Deep Thoughts

Shake A Leg

Mon, 26 Apr 2010 15:37:40 -0600

It was a Saturday, spring morning in New York city.  I was 21 and the only reason I was up was because I had to take my father to work.  We parked on a 4 lane street that wasn't too busy considering it was after all, New York. My father left and went inside a grocery store...I knew he would be a while. So I sat ...there contemplating taking a nap while playing with the cassette player..... No cell phone back then to text or call someone..but then again I had no one to call even if I did have the technology..No Blackberry to surf the net either...Nope, there was nothing but music and people watching then.....Odd but I guess those are the two things I still do the most. "Where is that song...and am I rewinding side A or side B??"...I looked up as the tape obnoxiously rewound and as I looked up I began to notice my surroundings.  Directly across the street from me was a big shop that sold barstools...There were hundreds of them big and small littering the sidewalk and proudly displayed through big glass windows..To the left was a Tire place with hand written signage that claimed: "We Fix Flats" I found it strange that a business would compete with itself.... "Guys you sell tires....your sign should read"."Hey Your Flat Can Not Be Fixed, So Buy A Tire"....Sheesh I should have gone into business.  Finally to the right of the stools was a shoe repair shop...NY has a ton of these or at least back then they did..It was then that I noticed her.....and it was at that point that the rewinding tape came to a choking halt like a running dog reaching the end of his anchored leash. The cassette player started playing automatically...The bells start chiming...."Hells Bells" from AC-DC kicked in....It was fitting and almost perfectly scored for the moment. She was coming out of the shoe repair shop...Anyone and Everyone, male or female would be lying if they said she wasn't striking at first sight. She stopped right there at the curb waiting for a clearing to cross the street.  As I looked closer I could see that she was attractive...pretty hair, and nice full lips....her shoulders were bare and her arms revealed some definite strength and tone.  But wait a minute....didn't I first mention that she was striking and then I mentioned her looks???....What was I referring to then when I said she was striking?... Oh yeah that's right........She didn't have legs.....Nope not a single lower extremity dangled beyond her groin area..She held herself up pretty well with just crutches... Poor thing was there waiting to cross the street and no one would stop or even slow down...... I gripped the inner door handle preparing to launch into action. I ejected the cassette quickly to avoid embarrassment from having Track 9 play. (Shake A Leg) As I stared at her I thought....how cruel life is to some. I mean she wasn't bad looking but the fact that she was missing both her legs really must have had an impact on her social life. Poor thing was probably never asked out....or never kissed a man......but I bet she could love someone with all her heart.....true deep love....And once she met someone that even considered her, she'd be so thrilled that she would never ever leave him....she would never leave me......"She's probably lonely...as lonely as me?" I thought to myself.  I reached into the glove compartment and took out my pad and pen and jotted down my name and number...."No!! there's no reason why two perfectly compassionate and Lovable people should be alone in this world....I'm not shallow and looks never mattered to me...I want someone with a heart..that could love me and I could love them...Oh and believe me I would love her", my mind raced with all these thoughts...I stretched my neck to quickly check my hair in the rear view mirror...I smiled at myself..."You're doing a good thing Michael...You're doing a good thing" I flung open my car door and stepped out. I felt like Ed McMahon ready to bring joy to someone's heart.. As I looked up towards her I noticed a man running out of the shoe repair shop...He ran .....he ran right into her arms and planted the biggest most X-Rated kiss I had ever seen...He then hugged her and picked her right off her feet....(well)....Dang she was even light enough for "ME" to carry..As I watched....I crumbled the paper in my hand...."I'm such a loser" I got back in my car and took a nap.

...for my Juliet

Tue, 20 Apr 2010 20:48:16 -0600

I was madly in love with one of the prettiest girls I ever knew…This girl had such a way to fill my mind with thoughts of her all day long. It was sickening but at the same time so wonderful. I could never get enough of her as I made every effort to somehow be with her. She had become my every moment, my one true love. One evening I decided to throw a little bit of classical romance into the mix. So I ventured to where she lived. At the time she was living with her older sister and brother in law, both of whom I never met, as our relationship was hidden. It was forbidden love some might say, hence my Juliet. I approached her window to the east and picked up the smallest of stones. A dim light faintly poured through the window blinds. My Juliet was not yet asleep. It took me all of 3 attempts to address my target in a fashion worthy of any skilled marksmen. CLINK! Ahh certain she heard that…..for my Juliet had perfect hearing. As I waited for her face I was stunned to see the blinds tightly close. Surely she would have looked out… Rare that she not thinks it me. Suddenly the porch light came on and a cold uneasy feeling came over me. “Do they have guns in the house?” I remember asking Juliet at one time but failed to remember the answer. “Was my target incorrect?” BINGO! Unfortunately for me I did not come equipped with a copy of their floor plan. I heard the front door open as I stood paralyzed to the side of the house. I could easily recall everything perfectly about my Juliet, her eyes, her smile, her voice, her sigh, her swallow, her laughter. The footsteps I heard approaching though were not that of my maiden. It was her brother in law. He came out at first shocked as I…..but one good look at my dainty stature and he was transformed into Rambo. “What are you doing here?” he boldly asked? I felt like the Tin Man at that moment when asked by the Wizard, “Why have you come to see the great and powerful OZ?” I childishly giggled and started to foolishly explain in an “as a matter of fact” fashion… “You see I was just making my way down the yellow brick road when……” Remember how the Tin Man was interrupted? “Silence”!!!! If I were truly made of tin he would have heard me rattle. Then walks out Juliet’s sister…Hoping to not be identified I narrowed my position showing only my profile. I’m sure they must have thought this queer…or literally, this queer! "Wow.... she looks a lot like Juliet" I thought….perhaps she would show some mercy. But she looked up at her husband as to say, “Kill the RAT!” After getting my name, my reason for the visit, my social and my blood type he closed our conversation, “I don’t want to see you here ever again!!” I was crushed....What a great first impression... They were supposed to like me, at least in all my dreams they did. What happened to the part where they lifted me up unto their shoulders, invited me in and in a drunken stupor shouted for joy...."Finally a man worthy of my sister." It was not to be. I walked back to my vehicle with my tail between my legs. No signs of Juliet…Not a curtain moved, nor a shadow cast. Could she not feel my pain? Could she not sense my presence? Did she not hear the blasted stone that struck her sisters window? I got into my car, looked out and there they were Rambo and Juliet’s sister in the front yard….like a sweet looking couple sending off their company….”Should I wave goodbye?” I thought to myself. No, this wasn’t one of those moments. “What I did for love?” played in my head. One final look as I departed…No Juliet. Ahh the things we do… The things I did……..for my Juliet.

May

Thu, 15 Apr 2010 20:48:24 -0600

For the longest time my motto has been to live for the day….to appreciate and savor each living moment of each gifted day….  But I’ll tell you....cursed be the month of April….with it’s 30 long and painful days.  What is this?  It seems that today my way of thinking has changed…. for now in this month of April, I long ...for May….  Oh May how beautiful your days…all 31 one of them. Even your name implies a certain measure of possibility….this “may” happen or even this?  How is it that I am wishing for time to me rush me by…and then to slow dramatically, even to a standstill once May arrives.   No….It’s not logical to ask that of time….is it?…Perhaps not…and so I digress and ask for time to take it’s course….let each tick have it’s tock…  and “may” we enjoy the days leading to the month of May…  Oh May, how beautiful your days!!!

