but it was once again, a wake up call. A reminder that I've heard all too often, that life is short and anything can happen at any time. We are certainly not untouchable.

As selfish and self absorbed as it may be, one of my biggest fears is being forgotten. I've grieved the loss of far too many wonderful in my life over the past 10 years and I hold onto my grief in a way that others share they have moved on. Life goes on and memories fade. We don't always share our stories of our loved ones and in one generation, it seems that we disappear. It's a hard pill for me to swallow.

So these are my reasons. This is my life. These are my people. These are my stories.
  

Monkey Tales the Journey

Welcome to the Monkey Tales: The life and times of Patty. This blog will document some interesting moments in my life but also tells the tales of so many others who have contributed to the person I am today. I am a story teller and I have lived a full and rich life of adventure, sorrow, compassion and joy. As I have moved around quite a bit in my life, I have found myself telling stories of the crazy, the wild, the stupid and the mundane. The two words used to describe me most are: Genuine and Interesting. I have been on a long time pursuit to take chances, to make memories and to make the most out of this life and it has thankfully resulted in some pretty phenomenal stories and a very long bucket list. 

One of my longest held beliefs is that every single person has a story. These unique set of experiences that have contributed to the strength of their character. One of my all time favorite things to do, is to sit down and learn about the experiences of others. I am eager to learn stories both good and bad as it is almost like a look into someone else's soul. These stories are a gift and I have always been grateful for the kindness that others have shared.

I believe stories are a window to the soul...and these are mine.