Up On The Roof

 I think it was 1971-72’ A couple pals and I had made our way over to the Rutgers Athletic Center to catch Laura Nyro in concert. The RAC was a cool place for a show..... close, general admission, and easy to sneak in. Sneaking in was half the fun. We never considered that maybe the cost of admission was helping to pay the artist. Ah.....youth.

First attenmpt, walking through the front door. No good. Second attempt, climbing the tree on the side of the RAC that led to the men’s room. Usually reliable. Tonight locked. This called for Plan C......chipping in for one ticket and the unlocking of the bathroom window. Straws were drawn and Ronnie (great drummer) went in. Turned out the men’s room was closed and the locker room was being used in its stead. Now it was the dreaded every man for himself. Remember where the car was and see ya inside or, hopefully, after the show.

I moseyed (spelling) around back to the loading dock. Everything locked up tighter than a crab’s ass. And, as my best pal Rock would say, ”that’s water tight!“ I took a seat on the upper step of the dock close enough to enjoy the aromas emanating from the dumpster. It seemed I had run out of options. I hopped off the dock just as a black stetch limo came around the corner. I stood there as the car pulled up and stopped. The driver got out and opened the back door. A witchy, kind looking lady got out and as I put out my arm. I said, “Welcome to New Brunswick.” She took my arm, gave me a warm smile and her eyes pierced me. I immediately fell in love. I didn’t know what would transpire in the next few minutes but we ascended the loading dock stairs and as we reached the doors....they opened. Busted? I gently handed her off to the RAC welcoming committee and as they went left, I went right. She gave me one last look, and a smile, that said, “ Nice move, dude.“

I hooked up with an inviting group and my buddy with the lone ticket. We convinced our new friends to join us (drive us) to the River Road Tavern, post show. And there was our crew. Racks of pool and frosted mugs followed and the night, for me, evaporated into the ether of legend. I’m not sure if the guys believed my story or not. Didn’t matter. Laura Nyro and her piano owned the Rutgers Athletic Center, and a chunk of my heart, that night. I hadn’t really been a fan. Just seemed like a fun way to kill a Fri/Sat nite. I was a fan after that. She left the earth in 1997. Too soon. Her birthday was yesterday. I’m late.....she was right on time. “Can you surrey?” Peace........

5Chuck Winch, Michael James and 3 others

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Ba - Boom!

It was so much more fun when Donald was in the house, wasn’t it?  Oh.......the wrenching of hands..the exploding of heads......the gnashing of teeth. I used to love to toss in the occasional grenade, sit back and enjoy the mayhem. That’s the weird, sadistic, black comedy side of me. Blame National Lampoon, Mad Magazine, SNL (when it was funny) Cheech and Chong, Far Side, Family Guy etc.

I used to depend on FB for my daily 10 minutes of political fix. Now I don’t know what I’m supposed to believe. Are the latest Fauci rants liberal or conservative? I can’t tell. But I hope he’s got a PR guy. Book...TV movie. It’s comin’. The Sunday morning shows are still fairly entertaining but...oh....for a 2018 Sun morning. The indignation! I’m down to the first 15 mins of the five o’ clock CBS news. New York, of course. Tells me all I really need to know. The rest is opinions and fluff. Nothing wrong with that. Remember the Seinfeld where Jerry’s girlfriend broke up with him because she caught his act and thought it was “just so much fluff?” He says,”You can’t go by a Mon nite crowd.”

I long for a time gone by when you could say stuff. Everyone’s scared sh$&#less to give an “honest” opinion. Watching the contortions as commentators and politicians struggle for the ”correct” words and phrases is somewhat entertainng.....but......I need more. We need someone to add thought balloons. Get on It you creative types. C’mon man, let’s put the fun back in funky!

Geeez....this was just gonna be a quick comment. At least I got to put off changing my strings for another day. Goin’ fishin’. Hope no fish bother me. Peace....

An addendum: (an hour later) In 1972 as I was picking up some credits at Middlesex County college waiting to get drafted. (picked up the credits..never got drafted), I “worked” on the college magazine called Flux. Small staff. We did just about nothing but had a cool office to kill time between classes. An interesting group of characters would drop in and out. The first time I met “big” Steve Worowski was at the Flux office. He was hangin’ out....workin’ the room. I walked in. He handed me a National Lampoon. It was open to a page with a picture of a grinning Dwight Eisenhower and the caption, “Hi! I’m still dead!” Man, did we laugh! He had a great laugh.

