When I was a kid... once a week, the Book Mobile would come to our neighborhood. There was a wooded place where the Church is now and at the entrance to the woods was a big huge boulder. Around the boulder, to the left and right, were smaller ones. Huge trees covered the site with Summertime limbs of green that reached out only a few weeks before shading afternoons of Kool-Aid and Monopoly.
In the Fall the trees would release their colors and they would dam up all around the boulders. It would be an unreal sight for the kids to be up to their necks in a sea of leaves. The Book Mobile would pull up around 4PM and we'd go through it to get story books and then gather outside in the leaves to hear the Librarian read to us. It was actually almost warm in the depths of the fragrant fallen... our backs against the stone.
The Librarian would then come out, down two steps and read above us perched on golden lit stone with little heads popping out from the ground... our hands beneath crumbling leaves all around. Blustery wind but only above her... that huge stone shield... all was quiet and only her words could be heard from cover to cover. It was us, The Librarian,The Green Book Mobile, it's generator and it's lights... and the sunset at 5.
A week later, we all came back and like every year... the leaves were gone.
Last week... while working, I installed a replacement air conditioning blower on top of a library... windy and cold.... the heat came up through the air handler on the roof.... warm from below, I could smell the library. I thought of the Book Mobile... cold and warm.... the smell of it's books, "The Blustery Day", the leaves, the Librarian and the sound of her words.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
My Christmas Story
My Dion and My Carlo,
A Christmas Story from my past. I know... you guys heard it before.
Still... if you let yourself... drift... just a bit, you just might find yourself there with us... with me. Take a moment. Imagine... the house the way it was back then. Grandma... no gray hair, me with young and sparkly eyes... full of what was going to be that night. The chill in the air on Lawton Ave... a day, no school... the day of night's come true... from a windy morning's bright to the Christmas's of Christmas night. The emotions that are so true... I saw it all and once again I bring it to you.
My Christmas Story........
Of all the 62 Christmas's I've lived there's one that stays locked in my memory. May I say how it really happened to me. I give each word from my heart, the day from morning till night as I so vividly recall in... 1954. Christmas Eve.
I woke up knowing that there was no school. I smelled the air in my room as I got out of bed. That same scent of live steam was hissing from the radiator next to the window. This time it wasn't a reminder that my school uniform was hanging on the knob of the door. It was so fresh, that sound of security. I went to the window... 7a.m., dark grey... but it was still Friday and my Christmas Vacation had just begun. I went into the living room. I could see my mother down the hall in the kitchen. The tree lights were already lit and they'll stay lit till everyone goes to bed tonight. We used Mom's old measuring cup to fill the tree stand with water. You could see the lines on it, but not how much. Two cups? It was my job and I loved to crawl under the tree. "After you fill'er up you just roll over and stare straight up through the branches... if I could only climb up there." I'd look down and see me, wave and keep climbing. If I was that small of course.
My cousins lived "down stairs" in our two family house. They came up just in time to check out what I was doing. I didn't hear them come in. "Rock! Where are you?" My mother didn't miss a thing, "He's watering the tree!"
Eddy, Jeff and I spent a lot of time under the tree. We'd imagine how we could hide from each other, from branch to branch, "No cheating!" "I got the rocking horse!" "S-shhhh!" "Nobody talk."
Time went by that day and we went on and on about how we were going to be allowed to stay up late that night to see Santa and who was getting clothes instead of toys.
My mother was busy in the kitchen preparing another once a year holiday tradition... Linguine and Lobster Sauce! She'd always keep an eye out for us and found time to break out the hot chocolate. We even took a nap, in our robes, all in the same bed with two dining room chairs propped up next to it that was supposed to keep us from falling onto the floor. My Mom's idea.
For some reason my father would always have to work late on Christmas Eve. He always missed Santa. Yep! That's right, Santa would come to our house. All my Aunts and Uncles would come to our house to see Santa. There were lots of cousins at my house and they would all come to see Santa. Each year Santa would bring his big red sacks of gifts for everyone. (now check this out)
My Aunt Rose (Eddy's and Jeff's mom) and my Mom would put all our presents in those big red sacks. They were sewn from old sheets and dyed red. Pretty cool idea and as everyone would arrive, more and more sacks would get filled until "Santa's" cargo was ready.