ON THE BLUE LINE

Wed, 14 Apr 2010 20:51:14 -0600

So while I sit here among my transit friends I notice a little boy about 3 years of age....with chubby cheeks, grey sweats and a red penguin shirt...he calls the woman he is with manny...in a cute way meaning mommy… She combs his hair with her fingers as if he were the sweetest life she knew....he proba...bly is in her eyes. He carries an etch a sketch in his hands and she takes it from him and etches away like a mad scientist...he tries to glance over and she hides it from him….but when she completes her sketch she turns it and shows him. His eyes light up and a big tired smile grows on his face. He then tucks his head on her lap holding the sketch against his chest.  A young teenager in a pink top puckers her lip in attitude as she sends texts from her sliding phone. Her necklace is unique as the chain is blue and silver.....she seems to be from a good family. Her key chain shows a picture of her family (I am assuming)...complete with a large home in the background and Fido with hanging tongue.  Nerdy boy on seat 2 wears a yellow short sleeved buttoned shirt. He looks like the Mad Magazine boy with freckles and all....he's reading a text book with one hand on his brow...he looks like he certainly doesn't fit in very well with any group...but his intensity as he reads tells me he will be something great...way to go bud....I wonder if he has all this planned in his mind... “Sacrifice”  My stop is coming soon....the little boy with the chubby cheeks has fallen asleep....his puffy little fingers drop the etch a sketch....I reach down and pick it up and hand it to his “manny”... But right before I hand it over I take a quick peek at the sketch... I smile...she smiles back…..my stop is here. I exit and the Blue Line drives off.....another ride tomorrow.

My First Time

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 23:13:27 -0600

My First Time
I didn’t know her….

I felt as if the whole time I really couldn’t lift my head up to look into her eyes.
She kept (forcefully) pushing my head up as if she were preventing me from seeing what she was doing …”Easy!! There’s a neck attached to my head lady.” I thought to myself. 
She was casual in her conversation, asking silly questions just to pass the time…no real interest there.

I felt as if she hated me and all that she wanted was my money.
She was quick and kept asking, “So is that ok?” but she said it in a way that meant, “This is as far as I am going.”

I grimaced as she blew into my face.

She ended with a slap of her towel….and then as if in disgust, swept away the aftermath…

I paid her and even gave her a bit more out of obligation.

As I walked out the door I stared at my reflection in the window….I was disgusted with what she had done to me.

I’ll never go to a SuperCuts again.

Do You Think?

Sun, 12 Jul 2009 11:06:40 -0600

Do You Think?

Do you think that you and I
can make it through one day
without tearing us apart?

But even when you're screaming
I can't help but love your face
those eyes they soften up my heart.

"Go find what's out there.", you tell me
but baby why can't you just see
that all I want to do is stay

and find another day for you and me
let's fade into the sunset like we've dreamed
regardless of all we fight about
cuz I don't want someone that I can live with
I want someone that I can't live without.
Do you think?

Do you think that we would be
much better off apart?
The very thought crushes my heart

Cuz even when I'm dreaming
I can't help but face the truth
this world ain't nothing without you.

"Go find what's out there.", you tell me
but baby why can't you just see
that all I want to do is stay

and find another day for you and me
let's fade into the sunset like we've dreamed
regardless of all we fight about
cuz I don't want someone that I can live with
I want someone that I can't live without.
Do you think?

And do you think that maybe we
could give it one last try
before we finally say goodbye

Cuz baby we've got so much more to lose
than what we'll ever find

"Go find what's out there.", you tell me
but baby why can't you just see
that all I want to do is stay

and find another day for you and me
let's fade into the sunset like we've dreamed
regardless of all we fight about
cuz I don't want someone that I can live with
I want someone that I can't live without.
Do you think?

Michael Junchaya

She Looked Good Didn't She?

Mon, 23 Mar 2009 20:02:47 -0600

“No I’m ok” the old man replied.

Right there at that moment is where I noticed a different man.

This old feeble man that I was walking behind suddenly demonstrated an unforeseen strength.
His grip was clenched in a fist so tightly that it blocked the circulation to his fingers.
He was holding a clear plastic bag with blue lettering that read, PATIENT BELONGINGS. Inside the bag there was a white blouse with pink polyester pants and white sneakers with soles so clean that they could easily sell as unused.

There was life to this old man after all and it was in the form of a grip.

I wondered exactly what it was he was holding on to so desperately.

Was it the hope of being able to return those belongings back to her once she “got better”, without issue of it being lost or wrinkled?

Or was it the knowledge that the contents of that clear plastic bag was all that he would ever walk out with?

I turned onto a different hallway and watched them walk away.

I feel for the old man knowing what’s in store for him.
I picture him walking into his home and getting that feeling. The feeling you get when you come out of the supermarket into a crowded parking lot. You stick your key in your car and the locks won’t open. You take a second look and realize that it’s really not your car. For that brief moment you’re lost and you have no idea where “what’s yours” is anymore.

I watch his struggled journey out the Hospital doors.
I see the weakness in his stride, perhaps hesitant to what he leaves behind.
I see the strength in his grip for the last bit of hope that he now holds.

“She looked good…

…didn’t she?”

The Red Room Facing The Mountains

Sat, 14 Mar 2009 20:11:58 -0600

I was given a list of names from which to choose from on a white sheet of toner-scented paper. Without much thought I quickly eliminated all the female names just because I wanted someone that I could possibly relate to and vice-versa. (Chris, my bad if you’re a male)
The trailing credentials in the form of random letters were meaningless to me, in fact if any of them had a longer list of credentials, I found them to be pompous and so I eliminated them.

Looking down at my paper I saw that I had circled BOB days earlier.

“I have an appointment to see BOB.” I stated with uncertainty.
“I’ll take your paperwork, you can take a seat and it will take a few minutes until we call you.” replied the receptionist whose sideburns were much too long for her short face.

I sat in a heavily occupied boxy waiting room that was littered with magazines, clearly an indication that the waiting could be brutal.
To my surprise within four minutes of taking a seat, my name was called, although badly butchered it was called.

I was led and walked into a cozy, red, furnished room. A large bay window revealed the majestic brown mountains. It was a scene from a magazine with only the reindeer missing. You see Bob stood there with a white, fur-filled face, greeting me and directing me to sit down. I swear he’s the closest I’ve ever been to the real Santa. (Shhh-NOT NOW)
We sat down and a part of me instantly became disappointed. Where was the big leather couch on which I could spread myself all over? Where were the bookshelves and the portraits of past and modern thinkers? Where was the big ol’ grandfather clock, complete with the accompanying tick and tock? I felt as if I had made a mistake. I check my paper again, yep BOB…. Crap!

As he began to introduce himself I shut him off as I began to think to myself, “You poor old man. How could I possibly count on you to remotely understand the complex creature that Michael Junchaya is??? The only way I could ever imagine you in my life is once a year as I would run onto your lap and tell you about that new shiny red guitar that I simply must have!!! So before we become close chums their Bobby how’s about facing the truth, cutting the cord and moving on?” (Of course all this was in my thoughts)

“So tell me about you…..not your problems but just about you…What do you enjoy out of life?” Bob asked.

I adjusted my seating, glanced at his jellybean jar; he obviously wasn’t fond of the yellow ones.

“Well I like to write, I love music, swimming, playing chess, movies, I love New Jersey…..and I enjoy family gatherings.” I ended with a cough signaling him that I couldn’t think of more.
“Well…”, he laid his glasses down and reached for the Jellybean jar. He offered me first and I politely showed him my gum…(Is there a polite way of showing someone your gum?) He reached in with his chubby, pink fingers, and his flakey fingernails (Thank Goodness I said No)
“….those all seem to be very good things.” He replied while his pointer finger pushed away the yellow from his searching twitch.
“When you go home write me a list of what makes you sad” he uttered with a sour mouth.
Right there and then he concluded our meeting and handed me a slip to make an appointment for next week. A $40 co-pay appointment.
“Was that it?” I thought to myself.
I felt like the Karate Kid and my Mr. Miagi was being a Dill-Hole.

“Well I’ll see you next week, Bob”….I got up and showed myself to the door….”Don’t bother getting up Bobbie, and I know Wax On Wax Off” my thoughts went off.

Next week arrived and I had already made plans on replacing Bob for someone else.
I spoke to Sideburn Sally and she arranged it all but it required me to see Bob one more time to be officially released from his care and I also had to give permission to transfer my standard questionnaire. As I walked in to see Bob, with my head lowered because I really hate to offend people, I noticed a few things.

There in front of the chair where I would sit was a Chess Board perfectly set and ready to play. Music was playing from his computer and on his desk were the release forms.

“Well I couldn’t fit a pool in here but at least I thought we could have a Chess match but...” He then pointed to the forms.

I rubbed my lip, holding back my thoughts, “Wow…well perhaps I didn’t give you a chance and I must say this is nice.”

