Fuuurrrtherrrr....................

You can really tell you're getting old when you start seeing your past come around again. Case in point......band reunions. A lot of the old bands from the 60's and 70's have been reuniting ...successfully.... and it's pretty cool. I'm talking local Jersey bands. Kinderhook....The Doughboys...The Good Rats. Jersey had a great club scene in the 70's. A band could easily play seven nights a week if so inclined. My personal high was nine nights in a row including two afternoon gigs with a band called Sundown. Two guitars and a bass. A lean, mean, giggin' machine. Not a great band but not too bad. Lots of vocals. People love vocals. I love vocals. We used to overload the harmonies to get the girls out 'cause the boys would be right behind 'em. There's yer crowd. "Ooooh's" for bucks as we'd say. Crass?

Times, sensitivities, values have changed. For the better. My first full time band was Freewheelin'. Old pals who were in the right place at the right time playing the right kind of music. The mid seventies saw a big country rock boom on the Jersey scene, ala Flying Burrito Brothers, Poco, Grateful Dead, New Riders, etc. And we jumped on board. This was the stuff we were playing anyway and it appeared that the scene caught up to us. The drinking age was eighteen, liberality abounded and...... lots of gigs. But, and I've mentioned this in other blogs, I can't believe we survived. We did stupid things. We got around in a Volkswagen camper. Four guys, no seat belts, three in the front and one in the jump seat, jammed full of equipment, plenty of beer and other treats, working on harmonies all the way to the gig. Then we'd do it again at two o' clock in the morning......usually minus one or two guys. And, as trite as it sounds, everyone was doing it. Even if we got stopped by a cop he'd just give us a warning or confiscate the beer. Again, how did we survive? Well, we had my pal Rock at the wheel. He was Neal Cassady to our Merry Pranksters. (I refer you to Tom Wolfe's "The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test.") Unthinkable today....and rightly so. It really does make you think someone was watching. Freewheelin' was a good, rockin' crowd pleasin' dance band.....once on stage. It was the gettin' to the gig, startin' on time, makin' it back from breaks, publicity, dress, dealing with club owners thing that we could never quite get.

The aforementioned Kinderhook was the top of the line country rock band at the time and they kind of took us under their wing. They let us open for them a few times and would call us when they couldn't make a gig. Good dudes. We'd hang out at their house in Hackettstown, NJ, and eventually relocated to that area. Anyplace that would put us up for awhile and could sustain our marathon practice/party sessions was our home. Usually short lived. We would always overstay our welcome. Discretion and moderation were not in our vocabulary. Here's a classic example. We opened up for Kinderhook at a club called Casper's in East Brunswick, NJ. During the course of the night I was shootin' the breeze with Andy, their bass player. They'd just opened up for Poco in Central Park and it seemed like they were on their way. Even the guys in Poco were impressed. So Andy was telling me about the gig and the guys in Poco and how they're just like us and how they got invited to the after party........WHAT!!!!!! I said, "Whoa....what was that like?" Andy said,"Well, we decided not to go. We thought they were probably just being polite and we didn't really want to overstay our welcome....." And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Freewheelin' would have beaten Poco to the party, been the first ones in line at the buffet table sticking rolls and cheese in our pockets, ordering nothing but the top shelf booze, and probably been politely asked to leave at some point during the night. We weren't bad guys or malicious.... extremely friendly as a matter of fact. But we were young, caught up in the scene and most of the time...not in reality. Some friends didn't make it. We did.

I was talking to a bar owner at a gig a few weeks ago and he was feeling me out about getting the boys together for a gig. Believe it or not, everyone's still around. But I think it's one of those things that's better left...remembered. There's a couple other old bandmates from different bands that have contacted me about some reunion gigs. Some.....most.....better left un-reunioned. Everyone's doing it. We need a Woodstock for all the old fart Jersey bands! In the meantime, get out and see Kinderhood, The Doughboys, The Good Rats, Sam The Band, Cowtown, Frankie and the Bern and your particular old favorite. I'll bet they're around....in spirit, anyway. Peace.

Summertime....and the livin' WAS easy

Where'd the summer go?! I mean......where'd the summer go?!?! I remember when I was a kid, summer vacation seemed like it went on forever. Then, at some point, you realize it's basically two months and change. Depressing. But remember that feeling waking up on the first, second, third day of summer vacation and realizing...ohhh yeahhhh.....it's summertime, baby. West Sixth St in Plainfield, NJ was a cool place to spend summers. Middle class....I guess....lots of kids....different age ranges. I was kind of in the middle so depending on the days action I could float among the different groups. Monopoly or Stratego with Stanley on his porch. That could kill a half day. His mom didn't trust me as far as she could throw me but as long as we were in sight it was cool. Bike adventures to the local parks or card flipping tournaments with Mary Ann. She cleaned me out more than once. Or Baseball with the older guys. Developed some pretty good skills early on by hangin' with those guys. One day the guys were playing St. Stan's baseball team from down the road. They were actually an organized team......with uniforms! Remember when The Bowery Boys, aka The East Side Kids would play a local organized team and hijinks would ensue? Yeah.... like that. In that kind of scenario I may or may not get the call. But that day I did. St. Stan's had a pitcher who threw nothin' but heat. He was wild and already had facial hair. I got the call to lead off and man did he look huge. I can't remember his name now but even that was frightening. I stepped in and their catcher said, "Good luck." Pretty sporting, I'd say. I tried to say "Thanks, you too" but my mouth was so dry all I could do was nod and attempt a weak smile and a little bit of spit. I wondered where that annoying clicking was coming from and realized it was my knees banging together. Ah....a time to test my mettle. I actually heard the first pitch whiz by. Strike one! Sounded like a ball to me. On the second pitch I started to swing before he actually let the ball go and danged if I didn't pop it just over second base. I stood proudly on first base as the next three guys struck out. I owned Lurch for the rest of the game. Got two more hits and then he drilled me in the ribs on my last at bat. Accident? I think not. Didn't matter. I laughed all the way to first. Y'know how the pros always downplay their performance and insist it doesn't matter unless the team wins. Never bought that. I don't even remember if we won or lost, but my status shot skyward. It's amazing what confidence can do. It bolstered my little league game, helped in brawls with my sister and even Sr Anne Eucharia didn't seem as intimidating.

And that was the day that my place in the neighborhood changed. I was no longer going back and forth between the older and younger group as much but now had a fairly secure place with the older guys. They were even coming to the door to get me for this or that. Hide and seek, tag etc just didn't seem to do it anymore. But I did notice it was getting more and more interesting to also hang with that other group. Did I mention the girls? I was on W. Sixth St. from Kindergarten to the middle of eighth grade. A lot can happen in that span. I noticed when I was around eleven, twelve, thirteen I was coming up with excuses to be around the girls. And I could be pretty creative. They made me feel ....funny.

I started playing guitar around age twelve and then things really got weird. Nancy lived across the street. She died a few years ago and that gave me pause for reflection. She was always a little more artsy than the rest of the crew and would like to hang out when I was practicing and critique, suggest, sing along and just be Garfunkle to my Simon. She had a great ear. My guitar teacher taught me House of the Rising Sun in E minor. Who does House of the Rising Sun in E minor!!?! Nancy knew it was wrong right off the bat. What could I do? I wouldn't find out about transposing keys for a few years.

And then I moved to Piscataway. Time to navigate among groups once again. Somehow I could always do that. Hang with the Jocks, The Dweebs, the Intelligencia, the...uh...not so intelligencia and the neighborhood guys. All the time keeping my grades right in the meaty part of a solid respectable C. Math always hurt my GPA. I got a D in Geometry, went to summer school and got a......D. C'mon...who can concentrate in the summer!? Especially when the girls in my class were wearing summertime clothes and smelling so good....and....and....

Somehow I've made it to fifty eight and never had to prove why a parallelogram is a parallelogram to anyone. And don't get me started on the Rhombus. I think the message here is don't be afraid to roam among groups. It can be kind of off putting to some people when groups collide but so what!!