Many, many years later we played together in a band called The Movers. He was a blues man. Had some great music discussions with that guy interrupted only by gasping for air laughs. His minutiae knowledge would leave me in the dust. He could make me laugh and piss me off at the same time. That’s a gift. The last time I saw Steve he was in a coma at a hospital in Hackettstown. I left a copy of National Lampoon on his bed and said adios.......

Seems like only yesterday.......

    

  Happy 50th birthday to NPR! Uh...Oh.  I think I just got scrolling whiplash from my conservative friends. Fear not, brothers and sisters, I'm one of you. Oh no...whiplash to the left of me. Fear not comrades, I'm one of you, too. But....how can that be? We have met the enemy and it is....us. Who woulda thought? More on that later.

     NPR, National Public Radio, turns 50 tomorrow, May 3rd, 2021. C'mon man. Hangin' in for fifty years in anything deserves some kind of recognition, grudging or otherwise. For almost thirty years, till a pandemic layoff, I was a limo driver in and around the tri state area. Radio was my constant companion, a necessity for traffic reports and for a world connection. From Terry Gross to Mark Levin,  from Boomer to Howard, and to the wild west of Sirius radio, we would kill time at the tunnels and bridges together. Sirius has changed the landscape, but to everyone's amazement, terrestrial radio's continued to hang in. Pundits be damned! AM radio was still my first go-to to check the status of the planet, know which construction sites to avoid and, if the President was coming to town, where and when we could expect to encounter FROZEN ZONES! Also to see just how well we all fared overnight. Some days better than others. I remember the Sept day when I jumped on rt 78 west after a dropoff at Newark Airport. A cloud over lower Manhattan was filling my rear view mirror. Radio on, and I was off for the next week We all were. As a kid Rambling with Gambling would wake me up with "Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag and smile, smile, smile." Smile?! What're you nuts?! I gotta spend the rest of the day with the Sisters of (no) Mercy! I don't like to use the word hate but I really came to dislike that song. And what is a kit bag, anyway?

     But Happy birthday NPR. I loved spending a chunk of my Fri afternoon with Ira Flaytow on Science Fri. Terry Gross does wonderful in depth interviews on Fresh Air and the Tiny Desk Concerts were like sparkling gems that would magically appear just when I needed them. Ok. NPR has an obvious left leaning bent to everything they do. But you know that going in and they do let the other guys in now and then, listening without demeaning, for the most part. Ahhh....Conversation. Remember conversation?  That doesn't mean I'm not open to some clever sarcasm. I am. Sometimes...many times..... I learn something, even if I do keep a grain of salt in close proximity. NPR hosts....well...all hosts... usually get in the last parting shot, even if the guest is long gone. That's the perk of being the host and controlling the faders. Fifty years, man. I was never a U2 fan but there's something to be said for longevity, for maintaining an audience, for just showing up. I'm becoming a U2 fan. Fifty years of public radio with support only from underwriters and you and me. Yes, I've written the occasional check. I drove NPR midday newscaster Lakshmi Singh once. The conversation went, Me: "Good morning Ms Singh. Your flight's on time." Lakshmi: "Thank you. Put on NPR please." She seemed slightly impressed when I said, "Philly or New York?" End of conversation. 

     The AM side of radio, decidedly conservative, unless there's two hosts, is more frantic... hurried. "We're up against a hard break." We're comin' to the top of the hour! Hurry! Hurry. Must sell the next weight loss plan. They have to. And sometimes frantic is good, too. I was getting a little weary of the "K- A - R - S, Cars for Kids" theme song but I always liked singing harmony and desecrating the words.  I enjoy a lot of the AM hosts. I enjoy a lot of the FM hosts. If you're going for more in depth, Sirius is the way to go. But it'll cost ya. Sometimes Gross will really get my Irish up. (Is that offensive? Get over it!) Sometimes Sean will make me want to reach through the radio and.....    You know what I do then? I change the station. Or turn off the radio. Sometimes quiet is nice. I don't write a letter or boycott a product. You can. I'm a grown up. I can take it. 

