DYNAMITE AND THE CAP

Parenting

2011-07-03T08:32:00.001-07:00

My favorite quote regarding parenting is that “it’s the hardest job you’ll ever love.”

My own experience is tempered to some extent by the fact that I only ever had the joy of parenting one child. A lot of parents who contend (or are contending) with parenting multiple children almost think that parenting a single child shouldn’t really count towards the claim of being a parent. I would certainly agree that a single child is simpler than multiples but I don’t believe the difficulty factor is linear.

My parenting experience was also fashioned by the fact that my son’s mother and I split up when my son was 8 years old. I wrestled and probably still wrestle with being the “absentee parent” for 5 of out of my son’s 7 day week from the ages of 8 through 21.

I did assume the role of dad though on most every weekend in those years. Some of what I consider to be my most treasured father/son moments occurred during the travel times that we each endured during what was slightly more than an hour’s ride each way that every weekend became the bookends for our weekend get-togethers.

We endured the pains of teenage angst and the problems that most every teenager inflicts on their parents and at times it certainly seemed that we feared that our decisions or direction wasn’t sufficient or incorrect.

I was always comforted when I met my son’s friends and listened to the stories of his activities. I was glad that we had a relationship with sharing those things was relatively easy. It seemed to me in watching my son develop socially that he was making a lot of good decisions. He never seemed to be any kind of disciplinary problem at school. He had difficulty with grades and getting homework done but, I could tell by the associations and friendships that he was developing that he had a real good head on his shoulders and had a well developed sense of right from wrong.

Once he graduated from high school (barely) the next few years were tough. I think they were very tough for him and for us as his parents. He “tried out” college a couple of times in the ensuing three years but, both times he was unsuccessful in making anything stick. He still seemed to be looking for direction. He also seemed to be withdrawing from society. He would sleep all day and spend his nights on the Internet engaged in online games, chats and whatever else was striking his fancy.

I got increasingly worried during that three year period and whenever I attempted to engage him in conversation on this, he would either shrug me off saying he didn’t want to talk about it. His attempts to assure that he was okay and that I shouldn’t worry didn’t help much.

Then one day, he approached me with the news that he wanted to move to Illinois. I was understandably curious and asked for rationale to support this new claim. He said he wanted to go back to school but he wanted to move to Illinois and attend a community college there. I pointed out that there was a plethora of community colleges within our native upstate New York and that as an “out of state” citizen, he would wind up paying more at an Illinois institution. He said that he had some friends out there who were willing to help him establish residency. He had already established a mailing address and that as a result of this action, he would only be charged the “out of state” rates for a reduced time frame and that he then planned on transferring to Eastern Illinois University. I again was curious but, all my arguments fell onto deaf ears and plans were being made for him to make this “big move.”

He enrolled in that community college. He did transfer to his chosen college (EIU), finishing his undergraduate work and graduated Summa Cum Laude all within the four years of announcing this move. On his graduation day, there wasn’t a prouder dad on the face of the planet. It wasn’t just that he had finally put his mind and effort towards a goal and accomplished it. It was because of the person he had now become.

I came to realize that part of what drove him to move to Illinois was a special friendship that he had with a girl he met during the online activities that he was pursuing while spending most of the daylight hours sacked out on a couch. The relationship that they had blossomed over that four year period and the year he graduated they announced their engagement. A year or so later at their wedding, again, you would be hard pressed to find a dad who was more proud or happy of what his son had accomplished and become.

They married the day before father’s day in 2011. The marriage ceremony and reception was nothing short of perfect and even though they felt like giving both dad’s a father’s day present the next day, they had already given us the best present a dad could ever hope for. They had extended our family, shown that they had a good circle of friends and family as a support group, they had a plan for the future and the ability to achieve whatever they put their mind to.

A Key West Sojourn

2011-03-12T11:05:00.001-08:00

The first two flights went off with nary a hitch...

Then we got to Miami...

We had a scheduled layover of just under an hour... We picked up a bite to eat (The orange peel and two pretzel sticks they gave us on the previous three hour flight had worn off) and proceeded to our gate ten minutes ahead of our "boarding time" - 2:45pm.

We met our fellow castaways; the professor and the Howell's were already there...

Total five passengers were scheduled to fly out on a 9-passenger capacity stick of gum with a wing nut and rubber band....

The highly efficient "chatty Cathy's" that were manning the gate podium we're engaged in a tense debate about the relative merit's of "Rosalita's Ninos" and apparently didn't make an association that time to board the plane had come and gone and that's why all five of us had visited the podium with questions about the status of the flight.

They finally thought it best to make an announcement over the PA system which resulted in a debate on who should make the announcement...when all five passengers are staring bullet holes through their skulls standing not ten feet away.

Anyway, the story that was relayed was that the flight was delayed because "the crew" was "tied up" in Customs.

I knew the lucky streak was bound to end at some point...

So we sat.... I did ask why the "tying up at customs of the crew members wasn't factored into their scheduling and after a little gnashing of teeth, they added "well the flight was late getting back from Cuba."

We were then visited by three large uniformed law enforcement officers with handguns and several stern looking suits who proceeded to confer with the "chatty Cathy's" (in Spanish of course) about the status of flight 9130... (A small sigh of relief because our flight was 9131).

The arrival of the cops with guns did create a bit more space at the podium because the five passengers all decided to back off about ten paces. I started investigating car rental avenues at this point.

Well about an hour and a half later, the skipper and his first mate (Juan and Carlos) were sprung from Customs and we were finally on our way...

We checked into the hotel and did a fairly intensive pub-crawl last night finally getting back to the room at around 1:00.

It seems the kid can drink... He held his own and was able to walk under his own steam the final block and a half from Fogerty's... He lost his capacity for intelligible speech during our stay at Sloppy Joe's an hour earlier and I believe was on autopilot while we listened to the band at Fogerty's.

Anyway, I peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth, showered and dressed and will be making my way down to Starbuck's to kill time while I'm waiting on the kid to rise...

See you later…

Family Reunions

2010-11-14T15:37:00.001-08:00

“Welcome, welcome… how ya been?”

Thus began another iteration of the family reunion. My parents’ generation within my mom’s side of the family had a lot of organization skills. One of the by products of this character trait was an annual family reunion gathering that moved around based on what segment of the family tree was going to be hosting this year’s event.

As I was growing up, it was always assumed that Labor Day weekend would be spent in the company of a lot of folks, generations of folks, many whom I wouldn’t know nor would I really ever get to know.

The locales would change, we would be Western New York one year, in the northern tier of the state the next. Sometimes we had a family in Rhode Island that hosted the event in a rented pavilion in a park in the outskirts of Providence.

When we were very small this was a royal pain. As we approached puberty, there were a few years when my cousins, my sister and I would find the opportunity to squeak out some fun from the get together.

As we reached the later portion of the teenage years, my sister and I rebelled. I think my mom and dad attended a few more and then the whole practiced wound down to only a very few folks and they were from branches of the family that we were even less familiar with.

In retrospect, I kind of wished that I had made an effort to reach out to this event in my adulthood. I’m not sure my parents’ were truly unhappy about the practice dwindling away but, when my Aunt (my mom’s oldest sister) passed away, the event management and planning had to fall to someone else and I believe that it initial fell to my Mom’s younger brother but, it was pretty much a very different event. My aunt had been the sole of the event and she kept meticulous family tree history within her archives. I have no idea what fate those archives have taken since her passing and the passing of my last remaining uncle in that branch of the family.

I probably was guilty of foregoing a chance that will forever be denied me now to get a glimpse into my ancestry. I did this primarily in the throes of youthful hubris, thinking that there wasn’t anything I needed to learn from those folks nor was there any value in changing my plans or devoting my time to the pursuit of either engaging in a relationship with my elders or in maintaining the ones I had.

My mom was the person that was always the one who put family first. It was at her behest that we participated in as many of the reunion gatherings that we did. She was the one that insisted that we make many trips up and back to the northern tier (some 300 miles each way) to visit her siblings and the family members from my dad’s side of the family. When I was younger we did this at least a 10 times a year. We did this even though it was a rare occurrence for any of the folks we visited regular to make the sojourn down to our downstate little town where my mom and dad had made their home.

The fondest memories of those family reunion was when I was perhaps 12 – 14. The bulk of my impression with the two family reunions that took place in those years was organizing a softball game with my cousins and some of the older generation. The fact that I loved baseball and loved playing (with anyone and literally at the drop of a hat) contributed to these two years becoming fond memories.

I had played baseball in little league and had only recently “aged out.” There wasn’t a provision for kids of my age group to play ball unless you happened to be lucky (and skillful enough) to make a junior varsity or varsity team within the school district. I was not that skilled. I played with passion but, little skill. Thus my ball playing days were relegated to gym class after my teen years began.

In those two years the reunion event was hosted in Rhode Island both years. Because the venue featured a great field, this was truly a treat. There was no such field resources in any of the other areas that the reunion was hosted for the next decade.

I remember that the first year the team I wound up on was victorious by a fair margin. I seem to remember that the teams were basically my generation versus the older generation. The following year was almost better even though the team I wound up playing for was not going to win. The team make up was a mix of both generations. The game was very competitive and a lot of fun.

I think even more fun than the game that year was that after the food was ready and some folks adjourned to join the rest of the family at the dining tables, some of us continued on in what was basically a practice. I recall that practice fondly as I think I was able to perform some of the best hitting that I was ever able to pull off in my life.

Air Travel

2010-11-14T14:49:00.001-08:00

As I sat in the airport in the autumn of 2010 waiting for the folks at that gate podium to announce the boarding of my next flight, I thought about the first flights I took as a child and how much the flying experience had changed over the years.

The first time my family flew was in 1971. My mom had been wrestling with some attacks of asthma and a perpetual bronchial problem and the doctor’s suggested that some time in the southwest (in a dryer environ) might be beneficial. We took that opportunity to visit some relatives in California and then a week or more in the Arizona desert.

The first flight was out of New York’s Kennedy airport. We were going to be making the trek from New York to California in a little over six hours (a good time in those days). My mom (who was always the worrier in the group) had been fretting over the experience for the prior month. My dad, who was always a bit more mellow, was also privately worrying about the flight but, was maintaining a stoic façade to hide his nervousness. My sister and I were 8 and 10 respectively and were just thrilled to be in the airport and were excited to fact this new experience of flying over the countryside and looking forward to a great vacation in a warmer climate.

When we had boarded, my sister and I vied for the window seat, on one side of the aisle (I won). My mom had the aisle seat so we were positioned on that first flight with myself in the window, my sister in the center seat and my mom on the aisle. My dad sat alone across the aisle. As the plane began to taxi down the runway, I was staring avidly out the window and marveling at how fast we appeared to be traveling down the runway. I did glance over at my dad who appeared to be praying with his eyes closed and his hands making an indelible impression of his hands on the arm rests of his seat. I don’t remember checking out my mom’s impression but, I do remember that dad’s nervousness was amusing to me.

The flight was all kinds of fun for the kids. We were greeted by the stewardesses and received flight pins to commemorate the trip. When we finally arrived in Los Angeles, I wanted to be the first off the plane and therefore the first within my family to touch California soil (or in this case the ground on the tarmac. There were no jet ways in those days so we wend down a staircase and walked across the tarmac to the terminal. I remember marveling at the warmth of the sunshine and the oddness of palm trees that I could see just outside of the airport.

We were met at the airport by my cousin Carol Ann and her husband. I remember the drive out of the airport on a driveway that was lined by palm trees. Having grown up on the East Coast, this was truly like arriving on another planet of sorts. The drive to the apartment complex that they lived in was filled with “ohhs and ahhs” from my sister and I as, it seemed, around every corner that there were more new and amazing sights to be seen and the promise of fun on all fronts.

That amazement lapsed rather suddenly when we arrived at my cousins’ home and we gathered that there wasn’t much to do for kids in this building. In fact, as I later found out, the complex they lived in was strictly “adults only” and my cousins had to secure special permission from the landlord operators to allow us to visit and stay with them for the five days we were going to be there.

I discovered that my cousin’s husband had been in Vietnam and since this was a topic that intrigued me, I wanted to question him on the topic but, I guess like a lot of vets, he didn’t want to talk too much about his experiences over there.

I did learn that he was a photographer / media type person who was involved in sort of a military correspondence position. He never carried a gun but I guess he still saw enough action that he was uncomfortable about talking about it. Especially to an 11 year old kid.

We did get to see the usual touristy kinds of sights during our only trip to California as a family. My cousin took us to Hollywood. We saw the Hollywood “Walk of Fame.” We took turns getting our pictures taken in front of Grauman’s Chinese Theatre. We spent a day at Disneyland.

The second portion of that trip started at the end of that first week of vacation. We flew to Tucson, AZ where we spent the next week driving around the desert. We took a small day trip to Old Tucson. This was an amusement park (of sorts) that used to be an old movie location that was the set for a lot of Spaghetti Westerns in the sixties and still featured a Wild West show and demonstration of filming and stunt activities.

The most memorable portion of that trip was actually the drive out to Old Tucson. The road was pretty winding and went over some mountainous terrain. My mother was the nervous type. I use to joke that she was afraid of the 20th Century. She had a kitten on the drive out to the Old Tucson park, which amused me (I guess all kids are fascinated about what generates a reaction in their parents).

Well, all too soon the vacation was over and we were then going to travel back home via two flights the first from Tucson, AZ to O’Hare International Airport in Chicago, IL and then the second hop from Chicago into Kennedy Airport in New York City.

The first flight took over in the morning and because of that timing, the meal that was served (yes, they still served full meals on flights back in those days) was breakfast, which as I recall consisted of eggs, bacon, toast and beverage. I was a very finicky eater in those days and I didn’t do eggs. When the stewardess came to pick up the trays she saw that I hadn’t eaten the eggs and chided me to eat up. Not wanting to disappoint, I attempted to eat the eggs to please the stewardess.

I guess I’ll never know what exactly caused it but I became very ill. The flight was pretty bumping as we were approaching Chicago. The crew had already given their instructions to return to the seats, fasten seat belts and prepare for landing. Despite this being only my third flight, I knew that there was supposed to be a disposable bag in the seat pouch in front of me in the event that you were getting ill and about to vomit. I looked for this bag but my luck was not going to be good on this particular day and at that particular moment. There was no bag and I knew I was about to vomit. I weighed out my options and decided to bolt for the bathroom.

Upon entering the bathroom, I heard a recording that stated in a very authoritative voice to “return to your seat.” A bright red sign that was flashing over the sink that read, “Return to your seat”, also greeted me.

Somewhat defeated and in a state of increasing panic I left the bathroom and went to the aisle in front of my seat in which my mother and sister were situated totally oblivious to my plight. My mom was seated in the center seat and my sister was sitting on the aisle. I managed to croak out, “Mom, I think I’m going to be sick.” This solicited the reasonable reaction of rifling through the seat pocket to retrieve the disposable “barf bag” that was there and swung around to hand this to me. The problem was she was late.

In the few seconds that preceded my vomiting, I was left with only a few options. I could swing around in the aisle and vomit in the direction of dad or I could remain waiting for the bag that was going to be too late and I vomited on my sister. Well, not on top of her but, certainly it wound up mostly in her lap. This event was most assuredly going to be one of those instances that she will always remember with feelings of dread and mortification. After my initial vomiting in my sister’s lap, I was not done. The stewardess then attempted to hustle me back into the lavatory and proceeded to continue vomiting all over the lavatory. Being still quite young (and now quite sick), I made a pretty big mess in both locations.

I’m quite sure my sister will forever remember this event with understandable mortification. When we landed in Chicago, I was taken by the hand and led to the cockpit. I was given the royal treatment. Some member of the crew (I can’t remember which one) took me by the hand and escorted me down a staircase and out onto the tarmac. This was intended to allow me to get some fresh air but, I only remember noise. The environment on the tarmac was more noisy and louder than anything I had ever experienced.

My sister, unfortunately, was given a towel. An opportunity to towel off and washed her up as best they could. They replaced the seat cushion that she was sitting in (we weren’t changing planes so we had the same seat assignment as in the first leg of the journey). She refused the notion (quite understandably) that she would sit in her underwear with a towel and sat in her vomit soaked clothes during the whole trip to NYC and the drive from the airport to my aunt and uncle’s house where she was finally given a chance to grab a shower. I felt much better after emptying my stomach in the landing into Chicago and the second leg was not as rough.

Jazz piano player

2010-11-01T17:56:00.000-07:00

As I was walking down the street on an Indian summer evening in Troy, NY, I heard the faint tinkling of some fine jazz piano. Drawn by these soothing tones, I entered an establishment known as the Monkey’s Paw. The entrance was a steep walk-down off Third Avenue and as I opened the door, I almost thought I was being transported back to a mid-1930’s speakeasy.

The bar itself featured a wide polished rail, a nicely finished wood grain and the almost mandatory full mirror lining the wall behind it. The establishment wasn’t real crowded but, the interior was almost completely filled with a cloud of smoke.

The piano was sequestered along the back wall of the dining area and the player appeared to be a balding, somewhat round, white man who flashed a warm smile at me as I approached.

He wore a sweater vest that seemed to hide some of his bulk. His face had wizened look and the grin he almost seemed to continually wear, was enhanced by a graying moustache and five o’clock shadow.

I couldn’t help but be reminded of my favorite uncle as I was growing up. His name was Ivan and he also played piano. His misfortunes as an adult were many. He never could seem to hang onto money. He worked in several movie theaters in northern New Jersey when I was small but, something happened in the late 1960’s (something neither he nor my parents ever confided in me about) and he was forced to move in with us when I was about eight or nine years old.

My mom’s family had seven children. Which wasn’t all that unusual in those days. The area where she grew up was very rural in setting. Two of her siblings died during childbirth or as a young baby. Mom was the middle child with two brothers younger than her and one older sister and brother. Ivan was the next to last of the surviving kids. My maternal grandmother died when my Mom was about 12 years old. Because of the situation, she, for the most part, played mom to her younger brothers. Ivan was always very loving and appreciative of his older sister’s care. In his eyes, she could do no wrong.

At first when my uncle moved in with us, I was thrilled. He was, without a doubt, the most fun relative I had. He was playful and enjoyed laughing and joking with almost anyone. He also was a great storyteller. He never had to work hard to get laughter out of either my sister or myself.

As I stated earlier, he also played piano. In my mom’s family, every kid played an instrument. The oldest sister sang and played some piano (not as much or as well as Ivan), the oldest brother was a fiddle player, my mom played the mandolin, Ivan was the piano player and the youngest brother played guitar.

My mom tried to teach me the mandolin when I was kid and was drawn to the instrument. She had a very old, antiqued mandolin that was built and purchased back in the 1920’s from the Montgomery Ward catalog. It was a beautiful instrument and in time I became a little more adept at playing it. It wasn’t until Ivan moved in and encouraged me to play with him taking keyboard parts that I truly embraced the instrument. We developed a little bit of a catalog and would play at family gatherings mostly. Ivan loved the pop music of the 1950’s and 1960’s but mostly what we played was ragtime and bluegrass with a smattering of classic country.

I remember one great story that occurred shortly after Ivan moved in. We had a fairly severe cold snap that followed a significant snowstorm. At the end of the storm, the temp shifted during the day and the result was a slight drizzle of rain in the following day followed (again) with a cold night.

What all of these sudden swings in temperature yielded were the absolute perfect conditions for creating a hard shell of ice atop a foot of deep snow. This was great for sliding. When I returned home that afternoon, I went body sliding down the hill and found the conditions to be extremely slick. It was great fun. The only problem was that I couldn’t get back up the hill.

Being the resourceful young man that I was, I walked further down the hill and dipped my rubber boots into a cold stream after breaking through some ice to get to the liquid. The combination of the water on the rubber boots made the rubber stick to the ice thus allowing for the means to walk easily around on the slick ice covered snow. Once I discovered this, I called a neighbor friend of mine over and showed him the same trick.

Now all of this led to some scheming that would not be uncommon in a typical 8 year old. Let’s lure other unsuspecting kids to the hill and not tell them about the ice water trick. We had great fun after we lured both my younger sister and another neighborhood friend of mine to the hill and laughed at the top of the hill while we watched them struggle to try and climb up the hill on the slick surface.

Well, this all came to a sudden halt when we heard my Uncle calling from the house and making his way out to the top of the hill where the two of us (my friend and I) were standing. We gulped and tried to feign ignorance as to how the two young ladies at the bottom of the hill got there.

Ivan had been sleeping as he was working nights in those days and therefore was dressed in pajamas, a robe, and slippers. Shortly, on his heels, my mother (who had returned home while I wasn’t looking) came stomping out to the hillside as well. My mom and Ivan surveyed the situation for a few seconds. My mom (being the logical creature she was) decided to look for a walking stick, something she could use to chop through the ice and provide some means to maintain a footing on the slick surface of the snow-covered ice.

The outside temperature wasn’t too severe but, the ice had hardened so much on the overnight that it was truly an ice skating caliber surface atop the snow.

Ivan, being the illogical person that he was, decided to trudge towards the girls “stuck” at the bottom of the hill. My mom called out a warning to my Uncle as he started to walk down the hill but, he ignored the warning and stated the famous last words… “ Oh, I won’t fall, I have slippers … on…” Of course he started sliding on “slippers” and was bowling over the girls at the bottom of the hill before he got out the word “on.”

My friend and I being the logical kids that we were decided that discretion being the better portion of valor… we should make ourselves scarce. I circled the group, re-dipped my rubber boots in the water and then decided I should help out. My Mom had already worked her way down the hill and had escorted the other neighbor girl up the hill and was returning for my sister. I was at that point trying to act gallant and was escorting my sister up the hill with the aid of my wet rubber boots up the slippery slope.

Once we had all gotten up onto the top of the hill, my neighbor buddy made like a hockey player and got the puck out of there. My sister’s friend had already vacated the premises after being rescued by my mother.

Which left me (the mastermind to the ill fated “prank”) to face the combined wrath of both my mom and my uncle. My sister had already sequestered herself within her room and had moved onto homework.

I reluctantly started to make my way indoors to receive my punishment. I walked into the kitchen to see both my mom and my uncle laughing hysterically while sitting at the kitchen table. They kept repeating… “Oh, I won’t fall, I have slippers….” And then the two of them would again break up into fresh peals of laughter.

I shuffled into the scene and was about to stammer out an apology when the infectious laughter hit me. I still managed to get an apology out in between the chuckling but, it almost wasn’t necessary.

I’m not sure I got away with anything on this or rather my mom just couldn’t (with a straight face) begin to admonish my actions on this day in between laughing fits at the silliness of the plight of all involved.

This story would be repeated and embellished for year’s to come particularly when my mom would have the opportunity to reminisce with any or all of her siblings.

This memory came back to me in that subtle but very powerful way that fond memories will resurface and then linger within your consciousness at some seemingly unrelated twist of circumstance.

I stayed and listened to this jazz pianist play a couple of tunes that I was unfamiliar with but, then cranked up my courage (I think bolstered by that familiar smile on his lips) and requested that he play Scott Joplin’s “The Entertainer.”

He said that it had been a long time since anyone had suggested any ragtime but, he knew it was only too happy to acquiesce and gave it a whirl. Afterwards, he asked how I knew the tune. Not surprisingly, I cited the movie “The Sting” for which it was the theme song but I also talked with him about my uncle and how he taught me the song.

I told him how Ivan had always had impressed upon to learn the tune, how we always played by ear and felt the music rather than “played” the music. The response I received from the jazz piano player was that “I think he told you the right way to play music.” He also admitted that, he too, had never learned to read sheet music and played only by ear (or by feel… as Ivan would have put it).

Pain

2010-10-11T10:36:00.001-07:00

Sometimes it seems that pain

In some cases, gut wrenching pain

Is comforting.

Especially when you aren’t sure whether you’re still alive

Or

Perhaps wondering whether what you’re seeing (and feeling) is

Real

Or

Not.

He lay against the side of the car

Relaxing his body

Having grown tired of attempting to fight gravity and trying to twist his body so that his

Perception of the world jives with where he thinks the horizon

Lies.

It hurts but at the same time, he’s glad it hurts.

Not Really All That Logical...

2010-07-24T09:43:00.000-07:00

I love the way she stretches in the morning. The cute little scrunching up of her face as she alternately tenses and relaxes muscles that have been sleeping.

The wind just kind of blew us together. Neither of us was really looking for a relationship but, as I heard in a movie (Fools Rush In), she was everything I never knew I always wanted.

When I was kid I would often dare myself to do the most outrageous things but inevitably I’d always find some rationale to bail out at the last minute.

When I look back though, there were two decision points in my life where I took a chance, but even in those instances I knew in my heart that the paths that I was chose were (without a question) the best course of action to take given the current circumstance. I hadn’t worked out all the details yet but I knew everything was going to be all right if I just trusted my instincts and followed my heart.

I wonder where the courage comes from in those times. What emotions and criteria are involved in the spirit to drive someone either away from an emotional relationship or into one? Where do we get the courage to allow another to come into our lives and to see ourselves when we are most vulnerable?

Man is not a logical creature although some of us feel we are bound by logic and behave rationally (in most situations). I don’t think there is any man, woman, child or even animal that is immune to the need and without a capacity to love as illogical as that is.