“What’s nice?” he asked.

“You really listened to me.” I closed the door and sat in the chair.

Two times a week for about a year Bob and I would meet in the red room facing the mountains.

Your Name In The Sand

Thu, 12 Mar 2009 20:04:04 -0600

Three days ago
with the tips of two of my fingers
I scribbled your name in the sand.

Right here,
in the back of my house.
It's the place that I go
when I'm feeling alone.

Early this morning
before the dawn of the day
The sky opened up
and it began to rain.

Tiny little drops fell
against my uncovered head.
Moving like an old man
all curled up with dread.

In haste and with thoughts afar
The lyrics that I wrote for you
blew out of my car.

The wind manuevered the page
to the back of my house.
I ran really fast but the
wind was too proud

And finally it landed
down onto the sand
I picked up my lyrics
with my clumsy cold hand.

The scribble of your name now
solidified from the rain.
"Gosh I thought this would be
gone, it's been 3 whole days"

Somethings perhaps are not
so easily erased.

Three days ago
with the tips of two of my fingers
I scribbled your name in the sand.

Michael Junchaya

Not Just A Dreamer

Wed, 4 Mar 2009 20:06:13 -0700

The people that I am most drawn to and that I truly admire are those that make goals throughout their lives. There's something about someone who is focused, with a clear plan and determination that makes them interesting and dependable. Someone who is reaching for something is someone beyond a dreamer.

There are some that advise you to never to make your goals public. I say quite the opposite. The advantages I see of making a goal public is that you have that added pressure to reach your goal or you're going to disappoint yourself as well as others. Also having the support of those you've told could be a tremendous asset in your journey towards your goal.

So with all that said I would like to publicly announce a goal of mine.

It may seem a little impossible but I do know that it has been done and therefore I could do it as well.

The reason I am posting this is because I believe that I can count on your support. I feel that with all of you on my side I can accomplish this goal.

Just be aware that on the day that I finally reach this goal, those of you that have sent me kind words of encouragement will be the ones I publicly thank and personally will always hold close to my heart.

My main goal for 2009 is to.....for the first time in my 40 years of existence.... finish a tube of ChapStick.. You see I've never been able to do that...I've had many tubes but I have yet to finish one. Sadly they are usually lost, melted in my car, or ruined in the wash.

I appreciate all of you and thank you in advance for being there for me.

michael

Nothing But An Orange

Fri, 1 Feb 2008 18:05:50 -0700

One Friday afternoon my mom sent me to the supermarket to get some needed groceries. It was a cold October day in Jersey, so I grabbed my jacket and was on my way. The supermarket was home to me, since I was there so often and I practically knew everyone who worked there.
 I quickly gathered the items on my mom's list and stood in line where one of my friends was cashiering. Ok, Lisa was more than just a friend or at least I wanted her to be more than a friend. I had this crush on her that you wouldn't believe. Luckily mom had not caught on to the fact of why I was so eager to go to the grocery store every time. She still calls me her favorite son - imagine that. Anyway I had been eyeballing Lisa for quite some time. It seemed that every time I was on her line our conversations would get longer and longer and I would get closer and closer to getting the nerve to finally ask her out. Well today was possibly the day, and why wouldn't it be? After all I had a newly self-induced haircut, a Def Leppard t-shirt that I won at the church fair, my Member's Only jacket, and a killer opening line. I was engorged in confidence and I was ready.  I waited for the customer in front of me to leave and then I confidently said, "Hey - So now I know why they call it a Supermarket.....You're Super!" Bamm! Take that and call me in the morning, the thought passed in my head. No sign of trembling was in my voice, I stood straight, looked in her eyes. It was textbook material. She played with her hair and smiled. A light chuckle came from her mouth, not enough to distort the perfection but just enough to say she was interested. This was the moment.  I gladly reached into my jacket pocket to get my mom’s money. As I pulled my hand from my pocket I noticed a strange orange ball from the corner of my eye coming out of my pocket. At that moment the slow motion cam engaged.  It was an orange. The same orange I left in my jacket pocket the previous day when I was in a rush from leaving lunch to get to class. It was now in midair beside me. I remember looking first at Lisa and then to my left at the other customers in line. They all could see it too.
 Entropy played its part but painfully to my disadvantage. The orange found its way onto the grocery belt and ever so slowly rolled down in a proud manner. I fumbled unsuccessfully to grab onto the demon fruit like a half blinded cat.  It was then that the tiny little orange changed in size and took the form of a genetically enhanced watermelon. It was huge. At least that’s the way I saw it and the way I thought everyone else saw it too. There was nothing discreet about this thing. Flashing in my mind were thoughts of an evening spent with Lisa: Walking on the beach, feeding her grapes, singing her my songs, and kissing those beautiful lips. There had to be a way to explain this - right? Before I could find my voice though, Lisa picked up the orange, placed it in my grocery bag, and whispered, “That’s ok.” That was it. I left quiet, ashamed and heartbroken. No Lisa, No more trips to the supermarket, no beach, no grapes, no singing, no kiss. Nothing but an orange.

A Wisher

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 18:05:47 -0600

At a park I sit watching my kids engage in outdoor fun, it seems to be the setting that my mind flourishes with good thought. Instantly I'm back to days of comfort, when the world was pure joy - to me it was. From outside I'd run into the kitchen and the smell of mom's cooking teased my nose and prepared my mouth for a feast. Hints of red on the meat and the steam from the pots - subconscious indicators that mom wasn't ready to keep me in. Awkwardly I'd turn my head up into the faucet - lips wrapped tight forming a gasket seal - sucking as if air - flinching in preparation from the snap of mom's dishtowel.  I had to get back out quickly - I couldn't miss out on the fun. As I'd storm out in the manner I did many times, I'd fail to question: Was she as excited as me? Did she want to be inside cooking or had she wished of running outside, away from it all - wild and free? Did she look forward to eating or did the thought of dishes ruin her appetite? And dad - well he seemed happy to be home, as he'd chase us around a few times before collapsing onto the couch. Content he seemed to be watching us play, but was he struggling inside with thoughts of "someday"? I'm relieved neither pointed out nor made it clear the things they thought each day. I know now I guess.....why I choose to live this way. My kids call out to look at them play.....I smile.....I laugh....they think I'm ok. A little girl passes by, calling out her younger sister. She points in my direction, "Look Sarah, a wisher."  I turn to my left, a puffed up dandelion I see.  For a moment I thought she was pointing at me.

The Perfect Evening

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 18:04:16 -0600

He’s in a red cap wearing a black tee. There’s no one sitting in front of him. He’s been shuffling what’s more likely to be an incomplete deck of playing cards. His eyes have been following the short, overworked waitress. He’s looking to talk to her. She just wants to go home.  In a few minutes it will be one in the morning here in Albuquerque at an IHOP. Someone just ordered eggs referring to them as ovaries. Or was it that they asked for eggs “over easy”? Two teenagers next to me are going back and forth about nothing. Seems like they just like to hear themselves talk. Five bucks they’ll pick up their phones again. Why is it that this era enjoys playing with cell phones? Put it down already boys, you’re killing me. Across from me by the back table, against the wall, six young Indian girls are complaining about the cold air coming from the vents above. Not one of them with hair shorter than shoulder length sit there with black tops, blue jeans, olive skin and tiny over-compressed voices. They are beautiful girls on the inside as well…They seem like very good friends. You can tell they’re out just to be together. They’ve already found what they’re looking for, each other – Nice. Red cap just recognized one of the girls sitting to the right of me. I wonder what he’d say if he read my opening lines. He sits now at reading distance. What’s with the baggy jeans? Why do guys do that? There’s definitely less than 52 cards in that deck…no literally. For the third time tonight my tired waitress asks, “How are we doing?” Is she mocking my solitude? Perhaps her shift is about to end and she’s wanting her tip? My tea though is cold and my elbow is sticky. Should I ask for a warm one and a wipey? That wouldn’t sound right. I just noticed her tongue piercing. Should I order something else? A tiny compressed voice just blurted “It was the perfect evening!” it was followed by giggles. It must be nice to be in a group. The music coming from the kitchen is hardly noticeable which makes it quite annoying. Dishes, utensils, chatter, and laughter – all ok. Unable to name that tune – frustrating. Bar-tongued waitress takes my debit card as the six buds walk out the side door. Red cap is still in pursuit and there’s no end to the shuffling. He shuffles faster every time she gets close. A cocky teenager asks for dry cereal. I think he meant cold cereal. I laugh. He notices. It’s getting crowded in here and I start to get nervous. Before I walk away I read once more about the moment I just captured. Why is it that the photographer is rarely in his pictures? I get up and gather my things: my phone, my laptop, and my red cap. No I’m not the guy in the red cap but wouldn’t that have been something?