Man, I wish I could come up with a really interesting wrap up here but Linda's grandkids have been on the other computer watching "Fred" at an extreme volume and I hate to admit it but....uh....I'm kind of starting to dig it so........how 'bout those Yanks?

Peace.

"Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale...."

I had the most inane, but fascinating discussion the other day. Given the chance, what super hero would you want to be? No, these discussions don't only happen at the Seinfeld coffee shop. It was two other guys and me and as it went on it actually got kind of heated. Guys take their super heroes very personally. But to me it's no contest. Superman can do it all. He just has to avoid Kryptonite in it's various forms. Not as easy as it sounds but worth the trade off. Another guy wanted to be Batman. What!?!? And get this. The other Mensa candidate wanted to be the Flash! They each had their arguments but why bother. Superman trumped them all. I was a DC comics fan and never did the Marvel thing so maybe I don't have all the facts, but they just have no game. Batman's clever, wily, strong, has a great car and hideaway..... and is rich. The flash is .......uh.....fast. Batman wouldn't stand a chance in the Octagon with Superman, and as far as speed....remember the one where Superman crossed the solar system in ten seconds and only lost time because he stopped to save a treed cat? Yes, he even has a super heart. And just use your imagination in regards to his X Ray vision. I could think of only one use for that when I was ten. Granted, I haven't read a Superman comic since around 1967 but unless things have radically changed, he's still my guy. And don't even try comparing the Bat Cave to the Fortress of Solitude.

In the course of blogging I've referenced the Man of Steel a few times. I've come to realize......once again...... it's a guy thing...... kinda like The Three Stooges. I'm sure you've gotten the old, "But why is he always hitting them?" Hey.....BECAUSE HE'S MOE!!!!!!! And forget trying to explain the letdown of a Shemp for a Curly.

I still have a picture of my father and me on the couch, sometime in the late fifties, early sixties staring at the TV. The caption reads "Interested in Superman." My brother got a camera around that time and by default became the historian of life on West Sixth Street. Captions and all. As a fan of Mad magazine he'd try to make them topical/irreverent/ cynical. There's another shot of my sister and me on her bed locked in combat. As usual, I'm on the bottom getting the worst of it as the caption reads "Typical."

My father's main complaint about Superman was he couldn't believe no one knew Clark Kent was Superman. Glasses and a suit? C'mon....I had to agree. But TV in the fifties and sixties demanded a suspension of belief. Why couldn't the professor just patch the hole on the Minnow? Why did the Howells bring a trunk full of clothes and packets of money? Why didn't Gilligan and Mary Ann ever.......or....did they? And remember the one where a camera and film washed up on the island? The castaways decide to make a movie recounting their shipwreck and hoped somebody would find it, put two and two together and come rescue them. Yeah....maybe. Or here's an idea. How about a movie where you stand there with a billboard that says "Help! We were shipwrecked on the Minnow a few years back. We think we're at (I'm sure the professor could come close to a longitude and latitude.) With us are the Thurston Howells (that's how they introduced well to do married couples in those days) and Ginger Grant, the movie star! Come rescue us!!!" Frustrating. But they had a half hour to fill.

The question is why do three guys in their fifties care about superheroes.... or Gilligan's Island...or The Three Stooges...Bewitched.....I dream of Jeannie. (Please.....just once can I see the belly button!!!!! ) Well, it impacted us. As did Combat.....The Rifleman...The New York Yankees and our neighbors, teachers and friends. That's what life is. A series of small meteors leaving their impacts. The St Mary's nuns left many an impact.

Life seems so much faster and more complicated for kids growing up today. They're preparing for college at nine years old. I meet and talk to parents every day and a lot of them are worn out by their kid's life schedule. Overload. But I guess everyone adapts. Most days, when I wasn't in school, my parents may or may not have known where I was till they saw me for lunch or dinner. Certain rules were laid down and I had to loosely roam within those parameters. They were too busy trying to make sure those meals were on the table and the mortgage was paid. Not that there weren't dangers out there. Plainfield, NJ was a volatile town in the sixties and the occasional black eye or bloody nose came with the territory. Is it better today? Worse? Kids standing next to each other texting rather than talking? It is what it is. A trite summation, but there you have it.

Be honest. Is this weird? I spend a lot of time on the road and get involved in these wild fantasies. I'm a Pisces and a dreamer. My teachers reminded me of that on more than one occasion. On a trip down the Garden State Parkway or The NJ Turnpike I can be captured by aliens or stranded on a desert island or asked to join a great blues band. The detail I go into is staggering....as I realize I'm fifteen miles past my intended exit. In my profile I wrote something like "I can't escape this feeling that something wonderful is going to happen." I still feel that every day. Really. Many wonderful things have already happened. I'm a very lucky guy. But I still think that.....hey....what's that bright light in my backyard? Uh oh...they're he-eeere.....?

Peace

OMG....so many people to thank.......where do I begin.....

"Overture....hit the lights.... This is it.....the night of nights." I refer you to the old Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck Fri night show. What kid growing up in the sixties doesn't remember that song?

Well, it's Oscar night. Doesn't affect my life....or probably yours....but I bet we'll watch for awhile. At least the opening. But man, there are people who live and die by this night! In an earlier blog (July 2005) I lamented on the lost art of hitch hiking and the dark turn it seems to have taken. Without rehashing old material, it backs into my brief brush with the Oscars. During Easter break in 1971 my buddy and I decided to hitch from El Paso, Texas to Los Angeles, California. We got there in one ride. He wanted to see an old girlfriend and I just wanted to see California. Our host dropped us off in Hollywood right on the Sunset Strip. It was about 10pm and the marquee across the street at the Whiskey A Go Go read "Tonight....Uriah Heep!! Remember them? The whole scene was reminiscent of Times Square...but with a freakier vibe. After all it was......OSCAR WEEK.......IN HOLLYWOOD!!!!!!!!

Gidget (seems like there were a lot of Gidgets and Sunshines running around in those days.) and some guy eventually came to pick us up and dropped us off at a mansion in Laurel canyon. As I remember, a friend of Gidget's struck it rich by inventing some new kind of cassette tape or something. A couple of friends were sharing the house, they were all leaving , we had the place to ourselves for the next few days and yes, it was OSCAR WEEK!!!!!! So there we were enjoying sunsets over LA from the expansive deck in the canyon and life wasn't bad. Butch was hanging out with Gidget a lot and I was walking down Laurel Canyon Drive and cruising the strip and other places by day. That sounds a little sleazy, doesn't it? Really, I was just takin' in the sights. The three of us spent one day on the beach with "sunshine" and the Pacific Ocean sparkled and laughed! But everything sparkled. It was OSCAR WEEK!!

A friend of ours from UTEP had a friend who also lived in the canyon and after a few days we moved in with him. He worked on the periphery of the movie industry as did a lot of his friends and life continued to be good. And it was OSC....well......ya know. Our host wasn't around much, Gidget and Butch had a falling out and we were running low on cash. What to do except get jobs as .....gardeners. The guy who owned the place we were staying in hired us to clean out his beds, do some trimming and planting and would pay us enough to fly back to school in Texas. Man, we kept steppin' in it! In the meantime, we had an interesting excursion with a Mexican taxi driver ( also covered in July '05 blog), spent a day frolicking in Griffith Park, and apparently had a number of near misses with California rock stars. There's a great book called "Hotel California" that covers this time in LA...particularly the Laurel Canyon area which was home to the likes of Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, The Mamas and the Papas, Jackson Browne, Crosby, Stills and Nash etc. In my trips down to "the strip" I was always picked up by interesting characters in fast cars. I wonder who they were....hmmmmmm.

But Easter break was over and it was time to get back to school. We were slated to fly out of LAX on OSCAR NIGHT!! One of the gang offered to drive us to the airport and man was he pumped! He was actually going to the Oscar ceremony that night and still took the time to drive us. We met a lot of nice people in LA. Even though the Oscars affected us not a whit it was hard not to get caught up in, or at least witness, the electricity in the California air that night. We almost hated to leave. But you know that feeling in your gut that says "time to leave?" Well, it was there. We were on the brink of overstaying our welcome but got out just in time. From the air Hollywood appeared to be vibrating.

