It's been almost a year since I introduced you all to Jimmy. The post titled Staying Away From Jimmy has received more hits than any other of my blogs. I closed the original by saying, "To be continued," yet I didn't. You may want to read it to refresh yourself.
Now, let me bring you up to date on what has happened to our good friend.
Jimmy went from the Juvenile Rehabilitation Center straight to prison, because he hadn't sufficiently rehabilitated. When he was finally released from prison he was missing a few teeth, caused by several run-ins with a former English professor, Mortimer, who also happened to be 250 pounds of solid muscle. Over the years, Mortimer decided to bulk up because he found that being intimidating was the only way to get his students to pronounce words correctly. When he heard an offending word, like someone pronouncing "height" like it had an "h" at the end, saying "heighth," he would slug them. This was frowned upon by the principal, superintendent, and law enforcement, so he ended up in the slammer.
Jimmy had the misfortune of being Mortimer's cellmate. Jimmy continued his pronoun abuse, and Mortimer found a good reason to use him as a punching bag. Jimmy also had problems with a few words, like "height," so Mortimer had several reasons to pound Jimmy into the ground.
It started like this. They were in their cell when Jimmy turned to Mortimer and said, "Can I axe you a question?"
Mortimer said, "Excuse me?"
"I need to axe you a question."
The fist came out of nowhere. "It's 'ASK' you moron."
"OK, OK. I just wanted to know if you had any idea why that guard, Bruno, was being so mischievous lately?" Unfortunately, he pronounced it "mis-chee-vee-us."
"What?"
Again, he pronounced it incorrectly. Mortimer's fist flew through the air.
"It's 'mis-chi-vous', idiot. Where did you learn to speak?"
"In school. The one acrossed from the high-tension wires."
"Acrossed? You mean 'across' don't you?" POW!!
"Stop hitting me! You make me want to excape."
"Escape!!" Mortimer screamed, landing another blow. "There's no x in escape, and while we're at it, there's no x in espresso either!"
"Owww!! I'm bleeding. I need to get a bandage in my draw."
"IT'S DRAWER!!!"
And that was just one day's English lessons.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Blocking the Net
I'm way past due in my blog posting activities, but I do have a semblance of an excuse since I was traveling for the past four weeks. My wife, Evelyn, and I spent that time touring Southeast Asia, Japan, and China, and had a thoroughly enjoyable time. We saw many wonderful things, not the least of which were the Great Wall of China ("Great" is an understatement) and the Terra Cotta Warriors in Xi'an, China.
Along the way, I posted one or two photos from each stop to my Facebook page, mostly so my friends would know I wasn't lying about my trip. I tried to make sure I was in most of the photos as proof, although security had some problems when I tried to climb down into the pit with the warriors. Those guards in China are way too serious.
During the time we spent in China I learned something, even though I knew it subconsciously. It wasn't until I experienced it myself did it come to the front of my mind - China blocks a lot of stuff on the Internet, including Facebook. The first day in China, when I tried to log on to Facebook to upload a photo, the page never came up, and I realized what was happening. I tried Twitter and had the same experience. Then I had an eerie feeling that my activities were being monitored.
I usually read two newspapers on my iPad, either through their websites or apps: The New York Times and my local paper, The St. Lucie News Tribune. I went to the Times' website - nothing. I tried the app but it wouldn't update. Then I tried the St. Lucie paper. I usually only read it for local news, like to see if anyone I know was arrested, but it does carry articles from the Times, AP, and other sources. Lo and behold the authorities in China are not yet aware of the St. Lucie News Tribune! I read the paper with reckless abandon. I devoured all the high school sports articles, letters to the editor, and the community calendar ( I saw that I missed an "Oxbow and the Natives" seminar on the spotted skunk at the Eco-Center while I was away - hopefully they'll repeat it). But I also read the world and national news. Democracy is safe!
Of course, as I prepare to post this, it occurs to me that my blog may now be in the crosshairs of China's Internet police. There's a possibility that I, too, may be blocked and I will lose 1.3 billion readers. Which is a shame for the Chinese people because next month I am planning to post my recipe for General Tso's Chicken.