Then came the phone call. Santa Claus was on the telephone. That's right. Each year about an hour before he would arrive he'd call us on the phone and we'd get to talk to him. All of us cousins would line up and get our chance to hear what Santa had to say. Usually I was last, something about being polite but this time Santa made it known when he first got on the phone that he had something important to say to me. I was so excited I just couldn't wait for when it was to be my turn. What could it be? I must be getting something special this year!
Finally I found myself sitting down on that big round chair by the phone. "Hi Santa! It's me, Rocky! How are you?" I couldn't believe my ears. Santa knew everything I got in trouble for that year. He didn't sound angry but I also didn't hear any, "Ho-Ho-Ho's" either. He just went over everything I did and told me how disappointed he was. He said good-bye. I hung up the phone and just stood there thinking, "I've gone and done it now." That was it for me. (it gets worse)
"Lights! Camera! Action!" Of course everyone had their movie cameras rolling. Of course! "All you kids sit on the couch! Santa's on his way! Yay!!!! I made believe the lights were bothering me to hide the tears of humiliation and embarrassment and impending doom. Then I heard the Jingle Bells. He was here and he was coming up the stairs. Now what? I can still hear him, "Merry Christmas! Oh, my aching back!"
I hardly heard anything after that. It was like slow motion laughter and ripping of gift wrap. I sat so trying to smile as all the presents were handed out...sack after, unbelievably RED, sack. There we were, all sitting on the floor in a multi colored sea of wrapping paper. At one point it was so high that I saw my little cousin Debbie come to the surface in her Christmas pajamas to wish me a "Merry Christmas, Wocky!"
I was doomed.
For some reason Santa must have started freaking out because he was babbling something in Italian to my mother! What? "Santa can speak Italian!" Then I thought, "That's how he knew everything about me." It was all to true about Santa and he was pretty upset. "Here it comes!" Looking at all the movie cameras. "Yep, they're getting all this. I was wishing it was last Summer and I was standing in my usual spot in "Right Field" waiting, where it was always nice and quiet.
Actually, Santa was asking my Mom "Where are his things?" She hadn't a clue. Here's what happened as my Mom told me the story. My Aunt "Ro" and my Mom always brought a bunch of empty sacks down the basement and as my other Aunts and Uncles showed up they'd fill them all evenly. Mom brought my gifts in one sack and her gifts and Dads gifts in another down to the basement earlier in the day while we were asleep. That evening as all my Aunts and Uncles showed up they filled the sacks and they forgot to mix my gifts in with everyone else's. To make matters worse, mine was the last sack.
Meanwhile as I was just about to sink beneath the waves when I heard, "For Rocky!" And then they came... one after another. They were being pulled from some magical, bright and beautiful, red, glowing, gift bag from the North! I was all by myself. I could hear my relatives "shushing" each other in the background as I ripped through the gift wrap. Each time, as I would finish with one grand opening, there would be Santa's hand reaching out to me with another.
I noticed something. He was wearing a ring. Santa had a ring on his finger just like my Dads. That was weird. That red ruby and diamond ring. Ok, so they both have the same ring. At that moment I stopped thinking and heard voices calling out "Merry Christmas Rocky!" Through all the tears joy, embarrassment and repentance I hurled myself at Santa. I wasn't doomed! I held on to him and hugged him wanting him to feel how happy I was!
"Hey..." I thought. "He even smells like, Old Spice!" I wiped my eyes and stared right into his.
Underneath that Santa Claus mask I saw his eyes. They were his eyes. I quickly pulled his arms from around me and grabbed his hand. The ring... his eyes... the tears. My Father! "Pop?" For just a moment we were eye to eye and then he said, "Merry Christmas Rock." And that's all he said. He gave me that squinting look of his and put his finger to his lips and shushed me. It was our secret. Now I know why he would always work late on Christmas Eve. My Pop was Santa Claus.
I don't remember what toys I got that year. They're overshadowed in long term memory loss by the image of those two guys as they walked out the living room door. "Santa" disappeared from me into the night. I was sure he left in a sleigh and sure enough my father came home just a bit later. He came over to me, put his finger up to his lips again, "Shhh..." We didn't discus it that night.