Bill (the friend of the friend) picked us up at the El Paso airport and as we walked through the lobby of our dorm what was blasting off the TV but.........a Dodger game. Hey..... C'mon man ......it's OSCAR NIGHT!! Enjoy the show. Peace.

( Scroll down for updated info on Carrie)

Star Trek...Bruce Lee.....Wisdom

So I got a new guitar last week. It's a Breedlove acoustic/electric and it's like a little slice of heaven. I started doing some solo gigs again and I had to make the move. For a good acoustic guitar these days you have to be looking in the $1,000 range. I was going for a Taylor and had just about decided on one when Mr. Breedlove crossed my path. A done deal.

As I was paying for my guitar at the Guitar Center counter I flashed back to a Saturday afternoon at Gregory's music store in Plainfield, NJ. I was twelve, the year was 1964 and my mother decided she'd spring for my first guitar. Eighteen dollars....with case. The strings were so far off the neck you could....well...they were really far off the neck. I loved that guitar. Developed some real healthy callouses with that baby. About a year later I got my mom to go for my first electric guitar...with case and amp. It was a $50 Crown guitar and a $30 Kay amp and life has never been the same. But the thing with guitars, amps and any musical equipment is.... you always need something else. My problem is I can never 100% focus on one thing. Bass took up a good chunk of time but there was always guitar, dobro, banjo, pedal steel, girls, drums, harp. Jack of all....master of none. Would I do it differently if I could? Probably not. But for now the focus is on the acoustic guitar and learning and refining things I should have learned and refined a long time ago. I was never one for practice. I could and can always play for an hour or two at a shot just for fun which I guess translates into practice. But the serious guys I've met over the years do about six hours a day. Can't do it. The solo venture I've re embarked on has a different slant this time. No backing tracks...just me and a guitar. Very liberating, frightening and a lot more enjoyable. We'll see. Still playing bass in a couple acts and got to play drums last week in a local bar. HOOT!!!! But still looking for that one real solid, steady bass gig. I'm starting to believe it ain't gonna happen. I don't mean Madison Square Garden. Just a 3 or 4 times a month money making, music making, thumping band. I've had it a few times in this life and it spoils you.

But man, I can't complain. Life is good on the river. I wonder where'd I'd be if I'd stayed on the corporate track. A lot more in the 401K but, I'll bet, even more gray hair, an ulcer and a lot of what ifs.

I am one lucky son of a gun. I've really managed to live life, for the most part, on my own terms. If I live too long things could get dicey. But if I take a final bow about when I should, things should be just fine. I had a friend who got through life without ever having a real steady job, lived with his parents till well into his fifties, got some inheritance when they passed away and then died a few years later. I'd always tell him, "Just wait....you're gonna have a tough road in the end. What're ya crazy....no 401K? You'll see!! Well he had the last laugh. Not my choice, but that's what makes a horse race.

As Bruce Lee once said, "The choice is yours, my friend." (He also said, "Be like water." Always liked that one.) I have arguments with some of my liberal friends about this. I've always been a bleeding heart liberal but as time goes on I'm bleeding less and less. Anybody can do anything....if they so choose.....and are willing to work for it. I'm convinced of it, I've seen it, it's my credo. Is it harder for some than others? Is life sometimes unfair? Is the playing field slanted? Do you hate people who ask questions only to answer them in the next sentence? Yes. Yes. Yes. And yes. The question always comes back to me, "Then why aren't you on the Forbes 500, loudmouth?" Never desired it. Period. Believe it or not.

I have an earlier blog in here somewhere about roads taken and not taken so I'll leave that alone. But I like the alternate universe theory that says we live out every possibility somewhere...sometime. Ah...time lines. The things of which Star Treks are made? And the wonderful thing is....no one can say...... with absolute certainty......it ain't so. So, I guess somewhere, sometime, I am.....was..... will be.....center fielder for the NY Yankees. And I do look good in pinstripes.

Peace.

(Scroll down for updated info on Carrie)

Help!!!!!

Linda's daughter, Carrie, is in a hospital in South Jersey. She had complications after delivering a baby girl two weeks ago. She's extremely critical. A large cloud is hanging over life. Please pray for her. Thanks

( Pictured:Carrie, her brother Michael and Linda)

(1 month later, July 19th)

She made it! A long road ahead. Thanks for your support and prayers. It's meant everything!

(Oct 4th, 2009)

Carrie's still in the hospital because of insurance red tape. Probably going home next week with a with a visiting daily nurse. Waiting for the call for a small intestines transplant at The University Of Pittsburgh. Hurdles still ahead.

(Oct 31, 2009)

Carrie's been home and back in the hospital three times. Currently back in Cooper Hospital in Camden. The longest she's been able to stay home without problems developing is about four days. Currently gall bladder problems resulting from her TPN. Waiting for the word from Pittsburgh to go for the evaluation and then transplant. Thanks for your prayers and inquiries.

(Nov, 24, 2009)

Linda and Carrie have been in Pittsburgh for a week and a half now. The insurance issues between NJ, Pittsburgh and Ohio (where Carrie will be staying with her brother, post evaluation) have been a nightmare.Thank God Linda's been on the case correcting everyone's mistakes and making sure things get done. Some of the problems are severe...... like NJ insurance and Pittsburgh insurance unable to decide who will supply her TPN, the intraveneous nutrition that she has to have ten to twelve or more hours a day. She's had to miss a couple of days here and there because of it. Not good! Just one instance, of many, of beauracracy gone wild! She's had some tests and is getting ready for a two week evaluation process . She was in patient till today and is now out patient for the evaluation. Then.....provided the evaluation goes in her favor.....we wait for an available small intestine. As of today Carrie and Linda are living together in housing near the hospital for families of patients. Here's to peace in Pittsburgh!

Dec 30th, 2009

Carrie and Linda are back from their third trip to Pittsburgh. Miles....and miles...... The evaluation is over and now Carrie is, or shortly will be, on the list for a small intestine. The co ordinator seems to think it won't be long.

Jan 19, 2010

Carrie and Linda left for Pittsburgh today at 4:30 am. Carrie has to have some tests that she probably should have had while she was out there during previous visits. She was due to be put on the transplant list anytime and just got the word a few hours ago that she's been listed. Now we wait for the call for an available small intestine. That'll be a good day for us and, unfortunately, a sad day for someone else. Whomever you may be......thank you. So Carrie's there for the duration. She'll be staying in Ohio with her brother, Michael, and his fiancee. They're about an hour away from the hospital and that's a good thing. Once the call comes in she's got to be at the hospital asap. Linda's been a trooper. A great mom and a wonderful partner. We're all lucky to have her in our lives. Seven months ago I promised Carrie this would all be over by Feb 19th. I don't know why I blurted out that date but I just realized that was my grandmother's birthday. Hmmmmm......

Feb 1, 2010

Had the first false alarm last Saturday. In the morning we got a call that a small intestine would be available sometime that day. I had a gig that nite and as I was packing up...around 1 am, I got a call from Linda that Carrie was on her way to the hospital and things were moving. Linda lef, drove all night and hung out at the hospital all day Sunday. The surgery was set for 4 pm. Around 3 pm the doctors decided the match wasn't close enough. The intestine was from a fifteen year old boy. Quite a reality check. His liver would also be donated.

March 13, 2010

This past Tue night the call came in. Linda took off for Pittsburgh around 10 pm. The surgery started around 11 pm and continued till around 11 am. Carrie has a new small intestine, said goodby to a gall bladder and appendix and is doing great this morning. God bless the donor (a nineteen year old Alabama boy) and family. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. A long recovery to come. But this is one feisty chick! Thanks for all your inquiries, prayers and support. Peace.

March 27, 2010

Carrie celebrated her 28th birthday on Mar 17th. She also had another surgery that day to remove a hematoma. She had a second surgery the next day to stop some bleeding. Since then she's responded extremely well to the new intestine and the future looks good.

