It's a struggle that has nothing to do with agoraphobia but it's a time a year when I just do not want to leave the house.
Another tough holiday after a tough year approaches and it's really hard to celebrate. Never know what to get my son. Hard to know what he likes to do other than watch trailers on iTunes.
Mom's been gone two years, my Brother two months, it's too freaking dark outside although unseasonably warm for this time of year.
So it's become too easy to stare at a screen, a device, to catch up on season two of Buffy and ironically chuckle at the use of a Sarah MacLachlan song in the last episode. The results are no real writing or reading gets done, let alone attempting to be social.
My Wife has some hope and started a new job this month, there is that to rightfully celebrate and appreciate.
Getting out in the crowds is difficult, but maybe next weekend. Perhaps the temperatures will remain warm or there will not be bitter wind chill to annoy me during the experience.
Showing posts with label death 2013. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death 2013. Show all posts
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Thursday, November 12, 2015
It's trendy to slag them off now
This song is one of the several that got me through a rough patch in my life nine Novembers ago. This month symbolizes lock down to me. The leaves go, have to be picked up and raked. We're paying someone to do that for us now, which is one major difference from those days when bleak was the norm. The temperature drops then the days get shorter as I go to work in the dark and come home to sunset.
Doesn't help that death came last month and there are now constant reminders of it to our house throughout the holidays now.
So maybe the best thing tonight will be drinking down some Cava and watching the Bills/Jets game from the couch. Even the football is taking up too much time investment these days. I've only so much time, so many hours, left. It's coming to a point where I have to really start thinking hard about time allocation. Or maybe I should just go with what I'm dealt, every day, for whatever is left.
It's hard to remember the fun with all the shouting going on when I look at my screen, which I admit is another part of the problem.
I will be out for a reading tomorrow night, at Kitamu Coffee in Hilliard, featuring with the wonderful Nancy Kangas. Here's the information about it. I will have a lot of new and newer poems about death and travel. Guaranteed to be entertaining and engaging. Plus, free!
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Dreaming of the past and those gone
Somehow I found myself in a situation in which I was going to buy into or begin working in a wine shop. I was not sure of the ownership, if the boss was telling the truth about employees scamming him or if he was the scammer.
Somehow a friend of mine became involved as a potential investor or part time employee.
We were on a large couch, she was on one end, talking to people, I on the other and her late husband, J., was in the middle. He looked younger, I think around the age when we first met. No one was talking to him, she did not seem to notice he was there.
So I said to him, “You’re the ghost between us,” and he laughed. I said he looked well, and he said he was alright and that he was making sure his widow's business dealings were on the level. I was the only one who could see him because I was getting odd looks having a conversation with an empty space next to me on the couch. It was a pleasant conversation.
Then I woke up. And that was it, I let her know about the dream and she seemed pleased, and she let me know she was not in any potentially risky financial deals - neither am I.
Have to say it was a comforting dream. I rarely remember them and it was good to see J., he's missed.
Somehow a friend of mine became involved as a potential investor or part time employee.
We were on a large couch, she was on one end, talking to people, I on the other and her late husband, J., was in the middle. He looked younger, I think around the age when we first met. No one was talking to him, she did not seem to notice he was there.
So I said to him, “You’re the ghost between us,” and he laughed. I said he looked well, and he said he was alright and that he was making sure his widow's business dealings were on the level. I was the only one who could see him because I was getting odd looks having a conversation with an empty space next to me on the couch. It was a pleasant conversation.
Then I woke up. And that was it, I let her know about the dream and she seemed pleased, and she let me know she was not in any potentially risky financial deals - neither am I.
Have to say it was a comforting dream. I rarely remember them and it was good to see J., he's missed.
Friday, December 12, 2014
Reaching for the phone, and having to stop
One year ago my Mom died. People have told me it does not get any easier, and they are right. She is on my mind every day as are what my Stepfather and Aunt are going through. And what the other members of my family are going through.
It's hard, you expect that. But you do not know how much.
It's hard, you expect that. But you do not know how much.
Thursday, October 23, 2014
A rehatching
New York Governor Andrew Cuomo issued a press release today, announcing that the Hatchery at Connetquot River State Park will begin operating again next year.
