Archive for the ‘seasons’ Category

A Night at the Circus

Wednesday, July 20th, 2011

Route 76, Somewhere in Pennsylvania, daybreak.


Let’s walk into the dark fields of uncut grass. Into the heart of America, the midwest laughter and red white and blue explosions in the sky. Feeling the immediate sowing of a yellow hook moon in my heart. Another journal into the depths of space. The ending of the pain from my headaches….( a blood pressure concern)
I’m in the wrong century again, damn it! I miss the sepia skies and the angles singing. The black and white streets, crowds of busy people and the gaslights glow.

Dark pub and a lost soul from the future.

This is where I met him many years ago. A disco in the seventies. The drinking age was still eighteen. We were deadheads drinking shots, dressed like slobs and making fun of the music. The women were beautiful with big hair and attitudes. Annoyed at the hippies laughing in the dark corner. I had too much, as usual and it always seemed to hit me earlier then the other guys. I was never meant to be a drinker. I threw up all the time and I had diarrhea. Other guys could just drink, pound them down and play quarters for 24 hours straight and get up and walk a straight line home. (at the moment I am writing this, I am experiencing a severe case of Déjà vu) Now this crazy looking guy from across the bar is staring at me and I feel a vomit coming on so I ease over towards the bathroom and this guy is suddenly waiting there. I ignore him as I feel for the mens room in this dark hallway….I mean really dark….”Hey listen…..hey…hey George.”
So who the fuck is that and how do they know my name. The room is spinning. The music is thumping “Funky Town” by Lipps I think, I could almost taste the vomit…”Hey George” he giggles. He is right next to me. Suddenly I feel better. I feel better than better. I feel great. I am sober, I think. This guy is staring at me in the dark with this big smile.
“Hey George” he half whispers.. “I know you. I’m from the future.”

It's not easy being green

This really happened to me. A disco in 1979. A strange dude that told me about cell phones, 9/11, the Giants winning a Super Bowl in seven years, financial hardships, computers taking over, marriage, divorce, winning the lottery, drugs, drinking, sex, death, miracle cures, war, typhoons, tornados, tsunami’s, torture…
Hey you freak what are you saying. What are you putting in my mind. What the fuck is a cell phone? What kind of crazy pants are you wearing….disco boy….fag….leave me alone. Oh my head hurts from you. Get out of my life. Get out of my mind!!! Now forever making cameo appearances in my freaking dreams. Do you believe me?

409 Downing Street Westfield New Jersey


Dad’s Root beer
Our dads home when he was growing up. His teen age years. Meeting mom. Having dinner with Geraldine his sister and William his brother. His mom and “Pop” sitting in the living room waiting for him to go through that front door again and join the marine’s….or get married….or help Pop out at the store on East Broad street….not too far away. Westfield was a different place then, but it hasn’t changed much since. The biggest disappointment most recently is that they tore down “The Leader Store” They still have real live cops directing traffic during peak hours. The Westfield Sewing Center, our Grandfathers and then our dads place of business is long gone. People don’t sew their own dresses, curtains or make crafts anymore. Everyone is too busy on the cell phone or watching reality TV on the tube. We are all in front of mini-monitors, TV, computer or phone…taking commands and giving them. One of the things my dad passed on to me was growing tomatoes. It is an art to grow them…actually an easy art. Tomatoes are very hardy plants and even a seed from a tomato on a sandwich can fall in the crack of the sidewalk and if you let it grow, YOU WILL harvest a tomato or two. The weather here has been absolutely gorgeous. It has been the Summer of dreams….long days, hot skies, cold oceans, simmering spaghetti sauce, ribs and tomato plants wilting in the endless ninety degree days.
There are few gifts greater than offering your friend your home to stay. The other night we lay by the windowsill telling stories of our days, current and past. The Summer had been so hot, we were worried about the flowers. But as the darkness grew in the fading day a cool breeze had reached on the window sill. A small rumble of thunder. A flash of lightening and finally ……..rain. We listened, watched and talked. I am very grateful for that moment of time. To be protected from the storm but to be so close to it. To be able to listen to someone and have someone listen to me. To be able to smell the rain. To be able to call something “home” is a great gift. To have the blessings to share a meal with the one you love. To sit on the back deck and watch the day slowly turn into night. The candle on the wooden table splashes yellow puddles on your face. These are the moments of that you live for. The quiet unnoticed ones. I wouldn’t have them if it wasn’t for you. Thank you.

A night at the circus


A moment of time forever etched digitally on a blog deep in space. Perhaps not for eternity but it is there only because I thought it was worth digging in my pocket for my camera. We were cutting through some woods towards a wooden roller coaster. The yellow spot lights giving off an eire glow. Party balloons abandoned. My kids way ahead of me because I was keeping company with my stupid camera. Somewhere in south Ohio, July 4, 2011, the United States of America. Earth.

