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More On The War

“White machine sparked in sudden waves that night.
Blood moved quickly through the veins
like water flooding through a tight channel,
eventually emptying,
and flowing into a much larger sea.

White powder changes into tiny submarines
that surge throughout the system
sending depth charges
to form beautiful explosions
which triggered the avalanche
that tingled down our spine.

And so it began . . .”

The beginning was like a feeding frenzy. After the trip in to make the exchange, and after the silly rituals we had while driving home to the safety of our suburban town, we drove back from the rundown brownstones, and corner bodega stores in places like East New York Brooklyn to get our minds right. Heading back to our own territory to find someplace where we could set aside the concerned tension; we found ourselves eagerly awaiting the first hit.

These were the tools for the night:
A clean, clear glass tube, also known as a “Stem,” came with a series of screens folded in and stuffed at the mouth of the Continue reading →

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From The Daddy Diaries

When I was a young, The Old Man used to try and set me straight. He would explain the way life works and the way a man should and should not behave. Then The Old Man would tell me, “You’ll understand more when you get older.”
I always wondered when this would be. When does the great so-called revelation take place? Or is there even such a thing? I always assumed getting older was a relative term. I was older, but older in my case did not mean enlightened.

Ten years back, I stood on a line in a delicatessen. My daughter was two years old. Her blonde hair was short and curly. Her words were few. She was so small and fit perfectly in my arms. She played with her tea set. My daughter played with her dolls. She especially loved all of the Disney princess characters.

On a nice warm day, I took my little girl to the playground behind Barnum Woods Elementary school. This was a place that I used to go to when I was very young. The playground has change since Continue reading →

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A Day in The Life

It is strange to remember so far back when the world was different. The teenage years and its memories seem to blur with the interference of time and age. I was so young . The world was ahead of me. I was frightened, yes, but I was still so absolutely resilient.

The Old house on Merrick Avenue is also lifetimes away from me. And my old upstairs bedroom; I remember the sliding doors at my closet, the dark hardwood flooring, the hiding spots behind my desk, my stereo and television, the black-light posters on the wall, the trippy colored lamps that flashed light around my room at night, not to mention, the secret hole in the wall that no one knew about. All of this was so long ago.

I used to climb out my side window, which led Continue reading →

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Surviving Depression 101

I was alone. I lost most of what I thought was valuable. All that remained seemed to be cheap and falling apart. My bank account was on its way to empty. My credit score was losing to the drain of divorce and the expenses of a life and its cost. I had a small apartment that was at the edge of the town where I grew up.

It was fitting that I moved back to my old hometown. The neighborhood was familiar and comfortable. I knew the streets and the streets knew me as well. I returned to submerge myself in the anonymity of my quiet homecoming without judgment. Those that knew me in my troubled youth did not recognize me in adulthood.

The remnants of my Continue reading →

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Here on Project Earth

Evening Rush Hour:

I sat in a window seat on Short-Line bus out of New York City’s Port Authority Bus Station. Slowly, one by one, passengers boarded the bus.
Some were headed home after a long day’s work. Others were homeward bound after a playful day in the city.
Each passenger that climbed aboard, either male or female, scanned the possible seating arrangements on the bus. Each one climbed up the steps and began to make their way down the aisle between the two, side by side seats.
The choice of seating is either an aisle or window seat. As for me, I prefer the window. I enjoy watching the city lights disappear into distance. I like watching the changes in landscape from city to suburb. The sky above Continue reading →

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The War on Drugs

 

I read a headline that said the President was going to address the drug epidemic. After years of sobriety and the experience of my own struggle, when it comes to the subject of addiction, there are two kinds of people in this world. There are those that understand and those that will never understand. The line between the two is definite and clear.

Keep in mind, the addict is not specific. There are different types of addicts, which vary, depending upon the drug of choice or method of consumption. The world of addiction is made up of all sorts. It is not limited to race, creed, or sexual orientation. Drug addiction does not discriminate. Whether the Continue reading →

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Insomnia Poetry

I call this venting in different verses

1)

I am more impressed with your fascination
of what I already knew
than the lessons you try to teach me

I feel this shows a real version of who you are

And yet . . . here you are
Preaching to the choir to hear yourself speak,
and not once have you shared your thoughts
on how life has graced you,
one minute at a time.

You pulled a trick, though.
I’ll admit it.
The Continue reading →

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Easter Morning 2016

Sometimes I field questions about my faith. There are certainly points out there which make me question what my believe heart believes to be true. There are times when the mind overwhelms the heart. I lose my sight. And by sight, I do not mean that I cannot see. I can see all too clearly, which is distracting, because I misread and miscalculate the information around me.

I have mentioned to you before Continue reading →

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A Night Near 23rd Street

I sat in a small room with a nurse and a man standing in front of me with a white jacket and a stethoscope around his neck. The office was like any office inside a hospital or institution. There was a desk in the middle of the room. There was a machine that takes blood pressure. There were small cardboard boxes with tongue depressors, plastic guards for the metal thermometer they stick in your mouth, and a box with rubber surgical gloves.
Overhead, the fluorescent lights hummed in the Continue reading →

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Letters From A Son

3/15/2016

If I told you about all that went on, you would never believe the things that happened since I saw you last. So much has changed since the days when we lived at 277 Merrick Avenue. First and foremost, I no longer drag my feet when I walk. I open my mouth when I speak instead speaking through my teeth. I keep my hair short. I read a lot. I write a lot too. Most that knew me then never seem to recognize me now. And that is a good thing. It means they never really knew me.