My Mom worked here and loved working in the hatchery. A virus shut it down in 2008 and there was a strong chance that it would never reopen. A lot of people in the park were very disappointed that it was not happening.
"The project is funded by a $150,000 Environmental Protection Fund grant awarded through Governor Cuomo’s Regional Economic Development Council initiative. The Friends of Connetquot and other local fishing clubs will contribute $10,000 to purchase eggs needed to begin cultivating fish."
I think my Mom would have been very happy to see this happen. Her memorial bench is located by the hatchery.
The entire press release is here.
My Mom worked here and loved working in the hatchery. A virus shut it down in 2008 and there was a strong chance that it would never reopen. A lot of people in the park were very disappointed that it was not happening.
"The project is funded by a $150,000 Environmental Protection Fund grant awarded through Governor Cuomo’s Regional Economic Development Council initiative. The Friends of Connetquot and other local fishing clubs will contribute $10,000 to purchase eggs needed to begin cultivating fish."
I think my Mom would have been very happy to see this happen. Her memorial bench is located by the hatchery.
The entire press release is here.
Sunday, May 11, 2014
The missing phone call I cannot make
First Mother's Day without Mom around this year and it's solemn. You scroll through all the pictures on the social media of friends with their Mothers who are still thriving and you can't be mad. Life is for the living. And some friends recognize that the people in their circles have Mothers who are no longer around, and that's alright too I guess.
I want to call her and say that her Grandson is going to have the same caretaker this summer as last, and they're going to have fun because they will not be going to the hospital every day like last summer.
I want to call her and say I had a great time at Kafe Kerouac's 10th anniversary bash and that Scott Woods hosted an excellent and compact 45 minutes of poetry and assembled some great poets.
I want to tell her that being involved in an increasingly bureaucratic organization is taking the fun out of it for me and I'm not doing the thing about the thing that I should be doing.
I want to tell her how wonderful my wife is at putting up with my nonsense but that we did not get into an argument at IKEA yesterday despite her not liking the coffee mug I wanted. Oh, we could afford to buy stuff at IKEA yesterday, thanks Mom.
I want to tell her we're going to have a heat pump installed later this month so we'll have central air in the house for the first time in 11 years. Thanks Mom.
I want to tell her that a lot of people miss her because she's not around. And that people will always love her.
I want to call her and say that her Grandson is going to have the same caretaker this summer as last, and they're going to have fun because they will not be going to the hospital every day like last summer.
I want to call her and say I had a great time at Kafe Kerouac's 10th anniversary bash and that Scott Woods hosted an excellent and compact 45 minutes of poetry and assembled some great poets.
I want to tell her that being involved in an increasingly bureaucratic organization is taking the fun out of it for me and I'm not doing the thing about the thing that I should be doing.
I want to tell her how wonderful my wife is at putting up with my nonsense but that we did not get into an argument at IKEA yesterday despite her not liking the coffee mug I wanted. Oh, we could afford to buy stuff at IKEA yesterday, thanks Mom.
I want to tell her we're going to have a heat pump installed later this month so we'll have central air in the house for the first time in 11 years. Thanks Mom.
I want to tell her that a lot of people miss her because she's not around. And that people will always love her.
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
A step up
It's a rare day when I bring up anything work related here, but after some time, an amount of time that will not be named here, it finally happened.
A promotion!
How I found out was an odd tale of bureaucratic weirdness. I was not expecting a dove release or a singing telegram, but the normal channels would have been nice.
But it is done, and there is some joy within all the sadness and raging.
Thanks for reading.
I'm thinking of Darren now, and how he always was kind when things at my old job did not go well.
And something else I cannot call my Mom about.
A promotion!
How I found out was an odd tale of bureaucratic weirdness. I was not expecting a dove release or a singing telegram, but the normal channels would have been nice.
But it is done, and there is some joy within all the sadness and raging.
Thanks for reading.
I'm thinking of Darren now, and how he always was kind when things at my old job did not go well.
And something else I cannot call my Mom about.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
One month in
This was the week I could finally get a few things done with the car that needed to be done.
When you buy a car by yourself, there are things you may not necessarily think of. After I signed the papers and took the car home my wife and I went out shopping.