It's ALL small stuff

Around 1990 I was working at a Tae Kwon Do school in NJ. I'd just left the ulcer inducing fast track of the corporate world and my teacher offered me a gig. I'd warm up classes, teach a few, sell memberships, sweep the floor and do whatever it took to help Master Kwak keep two schools running. Master Kwak exemplified what I though a martial artist should represent. He was calm, reflective.........meditative breathing exercises were part of every class........and extremely skilled in his art. He would only demonstrate his skills during student tests but some of his techniques and breaks were amazing. He had a dry sense of humor, appreciated mine and was a good friend during the time I trained and worked with him. I broke my hand on my black belt test and I remember when I walked into his school with a cast on my arm he looked like he was gonna cry....then laugh...then cry.......ah.........the ultimate yin and yang.

A few weeks later I was preparing to move out of the area and leave the school. I was nervous but excited and Master Kwak and I had a sitdown. He was always good for some words of wisdom. For some reason life keeps reminding me of this conversation. My mom has just died after a long illness. We'd sold her home and I was leaving with no prospects except my band gig...which was doing pretty well at the time. Master Kwak sensed my apprehension and showed me something he'd drawn on a piece of paper he had in front of him. I'd seen it around his office but never thought to ask what it was. It was the Korean character for crisis. He told me the word is made up of two characters....one meaning danger....and the other meaning opportunity. Ahhhhhh.....grasshopper. I can't escape it because that reference never fails to appear at the exact moment of crisis/danger/opportunity etc. Harrowing, or at least, uncertain times, upon reflection, usually turn out to be worth the trip. I've had a few life challenges, just like you, and at this point I can honestly say I wouldn't change a thing. If everything didn't happen as it did I wouldn't be here.....now. And this is right where I want to be. There's still things to do......hopes....dreams.......become a better brother, uncle, friend....partner. And that's what keeps life exciting. The old what the hell is gonna happen tomorrow thing!?!?

I dig getting older. Is that weird? I see things so much more clearly than when I was twenty or thirty. One of the biggest lessons is don't sweat the small stuff, because ultimately it's all small stuff. I can't take credit for that but it's my mantra. Another bit of wisdom I try to live by is the Serenity Prayer. I'm certainly not a religious guy in the traditional sense and not much for traditional prayer but I carry a lot of spirituality around and this one hits home. Google it. How did I become acquainted with it?

The nuns in my grammar school would hit the parents up for the occasional ride to Convent Station, NJ. This was kind of like the mother ship for the Sisters of Charity. My mom got the call one day and I was recruited for the drive along. Turns out....it was my teacher!!!!! I guess I've been more uncomfortable but I can't remember when. As a thank you she gave my mother a small plaque which had the Serenity Prayer on it. My mom seemed very moved and told her that the prayer had always been one of her favorites. I thought she was just shinin' her but apparently she meant it. That prayer hung around the house for the next thirty years. I guess the vibe has passed on because like the sage words of Master Kwak, the Serenity Prayer always seems to pop up right when it's needed. I finally caved and put my own computer generated prayer together, framed it and it's in my music studio helping me to find the divine inspiration needed to write a top ten hit. That and Carole King's Tapestry album. Basically it tells you to be aware and ready when life comes at you. Recognize a good opportunity, etc. Good advice anytime. Clever one liners make life so simple, don't they? If we all lived by the bits of wisdom delivered by the Asian cartoon character in the NY Daily News.....usually right next to the racing results.....life would be beautiful. Every day he's got a gem. It's usually something about open your mouth less and your ears more. I'm stunned that the climate of political correctness in this country has allowed him to continue.

I really hate political correctness. It's just so righteously phony. I remember when Howard Stern was being interviewed by Tom Snyder and lambasted for all his politically incorrect, insensitive and usually right on the money comments. Howard's point was that everybody says or at least, thinks, this stuff. Tom said, "Yeah, but not when the mics are on." Hmmmmmm. I paraphrase..... but you get the point. Knock it off!!!!!! We can take it!!!!!!! Family Guy's my new favorite show. It doesn't apologize for anything and I love that. We're all the family guy to a point..We just don't have the nerve to admit it. Me included. I also love you tube and I'm on facebook. DON'T ask me to Twitter.

Well, a great thunderstorm/hailstorm just started so I have to get outside. First one of the season. And my electricity's bound to go out as it always does so I'd better save........

PS Gig this wknd Fri, Apr 3rd at Tiff's, Rt 31, Clinton NJ with The "High Bridge All Stars." Showtime around 9.

I can't believe I'm still here. So....what's next?!?

I moved a mile and a half downriver last month...and have a new roommate. Y'know, you get to a certain age and stop questioning things as much as you used to. Ten...twenty years ago moving in with a girlfriend would have been a huge emotional crisis deserving of months of thought... what ifs...etc. Linda said she could make a comfortable home for us. No pressure. I took her word for it and danged if she hasn't made a wonderful home for us. I like to think I helped, but when it comes to window treatments and rugs.....and home stuff...... I'm like a new born pup blindly struggling in the dark. She MADE curtains. Well, not curtains.... but those things that hang at the top of windows. All I know is I heard a sewing machine and....BANG....things on windows. I came home one night and there's a long rug in the hallway. And it looks just like the rug in the living room! What ? How? (Did you know that the hall rug is called a runner? Go figure)

I have all my recording stuff set up. ITunes has said I can send them my music and....life goes on. Gotta find a band. This is the longest I've gone without a steady gig and it's a little scary. I've been doing some pick up gigs here and there but I need that steady thing. Looking at a calendar and seeing Fris and Sats blocked out is a reassuring feeling. Particularly the way the economy is. I've always used music as a second source of income and there's no time like the present. I can't remember when I wasn't in a band. How do people not be in a band? What do they do?

I went to see some old pals the other night. The Doughboys. Great sixties style band. The drummer was on my little league team, the bass player was my paper boy...you get the idea. They're from my old hometown of Plainfield, NJ. They're a couple of years older so we never hung out back in the day but they were neighborhood guys who got a jump on the band thing around 1965 or so ......played for a number of years ....reformed a couple of years ago and there you have it. Same song list. Same lineup. Very Yardbirds. (See Yardbirds pic. Can you name them....hmmmm?) Their guitar player, Willie, had some problems and died two years ago......great guitarist. Another guy slipped in and.... gig on, boys. This place I saw them the other night used to be called The Hullabaloo in the 60's. NJ had a chain of Hullabaloos. One of the guys from The Doughboy's had a poster of them playing there...on the same stage...in 1967. I used to go there all the time to see some great local bands. At the time the best I could do was high school dances, parties, etc.

I played full time for a number of years and the thing I remember most is how proud I felt when people asked and I would tell them I was a musician. It always got a reaction. And you could see that look in their eyes as they hearkened back to their high school band, or the marching band, or even piano lessons from the lady down the street. That look of....what if.......? But don't worry.......the grass is always greener. You're right where you're supposed to be. I believe that.

Right now I'm pretty sure I'm right where I'm supposed to be. Living on the Musconetcong River in Finesville, Warren County, NJ, with a beautiful woman who, for some odd reason, seems to really like me........ watching the geese and the birds, and the occasional fox....searching for that ever elusive perfect band.......writing music.....hustling people around by day....entertaining...or not....people on the radio one morning a week........thanking God for putting me right here, right now....celebrating my health...trying to treat the world and the people in it as well as I can...... and being extremely optimistic about the future. Why?......... WHY NOT?? Peace.

PS Gigging at Mrs Riley's in High Bridge, NJ the Sat before St Patty's day with some old pals. C'mon out. I'll buy you a green beer.

"Wasn't....isn't....this a time....?