Santa comes back here each year and my Dad is now with him.
"Merry Christmas Pop!" You will always be my Santa Claus.
A Christmas Story from my past. I know... you guys heard it before.
Still... if you let yourself... drift... just a bit, you just might find yourself there with us... with me. Take a moment. Imagine... the house the way it was back then. Grandma... no gray hair, me with young and sparkly eyes... full of what was going to be that night. The chill in the air on Lawton Ave... a day, no school... the day of night's come true... from a windy morning's bright to the Christmas's of Christmas night. The emotions that are so true... I saw it all and once again I bring it to you.
My Christmas Story........
Of all the 62 Christmas's I've lived there's one that stays locked in my memory. May I say how it really happened to me. I give each word from my heart, the day from morning till night as I so vividly recall in... 1954. Christmas Eve.
I woke up knowing that there was no school. I smelled the air in my room as I got out of bed. That same scent of live steam was hissing from the radiator next to the window. This time it wasn't a reminder that my school uniform was hanging on the knob of the door. It was so fresh, that sound of security. I went to the window... 7a.m., dark grey... but it was still Friday and my Christmas Vacation had just begun. I went into the living room. I could see my mother down the hall in the kitchen. The tree lights were already lit and they'll stay lit till everyone goes to bed tonight. We used Mom's old measuring cup to fill the tree stand with water. You could see the lines on it, but not how much. Two cups? It was my job and I loved to crawl under the tree. "After you fill'er up you just roll over and stare straight up through the branches... if I could only climb up there." I'd look down and see me, wave and keep climbing. If I was that small of course.
My cousins lived "down stairs" in our two family house. They came up just in time to check out what I was doing. I didn't hear them come in. "Rock! Where are you?" My mother didn't miss a thing, "He's watering the tree!"
Eddy, Jeff and I spent a lot of time under the tree. We'd imagine how we could hide from each other, from branch to branch, "No cheating!" "I got the rocking horse!" "S-shhhh!" "Nobody talk."
Time went by that day and we went on and on about how we were going to be allowed to stay up late that night to see Santa and who was getting clothes instead of toys.
My mother was busy in the kitchen preparing another once a year holiday tradition... Linguine and Lobster Sauce! She'd always keep an eye out for us and found time to break out the hot chocolate. We even took a nap, in our robes, all in the same bed with two dining room chairs propped up next to it that was supposed to keep us from falling onto the floor. My Mom's idea.
For some reason my father would always have to work late on Christmas Eve. He always missed Santa. Yep! That's right, Santa would come to our house. All my Aunts and Uncles would come to our house to see Santa. There were lots of cousins at my house and they would all come to see Santa. Each year Santa would bring his big red sacks of gifts for everyone. (now check this out)
My Aunt Rose (Eddy's and Jeff's mom) and my Mom would put all our presents in those big red sacks. They were sewn from old sheets and dyed red. Pretty cool idea and as everyone would arrive, more and more sacks would get filled until "Santa's" cargo was ready.
Then came the phone call. Santa Claus was on the telephone. That's right. Each year about an hour before he would arrive he'd call us on the phone and we'd get to talk to him. All of us cousins would line up and get our chance to hear what Santa had to say. Usually I was last, something about being polite but this time Santa made it known when he first got on the phone that he had something important to say to me. I was so excited I just couldn't wait for when it was to be my turn. What could it be? I must be getting something special this year!
Finally I found myself sitting down on that big round chair by the phone. "Hi Santa! It's me, Rocky! How are you?" I couldn't believe my ears. Santa knew everything I got in trouble for that year. He didn't sound angry but I also didn't hear any, "Ho-Ho-Ho's" either. He just went over everything I did and told me how disappointed he was. He said good-bye. I hung up the phone and just stood there thinking, "I've gone and done it now." That was it for me. (it gets worse)
"Lights! Camera! Action!" Of course everyone had their movie cameras rolling. Of course! "All you kids sit on the couch! Santa's on his way! Yay!!!! I made believe the lights were bothering me to hide the tears of humiliation and embarrassment and impending doom. Then I heard the Jingle Bells. He was here and he was coming up the stairs. Now what? I can still hear him, "Merry Christmas! Oh, my aching back!"