When she went to open the passenger door, there was no handle! Very odd. When you're the driver, you take for granted the handle will be there. I immediately called the dealership. Sure, I missed it, but do they really want to be known for selling a car with no door handle?
The salesman was kind of surprised too, "I'd say that was an essential piece of equipment." He agreed to have it taken care of. It took a bit longer than I wanted, but holidays and other things set in. Finally got that taken care of yesterday.
About a week after I had the car, I looked in the trunk a bit more, and there was the broken door handle.
There were other things the dealer was not going to take care of that I had done today. Could have had them done myself, but I have neither the patience or tools to get the job I wanted done. Sometimes paying for peace of mind is easier than doing it yourself.
Mom's been gone a month and it's hard. I want to call her, but that's impossible. My motivation for a lot of things is low, but I plod on. Have to. Spoke to my step-father, who naturally has his moments also, but is keeping busy.
I've been told the park bench will be assembled and etched with daffodils along with a plaque. It's going to be dedicated in April, when the flowers in the park will be in bloom. If I can get some advance notice, I'm going to do my best to be there. If you'd like to donate to preserve the park my loved so much, you can do so here. If you have, a sincere thank you on behalf of my family.
When you buy a car by yourself, there are things you may not necessarily think of. After I signed the papers and took the car home my wife and I went out shopping.
When she went to open the passenger door, there was no handle! Very odd. When you're the driver, you take for granted the handle will be there. I immediately called the dealership. Sure, I missed it, but do they really want to be known for selling a car with no door handle?
The salesman was kind of surprised too, "I'd say that was an essential piece of equipment." He agreed to have it taken care of. It took a bit longer than I wanted, but holidays and other things set in. Finally got that taken care of yesterday.
About a week after I had the car, I looked in the trunk a bit more, and there was the broken door handle.
There were other things the dealer was not going to take care of that I had done today. Could have had them done myself, but I have neither the patience or tools to get the job I wanted done. Sometimes paying for peace of mind is easier than doing it yourself.
Mom's been gone a month and it's hard. I want to call her, but that's impossible. My motivation for a lot of things is low, but I plod on. Have to. Spoke to my step-father, who naturally has his moments also, but is keeping busy.
I've been told the park bench will be assembled and etched with daffodils along with a plaque. It's going to be dedicated in April, when the flowers in the park will be in bloom. If I can get some advance notice, I'm going to do my best to be there. If you'd like to donate to preserve the park my loved so much, you can do so here. If you have, a sincere thank you on behalf of my family.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
The first pity post of 2014
Resolutions really are not my thing, they lead to disappointment. Sure, I'd like to drop 30-40 pounds, live a more authentic life that is filled with joy, substance and other buzz terms of the New Year but it's hard to not be cynical even though you know you have to plow through the first signs of failure.
The last few weeks have been a real struggle. It's been doubly hard when I have had little rest due to my son's energy and poor sleep cycles dominating the evening and early morning hours. I freely admit to being a total asshole when I'm sleep deprived, and thank my wife profusely for taking care of my son during the days of his winter break. Dealing with me in general is not easy, and I cannot express my gratitude enough that she chooses to sleep next to me, and stuff.
My son has definitely made real, solid and true progress with his eating. He's gaining weight, and that is a goal being reached. In other ways though, he's really locked in his world, in verbal and social skills he is sorely lacking and in toilet training, well, not going there in full today.
So it's disheartening hearing about other people's kids doing so well in school and sports and in life. Why didn't I get this? Woe is me. I do not begrudge the success of anyone's child. It's great, and wonderful. But to go brag about asking my son what he wants when he gets out of the shower and he says the word, "dry." Really do not want to put that in a status update. Especially when I ask him at 4:30 the next morning, after he's been up for an hour, after four hours sleep, what he wants and I get no response at all but another few pages of script he memorized from the Wonderpets. Here's where I question my parenting skills, and this happens often.
So it's the lack of daylight, and warmth, and the grief I'm feeling in so many ways right now has reduced my confidence, made my face break out and put me off track in writing and getting my shit together with the Arts Festival. I mean, what the hell do I do when people to not respond to a direct question? I can't put my energy into repeating the questions anymore.