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| The Great Wall of China |
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| Terra Cotta Warriors |
During the time we spent in China I learned something, even though I knew it subconsciously. It wasn't until I experienced it myself did it come to the front of my mind - China blocks a lot of stuff on the Internet, including Facebook. The first day in China, when I tried to log on to Facebook to upload a photo, the page never came up, and I realized what was happening. I tried Twitter and had the same experience. Then I had an eerie feeling that my activities were being monitored.
I usually read two newspapers on my iPad, either through their websites or apps: The New York Times and my local paper, The St. Lucie News Tribune. I went to the Times' website - nothing. I tried the app but it wouldn't update. Then I tried the St. Lucie paper. I usually only read it for local news, like to see if anyone I know was arrested, but it does carry articles from the Times, AP, and other sources. Lo and behold the authorities in China are not yet aware of the St. Lucie News Tribune! I read the paper with reckless abandon. I devoured all the high school sports articles, letters to the editor, and the community calendar ( I saw that I missed an "Oxbow and the Natives" seminar on the spotted skunk at the Eco-Center while I was away - hopefully they'll repeat it). But I also read the world and national news. Democracy is safe!
Of course, as I prepare to post this, it occurs to me that my blog may now be in the crosshairs of China's Internet police. There's a possibility that I, too, may be blocked and I will lose 1.3 billion readers. Which is a shame for the Chinese people because next month I am planning to post my recipe for General Tso's Chicken.
Friday, March 15, 2013
Participating in "The Next Big Thing"
This is a bit of a departure from my usual blog content. My friend, the author and blogger Christa Polkinhorn, invited me to be a part of a "blog chain" called "The Next Big Thing". The purpose is to give a preview of our current works-in-progress by answering some pre-set questions and to invite other authors to do it also. In doing so I'll provide links to Christa's blog and those I've invited so you can get an idea of their books and how they answer the same questions. Here are my answers:
What is the working title of your next book?
Who or what inspired you to write this book?
These are the authors who will be posting for The Next Big Thing on March 30. Check out their blogs and get to know their work.
John J. Tuite
What is the working title of your next book?
Raw Umber
What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?
Matt Corcoran, committed to a psychiatric hospital following a suicide attempt, is advised to write a journal to help him get to the root of his problems, and his journey of self-discovery leads him to unexpected places.
Matt Corcoran, committed to a psychiatric hospital following a suicide attempt, is advised to write a journal to help him get to the root of his problems, and his journey of self-discovery leads him to unexpected places.
Who or what inspired you to write this book?
The Bee Gees. No really, see the next question! Obviously this idea has been with me a very long time.
Where did the idea come from for the book?
Believe it or not, the idea of a person digging into his memory to answer how and why he ended up in a psychiatric hospital came from an old Bee Gees song from 1968 called World . It was pre-disco Bee Gees, when they sounded more like the Beatles than K.C. and the Sunshine Band. In other words, good (sorry disco fans). The lyrics "If I remember all of the things I have done / I'd remember all of the times I've gone wrong / Why do they keep me here" always made me picture the situation of someone who is institutionalized who wants to forget his past but is forced to remember it.
What genre does your book fall under?
Literary Fiction - it seems to be the type of book I'm most comfortable writing, since that's what most of my reading over the years has consisted of.
What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?
Johnny Depp or Joseph Gordon-Levitt would make a great Matt Corcoran. Sally Field as his mother; Christopher Mintz-Plasse (the guy who played McLovin in Superbad) would be great as Matt's obsessive-compulsive roommate, Larry. Tracy Jordan could be Jimmy Carter (you'll have to read the book), and maybe John Goodman as Dr. Frank Friedman.
Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?
I'm still undecided. There are pros and cons for both although I may try to get an agent with the hopes of getting wider distribution with a bigger publisher. But I'd also lose a lot of the control I currently enjoy as an Indie author, not to mention the time it would take to find an agent, then a publisher, and then get the book out.
How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?