I hardly heard anything after that. It was like slow motion laughter and ripping of gift wrap. I sat so trying to smile as all the presents were handed out...sack after, unbelievably RED, sack. There we were, all sitting on the floor in a multi colored sea of wrapping paper. At one point it was so high that I saw my little cousin Debbie come to the surface in her Christmas pajamas to wish me a "Merry Christmas, Wocky!"
I was doomed.
For some reason Santa must have started freaking out because he was babbling something in Italian to my mother! What? "Santa can speak Italian!" Then I thought, "That's how he knew everything about me." It was all to true about Santa and he was pretty upset. "Here it comes!" Looking at all the movie cameras. "Yep, they're getting all this. I was wishing it was last Summer and I was standing in my usual spot in "Right Field" waiting, where it was always nice and quiet.
Actually, Santa was asking my Mom "Where are his things?" She hadn't a clue. Here's what happened as my Mom told me the story. My Aunt "Ro" and my Mom always brought a bunch of empty sacks down the basement and as my other Aunts and Uncles showed up they'd fill them all evenly. Mom brought my gifts in one sack and her gifts and Dads gifts in another down to the basement earlier in the day while we were asleep. That evening as all my Aunts and Uncles showed up they filled the sacks and they forgot to mix my gifts in with everyone else's. To make matters worse, mine was the last sack.
Meanwhile as I was just about to sink beneath the waves when I heard, "For Rocky!" And then they came... one after another. They were being pulled from some magical, bright and beautiful, red, glowing, gift bag from the North! I was all by myself. I could hear my relatives "shushing" each other in the background as I ripped through the gift wrap. Each time, as I would finish with one grand opening, there would be Santa's hand reaching out to me with another.
I noticed something. He was wearing a ring. Santa had a ring on his finger just like my Dads. That was weird. That red ruby and diamond ring. Ok, so they both have the same ring. At that moment I stopped thinking and heard voices calling out "Merry Christmas Rocky!" Through all the tears joy, embarrassment and repentance I hurled myself at Santa. I wasn't doomed! I held on to him and hugged him wanting him to feel how happy I was!
"Hey..." I thought. "He even smells like, Old Spice!" I wiped my eyes and stared right into his.
Underneath that Santa Claus mask I saw his eyes. They were his eyes. I quickly pulled his arms from around me and grabbed his hand. The ring... his eyes... the tears. My Father! "Pop?" For just a moment we were eye to eye and then he said, "Merry Christmas Rock." And that's all he said. He gave me that squinting look of his and put his finger to his lips and shushed me. It was our secret. Now I know why he would always work late on Christmas Eve. My Pop was Santa Claus.
I don't remember what toys I got that year. They're overshadowed in long term memory loss by the image of those two guys as they walked out the living room door. "Santa" disappeared from me into the night. I was sure he left in a sleigh and sure enough my father came home just a bit later. He came over to me, put his finger up to his lips again, "Shhh..." We didn't discus it that night.
Santa comes back here each year and my Dad is now with him.
"Merry Christmas Pop!" You will always be my Santa Claus.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Perfect Timing
Listen I do and thinking of you.
As I always do... "Perfect Timing"
I always cry taking the test...
the Sun beginning to rest.
It's over my shoulder,
glowing to the right.
Heaven's beams in my tears...
leaves flashing, falling down.
I sat all day waiting for the right time.
It arrived with cold and gold... and red.
I want to see them again the way...
I used to put them to bed.
As I always do... "Perfect Timing"
I always cry taking the test...
the Sun beginning to rest.
It's over my shoulder,
glowing to the right.
Heaven's beams in my tears...
leaves flashing, falling down.
I sat all day waiting for the right time.
It arrived with cold and gold... and red.
I want to see them again the way...
I used to put them to bed.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Who is "You?"
After all is said and done... like you, like me... we're the leaders of our lives. First choice, freedom of choice... you and I, like all who are blessed as Americans, have that God given free will to decide if we are or are not to be.