In some ways I'm feeling like an outsider looking in on other people's lives and my lack of involvement in them. Sometimes I think all the cool stuff happens on weekends and nights I have my son. I also know it is my fault I am not reaching out enough. In 2014, I can only once again get the energy to get out of the house, shut the laptop and try try again to move forward. This is a very hard thing to accomplish.
The last few weeks have been a real struggle. It's been doubly hard when I have had little rest due to my son's energy and poor sleep cycles dominating the evening and early morning hours. I freely admit to being a total asshole when I'm sleep deprived, and thank my wife profusely for taking care of my son during the days of his winter break. Dealing with me in general is not easy, and I cannot express my gratitude enough that she chooses to sleep next to me, and stuff.
My son has definitely made real, solid and true progress with his eating. He's gaining weight, and that is a goal being reached. In other ways though, he's really locked in his world, in verbal and social skills he is sorely lacking and in toilet training, well, not going there in full today.
So it's disheartening hearing about other people's kids doing so well in school and sports and in life. Why didn't I get this? Woe is me. I do not begrudge the success of anyone's child. It's great, and wonderful. But to go brag about asking my son what he wants when he gets out of the shower and he says the word, "dry." Really do not want to put that in a status update. Especially when I ask him at 4:30 the next morning, after he's been up for an hour, after four hours sleep, what he wants and I get no response at all but another few pages of script he memorized from the Wonderpets. Here's where I question my parenting skills, and this happens often.
So it's the lack of daylight, and warmth, and the grief I'm feeling in so many ways right now has reduced my confidence, made my face break out and put me off track in writing and getting my shit together with the Arts Festival. I mean, what the hell do I do when people to not respond to a direct question? I can't put my energy into repeating the questions anymore.
In some ways I'm feeling like an outsider looking in on other people's lives and my lack of involvement in them. Sometimes I think all the cool stuff happens on weekends and nights I have my son. I also know it is my fault I am not reaching out enough. In 2014, I can only once again get the energy to get out of the house, shut the laptop and try try again to move forward. This is a very hard thing to accomplish.
Saturday, December 21, 2013
Close to a dock on the bay
It was something my wife said. Something along the lines of not being unable to stop thinking about her, wearing the gloves and coat she got me - who is going to dress us now?
My brother asked if I would write a nice poem. I was a bit raw at the time, it may not have been nice.
The morning of the viewing I got in the rental and headed south down Ocean Avenue, it ended at a park on the Great South Bay. I parked the car on a windy, cold and damp morning and wrote this while Captain Jack was on the radio. Had it in my back pocket all weekend, but was never asked if I wanted to read anything. It's ok that I was not, was ready though.
An Endless Covering
You gave me your skin
these clothes on my back
and we wonder who will dress us
now that you are no longer here
to answer long distance phone calls
on Sunday nights.
Calls for advice, venting
a reveal of good news
and changes in health
Because you fought so hard
we will keep in motion
the way the water on the windy
Great South Bay
leaps at high tide
We continue and know that in our dressers,
our camphor closets are stocked
with sweaters, warm socks
that forever remind us
of your love
My brother asked if I would write a nice poem. I was a bit raw at the time, it may not have been nice.
The morning of the viewing I got in the rental and headed south down Ocean Avenue, it ended at a park on the Great South Bay. I parked the car on a windy, cold and damp morning and wrote this while Captain Jack was on the radio. Had it in my back pocket all weekend, but was never asked if I wanted to read anything. It's ok that I was not, was ready though.
An Endless Covering
You gave me your skin
these clothes on my back
and we wonder who will dress us
now that you are no longer here
to answer long distance phone calls
on Sunday nights.
Calls for advice, venting
a reveal of good news
and changes in health
Because you fought so hard
we will keep in motion
the way the water on the windy
Great South Bay
leaps at high tide
We continue and know that in our dressers,
our camphor closets are stocked
with sweaters, warm socks
that forever remind us
of your love
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Not much better than the Ford Focus I rented
When you move away from your parents, you do not know about all of the life they have. My Mom touched a lot of lives. The viewings were both jam packed with people who came to pay their respects. There were people I had not seen in 30-40 years. There were friends and co-workers who knew who I was even though I had no clue who they were.
The funeral home put together a nice video of pictures from various parts of her life that was quite touching. I contributed a few last minute pictures of my own and also made my own little slide show of my Mom's life that you can see here.