Not In The Mood For A Brownie

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 18:04:13 -0600

Well I parked myself at the local library today to finish up some work that I had. Sitting at a table, laptop running, I looked around and noticed the place was dead. Oh goody for me....I thought to myself....well perhaps I didn't think the word goody...but anyway it was a good thing. As I looked over to the kids section I noticed a small girl, about 6 yrs. old in braids and a brown uniform. On her left hand a form that seemed to resemble a cookie order form. Well I could certainly go for some cookies....I love the Somoas...Not sure if Brownies sell them or not but there's a possibility.  Anyway this little girl got closer as I reached for my wallet to check out the cash situation...I'm not one to carry that much cash any more but surprisingly I had a folded twenty. So this Brownie got about 10 feet away from me stopped and just stood there and began to stare at me.... Hmmmm. Awkward moment I immediately thought and looked down wondering if I had a stain on my shirt......nope... I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, perhaps a glob of hair gel re-surfaced taking a life of it's own to form an Alfalfa....No............Not a soul behind me either.....Hmmmm. She was too young to confuse me for Daniel-son (The Karate Kid) I got a lot of that in High School...Maybe she watches, Everybody Loves Raymond and confused me for Ray...I get that nowadays....Great I went from Ralph Macchio to Ray Romano....Not sure you can call that aging gracefully. Well that didn't seem to be the case..What I was dealing with here was a STARE DOWN...It's been a while since my last stare down...sadly I can't say I won....but the guy had a wayward left eye...so that's not really fair. He had the advantage. You try staring at an Iguana.....I rest my case. Anyway I took a deep breath and looked up at little Miss Brownie and sure enough, as I'm sure my eyes widened, she was staring. A quick focus and I was locked in....The weather was perfect for this moment not too dry so I know I could go for awhile without even blinking....Though it wasn't the blinking I was worried about at this moment..I was dealing with a pro here... I hate getting to the point where I get too intimidated and I suddenly look away.... This little pesky girl was testing me.....she wouldn't budge...30 seconds probably passed by now and I had to do something....I pouted my lips as if to say, "Whatcha looking at?"....no response...I wanted to look to my left so bad...but I couldn't.....Perhaps if I looked slightly above and past her it would look like I never really was competeing but simply in a dazed thought. No...what I am saying here I'm 37 years old....she's only about 6....What's wrong with me????? It's no use.....I'm a coward....I'm going to look away and just leave. Just then a woman called out..."Amy".....A-ha...mother was calling. Suddenly I saw those stone cold lifeless eyes.....fill up with emotion....yeah bad timing for Miss Brownie...and I could see defeat in her eyes as I'm sure she saw victory in mine.  A quick squint and an angered frown and Miss Brownie was gone....  ALELUIA-ALELUIA-ALELUIA.  My first win.....Perhaps just the thing that I needed...a little confidence.

Synthetic Comfort

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 18:04:10 -0600

Pausing for a moment in this chaotic world I made for myself…I think of you. How beautiful to picture you….How sweet to remember your smell…..How warming to feel you close to me. I can close my eyes and do all those wonderful things and more. But as my eyes open there’s nothing more but a busy, demanding world… Hogging up my entire mind, it takes you from me…and places you aside… Reserved…perhaps for another moment. Then, as the “brain hog” has it’s way with me…. I run into an unexpected object…. a gesture….a phrase….a scent….a touch…a place…a sound. You come back...build your trench and fight for what is rightfully yours...no? Boy, do you put up a fight… Even your memory is proud. During a meeting…a phone call….a movie….a drive….a read….a swim…a run….a prayer….a song……or practically anything… You come in. Dominant and confident of where you are….and what you can do to me… You still exist. Like a greedy empire though seeking to conquer and populate all that remains…you come in at all costs. You mingle among the pleasant thoughts inside of me… disguising yourself to take control. “I am pleasing to the mind….take me in.” So I rush....and I let you in… ”Ahh there…..that’s better.” Synthetic comfort. The thought of you invades… A parasite that convinces its host, “Allow me to survive in you….so that you yourself can survive.” Who has become the “brain hog” now? Where has my world gone? It belongs to you now.....doesn’t it? The Trump of gray matter….The Alexander of recall…. I lose my mind to you.

You'll Tell Me When

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 18:04:08 -0600

What makes me think that I'm so different than him? What makes me think that you won't walk away again. When did I become so confident? You'll tell me when. What made me think that I could love you? When someone else still lives inside you. When did I become so confident? You'll tell me when. You fall in love so easily You make love with your friends. It seems like we will always be But in the end You'll tell me when

Expensive Walked In

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:56:46 -0600

Expensive walked in…she stole my heart. She sat right beside me but we were world’s apart. She wore a blue blazer….pure black underneath. Professionally dressed and her hair so classy. She was striking and confident but her face gave away more. She’s lonely…she’s wondering...she’s scarred and still sore. She laughed loud, but her shoulders were shrugged…she brilliantly smiled but her eyes were saddened. You could barely see but nonetheless notice that her mascara had run… she had just cried….somewhere….somehow…….about someone. How could such a woman cry? Over who and why? She had the face you just wouldn’t want to miss….Blinking would be too long away from someone like this. I sipped my tea, yet kept her focused…Curious I’ve become…There’s so much more to notice. Her voice was toned, warm to the ear….pure gentle hands…..almond sheer. She hid behind her chalk white smile…. Torn…conflicted….unhappy…denial. Unworthy as if to even imagine…. Could I be the man….she loved with such passion? If only I could show her how much I could love her…. would that make a difference…..would she even bother? But what would be the cost of giving away me to such a beautiful soul…confused…and in need? Expensive walked in…..she stole my heart.

A Better Moment

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:56:44 -0600

Early summer nights in Jersey….. School was out and so were we… late into the night………After it became too dark to play soccer we would run to the garden hose and take turns hydrating ourselves…Water never tasted so good…and unlike this dry state, never was it so abundant. “Save some for the fish!” was the common line to tell others that they were taking too long…. I miss that green hose with the rusted threads…seems the years seasoned it just right for those long parched summer nights. No time to sit or stand around after water break was over…We immediately without notice took our positions and made our way down the block….Phil Cang’…the neighborhood timekeeper who never left home without his watch confirmed the time….”5….4......3…..2.…1….let’s go”…The bakers at Tirico Bakery always took a break at exactly 1am…. Two of us stayed outside as the lookouts by the side door…..3 went in to get the stash…..and 2 went out back to keep the bakers busy…something about describing Italian Hotties kept those bakers talking and too consumed to take notice of the invaders…..The brown delivery bags were tall and kept in piles by the bread crumb machine…Only the warmest of loaves were taken….French, Italian, and Semolina loaves were carefully placed in the bags….A pound of sticky dough was sliced off the dough machine…Dough - the perfect bait for Carp that we would fish for in the early morning. Once the goods were taken we left silently leaving the bread racks partially empty towards the back and a pair of bakers all worked up and a danger to any female…. In the backyard we’d go….The bag was placed on the picnic table….Johnny went inside to get the salt and pepper…I’d go in and get the mayonnaise and a butter knife…Then we’d each go into the garden and pick out a tomato…..Ahhh.- Jersey Tomatoes… The bread and tomatoes were sliced…the mayo was spread and the salt and pepper was sprinkled abundantly…. Sitting peacefully in the warm summer nights…..our guinea T’s drenched….sandwiches in our hands…..moonlight shinning on our content faces….No work…no school….Was there a better moment?