Everything we own we are blessed by God to possess. We know this. Our parents before us knew it and so on and so on. Our right to consume and maintain with pride and dignity by what we earn is the truth behind everything we stand for. No matter what it costs... it sets us free.
While we're here we just rent a space in time and what we have by what we've earned, to the one's we love... we'll gladly leave behind.
I... do... what I do. It's my responsibility and mine alone. I am the leader of what "goes down" and "what's up" in my world. I am a Citizen and I pay my dues from living near a "Johny Pump" to paying at the gas pump.
Life is about you and who believes in you. It's simply too brief and too beautiful for anything else.
"Anything else."... my fellow American, is your right... not to believe in.
Everything we own we are blessed by God to possess. We know this. Our parents before us knew it and so on and so on. Our right to consume and maintain with pride and dignity by what we earn is the truth behind everything we stand for. No matter what it costs... it sets us free.
While we're here we just rent a space in time and what we have by what we've earned, to the one's we love... we'll gladly leave behind.
I... do... what I do. It's my responsibility and mine alone. I am the leader of what "goes down" and "what's up" in my world. I am a Citizen and I pay my dues from living near a "Johny Pump" to paying at the gas pump.
Life is about you and who believes in you. It's simply too brief and too beautiful for anything else.
"Anything else."... my fellow American, is your right... not to believe in.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Guilt + Gratitude = Attitude
The title says Guilt + Gratitude = Attitude
How simple is that?
We all know endless lists of sayings, proverbs and... words of wisdom. Today I submit this.
"Why?" is the basic reaction when we're confronted with people who have issues coping with who they are and they need to come off defensively when they should really be thankful we're there for them.
Why do people do what they do when they should simply appreciate and be thankful for how you treat them? I've always felt it just might be jealousy or envy, low self esteem, immaturity or selfishness. All that.
They're excuses that just don't cut it with me any longer.
If you truly appreciate someone... just show it.
Say it.
That is of course... if you can and you have what it takes.
Try not to let your guilt sway your ability to be grateful by substituting it with anger.
May I present a simple equation...
Guilt + Gratitude = Attitude
One last thing. Those same people will read this and what I've said will piss them off.
Gratitude... a little goes a long way.
How simple is that?
We all know endless lists of sayings, proverbs and... words of wisdom. Today I submit this.
"Why?" is the basic reaction when we're confronted with people who have issues coping with who they are and they need to come off defensively when they should really be thankful we're there for them.
Why do people do what they do when they should simply appreciate and be thankful for how you treat them? I've always felt it just might be jealousy or envy, low self esteem, immaturity or selfishness. All that.
They're excuses that just don't cut it with me any longer.
If you truly appreciate someone... just show it.
Say it.
That is of course... if you can and you have what it takes.
Try not to let your guilt sway your ability to be grateful by substituting it with anger.
May I present a simple equation...
Guilt + Gratitude = Attitude
One last thing. Those same people will read this and what I've said will piss them off.
Gratitude... a little goes a long way.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
I Know
There are things I do that mask over the hands of time and bring happiness to the present.
I do what I do.
Talent, talent... talents and with both hands so many I did and still do.
They ice over good and bad... what I haven't and what I've had.
I'm vulnerable... an easy target, "... this is you."
True until death
My passions see me through.
I do what I do.
Talent, talent... talents and with both hands so many I did and still do.
They ice over good and bad... what I haven't and what I've had.
I'm vulnerable... an easy target, "... this is you."
True until death
My passions see me through.
Friday, April 11, 2008
The Curse of the Caul
All through my life I have been confronted with situations and peoples choices to either do good by me or not. I never understood why after my involvement, which could have gone one way or the other... all who did good by me... met with good and all who chose to do bad... got bad.
I can not put it into simpler terms.
I have been like a "crossroad" for everyone who has had personal contact with me. I want to express what all this means to people I meet but... it's a bit much for most to grasp.
My code of life for all who know me. "You do good, You get good." There's only one thing I leave out ... doing it "by ME."
I've witnessed so many who came to that crossroad and encounter me and their destiny. I've been told by people who love me that I'm such an, "easy target".
Understanding... now... who and what I am has convinced me of how destiny effects life... and death.
We do what we do.