I'd always tease my Mom about her love of Rod Stewart, which was why I chose one of his songs for the video I made.
The mass was kind of bungled up by a new priest from Colombia, who spoke softly, with a very thick accent. He relied on the microphone to project his voice and it was not working for him. Then the battery died on the mic, and he could be heard better once he spoke louder. It got weird when one of the laypeople was looking for batteries in the room behind the altar and you could heard all kinds of drawers opening along with some banging.
It got weirder when the priest lost the plot and invited some dead relatives to bring the gifts to the altar. Had said deceased relatives shown up with the gifts of wine and bread, I may have converted then and there.
Then the priest honored the deceased relatives by naming someone who was very much alive, that's when one of my family members had to get up and correct the guy.
I was told about a bagpiper who would be outside the church when my Mom's coffin was brought out, it still startled me a little. Later, I heard the piper arrived early and mistakenly started playing in the cold and snow for the funeral service that happened before my Mom's. So the poor guy had to stand out there and play twice.
You had to laugh, and we did.
When I got home, I wanted to call her to say I got home alright. There are going to be so many of those moments now. Every piece of news about my son, when I'm looking to chat or vent or anything, she's not going to be there. It will take awhile for me to process that. And I have to work hard to keep involved with the family left on the island.
My Mom worked at the Connetquot State Park for many years and loved her job. If anyone wishes to pay their respects, they can send a donation in Honor of Patricia Costello the Friends of the Connetquot River Reserve. There are plans of honoring my Mom with a park bench and a plaque on a sycamore tree. It's a wonderful way to remember her.
The funeral home put together a nice video of pictures from various parts of her life that was quite touching. I contributed a few last minute pictures of my own and also made my own little slide show of my Mom's life that you can see here.
I'd always tease my Mom about her love of Rod Stewart, which was why I chose one of his songs for the video I made.
The mass was kind of bungled up by a new priest from Colombia, who spoke softly, with a very thick accent. He relied on the microphone to project his voice and it was not working for him. Then the battery died on the mic, and he could be heard better once he spoke louder. It got weird when one of the laypeople was looking for batteries in the room behind the altar and you could heard all kinds of drawers opening along with some banging.
It got weirder when the priest lost the plot and invited some dead relatives to bring the gifts to the altar. Had said deceased relatives shown up with the gifts of wine and bread, I may have converted then and there.
Then the priest honored the deceased relatives by naming someone who was very much alive, that's when one of my family members had to get up and correct the guy.
I was told about a bagpiper who would be outside the church when my Mom's coffin was brought out, it still startled me a little. Later, I heard the piper arrived early and mistakenly started playing in the cold and snow for the funeral service that happened before my Mom's. So the poor guy had to stand out there and play twice.
You had to laugh, and we did.
When I got home, I wanted to call her to say I got home alright. There are going to be so many of those moments now. Every piece of news about my son, when I'm looking to chat or vent or anything, she's not going to be there. It will take awhile for me to process that. And I have to work hard to keep involved with the family left on the island.
My Mom worked at the Connetquot State Park for many years and loved her job. If anyone wishes to pay their respects, they can send a donation in Honor of Patricia Costello the Friends of the Connetquot River Reserve. There are plans of honoring my Mom with a park bench and a plaque on a sycamore tree. It's a wonderful way to remember her.
Friday, December 13, 2013
Peace, and how fast it can happen
My Mom died last night. She had been ill for awhile, but this was not expected. I spoke to her on Sunday, neither of us realizing it would be the last conversation we would have. It was a pleasant talk, about my son and Christmas and her pending chemotherapy. She was in good spirits and sounded more energetic that she did in some time.
She started the chemo on Monday, and things went horribly wrong. She never liked social media much so I will not go into the details about her health. She died peacefully. My Stepfather, brothers and her sister all giving support. She was loved. Very much.
A friend's mother died very suddenly in a car accident on Monday. It can all end in a moment. It's been an odd week. I'm leaving on Sunday for the service and what comes with it. Still trying to process the loss of the person who has known me the longest, and who will live on in memory.
