Goodbye Dad

Of course you’re an artist. You come from a family of artists. I’m an artist, your grandmother was an artist, and so was your grandfather.”My Father
Anthony Joseph Pollizzio 9/3/1926- 9/18/2017
Daddy and Linda

Dad & Me

Dear Friends and Followers-
I received a call this morning that my Dad passed away in his sleep at 9:35CST. I may be indisposed for a few days and since I usually post daily, I wanted you to know.

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Vaudeville theatre
All I have is a torn, grainy photograph of a man I hardly knew.
He was a contortionist in Vaudeville and the photo shows him folded in two like a piece of paper. Folks who knew him told me he could put his head between his legs and get his wallet out of his back pocket with his teeth. I never saw this myself, but that’s his legend.

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Waiting on DNA


So many people are of mixed heritage; everyone is from somewhere else. “-G. Willow Wilson

In January of 1973, my father changed his name. Not only his first name, but his entire legal name. In the district court of Harris County Texas, the man who was once William Clark Polley became Anthony Joseph Pollizzio. The reason according to court records? ‘The causes which induce him to desire a change of name and to adopt another are: That the name which the applicant desires his name changed to was his grandfather’s name and most of the members of his family are known by the Pollizzio surname, as is the applicant, and that it is for his interest and benefit to change his name and adopt another for the reasons aforesaid.’ The court granted his request.

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butterfly skullThe date, forever inked in crimson on her soul like a tawdry tattoo. November 6, 2012. Election day.
Two hours since the call.
Motorcycle accident, trauma center, broken bones, blow to the head, no helmet. I’m okay, he says.
She does not believe him. She is across the country, twenty-two hundred miles away.

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Un Pequeño Milagro (A Small Miracle)


The Gypsy Rose Restaurant

Since I began writing this blog, I have been on a journey through my colorful past. I search for photos to post that pertain to my particular story. I run across others that are meaningful and bring back memories of those I have lost touch with over the years.
One such photo was the man who was not my father walking me down a leaf strewn path on September 28,1996. There, waiting on the banks of the Perkiomen Creek was my future husband, Pete. It was an outside wedding at the now shuttered Gypsy Rose Restaurant.

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