Mark O’Neil

Friday, April 2nd, 2010

Mark O’Neil went to school with me at St. Joesphs (The Worker) Grade school in Carteret NJ. His family lived right next to the school and I remember there seemed to alot of turmoil in their home. They were a pure Irish family, on the short side and Mark was rather nerdish perhaps even a little sloppy. He always seemed to be struggling to hold himself together. His shirt was always untucked, one of his collars would always be pointing towards the fluorescent lights of the classroom. He had a little pot belly and sometimes his zipper was halfway down or his belt was unbuckled. Besides all that, while most kids had bookbags back then, he carried one of his fathers old brief cases. When he opened it, it sort of popped and things flew out and sometimes papers blew into the aisle where Mark would grumpily stumble out of his desk to go bend over and pick it up. As a result of this slight physical feat, his belt would probably pop open, his shirt would untuck and Mark would always be mumbling under his breath and get red-faced. Mark was blessed with Irish fair skin that usually blushed very easily at the slightest discomfort before people. Usually trying to hide the blushed face just made things more embarrassing and the face would get even redder. As a result of all of this Mark O’Neil become easy to make fun of or laughed at. He wasn’t one to bully, though, because of his Irish spirit, he was one tough little fireplug. He had alot of pride, and stubborn determination.

Every year St Joseph (The Worker) of Carteret NJ had a “Talent Show” This was a big event that I think happened at night in front of the whole school and all the parents. The auditorium was transformed into a rather large social extravaganza, most people dressed up and there were decorations and a sort of special anticipation filled the air.

There was usually the same thing every year. Groups of classes lip-synching to a scratchy 45 on a school phonograph. Synchronized dancing. Small one act plays. If a child was brave enough or talented enough, he or she would do a solo either on a musical instrument or singing a popular song of the era. But the solo acts were very rare. One year a girl blew the lyrics to a song and panicked, the crowd kinda laughed, she ended up crying on stage and this became a legend for years. The nuns would be back stage running around setting up the next act or adjusting the clumsy costumes.

This one particular year was going to be special, though, it was seen on the scheduled agenda for this years talent show, that Mark O’Neil would playing the accordion……..SOLO. By himself. On his own. In front of every parent, teacher and child in the whole community of St Joseph (The Worker) Grade School. It was said that even the janitor had somehow booked front row tickets for this amazing event.

I will never forget the quiet that filled the auditorium when the curtain rose and Mark was sitting there on a stool. His white dress shirt slightly untucked his thick hair parted sloppily to the side and a HUGE accordion on his lap.
Now I heard his father playing sometimes when I passed his house so I knew there was some kind of musical thing happening in that household. But it never struck me that Mark was taking lessons from his father for a musical instrument that looked almost twice his size on his lap. A musical instrument that looked slightly more complicated algebra book I had seen in Terry McSherrys room one day. A musical instrument that had so many buttons it seemed to be part of an American lunar landing that was going on in the days this took place.
Mark never looked up. The awkward silence was broken by the sound of this strange carnival sounding thing. It was a song. Some sort of slow sad melody and then ….a broken note….. silence again. Mark started all over. Playing again while audience stared. Then several notes into the song….he messed up again. He started wiggling in discomfort never looking up at the huge crowd in front of him, some of whom started to open their mouths in disbelief. Halfway through the song, maybe, he blew it again and the mistake was loud and whiney. Now more long awkward silence. Mark started mumbling to himself. I think everyone in the audience was uncomfortable as his face started to turn bright red. In the silence, what to do? By now he was physically struggling, sweating and getting redder by the second. Mark gathered up enough courage to start the song again, for the forth time! To most people they were witnessing an epic failure live in person.
It seemed like forever to me, that Mark O’Neil was in front of the whole world stumbling, staggering and failing until finally a nun lowered the gold curtain. Maybe it was God that lowered the curtain because there was a huge sigh of relief that it was finally over. There was a small silence then applause and finally a buzz of talk in the auditorium until the nuns finally opened the curtain to another act; the entire fifth grade class doing the Alley Cat (a popular song and dance at the time)

Mark O'Neil and the accordion


It is a funny thing, the memory. How we remember only certain things in life and forget others. That all that was taught to me that year; math, english, geometry and even art class. That all the people I had has friends. All the things I did, learned, and lived that school year are forgotten except for this moment; Mark O’Neil playing accordion in front of the whole school.
I will never forget his father, how he smiled and hugged him afterwards, I didn’t understand. Mark blew it. He was horrible. He collapsed in front of everyone and will be a laughing stock in Carteret for the rest of his life.

