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From The Book of Firsts

My First Event

I walked through the glossy wooded front door that was set in a gray stoned wall. I was greeted with a smile by a tall, bald headed bouncer with no neck, hefty arms and a chub-face. He was an over sized Irishman in a black shirt with the word “Staff” printed in white lettering across the left side of the chest. “ID please,” asked the bouncer. This was nice because after we break the 40 year age barrier, it is good to be carded at the door of a bar and made to prove that you are in fact over the age of 21.

I was given a band to wrap around my wrist and a red ticket with the actual word, “Ticket” on it, which was printed in black lettering with a random number across the top and bottom edge of the serrated ticket. Continue reading →

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Dear Mom,

I think the times I realize you most are the long quiet drives home while stuck in traffic after a Saturday morning overtime shift. I think about all that goes on in my daily life and all that I am working through. I think about the house, the mortgage, and the bills that come along with it.  Then I think about how wild it is to realize that I am an adult. I’m a grownup husband and a dad.

I remember back when I was a young boy and The Old Man Continue reading →

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From Bedtime Stories for the Insomniac

Youth

It was Monday morning and my body smelled from the residue of my weekend. I arrived at work nearly on time. My suit, shirt, and necktie were not well coordinated. My hair was slightly long and slicked back behind my ears with an excessive glob of hair gel. I appeared messily and unkempt. My eyes were red from the lack of sleep and my need for rest was the result of young foolishness.

After a long night out, which I swore would end early; I found myself walking through the front door of my home and into my bedroom. By the time I was undressed, I was able to fall on my bed with only two hours before my alarm rang to wake me the next morning. In my early Continue reading →

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Sessions From The Balcony: Passed the Hampton Docks

I drove farther east from Westhampton until the south fork of the Long Island narrowed further and almost to its point. The sky had already begun to transition from night into morning. I could hear the sound of a silent car ride; the pavement moving beneath the four wheels of my car, which was a junked blue, four-door Chevy that was neglected and beaten over the years. The cloth interior had its share of stains and cigarette burns in both front and back seats. The headliner above my head drooped down, sagging like a bubble because the fabric loosened from the roof’s interior. 

The car rumbled loudly. The deep gurgle from the engine knocked with a slight tinny sound, which perhaps meant that my beat-up four-door was near the end of its road. The odometer stopped well over 100,000 miles; the windows rolled up and down manually and the radio was equipped with an outdated, non-working tape cassette player.  Continue reading →

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The Proposal

He stood in front if the mirror to practice his speech. He stared at his own reflection, staring an intense stare into the mirror, looking at himself to shake away the nerves. He was  a man in love. Before each rehearsal, he exhaled strongly through clinched lips, rounded as if he could whistle instead of exhale. He directed himself into action and then he preformed. Continue reading →

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From The Book of Firsts: The Snow

Saturday morning, January 23, 2016

This is my first snow storm living where I am in the mountains. The conditions on Spook Rock are as follows; winds are coming in from the northeast at 16mph with intervals of heavier gusts. Small snowflakes are coming down on an angle and moving quickly. Visibility is .3 miles and the streets are mainly white. As of now, I only have a few inches of snow. The weatherman and all of his friends told us to prepare for more than 12.

The old headstones in the cemetery at Wesley Chapel are laced with snow. Some of the older and smaller headstones will be buried in white before too long. The sky is a soft shade of pale gray. The cloud conditions are too thick for me to see the Harriman Mountain behind my house. The tall evergreens are the only color in an otherwise gray scenery. The evergreen branches look like outstretched arms with snow resting on them from the fingertips up to the biceps. Continue reading →

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From Bedtime Stories For The Insomniac

A Way To Play

I am alone, thinking, and sitting in the kind of quiet that makes my eardrums ring because there is nothing else to hear. In times like this, I realize that even silence comes with sound. In the quietest of times and in the absence of others, I can hear nothing but the high-pitched tone of an empty room.

I guess I might as well write about something . . .

Melany came  through the Continue reading →

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Reflection in the Rain

Heavy rain falls in waves upon the roof of my house. I swear this sound is the opposite of an alarm clock. Teams of raindrops run down my rooftop like little footsteps running in big gymnasium. The dull roar of this pitter pattering on my roof, the chattering raindrops that hit my skylight above my head, and the droplets of rainwater that roll down the bay window in my loft; the view outside—the gray sky, the hardly swaying tree branches that move in a gentle rainy wind and the empty street known as Spook Rock are all so peaceful and quiet.

Today is Sunday.

The rain changes intensity and Continue reading →

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Friendship

I cannot say how friendships begin. I know they begin at early ages. They begin in classrooms and schoolyards. I am not how friendships take form, or why they can change almost suddenly, and those that we were so close to us are more distant than the deepest past.

Life evolves. I know this.  And we evolve as well. I know this too, We either grow or stay the same. And when,  or should I say if we grow, a piece of us remains as we were in the heart of someone we shared time with. To someone, we will always be that kid in the playground. To someone, I will always be that kid in a classroom, or that short little kid that lived down the street from the baseball fields on Merrick Avenue. To some from my childhood, I will be referred to as Benjy. Some call me Benny and most from my adulthood will call me Ben.

I know there is something more cosmic to this thing we call friendship. There has to be. I believe this is why we meet; we meet for a reason. It is fate, I say. It is a slot we fill for either a temporary or long-term commitment. And that is Continue reading →