     Political correctness was just funny. The new "cancel culture" is sad. I'm not afraid to hear anything or let anyone have a forum. "Oh..so you LIKE Hitler!" Um....no...I don't like Hitler. Not even a little. The shutting down of alternative views on college campuses is...... weird. That used to be the bastion of free speech. Now alternative views are shouted down or disinvited. I saw this first hand when a filmmaker, whom I'd just dropped off at a NY college theater, jumped back in my car and said, "Get me back to civilization." He didn't even make it to the stage. A lot of comedians will no longer perform on college campuses. In the words of Jerry Seinfeld, "They've lost they're ability to laugh at things that are uncomfortable." I think I'm paraphrasing. I always found "uncomfortable" to be where the best comedy lives!  Some years back when things were just starting to get weird I was taking night courses at Rutgers and received my one and only college A. I disagreed with the professor on everything but on tests and papers regurgitated back to him everything he wanted to hear. After a full day of work I didn't have the energy for debate. I would even add a postscript thanking him for his insights and for opening my eyes to different social issues of which I was blindingly unaware. I'd get a lot of "Good job!" and "Great points!" I gotta admit feeling a little sleazy but....my only college A! My neighbor across the aisle, to her credit, would always take the contrarian side, on tests, papers and class discussions. Her efforts would come back covered with "Wrong!!" or "Read Tuesday's Times editorial on this!" Etc.  She wound up with a final C. Undeserved. She wasn't too happy with my strategy but occasionally we'd go to Tumulty's pub for the post class beer, anyway. 

     On my Thursday morning radio show ....PLUG!...WDVR FM 6am- 9.... I  play music and observe... ala, Jean Shepherd....life. I couldn't hope to shine his shoes but I give it a shot. He was the best. Christmas story!? C'mon!! Jean's elaborate, windings tales coming out of my parents radio from the next room would accompany me to that peaceful world of sleep. They really kept that radio obscenely loud. Kind of like I do now. So no time for politics on my airwaves unless it's a quick stick in the eye. A non partisan stick in the eye. Or as James Carville says, "Pawatisan." How he and Mary Matlin made it work all those years is one of life's great mysteries. Ya know, I really am a live and let live, love your neighbor, kind of guy but I can't pass up a good jab. It's the Mad Magazine, SNL (when it was funny), Far Side part of me. It's a conundrum. My cross to bear. I have to keep my mouth shut. A lot. And listening can be a wonderful thing. 

     I think I've mentioned this somewhere before but this kind of sums up life in America today and may bear repeating. One Thursday morning, post Trump/Hilary election,  I received a call from a woman who said she could no longer listen to my show as I was obviously in the tank....yeah... she said "in the tank"....for Hilary. Ok. See ya, yadda yadda, no hard feelings. I was a little disturbed. Until......two weeks later.....two weeks!....... I got a call from a guy who said he could no longer listen to my show as I was obviously a shill...yeah.... "shill".... for Donald Trump. Well. now I could play that next Critters song (Don Ciccone was my fill in guitar teacher. Look him up) with a clear conscience. Cigars all around. My work here was done. I pissed off both sides. By saying practically nothing! I fear the days of arguments on the Senate floor leading to Happy Hour truces are over. Pick your side and stick with it. Don't give an inch. Even if you spot some possible merit to an opposing argument. One misstep and your next moniker will be Persona non Grata. 

      Listen. No one's got the ultimate answer; the myriad religions, political parties, talking heads or you...or me. They all think they do. And, at times, we probably think we do, too. I guess confidence, even misdirected confidence, is good. I believe we'll find out, somewhere, sometime. Surprise! In the meantime be kind, be willing to listen to the other side, be able to give and take a jab and if you don't like what you're hearing.....change the station, channel, dialogue. Or, if you must, write a letter, boycott, protest. I don't have the time or frankly, interest, for that.  But you can! We're still able to do that.  But maybe.... you better hurry. Better yet, go play catch with your dog. He's always glad to see you.

 Happy birthday NPR!   Peace....... 

"There is a season......."