She started the chemo on Monday, and things went horribly wrong. She never liked social media much so I will not go into the details about her health. She died peacefully. My Stepfather, brothers and her sister all giving support. She was loved. Very much.
A friend's mother died very suddenly in a car accident on Monday. It can all end in a moment. It's been an odd week. I'm leaving on Sunday for the service and what comes with it. Still trying to process the loss of the person who has known me the longest, and who will live on in memory.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
He did amazing things
Never thought I'd see him released from prison. Then change happened. Other than that one photograph, I had no idea what he looked like, or the sound of his voice.
Rest in Peace, Nelson Mandela. Rest well, you earned it.
Rest in Peace, Nelson Mandela. Rest well, you earned it.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Worse than my fantasy football teams
My son's sleep cycle has been erratic again. He has been waking up around 4AM after going to bed between 10-11. He has not been staying up long, but long enough so I cannot go back to sleep.
I heard him Around 4:45 today and was about ready to go into his room to see how he was doing. When I opened my bedroom door he was standing in the landing. I told him to go back to bed and followed him. It's hard to know why he wakes up. Was he scared? Did he have a bad dream? His being non-verbal is very stressful for both of us. Gave him some cuddles as he quickly went back to sleep. That was about it for my night's sleep. At least there was a 7AM soccer match to entertain me until it was time to wake him up for breakfast.
Friday night's tragedy at the Clutha in Glasgow in Scotland was very saddening. I've never been in there, but have been by it many times. It was a couple of blocks from where my sister-in-law used to live and I walked by it frequently. It was one of those bars I always meant to go into, but never found the time. It seemed like a friendly enough established local and it's a real bummer that a bunch of people were there on a Friday, having a good time until a helicopter crashed into the roof. Eight are dead, a few dozen are injured. Lives are changed forever.
Another acquaintance from my college days died over the weekend. I knew Greg first at the radio station then he was instrumental in my getting the DJ job at Rascals after he left. We were never really close but he was a decent enough person who did not deserve to die at 51. Rest in peace, Greg.
I heard him Around 4:45 today and was about ready to go into his room to see how he was doing. When I opened my bedroom door he was standing in the landing. I told him to go back to bed and followed him. It's hard to know why he wakes up. Was he scared? Did he have a bad dream? His being non-verbal is very stressful for both of us. Gave him some cuddles as he quickly went back to sleep. That was about it for my night's sleep. At least there was a 7AM soccer match to entertain me until it was time to wake him up for breakfast.
Friday night's tragedy at the Clutha in Glasgow in Scotland was very saddening. I've never been in there, but have been by it many times. It was a couple of blocks from where my sister-in-law used to live and I walked by it frequently. It was one of those bars I always meant to go into, but never found the time. It seemed like a friendly enough established local and it's a real bummer that a bunch of people were there on a Friday, having a good time until a helicopter crashed into the roof. Eight are dead, a few dozen are injured. Lives are changed forever.
Another acquaintance from my college days died over the weekend. I knew Greg first at the radio station then he was instrumental in my getting the DJ job at Rascals after he left. We were never really close but he was a decent enough person who did not deserve to die at 51. Rest in peace, Greg.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
That day I was the Wedding Poet
Yesterday I was humbled with the opportunity to read a poem at a friends wedding. It was not my poem, but one by Taylor Mali, and I was honored to carry it around with me for a few weeks so I could read it aloud and get to know it so I would not screw it up when the time came.
The night before, we were at the rehearsal when I read it in public for the first time and it went alright. I was worried about my pacing and tone but assured all was well.
Just before the wedding, the DJ came up to me and said the hand held microphone would be ready for me when I needed it. Gulp, I was not aware there would be a microphone but figured out how to hold the mic and paper so it would be ok.
The ceremony was lovely, a lot of love in the ballroom and when it was my turn I walked over, took the mic and bashed it out quite well. Had two pages and dropped one discreetly when necessary and one of the flower girls picked up the page and handed it to me when I was finished. Darn nice of her!
Cannot thank Alexis and Jaison enough for having me be a part of their special day!
Here's the text of the poem I read. Taylor Mali performs it a bit different than the text, especially in the beginning. It's his poem, a fine poem, he can do whatever he wants.