It was years later. After I had kids. After I had learned the disappointments and failures and ups and downs of life. Of learning to live without a father. Of getting over pride and ego. Of learning to accept myself for who I am. Of learning how to keep trying no matter HOW HARD it is that I realized this:
Mark O’Neil playing accordion on stage that school year was the only thing I remember because it was probably the most important learning experience of my life.

One bright Fall day in Rosendale NY

Saturday, October 17th, 2009
One day in Rosendale NY

Bob (left) a mushroom harvester and Chris (right) steel drum player/human puppet

In my exploratory discoveries of upstate New York, yet another quaint little town shown to me by Golden Bear. We found Bob in a parking lot when a blue herring suddenly and gracefully flew across the sky. We all stood in awe and my first impression of Bob was ripped and thrown away when only he was able to identify the bird immediately. When I noticed his Florida license plates, I felt drawn to him and soon found a wonderful man with a wonderful story.
He was once well over 300 pounds when he met a woman, who taught him how to cook and eat organically.
He also went to a 6 month spiritual retreat with her and together they became interested in healthy eating and cooking. He took a course in Mushroom harvesting and comes up here to NY to identify and harvest. He goes town to town to sell his “schrooms” to local restaurants. Some can fetch quite a pretty penny per pound.

Chris was sitting on his chair playing a small steel drum instrument that he had invented himself. The sound that came from his fingers against the drums was heavenly and mesmerizing as the town people just walked about doing their thing. Chris was surrounded by an open garage filled with hand-made masks, robes, banners and the smell of paint. The banner across the top advertised for a “puppet show 4:00 PM” something I just couldn’t (and glad I didn’t) miss.

Halloween comes early in Rosendale

Halloween comes early in Rosendale

You can’t beat entertainment that includes most of the children from the audience and live music provided by the locals. Community comes into your heart like a great wind, knocking down barriers of prejudice and fear. The show made me want to sing, chant and dance along and I would have if that by doing that I would have blocked others view and been too rude.
This makeshift stage, (garage) hand-painted scenery and stories probably written that day was one of the simplest joys I had experienced in a very long time.

An exciting way to activate your intuition is through wonder!

An exciting way to activate your intuition is through wonder!


Another nice find, The Rosedale Cafe, full of locals and good food (and free WiFi ! LoL) is a great place to visit among all the history and restored buildings.

1969

Sunday, July 19th, 2009

Was a hot Summer. A long Summer. I remember being in Dads Westfield Sewing Center when one of his teenage girl workers begged him to go home early so that she could get ready to leave for Woodstock.
I remember the whole hype and build-up on Tv and the newspapers to finally watch man land on the moon. I became so obsessed with that, collecting the photos (Life magazine was always the best) and buying the model of the Apollo 11. I spent endless hours putting it together, the glue and paint my first very young “high” (damn that stuff was strong back then)
I remember Glenn climbing the black railing on our front porch and falling. He broke his arm right in front of me. I thought that was strange because I didn’t hear anything “snap”
And the Mets, ahhhh, my first season as a fan. The magical Mets captivated me and Jim McSherry. We went up to his fathers room to watch every night game on WOR channel 9. Their miraculous climb to first place. When they made it to the World Series, the nuns stopped class and rolled in a TV so that we could watch a day game.
When you are living an era in your life, it can take many years later to look back on it and realize how special it was. All you can remember is the romance, the innocence, the smiles, and the music. I mean sometimes I just hear an old song and I am back there! Transported to that time, surrounded by all those old people in your life, and it is very powerful.
Who would know, 40 years later….the Summer of 1969; after Woodstock,
Man on the Moon, Miracle Mets, Dads Fabric store,
Student Jan Palach sets himself on fire in Prague’s Wenceslas Square to protest the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, Vietnam War: U.S. President Richard Nixon declares the Nixon Doctrine, stating that the United States now expects its Asian allies to take care of their own military defense. This starts the “Vietnamization” of the war.
The Manson Family kills Leno and Rosemary LaBianca, wealthy Los Angeles businesspeople.
The Brady Bunch premieres on ABC and Monty Python soon follows in the BBC and the first Sesame Street a few months after that. Wal-Mart incorporates as Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. The Altamont Free Concert is held at the Altamont Speedway in northern California. Hosted by the Rolling Stones, it is an attempt at a “Woodstock West” and is best known for the uproar of violence that occurred. It is viewed by many as the “end of the sixties.”