I'm still working on the first draft; hope to have it completed within the next six months. Too many distractions and other responsibilities (excuses, excuses) make it difficult for me to be a "write every day" author, although I know I should be, and wish I could.
What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest is the obvious answer. It combines humor and pathos in the setting of a psychiatric hospital.
What else about the book might pique the reader's interest
The fact that it's written as Matt's journal, in his cynical yet humorous voice, makes Matt a sympathetic figure, and the ending will surprise everyone.
The fact that it's written as Matt's journal, in his cynical yet humorous voice, makes Matt a sympathetic figure, and the ending will surprise everyone.
These are the authors who will be posting for The Next Big Thing on March 30. Check out their blogs and get to know their work.
John J. Tuite
Monday, February 18, 2013
Believing Anything
There's never a shortage of people who are willing to believe almost anything, no matter how nonsensical, if it supports a previously held worldview or sometimes because it tugs at the heartstrings. Without getting into petty politics, this is seen from extremists at both ends of the political spectrum, from the "birthers" on the far right to the "9/11 truthers" mostly on the far left. It doesn't matter that there is no shred of real evidence to support either of these beliefs. They see conspiracy where none exists and no one can change their minds.
If there are people willing to believe those extreme theories, it's no surprise that there are more mundane examples of this phenomenon that have been in wide circulation at one time or another in the recent past. Thanks to email, Facebook, and other Internet sites, these rumors and scams get spread quickly and exponentially, with the click of a mouse, and no one sharing these items ever thinks to verify them.
There is a Facebook phenomena of various types showing a person holding a white board containing a message pleading for X number of "likes" in order to attract attention for their disease / financial difficulties / soldier who needs a job, etc. In reality, a photograph is taken of a person with a blank whiteboard. The message is then changed electronically, depending on the plight du jour. But it's so tempting to like a photo of a cute little kid who will go to Disney World if he gets a million likes.
People continue to believe that if they forward a particular email to X number of people, or "like" or leave a comment on some Facebook posts, something hysterically funny is going to appear on their computer screen. It never does. Yet the same people keep following the instructions waiting for that elusive punch line.
What the original posters of both the examples above want is for Facebook to see a high level of activity on their post. Facebook gives greater exposure to pages with high activity, and this can result in revenues for the poster. Even worse, some lead you to apps that can give your computer a virus. A good explanation can be found in this article.
If you use Facebook even casually you've no doubt seen a post saying that a certain month will have five Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays and it's the first time that has happened in 800 years, or something to that effect. Nonsense. Any 31-day month will have three consecutive days five times, beginning with the day of the week the 1st of the month falls. Seven months have 31 days ("30 days hath September ..." - do you remember that little memory device?) So it happens seven times a year. It's not a miracle - it's the Gregorian Calendar. We've been using it since 1582!
Bill Gates is not going to give you $5,000 for forwarding an email, and you're not getting free merchandise from anyone. Yet I keep getting emails or see Facebook posts from people with a message saying, "You never know. It's worth a shot!" No it isn't. Stop wasting your time, and more importantly my time, with this nonsense. Not to mention you're clogging up the bandwidth and slowing down my download of Hot Hits From the 60s.
All anyone needs to do is check www.snopes.com to verify if something is true. The problem is the people who are already inclined to believe something is true, especially if it plays into their already rigidly held beliefs, never doubt its veracity to begin with, and just pass it along. We'll probably be seeing this type of thing continue indefinitely because no matter how cynical we can be at times, we still are hopeful enough that the big payoff is just around the corner.
And by the way, if you send the link to this blog to ten people, the most amazing thing you will ever see will appear on your computer screen. And Warren Buffet will put you in his will. Trust me. Would I lie?
If there are people willing to believe those extreme theories, it's no surprise that there are more mundane examples of this phenomenon that have been in wide circulation at one time or another in the recent past. Thanks to email, Facebook, and other Internet sites, these rumors and scams get spread quickly and exponentially, with the click of a mouse, and no one sharing these items ever thinks to verify them.