      I think I've mentioned this before, the old adage about why we humans evolved with two ears and one mouth. Prehistoric cave dwellers would hear the threat that's coming to eat them, then yell "Look out!" to their neighbor. Listening could save a life. Listening, real listening, seems to have faded. The recent election and Facebook posts pretty well confirm that. People no longer want to hear your opinion, even if they ask. They want to hear their opinion coming out of your mouth. I can't take credit for that bit of wisdom. And these days one can always find a source to back up their opinion. From then on, it's fact. I think I've said this before. It sounds familiar. 

    I'm turning sixty nine this month. My grandfather died when he was sixty nine. That's the first death I can really remember. I was eight. I remember the sweet smell of the funeral home and my grandmother's uncontrolled sobs. I remember the post funeral get together at our home in Plainfield, NJ and, for the first time, seeing my mother cry. It was a sudden death. Grandpa said he felt a lump in his chest and was going to lay down. He asked my grandmother to call the doctor. His last words were, "Someone could die without a doctor." Gram went in to check on him and he was gone. Not a bad way to go, I guess. 

    I read a statistic that said one hundred and fifty thousand people die on the planet each day. Three hundred thousand are born every day, give or take. Turn, Turn, Turn. I guess when I was younger my parents and grandparents contemporaries dying just didn't impact me much. They were old. They're supposed to die. Right? But now it's getting closer and closer to home. People that have been around most or all of my life are checking out. Some older...some younger. Most recently, Hammerin'  Hank Aaron, the home run king and two of TV's finest, Cloris Leachman and "Screech." And, in the last few years, some best friends. On the flip side, there's been some new additions to the family. The circle of life. We're given that segment of time in life where we can really shine if we choose to. Some segments, like athletics, are shorter than others. "The saddest words of voice or pen, are those that say, what might have been." On the other hand, thinking you've given something you're best shot, whatever the outcome, is as good as it gets. 

   In my book, Beyond The Red Barn, I recount a life after life experience that I may....or may not, have had. An article that I read on the internet (so it must be true), says it's been established that the brain lives on for an extended period after the body is clinically dead. So are all these NDE's merely dreams, hallucinations, the brain's way of giving us a grand send off? I choose to think not. They seem very real to the recipients. But they did come back. They didn't really, finally die. I, probably like you, have wondered, where were we for the billions and billions of millenia before we were born?  Maybe we're just not supposed to remember? Where will we be millenia from now after our sun dies out and our solar system and finally, our universe,  follows suit? Lots of theories out there. Pick yer' poison.

   The pandemic's given me plenty of time to think, to meditate, on these grand questions. But also the smaller questions. Why would anyone hire the Three Stooges to rewire their home? C'mon, man. They've gotta see that one comin'. I try to shut down every day for awhile; shut the TV off, shut the radio off and just think. Or not. Just stare. You'll eventually wind up thinking, anyway. Listen to the silence, the Universe...God.  In addition to lockdown, we've been snowed in for the last two days. And it's still coming down.  I've also been laid off since last March. Seems no one needs a limo these days. And gigs have been few and far between. But I've been, for a lazy bag o' bones, fairly productive. I've finished and published the aforementioned book, learned a bunch of new songs, finally finished a painting I dreamed  twenty years ago (and I can't paint...see above...), enrolled and unenrolled in a program to finish my college degree (someday), and have almost learned to juggle. My fellow radio DJ's and I have been doing our shows remotely from home so there's another skill, with help, that we've picked up. 

   I had a physical about six months ago and mentioned that I'm just not feeling well. The doc said he's hearing a lot of that lately. Symptoms of house arrest. You mean I really do need contact with other people? But I thought I really didn't like people. I miss seeing dogs. But I never thought I'd miss interacting with people. I guess I was wrong. I've never had a problem admitting I'm wrong. I'm wrong a lot. I have another physical at the end of this month. And except for some worsening arthritis and a detached bone in my foot, I ain't doing so bad. Hey man, I'm gonna be sixty nine! I will have to mention the increasing pandemic blues to the doc. He'll probably say "Join the club." But I must admit, I can see the light, still a ways off, at the end of the tunnel. Just a feeling. And not a bad one. As Joe Walsh says," Life's been good to me, so far." I still have a few things on my bucket list. Gonna have to heal that foot before I can go surfing in Hawaii. Tourist waves of course. Ahh...... Birthdays.....getting older. As my father used to say," Beats the alternative." We'll see, Pop!      Peace.