Memorial Day, proper

Ahh Memorial Day. A cool down day, a day of rest after an activity filled week, almost. I woke up early after getting to bed at 2:00, almost like Peter was with me. Too bad he wasn't because something big was going on in the hall all night. Too much noise, and I heard in the morning that the cops were called in. Cousin Chris and Peter had their rooms comped due to the noise and their complaints. I too complained at 9:00 PM but even after complaining AND finding that the maid had not been to my room all day I did not get comped! I guess I am too soft.

I got back to the scene of the party early, around 9:00 am and started cleaning up the deck, taking down the lights putting things away, playing with Harley the dog. Cousin Jan called and wanted me to get her into the city. Around 11:00 I picked her up, brought her over to the house and we all spent some time with GGG and left for the city around noon. Jennifer gave me good directions and we drove into Greenwich Village, had a slice, discovered that they did not bring my promised T-shirt in yet, went to my favorite pet store and begged yet again that Susan (my new friend) could go again next week. I gave Susan their card and she promised to bust their chops and get me that T-shirt.

Jan and I walked around some more and we then drove to the East Village where I hauled her suitcase up to her friends TINIEST apartment ever, said our good-byes and I headed back to Staten Island. Both trips went well, I found free parking in Greenwich Village and successfully parked illegally in the East Village.

Hey, this NY thing is not as tough as the song says.....maybe I can make it anywhere!

G-G-G's 104th Birthday

On Sunday the clan gathered for GGG's 104th Birthday. A wonderful event and very well attended. GGG was in rare form, smiling and sitting mildly for her photo ops with the various families. A good day was had by all.

Plenty of work went into the prep, regardless of how much I interfered with Jennifer. Jennifer is a world win force, a deep planner and perhaps technically the best battlefield general that ever was. She truly missed her calling. Why if she hadn't squandered her career working for the phone company, she could have ran this county! With her in charge and thinking it through why the war in Iraq would be over, Afghanistan too and the oil well in the gulf would be plugged by now.

She pulled this party off gracefully and still found time to go to a Met game, see Bon Jovi AND be the final say and persuasive influence for GGG's occasional melt downs. Hats off to my wonderful cousin Jennifer.

And my Other New (old) Favorite Song,

More BON JOVI


This song was his last, the entire audience sang it with him in the biggest love feast I have ever witnessed, tears were in peoples eyes, no shit!

And the screen was awesome. There was a contest that had people send in their own videos of them singing the song and they were put on the screen, ala Brady Bunch style, behind him and kept changing during the song.

Tommy used to work on the docks
Union's been on strike, he's down on his luck
It's tough, so tough

Gina works the diner all day
Working for her man, she brings home her pay
For love, mmm, for love

She says we've got to hold on to what we've got
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not
We got each other and that's a lot
For love we'll give it a shot!

Oh, we're half way there
Oh oh, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand, we'll make it I swear
Oh oh, livin' on a prayer

Tommy's got his six string in hock
Now he's holding in what he used to make it talk
So tough, mmm, it's tough

Gina dreams of running away
When she cries in the night, Tommy whispers
"Baby it's okay, someday"

We gotta hold on to what we've got
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not
We got each other and that's a lot
For love we'll give it a shot!

Oh, we're half way there
Oh oh, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand, we'll make it I swear
Oh oh, livin' on a prayer
Livin' on a prayer!

We gotta hold on ready or not
You live for the fight when it's all that you've got

Whoa, we're half way there
Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it I swear
Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer

Whoa, we're half way there
Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it I swear
Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer

Whoa, we're half way there
Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it I swear
Whoa oh, livin' on a prayer

Bon Jovi at the Meadowlands

AWESOME!!!!!!!

On Saturday Night, Jennifer, Lisa and I went to see Bon Jovi at the Meadowlands. Incredible. Amazing. I have to admit to not being a fan prior to the show. I had heard his music but had never really connected.

I have to say that Jersey was the best place to see him. He connects with the crowd and the crowd connects with him. Magically. He speaks the language, he knows what their lives are like, he knows their struggles and HE is their biggest fan and it shows. They love him, he loves them. I now get it and am a fan.

It was like Ghostbusters II and I was covered in that loving goo.