There is a Facebook phenomena of various types showing a person holding a white board containing a message pleading for X number of "likes" in order to attract attention for their disease / financial difficulties / soldier who needs a job, etc. In reality, a photograph is taken of a person with a blank whiteboard. The message is then changed electronically, depending on the plight du jour. But it's so tempting to like a photo of a cute little kid who will go to Disney World if he gets a million likes.
People continue to believe that if they forward a particular email to X number of people, or "like" or leave a comment on some Facebook posts, something hysterically funny is going to appear on their computer screen. It never does. Yet the same people keep following the instructions waiting for that elusive punch line.
What the original posters of both the examples above want is for Facebook to see a high level of activity on their post. Facebook gives greater exposure to pages with high activity, and this can result in revenues for the poster. Even worse, some lead you to apps that can give your computer a virus. A good explanation can be found in this article.
If you use Facebook even casually you've no doubt seen a post saying that a certain month will have five Saturdays, Sundays, and Mondays and it's the first time that has happened in 800 years, or something to that effect. Nonsense. Any 31-day month will have three consecutive days five times, beginning with the day of the week the 1st of the month falls. Seven months have 31 days ("30 days hath September ..." - do you remember that little memory device?) So it happens seven times a year. It's not a miracle - it's the Gregorian Calendar. We've been using it since 1582!
Bill Gates is not going to give you $5,000 for forwarding an email, and you're not getting free merchandise from anyone. Yet I keep getting emails or see Facebook posts from people with a message saying, "You never know. It's worth a shot!" No it isn't. Stop wasting your time, and more importantly my time, with this nonsense. Not to mention you're clogging up the bandwidth and slowing down my download of Hot Hits From the 60s.
All anyone needs to do is check www.snopes.com to verify if something is true. The problem is the people who are already inclined to believe something is true, especially if it plays into their already rigidly held beliefs, never doubt its veracity to begin with, and just pass it along. We'll probably be seeing this type of thing continue indefinitely because no matter how cynical we can be at times, we still are hopeful enough that the big payoff is just around the corner.
And by the way, if you send the link to this blog to ten people, the most amazing thing you will ever see will appear on your computer screen. And Warren Buffet will put you in his will. Trust me. Would I lie?
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Talking Business
First, I'd like to congratulate the winner of the contest from my last blog post. Ruth Berge answered all three questions correctly and won an autographed copy of the award-winning Protecting the Cittern. The questions and answers are:
1) How many grandchildren do I have? Two
2) How many cups of tea did I (allegedly) drink? 17 - I really didn't drink that much tea, but that's what I wrote!
3) What college did my daughter go to? Richard Stockton College
After having survived thirty-plus years in the corporate world, one of the things that struck me during that time is how companies use words and phrases as euphemisms to make their employees' situations seem better than they are, or for their functions to seem more important, with the goal of getting as much work out of them for as little pay as possible. Many of these words and phrases have become annoying cliches, which writers are taught to avoid as much as possible.
For example, I used the word "employees" in the paragraph above. In actuality, they are now almost universally called "associates", as if they really have a stake in the fortunes of the company they work for, or that they are all equals. In reality there's a vast difference between the associate in the corner office and the associate in the mail room.
Associates are always urged to "think outside the box". Apparently it's too dark inside the box to come up with any new ideas. With some of the news in the recent past of management decisions in the field of banking, oil exploration, and elsewhere, management should be advised, very simply, to just think.
These associates are all told, usually during their performance reviews, that they need to "give 110%", sometimes even 1,000%, over the next period in order to justify their 1.5% raise. Obviously management needs a crash course in math. If 100% doesn't "cut the mustard", unless they have a cloning lab in the back office, good luck getting the rest.
The Human Resources department - at least they tacitly acknowledge that the employee / associate is human - gives lip service to making sure said employee / associate strikes the proper "work / life" balance. Which I guess means to give 110% to the office and −10% to your life. Unless you're really committed to your job and go for the 1,000% you'd have to give −900% to your home life. I see a divorce in the future, or at best a nervous breakdown. Anyone who strikes a 50/50 work / life balance will soon have no job to go to.