Walk Away

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:56:41 -0600

How does one walk away from something that he or she really wants? Is it simply will power? Well….if that were the case then I could do that… Finding out about my dad’s heart condition convinced me to give up eggs, butter, margarine and salad dressing for 3 years…for 3 long years I gave it up… Missed the eggs the most…. But that’s just food…. What about a huge temptation? Yeah like…..money or possessions? Well I wouldn’t steal….but then again I would....if I had to…. I mean if the world stopped for a moment and I was the only one moving I would have to hit the music store and walk away with as much as I could….At least my tastes have changed though…It used to be that I would have raided the Protein For Skinny Asses store. What place would you raid? What about stealing a kiss? Would you go look for someone you have always wanted to kiss if time were frozen? Where does Oprah live? Anyone know? Oh my stomach just turned….Nah….not Oprah…But we all have that someone…don’t we?…Yeah with my luck though just as I were to plant one on my unconscious victim, time would kick in and I’d get kicked around and have my head bashed in…and my final thoughts would be, how uncomfortable cement shoes truly are but I’d finally see the inside of a Cadillac…the trunk that is…hmmmm So those of you reading this....who would you steal a kiss from? A neighbor, a Hollywood star, an old flame, a co-worker, an in-law {sick}, a Democrat {sicker}….who? Please don’t answer spouse or loved one…..I’ll get that Oprah feeling again… You wouldn’t want me having that again right? Well what about walking away from a temptation from the opposite sex…. Hmmm. How tough is that? How can one possibly walk away with that nagging thought in their head…”What would it be like?” I remember being in the subway with my dad in NY and we saw a nun asking for donations…..I think I gave her a few cents or a dollar…She smiled and reached into her bag…..She then pulled out something wrapped in foil and it looked really cool and mysterious…As I reached out to receive it my dad gave me that…”Moron don’t you dare take that!” look. So I politely said no-thanks…and walked away…Till this day…TILL THIS BLOODY DAY I have no clue what was in the foil….It kills me…That was about 30 years ago…..and I still hate myself for not finding out what was in there…..I should have just gave my dad the “Time –Out” sign: ”Dad! Time-Out…you don’t understand this is going to bug me for the rest of my life…I must take…..I must look and if it’s a piece of cheese or something…..I’ll wrap it back up and kindly give it back…I’ll even throw in a Hail Mary….…but for the love of all that is HOLY…allow me this one…please” Sure I would have gotten my head kicked in…cement shoes and the whole deal but at least I would have died knowing……knowing it was good…knowing it was stupid…but at least knowing… So what does it take to walk away? What have you walked away from? And what have you learned?…Inspire me

Panic In The Subway

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:56:38 -0600

"That's it!" I couldn't take it anymore I had to go eat something. I shut my laptop grabbed my jacket and keys and headed out of work for some chow. I decided this was going to be a Subway day. I walked into Subway and was greeted by that familiar bread & cold cuts aroma. The pleasant scent though was quickly replaced by a sudden panic...I was in a long line at Subway at 12:15 and the "Sandwich Artists" weren't foolin' around...They meant business and I had not practiced my order ahead of time.....I know that the slightest stutter, or pause would cause havoc, not only upsetting the focused sandwich staff but also the customers behind me...The midday assembly line at subway is something you don't want to mess with. Ok...I wanted a BMT on Monterey Cheddar, six inch with provolone cheese....lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, oil and extra vinegar....Now how do I say that without messing up? 2 more people before me and then it was my turn....  These guys are moving fast...Perhaps I'll try to impress them by making my order more efficient...Hmmmm...What if I start off saying...Monterey cheddar, because the bread is grabbed first then 6 inch, provolone, BMT" That would be more efficient right? Perhaps I would get a little recognition if I said it that way....perhaps I could start a new trend....I could be the franchise model of how to order a sandwhich and replace that nerdy guy from those commercials...C'mon who isn't sick of him? I might even get a smile from the pretty girl behind me. Ok my turn: "What will you have buddy?"  "Monterey Cheddar, 6 inch, provolone with......." "Hey buddy C'mon we don't make Monterey Cheddar anymore...look at the sign its right there. Now pick something."  He frowned and looked at me with disgust.... I looked behind me to see if anyone noticed. The pretty girl looked away not wanting to be associated with me....I could have sworn I heard the Cock crow 3 times..."Et tu' Purdy Girl?"  The macho man with the overloaded iPod let out a, "Sheesh!!"  "Umm just give me the wheat then...please..sorry about that." "Cheese C'mon Cheese" "Oh provolone and that will be a BMT" Whew...Ok onto the next Artist....This next guy is a punk rocker with whacky hair...perhaps I can relate to him and get him on my side.. “BMT any veggies with that?” “Lettuce, tomatoes and cucumber please…oh and dude that is so bad how your hair sticks out in the back like that…It’s really hip man….You must be a musician right?” He looked at me as if he were trying to whisper in confidence…He leaned forward…I gave him my good ear….. “Prince! Please go in the back and get your hair net on…NOW! The manager overheard my comment and noticed his hair was exposed. The dude was trying to tell me to keep it down and not bring attention to his hair. Crap!… The Artist formerly known as Prince walked away with a menacing stare…. Pretty girl behind me rolled her eyes and nodded at Prince… This is crazy. “Any Seasoning Sir!?” The Seasoning Girl asked sternly knowing I just screwed over her man Prince…. “No, nothing…that will be all, thanks.” I didn’t bother asking for oil or the extra vinegar….I was going back with a dry sandwich and slim chances of ever returning to that Subway ever again. What a loser I am. Who gets all worked up to order a stupid sandwich? Me that’s who, the only loser who would panic in the Subway.

My Son Said A Bad Word

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:56:35 -0600

I came home late from work and was completely drained. I left my workbag at the door, quietly stepped in as to not wake anyone and plopped myself down at the kitchen table.. Ahh..... I could feel a pulse on both my feet as I finally lifted them up from the ground and onto one of the chairs... As I started to go over the "eat or not eat" question in my mind I heard tiny footsteps making their way down the stairs. It was Mason..my youngest...the 5 year old. He obviously heard me come home and wanted to say hello, as he had not seen me for some time now because of my crazy hours... "Hey bud what's new?....Boy do you look cute in your Super Man jammies?" Mason made a halfhearted smirk and looked almost intoxicated with his sleepy eyes. "So tell me buddy....how was your day?" Another dazed look but this time followed by a quick, almost shy yawn... "So are you not going to talk to me??? If not I guess you better get back to bed...ok?" Just then his mouth opened... "Dad I know the bad word for Beaver." Did I just hear that right?........No.. "Excuse me....what did you just say?" "I know the bad word for Beaver." His eyes still dazed but this time his brows came down...showing signs of confidence...almost as if to say..."I know something that adults know." Oh my goodness how....and where did my little innocent 5 year old pick up such language??? How could he possibly know the bad word for Beaver?? That in itself is pretty horrid in my standards.... Still looking at me with his stern brows. Do I even want to hear that word come out of my son’s mouth??? Actually there could be 2 words right??? Well I think I only know 2....Oh my goodness they are both horrendous...I swear I am getting rid of every TV in this house....It must have been the TV.....I don't trust that Disney Channel anymore....The TV is to blame!!! Perhaps though it was that crazy kid that rides the bus with him....Yeah that's got to be it......That kid is trouble and the whole neighborhood knows it.... I'm going to take this up with that kids parents... Oh I am so furious that my poor innocent child has lost his integrity...He came to us Whole and Pure but now he's damaged goods...... Mason took my tie...and started tugging at it....waiting for me to say, "What is the bad word for Beaver?" I tried to stall as much as I could because I feared what I was about to hear...Oh...my goodness...my poor child... The answer about "eat or not eat" was clear now....There wasn't going to be anything but this PIT in belly tonight. I mustered up a smile and softly touched his chin....I'm so envious of his skin...it is so soft and so new...I patted his head, tilted mine to see him better...and I addressed him ever so gently and loving... "Tell me son...what is the bad word for beaver?” Suddenly a change came over him...It was his moment now I guess and he became scared.....Perhaps scared to disappoint dad or scared that he would get in trouble for saying a bad word... I had to comfort him... "Don't worry......you could tell daddy anything...In fact I really want you to tell me so that I could tell you exactly what that word means and you could understand why it's called a bad word and why it's not nice to say......ok?" He quickly got on my lap and gave me the warmest of hugs....I felt at that moment that he was reassuring himself that daddy was going to protect him...He was in a vulnerable moment right now so he tried his best to show me that he was trusting me.. "Go on Mason...tell daddy." I held him like a baby as he looked up at me and placed my tie over his mouth...almost like concealing a weapon that was about to go off... He reminded me of Cole from The Sixth Sense when he was telling Bruce Willis that he sees dead people...."...all the time." He took a deep breath, looked up with teary eyes and softly stated: "The bad word for Beaver is........DAM" I got up and made myself a sandwich.