Monday, April 7, 2008
What is "Why"
Why... ?
There's no answer.
My friends have them all.
I listen to all of them...
each and every one.
I can ask myself again,
and again...
but my sons are still not here.
What did I do?
They stay away and with her.
What can I do but...
what I do?
Does anyone miss me?
Every day, all their lives,
I was there even when she...
chose to be away.
All the answers,
still the same.
"... have no guilt, you're not to blame."
Still the same. I ask why
and tuck myself in.
To my boys... good bye.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Busy at work... making it work.
The boy is sitting almost at my feet...
toying around with his machine.
Build your computer little kid/almost a man.
I'm happy tonight... play away, parts everywhere
Busy with figuring if that will fit... will it?
Ask me questions... what's this made of?
Just a part made of metal... cold rolled.
He's a busy guy... with a whistle as he works.
I'm helping him and he's happy about it too.
toying around with his machine.
Build your computer little kid/almost a man.
I'm happy tonight... play away, parts everywhere
Busy with figuring if that will fit... will it?
Ask me questions... what's this made of?
Just a part made of metal... cold rolled.
He's a busy guy... with a whistle as he works.
I'm helping him and he's happy about it too.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
"Bedtime"
My sons, how much we always did.
The moment you were born...
all the love, so privileged, I'd give.
Times asleep dreaming through...
high above a cloud.
Eyes quivering so gently shut
next to you... I'm so proud.
Two boys astray?
kids being curious...
seeing things your way,
I'd get furious.
When the lights went out
still...
never without.
I was with you, beside you.
Times asleep dreaming through...
high above a cloud.
My dreams all of you... all I have,
all I'm still allowed.
The moment you were born...
all the love, so privileged, I'd give.
Times asleep dreaming through...
high above a cloud.
Eyes quivering so gently shut
next to you... I'm so proud.
Two boys astray?
kids being curious...
seeing things your way,
I'd get furious.
When the lights went out
still...
never without.
I was with you, beside you.
Times asleep dreaming through...
high above a cloud.
My dreams all of you... all I have,
all I'm still allowed.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Raining and Warm
Raining and Warm
I turned the heat up tonight.
All around... all the rain,
hey... it could have been snow.
Something tells me it's going to be a quiet night.
There's just me and the heat.
I'm going to make a cup of tea.
Fresh water coming down, it's filling up my cup.
Me, my tea...from the rain and keeping warm.
I'll be sipping sky... and feeling thoughts.
I turned the heat up tonight.
All around... all the rain,
hey... it could have been snow.
Something tells me it's going to be a quiet night.
There's just me and the heat.
I'm going to make a cup of tea.
Fresh water coming down, it's filling up my cup.
Me, my tea...from the rain and keeping warm.
I'll be sipping sky... and feeling thoughts.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
In My Heart Tonight
There... every day, with them every night.
It's all still so clear and I am still him.
"Tuck us in."... the nightly joy... always ready.
Being fair... even steven... love each as one.
Having fun... mine my life with my sons.
Imagine this... we can do that... make it work.
Round and round building with parts... never apart.
"Poppi's boy and my Bupps... we never did too much.
As such... I find myself without them now.
They choose and so I lose... so far away...
I move on and much older now,
to live for another day.
It's all still so clear and I am still him.
"Tuck us in."... the nightly joy... always ready.
Being fair... even steven... love each as one.
Having fun... mine my life with my sons.
Imagine this... we can do that... make it work.
Round and round building with parts... never apart.
"Poppi's boy and my Bupps... we never did too much.
As such... I find myself without them now.
They choose and so I lose... so far away...
I move on and much older now,
to live for another day.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
What is "My Boys"?
What is "My Boys"?
It's two words that will always be.
In the daytime when I'm alone,
when it's cold... it changes me.
I go from shiver to cozy...
nice and easy and my morning cup.
Those words and who they are.
No matter how tough it gets...
I see when I close my eyes,
where... I need to be.
I go from here to there...
nice and easy throughout the day.
With "My Boys" in my mind I return.
The greeting has been a changin'.
Now it's more eye to eye.
My God, they are sure a growin'.
I go from day to day... "My Boys"
nice and easy my dreams and you.
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