Occasionally, some slacker will be found to be giving only 90% of their time to work, letting down his co-workers who have set up cots in the break room. This person is obviously not a "team player". Management arranges for "team building exercises" in an idyllic setting in the country, on the weekend so no work time is lost. So instead of being home mowing the lawn or cleaning the gutters, people spend the weekend falling backwards into the waiting arms of their co-workers, making a contraption out of random materials that will catch an egg dropped from two stories up without breaking, having a group hug, telling each other a personal secret no one knows, and other exciting activities. The only people getting anything out of all this are the people who run these team building retreats and collect a large fee. The associates go back to work Monday ashamed that now everyone knows they wet the bed until they were seventeen.
After all this, the company still is not making enough money. Not only can they not afford to give the associate a 1.5% raise, they need to cut back, or "right-size" the company. Some associates are now doomed to be ex-associates and will have much more time in the "life" side of the balance than the "work' side. The "lucky" associates who will remain employed must now pick up the slack for the former associates, and as a result give approximately one million percent. Because of the right-sizing, the team building exercises were in vain. There is no one left on the team to work with.
1) How many grandchildren do I have? Two
2) How many cups of tea did I (allegedly) drink? 17 - I really didn't drink that much tea, but that's what I wrote!
3) What college did my daughter go to? Richard Stockton College
After having survived thirty-plus years in the corporate world, one of the things that struck me during that time is how companies use words and phrases as euphemisms to make their employees' situations seem better than they are, or for their functions to seem more important, with the goal of getting as much work out of them for as little pay as possible. Many of these words and phrases have become annoying cliches, which writers are taught to avoid as much as possible.
For example, I used the word "employees" in the paragraph above. In actuality, they are now almost universally called "associates", as if they really have a stake in the fortunes of the company they work for, or that they are all equals. In reality there's a vast difference between the associate in the corner office and the associate in the mail room.
Associates are always urged to "think outside the box". Apparently it's too dark inside the box to come up with any new ideas. With some of the news in the recent past of management decisions in the field of banking, oil exploration, and elsewhere, management should be advised, very simply, to just think.
These associates are all told, usually during their performance reviews, that they need to "give 110%", sometimes even 1,000%, over the next period in order to justify their 1.5% raise. Obviously management needs a crash course in math. If 100% doesn't "cut the mustard", unless they have a cloning lab in the back office, good luck getting the rest.
The Human Resources department - at least they tacitly acknowledge that the employee / associate is human - gives lip service to making sure said employee / associate strikes the proper "work / life" balance. Which I guess means to give 110% to the office and −10% to your life. Unless you're really committed to your job and go for the 1,000% you'd have to give −900% to your home life. I see a divorce in the future, or at best a nervous breakdown. Anyone who strikes a 50/50 work / life balance will soon have no job to go to.
Occasionally, some slacker will be found to be giving only 90% of their time to work, letting down his co-workers who have set up cots in the break room. This person is obviously not a "team player". Management arranges for "team building exercises" in an idyllic setting in the country, on the weekend so no work time is lost. So instead of being home mowing the lawn or cleaning the gutters, people spend the weekend falling backwards into the waiting arms of their co-workers, making a contraption out of random materials that will catch an egg dropped from two stories up without breaking, having a group hug, telling each other a personal secret no one knows, and other exciting activities. The only people getting anything out of all this are the people who run these team building retreats and collect a large fee. The associates go back to work Monday ashamed that now everyone knows they wet the bed until they were seventeen.
After all this, the company still is not making enough money. Not only can they not afford to give the associate a 1.5% raise, they need to cut back, or "right-size" the company. Some associates are now doomed to be ex-associates and will have much more time in the "life" side of the balance than the "work' side. The "lucky" associates who will remain employed must now pick up the slack for the former associates, and as a result give approximately one million percent. Because of the right-sizing, the team building exercises were in vain. There is no one left on the team to work with.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Decking the Halls
With the Christmas season upon us, I thought it would be a good idea to post something suitable for the holiday. In addition, since you have honored me by putting me over the 100 follower threshold that I promised would result in a book giveaway, one of you will receive an autographed copy of the book of your choice. I'll ask three questions at the end of this post and whoever is the first to answer all three correctly will win. The only caveat is you must be a registered follower, either through Google or Networked Blogs. So make sure you sign up if you haven't yet.