Earlier this afternoon, my wife told me of the death of Lou Reed. It made me sad for his wife, Laurie Anderson, but did not come as a huge surprise as he just had a liver transplant in May. Although no cause of death has been released, I suspect years of abuse, and possible complications from the transplant, finally caught up to him.
His music was raw and inspiring. It could also be odd and infuriating. He was an artist who frequently was at odds with the critics and his own fan base. The one time I saw him live in Fredonia in 1984 left a bad taste in my mouth about him. He was allowed to whine about the brightness of the house lights, but to berate his guitarist, the great Robert Quine (who did not deserve it, and did not work with Reed again) and his drummer (may have been Lenny Ferrari, who missed cues) while kissing the ass of bassist Fernando Saunders showed me an incredible lack of professional tact - the show did live by the creed of the Velvet Underground, it left me wanting less.
Gone now, his music has influenced generations of aspiring artists, and will continue to resonate.
The night before, we were at the rehearsal when I read it in public for the first time and it went alright. I was worried about my pacing and tone but assured all was well.
Just before the wedding, the DJ came up to me and said the hand held microphone would be ready for me when I needed it. Gulp, I was not aware there would be a microphone but figured out how to hold the mic and paper so it would be ok.
The ceremony was lovely, a lot of love in the ballroom and when it was my turn I walked over, took the mic and bashed it out quite well. Had two pages and dropped one discreetly when necessary and one of the flower girls picked up the page and handed it to me when I was finished. Darn nice of her!
Cannot thank Alexis and Jaison enough for having me be a part of their special day!
Here's the text of the poem I read. Taylor Mali performs it a bit different than the text, especially in the beginning. It's his poem, a fine poem, he can do whatever he wants.
Earlier this afternoon, my wife told me of the death of Lou Reed. It made me sad for his wife, Laurie Anderson, but did not come as a huge surprise as he just had a liver transplant in May. Although no cause of death has been released, I suspect years of abuse, and possible complications from the transplant, finally caught up to him.
His music was raw and inspiring. It could also be odd and infuriating. He was an artist who frequently was at odds with the critics and his own fan base. The one time I saw him live in Fredonia in 1984 left a bad taste in my mouth about him. He was allowed to whine about the brightness of the house lights, but to berate his guitarist, the great Robert Quine (who did not deserve it, and did not work with Reed again) and his drummer (may have been Lenny Ferrari, who missed cues) while kissing the ass of bassist Fernando Saunders showed me an incredible lack of professional tact - the show did live by the creed of the Velvet Underground, it left me wanting less.
Gone now, his music has influenced generations of aspiring artists, and will continue to resonate.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
All the people I know are beginning to fade away
This morning I received word through a Facebook update that a college friend is dying of cancer. I wish his family and friends peace during this difficult time. Mike and I connected again through Facebook. We shared jokes, stories, movies, music and politics. I now seriously regret not being able to speak to him more during the reunion in Fredonia in 2010. It was a crazy, busy night and you talked briefly to everyone or no one. A few days later, in a Facebook message, I did make mention of that and he agreed. A few months ago I heard he was ill. He slowed up his posting to Facebook. I figured he had more important things to do. Did not realize the severity of his condition until hours ago.
You always think there’s going to be another time. There may not be. Everything can be lost in a moment. Have to be a bit thankful for social media though, none of the connections would have happened without it.
This is the second friend of around my age to be claimed by cancer this year. It’s hard to come to terms with aging. It sucks and it’s getting me down.
You always think there’s going to be another time. There may not be. Everything can be lost in a moment. Have to be a bit thankful for social media though, none of the connections would have happened without it.
This is the second friend of around my age to be claimed by cancer this year. It’s hard to come to terms with aging. It sucks and it’s getting me down.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
The swingback
It was the day reservations for a road trip in July came through, details were worked out seamlessly - I made a Facebook comment about waiting for the other shoe to drop.
A week or so later my son was in the hospital, a relative was hospitalized on the east coast and a friend's father died.
That's life, I guess. It's not doing good things for my blood pressure though.
The better news is that all of the poets in the Columbus Arts Festival have been contacted that they have, or have not, won a slot on the Word is Art Stage. I'm waiting for the Festival to officially release the names and schedule, I will tell you it's very a very talented and diverse group of poets. There are veterans, rookies and members of the slam scene who have not read at Arts Fest. I'm really excited for June to get here.