I’ve never been much of a “social animal.” In most cases, if you put me in a room with more than a few people that I don’t know, chances are I’ll probably stay silent off to the side and take in the room for quite awhile. I would only get engaged in the situation if/when I am either pulled into a conversation or if I somehow, oddly, get comfortable with the circumstance.

I met my wife through an online acquaintance. The first time we actually met face to face was in at an airport (we had previously agreed to meet in a neutral location…a city between our two homes) and there was quite a crowd in the room as her flight disembarked. Oddly enough, despite the fact that there were many other strangers present, I didn’t feel uncomfortable at all greeting her with a warm hug and kiss.

It's warm

2010-07-05T11:23:00.001-07:00

The recent wave of warm weather that has enveloped the area coincided with my needed to get some work done on my wife's car.

The problem began a few weeks ago when it seemed that one of the two front tires on the vehicle began to lose air. We found it low on a Tuesday morning. I re-inflated the tire only to find it totally flat a few days later.

Fortunately, none of this led to wife being stranded on the road (she doesn't USA the car much other than local grocery shopping, medical appointments, and occasional lunches.

We had the tire supposedly "repaired" last week but, the problem resurfaced two days ago stranding her at home and causing her to miss a medical appointment.

I was unable to give the problem any attention until today and as the summer sun started to bake the area, I was faced with changing actors in my driveway.

In my younger days, this would not have been viewed as a daunting task but it became one today.

The first step was to empty the contents of the trunk in order to get at both the spare tire and the jack.

The trunk had become a secondary storage facility and this step took some time and effort.

I quickly worked up a sweat and probably should have strongly considered changing into "work clothes" but didn't.

The next step was to get down on the ground to properly place the jack in the one position that the manufacturer intended you to use to jack up the car utilizing the "killer bee" scissor jack that was provided with the vehicle. The scissor jack was conveniently located under a panel in the trunk and since it was never used, you almost had to insert yourself within the trunk to gain enough leverage to remove it from it's hidden perch.

Having extracted the scissor jack and located the proper position on the undercarriage of the vehicle I was able to get the car raised and began to remove the lug nuts. This turned out to be a difficult task as I only had the manufacturer's provided lug wrench which is too short to provide very much torque. I wound up stepping on the wrench (a precarious position given my size) to break the lug nuts loose.

Having accomplished this step, I removed the flat tire and positioned the spare tire into position and had hand tightened to lug nuts onto the wheel when I needed to straighten myself up and stretch from the strain that I had put my under utilized muscles through in these tasks. I made the mistake of using the vehicle as a support when I stood up. I realized too late that I had committed a cardinal sin and I hadn't set the parking brake so the car promptly and uncerimoniously fell off the jack.

I was really lucky that I had placed the two lug nuts on the tire at opposite positions so it fell pretty much in place and the only ground I lost was I needed to jack up the car again to get the rest of the lug nuts tightened properly.

At this point I was dirty from coming into contact with the tires and drenched in sweat.

All of these efforts were completed and this then led to my sitting at a mall sweaty and bored... It was a nice day and I thought, at a minimum, we should be spending the day outside and in dome close proximity of a body of water.

I was pleased and fortunate to find a lounge in the mall and proceeded to kick back and relax while doing some people watching....

Have a Day

2010-06-13T05:18:00.001-07:00

So, here's the thing... I think all life derived from an unfortunate bout that God had with a bad sushi bar.

Basically, you are given some pretty awesome natural resources but, because you are placed in a potentially toxic environment, you are given choices that often lead to spending a long time in rooms with porcelain fixtures. The best that you can really hope for is to learn from the bad mistakes and to find (and carry) some decent reading material for when you make bad ones.

So here I sit...

It was looking like it was going to be a long day. It never bodes well when you return to your cubicle to find someone else (someone you have never met before) sitting there.

The first thing i did was to check the name plate (still my name there) and do a quick reality check... Seems that my department had acquired an intern and since the unit was not expecting me back from the last business trip that early, they had placed this young kid there. Okay, crisis averted but, first problem/question... How do we resolve the seating issue?

The next few minutes, made the first problem even more complex. It seems that the cyber security folks had tracked down the evidence of a Trojan virus to my cubicle. As I was searching the halls for my supervisor, I ran into the security folks who promptly confiscated my laptop. I tried to explain to these wonder kids that I had not even attached my computer to their network yet that day (and that they could/should be seeking out the young intern) but, that wisdom fell on deaf ears.

So, I was asked to accompany the security folks down to their little penalty box while they embarked on a proctology exam of my laptop while I waited on the bench outside the office (visions of sitting outside the principal's office flashed through my brain) I tried again to explain why I was pretty sure that they should be seeking out the new intern but, again this was discounted by the security analyst that "was handling my case."

After about forty five minutes, they had come to the conclusion that the source of this identified virus threat was not my laptop and they released me (to go where?). I decided that since they had been such attentive investigators, I didn't bring up the intern anymore...

I proceeded to (again) seek out my supervisor to attempt to address the seating issue and eventually was told that he left for the day. I then found a conference room and decided to squat there for the balance of the afternoon.

I didn't manage to get a whole lot done but, justified that with the fact that i had been dealing with the other issues. I left that afternoon amidst hearing about this virus threat that is going around the IT department... Gee, I said, I hadn't heard anything about that...

I left for the day and proceeded onto my all too familiar commute home. After merging onto the NYS Thruway, I looked into my rear view mirror to see the flashing lights of the state trooper who was about to be making my acquaintance to the tune of a $100 dollar fine for speeding.

I got home and asked the wife what we were having for supper and she told me that she thought we could go out and try that new sushi bar...

Driving through AR

2010-05-12T11:34:00.001-07:00

We took a leisurely drive through a rural stretch of northwestern Arkansas today. We were traveling through the Ozark hills on a divided highway (two lanes in each direction) when I noticed something peculiar.

Every now and again I would pass a roadsign that appeared to be placed backwards from the perspective of the motorists that were passing them.

I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that the signs read "Wrong Way, Do Not Enter.". Apparently (based on the sheer number of these signs) this is a big problem in Arkansas.

They must be plagued by a large number of directionly challenged motorists in this state.

Weekends with Jimmy - Part III

2010-04-04T15:06:00.000-07:00

I was going through a lot of changes in the first five years after the break up of my first marriage. Getting to spend time with my young son on weekends was cathartic (I think for both of us). It allowed us both to cling to some semblance of our past life while cultivating the on-going father-son relationship that has always been near and dear to my heart.

Our weekends began to take on a familiar pattern after only a very few months. We would meet generally on Saturday morning (sometimes as early as Friday night if that was possible given the schedules of both myself and my ex father-in-law). We would go to the mall and hang around, potentially take in some movie. We would have a grand breakfast on Sunday morning, talk about books, school, computers and computer games (a favorite topic of my son over the first 5-6 years) and then get ready for the ride back down on Sunday afternoon/evening.

As much as I relished the thrill of going to pick him up, I hated to see the end of the weekend come because it seemed that I would just get used to having my son around when I had to say goodbye for five days. The ride back on Sunday evenings was always long and lonely.

He eventually did get enrolled into a private Christian school in the year after I left. His mother and I discussed this and it was decided that we would give it a year to make a decision but she felt pretty strongly that he would do better in a smaller environment.

After about a month of attending this new school, the conversations that cropped up within the car on the way up on Saturday morning began to get interesting.

“Dad do you believe in evolution?”

“Do I believe in….” Okay where the heck is this going?

“Evolution as in all species evolving in time through the use of natural selection and the adaptation of all species to their natural surroundings….?

“ Yeah, I guess…”

“Yes… I guess I believe in evolution. Why do you ask?”

“Well, the kids are calling me Evan.”

“Evan?…” Oh, I think I get it…

“So, this has become a topic of conversation in school?

“Yes.”

“In science class?”

“Well, no but, you see they all seem to think that there is no such thing as evolution. When I try to explain it to them, they laugh at me…”

“You’re kidding….”

“No.”

“Have you brought this up to your mother lately?”

“No…”

“Okay, I give her a call later. Anything else going on in school?”

Weekends with Jimmy - Part II

2010-04-02T20:55:00.001-07:00

“I’m not getting along too well with my teacher this year.” Jimmy said.

“Okay, got that but, if you change schools, you’ll be leaving behind all of your friends in the public school. Just want to make sure you understand all the implications.”

My son then went on to tell me that he was going to accompany his mother and grandfather next week to some open house at the private school.

“Which one specifically are we talking about?” I asked.

“The St. Christian’s Boy’s Academy”…

“A Catholic school?” Overstating the obvious.

“Yeah, I guess so…”

We had not even taken the step to get my son baptized. I was curious how that would play out in a Catholic school. His mom and I discussed religion when he was born and decided that we thought it presumptuous to go through the motions of baptism and other religious sacraments before the child was able to decide for himself what faith, if any, he wanted to pursue. We felt that our responsibility was to expose him to the choices and let him decide when he was ready. Here was 8 years later talking about Catholic school (well, actually it was his mom that was talking about Catholic school).

He would eventually make that change in the coming year, which leads to some other interesting developments we might get to in the coming sections of this story. For now, we’ll go along with the rest of this particular weekend.

We proceeded with the ride up to the capital district of New York and my meager little three-room apartment. “So, what do you want to do this weekend?”

“Can we go get bagels?”

“Sure.”

My son had fallen in love with a local bagel shop in Troy. It became a standard ritual either on Saturday or Sunday that we would wind up there and either get a bag of bagels and return to the apartment or we would eat in at the restaurant and talk. Jimmy also enjoyed the fine array of juices this shop also offered.

As we crunched on the bagel sandwiches, I checked out the areas movie offerings. It was also a favorite activity of ours to check out a movie on these weekends. I read off the selection of movies and my son picked one that interested him.

We returned to the apartment to drop off his bag of clothes and his video game console (he rarely traveled anywhere without his console of choice in those days). We then set out for the local movie theater that was featuring our afternoon’s movie.

The fire

2010-04-01T15:52:00.000-07:00

The first I noticed that something was wrong was the sound. Popping and crackling as the insulation around the wires melted and the electrical system shorted out.

Then I looked out our bedroom window and saw flames shoot out the eves of the building across the street. The fire curled cleverly up onto the roof then licked and leaped towards the black night sky.

Then I smelled the smoke. It smelled like the smoke from burning trash in a barrel; the smell of the smoke from burning paper and plastic; a smell that you feel in the back of your throat.

Rhinehook was a small town on the bank of the Hudson river. There was only one Chinese restaurant, a dilapidated hotel, and a small cafe. Next to the cafe was an attached house - it was this house that was on fire now. The Rhinehook firehouse was just 20 yards down the road from the cafe.

I didn't call 911. I was sure that someone had called already. I walked downstairs with my wife and we went out into the square in front of the cafe. There were a lot of people standing around, watching the fire. Their faces were lit by the flames. I was reminded of campfires - quiet, flickering faces staring intently.

Minutes went by, I wondered where the firetrucks were. The house was a blaze now. Just to the right of me I heard someone sobbing and noticed for the first time a young woman wrapped in a blanket. She moaned and yelled out "He's still in there!". I don't know why I thought she was talking about her dog. We had just moved to town and didn't know anyone, certainly didn't know if she even had a dog, or if she had a cat. The next day I found out she had a boyfriend.

Weekends with Jimmy - Part I

2010-03-31T06:19:00.001-07:00

I watched him as I pulled into the diner parking lot. He was sitting in the passenger seat of his maternal grandfather’s Lincoln Town car. I took some encouragement when I saw his face light up as he noticed my car approaching their parking space. I waited in my car while he fished his bag out of the backseat and said good-bye to his grandfather.

When he crawled into the car, he was already raring to go with stories of his daring do within his school experiences and of course his ongoing bouts within video games.

He was my eight-year-old son. His mom and I had broken up less than two months ago. I wound up following a job opportunity in a neighboring city that was about 100 miles away from the home that I left. The home that my son and my soon to be ex-wife still lived in. We had mutually arranged for meeting half-way between our two homes on a weekly basis in order to allow my weekend visits with my son.

Because my ex-wife wasn’t keen on driving, she had somehow talked her dad into doing the driving for these visits, which required the two of us to meet once on Saturday morning and once on Sunday evenings every weekend. This pattern would persist for the next 13 years.

The two-hour drives on both weekend days (1/2 of which) afforded me an unfettered captive audience with my son. These encounters would become some of the most treasured and best times within our father / son relationship. These hours of talk would become the means we took to keep each other up to date with what was going in both of our lives and they also afforded me the chance to talk through all of the adolescent problems that my young son would be going through.

I treasured these times. My career became the escape mechanism that I used to not have to deal with the dissolution of my marriage. The damage to my emotional make up coupled with the shake to my ego made the first five years after the breakup very hard to work through. My relationship with my son was the one bit of stability in my life.

My standard workweek with the organizations I was employed in over the first ten years after the breakup averaged around 60 – 70 hours a week. Despite the all-consuming aspects of my career, I devoted every weekend to my son.

“So, dad… this week mom is considering sending me to a different school next year.”

“Oh… why…? ( I was already calculating what this was going to cost me…)

“Well, she thinks that I would do better in a private school.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

Ode to the "Old Professor"

2010-03-28T07:03:00.000-07:00

The outlook for the season isn’t brilliant for the Metropolitans on this day

The pitching staff is questionable and Carlos Beltran won’t play (until May)

And when Reyes went out because of Thyroid and Rodriguez’s eye was pink

A pall-like silence fell upon the camp, t’was heard “they’ll drive me to drink

A straggling few got up to go in what was deep despair. The rest are heard to say,

“it won’t be as bad as last year. I’m sure they’ll win. I’m sure they’ll play.”

They thought “if only Casey could but get a whack at this team.”

Perhaps the ol’ perfessor could find a way to dream.

Casey could tell the fans why there is still hope to find

He could get the team to dare. He could get them to shine

Heck, we’d put up even money now. We would have no doubt.

We’d fill the Citi’s bleachers if Casey was in the dugout.

There was ease in Casey’s manner as he handled all the press.

There was pride in Casey’s bearing and a smile always on his face.

When the crowd would inevitably cheer he would lightly doff his hat.

No stranger to the New York fans. Casey’s talent was a fact.

The pitchers would certainly benefit from all the wisdom he could impart.

He saw all the best come and go. He saw the worst fall apart.

The hitters would have no doubt on when they were to swing.

The players would all know that Casey earned five consecutive rings.

The outcome for the season would surely be sealed “All I ask is that you bust your heiny on that field.”

The Mets would have new direction and purpose, playing the game with renewed vigor and lust

Contending would be certain; winning all would be “a must”

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,

The band is playing “take me out to the ball game” and all the fans’ hearts are light,

Somewhere championship banners are hung for teams that run the gamut.

There is no joy in Queens this year, Casey Stengel isn’t on the planet.

Valentine's Day 2010

2010-02-14T05:17:00.001-08:00

As John Lennon once said, “all you need is love.” The world may someday come to this same determination but, I think we are more than a few years away from that enlightened state.

Valentine’s Day 2010 find us embroiled in an increased amount of violence in Afghanistan, an increase in the fears of a Iranian nuclear state leading to heightened potential for violence or hostility there.

Our president boldly stated that “We are at war” in reference to Al Qaeda which is not even a recognized nation-state but a network of violence loving terrorists with an agenda that apparently has no clear direction but, has a common denominator of anti-west sentiments.

The world is beset with many problems but, mankind has yet to really rally around a common goal of solving any particular issue but, instead has increasingly taken a stance of isolationist politics and circling the wagons against threats like drug trafficking, cyber warfare and “freedom against terrorism.” In all cases, the all too easy reaction is a violent one. We continue to amass military to combat what are really sociological phenomenon. Violence will only beget violence. War makes War…nothing else.

Instead, we should be focused on the problems that are facing all future generations like, global warming, the rising of poverty, over-crowded cities, starvation, diseases with no universal health care in sight and a staggering world economy that has all the ear marks for disaster for future generations to attempt to resolve.

In the meantime, we all should take a cue from James Taylor’s tune and “Shower the people you love with love.” It could be the one thing that we all can do that will make a difference in the world’s situation.

Fear and Loathing in the 21st Century

2010-02-07T08:49:00.000-08:00

If Hunter Thompson attempted to write his ode to the search for the American Dream today, it would look very, very different. The fable would have to chronicle an ever eroding landscape changing forever the definition of what the dream was all about.

The American Dream has become a different beast in today's world. It's becoming more and more obvious that our hold on being the dominant society in the world community is facing or has already fallen by the wayside. Our inability to maintain a culture focused on innovation has led to an almost inevitable shift to more of a service oriented society. We have become the biggest consumer on the face of the planet. We are consuming more natural resources and foreign made products than any other nation in the world. The two phenomena have contributed to our fall in the standings within the world community.

The actions of the leaders of this country in the past decade has also positioned us as being one of the more hated cultures in the world. Instead of accepting this notion and analyzing the causes, the administrations have adopted a "We're America, we don't care, we don't have to" attitude. This has only resulted in more resentment and more destabilization in the world community. It has also led to America becoming less safe as terrorism has continues to evolve and become more international.

The classic American Dream consisted of a home, a good job (subjective) a close-knit nuclear family coupled with all the other characteristics such as:

- Feeling safe
- Access to medical care when needed
- Access to spiritual services
- Opportunity to work hard, and make progress along the social stratus

All of this has become under attack or has already fallen prey to social pressures.

Our safety was a big deal and one of the primary campaign topics in both the 2000 and 2004 presidential elections. It was perceived that the democrats were not the best party to assert our safety concerns. within the world community. Subsequently, we have ticked off all of our marginal allies and even some of the allies that have been closer to us historically. in this manner, we not only suffered the worse terrorist attack on our nation but, squandered the event when all of the world's sympathies were with us. We have failed to find and hold the parties responsible for these actions accountable. We have instead been distracted. We've sent billions of dollars and resources to to combat nations that were perceived to be threats based on the most ridiculous of notions (a pre-emptive strike on a perceived threat that was never substantiated).

We have always responded to calamities on foreign soil that were caused by natural causes. We've responded to casualites of tsunamis, earthquakes, and volcanoes in recent times. We have not been able to respond in the same fashion and with the same effectiveness to calamity when it's occurred on our own soil and affected our own citizens (Katrina's devastation in New Orleans). We can't even seem to collaborate on universal health care for own people.

The recent recession has brought to a head the fact that a lot of the jobs that have traditionally been supported within this country have been leaving and leaving at an alarming rate. Since the focus in this country is treating corporation as almost having the same rights as citizens (when it behooves the corporation), we have allowed them to seek out cheaper labor in other nations while our own citizens have suffered contributing to the growing schism between the classes within this country.

the call

2010-02-06T09:55:00.000-08:00

The bell chimes,

the song of the sea rises in my ears.

I keep my eyes closed because the

sound...

creates all the colors of the dawn.

I'm chilled though the temperature isn't the cause.

It's the call of the ocean.

It's the call of the day.

It's calling me home...

Memories Are A Blessing

2010-02-06T09:29:00.000-08:00

I wonder sometimes if humans are the only part of nature that contains the capacity for memories.

They are precious and sometimes a curse but regardless they are a common element of the human experience.

We all have them.

They are connections to the past and guidance when making decisions on the future.

Sometimes I have to smile and wonder about some of my more stupid mistakes but it seems that they've led me to where I am today.

I watch how some animals can seemingly adapt to new circumstance, radical changes with what appears to be complacent means to let go of the experience and conditions that were part of their lives only minutes before.

Do they not have memories?

As I get older, I’m both worried and marveling about how my memories seem to serve me well but, that short term stuff is not sticking as well as it used to.

I’ll hang on as well as I can. As well as I’m allowed to and try to make sense of what is left and what is yet to come.

Crossroads - Part IV

2010-02-03T03:34:00.001-08:00

My son’s adjustment to the new living arrangements was about as good as I could have expected. I would always be filled with “absentee parent guilt” but, I really worked hard to not let my own personal pain impact on our time together.

I truly came to live for those two days a week when I could share some time with my son.

Once the pattern was in place… we started to work on creating our own memories. I never wanted to displace memories that he had of his mom, him and I as a family but, I wanted him to be comfortable with the new arrangements.

In that first year, I was working some insane hours during the week but I was able to hold fast on my assertion that the weekend days were my son’s. During those days, he was priority #1.

We typically watched a lot of movies, both in theaters and by renting movies at the local video store. I enjoyed letting him pick and we always discussed both the good and bad with each selection viewed.

In addition, my son was pretty enamored with computers and video games. He would often bring one of his gaming consoles with him and we would rent games and I would watch him play those games (I’ve never had the patience to take part in these games for very long).

In the fall of that year, I took my first vacation in this new position. Not having much money or time, we went on an extended road trip through New England and into the Canadian province of Quebec to the city of Montreal. In all we spent a week and saw some really cool things. We spent a couple of days lolling on the beach in Rhode Island, we spent a couple of days in Montreal walking around the city and trying to make sense of the signage in the city that was rarely in English.

At the end of that trip, I was seriously depressed when I had to drop him off. I had been with him exclusively for nine days and was totally used to having him around to talk and share experiences with.

His schoolwork was never garnering great marks but, he was a solid B student for most of his school career up until the breakup. The next school year, he started to receive a few more C grades but no failing marks. I was willing to let him slide for a time but continued to harp on the importance of keeping his schoolwork up and always asked if I could help him in any school projects that he might have been assigned.

Things were going rather swimmingly with him and I. I thought for sure that we might have turned the corner and he was rebounding well from the breakup of his family unit.

That is until we were driving south after a fun weekend around Thanksgiving…

Pain

2010-02-01T17:47:00.001-08:00

The Beat Goes On...

2010-01-30T06:24:00.000-08:00

Looking back on my relationship with my parents, I thought when I was between the age of 15 and 25 I was so much smarter, more sophisticated and more clever than they were.

That perception changed slightly in the next ten years. In that subsequent decade (now that my own child was growing into puberty) they were beginning to look at a lot smarter and more prophetic than I was willing to give them credit for.

By the time I was entering my fifth decade on the planet, they were looking smarter with every passing year.

Now that they are gone... They have become absolutely brilliant.

I can only hope that happens with my relationship with my son.

The beat goes on...

A Fresh Start

2010-01-28T17:54:00.000-08:00

A Fresh Start

Clean slate,
Can’t wait.
Starting over
We’ll be moving on
In a totally new manner

All mistakes,
All misdeeds
Are forgiven.
Forget the past
Live in the present

Future is what we make of it.
A chance for renewal,
A chance to make it right.
Isn’t that the promise of every
New
Day?

Changes

2010-01-26T17:47:00.001-08:00

Changes

Change is constant.
It’s one of the very few absolutes in this life.

I can’t imagine what the future holds
No one can.

Change is something that needs to become our friend
Not something to be feared
Or avoided
But, embraced.

It’s change that is the carrier for life’s lessons.

The miracles lie within.

Crossroads - Part III

2010-01-24T07:03:00.000-08:00

After I established a place to live in this new city, I began to explore my new environ.

I was a tad spooked by the urban characteristics of this new town. I had been born and lived all my life up until that move in a rural setting. It took a while before I was able to sleep well with the new sounds that became part of the everyday soundtrack.

My office was positioned on the street side of an revamped shirt factory. The building was situated about two blocks from a firehouse which also contained an ambulance company depot. It became the norm to hear that siren go off and hear the sound of the ambulance or fire equipment making its way down the avenue towards whatever trouble and duty called.

The weeks were focused entirely on my job responsibilities and at that point in my life, I realized shortly that I relished that focus. It enabled me to let go of the sadness and the emotional blow that the dissolution of my marriage and old life.

The weekends were committed to my son. I made the two hour round trip on either Friday night or Saturday morning to pick him up and repeated the same actions (in reverse) on Sunday evening to return him to his home (my old home). I would come to do this every week for 12+ years (with only a very few exceptions).

The trips to pick up my son were always joyous. My son enjoyed regaling me with what was going on in his life, in his school. We talked about what interested him, what video game currently he was engaged in, what music or book he was currently fixated on.

The trip down on Sunday would include some of those elements but, it was always overshadowed by the fact that I was returning alone. In the first years after the move, I always mourned a little and would feel sorry for myself (to some extent) on that return ride.

The rides themselves were great because at least half of the time, I had his full attention and he had a captive audience. They allowed us two hours of guaranteed “quality time” every weekend. In between the commutes I would try to plan some activities but always allowed my son to dictate the final itinerary for the weekend. We would often end up seeing a movie, eating out, going to some sporting events.

In the first couple of years we both developed a fondness for attending the local minor league baseball teams that were situated in close proximity to my apartment and in the winter months we embraced hockey. There was a minor league franchise that played in the city center. I had never been much of a hockey fan before but, after a few games I began to follow the team and learning more about the game. We were strictly spectators. I had learned early on that my son didn’t really like to participate much in athletics.

When he was younger and became of age for T-ball, I attempted to get my son interested in participating in the local (to his home town) T-ball league. Being a life long baseball fan that was obviously something I was relishing ever since he was born.

Unfortunately (for me) he lost interest, or maybe he never had any, in the sport. He dropped out of the league. Not wanting to be one of those pushy dads that attempt to push his own dreams onto his kid, I let him.