Christmas carols help to bring out the joy of the season. Religious and secular songs celebrating the birth of Christ or Rudolph's pre-GPS abilities can be heard on television and the radio as soon as the last scraps of Thanksgiving dinner are ground up in the garbage disposal. I haven't seen it in years, but when I was younger, groups of people would go door to door to give a mini concert to their neighbors. Hearing various people of different ages sing these songs over the years has shown me that, as I've pointed out in previous posts, they sometimes have no idea what they're actually singing.
Some of the songs end up being populated by people whom I have never associated with Christmas. Olive, Barney, and Jeff come to mind. I'm sure there are others, but this trio has always stuck with me. "Who are they?" you ask. Let me enlighten you.
We all know the song about the aforementioned Rudolph, and how he was treated before he came to the rescue. Well, of course, "Olive, the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names."
The beautiful carol, "The First Noel", provided some revisionist biblical history when I heard someone sing, "Barney's the King of Israel".
And I couldn't help but feel sorry for poor Jeff, and cringe when I heard about his plight in "The Christmas Song" - "Jeff's nuts roasting on an open fire". Ouch!
In "Jingle Bells", many years ago, a very young singer thought the lyrics were "Oh what fun it is to ride with one horse, soap, and sleigh". I can only assume the soap was used to bathe the horse.
And lastly, one intrepid singer was heard to belt out, "Get dressed ye merry gentlemen". Which is a good idea since gentlemen should not be running around naked on Christmas day. Especially merry ones.
Time for the contest. The registered follower who is the first to answer all three questions correctly will receive an autographed copy of his or her choice of the award-winning books Protecting the Cittern or The Ibex Trophy. If the winner has an infinite amount of patience Raw Umber should be available before the millennium is out. The answers to all three questions can be found in one of the blog posts. Search and ye shall find.
1) How many grandchildren do I have?
2) How many cups of tea did I (allegedly) drink?
3) What college did my daughter go to?
Very easy. Good luck!
I want to wish you all a very happy holiday season and a healthy and prosperous 2013. Thanks for following my blog, and I'm looking forward to being in touch with all of you next year.
Christmas carols help to bring out the joy of the season. Religious and secular songs celebrating the birth of Christ or Rudolph's pre-GPS abilities can be heard on television and the radio as soon as the last scraps of Thanksgiving dinner are ground up in the garbage disposal. I haven't seen it in years, but when I was younger, groups of people would go door to door to give a mini concert to their neighbors. Hearing various people of different ages sing these songs over the years has shown me that, as I've pointed out in previous posts, they sometimes have no idea what they're actually singing.
Some of the songs end up being populated by people whom I have never associated with Christmas. Olive, Barney, and Jeff come to mind. I'm sure there are others, but this trio has always stuck with me. "Who are they?" you ask. Let me enlighten you.
We all know the song about the aforementioned Rudolph, and how he was treated before he came to the rescue. Well, of course, "Olive, the other reindeer, used to laugh and call him names."
The beautiful carol, "The First Noel", provided some revisionist biblical history when I heard someone sing, "Barney's the King of Israel".
And I couldn't help but feel sorry for poor Jeff, and cringe when I heard about his plight in "The Christmas Song" - "Jeff's nuts roasting on an open fire". Ouch!
In "Jingle Bells", many years ago, a very young singer thought the lyrics were "Oh what fun it is to ride with one horse, soap, and sleigh". I can only assume the soap was used to bathe the horse.
And lastly, one intrepid singer was heard to belt out, "Get dressed ye merry gentlemen". Which is a good idea since gentlemen should not be running around naked on Christmas day. Especially merry ones.