One Pesky Fly

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:51:10 -0600

“Go away” There’s a pesky fly doing what flies normally do. Fly. If I could fly I wouldn’t waste my time around smelly humans… although I do smell quite nice right now…”Come on back here I was only kidding.” You know I never had a real manly smell.. I never came home smelling of gun powder, wood, metal or cement….odd huh? How sexy is the smell of White-Out? Oh yeah Mike’s working it folks… He’s got the Liquid Paper scent… {Insert growl here}  Geez I don’t know… If I could pick out one smell for myself it would probably be Febreeze…that stuff is worse than sniffing glue…I’m so addicted. {Inhales and smiles} This poor thing buzzing around me has such a barbaric name. Fly. How would you like to be named by what you do most? What would your name be? You guys can call me: “Brush Teeth” It’s one of those quirky habits I have that I can’t get rid of.. My poor teeth our destined to lose all their enamel by the time I’m 38…that’s next year.. Pretty soon I’ll have to join the fly by regurgitating my digestive juices all over my food before I eat…Yeah if I continue I’ll lose my teeth. That happens to be my number one reoccurring nightmare….losing my teeth.........my second is swallowing a fly.  Yeah I wish I could go back and name of few of my past girlfriends using the "Fly" naming convention. Let's see we would have, BreakHeart, Fish Burp, Two Time, Headache, Flake, Nag, Pyscho and Phone Hog............ahhh that felt good. {Ladies you know who you are} Let the phone calls begin! It must be cool to have a part of you transparent like a fly’s wings. What part of you would you choose to be transparent? I don’t know about you but I would choose my lower legs…That way I could seem like I’m floating all the time…I could pass for deity or an angelic messenger. People would bow before me and give me all their attention. ME: “Fear Not. I come in Peace.” Yeah but knowing me the murmuring would start soon after… PEOPLE: “Hey why is God losing his enamel?” Jerks! Maggots have to be by far one of the grossest creatures I have ever encountered…In Poltergeist when the guy takes a bite into the maggot infested chicken I freaked…That is just not cool. That was the scariest part of the movie…  “Get off me!”… “You were ugly as a baby and you’re still ugly now!” No, I wasn’t on the phone with my mom…but thanks for thinking it. There it goes….My friend has found another host. {Insert Cheer here!} I’m free now….free from that pesky fly. Well it’s been real… Signing off, Brush Teeth

...for my Juliet

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:51:08 -0600

Cleaning Up House

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:51:06 -0600

Ok I just finished cleaning up the kitchen and it looks awesome.....I am someone who likes the bare minimum of items on the counter...Yes even the darn can-opener must be put away. I like seeing miles of counter space with nothing but perhaps a small container of lemons or limes...that's it... When my in laws lived with us I had a hard time...Every morning on my clean counters were bread crumbs from toast...It's one of those things I honestly hate.....I think toast is over-rated....... it's bread nearly burned...What fun is that?? Anyway I have found lately that amusing myself with the most common of things is realy quite simple.....For example when doing the dishes I have a hard time controlling and pacing myself....I immediately want to stick things in the garbage disposal..It is so much fun!!!! I love doing egg shells...The sound is awesome and it looks so cool.... I can't imagine someone not getting excited by using the disposal....It's just wonderful........To any novice out there I highly recommend not messing with celery...Those strong fibrous threads just jam up your disposal and before you know it..Pooof! You blew the motor. It's amazing that we could digest that stuff. Egg beaters or handheld mixers....You can't get weirder than that....These things make the coolest sound...It's like a bike ride for your hand....I swear if I could bring pair to work I would...What a great way to release stress...I could go on for hours if it didn't drive everyone insane....Also have you ever tried chasing kids with these things? Mike recommends highly....It's like a nightmare involving Freddie Krueger and Julia Child...SCARY STUFF folks... My kids were literally in tears...You see first you need to demonstrate with a piece of cheese what happens if your finger gets caught....Not a pretty sight...Then you chase them...That's when the fun begins.... Well I better go clean the bathrooms..... Have I mentioned the cool stuff you find there?

Inside

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:51:03 -0600

The pavement was cold as my naked feet silently stepped onto the driveway. The stars were just beginning to fade as the morning was closing in. I watched her drive away. I watched in disbelief. “Where do I go from here?” “What’s there to look forward to now that she’s gone?” The air was new and its moisture was soothing to my nose. I could have just laid there if it weren’t for my neighbors. “Inside……I need to go inside.” Perhaps I was stalling in hopes that I would see her turn back. Or, just maybe I felt as if I had nothing to go back inside to. There was no turning back for her though. I wonder if it would have a made a difference had she known I was still out there. Holding my elbows in defense from the brisk morning air, a small bug crawled past my toes. I looked out again ignoring the bug…. She was gone.....and so was I.....inside.

The Funeral Was A Disaster

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:50:59 -0600

I was the President at the time of a small, newly formed branch (church congregation). For those of you unfamiliar with my role it’s similar to the pastor of a church. I was fairly new in the church as well, but I had a ton of inspiration and motivation. Sadly one of our members passed away and I was asked by the family to conduct the funeral service. It was going to be my first experience presiding over such an event.
Never Assume: Well the day of the funeral arrived and I was headed to the funeral home thinking I knew where it was. I was so wrong to assume I knew. The funeral was scheduled for 6:00pm. It was 5:30 when I realized I was on the wrong side of town. Panic set-in immediately but I was still hopeful to make it just in time. Traffic that day seemed to be at it’s worst…If I was the cursing type I would have certainly peaked on my usage of special words that day. Rather I ended up biting the skin around my fingers and swallowing more than my share of human flesh for the year or lifetime for that matter.

6:00pm. How not to ask for help: I reached the other side of town. I still had to find the funeral home though. Unfamiliar with the area I stopped at the first pedestrian I saw. “Excuse me do you know where I can find Early Rise Funeral Home?” If there was the slightest pause for thought I peeled away as I did for the first 3 people. How stupid of these people I remember thinking….Don’t they realize I’m late for a funeral that I’m supposed to be conducting? How dare they to think I have the time to hear them take a breath, to pause, lean their arm on my car door or try to be funny…I want answers here folks…It’s not time to be friendly….bastards!!! As you can see I was in the perfect spirit to do my job…

6:15pm. We have a winner: I finally found someone aware of my urgency. Perhaps it was the tears in my eyes, my soaked shirt or my bleeding fingertips that opened his eyes, whatever it was I knew now exactly how to get there.