My new favorite song

Work for the Workin Man

I'm here trying to make a living
I ain't living just to die
Never getting back what I'm giving
Can someone somewhere help me justify
Why these strong hands are on the unemployed line
Now there's nothing left
But what's on my mind

Who's gonna work for the working man
Hurt for the working man
Get your hands in the dirt
Who's gonna work off the curse
Brother, I'll be damned
If I don't raise a hand
Whose gonna work work work work
For the working man

Empty pockets full of worry
Had to get two jobs and
It was hard enough just getting by
With the grace of god I'll get us through
I only know what I know how to do
I'm the only one who's got to look my family in the eye
Day after day, night after night

Who's gonna work for the working man
Hurt for the working man
Get your hands in the dirt
Who's gonna work off the curse
Brother, I'll be damned
If I don't raise a hand
Whose gonna work work work
For the working man

I lost my pension
They took my I'd
These were my friends
These were my dreams
These were my hopes
These are my streets
Can you hear me?

Who's gonna work for the working man
Hurt for the working man
Get your hands in the dirt
Who's gonna work off the curse
Brother, I'll be damned
If I don't raise a hand
Whose gonna work work work work
For the working man

These were my friends
These were my dreams
These were my hopes
These were my streets

Day In the City - Friday

After at night out at Citi Park I spent a day in the city.

A quiet day just roaming my favorite places. Drove down to the ferry, shot across on the Spirit of America and took the #1 train to Canal Street. First stop Pearl River where I bought Peggy a small surprise, actually the first stop was the sausage wagon in front of Pearl River for a dog

On my walk to Little Italy I saw my favorite little lunch spot the Blue Orange, and only took a picture.

In little Italy I had a slice, got no-where with a truck driver delivering tomato sauce to the restaurants (there goes my idea for importing San Marzano Tomato sauce) and had a watermelon ice.

Stopped at the oldest gun store in America and bought Peter a small surprise, gosh I hope I can get it past security. One more ice, mango, and I was on my way to Greenwich Village.

In the Village I found a wonderful pet store where I made friends (more later) with the owner and bought Neko a raincoat.

Wandered down to my favorite pizza joint where I had

a slice and asked to buy another T-shirt from them. They once again agreed, but told me I would have to come back tomorrow. I said I would, but wondered if I had the time. Resuming my stroll I had the brain flash to ask my new friend Susan at the pet store if she would buy it and send it to me. After a quick back-track my new friend agreed!

Strolling back to the subway I caught Mr. Softee delivering the goods.

Citi Park!!!!! *****

Thursday night I went to Citi Park to watch the Mets play the Phillies.  What a beautiful stadium.  Reminds me a lot of Safeco, same feel; very open and fan friendly. And even in New York, I ran into old friends, Like Mr. Met.

And ran into even older friends, like Casey Stengel, the ol' Professor

Cousin Jennifer and I found time to have a slice, and I could even get an IPA!!!  But just as we were eating, and just ten minutes before game time.....Thunderstorms!  and no roof!

But soon, after about two hours of beer drinking and buying beers for service men, it's Fleet Week in NY, the sky cleared and Cousin Jennifer gave the night the two thumbs up it deserved.

But the Phillies lost, and around 11:30 and the Mets up 1-0, I caught Jamie's eye in the dugout, asked in pantomime if he was on the pinch hitting list, discovered he was not in the plans and we left.

Westbrook, Maine

Cloudman Court. Can it sound any dreamier than Cloudman Court. This is the street we moved to from NY when we moved to Maine. Cloudman Court, a peaceful little street in a peaceful little town just out of Portland. The downside, it was a pulp town and it had a smell to it. But I have never lived in such a small town. My school, pictured above had four rooms and it only went through 3rd grade. I spent three year there finally reaching the first grade, I'll spare you the math; two years in kindergarten.

There were a lot of kids that lived on or near Cloudman Court. There are actually pictures of me having a real live birthday party in our backyard there, cake and everything. At the end of the street there were woods and then the river. I remember running home from those woods screaming after either the kid I was with or myself stepped into a wasp nest. As one can imagine, it created quite a stir at home..racing in with the entire wasp population of Cloudman Court chasing after me.

We lived on Cloudman Court for about a year. I have never heard a reason - but knowing how cheap my old man was I am sure that my mother was the one who rented it and when he had the time he found cheaper digs. We soon moved closer to the pulp mill, right off main street near a warehouse. There was our little rental and some old apartments, teeming with horrible punk kids and the warehouse. It was right next to the rail road tracks and along with the horrible punks from the apartment, we hopped the trains to get to school. It sound real hard core and dangerous, but the trains went slower than we walked; it was just cooler to jump aboard than to walk.

The horrible punks in the apartments were truly a vile bunch of kids. The one kid I remember always wanted us to call him "Gillette" and I do not remember his real name. We ended up calling him "Toothless" as that summer his brother knocked all his teeth out playing full contact badminton. It was a horrible thing to see. The other big news that summer is that their family finally bought a car. A brand new Chevy II. It was the first brand new car I had ever seen and I remember being very impressed by it.

Across the main road ( a very busy street) was the little league field. I was too young to play, but my brother Bruce played for the Eagles. I was so envious of his uniform, his hat and the fact that he was "in the game". We all played baseball everyday behind the warehouse using the lime from the rail cars for chalk. But that could never compare to the real thing the Little League games played before a real crowd.

And once again the warehouse wall served as my full time playing catch partner.

Growing Up in Centerburg

I used to wish I had grown up in Centerburg. I wished I had been a friend of Homer Price. How nice to have lived the slow paced life of middle America. When I read these books the world slowed down. People were friendly, always willing to help....ready with a smile. And it made me smile.


And of course my all time goal as a child (and it still is a goal) was to stumble across a donut making machine that was out of control.

When I look around today and think of my younger years I DO get the feeling that I grew up in Centerburg. It seemed we did live in some pretty small communities (sometimes tucked into rather large ones) and I did enjoy that small town America feeling that cannot be reproduced today. It is gone.

My early memories are of Laurelton NY. Which was out in Queens kind of close in on Long Island. My Grandmothers house, where we lived when my father was away on ships. A tight little neighborhood (tucked into the big city) that was friendly and allowed a young boy of my pre-school age the run of the block. There was a big (in my mind) back yard. I played there endlessly and I am sure if you were to buy the property today you could dig the back yard up and find a hundred metal soldiers and metal cars that might fetch the cost of the house in auction. The back yard was also a squirrell sanctuary and I would spend many a morning at the kitchen table watching the squirrels run all over the yard. At that breafast table was always something wonderful DELIEVERED every morning from Enteman's Bakery, along with the delivered milk, and some chocolate milk if I was lucky and had been deemed to be a good boy.

In the front yard there was an Umbrella tree (called that because no rain ever hit you sitting under it) with a metal bench rocker that could fit two or three people. There was a brick porch (painted red) and the siding on the house was roofing material, meant to look pretty..not artistic. In the evenings people in the neighbor hood would walk by, stop and chat and we too would walk the block and stop and chat with them. There was a boy (a teen) that lived down the block who was a spastic (or so they called them that back then) who would walk by dragging his feet, arms bouncing around in the air. He would always stop and talk to my two aunts (teenagers at the time) who were always so nice to him. Across the street and down to the left was an old brick Jewish Synagogue that had a wonderful back wall to throw a ball against. I spent many an hour there practicing my future as a big league pitcher.

My Great Grandmother Cook would sit in the attic of the house peering out and would call me to come sit by her at times. Her room was a shrine to Jesus with scary pictures of him on the cross everywhere. She would sit on her bed, rubbing her legs and knees and tell me what it took to be a good boy and how I should behave. I would sit and fidget and occasionally stare out the window and see who was doing what. She would point out boys I shouldn't play with and tell me all the bad things she had seen them do, and of course I could not wait to go out and catch up with them.My Aunts would torment me. Calling me names and always trying to hug and kiss me; yeeech. My Aunt Franny was dating my Uncle Frank back then and I always enjoyed it when he was around. Such a cool guy. He would talk with me and treated me so well. I also remember Aunt Vickie dating Bobby Girardi (as he was called then, I believe he has turned into Robert) and Bobby was a smooth hip guy and was good to me as well. I am sure I was just a little pest to them all, but it was neat to be part of such a family with big people doing semi grown-up things.

Every afternoon (and I never wised up) my grandmother or one of my aunts would call me in and tell me my favorite show was on. Sucker that I was I would race in, lay down on the floor in front of the TV and watch the words roll down the screen (early cable news) with soft music playing and pictures of puppies or rabbits in the background. I would lie there impatiently at first waiting for that damn show to start (because it was my favorite, and I certainly did not want to miss it) and before I knew it....they had tricked me into my nap, again.