Time for the contest. The registered follower who is the first to answer all three questions correctly will receive an autographed copy of his or her choice of the award-winning books Protecting the Cittern or The Ibex Trophy. If the winner has an infinite amount of patience Raw Umber should be available before the millennium is out. The answers to all three questions can be found in one of the blog posts. Search and ye shall find.
1) How many grandchildren do I have?
2) How many cups of tea did I (allegedly) drink?
3) What college did my daughter go to?
Very easy. Good luck!
I want to wish you all a very happy holiday season and a healthy and prosperous 2013. Thanks for following my blog, and I'm looking forward to being in touch with all of you next year.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Remembering the Jersey Shore
I grew up in New Jersey. I lived there until 2007 when I moved to Florida and reinvented myself as a writer. This past week has brought out emotions in me about my home state that I didn't even realize were there. Hurricane Sandy, which had only a slight impact on Florida with tropical storm conditions from its outer bands, slammed into New Jersey with unprecedented force, causing monumental damage to its famed beaches. Lives were lost. People were left homeless, their houses turned into a pile of rubble. The damage extended far beyond New Jersey's shoreline. Flooding and heavy winds impacted many states in Sandy's path. New York was also hit hard, particularly Manhattan, Breezy Point, and Staten Island.
Seeing the photographs of Sandy's aftermath, and watching the benefit concert on Friday night, November 2, with storm footage shown between performances, I couldn't help but think about the time I spent "down the shore", and realize many of the things I most enjoyed about it were washed away. When I was a child, every Wednesday during the summer meant a day trip to Asbury Park. My father was a barber, and since his shop was open on Saturdays, he closed it on Wednesdays. We lived in Paterson in northern New Jersey, and Asbury Park was about a ninety-minute ride down the Garden State Parkway. It seemed like forever. You've probably heard of Asbury Park, even if you're not familiar with New Jersey. It's where Bruce Springsteen got his start, playing in the local clubs, particularly The Stone Pony.
I loved going on the rides that were on the boardwalk. It was a major achievement when I graduated from the kiddie rides to the "big kid" rides. Asbury Park's Convention Hall is also on the boardwalk. I remember walking into it with my sister, probably in 1965 - I would have been 13 and Silvana almost 15. We wandered into a free concert by The Temptations. At least I think it was free, nobody stopped us. Music was always a part of any trip down the shore. I would bring my transistor radio, prop it up against one of my sneakers that was holding down a corner of my beach blanket, and listen to WABC, the best radio station at the time. The first time I heard Light My Fire and A Whiter Shade of Pale was lying on that blanket, through that crappy speaker. Over the years the family trips expanded to include Sandy Hook and Beach Haven, the latter on beautiful Long Beach Island (LBI to the locals), with the Barnegat Lighthouse at its northern tip. I spent a lot of time in the ocean, swimming and body surfing back to shore on the waves.
When my friends and I finally got our driver's licenses we were able to go on our own. Seaside Heights was the place to go for us in the early '70s. Sometimes a few guys would go for a weekend, get a room at some fleabag motel and cram six of us in it. When we were able to untie our tongues and speak to a female, we'd actually have a date for the day. I have some fond memories of the few girls I dated during those years. We'd walk along the boardwalk, Grand Funk Railroad blaring from the arcades, and I would inevitably fail to win them prizes at those rigged games. But one of those girls became my wife, so fortunately my arcade skills weren't a factor.
My wife, Evelyn, and I have one daughter, Jennifer. The shore cycle began again, as we took her on the kiddie rides at Seaside Heights and watched her graduate to the big kid rides. Surprisingly, she also grew up and preferred going down the shore with her friends, rather than with me and my wife. She also ended up going to college in the area, Richard Stockton College to be exact, in Pomona near Atlantic City. Atlantic City's boardwalk was destroyed although the casinos got through the storm relatively unscathed. I'm not a gambler and only went to an Atlantic City casino once, when we were there for my daughter's graduation. One thing I learned - experienced gamblers do not like to play blackjack with an amateur.