Just in case you've been on an archaeological dig deep in a cave in South America for the last year.........we've just had one mama jamma of an election!!! This was fun!!!!! I'm not a "political junkie" but keep just well enough informed via the Daily News, the NJ Star Ledger, the internet, talk radio and the nightly news to realize that no one really "knows". And there's a lot of agenda driven opinion out there. I think the checks and balances of our system, within the houses of government, for the most part, work. The old,"Say, what's that guy up to?" The gentlemen from the Continental Congress would be proud, and grateful, I'll bet, that their plan has held up. But I think keeping the other guy honest has taken a nasty turn into trying to stop the other guy in his tracks....even sabatoging him. No one will admit it but I'm here to tell you....the emperorer has no clothes!!!!!! Both sides do it.

Look, I've been a bleeding heart liberal most of my natural life but I'd have to be blind and deaf not to see that the media in this country is indeed....uh oh......LIBERAL!!!! Most talk radio is conservative. Most tv and print is liberal. Like it or not, that's the way it is, man. And knock it off with this fairness doctrine stuff. Guess what? Ratings rule. So waaaaaaaa!!!!! Cry me a river. My own bleeding heart has moved more and more to the middle as I've grown older and...wiser? Wiser meaning being able to see that everyone in politics is a con artist. A lot of these folks have good hearts and intentions ....ON BOTH SIDES..........but con artists nonetheless.

I remember when I was about twenty one and playing a gig in my hometown. One of the local politicos was there shaking hands and kissing babies. I kinda knew this guy and we were chatting about some of his plans...... which had drastically changed. I asked why and he gave me my first lesson in politics 101. He said he had to first pay back favors (not his word) to the people/groups that helped get him elected. Then he could get to his agenda, which, he assured me, he would. That was an eye opener. Favors, paybacks and the putting of one's own plan on the back burner can only intensify with the size and importance of the office. Which is why, I think, you.......I....had to look at the personality......and why my liberal finger, under direction from my liberal heart, pushed the button for John McCain. I asked myself one question. Who would I want standing next to me in a barfight? And there you have it. McCain's whole pow experience and his refusing to leave when given the chance spoke to me. I went Democratic the rest of the ticket but the prez was a righty. I mentioned this on my weekly radio show and heard from a bunch of irritated liberals. I had to say don't worry....be happy....you won. I'm cool....please join me. Because I thought all along that no matter the outcome it's a win/win situation. We have either the first African American president or the first woman Vice president. Either way, life goes on and my life, or yours, isn't gonna change a whole lot. It's akin to my feelings when the Yanks lose the World Series. Ahhhh dangit.....and......back to work........ 'cuz here comes the rent again.

My conscience dictated McCain, but this is.......ok. What say we get behind Barack. Keep a watchful eye, but could we stop the sniping, gotcha crap......the living in the past and depressing projections? Well if Bush didn't...well if Clinton didn't....if George the first didn't ....if Reagan....if Carter ......if.....STOP!!!!!!!! The guy hasn't even taken the oath yet. Like the bumper sticker says, "Either push, pull or get the hell out of the way." But c'mon...let's not throw tacks in front of his tires. Obama's failure means success for the right...just as Bush's failures mean success for the left. We've got to temper this crap.

Which brings me to this. When did my people, the left, lose their sense of humor and become the crotchety old men of the sixties? I was raised on Mad magazine, National Lampoon, Monty Python, Saturday Night Live and still have the occasional flashback to prove it. Ahhh....when the sunshine was orange. We've become Big Brother. The Democratic conventioneers seemed a little miffed and put out while the Republicans seemed.....dare I say it......fun......a party. And they were losing! I still love political incorrectness...with NO apology. The Family Guy is my new hero. What happened? Who threw the switch? Look, man, we're all in this together and as the late, great Jim Morrison once said, "No one here gets out alive." And wouldn't it be cool to see, just once, if we did all pull together, what we could do? That doesn't mean cave in or surrender your positions.... but argue from a position of tolerance and betterment....... for everyone. Can I get a Kumbaya? And Move On. org....you can stop your e mails now. They were getting a little creepy.

I was driving around on election day and covered a lot of ground. I voted for McCain early. But the turnout I saw doesn't jive with what I'm hearing on talk radio. Would it kill you to admit that a helluva lot of people turned out? Maybe it was only in my neck of the woods here in NY, NJ and Pa....but it was wild! There was definitely a feeling in the air. To quote Stephen Stills, "There's something happening here. What it is, ain't exactly clear."

So I'll deliver the same mantra now that I did eight years ago when my guy didn't win then, either. Watch, be wary, be skeptical, challenge, but when Barack falls down, which he occasionally will, how 'bout rather than putting a foot on his back we put our hand out and help him up. He's ours for four years. The dems have it all. Let's see what we can do.

Election day, and the events of the following days made me proud to be here and be involved enough to at least have have contributed what I felt was a considered vote. I was proud to be an American. Not necessarily proud of a lot of things America has done, but proud to be..... an American.....with a drippingly sarcastic apology to my college professors. ( I once wrote a paper supporting the Vietnam war for my conservative professor and one decrying the war for my Liberal professor. I got A's on both! And, if you hadn't noticed, I ain't no Hemingway. Am I a cynical sob, or what?!?!) This is an amazing thing we have....this peaceful transfer of power every four years. Seeing all the faces on the front pages and across tv screens.... the faces of people covered in tears.....people that may have been the target of dogs, hoses, clubs or worse, a mere forty years ago was....well.... moving. I don't know how anyone couldn't have been moved.

So buck up, John. You're a classy guy who ran a really atrocious campaign. I'll still pick you to be at my back when glasses start being thrown. Is the playing field now..... even? Probably not. But I think the slope is slowly decreasing. Peace.

These ARE the "good old days"

Ah .....for the good old days. Were the old days actually that good? I think we tend to view days gone by with a litle help from our rose colored glasses. Remember the Twilight Zone where the modern day scientist (circa early 60's) gets fed up with all the noise pollution, crowding and general rudeness of the day and somehow, through the magic of the "zone", manages to return to the late 1800's? In an interesting convention the scene switches to silent..... with subtitles....... and, lo and behold, Buster Keaton pops onto the scene as the inept assistant. Our modern man at first loves the serenity of the past but then discovers he can't find any of the equipment he needs and..... yadda yadda...... he returns to the present, bringing Buster with him. Ya just have to buy into it. Buster hates it. He goes home. Everybody's happy. So what's the moral? I don't know. The grass isn't always greener? Be happy in your present circumstances wherever and whatever they may be? OK....I'll take that one.

In the early eighties a band I was playing with got a two month gig in Bermuda. Round trip flight, house, one meal a day, mopeds and a pretty good paycheck all included. Our only responsibility was to be on stage at 9:30 tuesday through Sunday. After about two weeks I'd done all the tourist stuff and covered the island front to back and side to side. From there things just sort of eased into.....life. I thought, man, if that can happen in Bermuda, I guess it can happen anywhere. Contentment really does come from within. Blue water and pink beaches help......and we had a rollickin' time, made some good friends, got really tight as a band and wouldn't trade the experience for anything, but it was still just.....life. I'd actually discovered this earlier, but forgot it. When I went to El Paso for college in 1970, leaving all my griping NJ buddies and flying off into the sunset.....ALONE...... I was stunned to find that all the Texas guys were sick of Texas and aching to head back east........TO JERSEY!!! The big question I got was how could I not have gone to Woodstock. Well, if I would've known it was gonna be a movie......

It's fall here in New Jersey. A beautiful time of year. Sunday morning. I was just sitting on the banks of the Musconetcong River, (which is right in my back yard......how cool is that?!?!) ......meditating, thinking, planning, dreaming....praying. Every day when I get up and rolling, I've gotten into the habit of thanking the powers that be.....God?.....for putting me here...now.... and keeping me and my family and friends healthy. I always ask for support and guidance and the ability to recognize opportunity....a big part of luck. Over the years I feel as if there's been someone keeping an eye on me. I think back to what I wanted ten...twenty years ago and I basically have it. And what I don't have is my own fault. But I'm a big believer in the best is yet to come....create your opportunities (luck) and stay positive. Don't be afraid to say things out loud. The spoken word is powerful. But don't be surprised if someone drapes a net over your head, either.