6:25pm Valet Parking: I saw the funeral home sign……and yelled at it with disgust and relief, "Early Rise my ***! If you have ever been to Paterson, NJ you know how horrible parking is. It’s not an easy task at all. There was no time for that though as I caught a glimpse of some family members pacing outside the funeral home…..I parked my car in the middle of the street, jumped out and threw my keys to a 10 year old sporting a suit 2 sizes too big and a botched up haircut…”Please find someone to park my car buddy.” I hardly looked at him.
Hey..All eyes on me: I ran into the funeral home which was dark and somber. As I entered everyone turned and looked up at me…How awful of a feeling. Their faces weren’t happy at all and they had every right to hate me at that moment. In fact I hated me at that moment. How could I be so irresponsible? That was one of my qualities that people usually liked about me, that I was responsible. Not this time though.  I went over to the organist (You know the guy that plays the organ….sheesh) I quietly asked him what songs he was familiar with…..I started naming a few from our hymn book and he had no clue. I then just asked him to name a few that he knew and I stopped him at, Ave Maria…”Good I know that one… That will be our opening hymn and then we’ll play it by ear.” He nodded and I proceeded to take center stage.
How not to address the family: I composed myself as best as I could. Looking down at the wrinkled program at my handwritten notes with the blood stained speckles I took a deep breath, looked up and opened my mouth. “Brothers and Sisters I’d like to welcome all of you here today as we celebrate the life of our beloved Sister…….um Sister….” What the hell was the kid with the big suit still doing with my keys??? Oh my goodness never mind that I can’t think of her name….this kid is going to lose my keys and I can’t think of her name….I blanked….I freaked… Was my car still not parked??? Back to what’s more important though…Perhaps if I mumbled or coughed a name I could get lucky….As I looked out for reactions to my pause there was no one willing to help me out with her name….bastards! My notes finally revealed the name but the damage was done…Like a novice magician with a clumsy palm trying to conceal the bulge in his hand everyone was on to me. I’m just a complete idiot….Hopefully though the worst is over.
All together now: I read through the order of the program, “….and that’s how we will proceed.” Everyone got a little comfortable…I could see they enjoyed the order and events that were about to take place…A little confidence filled my voice and these guys were trusting me again…cool everything back to normal….”Let me just start fresh here”…I thought to myself. The Organist (you remember him right?) got his cue and started playing “Ave Maria” Oh how beautiful it sounded….but wait…. the hymn books I brought didn’t have Ave Maria on them…. Holy cow…. The intro was over and the Organist signaled me to begin singing…Ohh….please someone start singing and I swear I’ll join in…I swear to my kids God if someone would just start singing I will never ever be unprepared again…Not a single note from a single soul…..bastards! The Organist looked over at me with stern eyebrows and started the intro over…I pretended not to see him. Ok surely everyone got the message here… this is a combined effort folks…The intro was repeated 2 additional times with no one singing….Finally I broke in, “Ok that was beautiful…thank you. Let’s go to our first speaker now.”.......... I swear to you I heard them talking about me…things like, “Oh this guy is bad.”, “Where on earth did they find this guy?” “This is an outrage!” Wow…I felt so small.
Let the children come to me: The rest of the service was uneventful. I closed the meeting and met up with the family at the woman’s home. Not really something I wanted to do considering I thought my life was at risk. I went in and everyone was very polite but I could still hear the murmuring…but I deserved it. I said my goodbye’s and walked out. As I was leaving…. at the gate, the boy with the big suit stood there. “Have a good night buddy and thanks for helping me out.” I said massaging his horrible haircut. The boy looked up at me, losing his hands in the suit, and loudly announced, “My mom said you sucked.”………………bastard!

Sorry I Was Wrong

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:45:56 -0600

We had friends coming over that day and so I had just spent the majority of the day cleaning up. I walked into the kitchen where my oldest daughter Megan was eating a snack. As I was completing the final touches I heard a glass spill. I immediately yelled out, “Megan I just cleaned up! You have to be more careful. NOW GET UP AND CLEAN UP THIS MESS!!!” Megan looked up at me with tears in her eyes, “Daddy I didn’t do it.” Just then a little head peered out from underneath the table. It was my younger daughter Madison. Her guilty sweet face gave her away as her tiny hand reached out to catch the dripping milk. It was Madison who hiding had bumped the table and spilt the milk. Still looking up at me with teary eyes was Megan. What could I possibly say to her?....I made a mistake…I was wrong…So what did I say?...”Well if you didn’t take so long eating, this wouldn’t have happened now clean it up!!!”  Wow….why is it so difficult to say, “Sorry I was wrong.” The biggest disservice we can do to our kids is to not admit it when we are wrong, to not admit it when we don’t know something.  If your car ever broke down and your family was with you what do you do? Well I’ll tell you what I do. I pop the hood, jiggle the oil dip-stick a little, get some grease on my hands, wait a minute or two then go back and try to start the car again. Why can’t I just say, “You know what Family??? I have no clue what to do….I have no idea what I’m looking at.”  However if the car were to magically start up I’d nod and graciously accept my family’s praise…. One of the characteristics of intelligent people is that they are teachable. Instead of pretending to know what you are talking about they’ll stop you and ask. How many times have you been too embarrassed to ask about a certain word or acronym you didn’t understand? So you go on pretending you understand.  I want my kids to be teachable so I need to teach them by example. I need to admit to them when I am wrong. I need to admit to them when Dad is clueless. It's hard to do because...well....... I'm dad. I feel bad about how I treated Megan that day...She deserved my apology. I also missed out on a great teaching opportunity. What can I say?..... Sorry I was wrong.

My Earliest Memories - Part I

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:45:54 -0600

Although I was born in Peru my earliest memories take place in the Bronx NY. We were in no way well off but we had so much that I can’t even describe how lucky I am. I remember living in the projects on Morris avenue…It was most likely 1971 because I believe I was only 3 years old. The apartment smelled of ammonia and cheap paint. The floor had an old antiquated flowery pattern that had been worn…in fact one could easily peel the floor on a weekly basis and get a whole new look instantly. We didn’t have much as far as appliances. I do remember though a black GE clock radio that my mom kept in the kitchen. I love the memory of that thing because many mornings were spent listening to Spanish songs and the news while dunking Saltines lathered in butter into a cup of café con leche. My poor mom could not butter them fast enough. My brother and I would reach out like vipers and snatch every cracker so there was never really a pile. So it seems the plate never really served it’s purpose…well perhaps it did, as the spot for a referee to drop the puck.  Our fridge was the kitchen window...I remember being so embarrassed, but not that we didn't have a fridge because I never really saw one so who cares, but that people could see our food if someone left the curtains open….Ohhh the shame…… We never heard a yell from mom about the fridge door being left open, instead it was more of a, “How many times do I have to tell you kids not to leave the food curtain open!!” like the food was going to spoil or something…hmmm Anyway I clearly remember one of the coolest sights I have ever seen. Poking my head through our kitchen window and looking down and seeing everyone else’s groceries…A huge assortment of milk, eggs, butter and beige wax paper, wrapping what most likely was meat, fish, or poultry…What a cool sight….what a beautiful and simple life. What a wonderful memory it has left in my mind.

Nothing But An Orange

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:45:51 -0600

One Friday afternoon my mom sent me to the supermarket to get some needed groceries. It was a cold October day in Jersey, so I grabbed my jacket and was on my way. The supermarket was home to me, since I was there so often and I practically knew everyone who worked there.  I quickly gathered the items on my mom's list and stood in line where one of my friends was cashiering. Ok, Lisa was more than just a friend or at least I wanted her to be more than a friend. I had this crush on her that you wouldn't believe. Luckily mom had not caught on to the fact of why I was so eager to go to the grocery store every time. She still calls me her favorite son - imagine that. Anyway I had been eyeballing Lisa for quite some time. It seemed that every time I was on her line our conversations would get longer and longer and I would get closer and closer to getting the nerve to finally ask her out. Well today was possibly the day, and why wouldn't it be? After all I had a newly self-induced haircut, a Def Leppard t-shirt that I won at the church fair, my Member's Only jacket, and a killer opening line. I was engorged in confidence and I was ready.  I waited for the customer in front of me to leave and then I confidently said, "Hey - So now I know why they call it a Supermarket.....You're Super!" Bamm! Take that and call me in the morning, the thought passed in my head. No sign of trembling was in my voice, I stood straight, looked in her eyes. It was textbook material. She played with her hair and smiled. A light chuckle came from her mouth, not enough to distort the perfection but just enough to say she was interested. This was the moment.  I gladly reached into my jacket pocket to get my mom’s money. As I pulled my hand from my pocket I noticed a strange orange ball from the corner of my eye coming out of my pocket. At that moment the slow motion cam engaged.  It was an orange. The same orange I left in my jacket pocket the previous day when I was in a rush from leaving lunch to get to class. It was now in midair beside me. I remember looking first at Lisa and then to my left at the other customers in line. They all could see it too.  Entropy played its part but painfully to my disadvantage. The orange found its way onto the grocery belt and ever so slowly rolled down in a proud manner. I fumbled unsuccessfully to grab onto the demon fruit like a half blinded cat.  It was then that the tiny little orange changed in size and took the form of a genetically enhanced watermelon. It was huge. At least that’s the way I saw it and the way I thought everyone else saw it too. There was nothing discreet about this thing. Flashing in my mind were thoughts of an evening spent with Lisa: Walking on the beach, feeding her grapes, singing her my songs, and kissing those beautiful lips. There had to be a way to explain this - right? Before I could find my voice though, Lisa picked up the orange, placed it in my grocery bag, and whispered, “That’s ok.” That was it. I left quiet, ashamed and heartbroken. No Lisa, No more trips to the supermarket, no beach, no grapes, no singing, no kiss. Nothing but an orange.