Crossroads - Part II

2010-01-22T16:35:00.001-08:00

“Jimmy… your mom and I have to talk to you about something.” The look in his eyes broke my heart.

“You see… um… your mom and I haven’t been getting along to good lately. This happens sometimes after grown ups have been living together for a long time.”

My son was now starting to get upset but, I could tell he was still listening very attentively.

I had to continue even though my heart was breaking and I knew my words were breaking my sons heart as well.

“We have decided to live apart for a while to see if that helps the situation. I’m going to move out and get my own apartment. I want you to come with me today to the area that I’m looking to move to and help your dad find a new place to live.

“Even though I won’t be living here, I’ll continue to see you every weekend. You’ll live with your mom during the week. You’ll come up and see me on the weekends.”

He was now crying.

My soon to be ex-wife was then attempting to console him while she was preparing a small suitcase for him for the weekend.

That first ride up to the Albany area was a rough one. For the first twenty minutes or so, he sat pretty quietly. I think was trying to stifle the tears and to possibly formulate questions. I encouraged him to ask me anything he’d like but, I said a lot of what was going to transpire in the coming months was going to be a work in progress. I wasn’t even sure how this would actually play out.

I wanted to be as honest with my son as I thought he could take.

We looked at two apartment complexes that day before returning to the corporate suite that was currently serving as my temporary base of operations. I was lucky that my current employer was gracious enough to let me stay here for a month until I could complete the move from downstate.

The following day we checked out a couple of other apartments before we had to return for my son to begin his first week without me living at home.

On that return trip, my son had screwed up his nerve to ask me how long this trial separation was supposed to last.

I answered in the most honest fashion I could.

“We don’t know. Right now, we are just setting things up. It’s likely going to take some time before we are able to make any decisions.”

Crossroads

2010-01-20T03:29:00.001-08:00

Sometimes, it seems, you instinctively know what path to take when you find yourself at one of life’s crossroads. Sometimes you don’t even recognize that you’re at a crossroads but the anxiety of having to decide between two very appealing directions causes you to pause and reflect before moving on. Time, you figure, and fate will judge whether the path chosen was the best.

I woke up this morning and knew that I was sitting right in the bisection of two divergent pathways and that I needed to make a decision because I’ve put off moving in any direction too long already.

You see, my marriage to a wonderful girl was skidding into a divorce court whether I wanted to believe this or not. I had been working two dead end jobs and really needed to make a change to establish a career in the information technology field. I had been working towards that goal without really acknowledging that this was what I was doing. I had actually garnered a second interview with a technology company in a neighboring city about 100 miles away from my current home and family.

If I was going to make a run at a technology career, this was a golden opportunity. It also was attractive because of the pain I was attempting to contend with in staying in my hometown while attending to the end of the only love affair I’d ever had in my life. Getting out of the town and into a new situation was both appealing and frightening.

In essence, making such a move would be taking on every major stressor in the book. I would, in one fell swoop, be moving into a situation where I would surely be mourning the passing of my marriage. I would be moving away from child, away from my family and my supporting friends. I would be moving to an unfamiliar area, moving from a mostly rural environment to a city, to a new job in a different industry. Couldn’t have planned for a more complete makeover.

It was one of those rare occasions where, as frightening as it appeared, I knew in my heart this was the right move. I didn’t even have to reflect long and hard about the pros and cons. I knew that to stay would be a move that I would come to regret. Moving on would afford me a chance to heal and to begin working towards a new start on many levels.

The roughest part of this decision was going to be moving away from my 8 year old son. I wanted to make sure that he understood the reasons and that I wasn’t going to be leaving his life by a long shot. It was going to be tough, but I was committed to do whatever I had to in order to remain a constant in his life.

The day I sat down with him and his mom to attempt to explain the changes that were going to impact on our family was the roughest and most heart wrenching of experiences. We did take the tact of calling it (what the legal folks called it) a “trial separation” even though I’m pretty sure that both my wife and I knew it was going to be a permanent change.

I made sure that my son had a hand in selecting the apartment that I chose to move to. I assured him at every step that I was going to be there for him no matter what occurred and that he would always have a place wherever I lived.

Key West Vacation - Part IV

2010-01-18T07:09:00.001-08:00

During the balance of the week’s stay we relaxed and took in a lot of activities that would not have been possible in any other environ.

We went for a nice long cruise on a glass bottom boat over the coral reef. This featured sipping a very well made set of Margaritas and discussing with several folks on the boat what the best margarita recipe would include. We took a lot of pictures and video to commemorate that afternoon.

We spent time at the roof top pool and bar of our hotel and every night we made our way down to Mallory square to watch the ode to the sunset ceremonies and all of the street musicians and performers that congregate there at that time of day.

We spent a lot of time relaxing on both sides of the island. We strolled through the residential areas and dined out every evening at a different eating establishment.

One of the best of these eating experiences took place at the Finnegan’s Wake Irish Pub. This was a great find and featured classic Irish and British dishes along with fine folk music in the evenings.

Another one that was very memorable was the Conch Republic Seafood Company. This restaurant was located on the gulf side of the island and had a fine view of an impressive marina where there were several catamarans that offered sunset cruises. The restaurant had a wonderful open setting that had some of the best seafood I think I had ever tasted. Having come from the New England region, we were very fussy about any type seafood chowder but this version was awesome.

All too quickly we had to say goodbye to our island paradise and head back to the northeast. It was a great break from our usual lives and I will always treasure this last vacation with my son. It remains one of those special father / son memories (at least for me.)

Travel

2010-01-16T09:58:00.000-08:00

When younger, looking to leave the small town of my youth, I pursued many avenues.

My dreams and aspirations were intertwined with destinations and exotic locales.

Seems that I not only wanted to accomplish the goals of my dreams but, I also aspired to see a lot of the world that, for me, was only viewable on TV

or in books

and magazines.

In one of my favorite lyrics from a Harry Chapin tune: "Its got to be the going not the getting there that good." I was sure that my experiences would only be heightened by learning and doing more in all portions of the world.

Now... older

I find that the goals were worthwhile. I achieved some and as I grew up, the goals morphed and changed for a lot of very good reasons. I got opportunities to travel but, only in the confines of my native continent.

A lot of those exotic locales are still only visions that I can glimpse on TV, the Internet or in my books and periodicals.

We all experience some degree of disappointment and disillusionment in our lives. If that's the worst I suffer, it was (and is) a truly blessed life.

Shoreline Sounds

2010-01-14T03:56:00.000-08:00

Listening to the water lap up on the shore.

I can hear the wind with the mixture of the sound of gulls

A bell. a single bell chimes probably from some fishing boat that is working

out of my line of sight

just over the horizon.

No other sounds come to my ear
I close my eyes and imagine what this shoreline beach felt like a thousand years ago

When there was no town.

No marina.

No tourists.

When there was no bell.

Key West Vacation - Part III

2010-01-12T03:49:00.001-08:00

That first full day in the Keys was a magical day. We finished walking over to the public beach and spent some time relaxing in the tropical sun. Then we took another long, leisurely walk from the beach over to the Hemmingway museum.

Papa Hemmingway was always one of my literary heroes and even though I had seen this museum (which was essentially, the compound that served as his home for the period of his life that he spent in Key West), it served as an enjoyable few hours in our trip. My son, who had previously only been introduced to Hemmingway’s work by a short reading in his high school of the Old man in the Sea, was also suitably impressed.

While in that section of the island, we also visited the lighthouse that stood sentry over the island a couple of blocks from Papa’s home base. We then went over to the southernmost point in the USA to take pictures next to the statue that commemorated that point.

After returning to our hotel, we rested up some from all the walking. I think the exercise worked towards drying us out to some extent from the previous evening’s reverie. After a brief power nap, we arose looking for food.

I decided that we needed to move down towards Mallory Square so that my son could adequately experience his first Key West Sunset celebration.

We stopped off at my favorite place for conch fritters on the way and equipped with the food as fuel, we headed over to Mallory square.

The celebration was almost in full swing when we got there. There were several street performers. We listened to the “Sourthernmost Bagpiper”, saw a sword-swallowing act and listed to a really great (but ragged looking) Reggae singing performer. The Reggae performer timed his closing song, a stirring rendition of the old Harry Belafonte “Island in the Sun”) to coincide with the actual sunset. It was an awesome experience.

After the sunset, the area on Duval street kicked into full swing. We stopped off at Captain Tony’s for a few drinks. We of course took the opportunity to toast to Papa Hemmingway since this was truly his favorite drinking establishment, even though Sloppy Joe’s now owns the original name.

Our trip coincidentally fell during the annual festival commemorating Ernest Hemmingway’s birthday. There were a number of activities going on that evening that were involved in this occasion. We stopped in at Sloppy Joe’s later that evening to witness part of the Ernest Hemmingway look alike contest.

We did turn in rather early (for Key West traditions) that evening but, we were pretty tired.

Sanctuary

2010-01-10T09:29:00.000-08:00

It's cold.

The world seems so cold.

We have developed a culture where most interaction with society and our fellow human beings is being disinter-mediated by machines, our cyber presence... Not "in person", face to face. Little physical interaction.

We are becoming hermits. Despite the advances in technology making travel faster and more prevalent, we are developing a culture where the travel to

see,

meet,

and work

with other people is getting discouraged.

It's too expensive.

It's too dangerous.

It's too hard.

Much better to send an e-mail, have a teleconference, use video conferencing technology... instant gratification and then disconnect,

back within the shelter of our home,

our cave,

our sanctuary.

I think man is inherently a social creature and I fear that this change in our natural patterns is causing much of the strife that the world is currently suffering from.

We are too disconnected with the pain and suffering of those that are less fortunate. It doesn't appear to be as horrible because we only see it on the flat screen TV.

We can be involved by sending a few dollars to the guy in the infomercial who says it'll help the starving kids depicted by pictures that are scrolling across the screen. They don't seem real and they certainly aren't anywere close to us.

Guess it's really not our problem but, here take a few bucks and then my conscience will be clear.

Click.

Back into the cave, the sanctuary.

Happy Birthday Elvis!!

2010-01-08T17:40:00.001-08:00

Today, is the King of Rock and Roll’s birthday. By the king, I’m of course referring to Elvis Presley, forget about the others that have attempted to lay claim to that distinction… Elvis is, and always will be, The King. He would have become 75 years old, if he was still alive, today.

His all too brief career pretty much changed the entertainment industry in ways that were never before even considered possible.

His appeal reached out to all facets of the music industry. His influence on music is evidenced by almost all popular musical acts that have come after him.

His career spanned four decades. It was meteoric in the 1950s when the call for military service took him across the ocean and away from his fans and career at almost the pinnacle of his popularity.

When he returned from military service, the Colonel, Tom Parker, escalated and changed the direction of his career by getting him involved in the making of Hollywood films. He spent the better portion of this decade making a number of films (most while not garnering a lot of critical acclaim were entertaining and performed well at the box office). Most of these films included numerous opportunities for him to insert musical numbers or at a minimum some supporting music. Unfortunately, there was little music production outside of the movie production during this portion of his carreer.

Towards the tail end of the decade, Elvis retuned to making live musical appearances beginning with a wildly popular television special in 1968. This was called by many as his “comeback’ performance.

During the last decade of his career (and his life) his career took yet another turn. He concentrated almost exclusively on music and performing. He almost single handedly recharged the Las Vegas entertainment scene. He performed almost exclusive in Las Vegas during the 1970s foregoing the more common practice among musical performers of touring. His shows were phenomenally popular in this city famous for spectacle.

In his career, he performed in 33 successful films, made several historical television appearances and specials., sold over 1 billion records, was nominated for 14 Grammy nominations (3 wins) and was awarded the Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award.

Because he died at such a young age (42), it’s hard to imagine how he would look today. More importantly, it will always be a curiosity and speculation of what he might have accomplished and the music he might have produced had he not been taken from us back on August 16, 1977.

Key West Vacation - Part II

2010-01-06T17:34:00.000-08:00

We checked into the hotel and did a fairly intensive pub-crawl that first night getting back to the room at around 1:00 am.

It seems my kid can drink...he held his own and was able to walk under his own steam the final block and a half after our last stop on the crawl that evening....

He had lost his capacity for intelligible speech during our stay at the third bar we went to (the world famous Sloppy Joe's) at around 10:00 pm and I believe was on auto pilot while we listened to the band at the last stop on our crawl, a club called Fogerty's, on Duval Street.

Upon waking the next day, I expected (and was not disappointed) to have a world-class hangover to contend with. Anyway, I peeled my tongue from the roof of my mouth, showered and dressed and made my way down to Starbuck's to kill time while waiting on my son to rise.

The weather was the usual gorgeous down island. I am always impressed by the beautiful combination of water, weather and easy manner in which the native folk in this city conduct their day-to-day affairs.

After finishing up with the latte, I made my way back upstairs in the hotel to see if my son had awakened yet. It turns out he was still sawing wood in his bed. I put together a note and told him I was headed down to the marina. If he woke up, he could call my cell or wander down to the marina (about three blocks from the hotel).
At the marina, I took up a position at an outdoor bar and started in with a couple of rounds of mimosas. I asked if there was any place to get food but, the barmaid said that the only place she knew that was serving breakfast was either in one of the area hotel restaurants or a small diner about three blocks over from the marina on the Gulf side of the island.

I decided to skip the solid food and go with more juice until my son could join me.

The view from the marina on this particular morning was fantastic. It was about 80 degrees at 8:00 and I knew that by noon, it was going to get pretty sticky. At that hour, there were very few folks wandering around that were true tourists. Most of them (I imagined) were either folks that decided not to go to bed, insomniacs or locals.

I enjoyed the quiet and the sunshine. The barmaid and I shared a couple of stories. Seems she was a Midwest girl initially and moved down to the islands two years ago after a vacation stay that never ended. She was the youngest of five kids and had led a pretty sheltered life back on her dad’s farm in Omaha.

When my cell phone rang, I knew it was son. He asked if I could bring him back some food and wasn’t up to facing life outside of the hotel room right now. I told him to go back to bed and that I would retrieve some caffeine and some food and bring it back to him within the next hour.

After our “breakfast”, we decided to take a walk over to the Atlantic side of the island to the large public beach and just say hi to the ocean for a few minutes. Along the way we purchased some essentials that we had forgotten to pack for the trip. Neither of us had thought to bring sunglasses or sunblock.

Key West Vacation - Part I

2010-01-04T19:03:00.000-08:00

My son and I were on our way to a long promised trip to Key West.

Back in the mid 1990’s, I found myself between jobs and badly in need of some degree of decompression time. I managed to secure a week off between jobs and booked a trip to Key West. It was the first (and thus far the only) time that I actually did a vacation alone as an adult. My son, who was 11 years old at the time, didn’t understand why Dad wanted to take this trip without him. I was a weekend parent due to a divorce three years earlier and would always be sensitive to the absentee parent guilt trip.

I promised my son at that time that when he was old enough (meaning 21), I would take him to Key West as it was more fun to go there as an adult. My truthful assessment at the time… so, here we are a decade later and I’m making good on that long ago promise.

The first two flights went off with nary a hitch.....

Then we got to Miami....

We had a scheduled layover of just under an hour.... We picked up a bite to eat...( The orange peel and two pretzel sticks they gave us on the previous three hour flight had worn off) and proceeded to our gate ten minutes ahead of our "boarding time" - 2:45pm

We met our fellow castaways; the professor and the Howell's were there already.....

Total manifest included five passengers that were scheduled to fly out on a 9 passenger capacity stick of gum with a wing nut and rubber band serving as propulsion....

The highly efficient "chatty Cathy's" that were manning the gate podium we're engaged in a tense debate about the relative merit's of "Rosalita's Ninos...." and apparently didn't make an association that time to board the plane had come and gone. This would explain why all five of us had visited the podium with questions about the status of the flight.

The gate attendants (Chatty Cathy’s both) finally thought it best to make an announcement over the PA system. This, of course, resulted in a debate on who should make the announcement....

The scene being made all the more superfluous because all five passengers are now staring bullet holes through their skulls standing not ten feet away from the podium where this nonsensical debate was taking place.

Anyway... the story that was relayed to the passengers was that the flight was delayed because "the crew" was "tied up" in Customs.

I knew the lucky streak was bound to end at some point.

So we sat.... I did ask why the "tying up” at customs of the crew members wasn't factored into their scheduling and after a little gnashing of teeth, they added "well the flight was late getting back from Cuba."

We were then visited by three large uniformed law enforcement officers with handguns and several stern looking suits who proceeded to confer with the "Chatty Cathy's" (in Spanish of course) about the status of flight 9130.... (A small sigh of relief because our flight was 9131).

The arrival of the cops with the flaunting of high callipered weapons did create a bit more space at the podium because the five passengers all decided to back off about ten paces.
I started investigating car rental avenues at this point.

Well about an hour and a half later, the skipper and his first mate Juan and Carlos (dubious position unrevealed) were sprung from Customs and we were finally on our way to Key West.

Silence

2010-01-02T05:21:00.000-08:00

Listening...

hoping to find in the silence some degree of direction and purpose.

The brilliant sunlight gleaming upon the new fallen snow makes for an almost dreamlike scene that is calming but it's the sound,

or rather...

the lack of sound,

that is so pronounced

at this hour.

I hear a neighbor's wind chime tinkling in the breeze.

It seems as if the chime is speaking to us...
telling us that the wind is portending that the day will be good.

The silence is slowly broken by the sound of the crisp wind combined with the sound of my heart beating in my ears denoting the passage of time.

It's too cold

For the sound of crickets
or
the sound of any running water from the nearby river.

Just the winter wind....and me

Little Misunderstanding - Part VII

2009-12-31T05:19:00.000-08:00

I did a little research on the train south and found that the Senator’s wife came from an “old money” family from New England. She had never sought out the spotlight and was likely a “stay behind the scenes” wife by choice.

Of course she made the public appearances that any politicians’ wife needs to make. She was last seen with her husband at the Kennedy Center during some kind of tribute for an opera singer from Poland. All the “A-List” folks in the Washington social scene attended the after party. It took place at the Plaza Hotel on the outskirts of the beltway and was still going strong the following morning.

Alana Jamesway left the party after the meal, around 9:30 pm. Her husband, the Senator was one of the last to leave. He spent time with a number of socialites that night but it was rumored that the starlet Vicky Shulmer had his attention for most of the late night portion of the activities.

All of this info added an enhanced degree of speculative anxiety leading up to the confrontation that I was working towards on the steps of the Senator’s townhouse. When we arrived, I asked the camera crew to hold back at the sidewalk until I had a chance to have a few words with Ms. Jamesway.

“Ms. Jamesway, I’m a reporting from the NY Chronicle, I was wondering if you would be willing to answer a few questions for me regarding the recent accusations involving your husband?”

“I’m sorry sir, I really haven’t been paying much attention to all of this stuff, I’m not sure I could help you.”

“We’d like to know if you had any statement on either the allegations of misappropriation of funds or the rumors regarding Vicky Shulmer’s alleged relationship with your husband?” Might as well go for the gold with the first question.

Her face contorted quickly into an expression of both hurt and shock. I immediately regretted blurting out the question in the manner I just did.

“I will talk with you but, only off the record and no cameras…”

“Sure… I understand, I appreciate that…” I turned back to the camera crew and told them that they were to wait on the street. I then turned and followed the senator’s wife into their townhouse.

We walked down an elaborate hallway with some impressive artwork on both walls and a plush carpet underneath. She wound her way into the kitchen area and made a bee-line for the coffee machine on the counter. She offered me a cup (which I quickly accepted) and took a position at the breakfast nook on a stool. I took a seat opposite her on the counter.

She began “ I know nothing about the allegations that the commission has put forward… My husband keeps most of his professional life to himself and we don’t discuss this in any capacity. What is this about my husband and Ms Shulmer?”

“Well, we suspect he was in New York in her company over this past weekend. We know that they spent the night in the same hotel on Sunday and were both seen leaving the premises Monday morning. I can’t state that they left together but there are rumors to that effect.”

“I can’t comment on that. We have a good marriage and I completely trust my husband. I’m sure you are mistaken about this alleged relationship. There must be some misunderstanding”

Little Misunderstanding - Part VI

2009-12-29T04:55:00.001-08:00

As it turned out the mystery man was our dear Senator. He had obviously duped us (and others) to think that he was heading off to work that morning. Instead he had circled back, reclaimed his friend (the starlet) and made a hasty retreat once our attention was turned elsewhere.

The question that was running through my mind was if there was any connection with the events that took place that day at the state legislature building and the supposed “robbery” that took place in the lobby of the hotel.

The two events combined to make a compelling distraction if that was truly their intent. Not being trained as barrister and having little knowledge in the trade of legal professionals, I was unsure whether such actions would constitute any type of criminal infraction.

The pace of the activities at the legislature building was calming down some. It seemed somewhat miraculously that there were no casualties and only some minor injuries due to the shootings. I decided to consult with some of the legal folks back at the station and offered up my theories as to the potential correlation of these events and the theorized purpose. I wanted to know if there was any kind of revelation what kinds of potential charges might be involved if the Senator was behind any of the diversionary tactics that took place.

The young female paralegal told me that there was definitely a potential for serious felony charges if the Senator was behind any effort involving firearms at a public gathering or the staging of a robbery to involve the reaction of public servants (police, fire, EMT, etc…)

Armed with this assessment, I asked our editor if I could be allowed to head down to Washington to do a remote outside of the Senator’s home or perhaps his office at the capital. I also asked them to alert me if there were any more proclamations involving the commissions’ findings regarding inappropriate behavior on behalf of this same Senator.

My editor wasn’t too pleased about having to foot the bill for travel down to the Washington but he agreed (after some coaxing) that I might have a closer, unique perspective to cover this potential story than the sister channels in the beltway.

I contacted my favorite camera guy and brought one other crew member to help with the gear transport and we were on the train within the hour heading south to the nation’s Capital. Thanks to our modern smartphone technology, I was able to keep in contact with the major news outlets as we were traveling to Washington that evening. It was revealed in that time frame that the Senator was currently unavailable for comment (surprise, surprise) and that his wife was not speaking to the press despite several attempts to reach her for comment.

The entertainment news coverage was sketchy as well. The starlet’s manager stated only that she was still preparing for upcoming role in a feature length move that was planned for shooting in the spring over in France. He admitted that she was in New York this past weekend but didn’t divulge any details as to where/who/what she was involved with while in town.

The starlet’s career was seeing somewhat of a revival in getting press coverage. She might be the only person involved in this mess that might actually be benefiting from the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours.

Little Misunderstanding - Part V

2009-12-27T20:21:00.001-08:00

The next few minutes were pretty intense by anyone’s account. It seems that there was activity all around me. The sniper fire was coming from several points on the horizon but didn’t seem to be accomplishing much other than keeping all of the security folks pinned down and the press scrambling for cover. The shots seemed random in their source and target.
Across town, the camera crew I had left there had captured a hasty exit by the starlet with her mystery man. They were in the process of uploading the film to the studio for editing and potential inclusion in the nightly news broadcast within the entertainment segment of the programming.
The crew had uploaded the film segment blindly without actually viewing what they captured themselves. If they had, they might have recognized that the man that was accompanying the starlet had the look and countenance of our senator.
The two of them had managed to reach the limo that the starlet had arranged for and was headed off to points unknown.
The sniper fire stopped back at the legislature as suddenly as it started. We all remained hidden behind post or pillar for a few more minutes before we had the assurance in our minds that it was safe to do so. The security folks pulled out all their radios and I could tell by the sounds of the approaching sirens that emergency responders would soon be arriving. I got the crew mobilized and we started a live feed to report on the shooting.
“This is a live feed from the state legislature building. We have just been the victims of some random shooting from what appears to be several snipers working in consort. It is unclear as to their motives and it’s also unknown as to how many injuries or casualties were incurred as a result of these actions.” I droned into the waiting cameras maw.
“More details will be forthcoming as we learn more of the results of these actions.” We sent that along while I then turned my attention back to the folks we left at the hotel. I had the sinking feeling that there was more to meet the eye with the goings on at that location.
Boswell said that it didn’t seem like there was much of a robbery in the lobby but that the crew thought that there was really something strange about the back door exit of the starlet and the mystery man. Not sure but it seemed that the limo that they got into on the outskirts of the hotel parking lot had federal government plates on it. This is part of the feedback they got from the footage that they captured and had already relayed back to the station.
Our affiliate back in Virginia / Washington DC area had sent a crew to the Senator’s townhouse looking to et some kind of statement from his wife who had, thus far, remained silent on these recent events. Of course we were all hoping that stance would change now.

Happy Holidays All!

2009-12-25T09:49:00.001-08:00

It’s that holiday time again!!

Holiday seasons are steeped with traditions within each family and hold a dear place in all our hearts.

I’ve found that the holiday season comes to mean different things to us as we rumble through the years.

As a youngster, the holidays are a time of receiving presents, pretty lights, receiving presents, a lot of laughter, receiving presents, family time, receiving presents, lots of candy and receiving presents.

As we get older and the presents go from toys to more practical things, the holidays slowly begin to take on a new meaning. It’s time to have fun, party, and take a break from our work day lives.

As we start our own families and have children of our own, we get to see the holidays anew through the eyes of our kids. In this period, the holidays take on a fresh look, new meaning, and a chance to form our own traditions.

As our children grow and move away from our homes, the holiday season becomes a time of renewal, an opportunity to reconnect with family and friends. Often times, it seems we start new traditions in this timeframe based on the new look and activities that we embrace during this time of year.

As we get older still, the traditions morph, unfortunately the number of family we have left to visit and exchange well wishes with becomes fewer. During this stage of life, the holiday season remains a time to reach out and count our blessings. Reflect on seasons/years past and again, change or develop new traditions. The time honored media shows and activities become more a chance to reconnect with our past. The stories and music seem to become even more precious and the family and friends that you do share these times with are ever more dear.

In short, it seems (to me) that as the years go by, the holidays become less about exchanging gifts and partying and more about reflection and letting those that are dear to you know that you are thinking about them. Letting them know how important your relationship with them is (to you) and to honor the loved ones that are no longer with us.

Happy holidays all!!!

Little Misunderstanding - Part IV

2009-12-23T09:43:00.001-08:00

Strangeness did ensue.

First thing that broke was that the scene back at the hotel began to heat up in a major way. The camera crew spotted the starlet leaving the hotel from the rear entrance accompanied by a man who looked like a disheveled homeless dude. The aspect of his appearance that looked severely out of place was the fact that he wore a pair of nicely polished.

In the front of the hotel where Boswell was walking down the street towards the entrance became suddenly awash with a lot of commotion. It seemed that the police presence was precipitated by a scuffle between hotel staff and some of the crew members from one of our rival TV networks. Since Boswell knew several of the combatants, his attention was focused (at least initially) with trying to ascertain the cause of the confrontation. He overheard the hotel staff loudly proclaiming that there was a theft of some sort.

The hotel staff was pleading their case with the city cops while the camera crew was attempting to get in contact with some management folks back at the news central studio. While the rest of our crew were calling out to Boswell (and fortunately for me, capturing all of the starlet’s exit with the mystery man on film) from the rear of the hotel, Bill finally figured out that the display in the lobby could very well have been a smoke screen to allow the starlet easy exit.

I learned all of the above about ½ hour after it had occurred. The reason for the delay was that the scene at the courthouse became every bit as intense as the events back at the hotel were.

The spokesperson for the commission was making another proclamation about our dear senator when a cry went out from the edge of the crowd and gun fire could be heard over the whine and shrieks of the crowd. It appeared that there was a sniper picking off individuals that were standing close to the stage. It appeared (at least from my vantage point) that the shots were striking the security staff around the stage and not aimed at the persons on the stage (the commission members or the spokesperson at the podium).

I shouted out to the crew who were now laying on the ground that we needed to get the cameras going. They ignored me and continued to lay on the ground which was pretty much what I was doing so I couldn’t really blame them. My mind was dealing with three things at that point:

1. How not to get killed?
2. How do I explain why we didn’t get any footage of the sniper or the commission announcements?
3. Does the sniper, the robbery at the hotel and the exit of the starlet with the mystery man at the rear of the hotel have any connection with one another?

Pretty much in that order…

Little Misunderstanding - Part III

2009-12-21T02:14:00.001-08:00

Well, that certainly sounded plausible but I was still a tad puzzled by both the revelation of this added wrinkle to the scandal that I was currently trying to cover along with the way the news was reaching my ears. Why was this hotel employee so keen on revealing this information and why was it coming at this point in time?
On the surface it appeared that this was an almost miraculously fortuitous set of coincidences. My spidey sense was tingling on this though and I wasn’t immediately willing to jump on this tangential stream of evidence in total deference to the original story that I had come to this locale to cover. Still it was just juicy enough that I didn’t want to ignore it completely.
I decided to try to hedge my bet. I took down the information that the staff member was all too willing to give up. I tipped him a twenty-dollar bill for his trouble and then turned that portion of the story over to my intern, Bill Boswell to shake down.
He circled around to the rear of the hotel and waited for this starlet to appear with a small camera crew in tow. I headed downtown to the state legislature’s building campus to cover further disclosure from the commission. I told Boswell if any of this panned out to call my cell and keep me posted.
Once I arrived at the press room of the main lobby of the Senate building, I encountered the usual swamp of press corps that were all jockeying around trying to joust for position around the flunky that they had sent out to greet the press around the commission’s findings.
Our senator was nowhere to be seen. My sources were covering the airports and train terminals to see if he were simply going to leave town and where he might be headed if that was indeed his intention. I also asked around the senator’s office staff to see if there was any change to his posted itinerary since this morning’s news story broke.
His office staff was relaying only that no changes to the posted itinerary were made. The senator was going to be returning home in the next day to spend the holiday with his family. The allegations were false and all was right with the world…
I hadn’t heard from Boswell in the last hour so I rang him up and asked if there was any spotting of the actress or any other happenings of note going on back at the hotel. He said that he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the starlet but that he though there might be something happening in the front of the hotel as there seemed to be some police cars arriving. I told him to check that out and get back to me if it looked like there was anything related to our story or the senator.
He said he would do just that and was instructing the camera crew to retain a vigil at the rear vantage point in the meantime. I concurred that this sounded like a good plan of attack.
It seemed that the only thing to do was to sit tight and see if any strangeness was going to ensue.

Little Misunderstanding - Part II

2009-12-19T18:22:00.001-08:00

The senator spoke quickly but calmly. “I’d first like to say that I’m very grateful for the friends and family that I have and that they have continued to stand by me in this time of trial. The accusations that are being thrown around are entirely, irrevocably false, hurtful and politically motivated. I’m sure that once the facts are completely examined that my innocence will be obvious to all.
It has saddened me to see how many organizations and new sources have blindly accepted these accusations as fact and reported as such. They are the ones who will be embarrassed when these actions are proven to be motivated by only the basest of human emotions.
I hope that all of you will continue to pay attention closely to the accusers in this affair and you will see that their motivation is obvious. Their intent is to drive a stake through the heart of all that I have strived to build in the name of good and for the benefit of my constituents.
I have nothing further to say on this matter at this time.
Thank you.”
He then took a path that (coupled with the security folk in close proximity) made a very quick path through the balance of my crew and past the crowd that had gathered in the street outside of the hotel.
A limousine cruised up as if on queue when he reached the street and he climbed in with no resistance from the crowd and was off to points unknown.
I spent the next twenty minutes in the lobby (much to the chagrin of the hotel staff) putting together some clips to act as synopsis and also some teaser clips for the lead-ins for both the six o’clock and eleven o’clock news shows.
We then packed up the gear and were making our departure when I was pulled aside by the one of the hotel security staff. He said “Hey, do you want some juicy gossip?”
“Only if I can substantiate it with some facts… Gossip is dangerous in my line of work.”
“The senator’s girl friend is still here. She’ll be coming down in a few minutes.”
“The senator’s girl friend…?” The senator, as we all knew, was married to the most prominent of families in New England. He had gained a tremendous amount of political clout by first gaining the support of the family’s patriarch and then by also marrying into money. That old blue blood type of money was the best in these very conservative political times.
“Okay, say I’m interested. Does this girlfriend have a name…?
“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’ve heard of Melissa Garrett.”
“Melissa Garrett the pop star?”
“The very one. She checked in last night which is why our good senator spent the night in this establishment. Why do you think he was in town this close to the holiday without the wife in tow?”

Little Misunderstanding - Part I

2009-12-17T09:13:00.000-08:00

“There appears to be a bit of a misunderstanding here...” said the hotel clerk. Surveying the chaos in the hotel lobby right then, I would have thought this a bit of an understated acknowledgement of the obvious.

The once opulent décor that consisted of plush couches and chairs sitting atop fine Indian rugs looked more like a setting up of the MIT Flea Market. There was electronic gear, some in hard shell cases, some laying atop hastily thrown tarpaulins. There were two dozen crew members that were continuing to add to the pile of gear in the center of the room and cameras already situated on tri pods that were already filming activities. This melee was added to by the growing number of onlookers and passersby that were growing on the fringe of the lobby and staring into the hotel from the street outside.

“So where were we?” he continues…. My, this guy is just chuck full of insightful questioning.

I said “We’re here with our crew to interview Senator McGhee. We understand that he’s preparing to make a statement regarding the findings of the Commission looking into his financial involvement with the war in the Middle East…”

“The Senator is not registered in this hotel. You have the wrong location.”

“I don’t think so… We filmed him scooting in here after the Commission went live with their report twenty-five minutes ago.”

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken.”

“Would you like me to show you the footage…?”

“All I can say is that you are disrupting our business and you’ll have to leave. If you aren’t packing up in five minutes, I’ll have to call the police.”

“Getting the authorities in here will only add to your headaches.” I was going to have to call his bluff. I was scooped by Channel 4 last week with the Anderson trial; I wasn’t going to lose the initiative today.

I was spared prolonging this stand off by the appearance of the Senator at the top of the stairs. He made his way down to the lobby level very slowly. Almost like a cowboy walking into the town square for the shoot out at high noon. I almost heard his spurs jingling as he took each lower step.

“Senator, would you care to comment on the commission’s report? We’re told that a subpoena is imminent. Have you anything to say to the voting public?”

The little hotel manager dude who was blocking our access quietly dissolved into the background once the Senator was spotted.

I checked quickly over my shoulder to see if the camera folks were in place and filming the encounter before proceeding… “Senator McGhee, the commission states that you received some pretty hefty kickback of tax dollars in the war effort. Were they mistaken in this assertion?”

The Senator smiled which I thought at least acknowledged the question.

As he approached the bottom of the stair case, some security folks converged on the area quickly clearing a small area around the foot of the stairs.

Our crew provided a microphone stand seemingly out of the air and passed it through the crowd to the senator then willingly approached the microphone stand and began to address the press and the crowd.

Well - Part XIX

2009-12-15T03:18:00.001-08:00

Christmas in the loony bin. I felt so bad for Cheryl having to spend the holidays in a hospital. I stopped by Christmas morning to see her. They had her on so much medication, she never knew I was there (I don’t believe). She was spending her holiday on Thorazine island. Which probably isn’t the worse place in the world to spend a holiday. I stayed about an hour and watched her sleep.

In that time, I pondered my current dilemma. I was beginning to get the impression that Cheryl’s condition might be a much longer term. I loved her dearly and was praying daily that there would be some turn of events there that would give me some hope that she might return to some semblance of her former self.

Jennifer and I were going to have to maintain some degree of a relationship for the rest of our lives. After all, we will always have the child as a connection. I didn’t really see any true loving relationship with her though. She didn’t seem to want any such relationship with me either. We were both going to do “the right thing” whatever the heck that means.

My goals were radically changing. I knew in sitting there beside Cheryl’s bed in the state sanitarium that what I was really sifting through my life for was some degree of focus and direction, heck aren’t we all?

The job I had garnered within food service was blissfully mindless. I could spend my hours in there pretty much going through the motions and performing my duties in some degree of efficiency. It unfortunately was a task borne of duty and necessity, I wanted more.

I put together a few short-term goals while holding Cheryl’s hand that morning. Maybe they could be called “new year’s resolutions”. I decided that I wanted to go back to school and try to figure a few things out. Not having any money was definitely going to limit this desire some but, I thought perhaps I could look into some financial aid and perhaps go to school nights or online.

I also decided that I wanted to travel some. I was bored to tears with the Northeast of the US and wanted to see (at least) the rest of the country and perhaps, at some point, go abroad.

Well - Part XXVIII

2009-12-13T05:20:00.001-08:00

I finally managed to get a job offer. It certainly wasn’t anything that I was crazy about but at this stage of the game, I needed gainful employment and any notion of pride or career was going to have to be put on the back burner.

The position was as a food service person in a local hospital. I assisted in the preparation of and delivery of meals to the patients who had the misfortune of being ill and in this institution. I was grateful for the job and the money. In perhaps a month or two, I could perhaps find a cheap apartment. In time, I hoped that I could perhaps even contribute to Jennifer’s medical expenses. I was about to become a dad.

I finally got a chance to visit Cheryl. It was so sad it broke my heart. She was technically and physically sound but the woman I loved (I think still…) was somewhere in a pretty stiff medicated haze. She barely acknowledged my presence in the room let alone acknowledging any recognition of who I was.

I brought some flowers and said that I would check back before Xmas. Her family thanked me and I took my leave.

My next stop during that weekend was to check in with Jennifer. Jennifer’s family were a bit of an enigma. Her parents divorced about seven years ago. Her dad was a successful business man who seemed to like to keep most people including his family at arm’s length. Her Mom was a lovely woman who was brought up in the strictest New England traditions. She was a devout Catholic who was certainly affected greatly by her divorce. She seemed to have a real hard time acclimated to life as a single woman. She had a tendency to continue to live in denial of that aspect of her life. She spoke, acted and expected her family including her husband to be at the dinner table during all meals.

Jennifer was a little worried about her Mom. I hadn’t had much exposure to her family and thought I should at least make an appearance during this holiday. I told Jen that I would accompany her for Christmas Eve at her Mom’s house.

I still hadn’t resolved in my head (and heart) what my involvement was going to be with Jennifer in the immediate future and beyond.

My first paychecks were spent almost entirely on back bills. It was going to have to be a pretty bare bones holiday season. I had to get some new clothes. I didn’t want to show up at Jennifer’s Mom’ house looking like a street urchin (or a food service worker).

That night went better than I had envisioned it going. We managed to avoid most of the truly awkward questions about any future for Jennifer and I. There was some talk about the baby and how “next Christmas” was going to be different with another “little one” in the house again.

Jen’s mom asked me about my family and what my plans for the rest of the holiday were. I told her that I was likely going to be eating Christmas dinner with my sister’s family (although, truthfully, I hadn’t even worked that out. I knew my sister wouldn’t turn me out but our relations were somewhat strained of late). The evening featured a very nice meal and I hoped I made a decent impression.

Time is tough

2009-12-11T22:48:00.000-08:00

As time goes on, we are left with less time.
It trickles away like the proverbial sands in the hour glass.
We can't really save time nor can we pass time or control time in any way.

It just goes.

Our relationship with time is as a surfer and the waves on the ocean.
All we can do is try to ride it out.

Snow Falls

2009-12-09T03:14:00.000-08:00

The snow is falling.
Rolling,
Tumbling,
Cold
and Wet.
It forms a blanket of white cement
The roads are under there…somewhere
The snow is falling.

Well - Part XXVII

2009-12-07T05:35:00.001-08:00

Over the next couple of weeks, my daily routine was:

1. Arise, shower, shave, and prepare for the day.
2. Go to coffee shop, scan papers, make calls to prospective employers and send resumes.
3. Go home, take nap, await call that doesn’t come
4. Eat something.
5. Sleep more
6. Awake depressed, rinse and repeat

The interviews I did garner were lackluster to say the least. The opportunities didn’t interest me very much and I’m sure that came across in the interviews. I didn’t get any call backs and only one “second interview” (by phone) in that time frame.

I started to collect some unemployment checks and that was different hassle that I won’t go into much here but the money sure helped.

I maintained contact with both Cheryl and Jennifer during this time but, neither of them knew of my relationship with another. I felt more horrible about this as time went on. Jen was still being wonderful as far as letting me be as involved as I wanted to be. I wanted to help pay for the medical expenses that she was going to incur but the prerequisite for that was getting gainful employment.

Cheryl was recovering (according to her doctors). I still hadn’t seen her yet since the suicide attempt. I was told through her dad mostly that she was being kept pretty drugged up. I still longed to at least try and reconnect (again) although I had no idea where this relationship could really go. I guess I realized to a large extent this was going to have to hinge on her mental state improving.

The town had a ceremony honoring Cheryl’s brother and a special service on Veteran’s day a few weeks later. I attended out of respect and exchanged polite well wishes with the rest of her family attending the services. Cheryl, of course, was still sequestered in the hospital. Everyone tip toed around the subject of her brother’s death when in the company of Cheryl. So much so that I wasn’t sure how she was ever going to come to grips with the tragedy.

The approaching holidays were going to cause me to make some pretty interesting decisions. Jennifer asked what I was doing as did my sister and Cheryl’s dad. The decision was mine. I just didn’t know if I was going to cull a direction out of this decision or even if I had to.

Well - Part XXVI

2009-12-05T03:08:00.001-08:00

Sooner or later, every depression or pocket of trouble reaches a point where you are just sick of being depressed and commit yourself to some happiness (someway or anyhow..)

I hit that point the following Monday morning. I decided that it was probably a blessing that I was laid off of a job that was undoubtedly a “dead end” providing me with no real future. The timing wasn’t impeccable but these things never are.

I left the apartment that morning and decided to peruse the morning papers in a comfortable neighborhood coffee shop. I purchased the NY Times and the Post and started scanning the want ads. I also left notice back to my sister to save me some area papers in that city as well. I hadn’t quite decided where I was going to land here but wanted to take all avenues into consideration.

I checked in with Cheryl’s family and her condition appeared to be getting better. It seems that she will be spending some time under observation but she was responding well to the anti-depressants that they had prescribed to her. I told her Dad that I would definitely be back in the area the next weekend and would stop by.

Jennifer has been pretty great considering. We had a couple of conversations now and she basically is willing to let me be as involved in the parenting experience as I want to be. She wasn’t looking for any money right now (which was really good as I was pretty much in Dutch with all my creditors and the bank accounts were dwindling fast.

I have a lot of mixed emotions as to what I want out of the near term. My priorities seemed to be pretty clear. I needed to nail down some gainful employment. I needed to come clean with both Jennifer and (more importantly) with Cheryl.

Cheryl’s condition makes that a skittish situation to say the least. I was fearful given the small town environment, that word was going to get to her at some point through some other means. I didn’t want to wait too long but this was definitely going to be a tough subject to broach with her.

I talked over my monetary situation with my landlord and decided the easiest thing to do was to use the balance of my meager savings to break the lease. I couldn’t afford the apartment without a job. I had enough left to buy a storage facility in Danbury and began to plan migrating my belonging to storage until I could get my feet under me again. My sister agreed to let me bunk there for some time beginning the next month.

All that was left was to say goodbye to the few city friends I had. There were several powerful forces that were conspiring to place me back in my hometown area. I was of the mindset to accept this. There were more reasons to go home then there were to stay in the city.

Well - Part XXV

2009-12-03T03:19:00.000-08:00

Irony.

What a ridiculous mess I’ve made of my life with my actions. It felt, for a time, that I was finally getting my life in order. I had connected with someone. Really connected with someone. I cared for her and her for me. To top that off, this was almost a dream come true as the object of my affection was the first girl I ever remember being attracted to in high school.

I was infatuated with her for years and as my high school years began to fade in my memory, she reappeared in my life and we really did hit it off. I had met her family and had really become a part of her life. She was everything that I thought I was looking for in a woman.

Then… or actually just before then…

I did something that was totally out of character for me. I was in need for some companionship and had fallen into the arms of an angel of mercy for that one night. It was never intended to be anything more than two folks helping each other through a difficult night. I was supposed to be seeing my old high school sweetheart but, instead, I wound up with a sweet girl who took pity on me for that evening. Now, that evening is looking like it will change (did change) both of our lives forever.

I had no argument with Jennifer on wanting to have the baby. I had no idea (we just didn’t get a chance to talk through much of it) what that meant fully. We committed to speak again the next day. We decided to meet for lunch at the mall. A nice casual, non-threatening stage to discuss further what our immediate future plans might/should be.

In the meantime, the love of my life, was attempting to recover from a severe emotional blow with the death of her sibling. She was so disturbed, it appears, that she attempted suicide. Where does that leave me…?

This is beginning to sound like some obscenely protracted soap opera. “As the stomach turns…” Geez.

Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, I got the phone call that I was being laid off from my job. I thought I was on rock bottom and someone just shifted some of the rocks.

Well - Part XXIV

2009-12-01T15:26:00.001-08:00

I finally had to break the mood. “So, Jennifer, how have you been…?”

“Pregnant.”

“Uh huh, I see that… why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t have a number.”

“Right.” This was not going to be an easy conversation. I wasn’t even going to ask her if the baby was mine. I’m assuming that would be in really bad form.

“We should talk.” I finally stammered out.

“I’m going on break in about a half hour, you think you can hang around that long…?”

Oh geez, she’s pissed. “Yeah, sure… I’ll be right here.

When we were finally able to get some time to talk, Jennifer had calmed down.

“I’m only upset at myself. At first I couldn’t believe my dumb luck. As time past though, I’ve kind of resolved myself to the task. Things happen for a reason and I think we were supposed to bring this life into the world.”

Hmmm. Not exactly the viewpoint that I was expecting. I was still trying to wrap my head around this turn of events. I was thinking about Jennifer, Cheryl, fatherhood, my future was never more littered with options, problems, and potential for screwing up.

We talked for perhaps a half hour. It seems she had already made up her mind on what she was going to do. I committed to helping (although I didn’t quite know how much help I could be). We didn’t really broach the subject of any kind of ongoing relationship.

I absolutely dreaded the thought of trying to explain any of this to Cheryl.

I came to the Blind Squirrel looking for some solace from the problems that I thought were paramount in my life. I left there with a whole set of new problems and conflicts. None of them appeared to have any kind of viable resolution that could be had without breaking the hearts of someone I cared about.

Well - Part XXIII

2009-11-29T05:59:00.000-08:00

I knew Cheryl was distraught but, I was stunned that she would have been so far gone as to attempt to take her own life. This had to be some kind of accident. Didn’t it?

I pretty much had to take my queues in this from her family. I didn’t have much of a point of reference here. Her family was now a complete emotional mess. They had just buried her brother and now Cheryl, who appeared to be the rock everyone was leaning on through the first loss, had seemingly succumbed to the stress of the recent events.

I learned, after about an hour of waiting, that she was going to be all right (physically). The medical doctors were now taking a back seat to the psychiatrist and social workers that have become part of this “case.” I was wrestling with my own guilt feelings that perhaps I should have seen signs or been more supportive or something.

Her parents were very appreciative of my presence but they had a lot of stuff going on now too. I was going to have to work out whatever I was feeling with on my own.

Despite hanging around for over two and half hours, I never did get in to see her that evening. Her parents eventually were allowed to go in but she was under heavy sedation and all they were really able to do was to hold her hand and sit with her quietly.

I headed back out into the autumn night air and was feeling pretty much like I didn’t want to be alone that evening. I drove around the city for awhile before lighting onto the idea of hitting my old favorite watering hole, the Blind Squirrel.

The place appeared as it always seemed to appear in my mind’s eye but when I went inside, I was almost immediately taken by a change that was all too obvious… and also troubling (to say the least).

My old friend Jennifer was tending bar that evening (which wasn’t surprising) but, what startled me was that her appearance betrayed that she was “with child.” The possibility that she was pregnant with my baby was not lost on me. I did some mental arithmetic and decided it had been about three months since our little one-night tête-à-tête. I was half tempted to turn on my heels and leave but the shock of this revelation left me unable to move either towards the bar or away from it.

With no other recourse but to confront the situation, I walked towards the bar and took a stool in the corner. Jennifer hadn’t seen me yet and I was trying to think of something witty to say, something that might diffuse the situation a little but, when she approached me and the realization wiped across her face, the only thing that came out of my mouth was “could I get a shot of Glenlivet and a Saranac Pale Ale chaser please?”

When she returned to my perch at the bar with my order, there was an incredible amount of uncomfortable silence that hung in the air between us.

Well - Part XXII

2009-11-27T04:25:00.001-08:00

The next few days were rough to say the least. The powerful combination of hearing about the positive news of the war and the personally tragic events that took Cheryl’s brother’s life caused a powerful combination of emotions within Cheryl’s family.

Her father was angry and made no air to conceal that fact. The circumstances around his son’s death were going to get investigated; he was going to sue every congressman and the president himself to get restitution for the loss of his son’s life. Knowing that his death was accidental and caused by a member of his own unit’s added to this anger and confusion.

There are never any “right words” for these awful situations. No words that would have any magic healing effects can be conjured up. The only thing anyone can do in this kind of circumstances is to be there, be supportive and to listen. This is exactly all I did for the next four days. I actually commuted back and forth from the city to Danbury during the next few working days to be around and to comfort Cheryl.

The memorial service was a typical military honorarium. The family received the folded flag that would be placed on some mantle somewhere. Following the service was the usual gathering of friends and family in a communal meal before all of the attendees were to depart back to their separate lives.

In the weeks that followed the funeral, Cheryl seemed depressed to the point of distraction. I didn’t get the feeling that they were as close as it appears they must have been given her reaction to his death.

I wanted very much to help her and her family but couldn’t find any meaningful way of accomplishing this. About a month later, I got a call from her Dad telling me that Cheryl was in the hospital and that I should probably come up as soon as I could. I was absolutely beside myself with fear at this news. I tried to get some news as to what was going on from her dad but, I got very few details other than that she seemed stable at the moment.

When I arrived at the hospital, some of my questions were answered almost immediately. When I asked at the nurse’s station where her room was, I was told that I couldn’t go in there right now as the psychiatrist was still in there with her and would need at least another half hour before visitors were going to be allowed back in to see her.

Well - Part XXI

2009-11-25T06:37:00.001-08:00

I arrived in Danbury around 3:30 in the afternoon. I knew Cheryl’s classes wrapped up around that time but it would likely be another hour before she would be returning to her apartment.