I believe.....recognize......that we're just here to learn, give and receive love, find and utilize our talents, while trying not to walk into too many doors along the way. If during that time, you've managed to fall in love a few times, make some people laugh, roll in the grass with a dog or two, climb a great tree, sing with a bunch of friends, laugh till you cry....cry till you laugh, sled down an icy winter hill, catch a perfect wave, make a diving catch on a grass infield on a beautiful summer day, skinny dip, help someone who really needs it and enjoy a variety of sunrises and sunsets from different parts of the planet.............well, my friend, I think that's really all anyone can ask. And if you've missed any of the aforementioned.....there's always next time.

"A crazy little thing called love"

So the elderly couple is heading up to their honeymoon suite after a very succesful wedding day. Myron says,"You know, Ada I love you very much, but there are a few things we haven't discussed."

"Why, what's that, my husband?," Ada replied.

"Well, for one thing, I have to have dinner every day at five o' clock."

"Done!" says his dutiful wife."

And, he continued, I must have a poached egg every morning for breakfast, with coffee and orange juice........ and no later than eight am."

"And what kind of bride would I be if I couldn't do a simple thing like that for the man I love?," she coyly answered.

"And now my dear, surely you have some concerns as we enter this union.," says Myron.

"Well, Ada begins, I'm a little curious about your thoughts on........... sex."

"Ah, my love, Myron answers........infrequently ."

In a small voice Ada asks, "Is that one or two words?"

"Stop the world I.....well, could you at least slow it down a little?"

Is it just me or is the world, with apologies to Al Gore, getting colder. I mean philosophically. Everything is about a buck. I'm on the road all day and listening to the radio is a constant challenge to avoid commercials. I understand about selling air time and the pay to play medium but.......C'MON!!!!!!!! Yer killin' me, man!!!!!!! I have two FM and two AM bands programmed and I can go through every button and still not hear any content. I mean....the commercials with the rapid fire disclaimers at the end..... And anything that may result in bloody discharge.....I ain't takin'! Y'know I'm starting to believe that commie plot thing from the sixties. Introducing weed and inane tv shows resulting in the dumbing down and apathy that's become.....us. The old get 'em from the inside. Well, it worked. Listen to the man on the street interviews. Half the people asked don't know who the president is. I used to sit back and laugh at this stuff. And, for the most part, still do........ being the cynical, Saturday Night Live, National Lampoon, Monty Python, Mad Magazine ex-hippie that I am. But, and maybe it's the getting older thing, the laugh has a nervous twitch to it.....like when you laugh at a horror movie trying to pretend you're not scared. (C'mon, I knew Tony Perkins was his own mother......right?) I love Family Guy, The Simpsons and some of the reality stuff but if I was a parent I'd be worried.

And what's happened to baseball? I barely watched any of the World Series last year, 'cause it was on too late. Why? Advertisers. Hardly any day games, no double headers, cost prohibitive to go to games, can't watch batting practice anymore, players won't give you the time of day, $7 hot dogs and $5.50 beers, thrown out as soon as the last out is made............can you throw a brother a bone....please?!?! You hear this brought up on the sports talk shows and all the hosts say is, "Well, that's the way it is now. It's a different time." Yeah....I guess. But I'll bet it's comfortable in the press boxes around America. In the parks around here the baseball fields are empty. When I think of some of the scroungy fields my buddies and I used to play on and then see these beautiful, manicured fields going to waste.....well...."the babe"would shed a tear. I think major league baseball's shooting itself in the foot. Maybe not the next generation or even the one after that, but sooner or later the well of fandom may dry up. But it's all about making it now.

I like money. A lot. But how much is enough? At what point do we think of the greater good? Baseball's a metaphor for everything. It's good like that. But it can get kind of depressing. And I'm an extremely optimistic guy. Even at the ripe old age of fifty six I'm still convinced I'm gonna be living in the house on the hill and playing in the band of my dreams. There's a difference between recognizing the reality that's out there and putting a little rose color on your own reality. I still steadfastly believe in the innate goodness of people. We are...have to be....our brother's keeper. It's just that the world is starting to look like the stark future of the movies. Remember the panic you felt along with Jimmy Stewart in "It's a Wonderful Life" when he realizes no one knows him and his small town has gone to hell in a hand basket? Or Marty Mcfly in "Back to the Future" when he saw what his town had become. But it was only because they weren't there to pitch in. And that, my friends, is what it's all about. Bring some peace and kindness to your small fragment of the universe. Let the other guy into your lane now and then. Pick up a piece of garbage. Be kind to your wife/husband, friends, girl/boy friends, kids, animals, nature. Open your ears more and your mouth less! And when you're alone in your car....sing at the top of your lungs!!!!!!!!!! Try to see the big picture. We're only here for a cup of coffee.

Do I take my own advice? Man, I try. Really. And the older I get the more I do...... still not nearly enough. But now, I think, I recognize it. And that's a start. Now here's twenty bucks. Get me a beer and a hot dog and let's PLAY BALL!!!! Peace

"Look, up in the sky, it's a ....Byrd?"

“This is Allison Steele, the Nightbird….come fly with me.” And fly I did. Those opening words from the late, WNEW, NY dj sent me off to sleep on a thousand nights in the late 60’s and early 70’s. She’d start with a poem, delivered in a low, whispered voice. The words poured out of my radio and I swear I could smell her perfume. Then wonderful music would follow. Songs that would end, well, when they were over. I’d become so used to the AM version of “Light my fire” that I was stunned to hear Ray Manzarek’s extended keyboard break come out of my radio’s three inch speaker. So, that’s how it was supposed to sound. Thanks, Allison.
Radio has been there for everything, hasn’t it? It was the soundtrack for your first kiss, trips to the beach, cars, bars, guitars and…… heartache. Remember the first time you heard “Walk away Renee” after someone broke your heart? Ouch!
In earlier years I’d overhear the voice of Jean Shepherd drifting out of my parent’s bedroom as he’d weave intricate tales of picnics, family outings, the Fourth of July, Aunt Edna or his third grade teacher. I’d laugh along even though I was a hallway and five stairs away. The next morning John Gambling and “Pack up your troubles” would waft in from the kitchen signaling the start of another nightmarish day with the Sister’s of (No) Mercy. That song still makes me cringe. The two mile ride to St Mary’s made Fred Feldman’s traffic reports moot, but it was still nice to know he and the WOR helicopter were up there.
When I finally got my own radio, I jumped ship to WABC, just like you did. Cousin Brucie, Dan Ingram, Harry Harrison and Scott Muni were never far away. Neither were The Beach Boys, The Ronettes, The Temptations and, finally, all those weird looking groups from across the pond. I could never explain to my grandmother’s satisfaction exactly what a “Byrd”, let alone a “Yardbird”, was. But it didn’t really matter. The times indeed were “a changin’, and, along with some of our favorite dj’s, my friends and I left the familiar, rapid fire patter of the AM band and moved over to FM. Goodbye Cousin. Hello Nightbird.
For the last decade and a half, Thursday mornings have been very special to me. The familiar smells of old records, tapes and turntables that hit me in the face as I open up the “HonkyTonk Roadhouse” have become like old friends. And I hardly ever trip on that third step leading up to the on air studio anymore. A lot of people have come through. Some stayed. WDVR is FM the way FM used to be. It’s
the kind of radio that Allison Steele and Scott Muni would be proud of; a forgotten taste of freedom; for all of us. Slick?. Nah. Fast paced? Hardly. It is, I hope, a small comfort zone in your car, office, garage, kitchen or bathroom; a feeling. It’s the feeling you get when you spot your old baseball glove on the shelf in the garage each spring. And instead of walking by, you try it on for a few smacks? Y’know what I mean? Well, if you don’t, I‘m afraid I could never explain it. But if you do……. I’ll never have to. Thanks for stopping by. Peace.

(The"Honky Tonk Roadhouse" can be heard Thurs morns, 6am - 9 on WDVR fm, 89.7 and 91.9 FM, Nj and PA. Streams online at at www.wdvrfm.org)

You may say I'm a dreamer.....and you'd be right.

There's something about snow and Christmas. At least here in the northeast. How many Christmas tv shows end with "Hey...look!!!! It's starting to snow!!!" I'm at least as cynical as the rest of you but danged if I don't feel just a little choked up during "It's a wonderful life." C'mon man....the angel got his wings!!!! And when Scrooge sends that kid down the road to buy the goose? Well....let's just say my feminine side comes out.

I remember one Christmas Eve in Piscataway, NJ. It was probably around 1970 - 71 and I'd spent the evening with a few of the fellas at one of their parent's house down the road. Just doing what twenty year old guys do. Around midnight or so I took off and walked the mile and a half home through a fresh snowfall. The climb up Rivercrest Drive had a magical air. A night to remember. The snow made everything so quiet. Just me crunching my way home. Clear, clear sky. And stars. I stopped at the baseball park about halfway and pulled up a seat in the dugout. Again. (Did some of my best thinking in that dugout.) It was one of those moments you don't want to end. Moments that usually come when I'm alone. Or does it just seem that way. Floods of memories. Christmas will do that. Another Christmas Eve/Christmas morning an old flame and I were sitting downstairs in my parents house....probably watching "It's A Wonderful Life"... when a pal knocked on the window and he and his soon to be wife dropped in with a bottle of Amaretto. We did a few warming shots, laughed, wished a merry and said adios. Another moment....memory. Going out with my mom for a last minute Christmas tree and cringing as she worked the guy down from a dollar to fifty cents. ("Hey, what's he gonna do with it tomorrow?") Touche, mi a mama!!!

But that's what life ultimately is, isn't it? Just a bunch of little snapshots strung together. The big ones are great....graduations....weddings....vacations. But it's the in - between stuff that really ties it together. They say...and I'm badly paraphrasing.....that while you're planning for the future, or remembering the past, life happens. You could drive yourself crazy trying to decipher the coincidental lines of life. Remember the old poster of the Acid Cat? If you don't, I could never explain it, and if you do....no explanation necessary. Dayglow at its best. Roads. I was on my way to band practice one night in 1974 and stopped into Somerset Farms for a battery. Ran into an old friend who was also in a band......we reconnected.....combined the two bands and had a pretty good run for about five years. I could give you eighty five examples of serendipitous moments.....as you could give me....but it's still a hoot!!!!

And then there's the snapshots that don't lead to anything earth shattering, but that you just know are special and don't want to end. .....like the aforementioned Christmas Eve snow walk.

Linda and I spent a wonderful day in Central Park this summer. I've never had any special affinity for the park .....having been through it, but never stopping, oh about eight hundred times. But as belated birthday wishes must be honored, in we went. And dangbangit if I didn't have one of the best days of my life. It was a spectacular summer day and NY and Central Park were at their most entertaining. Bands, solo musicians, food carts, mimes....and who doesn't love a mime?.....Oh yeah....everybody hates a mime. Spent some time in Strawberry Fields. A few somber moments across the street at The Dakota. Dinner in Greenwich village. It was ALL good. We were sitting on one of the park benches in Strawberry Fields (really nice job, Yoko) and I remember reminding myself that this was one of those special moments. I didn't want it to end. And if some street folks didn't start brawling amongst themselves we probably would have stayed a while longer. Hey!!!! Give peace a chance, wouldja?

Think about your current job, wife/girlfriend, living situation, car, friends. How'd they come into your life. It's kind of cool unraveling these things we rarely think about. Like the great philosopher Ed Norton once said, "See Ralph...the SMALL details." (I refer you to The Honeymooners where Ralph inherits his "Fortune". Mayhem ensues......... homina...homina....homina.)

I think I use the phrase, "as I get older" a lot these days. But, as I get older, I see these moments more clearly...recognize them. Maybe not as they're happening....but soon. I look around the room. How the heck did I wind up here? Oh yeah...this...and that....and that other thing. What if Paul didn't get on the bus that summer day in Liverpool and run into John? Well, our day in Central Park may have been a little less special. Or would we have even been there? Submitted, for your approval. (Cue Twilight Zone music) We must appreciate what and who we have. A lot of people don't....have. And, as for you..... have a wonderful Christmas and peaceful New Year.

When you come to the fork in the road.....take it.

I had a sad, perplexing, happy, reflective week a few weeks back. Get this. My friend, and bandmate, died. 55. My aunt died. 96. My new nephew was born. 0. And I spent a little time in Central Park's Strawberry Fields. (Nice job, Yoko.) One week!!! Dang!!!

Y'know I always thought I'd opt for the no funeral/ cremation thing. But there's something comforting....final....about a funeral. Especially the way we Catholics do it. Fallen or otherwise. It's not really for the guy in the box, is it? When you get in your car after the post funeral/cemetary/lunch /celebration to drive home, at some point you do the big exhale. You know...the same one you do at the end of a relationship, job, exam, close call. It's our body's way of saying goodbye, wrap it up, adios.

When I was around twenty one or so I got a pretty hard dumping from my girlfriend. I was ripped up. ....... calling and pleading my case. Of course, I realize now.....if you want to really push someone away....do that. We're funny creatures. But in the middle of my depression I took a walk down the street and spent a good chunk of the afternoon sitting in the local dugout. Ballfields...great places for clarity. And I was still close enough to reflect on glorious summer afternoons when I "owned" that field. I went home....called the girlfriend....told her I got it...wished her luck....good bye. Big exhale. She called me two days later. (Uh....sorry babe....too late.) So, I think, on my final exhale..... I want the works. Big wake, replete with posters, pictures, guitars, video, music music music and Catholic high mass. Full choir accompanied by a huge pipe organ. (Back off, Freud.) The burial thing I'm still a little leery of. Too many Twilight Zones. Remember the one....I think it was one of the later Twilight Zones... where the inmate at a prison makes a deal with the coffin maker to allow him to be buried with the next body that goes out...then the coffin maker will come dig him up and off he goes? A few weeks later the bell tolls signifying a death in the prison. That night our boy sneaks into the coffin with the fresh corpse and is buried the next day. After a while he starts getting worried, pulls the sheet back on his roommate and....... AAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!..........it's the coffin maker!!!!!!! Oops! Creeps me out, man.

My aunt was ready to die. She'd suffered with arthritis for years and lost her son a couple of years ago. My friend Steve had cancer, along with other things, and even though he was never awake the couple of times I went to see him, I'd heard he'd had enough, also. I left him the latest Rolling Stone. My new nephew, Michael....was he ready to be born? I think he was. I think we're in charge of that. (I refer you to earlier blogs) But I have to think this post demise celebration through some more. Guess I'd better let somebody know.

Life really is a gift, isn't it? So many paths that can be taken. Choice. TOO MANY!!!!! It really takes me a long time to catch on. To so many things. That's why I think I've been allowed to hang around this long. And so many close calls. But...I'm getting it....slowly. And I think the idea is....be good to each other. I can't seem to get away from that. Affect people. Think of how many people you've affected....on purpose or otherwise. I can think of three couples who've met on band jobs I've played. They had kids....and so on. I was giving this guy a guitar lesson many years ago and noticed he played like a drummer. We had a chat. Last I checked he was playing drums with a show band in Vegas. It's not E Street but, hey! I gave a guy from my old hometown a ride home one Christmas Eve when I saw him broken down on the side of the road. Something anyone'd do, right? I see him about once every five years and he still mentions that. With enthusiasm. Like it or not, we're affecting lives. I can't wait to see how it all ties together.

So what have I learned? Slowly? Be kind. And good pitching will always beat good hitting. Peace.

Scroll down for gig info

Gig

Sat, Nov. 17th , Ted Lyons will be appearing at "Christie's", Rt 31 in Glen Gardner, NJ (3 mi. north of rt 78). 6pm - 9..... performing folk, 60's, motown, originals, British Invasion.. .yadda...yadda...!!!!!!

..........And back at "Christie's again on Fri, Nov 23rd. Fun! Fun! Fun!(And only six months till Memorial Day !!!!)