Here We Go Again

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:45:43 -0600

So I had band practice yesterday and it was a blast. I'm one who can do a song over and over until it's terribly painful. After all practice makes perfect! I finally had dinner after practice (10pm) which was pretty late, but it was delicious...Did I mention how I love soy sauce on white rice? It's the best. I got to bed around midnight but just tossed and turned for awhile.For some reason I felt I was full of energy.(It must have been the soy sauce) So unable to sleep I decided to go into the garage grab my guitar, a pen, a pad and a nice comfy seat. Actually I recognized this uneasiness as inspiration calling me...no, demanding me to get up and bring out what I was feeling. I wrote down, "Here We Go Again" signifying the process I go through when I feel inspired to be creative. This process is usually such a high for me and begins with a good hearty cry. Last night was no exception.. By 3am this morning I climbed back into bed with a beautiful melody playing in my head and some sincere lyrics that touched me deeply. I had created a new song. I let my feelings out. I allowed myself to reach in deep and bring out the truest form of me..  Although exhausted I looked forward to the morning to play my song again. I was worried though, that perhaps it just sounded good because it was late and I was tierd. Was it bad? I would have to wait till morning. The ceiling fan needs dusting - I'm tired, both physically and emotionally. As I got up I reached for my six string. I love the smell of spruce - the soundhole housed my nose. Without looking at my pad I played and sang, "Here We Go Again". The tune just flowed out almost natural. It is good. It was worth it. I wonder though, what I will come out with the next time I reach in there again.

Calling Michelle

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:45:41 -0600

"Okay Okay", with an outstretched and twisted hand. She had a way to make me laugh. She would perfectly imitate Howie Mandel back when he was in all his glory. Boy she did make me laugh. Michelle was part of a group of gals we met one summer. I didn't have any intrest in her in the beginning. She really wasn't all that girly. She was tiny yes but had a wrinkled face with droopy eyes. She would sing, "Against All Odds" by Phil Collins and that song still reminds me of her. Overall she seemed like a very sad girl but she did a pretty good job hiding behind her humor. I guess that's why I liked her. She was hurt before and I could relate. Her true love was off being a sailor in the Navy and Michelle was living off his memory. He left her but would come once in a while to catch up and then dump her again. How could I resist someone who was needing so badly to be loved....I'm HERE!!! Well...bad move on my part. I fell for her........really bad! Michelle broke my heart and I found myself behind a phone receiver weeks later keeping quiet to remain unknown. "Hello...Hello - Who is this?", Michelle impatiently asked. Against All Odds played in my mind as I found myself alone and heart broken in my room. I was Calling Michelle

He Lost More Than A Bag Of Bread

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:45:38 -0600

Yvonne and I had been dating for a while. She spent time commuting between both her parents who were divorced and living in different towns. She started spending more time with her dad though, after we started dating. I personally grew fond of the little red bearded man with the French accent. He was always in jeans, plaid shirts and smelled of wood. His door was always open for me and he never gave me grief. He was easy going and quite enjoyable to converse with. We talked of politics and religion and he shared his childhood experiences with me. I found out that he had a taste for the local bakery bread in which I worked at. Perhaps it was he that found out that I worked at the bakery, either way I started making it a habit to bring him a bag full of warm, fresh, bread delivered at his doorstep every Sunday morning. He mentioned many times how appreciative he was of this yummy gift and how he always looked forward to Sunday morning breakfast. Well things couldn't be any better. Me, Yvonne, and even her Dad all in good terms and living happily ever after. One Friday afternoon I decided to surprise Yvonne and show up un-announced. As I neared her property I hid behind some bushes as to go unnoticed. The door to their home opened. As I peered through the bushes out came Yvonne, her dad, and some guy I didn't recognize. Yvonne's dad had his arm on the guys shoulder as they walked towards a red Camaro. Yvonne then gave this guy a kiss. (Not like a relative kiss) In fact it was a French kiss (of all things) right there in front of her dad, and unknown to her, in front of me. Yes it was shocking and painful but most of the pain came from realizing that her dad was aware of this and he was part of this big lie. I was just an idiot delivering his bread. I guess he didn't want to lose his delivery of free bread. In the end though, he lost more than a bag of bread.

The Scary Guy

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 17:45:33 -0600

What did I do? I took my kids out to eat at a Home Town Buffet... While sitting, and enjoying our food at the table we noticed a wierd looking man with White Spikey hair looking all spooky and stuff..He worked there as a server. We were all in a good mood and started cracking jokes (to each other only) about the "scary guy" with the white hair...He seemd to catch a glimpse of us staring and laughing so I told the troops to bring it down a notch. I then asked my 7yr. old son Michael to please get me a chicken leg...(I like DARK MEAT-so sue me!) Anyway Mikey went up and minutes later came back as white as a ghost...trembling with fear..."What happened???" I asked him. "The guy with the white hair I think he heard us." Oh no I was thinking what did my brilliant son tell him???? I quickly asked Mikey if he told the scary guy any of the jokes we were saying about him. "No", he answered, "..but I think he heard us because he told me, "ASK YOUR FATHER IF HE WANTS TO DIE!!"" ..... No way....Oh my goodness..What did I do? What a bad example to my kids...now daddy is going to get his brains knocked out because of a stupid joke....Maybe I should call the manager....or maybe I should just face this guy and apologize for being so rude and inconsiderate... I quickly glanced at the scary guy and he gave me one of those, "Well?" looks....with his palms facing up like he was levitating an invisble woman, followed by a chin nod....Jeepers...this guy is a true nightmare.....Just as I was about to get up and approach this guy with my tail between my legs I asked my son one more time, "Tell me what you said to this guy!!" Mikey answered ever so gently, "I went up to find you a chicken leg, I couldn't find one and so I told the scary man that my dad wanted a chicken leg. He looked around and said, "We have no chicken legs left, ask your dad if he wants a thigh?" MY SON NEVER SAW ME AS HAPPY AS I WAS AT THAT MOMENT!!! What a relief..I think my kids learned a valuable lesson that day....Don't hang out with dad...He's trouble!!!!

Maybe I should write him a letter...

Fri, 13 Oct 2006 10:12:25 -0600

What is about me that I get so scared of? Is it more about what I'm capable of, or what I won't ever get to accomplish? It's easy to face my mortality when nothing changes. (I'm not getting anywhere here...yet everyone else seems to be moving right along).... When I run real fast, or swim for miles, or compare myself to the stiff, old crabby guy next door, it's easy to think that I'm invincible. SUPER MIKE!! (Insert Orchestral Hit here.)
 I guess I'm scared of living too long and seeing those I love just wither away.....I guess that I'm also scared of getting passed by or becoming out-dated like the moldy bread you find in the back of the cupboard...What once was good,new and fresh becomes instant trash..hmmmm..The guy next door-I don't want that for me....It's difficult to imagine that he was my age at one time......was he always crabby??? Did he become crabby because he became more and more forgotten...unnoticed....in the way....a burden??? It's wierd how one could be, "in the way", and "unnoticed" at the same time.......Great! I'm destined to become a living oxymoron!!!! Nice...

I have nothing against Mr. Paladino next door.. I think it's cute how he finds it necessary to meet the mailman at the door.. Without a word he snatches the mail, turns around and shuts the door.....No,"Good afternoon"...no, "Thank you"...no, "Hey nice weather we're havng" Nothing! Maybe he didn't get the letter he was waiting for....maybe he's just tired of it all.....Maybe he was just like me...scared...confused...depressed...alone.........Maybe I should write him a letter.