As the first of Cody and Joan Nedimyer’s grandchildren, Paula Jo certainly held a special place in their hearts, of course. But this fondness was only intensified because of the lack of opportunities that my parents had to be around Paula, due to my brother Steve’s career in the USAF.
Make no mistake about it – when Steve, Kathy, and Paula came into Altoona for a visit, it was a very big deal. Time stood still in our little neck of the woods.
My mom’s love and devotion of Paula was almost over the top. On one visit around 1976 or so Mom was wearing this Bishop Guilfoyle sweat shirt – must have been a hand-me-down from Rich. Thing was old and tattered -purple letters on white fabric – the kind of ratty old shirt that you keep around to dust with during heavy duty spring cleaning or to wash a car with.
Well, while Mom was holding Paula during her first visit, Paula did the baby-puke thing all over this sweat shirt. This is a little gross, but Mom, for several months, refused to wash that damn sweat shirt. Now that would be bad enough, but Mom continued to keep that shirt in her weekly rotation! I am sorry, and we all adored Paula as well, but that was taking the loving grandmother gig way too far.
Once Steve and Rich moved out of the house, I assumed ownership of the third bedroom. This was a tiny little space (probably no bigger than 10’ by 10’) that was adjacent to Mom and Dad’s bedroom, but it was all mine. (I wonder why Joni didn’t pull rank on me for that?) I got an upgrade in middle school with a new bed frame and head board with matching dresser from Sears.
Then, as now, I employed a decor best characterized as a sort of Spartan bachelor dork motif. I kept my room very neat. On the headboard I had three items:
- An alarm clock
- A Pirate bobblehead that was purchased at the souvenir stand inside Gate A at Three Rivers Stadium. This was a piece of art, featuring a ceramic material with fine detailing that just screamed class.
- A Steeler bobblehead that was a Christmas gift from Sears. This thing was made of heavy duty plastic, met to withstand the harshest of treatments.
(At this point, you may be thinking: Joe, weren’t you a little old for this? But they were collectables – it is not like I was playing with them.)
When Paula was around 18 months or so and made a visit, I had man coverage and shepherded her up the stairs and into my room. Big mistake. What do you think any toddler would gravitate to in my room? Destruction was imminent. It didn’t take long but she beat the shit out of those bobbleheads.
The Pirate was the first victim. It only took a couple of whacks against the headboard to take a chunk of ceramic chin out of that thing as well as several other paint chips.
Thinking quickly, I steered Paula away from the fragile Pirate piece to the indestructible Steeler. What could she possibly do to that? Well, she honed in on an apparent design defect in the steel spring assembly that attached to the head of the unit. When she was done with the Steeler, it was looking like Linda Blair in the Exorcist – the neck was turned at a 90 degree angle from the rest of the body.
I thought briefly about speaking to Mom about my predicament – perhaps to inquire about financial reparations or maybe to garner some sympathy. But thought better of it. When it came to Paula, you really didn’t want to mess with Mom.