(Karaoke and DJ to follow....10pm - 1)

And listen in Thurs. mornings on WDVR FM 6am - 9, 89.7 and 91.9. Streams at www.wdvrfm.org

What...ya gotta better theory?

Do you believe in reincarnation? I do............. I think. How are we possibly supposed to get the hang of this life thing in twenty...fifty.....eighty years? I believe in a higher power and an order to the universe. And I believe we've had a hand in deciding our place within that universe. (And yes, I also believe in long wet kisses) It's a comforting theory and would explain a lot of the misery associated with the planet. Lessons. Do better next time. And let's face it. No one REALLY knows. As I've mentioned before, eight years in St. Mary's Grammar school knocked any religion out of me. The nuns never talked much about love or embracing/celebrating life. They did talk about the penalties if you missed a Sunday mass or told a lie or....snuck into the bathroom. I remember asking one of my teachers ,"If God knows I'm gonna be a mass murderer and thus condemned to hell, why create me?" They never had a good answer except the all encompassing, "Well, it's a mystery." Yeah...I got that much.

I think Jesus, the actual guy who walked on the planet lo those many years ago, had it right. I don't presume to know who he was.... beyond a good hearted man. Son of God? Prophet? Wizard? You decide. But at one point he says to his followers, "Look, you idiots....(I'm paraphrasing)..... if you get nothing else....GET THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! Love your neighbor as yourself." Could you imagine the world if we just did that? One rule. My first grade catechism was seventy five pages of rules. C'MON!!!!!!! The genocide that's been committed over the centuries in the name of God is mind boggling. I think the big man's gotta be a little miffed. Murder/religion.......never got it. I think we're all in for a big surprise. And a good chuckle.

Forgiveness, I think, is important. If nothing else, resentments physically eats away at you. You may be holding a lot of anger for an old boss, girlfriend, teacher, coach...........but they no longer care and the only one it's affecting is you. So knock it off. I know. Easier said than done. I have a few folks in my past that I thought I'd forgiven but every now and then the old feelings resurface. But I'm trying. And I think that's the secret. Keep trying. 'Cause it's all gonna come out in the "wash." We already have all the answers. We know what to do to have good jobs and security. We know how to lose weight. We innately know how to be wonderful human beings. But we don't. Well....a lot of us don't. That's why I'm grateful to still be around. And considering a lot of the situations I put myself in as a youth...I shouldn't be. Grateful Dead concerts and all. But everything happens just the way it's supposed to and....... I'm a slow learner.

I was always impressed by people who knew what they wanted and went after it in a practical way. The owner/manager of a club where I used to play was shooting the breeze with me during a break one night and told me how he knew he wanted to own a club so he took business and finance courses in college and....voila! My mind was boggled. I mean, I always knew I wanted to be a musician but I wish I had gone about it in a more....uh....mature way. I don't feel like I even started to "get it" until around age forty. Better late than never?

Did you ever see that Saturday Night Live cartoon starring the Man of the hour? It's rerun every Christmas and it's right on the mark. We have Jesus walking through Anytown, USA and he sees televangelist Pat Robertson on a TV in a store window. He's impressed 'cause Pat is saying all the right things. Jesus hightails it down to the studio and excitedly tries to get on stage but Pat just keeps talking and elbowing Him out of the way, not missing a beat. The hilarity is that the audio is real and the animation is made to fit. Jesus is bummed and has the same outcome when he runs into Jerry Falwell and Robert Schuller. Lots of zealous religious talk but they just can't recognize Jesus. So the Savior hits the streets again and stops outside a grammar school. The front door is open and there's a commotion inside. As it starts to snow he realizes he's watching the Christmas story.......His Christmas story...... being played out by the Peanuts gang. His face brightens up as Linus delivers a soliloquy about the true meaning of Christmas. Well at the end Jesus just turns to the camera with a big grin on his face and breaks into the Snoopy dance accompanied by the Peanut's soundtrack. You know the tune.

It seems like I always see this cartoon at the right time. Maybe post Christmas party gig, or after a get together with old friends/family. Or just after watching "A Christmas Carol. " (The Alistair Sim version, of course.) How many times do you hear during the Christmas season,"If only we could hang onto this feeling all year.......there'd be peace everywhere......." What're you, nuts? There wouldn't be peace anywhere!!!! But the secret is...there can be peace in your world. Why not? Who's gonna stop you? Do the Snoopy dance anytime you want. Now get off my couch and go home.

ps. Umm.......... I could be wrong about everything.

What am I rebelling against?.......... Whaddaya got?

I don't own a motorcycle. I never have, and probably never will. Why? Because I'm pretty sure I'd kill myself. If I didn't do something stupid on my own...I can always depend on a deer to jump out or ......one of you. Motorists sometimes don't realize the size, weight and speed of a bike coming down the highway and...well...do somehing ....not too bright. I've been on both sides of that equation and the guy on the bike always gets the worst of it.

I was a junior in high school when a car pulled out from a stop sign and side swiped a friend of mine. His foot went through the guy's headlight and and a whole lot of ouch ensued. The worst part was he was the keyboard player in my high school band and we had a gig that weekend. Try playing "Light My Fire" with no keys. It ain't happenin'! Well, he made it. Cast and all. And did pretty well with the sympathy thing.

I was around twenty three...twenty four......when local boy Bobby Lella lost control of his bike after going over a railroad track and went airborne head first into a tree. Gone. I didn't know him too well. He was a little older. But he hung out at the local pub and the older guys were becoming less the older guys and just...the guys. Being in the local band always expedited the breaking down of barriers. Still.... it just seemed .....unfair.

Somehow I learned to "ride." Another friend had a bike and we'd ride out to this old construction site near a local college. Lots of hills and dips and...surprises. I was trying to climb this stubborn hill one day, gunned it, froze and went flying off the ridge on the other side. Came to on the ground with no shoe, no helmet and the bike on top of me. And... get this.... no injuries. My shoe was mangled and the helmet was scraped up and my buddies were scared s.....less. But no real harm. It was as if a message had been sent...and received. I'd contine to ride anytime anyone was foolish enough to let me get on their bike.

My friend Tom....gone but not forgotten.....would let me tool around on his Harley Sportster when he came around. That thing had a ton of giddyap. My nephew'd always let me take out his Kawasaki anytime I dropped over. Ah... a ride through the hills of Hunterdon County. Peaceful.

Probably the most interesting motorcycle experience I ever had was on the back seat of an Electra Glide out to Denver, Colo. Bob (not the earlier Bob) and his friend were heading out to watch Evel Kneivel jump the Snake River Canyon in Utah. Remember that scam? Well, I had a girlfriend? Ex girlfriend? Soon to be?.....in Denver, and a car with a frozen transmission, so I hopped aboard. It was October and it rained from Jersey to St Louis. I did a lot of the driving and it was a hoot. But I've never been so cold or wet in my life. And man, did the sun feel warm and did the Coors taste smooth when we finally crossed the Colorado border.( Those were the days when you could only get Coors west of the Mississippi.) The flight home seemed like pure luxury. Oh...uh.... it didn't work out with the girl. That band thing again.

I've played at a lot of motorcycle rallies...outlaw and otherwise. Always a hoot! And always full of surprises. As long as "Born To Be Wild" is on the list.....it's a party. I remember one rally I played in southern Jersey. We were a little late and as we were pulling in the guy watchin the gate proclaimed, "Hey, the band's here...we don't have to kill 'em." Thank you.

Remember the opening credits to "Easy Rider" when Fonda and Hopper are cruisin' down the highway and "Born to Follow" is playing and America's passing by and we were passing puberty and.......other things? Freedom. That's what the motorcycle is. Be it cross country or down to the corner grocery for a quart of milk. Freedom. Girls like guys on bikes. They won't always admit it. That danger factor. Girls like guys with guitars. I found that out when I was twelve. So..how' bout a guitar strapped to a bike. Hmmmmm. I didn't say I'd NEVER own a bike. Whoa...what's that coming at me....look out...it's....my mid life crisis!!!!!!!

Please.....drive safe. In the words of James Dean, "The life you save could be mine."