The world is so much bigger now than it was then. A lot has gone on locally and globally. Locally, everything is different. With the exception of a few  face-lifts and new construction—almost everything looks the same. The streets are still named the same. Stores are different now and most of the ones you would remember are long since gone. The spirit is gone now. The sense of civic responsibility is different. No one seems to care and everyone wants something for nothing. The dignity is gone. The value of a man’s word is no longer the value of a man’s word. We are losing more to the generations of access. Everybody wants but nobody wants to give.You can see it in the decline of our society. We are no longer civilized, Pop. Our communities argue about everything but they do nothing.

During my last drive through our old town, I passed by the schools. They used to look so big to me. They seem so much smaller now. I suppose the elementary school, the junior high and the high school were so big because I was so young and small. Or maybe the schools appear smaller because they no longer intimidate me. This proves something. This proves I have grown. It proves that I am not a small boy anymore. This also proves that I am capable now. I was capable then too but I was too insecure and intimidated to know it.

I know this bothered you. This bothered you the same way I dragged my feet when I walked and spoke through my teeth bothered you. I still struggle sometimes. I tend to feel small when I believe the old lies from when I was a kid.

Globally, the world is still as big as it was. However, I am learning more and more that we as humans are infinitely small and getting smaller by the day. Perhaps not in size, but with all the world’s advanced technology and know-how, we are socially and economically heading in a downward spiral. To tell the truth, it scares me. I wonder about the problems tomorrow will inherit.

I was thinking about the old VCR in the den. You remember? I was thinking about the time I tried to teach you how to use it. If you thought technology was difficult then—you should see it now. We have cell phones now. Everyone—and I do mean everyone—has a cell phone. Even homeless people have cell phones. I’ve seen it. Last I saw you, we barely had car phones.

The computer world grew to be more than you ever dreamed it could be. I did my Christmas shopping without leaving the house this year. Everything happens with the click of a button now. Shopping like this seems less personal though. I find that part a little sad. I sort of miss the way a sales girl smiled when I paid for my gifts. I think it added to the spirit of the holidays. It added to the excitement of exchanging gifts. I can’t say I miss the crowds. And I can’t say I mind the convenience of pushing a button and all my shopping is finished. I can only say I miss when the world seemed a bit slower and friendlier.

Technology is lightning fast—except for checkout lines at the supermarket. Checking out at the registers with a credit card has become a 10-step process. If I remember correctly, back when I saw you last, credit card purchases were still giving carbon paper receipts.

I have moved since the days on Merrick Ave. I lived in Garden City. I lived in a studio in Maspeth Queens with a girl. The studio was a basement apartment in a house that was owned by the girl’s family. I moved back to Garden City after an embarrassing phone bill accidentally went to my girlfriend’s mother instead of a separate bill that was supposed to come to me. I suppose an 800 number that translated to 1-8oo-FAT-GIRL was somewhat of a deal breaker in this case.

I tell you love is a strange and elusive thing. I never felt it or knew what it was until I was much older. I had to fall a few times before I knew what it meant to stand.  I had to be brave before I understood what I was afraid of. Also, I needed to see beauty to understand what it truly means to feel alive. And I’m alive now, Pop.
I really am.

Like you, I had to go through downfalls. I still make my mistakes. I have mood swings. I feel frustrated more often than not. In my own madness, I reach a point where I want to run away. That’s the funny thing, Pop, I want to run away more now as an adult than I ever did as a kid.

I moved away from the old town a few months back. I moved to a place away from all those yesterdays and the memories I could never seem to shake. I have a mountain in my backyard. I have deer walking through my property. I have skylights on the roof and a room at the top of the house I call, “The Writing Loft.”

There’s an old cemetery across the street that dates back to the late 1700’s. The street is a quietly long, winding road, paved with blacktop and yellow double lines running down the center. I have my share of evergreen trees and a few maples on my property. I have a spreading maple near my front door, a U-shaped driveway with a mailbox at the entryway. I have a small windmill over the spot where my well-water comes from. I have a few special rocks placed around the property—an old slice of petrified wood from the Petrified Forest and a limb from a tree that dates back for more than 100 years.

I have people in my life that I wish you could meet. I have things I wish you could read and stories I would love to share with you. I have a shaven head after a charity event I ran with one of my oldest friends. He and I go back to grade school together.

Do you remember that time you told me how painful it was to watch me live the way I was? Do you remember that day on the boat? You told me it would be easier if I died than to watch me slowly kill myself. It seems unfair that you never had the chance to see me as I am now.

If I told you about all that went on, you would never believe the things that happened since I saw you last. But something tells me you wouldn’t be surprised. Something tells me you would tell me, “I always said you could do anything you want to do.” You would tell me, “You could have been anything you wanted to be. You just had to set your mind to it.”

I did something with myself Pop. I just wish you were here with me to see it. I wish you were here with me to work the smoker when we have barbecues in my backyard. I wish you were here to sit on the deck with me and look at the mountains. We could talk about the days we went fishing or the time I caught my first flounder at Shinnecock Canal. You could tell me stories about the old wooden lobster boat and the days you took it out from the piers in City Island.

I wish you were here to help when Mom passed. At least she’s with you now. She missed you something awful.  I’ll have her grave completed in June. After that, I won’t go back to the cemetery anymore. I don’t like it there. The cemetery is where dead people live. The cemetery is where people go to say goodbye. I can’t do that.

There is more I need to say to you Pop.
I guess I’ll have to say it when I see you again . . .

Whenever that may be.

See you later, Pop,

I love you!

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