A week or so later my son was in the hospital, a relative was hospitalized on the east coast and a friend's father died.
That's life, I guess. It's not doing good things for my blood pressure though.
The better news is that all of the poets in the Columbus Arts Festival have been contacted that they have, or have not, won a slot on the Word is Art Stage. I'm waiting for the Festival to officially release the names and schedule, I will tell you it's very a very talented and diverse group of poets. There are veterans, rookies and members of the slam scene who have not read at Arts Fest. I'm really excited for June to get here.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Assuming room temperature
A friend of mine died on Monday. A brilliant, witty (the subject line is one he would use often) and opinionated man was taken from us and his amazing wife way too soon. Just a couple of years older than me, he beat me at chess while staring at an empty board on the other side of the room while I had the board with the pieces in front of me. Cancer sucks. I first met him through a friend of my wife and I, who told us she was marrying this man she met at her brother's wedding a few months earlier. She thought nothing would come of it. They had twenty three years together. Not enough if you ask me. Not enough if you ask anyone who knew them.
At first they lived on a rural road in a holler on New York State's southern tier. Outside the house was his Jensen Healy, no longer running. And it sat there for years, home to chipmunks and leaves for several years.
He did finally get it restored. I rode in it. There were no seat belts. There were always risks Jeff was willing to take. He should have had many years of life left.
He is missed so much by many already. Rest in Peace, Jeff.
At first they lived on a rural road in a holler on New York State's southern tier. Outside the house was his Jensen Healy, no longer running. And it sat there for years, home to chipmunks and leaves for several years.
He did finally get it restored. I rode in it. There were no seat belts. There were always risks Jeff was willing to take. He should have had many years of life left.
He is missed so much by many already. Rest in Peace, Jeff.
Friday, February 1, 2013
Welcome to my bridge
You have to be larger than life to be Mayor of New York City and Ed Koch certainly lived up to that billing. He served three terms as Mayor in the late 70’s to 1989. I lived in Fredonia most of his term, but his actions always echoed across the state, especially when he called the suburbs sterile and ridiculed the rural areas. Not a great idea and it was one of many reasons why he never became Governor.
He was a self-proclaimed liberal with sanity who endorsed many republican candidates after leaving office. A controversial master of self-promotion he was always in the media spotlight as a film reviewer or judge on The People’s Court.
To me, he’ll always be the cantankerous, brash yet loveable Mayor of New York. Whether or not I agreed with his politics no longer matters, he died this morning at the age of 88.
Last year he appeared in this fluff piece for Emperor Bloomberg, his twenty five second cameo (Yes, the bridge is named after him) blows the current mayor out of the water.
He will be buried in Trinity Cemetery, the last cemetery in New York City still doing burials, because he did not want to be buried in New Jersey saying, "The idea of leaving Manhattan permanently irritates me." An ambassador for New York all his life. A New Yorker until the end. Rest in Peace.
He was a self-proclaimed liberal with sanity who endorsed many republican candidates after leaving office. A controversial master of self-promotion he was always in the media spotlight as a film reviewer or judge on The People’s Court.
To me, he’ll always be the cantankerous, brash yet loveable Mayor of New York. Whether or not I agreed with his politics no longer matters, he died this morning at the age of 88.
Last year he appeared in this fluff piece for Emperor Bloomberg, his twenty five second cameo (Yes, the bridge is named after him) blows the current mayor out of the water.
He will be buried in Trinity Cemetery, the last cemetery in New York City still doing burials, because he did not want to be buried in New Jersey saying, "The idea of leaving Manhattan permanently irritates me." An ambassador for New York all his life. A New Yorker until the end. Rest in Peace.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
But Jesus, what brave losers we are
Early this morning, Jack McCarthy died. I've written about him a few times, most notedly here. It's very sad, but not unexpected. His voice has been silenced, but his words and influence will remain. The subject header of this post is a line from one of Jack's poems. Rest in peace, Jack. And thank you.
Jack was a Haiku Master, winning the championship at IWPS in 2007. Tomorrow night I'll be taking part in a Haiku Death Match for Writers' Block First Draft. It's the Haiku Nuku January event. