Entry#1

After 400 entries, I decided to start a new journal.
This entry is my first…..
I remove myself from everything I have written before, and though I may repeat my subjects, I will strive to be different.
After all, this is my commitment.
I made a commitment to write one piece each day about my journey in life, but since my life continuously changes, then so should my journals.

There is a house in a nearby town that people have been visiting for decades. This house is not like any other on its block. It is called the Satan House because of its evil appearance. The front is surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. The sidewalk is painted red, as if to be soaked in blood, and candles flicker in the window.

The house is large, or at least larger than the other homes beside it, and the red siding blends with a castle-like appearance and steeple-type windows.
And in true, fitting style, there used to be a black hearse parked inside the gated driveway.
The neighboring homes look nothing like this. They are all well-kept with pretty landscaping, and manicured lawns. I suppose they could live without the attention of unwanted visitors, driving passed, and trying to take photographs.

The rumors about the Satan House have stretched throughout Long Island.
Ask, and someone will know about it, or have a story from when they passed by.

My story is this; I was 15 when I saw the house for the first time. We drove up, we laughed at the eerie looking home, and then we drove away.  The Satan House became an adventure, or destination, after getting high.
One night, A buddy of mine shit on the front step for $20.
I assume things like this happened often because the house eventually installed surveillance cameras.

26 years later, the house still looks as it does when I was 15. The sidewalk is still painted red and so is the walkway that leads up to the door. The rumor factory is still at work and the gossip mills continue to churn out stories of the strange looking home.
I assume the neighbors are just as troubled with the curious visitors as they were when I was a kid. I am sure some of the homeowners moved away and new ones have come, but the Devil house remains unchanged….

I spent an uninterrupted weekend with my daughter. We went to one of her favorite places for dinner. We went to the stores and added to our collection for this year’s Christmas decorations.
She picked out a small white tree for her room, and along with my wife, the two decorated the tree and strung lights around the imitation branches.

However, Sunday needed a new adventure. My daughter asked, “How about we go to All-American Burger?”
All-American Burger is a local and household favorite.
“Sounds good to me,” I said.  “All in favor?” and the vote was unanimous.

We piled into the car and talked about the food we planned to order.
“I want a cheeseburger with fries,” said my daughter.
“I want a quarter-pound cheeseburger, fries, a knish sliced open with mustard and sauerkraut, and a chocolate shake,” said my wife
Then it was my turn. “I’m getting a double quarter-pound cheeseburger, fries, onion rings, a knish split open with mustard and sauerkraut, and a hot dog with mustard, ketchup, and sauerkraut.”

The idea was good, but we needed more. We needed something to make our trip to All-American Burger an adventure. And while drooling over the food we planned to eat, the idea came to me.
I had spoken about the Satan House before. I never told my daughter about the friend who shit on the front step, but I did tell her some of the more mild stories.

On our way home with bags of fries, onion rings, burgers and more, I turned around and asked, “Do you want to find the Satan House?”
As a dad and husband, there is nothing like seeing your family’s eyes light up. It was something to do, and it was a way to share some of my crazy youth with my family.

We made the turn onto the street…. “Here it comes,” I said
“It’s going to be on the left side.”

Being a homeowner and slightly more mature than I used to be, we only passed The Satan house twice. I allowed my daughter to take a picture, and then we drove home.
On the way, my little girl asked, “Daddy, how old were you when you first saw that house?”
“I must have been around 15.”
Then she commented, “Wow, that house has been around for a long, long time.”

“Gee, thanks kid!”

I write this, not to detail a weekend road trip to a local burger joint. Instead, I submit that life is in fact an adventure.
The best thing to do on this journey is to be well fed and always keep it interesting….