Entry for December 19, 2008

Friday, May 15th, 2009

Well, it is almost Christmas. It snowed today here in Jersey and that can really put you in the spirit. But then it rained and everything was cold, wet and slushy. Ice water dripped down my back while I was waiting for the bus and I wasn’t sure quite what it was at first so I just screamed. Several people looked at me in disgust. My favorite movie for Christmas spirit is “It’s A Wonderful Life” Not only is the central characters name George, but he ends up on a cold snowy bridge in desperate need of help. How many times do I need to go to this damn bridge in my life? I miss when I was a family. I really miss my house and gardens, chopping wood for the fireplace. I am grateful, though, for where I am now. Right now, it’s not a cold snowy bridge. That movie “A Christmas Story” seems to be getting more popular every year. I love that central character Ralphie. He always reminded me of someone and then finally this year I figured it out.

RALPHIE and Brother GARY

Santa and Uncle Rebel

A Reindeer and George
How did Mom and Dad do it? Ten kids. Yet in all our “Twenty Questions” we all list Christmas as our favorite memory. It was never about money or toys (ok, so maybe it was) but there was never anything more magical then all of us being together under that tree in the morning.

SPECIAL THANKYOU: After Dad died, Gene Kaufmann and Danny Braza among others were there for mom to help put the toys together and help with all the work that can associated with Christmas.

MERRY CHRISTMAS !!!

Dreaming in Black & White….Entry for May 30, 2008

Saturday, May 9th, 2009

In this dream I was a kid in our house on Whitman street in Carteret NJ. It was Fall because everything was black and white outside and inside even our pets. Mom and Dad were at Liberty Bell betting on Joanies Ponie. I was scared. Not because of the trees outside but because Carol and Rebel were watching usbut that everthing seemed different. The cuckoo clock in the recroom was broken. Kenny Gitter was knocking on the door but we weren't allowed outside. I didn't want to go out there anyway. I wanted it to be the future. I wanted to be grown up, so I could do what I wanted. I was sick of bunkbeds and "Teddy Bear Hartman"

Springtime……………Entry for April 14, 2008

Saturday, May 9th, 2009

Artwork by Brittani

Give me the splendid silent sun
with all his beams full-dazzling.-Walt Whutman

in Just
spring when the world is mudluscious
the little
lame balloonman
whistles far and wee -EE Cummings

The sun was warm but the wind was chill.
You know how it is with an April day
When the sun is out and the wind is still
You’re one month on in the middle of May.
But if you so much as dare to speak,
A cloud comes over the sunlit arch,
A wind comes off a frozen peak,
And you’re two months back in the middle of March.-Robert Frost

April is the cruelest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain. -T.S. Eliot

A little Madness in the Spring
Is wholesome even for the King. -Emily Dikenson

The sky was yellow…..
and the sun was blue -Jerry Garcia/ Robert Hunter

Christmas with Bella….Entry for December 28, 2007

Saturday, May 9th, 2009



Christmas with the Hoffmans
Thanks Joe, Belinda and Bella for a Christmas I will never forget.

It’s beginning to look alot like…….Entry for November 30, 2007

Friday, May 8th, 2009


While driving around once before Thanksgiving, I noticed Christmas lights. On the radio….Christmas music!!! BEFORE THANKSGIVING???
Why does the Christmas celebration start earlier every year? The commercial reasons are obvious; many retailers do a significant portion of their business during Christmastime, so the sooner the sleigh bells ring, the happier stores are.
There is a deeper reason Christmas starts earlier each year: We want to live in the Christmastime world, and this has nothing to do with religion. In the Christmastime world, children are happy, family is gathered round, and all the year’s exhausting and stressful overwork has at least led to a pile of presents. Candles are lighted, and we listen for a sound in the distance.

Christmastime also brings out the strongest positive memories of most people’s childhoods…of presents, singing, anticipation, and the adults forcing themselves to get along. The Christmas weeks are the time we believe all is right with the world, whether or not we actually go over the river and through the woods to grandmother’s house. We want to enter the time of believing all is well, so every year we push up the start date.

At this time of year remember how blessed we are to be from such a BIG family. And how it has grown….and is still growing: Ann and her children, all our kids, Larry and Paul and their kids, the new kids on the block…Maddy, Becky, Britt and Bella! And our greatest blessing…..we are all resonably healthy. Merry Christmas

Gratitude is attitude……Entry for November 9, 2007

Friday, May 8th, 2009

I am thankful for all that I receive, because I know that as I receive I am able to give. And the more I give the more I receive. And I give thanks.

allowing
I am open and receptive to the abundance of the universe. I allow this abundance to flow to me and through me. I allow myself to be the devine vessel of Spirit, spreading joy and peace wherever I go.

blessed
I greet each day in joy because I know that I am blessed. I affirm that everything in my life is a blessing to me. Knowing that I am blessed allows me to live my life with a sense of freedom and peace. I am blessed.

What are you grateful for?