My plan (if I truly had one) was to buy some flowers and be waiting in the parking lot of her condominium complex when she returned home. I stopped off at a florist and selected a dozen roses and had them wrapped and sitting on the passenger seat of my car when I pulled into her complex. I figured that I was at least a half hour early but, I wanted to be in position and leave no chance of missing the full effect of my element of surprise.

As fate would have it though, it was I who was surprised.

When I pulled into the area around her building, I noticed that her car was already there. That was odd, I wondered inwardly if she had taken ill and had left early for the day. I figured that I had missed my surprise in the parking lot but, accepted that, scooped up my bouquet of flowers and entered her building almost skipping through the lobby to the elevator.

When I knocked at her door, I was surprised that an older man answered it and stood in the hallway looking quizzically at me standing there flat footed with my flowers in hand.

The man was Cheryl’s dad (I had never met him before) as this was being explained to me, I also met two of Cheryl’s cousins, her great aunt and two uncles. It was then that I heard the news about Cheryl’s brother being killed.

I almost wanted to hide the flowers but, that awkwardness passed. The room was full of nothing by sorrow and despair (her great aunt seemed to want to do nothing more than wail on the couch over and over).

I immediately felt like a cad with my flowers and thoughts of carnal pursuits. Cheryl introduced me as “her boyfriend” (I was an official boyfriend) and an ex-classmate at Danbury High. Her family acknowledged me but obviously had a lot on their minds. I decided quite quickly that it probably would be best if I let them be and I had every intention of doing just that if not for the imploring gaze I received from Cheryl when I mentioned that I vocalized just that.

“Please Jim, stay with me for awhile. I don’t want to be alone.” I didn’t have the heart to point out that she was anything but alone be surrounded by that much family in a relatively small condominium. I was also privately thrilled that she asked me to stay.

I had never known Cheryl’s brother. He was a couple of grades behind us in High School and I rarely traveled outside of my small circle of friends anyway. I felt horrible for Cheryl. The fact that they already knew that he died from “friendly fire” added even more tragedy to this event.

As the evening passed, more family showed up. It seemed Cheryl had what became to be the family headquarters for this tragedy. Just before mid-night, the last of the family left and I offered to Cheryl that we step out for some coffee and a distraction.

Well - Part XX

2009-11-23T07:50:00.001-08:00

I’m a little slow on the uptake sometimes. It took me nearly a dozen years after graduation to actually approach a woman who I had known nearly all my life and even then, a half dozen dates later, we actually kissed. That night, there was no more waiting.

We spent the night together (I never did call my sister) and in the morning, after awakening and another bout of lovemaking, I never wanted to leave her bedroom. The morning eventually wore on and we reluctantly broke our embrace and rose to face the day.

Cheryl prepared a great breakfast, we chatted some more and then she brought me over to the train station. I didn’t want to leave but our lives were calling. She had schoolwork to grade and I had to get back to the city to prepare for the coming week.

As we moved through these tasks, I felt like I was walking on air. The previous weeks were so wonderfully “out of place” in my normally mundane doldrums of an existence. Life felt like it was done handing me lemons and it was time for some good fortune.

We proceeded with daily calls both in the morning and in the evening. She remained on my mind throughout my days and I literally ached for her embrace during the times we were apart.

That week, I cut a deal with my employer to work late a few nights in exchange for a half day off on Friday. I wanted to surprise Cheryl by coming up early on Friday night. Unlike the previous times that I had planned for the trip north, I didn’t call my sister. I had no intentions of seeing anyone but Cheryl.

When I spoke with her on Thursday night I was bursting at the seams to tell Cheryl that I was coming up the following afternoon but I held off. We talked about what was going on in each other’s jobs, we talked about things that were in the news, new movies coming out and books that we ewre reading or planning on reading. Cheryl being a teacher always was on the look out for new material that she could use within her classroom.

That night our nation’s troops drove the last of the Russian regiment back out of Alaska (and across the Bering Strait). The UN General Council was calling for a cessation of fighting between the two countries and it appeared a cease-fire was eminent.

It was also that night that Cheryl’s brother was killed by friendly fire.

Well - Part XIX

2009-11-21T02:20:00.001-08:00

The kiss had the effect of killing my story in mid sentence. It also awoke within me a floodgate of feelings. Maybe I was actually suppressing my desire for this woman who was still “protected” by my notion of her being unattainable from our high school years.

It wasn’t a really passionate kiss but it seemed to signal a change in our relationship. I toyed with the notion of changing our destination from the Green Bo Restaurant to my apartment but, squelched that notion internally.

We had a nice meal. We ordered (at my behest) yellow fish with dried seaweed and rice cakes. I continued throughout the meal to try and read in Cheryl’s eyes any clue as to what her expectations were for the remainder of our day together. The original plan was to have her back on the road by 7:00pm to head north out of the city.

I did a mental tour of my apartment and decided that I didn’t really want us to head over there anyway. I decided that perhaps I drive up with her, stay with sister and have them take to a train in Brewster for the trip back to the city. I casually (or as casually as I could muster) brought up this notion and was very encouraged with Cheryl’s positive reaction.

We decided to head back to where her car was parked and go directly north earlier than we had planned. I said that I could call my sister once we got up to Danbury.

The ride north was a blur in my memory. I know that there was a number of conflicting emotions and fears that ruled my thoughts during the two-hour drive. I tried to relax thinking that it was best not to push or have any kind of expectation at all but, that was a foolish notion. I had already envisioned a number of move scene scenarios that had us falling into bed having passionate sex for hours (in various rooms throughout her apartment). I had to keep reminding myself that this was crazy and wanted to continue with our current slow pace for fear of ruining the really comfortable relationship we had.

If this was going to happen, it would happen as an extension of the closeness we had garnered over the previous weeks. I didn’t want to try and force anything despite the fact that since the kiss, I was lusting after this woman more so than I ever lusted after anyone in my life.

When we arrived, Cheryl asked if I wanted any coffee. I really didn’t but it seemed to be a good move to answer in the positive. While she moved into the kitchen area to prepare the brew, I called my sister to inquire about the change in plans. Unfortunately no one was home at her house (which didn’t upset me all that much) so I left a message and hung up.

We settled into the couch with the evening news on the tube. We comically clinked our coffee mugs before setting them down onto the coffee table. We hadn’t touched since our kiss (that Cheryl had instigated) in the cab earlier in the day.

“Cheryl, would you mind terribly if I kissed you right now…?”

“Jim, I’d mind terribly if you didn’t…”

A confession...

2009-11-19T03:52:00.001-08:00

Bless me Father for I have sinned. It’s been approximately 30 years since my last confession.

I have endeavored to live a just life but I’ve not always been faithful to the laws of men or God.

I felt that God and I had a mutual understanding… a sort of “you do your thing, I’ll do mine.” Oh sure, I’ve had those instances where a quick prayer was almost an instinctual reaction but, for the most part, I’ve tried not to do any harm to anyone else

…and to perhaps attempt good when I could.

I have lusted after sins of the flesh. I have sought out material possessions and have not been as charitable as I could have been in my most productive and financially fruitful years.

I don’t know as if I did a stellar job honoring my mother and father.

I’ve pretty much thought of the Sabbath day as an extension of the weekend, a good day for cookouts and football.

Oh, and I’ve taken the name of God in vain a few hundred thousand times…

The other commandments are pretty safe from me though.

Well - Part XVIII

2009-11-17T17:02:00.001-08:00

The ensuing several weeks passed with a brevity that indicated an air of familiarity and contentment. This was an amazing turn of events at least to me. I saw Cheryl three times in the next two weeks. Twice on weekends (once in the city and once in Danbury) and once, surprisingly, out on Long Island at the Nassau Coliseum. We saw one play, a movie and a concert by Lou Reed.

Each meeting was a joy (from my perspective) that rivaled anything that had transpired within my life over the previous ten years. I was certainly feeling blessed during these following two weeks.

As is often the case, when something like this is transpiring, all things seemingly unrelated seem to be going equally as well. My job seemed to be less of a chore, the other mundane items that everyone wrestles with were moving along with less than the usual amount of participation / frustration on my part.

Cheryl too seemed to relish the experiences. She often mentioned that the times between our meetings were “ok” and “nothing much happened” but, she was very animated when we were together often going into long diatribes on a variety of subjects. We would debate the events of the day. Talk about how much we liked this artist or that musician. Banter about the relative merits of the NY Daily News versus the NY Times.

We had yet to even kiss. It seems we were comfortable in all other aspects of our relationship but we assiduously avoided any overtures towards physical intimacy. For my part I was perfectly content with this. I simply enjoyed connecting with a friend whom I hadn’t even knew I had. We had many similar interests and views. The lack of any kind of romantic element only seemed weird if I thought about it. It was the only subject I was reluctant to bring up in our conversations.

On our fourth “date” we chose to head down to the South Street Seaport in the city. Cheryl seemed to be gathering a comfort level with coming down and spending time in the city. We were just going to do some shopping. The holidays were coming so this seemed like this had some practical aspects to it. I had plans to steer us up into Chinatown later in the afternoon for an early dinner.
After we had gathered a number of packages each, it seemed prudent to take a cab rather than walk through Chinatown with the bags and one bulky box that contained a coffee grinder that I had latched onto as a gift for my sister from one of the specialty stores. During the cab ride uptown, we had placed the packages on the far end of the cab and were seated closely together on the bench seat. I was regaling Cheryl with a story regarding my office mates when she leaned into me and kissed me.

Well - Part XVII

2009-11-15T11:21:00.001-08:00

Life is best looked at as a continual series of improvisations. I think the folks that view themselves as “planners” are kidding themselves. The best-laid plans of mice and men… geez, I’m full of clichés today.

My night with Cheryl turned out to be wildly successful. Our conversation quickly became casual. There seemed to be little in the way of the usual first date posturing or awkwardness. The ease in which we were recounting past times that made up the interim between our high school days and the current time frame was almost unbelievable.

I couldn’t recall any times I’d spent with any other person that seemed to leave me with both a joy and a feeling of renewal. I felt driving home that evening that all things were possible and that life was truly something to be savored and most definitely enjoyed. Gone was the frustration and feeling of being put off by my job and society. Gone was the feeling that I was powerless to make any material shift in my own destiny. I knew innately that she felt the same. We parted in the parking lot of the original meeting place with a casual “I’ll call you later” and I knew that we both would follow up on those promises.

When I arrived home that night I was jazzed. I knew I couldn’t sleep but didn’t really want to brave the outside world. I compromised with a midnight snack of Kraft’s macaroni and cheese washed down by a few bottles of beer.

In the morning I had to bite down hard on the notion of calling Cheryl first thing in the morning. I waited all the way until 10:00 am.

“Hey Cheryl, it’s me.”

“I was hoping you’d call.” I was now doing handstands in my living room. Boyhood crush being acted on, dreams are possible, when you wish upon a star… Okay that’s maybe going a bit too far.

“So, what are you planning for this Sunday?” I asked.

“ Not much, just some housework, maybe grade some papers and try to get ahead of the week-ahead’s chores.”

“I see. Yeah, me too…nothing special. I might watch a little football.”

“Oh, I heard from Greg (Cheryl’s brother).”

“Oh, he’s doing okay?”

“Yeah, it seems the crisis is sort of ‘on hold’. It’s devolved into a large scale stare-down. They are all wondering who is going to blink first. He couldn’t tell me much other than to ‘not worry’ and all…”

“Well, that should be a big load off your mind…”

“It is. I was going just a little nuts. He’s the last family I have on the planet.”

“I understand. I’m really happy for you on that front.”

“Yep…”

“I was wondering if you were free Wednesday to maybe make a sojourn down to the city… I can get tickets to see “Wicked” on broadway. I knew I could because my co-worker Stan has an in with the theater there and he’s constantly flaunting it.

“That would be great. Except it’s a school night.”

“I understand. How about the weekend?”

“Friday is free right now.”

“I’ll have to inquire but, hopefully that’ll work with the Wicket show.”

“If not that, maybe something else.” Cartwheels again. She doesn’t even care what we are doing. I’ve made an impression.

“Okay great, we’ll figure something out. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, fine… see ya.”

Well - Part XVI

2009-11-13T03:28:00.001-08:00

Well the pre-arranged time finally arrived and I arrived at the restaurant 10 minutes early. I hadn’t really anticipated Cheryl being there but she was.

She looked great too.

Her shoulder length blond hair hung straight down and with the bangs framed her face giving her very much that “girl next door” home spun look. She wore a solid blue color peasant dress with a shawl. The combination made her appear a tad older than she was however the unassuming appearance seemed to work for her. As I entered the restaurant, she was seated in the waiting area near the hostess stand. I was please to see her face light up a bit when she noticed my entrance.

We had a very nice meal. Much to my surprise, there were very few moments when the conversation lagged and no really awkward silent moments during diner. If I hadn’t known otherwise, it felt like we were old friends that had just seen each other days ago rather than ex-classmates that hadn’t ever broken bread together and really hadn’t spoken much in the last dozen or so years.

As the meal was approaching its logical end, I was pressing my mind for a good “next step.” We hadn’t really discussed much other than the meal but, I was hoping the evening wasn’t going to end after the check came.

“So, what do you want to do now…?” Might as well hit the subject head on. I had built up some confidence in the previous hour’s casual feel to our conversation.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m not to familiar with what’s around here.”

Good point I thought. Definitely a slight disadvantage when we chose a neutral meeting location. Neither of us were too familiar with the area.

“Well, how about we just drive around some and see if something of interest.” Geez, that was a lame come-on line. I prayed she forgave me my lack of good words.

“Okay. We can check out the malls and see if there are any movies that look good.” She said.

“Yeah, okay…sounds good.”

We left the restaurant and got into my clunker of a vehicle. I hoped she wasn’t going to hold my lack of a decent “ride” against me either. I’m so pathetic. I should just offer to bring her back to her car and call it a night, cut my losses. Hey, once you get caught up in something like this though, you might as well just see it through…

We drove out to the mall and walked around the mall. It was amazing to me that it didn’t feel at all awkward being with Cheryl in this situation. Every other time I spent with potential girl friends even on second, third or fourth dates, we never hit a feeling of casual ease as quickly as it seemed (at least to me) I had with Cheryl.

We did check out the movie listings. I was completely going to allow her to dictate any direction on that front. She, however, didn’t seem to charged up about any of the offerings at this theater. Instead, we opted to continue walking around the mall and talking about any number of other topics. We reminisced about our mutual by-gone days but, more improbably we seemed to focus on where we were within our own lives and even started to discuss individual dreams and aspirations for the future.

I carefully avoided any mention of current events as the news from the warfront was going to be a dicey topic given the fact that I knew Cheryl hadn’t heard any news of the current whereabouts or fate of her brother.

Well - Part XV

2009-11-11T02:26:00.001-08:00

“Hi Jim… are you back in town for awhile?”

“No… I’m just visiting…” Again, I probably should have rehearsed or at least thought through some of what I wanted to say. “So, how was your week…?”

“Quiet…pretty much same old same old… You?” She asked.

“The same. Hey I just wanted to thank you for last Saturday. I had a really good time…”

“Oh yes, me too. Umm I don’t want you to think that I do that a lot…”

“Me neither… Actually that was pretty much the only time that anything like that happened for me…” This isn’t even sounding convincing to me… I loathe myself at this point.

“Well, I’ve gotta be getting back to work here… See you around…”

Her comment and posture as she spun on her heels had the semblance of finality.

“Yes… Have a good night, I’m going to be moving along…”

“See ya…”

With my conscience somewhat cleared, I drove out of the parking lot and headed south to White Plains. I checked into a relatively cheap hotel and slipped into a dreamless sleep.

In the morning, I took a walk around the area of my hotel looking for a suitable place for breakfast and perhaps a scan of the Sunday Times. One of my favorite pastimes is to have a leisurely breakfast over the Sunday paper.

I hadn’t really finalized a plan for the evening with Cheryl after the meeting at the steakhouse that was pre-arranged and agreed to. As I went through the paper, I checked out the listings for the local clubs and the movie listings. I decided if the subject came up, I could suggest one of the offerings at the local Cineplex.

I decided to save money and wound up having breakfast at a fast food place about two blocks from the hotel. When I got back to the hotel, I ironed a fresh shirt and showered.
I called Cheryl just to confirm that we were still on and then checked out of the hotel prepared for my date with my first love.

I was still somewhat in awe that we had reconnected after all these years and was very hopeful that this might actually lead to a longer term relationship. I had to at least give this a whirl otherwise I’d always wonder “What if?”

Well - Part XIV

2009-11-09T08:34:00.001-08:00

Well, the rest of the week passed rather uneventfully. I continued to run through my mind the possibility of returning to Danbury the following weekend with the express purpose of hooking back up with Jennifer and “clearing the air” as it pertains to our fling last Saturday night.

I think it is human nature to want to avoid conflict. Therefore I really wanted to just shove the notion of needing to reconnect with Jennifer to assuage guilt feelings aside. The problem was, I couldn’t. My darn guilt feelings kept harkening back to that “morning after” and her being upset that I snuck out (even though it was just to bring back breakfast) and the cuddling we did with the bagels and coffee upon my return.

I thought she was a very nice young woman (with the emphasis on young) but that we truly didn’t have a lot in common. That internal dialog continued through the week and as we entered into Friday of that week, I hit upon the idea of a phone call. The problem there was that I didn’t even get her phone number.

Not able to dispel the notion of needing to talk with Jennifer, I decided that I would drive up to Danbury Friday night, go and see her at work and then head back to our “halfway” meeting place to see Cheryl for Saturday night. I made up my mind that I would just get a hotel rather than face the wrath of my sister. So with all of my plans firmed up I breezed through my work day and even cut out a tad early in order to beat the traffic heading north for the weekend.

The ride up was relatively uneventful and almost too soon, I was standing in the parking lot of the Blind Squirrel staring at the entranceway and wondering if this was all, truly, a good idea. Deciding that I had to see this through, I walked into the bar and glanced around but didn’t see Jennifer (or any bartender) at that point. I took a seat in the corner and decided to wait a bit.

Within five minutes, a male bartender came out from the back and briefly scanned the room. Seeing myself as a newcomer, he proceeded over and took my drink order. I asked him if Jennifer was working this evening. He said she was but she wasn’t coming on duty until 8:00 pm. Looks like I had a about an hour to kill. I resolved to drink slowly.

True to his word, Jennifer arrived in about 45 minutes, she breezed through the bar area and didn’t even see me sitting in the lounge area. She moved to the back room and apparently dispensed with her coat and purse and returned to the bar area within a few minutes. It was then I had that horrible feeling akin to calling someone on the phone without rehearsing what you were really going to say. The only saving grace in this instance is that she still hadn’t taken any notice of me. I even casually considered slipping out without confronting her at all.

When she apparently was “officially” on duty, I approached the bar and caught her eye.
“Hey Jen, how are you?”

The expression on her face seemed to indicate both surprise and embarrassment. Perhaps, she too, was feeling a little awkward about last weekend’s “hookup.”

Well - Part XIII

2009-11-07T07:06:00.001-08:00

Cheryl told me then that she was still really upset about the uncertainty of the fate of her brother but was also very apologetic about not being able to get together when I was up in town this past weekend. I told her that I too, was disappointed but certainly understood given the circumstances.

She explained that she still hadn’t heard anything (regarding her brother) and that this was a constant worry for her. There wasn’t much to say on that topic for me. I assured her that if she needed to talk, she could call me anytime (and I sincerely hoped she would).

We tentatively set a date for next weekend to meet at a location half-way between the city and Danbury (neutral territory). I was very pleased with that turn of events. Unfortunately, the conversation then got onto “What did you wind up doing that night when you were in town after she cancelled the date?”

I didn’t have a lot of time to consider a response. The flood of events started streaming in my mind; the bar, the conversations with Jennifer and then of course the overnight with her. A feeling of dread an embarrassment came over me and I prayed that that sentiment wasn’t somehow going to be conveyed with my subsequent response.

“Oh, not much (I hated to lie to her at this very early stage of what I hoped would become a longer term relationship… but that is exactly what I then heard myself do) I went out and got something to eat and then just returned to my sister’s house. We caught up on family news and the like.”

The conversation petered out and I proceeded down to the platform and my commute back to the apartment.

While riding in the train, my thoughts strayed to Jennifer. I’m sure she recognized that our fling that evening was really just a good time and no emotional attachment but, her desire to “cuddle” the following the morning might have belied this notion.

I have a real problem with dealing with guilt feelings and I had an inkling that these particular guilt feelings involving Jennifer were really something I was going to have to resolve if I had any hopes of moving on with Cheryl. I considered calling Cheryl back and asking if we could move the date back to Danbury so that I could potentially try to reconnect with Jennifer just to bring closure to that relationship. I decided to do just that even though that meant that I was going to have to call my sister back and arrange for crashing there again. I was hoping that would result in a few more questions. I don’t think she was too keen on my behavior during last weekend’s visit.

Well - Part XII

2009-11-05T03:23:00.001-08:00

I stayed with Jennifer that morning until she had to get ready to go back into work. I had to get my act together and head on back towards the city. I called my sister and got my lecture (I think she’s taken over for Mom now in being one of my primary sources of guilt). I returned to my sister’s house to pick up my things and then headed south to “hearth and home.”

My thoughts almost immediately strayed to Cheryl as I drove down the major interstate south. I was very disappointed that circumstances ran afoul of my opportunity to perhaps have my first real date with perhaps my first real love. I also was a tad embarrassed that I had sought out and actually consummated a “one night stand” with Jennifer. I wasn’t particularly proud of those actions but I couldn’t deny that it was something I surely was seeking that lonely night.

Last time I attempted to take a dip in the dating pool…back in the Pleistocene era, things seemed to be simpler. Now, there are more dangers. STDs can actually be fatal in this day and age. Beyond that there is so much technology involved in the dating scene. You can meet via the Internet, in a chat room, through some paid service that will assess compatibility characteristics. Meeting in a bar was almost passé anymore. Developing any kind of “opening line” strategy has now become embedded into programs and documented into any number of self-help books that could possibly fill several library shelves.

I think I have become the dinosaur here.

What ever happened to the enthusiastic, idealistic romantic that I was back in my high school days? Maybe the answer was that people never really do change and I wasn’t really as idealistic or a romantic as my memory seemed to suggest.

When I got back to my apartment on that Sunday night I took some time to actually clean up. Housework wasn’t something that I paid much attention to but it seemed like the thing to do in this instance. I might have been wanting for a distraction to take my mind off the being alone again in the city with nothing much going for me.

The workweek began with the usual pomp and circumstance. I went through “my morning routine” with all the relish of prisoner on death row taking the last mile walk. The workday was filled with no real challenges therefore no real problems and no real satisfaction that I had actually accomplished much when I punched out and was walking back to my subway stop. Before I actually started down the stairs to the platform for the ride back to my neighborhood, my cell phone rang.

The number wasn’t coming up with any hits in my contact list so I didn’t really know who was calling. I clicked the phone open and said: “Hello” in a resigned tone of voice. I wasn’t sure who would be on the other end so I was more than a tad surprised when I heard Cheryl’s voice.

"Hey Jim, how's it going?"

Well - Part XI

2009-11-03T03:15:00.001-08:00

Well, following the news about the declaration of war, there was a somber tone in the bar. That same tone would continue throughout the balance of the day. About an hour before my date with Cheryl, I got a phone call on my cell.

“Hi.”

Cheryl called and told me that she wasn’t really feeling like going out that evening. I asked why and she explained that her brother was stationed in Juno and she was awaiting news as to his whereabouts (and obviously his well-being).

I understood but was still pretty disappointed. We agreed to a raincheck on the date and signed off the call. Since I now had the night free, I decided to go back to the “Blind Squirrel.” It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Once I got there the mood in the bar was a bit more jovial than that afternnon after the announcement about what was going on in Alaska. There were a few “good old boys” that were enjoying some billiards in the back room. There was a lively little dart game going on in the back, I found an empty bar stool and planted myself on it. After a short time, a pretty little barmaid approached me and asked for my drink order.

“I’ll have a Sam Adams.”

She brought the beer and then curtly spun on her heels and moved onto other matters of course.

Two or three more beers later, most of the folks had called it a night within the bar area and I struck up a conversation with the barmaid, Jennifer. Seems she had been tending bar in this establishment only a few weeks. I told her that I used to live here and regaled some tales of glories past.

I managed to get her to laugh at a few of my stories which only encouraged me to stay and drink more. All too soon it seemed we were looking at “closing time” and I asked her if she wanted to get some coffee (I was a little reluctant to call my sister at this late hour and didn’t want to necessarily show up there too drunk.

Much to my surprise she agreed and we left after she was able to balance out her cashier drawer. It was about this point when I realized I had no idea where we might actually get a cup of coffee at this hour. I was gone to long to rely on my memory.

“You being the local, where would someone go to get some coffee at this hour?”

“Well, we could go over to the Triangle Diner but, I wasn thinking about just walking over to my place.” Things, indeed, were looking up.

It turned out that I was able to “get lucky” that evening. I spent the night with Jennifer and the following morning around 8:00 am, my cell started to ring. I checked the phone and saw it was my sister. Geez, I forgot to let her know where I was and she was probably understandably concerned.