As empty-nesters, Evelyn and I changed our beach-going routine and in the last ten or so years of living in New Jersey preferred Cape May, on the southern tip of the state. It was quieter, had cleaner beaches, a nice pedestrian mall with shops and restaurants, and I always managed to get a big bag of almonds at the Nut House.
A lot of great memories, many more than I want to bore you with, but you get the idea of how much the area meant to me, and to so many other people. It will take time - a lot of time - but I'm sure New Jersey will rebuild the areas into even better destinations. If your impression of the Jersey Shore is Snooki and her brain-dead friends, please don't believe it. The people there are wonderful. They are going through a difficult time, but they're resilient and will overcome this tragedy. You can't keep New Jerseyans down!
Seeing the photographs of Sandy's aftermath, and watching the benefit concert on Friday night, November 2, with storm footage shown between performances, I couldn't help but think about the time I spent "down the shore", and realize many of the things I most enjoyed about it were washed away. When I was a child, every Wednesday during the summer meant a day trip to Asbury Park. My father was a barber, and since his shop was open on Saturdays, he closed it on Wednesdays. We lived in Paterson in northern New Jersey, and Asbury Park was about a ninety-minute ride down the Garden State Parkway. It seemed like forever. You've probably heard of Asbury Park, even if you're not familiar with New Jersey. It's where Bruce Springsteen got his start, playing in the local clubs, particularly The Stone Pony.
I loved going on the rides that were on the boardwalk. It was a major achievement when I graduated from the kiddie rides to the "big kid" rides. Asbury Park's Convention Hall is also on the boardwalk. I remember walking into it with my sister, probably in 1965 - I would have been 13 and Silvana almost 15. We wandered into a free concert by The Temptations. At least I think it was free, nobody stopped us. Music was always a part of any trip down the shore. I would bring my transistor radio, prop it up against one of my sneakers that was holding down a corner of my beach blanket, and listen to WABC, the best radio station at the time. The first time I heard Light My Fire and A Whiter Shade of Pale was lying on that blanket, through that crappy speaker. Over the years the family trips expanded to include Sandy Hook and Beach Haven, the latter on beautiful Long Beach Island (LBI to the locals), with the Barnegat Lighthouse at its northern tip. I spent a lot of time in the ocean, swimming and body surfing back to shore on the waves.
When my friends and I finally got our driver's licenses we were able to go on our own. Seaside Heights was the place to go for us in the early '70s. Sometimes a few guys would go for a weekend, get a room at some fleabag motel and cram six of us in it. When we were able to untie our tongues and speak to a female, we'd actually have a date for the day. I have some fond memories of the few girls I dated during those years. We'd walk along the boardwalk, Grand Funk Railroad blaring from the arcades, and I would inevitably fail to win them prizes at those rigged games. But one of those girls became my wife, so fortunately my arcade skills weren't a factor.
My wife, Evelyn, and I have one daughter, Jennifer. The shore cycle began again, as we took her on the kiddie rides at Seaside Heights and watched her graduate to the big kid rides. Surprisingly, she also grew up and preferred going down the shore with her friends, rather than with me and my wife. She also ended up going to college in the area, Richard Stockton College to be exact, in Pomona near Atlantic City. Atlantic City's boardwalk was destroyed although the casinos got through the storm relatively unscathed. I'm not a gambler and only went to an Atlantic City casino once, when we were there for my daughter's graduation. One thing I learned - experienced gamblers do not like to play blackjack with an amateur.
As empty-nesters, Evelyn and I changed our beach-going routine and in the last ten or so years of living in New Jersey preferred Cape May, on the southern tip of the state. It was quieter, had cleaner beaches, a nice pedestrian mall with shops and restaurants, and I always managed to get a big bag of almonds at the Nut House.
A lot of great memories, many more than I want to bore you with, but you get the idea of how much the area meant to me, and to so many other people. It will take time - a lot of time - but I'm sure New Jersey will rebuild the areas into even better destinations. If your impression of the Jersey Shore is Snooki and her brain-dead friends, please don't believe it. The people there are wonderful. They are going through a difficult time, but they're resilient and will overcome this tragedy. You can't keep New Jerseyans down!
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