I let the phone go to voice mail but took that opportunity to get out of bed, start to get ready and then returned my sister’s call. I was able to manage all of this without waking Jennifer so, I decided I’d go and get breakfast because I thought that was the least I could do.

When I returned and slipped back into the apartment, Jennifer was sitting on the edge of the bed looking kind of peeved.

“Where’d you go?”

“I went to get us some bagels and coffee.” I stammered out. I was immediately on the defensive just on the strength of her glare.

“I’d thought you shot out of here without even leaving a note.”

I should have left a note. I never was good with these “morning after” exchanges.

“Sorry. Want a bagel?”

“No, I wanted to cuddle a little…”

“Well…”

Well - Part X

2009-11-01T10:39:00.001-08:00

All good depressions must come to an end and I began to feel much better as I tooled around the familiar environs of my hometown. I cruised out to the local shopping mall on the outskirts of town. In doing so it was fun to be wandering around noting all the changes to the downtown area, the busy store fronts and traffic pattern changes that lead out to the main arterial highway leading to the mall.

I was listening to tunes and latched onto a string of reggae music that was both uplifting and got the toe tapping, head nodding motions going. I think it was a combination of the music and the old/new surroundings that allowed me to focus on what is good and promising in the world around me.

Arriving at the mall, I picked up a hot pretzel and chomping on that while I was looking for a clothing store to pick up a new shirt for that night. I noted the changes internally to the mall and the store selection. I tooled on into one of the larger shopping malls when I ran into Robert Grey, another old classmate.

“Bobby…how goes it?”

“Well, they’ll let just about anybody in here on a Saturday won’t they.”

“Only if they promise to buy something it seems.”

We exchanged a few more banal amenities then moved along to our individual pursuits. I selected a couple of shirts, made my purchase then moved on back out to the car. On the way back, I started reminiscing about high school times. I remembered gazing longingly across the cafeteria in Cheryl’s direction. I noted what she wore on a regular basis and during lunch time, she always seemed to be engaged in conversation with the same two or three girlfriends. I always thought I was pretty good at hiding my glances or covering up my casual interest but, according to our last conversation, I must have tipped my hand once or twice as she said that she knew I had a crush on her.

The crush couldn’t have meant much back then as neither of us felt compelled to act on it and here were 10 plus years out of high school and actually now socializing (or rather we are planning to socialize at least for this one date). I wondered when/where she took notice of my interest.

Since I had a couple of hours to kill before I was to pick her up, I decided to stop in at one of my old haunts, a bar that a lot of my group hung out in for witnessing sporting events and to wind down at night when the need arose. The establishment was called the “Rec Room” back then and I noted a name change when I pulled into the familiar parking lot. The new owners apparently were perhaps shooting for a slightly older clientele when naming the establishment the “Blind Squirrel.” There was a cute saying underneath that “even a blind squirrel can sometimes find a good nut.”

As I walked across the entranceway and approached the bar, I noted that there were very few folks gathered at the bar. It seems most of the current patrons were engrossed with a
TV broadcast airing on a large screen over by the pool table area. In fact I stood at the bar looking for service in vain for a number of minutes before my curiosity and thirst caused me to wander over to the edge of the crowd to see what was going on that was so captivating.

The scene that was being captured on the TV was from a news broadcast. It seems that something was either just announced or being discussed. It looked like a press release but I couldn’t quite make out what was transpiring. I asked some one at the edge of the crowd what was going on.

“They just announced that we were attacked in Alaska. The president is saying its an act of war is sending troops to the North Country to ward off an invasion by the Chinese.”

“Are they attacking us or Canada”

“Both it seems.”

I would later learn that an invasion force had landed in Alaska and that the Chinese were seeking to claim Alaska for its own. I guess they were interested in harvesting the oil reserves up there. According to the same gent, the Canadians have already responded by sending in troops to the area but it seems the Chinese have made great strides already and had claimed control of the state capital.

Well - Part IX

2009-10-30T03:43:00.001-07:00

It turned out I didn’t have to wait too long. About a half hour after the car conked out on me, I saw the lights of a patrol car kick in down the road and a state trooper pulled to the curb just behind my vehicle.

I did the usual inventory of what vehicle infractions I could be subject to and decided I should be okay. The darn thing did pass its inspection last month and I thought the tires were all legal at least. I had a storied history of traffic tickets in my dubious past.

I conveyed my plight to the officer and he called for a tow truck to get me off the side of the road. I thanked him and shortly thereafter I saw the flashing lights of the tow truck bearing down from the south.

I got towed to a little service center and forked over what I hoped was a good piece of plastic to cover the towing charges and was able to call my sister from the service center.
My sister sighed but said her husband would make the trek down to retrieve me and we could decide on what to do with the car in the morning.

Saturday morning came and I awoke in my childhood home feeling a tad disoriented and once I recognized my circumstances and the memory of the previous night came into focus, I started getting depressed. Here I was 31 years old seemingly with no direction in my life. I was a victim of a bad marriage, a nowhere, dead-end job, and with no clear prospects or direction.

I hate when days start like this.

I wondered out to the kitchen in search of coffee, breakfast and distraction. No one else in the house seemed to be stirring (or else they were gone…). I checked the time and began to wonder about my “date” with Cheryl later this evening. Should I call it off, tell her about the car trouble, admit to being a loser and tell her she would be best to forget she ever knew me.

I was feeling a bit sorry for myself.

Fortunately, this mood didn’t persist. I recognized the self-pity and shook it off and developed my usual pragmatic vision. What did I need to do first… that’s what I needed to focus on.

My sister came in and we exchanged greetings. I had already started coffee, she offered to cook some eggs and I accepted the offer.

We ate in relative silence. Her husband was working and the kids were off doing Saturday type activities so we were alone in the house. She told me that one of her high school friend’s husband had some cars for sale if I wanted to consider that option as opposed to attempting to fix up the current clunker again. I considered that option for nano-second and concluded that financially this wasn’t a realistic option.

Turns out when I checked with the service center that had my car that it fired up on the first try this morning. Probably just got too wet. I caught a ride down there from my sister. After picking up the car I rode out to a local mall to pick up some items for the date. My attention then began to focus on the next task at hand which was how to impress my former high school crush that I wasn’t the total loser that I appeared to be (and I felt at that point in time, I was).

Well - Part VIII

2009-10-28T18:02:00.001-07:00

Life is best viewed as a continual series of improvisations.

I’ve often thought of it as a test. It had to be a test, only a test. If it had been an actual life, we would then be receiving instruction on how to deal with it. This is only a test.

In any case, my life has taken some pretty intense twists and turns of late.

My next few days were filled with little mundane work related activities. I decided to call my sister since I lied and used that as an excuse to be in Danbury to pursue the date with Cheryl. I was also doing a lot less bar hopping, eating home, and decided I needed a little drying out period. I was more than a little nervous about the date. I was also concerned about what might transpire once I placed myself back in my “old stomping grounds” of western Connecticut.

By Friday afternoon I was in full-blown clock watching mode. I had accomplished most everything my employer had put on my plate and was puttering around killing time until quitting time. The days since I had returned to work only seemed to reinforce my belief that I was a tad overdue for some material changes in my life…both professional and personal.

Maybe a jaunt back to the old hometown would be just what the doctor ordered. I certainly hoped as much.

I decided to head back to the apartment first instead of dealing with the rush hour madness in the mass exodus that is the normal northbound out of the city traffic on a Friday experience (I’ve been there, got that t-shirt). I could, in fact, wait until Saturday morning but I had told my sibling that I would be showing up on her doorstep sometime Friday night so that option didn’t really exist.

I packed up a few changes of shirt and some dress slacks for the date and proceeded out to the beat up Chevy that was “my ride” these days. It was a1998 Lumina that was just about five years past its prime. It ran but the handling and the ride suffered from a lot of neglect and several years of harsh city driving. I headed north out of the city around 8:00 pm which avoided the lion’s share of the weekend rush.

I had gone about fifty miles when I ran into some torrential rains… I slowed to a crawl mostly because the wipers on this beast were not stellar performers either. I had made the trip often enough that the roadways were familiar and I was also accustomed to the usual places in my route that be subject to flooding.

I turned up the music just about the time that the engine decided it was wet enough and wanted a break. It cut out and I rolled to a stop on the shoulder of Rte 684 15 miles south of the Rte 84 interchange. I did the usual routine…curse first, pound the steering wheel, try to re-start the car, curse, pound the steering wheel…

The rain was coming down pretty hard at that point and there didn’t seem to be much traffic (probably due to the weather).

I checked my cell phone and sure enough… my luck was holding true and there was no signal and very little battery left for any attempt at communications. I repeated the same litany with the phone as I had just performed with the car; Call, call fail, curse, beat on the steering wheel, try call, call fail, curse….

I then attempted to assess what options I did have. I could start walking and feared that I’d end up as a hood ornament on some trucker’s dash. I could wait for a while and hope that a cop spotted me, I could continue to repeat the useless attempts at re-starting the car or making a call…

Well…

Well - Part VII

2009-10-26T03:27:00.001-07:00

I explained to Cheryl the events of the past week and waking up in the hospital with multiple contusions and some broken ribs. She was silent and let me finish the story but I could also see in her eyes some degree of abject horror in my tale.

Coming from a much smaller city and more of a neighborhood environment I could understand why she looked upon these circumstances as being so scary and unusual. I hoped I still did but it was still kind of fresh and I guess even though it was my own body… I was kind of in an out of body mindset that night. Anyway, after regaling her of my recent bad luck experiences. I kind of ran out of gas and the conversation seemed to come to an end.

Cheryl politely stated that “It’s getting late” and was in the process of excusing herself when I blurted out… “You know I had a heck of a crush on you in high school…” Her head spun around and she gave me a look of both pleasant surprise and curiosity.

“I knew…”

“Really?” It was my turn to be shocked. I was more sure that I had made absolutely no impression on young Cheryl than I was sure that grass was green and the sky was blue.

“I kept waiting on you to ask me out and it never happened.” She said.

I knew all too well that this was the case. I used to lay awake at night thinking of Cheryl. She was always cheerful but far from out going (as most of the popular girls were in my classroom). She always seemed to be just a bit out of place and trying to find her way. This was also true of most of my friends…and myself.

I had managed to get through High School with almost no experience with the opposite sex and my virginity firmly intact. As I was thinking about this, I was almost certain that I hadn’t even gotten Cheryl to sign my senior yearbook. To think that she was aware of my unspoken and “not acted upon” attraction was most surprising.

“Geez… I guess I was afraid of rejection or that you weren’t interested.” I stammered out (I guess I was feeling kind of defensive give this revelation).

“I thought you were kind of cute. You didn’t seem to be like any of the other guys. You were thoughtful and more of a bookworm.” Damn she was paying attention.

I might have been blushing but I was very encouraged because a few moments ago I thought Cheryl was about to walk out of my life again (and I probably wouldn’t have blamed her) and now she seemed to be settling back into her seat.

“…and here we are 10 years later…” I smiled. I didn’t know what else to do and it seemed like a rather natural response at this point. I was pleased that I had at least made some kind of impression on her (without really trying) and that her she was with the potential that I might have actually professed what I probably should have stated to her a decade earlier.

A semi-uncomfortable silence ensued and I was fearful that I was about to lose that momentum again. “Could we maybe … go out for a dinner or a movie sometime?”

“I’d like that.” She said. “But, how is that going to happen. I’m leaving tomorrow morning for Connecticut again. You making any trips back to our hometown in the near future?”

“Well…” Here comes another lie… I thought. “I was going to be coming up north next weekend to visit my sister. Are you free then?”
“Sure, I’d like that.”

With that comment our evening wound down shortly thereafter. I walked her to her hotel and we agreed that I would call her to confirm next Thursday.

As I was walking back to my apartment, I had the biggest grin on my face. I couldn’t believe the swing of luck in my life in such a short time span.

Well -Part VI

2009-10-24T09:43:00.001-07:00

Well Cheryl did come back. She stated that she had gotten a hold of her friend and that she had been detained and was going to “take a rain check.” Which meant that she was available for perhaps some coffee.

We strolled out of the bar and into the Indian Summer weather. Despite it being mid to late October, the evening air was slightly balmy. As we walked, we talked about inane topics such as the weather, preparations for Holloween and forthcoming holiday season. Seems that since she had never really left our hometown she had much more news from that area than I. I asked her how she decided to take up the teaching profession and she replied with “I couldn’t think of anything else that looked possible for me in that area.”

“Did you ever consider leaving Danbury?”

“Hundreds of times but, I could never decide on a direction or destination.”

“I see, have you done much traveling?”

“Not really, I’ve been up and down the east coast on vacations and the like but I don’t make a lot of money so the traveling bug was never really a possibility for me. My folks passed away a few years ago, my brother decided the military was his career so, that sort of left me alone to fend for myself.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be. It’s not as doom and gloom as that last statement made it sound. I’ve got a fair amount of friends, I’m happy.”

“Great.”

We then fell into a silence as we finished our walk and took a seat in the coffee shop. We ordered a couple of lattes and then resumed the talk.

“I came down to the city right out of High School and it certainly was a bit of culture shock. There was the thrill of all the possibilities but, in the first six months, I was mugged twice and my room got broken into. Last week I was rolled in an alley and sustained some broken ribs so… I’m really beginning to think a change of venue might be in order.”

“Geez… Now I’m the one to say I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. In most of those instances, the bad things happened because I have a tendency to do dumb things at the most inopportune times.”

“How so…?”

“Well…”

Well - Part V

2009-10-22T03:26:00.001-07:00

Cheryl Henderson was perhaps my first love. I don’t recall ever thinking about her in those terms but I don’t recall ever being smitten by any woman prior to her (at least to that degree). We never actually went out but we shared several classes and worked together on some school projects. She was probably completely unaware of the crush that I had on her in those days.

I was totally surprised and unprepared to run into her here in the city 10 years after our graduation from high school. When I was high school, I was the bookish nerd in my classes. I never really had to work very hard for good grades and that ease of not having to apply myself carried over from school into my present day work habits.

Cheryl, on the other hand, was probably an average student who was pretty shy and quiet for the most part. She had her small circle of friends and participated in the usual number of after school activities. She wasn’t “popular” in the classic sense of the term but I would venture to guess that you couldn’t find anyone in our class that disliked her for any reason.

She didn’t recognize me (naturally) but I spotted her in that crowded bar as if there was a baby spotlight trained on her and her alone. I made my way through the throng of people in the waiting area of the bar and I was getting closer to her position, my mind was racing for an opening line. I marveled at the light in her eyes and the fact that she smile and mannerisms don’t seem changed given the decade that had passed.

Without any better idea, I approached her from her left and blurted out “Cheryl?”

She turned and greeted my smile with a quizzical and curious look. She obviously was struggling with a response.

“Jim… Jim MacIntyre… remember from Danbury High?”

I watched as she processed that information and some degree of recognition grew in her expression.

“Oh… Yes, of course… How have you been? What are you doing in the city?”

“I moved her directly after graduation. I work in PR for a marketing firm here in Manhattan. It keeps me off the streets” I grinned self-consciously. “How are things going for you?”

“Not bad… I’m down here for a conference at the Hyatt. I went into teaching. I’m teaching elementary school back in Danbury still…”

“Great. You look great. Haven’t changed at all. Am I imposing…?” I glanced around but she appeared to be alone. This was very surprising to me so I had to ask… as dumb as it sounded (to me).

“Well, I’m supposed to be meeting someone here but I she must be running late”

“Do you want to get a table or something? If you’d like, I know a nice coffee shop in the next block. It would be a lot quieter.” Not bad I thought… redirection… see if she is interested in carrying on the conversation.

She nodded her head and said, “I really should see if I can get a hold of my friend… Let me try to give her a call. I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for an answer she turned away and began to pick her way through the crowd towards the door. I assumed she was going to step outside to make her call. The thought also crossed my mind that she could also be intending to leave and not come back….

Well - Part IV

2009-10-20T15:32:00.001-07:00

So… Where does this all lead? I wish I could say that I had benefited from some great insight as a result of my beating while stumbling home drunk one evening but… I’m not sure that’s really the case.

I resolved to attempt to get myself home at an earlier hour. I decided that I would try really hard not to urinate in any strange alleyways (familiar alleyways are still fair game by that definition I guess…) and I suppose that I should say that the experience with closing out all of my credit cards and the changing of passwords and the like was a good exercise if only because it forced me to take that inventory. Oddly enough I never saw any fraudulent charges or problems as a result of my wallet being picked. I imagined that it just wound up in a dumpster somewhere after the thief grabbed the meager $20 or so that represented my “walking around cash”.

Work was a tad less pleased with my calling them as late as I did that day but they didn’t really give me much of a hard time about it. I guess they decided that getting rolled in an alleyway was basis for a short term disability stint. I wound up having to fill out some forms but, all in all, it wasn’t as bothersome as I was initially thinking it would become.

I stayed out the rest of that week and rested up through the weekend. One of my friends arrived at my doorstep on Friday night with a pizza and a six-pack. I shared the pizza but opted not to partake of the beer. I thanked him and sent him on his way well before midnight.

The following Monday was “face the music” time and I strolled in with freshly pressed clothes and a forced smile on my face. I had the anticipated glut of emails to parse through and I read with interest what was transpiring as far as potential business opportunities. I was riddled to some extent with some guilt feelings and wanted to throw myself into some projects to make up for my “lost time” experience.

The first few days passed rather uneventfully and then the painful one-week anniversary took place that Thursday. There was the usual group of folks that were assembling for an “after work” meeting at the local pub. I had mixed feelings about joining them but in the end, found myself on that barstool again. I started very slowly and combined seltzer water with rounds of beer. I left after a quick burger and got home before 10:00 that evening. All in all, my experience was a somewhat respectable change in comparison to my habits of the last couple of months.

Through that week I could almost convince myself that I had things under control and that I was on the road to rebuilding my standing with the company and starting to adhere to a more conservative and healthy lifestyle.

Then I had a chance meeting with my old classmate, Cheryl.

Well - Part III

2009-10-18T04:21:00.001-07:00

The hospital room was typical and the scene before me was exactly what I would have expected seeing in a hospital room…except I wasn’t expecting to see a hospital room when I awoke.

To me there was no time passage from blacking out in that alleyway in front of the cop and awakening in the hospital. What did transpire in that time frame was that I was now cleaned up, in a hospital gown, an IV connected to my left arm and apparently on some painkillers because I wasn’t feeling any vestige of a hangover. I somehow thought that the hangover was something I was almost expecting despite all the other events of the past few hours.

The nurse who was looking down at me at this moment was wearing the usual crisp white uniform and a small scowl on her face. I wasn’t sure if the subject of the scowl was a reaction to me in general, my injuries, or perhaps she was just having a bad morning. Whatever the cause, she then attended to her duties by checking my IV tubes and bag. She asked me whether I “needed anything”. She offered no explanation as to my condition or the treatment that I was undergoing at the moment but, only gave me a forced smile and then left the room.

I again, attempted to take an inventory to check and see if I had mobility of all of my extremities, check to make sure I could shift my position in the bed (slightly) and then I used the call button to request a nurse. I couldn’t stand the suspense any loner and wanted an explanation as to how hurt I was. I didn’t trust my suddenly optimistic assessment of my current situation.

When the same nurse with the (seemingly) perpetual scowl on her face returned, I blurted out my question…

“So, how busted up am I …?”

“You sustained a couple of fracture ribs, several contusions to various areas of your body and we suspect a minor concussion. Other than that, you should be fine and discharged after an over night here for observation.”

Well, I greeted this information with a mixture of relief and puzzlement. I wasn’t sure if time would allow me to piece together the rest of the events that occurred that morning in that back alleyway but, I’m not sure it’s all that important. My next concerns were really with closing out the credit cards and minimizing whatever monetary damage I was surely going to experience.

Oh, and I needed to call my boss to let him know I wasn’t going to be coming into the office for a couple of days.

Hawaiian Escape

2009-10-16T07:08:00.001-07:00

Surprisingly, I had agreed to go back to collage. Somehow, I was going to do this with two of my best friends (but not my wife). We had somehow developed a sweet deal to return to college within the great state of Hawaii.

We are arriving in Hawaii, disembarking from the plane to be greeted with the traditional Lei ceremony by “native” Hawaiians and then we are whisked off to the campus of the university.

We checked in with all of our stuff and were escorted to our new living quarters which consisted of a very nice looking apartment that was well suited for two people. As I suggested though, we were three. Apparently the deal which was masterminded by my oldest friend Jerry was to have all of us enroll in college but have me live with them (in their dorm room) to conserve funds.

We were all celebrating and marveling that we were beginning this great new adventure. We were congratulating each other on this wonderful decision, the weather was going to be great and we were going to have a grand time in the ensuing four years in the beautiful environs of Hawaii.

It was then that my internal voice reminded me that I was married. I still seemed to be 18 years old (and even I wasn’t stupid enough to be married when I really was 18 years old… I waited until I was 20…), I realized then, that I hadn’t even informed my present day wife (a wonderful woman who I am madly in love with) that I had “run off” to college, moved out and living in Hawaii.

I knew that I needed to call her. My friend was regaling some stories of the last time he was in college and the hazing that was performed on “newbies.” He was accounting this apparently for my benefit. It was seemingly suggested that this was about to take place with me playing the role of the victim.

Just then, my friend handed me the phone. Said it was my wife on the phone. I swallowed hard and took the phone trying to figure out how I was going to break the news to her and wondering how quickly I could get her out here and what that would do to our envisioned plan for the next four years.

Somehow the conversation got onto the topic of Internet access. It seemed we currently (in our room in Hawaii, in college, within this bizarre situation that I was in) enjoying some pretty good bandwidth. My wife asked if we were going to be getting the same kind of connection in our “new” apartment. I wasn’t aware that we were moving and asked about this to my friend and his wife. His wife then said well… “Geez, you didn’t think we were all going to stay here long. It was set up for two people.” This seemed to strike me odd as I thought this was all pre-arranged and I wasn’t aware that she wasn’t cool with me being the unofficial housepest of the experience.

Some surrealistic scenes then took place with me sleeping in different places within the building.

This series of scenes halted with me still being on the phone with my present day wife. My rational mind was also seeping into this experience by pointing out that if my friend and his wife were 18 years old, then they weren’t married either. They hadn’t even met until my friend was almost 40 years. This was also the case, my rational mind reminded me, with my wife and myself.

I was enjoying the experience of being 18 again and in college. I was really relishing the fact that we seemingly would be spending some great times in Hawaii. My rational mind was also reminding me that I needed to get a job because I had been spoiled of late with having money and all appearances seemed to suggest that this was definitely going to be a contrast with my current course of action within this "new arrangement."

The alarm then went off and I was awakened.

This was all a dream.

I lay there after “killing” the alarm letting the dream experiences conflict (casually it seemed, almost easing my passage into wakefulness) with reality.

I got up and passed my over 50 wife in the hall way as I was proceeding to the bathroom. I heard the coffeemaker start up by grinding beans in the kitchen. I felt the pain in my over 50 back as I was picking up some items that had fallen off the bureau onto the floor. I didn’t even want to think about the day that was ahead of me but my now fully awakened mind reminded me that I had to go to the eye doctor after work today to get new glasses. I began the morning routine to take my medications and juice to prepare the aging body for the day ahead.

What a contrast with the fun loving 18 year old that was looking at an amazing streak of luck to begin a four-year college experience with good friends in Hawaii.

Well - Part II

2009-10-14T02:35:00.001-07:00

I woke up knowing I had just peed on myself. The warm fluid seeping down my right leg was at first a nice bit of warmth. I realized also that the rest of my body was pretty darn cold.

Then the pain worked its way into my consciousness. I didn’t know exactly how bad it was but I began to take an inventory. I was pretty sure I had some broken ribs and the right side of my face felt like it was on fire. I could still taste blood. I imagined that I might have lost some teeth. I tried to pick up my head and found that I was partially successful there.

I rolled over onto my left side because that side appeared to be in better shape and tried to get up on all fours. It was daylight but I had no inkling as to what time it was. The sun was cruel in its all-pervasive intensity. I got myself sitting up and then fell back to my haunches leaning against the alley wall. I could see people walking by on the avenue but I wasn’t sure that I wanted notice of my plight from other passersby. The damage report hadn’t been completed yet and I knew I needed some degree of medical attention but was still hoping that I could make it up to my room without drawing much attention. I needed to let work know what was going on and then get to a hospital.

It was then that my inventory efforts revealed that I didn’t have a wallet (meaning no ID or credit cards) nor did I appear to have keys. (Great this was getting to be a more serious situation by the minute).

Lacking any other plans, I started to try to crawl to the end of the alley. I had no choice but to try and solicit some aid from my fellow citizens. I croaked out a couple of attempts at a “Hey, over here… Hey… I need some help” but it came up probably no louder than a croaking and no more intelligible than a guttural slurring of an attempt at English.

I did manage to get within about 5 feet from the sidewalk on the avenue when I got the notice of someone. My one good working eye seemed to focus on someone wearing a lot of blue. To my surprise (horror, shame) it was a patrolman that approached and knelt by my broken form on the ground. His eyes seemed to relay that my situation might be a tad more dire than my preliminary damage reports had revealed.

“Sit still sir… I’m going to get an ambulance here…”

I attempted to stammer out a thanks but it probably sounded like a weak bark.

He produced a handkerchief out of a pocket and began to swipe at the right side of my head. His first touch produced a shooting pain and I withdrew my head quickly as if slapped.

“Ok, ok, just sit tight dude.” he said…

I began to hear the sound of an approaching siren and proceeded to allow myself to lay back down on the ground.

All I could do was wait. I don’t remember any other portion of the experience until I woke up much later in a hospital with some male nurse attending to an IV.

“Hey… ‘bout time you decided to check back in with the land of the living…”

Well - Part I

2009-10-12T06:16:00.001-07:00

I looked down at the whiskey in front of me as if it might suddenly begin to take on some hostile characteristics. Well, here you are again…three A.M. and too wrecked to navigate and only a few hours before you have to be at work and functional.

How does this happen? You knew when you walked in here that you were destined for trouble. Looking for love in all the wrong places. This is probably not the right way to find your next future ex-wife but, just as surely as the salmon swim upstream, you find a way to sit on this bloody bar stool again.

Oh sure, it was only going to be a few beers with some supper. I might watch a little bit of the ballgame but then I was going to head straight home and to bed at a reasonable hour. You have that one vendor meeting relatively early and you still haven’t finished the monthly report.

Yeesh, this is going to be ugly. You can feel the hangover coming on already. Get some water and pop the Vitamin B. You begin the internal debate as to the relative wisdom of two hours of sleep versus staying up and gutting it out. The body is screaming for the sleep but, the brain is woefully pleading its case that the sleep will only yield more intense fuzziness when arriving at the office a few hours. The logic (so the brain contends) is that getting going again will be roughing then searching out for the third or fourth wind that will come (albeit with not a small amount of discomfort).

First things first. Slide off the barstool and wonder towards the apartment. The crisp morning air is less cruel than you thought it might be. You pass a bum laying in the alley covered with garbage bags snoring loudly. The street lights illuminate the way with little pity towards the ache in your skull. Crossing the street you hear someone’s stereo playing some slow sadly sweet jazz playing through a window somewhere.

One more block to go…very few cars but that’s not surprising given the early hour, you lose the jazz music and detect the sound of garbage men starting their rounds probably a block or two over from your avenue.

Suddenly, the nausea is kicking in. The street and buildings begin that sickening little dance that indicates to you that you might lose that supper you had four and half hours ago. You arrive at your building but don’t think you can face the stairs right now. You begin breathing a little deeper trying to work through the gastro discomfort and clear your head. It appears that you aren’t going to be successful though. You begin to do the little drunkard’s prayer and looking for a spot in the alley to unload.

Oh shoot. There’s definitely a lesson here and you should wake up and take notice of it. How many times has it been this month alone that you find yourself leaning against some cement wall behind a dumpster upchucking a combo of cheap beer and fast food. I’m going to have to make up a story because there’s no way I’m going to be able to get to work now. I need a few hours to let the alcohol work through my system. I’ll call Randy and see if he can cover for me with the vendor.

Just then, I detected a presence in the alleyway. A young kid has risen from the shadows further down the alley and coming up on me fast. I spin around to face him as I feel the first blow to the side of my head. I shout out in pain but there’s another and then another. I raise my hands to attempt to ward off the blows as the darkness falls around me and I lose consciousness. The last thing I recall was a taste in my mouth that was a mixture of vomit and blood.

The Bridge

2009-10-10T03:57:00.000-07:00

A bridge to nowhere

He was looking out over the lake when he spotted a lonely looking soul staring down at the water from the edge of the bridge.

The bridge in this case had once been a gleam in some land developer’s eye but, became a joke around these parts as it remained standing there 1/3 of the way finished and perpetually waiting for the attention to make it useful and complete.

The barricades that had been constructed to keep people (mostly kids) off it had been pushed over and crammed down on the edges so that they really served purpose but, to indicate that the bridge was not supposed to be traversed.

She stood there long enough that he thought she might have been staring at something specific that she could see from the unique perspective of her position on the structure.

The sun began peeking over the horizon and would soon (probably about 15 minutes or so) have risen completely to begin to burn off some of the fog on the lake.

He didn’t believe that she was in any real danger initially but, the longer she stood motionless on the edge of that bridge the more concern began to creep into his consciousness.

He had been out flying that morning. It was cool and crisp and he liked the feeling of being up there when no one was around or doing any of the usual activities that lakefront towns, and village were apt to be doing during normal waking hours.

Now his trusty experimental plan was sitting idly on the edge of the beach while he sipped coffee and watched this curious young woman.

He decided that he should probably reach out to her to at least let her know that someone was there and watching. Perhaps that might jar her out of her reverie.

“He..Hey…” He stammered. “I mean, good morning!”

There was a little response. He thought he saw some degree of recognition in her body language reacting to the sound of his voice.

“How’s it going?”

She never lifted her face nor did she appear to waver in her attentive stare into the calm blue waters of the lake. The last I saw her, she seemed to have a sly smile on her face. She slowly toppled and fell... a moment later I heard the splash.

The Morning Looms

2009-10-08T05:29:00.001-07:00

The morning looms.
Darkness will gave way as it always does.
Do the morning routine.
Drive to work.
Curse Traffic.
Check the schedule.
Get to desk.
Login.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Curse Dell.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Check the to do task list.
Get Coffee.
Go to meetings.
Get more Coffee.
Go to meetings.
Go to lunch.
Go to meetings.
Go back to desk.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Go to late meeting.
Go back to desk
Check Voice Mail
Check email
Add to the to do list.
Add to the calendar.
Log off.
Curse Dell.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Go Sit in traffic.
Daylight fades. Darkness again.
Get home
Have Supper.
Login.
Curse Dell.
Curse Mickeysoft.
Curse ISPs.
Check the voice mail.
Check the email.
Check the to do task list.
Log off.
Sleep.
Alarm.
Morning Looms.

Living the dream.

What Happens...?

2009-10-06T11:37:00.001-07:00

What happens when…?

What happens when a child cries?

What happens when a dream dies?

What happens when your heart lies?

Life goes on and I wonder…

Nice Day For A ...

2009-10-04T19:08:00.001-07:00

The families had gathered
The church was arrayed
With white bows and flowers
The bride’s father had paid

We were the guests, the friends,
The witnesses most keen
On seeing the ceremony,
A most loving of scenes

The weather was nice
The Gods had approved
The service was finished
With the bride and the groom

Now off to the reception
All cameras put away
The happy couple has left
And gone to the party.

The clean up was done
In silence by men
With whisk brooms and bags
The church was cleared again

With all of the wedding joy
A thing of the past
The pastor prepared
For the funeral mass

Heroes

2009-10-02T04:08:00.001-07:00

Two questions:

Where did all the heroes go? The folks we (the old folks – My Generation) grew up with admiring and wanting to model our own lives after. The politicians, the social leaders, the artists, the sports figures…

Who are this generation’s heroes? Where are they going to come from?

These questions I ponder.

When I was growing I vacillated between wanting to be an astronaut and wanting to pursue some kind of artistic career. I loved reading and music and had both literary heroes as well as musical heroes. There were the stars of stage and screen that were also inspirations. John Wayne, Clint Eastwood, Sean Connery (as James Bond). Musicians such as the Beatles, the doors, the Stones, The Who, along with songwriters like Bob Dylan, Phil Ochs, and Neil Young. Comics such as Jerry Lewis, Jack Lemon, Bob Hope, Jack Benny, George Carlin. Writers like Hemmingway, Thoreau, Jack Kerouac, Jim Dodge, J.R.R. Tokien, Hunter Thompson all shaped my view of the world and defined for me artistic goals and pursuits.

Social activism was a prominent subject in the news and in the daily vernacular. The debate over the War in Vietnam, the power of the presidency, the battle for social equality within this country (and around the world ) all fostered many heroes such as President Kennedy, his brothers Robert and Ted, Dr. Martin Luther King, Abby Hoffman and the Chicago 8, Ralph Nader, and many others were inspiring in their words and actions.

It strikes me as I put together the lists above that there was a fair amount of cross-over in the 1960s and 1970s where artists were involved in activism. Pete Seeger was as much a musical hero as he was a political activist. People like Harry Chapin’s involvement in World Hunger and Bob Dylan whose songs became stables of the civil rights movement. Andy Warhol, Ken Kesey, Alan Ginsberg and Timothy Leary all questioned the social and cultural norms that were prevalent in the decades preceding the 1960’s. The hippie idealist sentimentality and idolism was fueled by the music of the day and these incredible poets, philosophers and artists.

The lines have been blurred again. In general, the American public (can only speak to the culture that I’m most familiar with) have become very immune to political figures’ charisma. Most have been jaded, perhaps irrevocably by corruption, double speak, broken promises and disillusionment with the people and the political process that heroes aren’t likely to come from this camp any more.

Media stars are now extremely short lived. There aren’t prominent entertainers that ride a long career any more. Instead we have bands that might make two good albums and then are never heard from again. TV series rarely go beyond the 5 years it takes to gain syndication rights. In short the long standing “stars” of the previous generation (Elvis Presley, John Wayne, Frank Sinatra and the rat pack, Bob Hope) had careers that spanned decades. Today’s “stars” are rarely if ever going to have the same longevity in their careers. They seem to fizzle out a lot quicker and fade into obscurity.

Perhaps part of the change (or at least my perception of it) is that the methods of consumption of news, music and culture (at large) has changed so drastically in the last twenty years. We are exposed to much more information and media sources than ever before that perhaps the truly revolutionary and effective artistic accomplishments are harder to discern or more apt to be overshadowed by the onslaught of the pseudo-famous works of the “celebrity of the day” media mavens. The Octo-Mom, Jon and Kate, Paris Hilton… in short all the folks that are famous by today’s standards not so much for accomplishments but... just for being famous.

I think the heroes of today are likely going to come from very different sources. I believe that “new media” podcasters, Internet personalities, (and yes indeed, dare I say it...) bloggers are going to become the new cultural leaders.

Popularity of such social networking applications such as Facebook, MySpace, Twitter, SecondLife are giving rise to a new breed of celebrity. Your level status within World of Warcraft, the ability to own a personal virtual island, your creativity garnering a new breed of Web 2.0 site will garner the attention of the masses in new and different ways.

Using these new tools we are creating content at a pace never before seen in our society. We have capabilities to publish this content using freely available and easy to use tools that have revolutionized the publishing of media and artistic content. This gives way to faster and more accessible content that can be spread through a virulent ecosystem that fuels interest and gives rise to a different breed of celebrity.

So...What? -Conclusion

2009-09-30T03:35:00.001-07:00

All around the scene in front of me, people were joining me out in the parking lot surveying the damage outside. I asked a few folks how things looked in the upper floors of the building. It seems that aside from no power (although the generators were running). Apparently there is some problem with the distribution and at least I heard that the fourth floor and third floor office space was without power.

I was kind of reluctant to re-enter the building. My first inclination was to get off the property, return home and see if there was any bad news in my neighborhood. There was a light rain starting to fall and the wind was picking up again so, I reluctantly re-entered the building and checked in with the fire wardens were all trying to get a head count and see if anyone was injured. Thankfully, at least as far as I had heard, there were no injuries to anyone in the building.

I walked upstairs to see if I could help anyone within IT. I was certain because of the power outages that there was likely some system restoration underway. I found the Infrastructure manager and asked politely how things were going.

“Well, I think all the systems weathered the storm. The network however has some telecommunications issues. I think there was a problem on the third floor that still needs to be addressed. “

“I see, well, what are officially supposed to be doing right now?”

“The business continuity folks are convening and I’m sure there will be some announcements soon. Just go back to your desk and wait…”

Yeah, that should work I thought. I wandered over to my cubicle and saw that surprisingly nothing much was out of place. The side of the building my desk was situated on was away from the where the brunt of the storm passed through. I picked up the phone and found that I had a dial tone. I experimentally called my home again. My wife picked up and informed me that she had heard there were still some storms in the area that folks were being advised to stay indoors.

“Okay well, you do that. I’ll be here… for now…”

After about a half hour, we started to hear that “all non-essential personnel were allowed to leave.” We were told to check in with our supervisor and call the usual number to see if the office was going to open tomorrow.

I checked with my supervisor (by cell phone. I had no idea where he was). He said that it was fine to leave so I picked up my computer bag and other belongings and proceeded outside to my car. Once I had gotten outside I noticed that the wind had really started to blow hard again. This coupled with a fair amount of rain made me uneasy.

I had a casual conversation with some of the other staffs that were hanging out in the doorway of the building waiting to see if the rain would let up before proceeding out to the vehicles. I stubbornly chose to just walk ahead to my truck.

As I neared my truck, I saw a small woman whose car had suffered some damage and she was considering how road worthy the vehicle was. I talked with her briefly and then all of a sudden she looked up and knew something was wrong. She was staring intently over my right shoulder.

I spun around in time to see the funnel cloud forming about 100 yards away. It was hovering about 150 feet off the ground but the winds were now increasing at a frightening pace. I turned back and saw that the woman had turned and ran back towards the building.

Here we go again…

So...What? - Part III

2009-09-28T04:25:00.001-07:00

The winds continued to roar outside our little stairwell refuge for what seemed like hours but was more in fact about 10 – 12 minutes. In that time frame I witnesses some of my co-workers run the entire gamut of human emotions from stark fear, to crying, hugging one another to shouting angry epitaphs to the Gods while the storm raged on.

When the storm had passed, an eerie quiet seemingly suddenly. My companions in the stairwell, on the landing and below me all raised their heads with imploring eyes. Everyone was straining to hear the sounds around us. I also took notice of others that had sought refuge in the stair well above us in at least the next two landings.

Finally a gentleman I didn’t recognize was the first to crack the door of the stairwell open and gazed out cautiously at the lobby of the building. The look on his face was indicative of the amount of damage that he was seeing for the first time and attempting to reconcile this image with the one that he obviously remembered a short time ago.

I was still sitting in a dazed shock on the first landing when the first group of folks at the base of the stairs bravely ventured forth into the lobby. I heard several “Oh my God” quotes along with “Oh no…” as the reactions began to sitting in with everyone.

After sitting there and seeing that others from the landing above were beginning to filter down, I stood up and made my way into the lobby. The first thing that struck me was the silence. There was no muzak, no white noise, no stirrings of kitchen noises coming form the cafeteria… nothing.

Most of the external windows on the side facing the front of the building were caved in and I could see and feel the breezes coming from the outside. I saw a couple of individuals that had sought refuge under the salad bar tables emerge. It seemed that the damage to the external of building was not extensive although I continued to keep my ear tuned to any groaning in the structure. Once that idea had entered my head my only thoughts were to get outside of the building. I moved towards the door to assess the effects of the storm on the outside world. I also reached for my cell phone wanting to assure myself of the fate of my family in the nearby townships.

I managed to get a call into my wife. She stated that they had some high winds but, no evidence of a wind storm on the scale of what we had experienced. She was about 30 miles west of my employer’s building and I prayed that the storm was moving west to east as most meteorological phenomenon does in this portion of the country. I told her to get into the basement and stay there for a while (just in case).

I scanned the parking lot and saw several vehicles that had been moved by the winds. Some were obviously out of place and two or three were overturned. It wasn’t clear to me yet how much of a direct hit we took.

I heard then the firing up of the diesel generators in the rear of the building and some subsequent pops of electrical equipment. I then scanned the outside of the building and saw some flames in what appeared to be the third floor on the east side of the building. Knowing that this is where our telecommunications equipment was for our data center I thought that this was not a good sign. I then did a quick thank you (sorry it was more of an afterthought) to the fates that this was not as bad of an outcome that my first usual pessimistic outlook was imagining.

So... What? - Part II

2009-09-26T13:33:00.001-07:00

At first it was hard to make out and fully grasp what I was seeing. If I didn’t know that it was early afternoon, I might have surmised that it was about 6:30 in the morning.

The horizon was obscured severely by what appeared to be very thick, ominous looking fog banks that were continuing to roll towards us. I could barely make out the outline of the guard shack that stood at the perimeter of the company’s property. As we stood there, the bright sunshine that was streaming just moments before, was now becoming almost imperceptible because of the fog.

Without feeling it, I could sense high winds accompanying the fog. There aren’t many tall trees on the property but the hedges and the light poles that were arrayed throughout the parking lot were beginning to show some straining to these elements.

I was still focused on the fog when another element of the scene in front of me began to demand some of my attention. A large cone-shaped image was emerging slowly from the fog. It seemed to take up the upper portion of the fog bank with the pointed end of the cone now lowering towards the horizon perhaps about 1/2 mile away. I could clearly make out other smaller box like objects whirling around the vortex of the cone when I knew that I was witnessing my first hurricane/tornado and it was bearing down on us quite quickly and seemingly on a direct path towards the building.

I came to this conclusion perhaps a few second ahead of the security guards that were standing along side of me and a few other gawking spectators that had gathered in lobby during this interim.

A couple of things entered my mind. We were standing in a slab constructed four story building. There was no basement or underground portion of the building to move people towards or to seek shelter. The upper floors were all encased in wrap-around glass that ran from floor to ceiling. The ground floor where we were standing was probably the most well-protected portion of the building. I’d often heard that you were supposed to seek shelter underneath archways in some internal portion of the building in such circumstances. I glanced around to see if any of the guards (or others) were looking to snap into action.

Seeing nothing of the sort, I decided that I would begin to move back into the center area of the building towards the 1st floor conference center and shoot for the stairwell as the best place to be if/when this storm was going to be hitting the building. As an aside, I shouted that I think we all might want to do the same thing and move away from the lobby, the cafeteria and all those lovely windows and head for the stairwells.

A few folks blindly followed me, a few of the guards took the prompting and began to move some folks out of the lobby. The last time I looked back, I saw that there were still a half dozen or more of folks that had remained standing stock-still continuing to gaze uncontrollably at nature’s fury when I heard the first windows breaking inwards.

I entered the stairwell and moved upwards towards the first landing. It was perhaps 12 steps but afforded anyone who was following me the opportunity to get into that space without having to step around me. There were several shocked looks on the faces of the few people that had followed my lead. I could only imagine what was evident on my own face. I’m a life time New Yorker and the specter of hurricanes or tornadoes in this region is remote at best. The only things I knew about these circumstances were what I saw portrayed in the media and in movies. I never dreamed that I would be thrust into such a situation (at least not around here).

We started to hear some shrieking and cries of fear and perhaps other emotions from the areas above and outside of the stairwell. The lights went out within a minute of the time we took our positions and in addition to the human noises, I also heard the roar of the storm rumbling seemingly all around us.

Not typically fairly religious a short prayer was running through my mind.

So... What? - Part I

2009-09-24T10:22:00.001-07:00

So what’s it going to be today? A story, a poem, a rant, a soapbox spiel?

Egads man this is going to be a tough one today. Not really in touch with the muse at all. Must push through that resistance though… Part of the program, yes it ‘tis.

We could revisit our friends at the “Hungry Iguana”, work on the memoirs, perhaps an update on the state of the state with regards to views on current affairs, The “Elusive Headpin” has been more elusive of late. No, I don’t think I want to go down any of these streets today.

Something new, some path not tread upon of late.

There once was a man from Nantucket…

Only kidding….

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away… No, that’s been done to death… star…

These are the times that try men’s soul… A screaming comes across the sky… Call me Ishmael… It was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking thirteen… I have never begun a novel with more misgiving… This is a tale of two cities… Once upon a time… I am a sick man, a spiteful man…This winter of discontent… Doc it hurts when I do this… Two Jews walked into a bar…

Okay, okay… all seriousness aside, here we go…

It began quite simply as most complex things do. We were sitting in the company cafeteria when I spotted a group of our crack security folks pointing and gesticulating frantically out of the front entrance of the building outwards towards the parking lot. Since it was a bright, sunny day, all the blinds had been drawn on the windows in the dining room so there was no clear way to discern what phenomenon was drawing the security staff’s interest.

Since I had pretty much finished my meal, I stood and walked slowly over to the trash receptacles and then wandered towards the front lobby. As I approached, it became apparent (to me) that the guards were also quite puzzled at whatever they were watching.

As I neared the front desk, I nodded towards the receptionist who was also staring with rapt attention in the same general direction as the guards. So, as casually as I could muster, I approached the group and looked out of the front entranceway of the building.

It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the difference in the lighting between the artificial lighting that was in the lobby and the bright sunlight that was streaming in from outside. It took a few more seconds for my mind to comprehend fully what I was seeing out there in the autumn sunshine…

The wait

2009-09-23T19:29:00.000-07:00

A weight thrown off
is like a muscle grown
a sleek new strength revealed.

Light first seen
from darkened room
burns eyes like tungsten fire.

The voice you hear
when it comes to break
The longest silence sings

a true sweet song
of restful sleep
after fitful nights of fear.

From swirling mire comes
her softly chiding voice
and whispers in my ear

Wake up my love
for dark is fled
and all has been a dream.

Urban Evening - Conclusion

2009-09-22T02:50:00.001-07:00

It was a strange little standoff that was taking place. We had two ruffians that looked like they stepped out of some gang movie. They were being confronted by an almost classic “98 pound weakling” who was accusing of violence against an unseen (by us) friend back in the park. We also had a bleeding street urchin who claimed he was the second coming of our lord and savior… oh, and me. At that point, I was cursing whatever desire that caused me to want to take a late night stroll in the autumn air that point in this strange and rather frightening position.

I was attempting to assess everyone’s foot speed and was looking for an opportune break in the standoff that might yield an exit path for me when “Christ” spoke yet again.

“Come now son, you don’t want to hurt anyone…” he was addressing the large young black man who was brandishing the knife. He offered a hand towards the young man as the thug, at that moment, swiped at him with the knife. “Christ” was now bleeding from both palms openly. The street urchin who called himself “Jesus Christ” was beginning to resemble the crucified savior with the visible wounds he was now suffering.

At that point, the other skinny young white man who was making the accusations jumped the black guy from behind causing him to lose his hold on the knife. The Hispanic thug then moved to assist his comrade when I saw the police cruiser on the avenue swinging down in our direction. I yelled “The cops are coming!” and then to make sure that this statement was true I moved out into the street waving my arms frantically.

The Hispanic thug took off on a dead run back into the park. The Black man shrugged off his would-be assailant easily (as if throwing off an extra shirt because he was too warm) and began to move after him. “Christ” then shouted “Wait my sons, come back…you needn’t run…”

The police car pulled up to the curb and jumped out with quizzical looks on their faces but guns drawn. The skinny white kid was picking himself up off the sidewalk (again). He had suffered some bad scrapes on his arms and a torn knee but was still anxious to get the attention of the peace officers.

“Jesus Christ” was moving back into the park at a slow trot. He had to have lost a fair amount of blood but he seemingly has taken no notice of this. I was torn between wanting to get the police officers up to speed on the situation and needing to keep an eye on “Jesus” to make sure he got some medical attention. Since the skinny white guy was holding their attention and no doubt was telling them of impending evil in the park, I moved after our erstwhile savior.
I caught up to “Jesus” rather easily because within three strides of the entrance to the park he had tripped and was laying in the grass with his legs still attempting to run. He looked like a child’s wind up toy that had lost its balance and was flailing away on its side. As I looked at him in the dim light of the entranceway lamps that were a function of the two pillers that made up the archway into the park, I could see his feet were also bleeding… perhaps as a result of him losing his sandals somewhere in the struggle and perhaps he had stubbed them badly on one of the rocks that lined the walkway. As I knelt down to him he looked up to me and said “What shall it profit a man if he gains the whole world but loses his soul?”

A chill ran through me. I recalled those words somewhere back in my latent Catholic upbringing.

I told him “Take it easy, I’m sure the police will catch up with them…. Just stay with me…”

To which he replied… “ Yes I am with you always, until the very end of time.”

Okay, now I’m getting even more weirded out. I looked at him in his dirty rags bleeding from his hands and feet, laying on the ground quoting scripture.

I cried out to no one in particular “Hey, I think we need some medical attention here…! Anyone around? Please call an ambulance!!”

The police had caught up with the large black kid and was leading back to where we were laying in the grass. The cop looked down at the two of us and said…”I got this one. Can someone tell me what the heck is going on?”

To which my fallen comrade replied “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.”

Urban Evening - Part II

2009-09-20T04:24:00.001-07:00

I heard them before we saw them. There was a low rhythmic rumbling that was emanating from some boom box with a prominent bass rattle that was too much for the speaker trying to convey the sound. You could hear the buzzing from the plastic case of the stereo player with every low note played.

Two youths came lumbering up from the park toward the entranceway where we were standing. The first one a very large black kid a wearing cut off sweatshirt and baggy pants with what appeared to be a skateboard tucked into the rear of the pants. The other kid, a tad skinnier light skinned Hispanic with visible body piercing, a large scar on the left side of his face and tattoos on his forearms was carrying the boom box. They both had the expression of mild annoyance with something. They carried themselves with almost a tired resigned body language as if they had many miles to go before they could rest.

As they reached the avenue and passed us, a skinny little white boy came running around the corner and shoved the large black man.

“Yo, where do you think you’re going…!! You just can’t walk away from this!”

“Get outta our way dude, I don’t know you. Why are you getting up in my grill?”

“I saw you… I saw what you did to Brian. He’s lying back there near the fountain. He needs medical attention, if you don’t help, I’m going to call the police.” The white kid whined.
“I told you to get of my way little man. I don’t want to hafta cut ya or nothing…” The black kid growled.

The white kid was persistent. He continued to run around the two youths attempting to block their progress.

All of a sudden a knife appeared. The black was brandishing it in the white boy’s face.

“You see this dude? You want some of this…? Get outta the way!” and he shoved the white kid hard. The white boy stumbled off the sidewalk and rolled to the ground. The other two turned and looked like they were going to be moving on down the avenue.

That’s when “Jesus” scooted away from me and confronted the two rough looking youths.

“Excuse me son but violence is never the way to achieve anything.”

“Stay out of this Christ… you don’t know what’s going on here…” said the Hispanic kid.

I thought…they know one another… they addressed him as “Christ” or was that a cursing… It took me a minute to process that.

“Come on Jesus, let’s head over to Mercy and see if we can get someone to look at your hand…” I offered.

It was then that the black kid seemed to notice me for the first time.

“Hey old man, what the heck do you think you’re doing…”

“Nothing… I just was attempting to help. He’s hurt… “ Indicating my new acquaintance “Jesus”.

“Hey, you got any money. We need to get a ride back to our hood… Can you give us bus fare…?

That’s when Jesus spoke back up and moved himself between the big kid and myself. The skinny white kid had also picked himself back up and was walking towards the group.

“Jesus” said…” Brother, please put away the knife and let’s talk.”

“Ain’t nothing to talk about. I need to get some money to catch a bus, it’s getting late.”

“It’s never too late to do the right thing.” “Jesus” said.

I began to edge my way away from the group and contemplated seriously whether I could out run these folks.

Urban Evening - Part 1

2009-09-18T04:09:00.001-07:00

It started with my being restless one evening and deciding that I needed to get some air.

I left my apartment and strolled down the street to one of the avenues in this city, the air was crisp and cool. I noted that even after I became an adult, it always seems to be noticeably cooler once school begins in September.

I reached the main avenue and swung right. The foot traffic on the avenue was still fairly heavy despite the late hour. The marquees over the theatres were lit brightly advertising the latest releases that were showing along with the times and matinees that were to be featured on the upcoming weekend.

There were a small group of folks huddled on the corner outside a convenience store’s front. Typical teenage or young adult kids who were enjoying the night air and perhaps being out of earshot of their parents / other friends / teachers / roommates whatever. The topic of conversation apparently was an amusing one because they all seemed to be enjoying a laugh after someone’s story. A couple of the kids had soda bottles in their hands and were swigging from them as they listened. A couple of heads were bobbing to the beat of an unseen boom box.

As I passed this group I spied a cab driver in the next block enjoying a break, leaning up against his cab sipping coffee and smoking. He gave me a nod as I passed and we exchanged pleasantries. The wind had picked up a little and I saw some discarded newspaper that were swirling around over one of the steam grates that were in the sidewalk ahead of me.

After I had walked perhaps three blocks I was approaching the park. I could make out the shadows of some of the statues that stood seemingly as sentries at the corner entrance. It was then that I met him…

He was more than a tad grungy, pushing shopping cart down the path out of the park. It appeared that he was searching the ground for spare change, discarded cans or bottles, or whatever he could find that was of use. When he saw me, he looked up and said “Could you tell me how to get to the waterfront? The docks? I need to catch up with someone…”

I told him that the waterfront was quite a walk but that he was heading in the right direction.

He then added, “I gotta ask them why they did this…” at that point he held up a bloody hand. It appeared that he had a nasty looking cut that ranged from one side of his palm almost to the thumb.

I was startled at the sight of the blood and recoiled visibly from him as he continued to approach me.

“You should seek some medical attention rather than going to the docks.” I offered. “Why don’t you head over to Mercy General in the next two blocks and see if someone can look at that, you might need some stitches…”

“Aw, this ain’t nothin’. They can’t hurt me, I’m Jesus Christ.”

Uh huh, I see I thought. So we might be in need of more than one kind of medical attention here.

“Well, all the more reason you should head over to Mercy General. I know the clergy there and he would be thrilled to meet you.”

“Really, you think…” He grinned. “I’d do that but, I’m really in a hurry. I’m afraid that they would take up too much time. I don’t want to be late.”

“Late? I didn’t know you had an appointment. I thought you were going to just ask them why they attempted to hurt you.”

At no point in this interaction did I feel threatened but that was soon to change.

Elusive Headpin - Part XIII

2009-09-16T03:43:00.001-07:00

“So, it seems that half of us have kept at this and half have not…” Randy stated

“Yep, that certainly seems to be the case. I’m surprised. How do you guys continue to find time for this? My problem with finding any time for recreation is pure logistics.” I commented.

We bowled the first five frames and Ray and Ron carried their respective teammates (Randy and I respectively) so that the score was relatively close. A mere three pins separated the two teams.

In the sixth frame, the roles reversed and the two bowlers that were least practiced took the role of being the lead bowler (first ball shot). Randy threw a shot that skidded off to the left of the headpin and left a 1-3-6-10 fence post for his partner and Ray was equal to that task. My first shot in that sixth frame just missed the head pin but on the right side of the rack leaving 1-2 spare shot that Ron made quick work of.

The seventh was similar and that’s when we started joking about that darn ol’ elusive headpin. Since neither Randy or I could find the pocket leaving a wide selection of sloppy spare shots for their partners.

Going into the tenth frame, we were still three pins apart (Ron and I were leading). Randy started down the approach and much to all of our surprise, threw a beautiful shot that hooked nicely into the pocket yielding a strike. His follow-up to that strike was a solid 9 pin pickup leaving a ten pin for Ray to pick up.

Which meant that we had to at least get a mark in the tenth frame to equal or beat our opponents. I wiped down the ball and tried to focus on at least getting a decent frist shot in. Since it seemed my shots were consistently coming up just shy on the right side of the pocket. I moved over a board and tossed a shot that summarily hooked much to severely picking up only three pins. My partner glared at me because of his always competitive nature he focused and did make a nice recovery picking up the remaining seven pins in a nicely executed shot. He grinned and said “Well, Jim all you have to do is get four pins to tie but, lets try to do a little better than that… k?”

“Sure no prob…” although I had no idea where these shots were likely to end up nor would I be banking on my ability to actually pick up those four pins on demand.

As I stepped up onto the approach, I tried to clear my head and focus on my “normal” sites on the lanes. I began to make my approach but, a little girl that was bowling in the adjacent lane took that opportunity to fall down dropping her ball onto the approach with a loud thud just to my left and slightly out of my peripheral vision. I stopped my legs but had difficulty actually stopping the forward action of my arm and let go of my ball several feet in front of the foul line and at a much slower pace than I would ever had done had no distraction took place.

We all could only stand and watch as my ball slowly rolled down over the second to last arrow on the right. It rolled pretty straight but casually looked like it might be veering off slightly to the right (which was a very bad thing indeed). As the ball reached the pins the only question was would it get four pins (or less). Unfortunately, it was less. The shot only yielded two pins. The final score showed that Ron and I lost by a mere two pins.

Ron scolded me and said that I should have stopped completely once the distraction took place and started over.

“Yeah, well it’s only a game…” I commented. That went over well…

Our old friends basically had a good laugh at my expense.

Rant 2

2009-09-14T03:33:00.001-07:00

Well we’ve seen this before. It seems that the whole debate regarding universal health care is being resisted based on a lot of fear.

Fear of the cost
Fear of the “government gettin’ into our bizness”
Fear of losing the coverage I have
Fear of death panels
Fear of change

How about simply focusing on why the US is ranked 37th in the world in their health care system (last WHO report)? We are ranked one slot below Costa Rica, seven slots lower than Canada and a full 10 slots below the United Arab Emirates.

I have an idea. Why don’t we attempt to emulate programs like those found in France, Italy, Spain (ranked 1st, 2nd, and 7th respectively) according to the last ranking by the World Health Organization. Despite our health system being the most costly, we fail to score high on performance based on access, equity and health outcomes because we fail to find some way to offer a universal health care option for it’s populace.

In a study done by The Commonwealth Fund (www.commonwealthfund.org)…” Among the six nations studied – Australia, Canada, Germany, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and the United States – The US ranks last, as it did in the 2006 and 2004 editions of “Mirror, Mirror”. Most troubling, the US fails to achieve better health outcomes than the other countries, as shown in the earlier editions (of the study), the US is last on dimensions of access, patient safety, efficiency, and equity.

With the inclusion of physician survey data in the analysis, it is also apparent that the US is lagging in adoption of Information Technology and national policies that promote quality improvement.

I think rather than fear mongering and catering to special interests, we should approach this subject with an open mind with the ultimate goal of helping all persons in the country by developing a framework that assists (rather than hinders) access while driving down costs.

This is one of the few developed countries that almost penalizes a potential patient if they have the audacity to get sick or injured during “off-hours”, on a weekend or holiday. Because doing so almost guarantees that they will receive substandard treatment based on the staffing and ability to get procedures “pre-approved” and other “managed care processes” completed.

Wake up folks. This is an issue. It won’t “go away” and will affect all folks regardless of social stature or economic standing. A solution needs to be developed and endorsed by the people and our legislators. We can’t wait for the medical industry to endorse anything as they obviously have benefited by the present “pay as you go piece-meal” system in place today.
The reason Medicare works is that there is perhaps a 3.5% surcharge on base medical costs for the purpose of administration. In comparison, standard healthcare provided through Insurance companies yields a much higher administration fee… (some estimates I’ve seen put it in the 10% - 15% range). This is huge and adds no discernable value to the process or the service.

Their needs to be public option in any “reform” that Washington considers. I only hope that the message isn’t blunted by self-serving bureaucrats in an attempt to maintain the status quo.

Exercise 1

2009-09-12T05:27:00.001-07:00

A Start

Waking to baking going on in the kitchen.
Smells that tell of homemade bread in the oven
Sounds I’ve found are portending bacon in the frying pan
Feels like it’s really time to be getting up
I see that we are about to have breakfast
A taste of less haste would be a welcome beginning to the day.

Close your eyes

Close your eyes and feel the keys beneath your fingers. Let ‘em stray where they will. Let them say what they can. I’m trying to let the flow not be a foe. Become a thing that is organic and not planned.

It surely seems like a touch typist would have a better time of this than I…

I think of times long past and find myself pining for the simplicity but not the limitations that those times presented.

Whrrrr, click, buzz and bump.

Run and scream and skip and jump

This is fun and scary. I’m not sure I’m being entirely true to the exercise but at least I’m attempting to follow the spirit of the exercise..

Where do you think this will lead?

Staring at the white wall. I need to keep my back straight and the thoughts pure.

I just need to keep plodding along.

9/11 - Remembered

2009-09-11T06:43:00.001-07:00

It’s hard to believe that eight years has past since that fateful day. I still recall the horror and the feeling of helplessness as the world watched what transpired in New York City, Washington, and Pennsylvania.

I was actually traveling that week and was in Washington attending a training class that day a few miles from the Pentagon. It was during a break in the class that someone said, “Hey look at this!”. They had surfed to a site that had pictures of the first plane hitting the twin towers. At that point, it appeared to be only a horrid accident. Within minutes though we heard of the second plane into the World Trade Center and then the plane crashing into the Pentagon a few miles away. We knew then that these couldn’t be mere accidents. That awful realization drummed up a singular feeling of dread that we all shared, tasted and had to react to.

The training class I was in was summarily dismissed with the message “It might be canceled altogether but, please access this web site this evening for more information”. At that point, the class was certainly the furthest thing from our minds…as the first tower fell.

The traffic in and around Washington DC became an almost instant snarl. Every major artery was filled with cars trying to get out of the Washington DC metro area. Back to loved ones, to safety… just away.

I had no means to immediately get mobile. Nor did I have any inclination to do so. Like many other folks in that situation, I spent the rest of that day in a hotel bar staring at CNN, watching the next tower fall and hearing of all the other related activities that were transpiring around the country.

Surely this was something that would not go unanswered. We needed / wanted to know who was responsible and who were are adversaries. The term “Terrorist” wasn’t something we were used to discussing on American soil. The news agencies reminded us of the bombing at the world trade center back in the early 1990’s. I had forgotten that incident, (almost) this was surely something we all would never forget.

In all, I’m told that just shy of 3,000 people last their lives that day including the 19 hijackers. This is a staggering one day death toll regardless of circumstances but, even more galling because of the manner and targets chosen for this attack. In the days, weeks and months to come we would become very acquainted with the Al-Qaeda terrorist organization which have become the boogyman in this episode. The quest to find their leader, Osama bin Laden, and bringing him to face the charges for this attack became synonymous with reasons to go to war with Iraq/Afghanistan and the beginnings of the “War on Teror” which we are still embroiled with today.

We shall never forget this event or the way it has shaped the balance of the past decade. It has surely changed the way we look upon much of our daily lives and the way we view the world.

Rant 1

2009-09-10T05:21:00.000-07:00

There are many challenges for mankind in the future. The hopes and aspirations of the “hippie generation” have all but become dust but, there are still some of us who cling tightly to those ideals. The hope that man would evolve to the point of knowing they no longer needed to rely on borders and governments, laws (other than those opposed on us by nature) are irrelevant.

War is obsolete. The military continues to speak in terms of “winning” a war. There are no winners in war, just varying degrees of losers. The biggest losers are the ones who are forced (or conned) into fighting for something they don’t believe in. It is my belief that someday, mankind will recognize the futility in this activity and just give it up…

We could be spending all that effort, all the money and resources, devoted to destroying and apply it towards building. Building new medicines, feeding the hungry, in short taking care of one another. Only then can we truly achieve peace.

Testing... This is only a test

2009-09-08T03:19:00.001-07:00

Fear and loathing, guilt and fun, like and peace, damn you son.

I can’t seem to get this going.

It doesn’t seem like that is fair

What I’m saying is what we aren’t
And what I’m trying is surely not art.

Sheez, this is great, edit it ain’t. How hard can the movies really be?

Don’t read what you are writing, don’t listen to what you hear,

Don’t give credence to the shouting, don’t give in to your fears.

This is an interesting outcome for sure.

If this had been an actual life, you would have been given specific instructions on how to deal with it.

This is only a test.

Elusive Headpin - Part XII

2009-09-06T11:15:00.001-07:00

We arrived at the bowling alley and my first impression was that it surely had changed. It looked like the parking lot hadn’t been redone since the last time I set foot on that property 25 years ago. The exterior of the building itself showed a fair amount of paint chipping and appeared that the new owners hadn’t even bothered to paint over some of the graffiti on the rear of the building.

The old snack bar looked intact but it did appear that they had reworked the front desk. A more modern looking system was in place with automatic scorekeeping equipment deployed in each of the lanes. I thought back to all the fun discussions around checking the score sheets because they were always done “by hand” and subject to human foibles.

Other than the newer technology installed within the playing areas and at the front desk, the rest of the interior portion f the building looked much the same as I remembered it. As usual I was the first to arrive so, I basically got us a couple of lanes and began to change shoes and get ready for the rest of the group to arrive. I also took the liberty of walking into the bar and purchased a pitcher of whatever they had on tap. I typically did not like cheap draft beer but, made an exception to our past and the local circumstance in this situation.

As I was tossing a couple of practice shots and feeling the rust from not having bowled in about eight years, the first of my party showed up. I gave a nod and a wave to Ron as he came in from the sunshine into the dim lighting of the alley neon. By my third toss, I had at least worked out some of the rust from my foot work, the shots were poor (to say the least) but I hoped that this too would come along with a few more repetitions.

Ron quickly joined me and started in at the beer. He began bowling on the lane next to mine. He had thrown only two shots but, both of them were strikes. He looked over at me with that goofy grin and stated. “You still have a problem finding that pocket aren’t you…?”

“I haven’t tossed this thing in eight years.”

“Doesn’t matter, you never cold match my first ball skills…” He chided

“Is that what you call it…?” I countered.

Our banter was interrupted by the almost simultaneous arrival of our last two former team mates. Randy and Raymond both arrived entering from opposite sides of the building. They made short work of getting their shoes and balls polished and prepared for some friendly competition.

Randy suggested that the first games be a Scotch Double match. In a Scotch Doubles game, each partner would take turns with one player tossing the first shot of a frame with his teammate picking up spares for the first five frames of the game and then switching roles for the second five frames of the games.

We had compared notes and it seemed that both Raymond and Ron had been bowling regularly in the past few years. Randy stated that he hadn’t bowled in about five years. My absence of eight years being the biggest handicap.

Elusive Headpin - Part XI

2009-09-02T03:44:00.001-07:00

I awoke the next day thinking a tad disoriented. As I was sorting through the images and sounds that were part of my Sister’s house, I thought for a time that I might have imagined much of the encounter with Lisa and Josephine the night before.

I thought of what she (and her daughter) must have been going through at the wake the night before. The fact the four of us showed up had to also bring back some uncomfortable memories of choices long past. I was glad that she had reconciled with her daughter and that they seemed to be on their way to building a relationship. I hoped that, in time, they would be able to make up for some lost opportunities.

True to my word, I said nothing of what I had come to know of Lisa’s past dealings with Joe. The ceremony was brief but respectful. It seemed Lisa was content to stay in the background for the services and allowed Joe’s only living sibling to be the center of attention. I wondered (but dared not ask) how Josephine felt about that decision. It was her Dad we were burying and only she, her mom and I knew this.

We had the customary after services diner gathering with friends and family which was hosted at a nearby VFW hall. It was well attended but brief and the group was in the process of disbanding. I noticed that Lisa and Josephine were absent from this portion of the ritual. I assumed they had returned home (and at that point I realized I didn’t know where “home” was for them) after the services at the graveyard.

I took this opportunity to reunite again with my former bowling team mates.

“Yo Randy. What are your plans with the rest of the day?”

“I didn’t have any really.” He replied. “I guess I was going to mosey on back to Connecticut…”

“Hmm… To hearth and home…”

“Yeah.”

“I was wondering if we could get the group to head back over to the bowling alley in Mabbetsville.”

“I’m game… is it still there?”

“Yep… still there but somewhat run down from our last image of it … I’m told.”

I moved from the captain over to Raymond and Ron.

“Hey guys. Randy and I are going to head back over to Mabbetsville to check out the old bowling alley. You guys up for a little side trip?”

They looked at one another. I saw Ron sigh briefly but, I received two nods from them.

“Good. I’ll see you folks over there”.

I then went over to bid our host a final adieu and extend my condolences once again. I then headed out to the parking lot, jumped into the truck and headed out to our old haunt.

I patted my old bowling ball which I had strapped into the passenger seat when I left home in Schenectady.

Elusive Headpin - Part X

2009-08-31T03:34:00.001-07:00

Walking into the Triangle Diner in my old hometown was taking a step back in time for me. In my youth, this was a standard late night meeting place, a place where we could seek out refuge from our family lives and bond in those late night, teenage, sowing wild seeds mode that we all pass through during adolescence. I recall many a night grabbing a bite to eat here after carousing in some tavern or party before I had to go home and face the parental units.

This evening though my thoughts were of my former bowling buddies and the friends that we had gotten reacquainted with this evening. I took a familiar position at the counter but glanced over at the one table that was occupied to spy Lisa Hayes and her younger female companion. Surprised but also wanting to pick up on the conversation that was abruptly ended at the funeral home, I wandered over to the table.

Lisa seemed somewhat uncomfortable but, shrugged when I wordlessly asked if I could join them. I sat down and for the first time took a longer look at Lisa’s companion. She was pleasant looking young lady who appeared to carry herself well. She also wore a somber looking dark dress with short sleeves. Her expression mimicked Lisa’s in a slight degree of discomfort at my presence.

We chatted for a couple of minutes and I told Lisa that the rest of the team had shown up and that several of the members had asked about her. I was curious as to whether she was planning on attending the services tomorrow. She indicated that she was likely going to do that but that she was also planning on leaving shortly thereafter. She sited some pending commitment and then slipped saying that her daughter (making a nod towards her young companion) needed to be getting back to college.

“Daughter?”

“I’m sorry, I should have introduced you. This is my Josephine.”

“Very nice to meet you Josephine…” I thought there was some family resemblance (this certainly cleared up some of the mystery in my mind).

“So your married?”

“No. Her dad and I never married…”

I’m a little thick in some instances but a revelation suddenly occurred to me.

“Was Joe her dad?”

She sighed but indicated with another nod that this was true.

“Oh… I see. Gee I never knew that. I mean I knew that you folks had a relationship in that summer before Joe left for the Army but…”

I paused because I was doing some mental arithmetic and I deduced that if Josephine was the product of their brief romance prior to Joe leaving for the Army that the young woman should be about ten years older than she appeared to be.

Lisa seemed to read my thoughts when she spoke next. “Joe and I had one of those off again/ on again romances over the course of the last thirty plus years. I don’t know as if either one of us ever really wanted to settle down.”

“Gee I’m terribly sorry. I had no idea that you two were that close or that the relationship had extended beyond that long ago summer.”

Turning towards Josephine I added, “I wasn’t a really close friend of your Dad’s but I do know he was a good and decent man.”

“He was…” She said. “I lived with him up until I left for college. I chose a college that put me in close proximity to my Mom a little over a year ago. I wanted to get to know her better…”

“I see”… My head now was swimming a little with all of these new details.

Lisa spoke. “ Please don’t add to the rumor mill. I had a really rough time after Joe left for the Army. He was a tough guy to get close to but I knew we had something that I didn’t want to let go of.

We got back together whenever he came stateside over the next few years and when Jo was born Joe offered to raise her. I had no funds and I’m afraid I was ill equipped to be a Mom at that point in my life. I’m trying to make up for that now.”

“Lisa, I… don’t know what to say. I’m certainly willing to help…If there is anything I can do.”

“You’re sweet but I think we have things well in hand now…” She grinned and glancing up at her daughter they seemed to share a knowing smile. I can only surmise that they had made their peace with one another and that I’m sure they were resolved to help each other through this tough time.

I stammered out a repeat of my offer to help if needed and then took my leave of the two women to proceed to my sister’s house that evening and some rest.

Elusive Headpin - Part IX

2009-08-29T09:15:00.000-07:00

“Ron… How’ve ya been man… still running letters for the USPS?” I stated as I approached my former doubles partner with an outstretched hand.

“Nah… that never panned out. I got a job working in a warehouse for the Shop-Mart folks. It’s actually been pretty good. I have more standard hours now.” He replied.

“Well, it looks like the gang’s all here.” I heard Raymond state behind me.

“Randy! Hey Cap…long time no see…” Commented Ron.

Randy moved forward slowly but with a wide grin on his face… “Yeah, too long kiddo…”

We gabbed over inane topics for a few minutes and in that time frame I almost completely forgot the forum or the reason we were all gathered. That reverie was shattered when Joe’s sister arrived.

I never really knew Joe’s sister but, I gathered it must be her as the room seemed to quiet down rather suddenly. We watched as the only blood relative of our newly departed comrade walked into the room. Sharon Burke had never married and was five years Joe’s senior. She wandered in with a stoic look on her face wearing a simple black dress and her pulled back away from her face. She appeared to be much older than I think she was. She moved quite easily and acknowledged familiar faces with a brave smile, a nod and some brief words as she made her way to her brother’s casket in the front of the room.

I scanned the room at that time looking for Lisa again but, I guess she must have left already.

“Hey Ron, did you see Lisa Howe as you came in?”

“No… Lisa was here?”

“Yeah, I was talking to her when you showed up and then she must have slipped out as I was doubling back over to you guys.”

“Shoot. How’d she look? Is she staying in town? What has she been up to?”

“Whoa, whoa there big fella… I didn’t gather much info. We only talked for less than a couple of minutes. I have no idea where she’s staying, or living, or what’s she been up to. I was surprised to see her too.”

“How’d she look?”

“Great. She certainly seems to have weathered the years well. She had a younger woman with her that I didn’t get introduced to. I don’t know if she was a relative or friend.”

“Hmmm. That’s too bad, I would have loved to see her again.”

“Well maybe she will show up at the service tomorrow…” I offered.

The rest of the evening was a bit of a bore. We hung around for another half hour or so and then slowly the crowded trickled out. I made my over to Sharon and offered my condolences and conveyed the usual words of encouragement and we shared the only real story I could remember of Joe in high school.

We all checked with one another before taking our separate paths to hotels, friend’s houses or where ever we were spending the night and committed to a brief breakfast tomorrow morning at the local greasy spoon before proceeding to the church for the services and the ride out to the cemetery.

I drove through the streets of my old home town marveling at some of the changes that I hadn’t seen and reminiscing about times past as I made my way out to the edge of town and my sister’s house where I had planned to bunk down for the night.

As I passed the Triangle Diner where we had agreed to meet in the morning, I saw that they were still open and decided to have a cup of coffee before and some alone time there before ending the night.

As I approached the door, I could see that there was only one booth being occupied in the diner by customers. I saw two blond head’s over the top of the aqua marine vinyl top of the seats. There was something about the mannerisms of one of the two women there that looked familiar somehow…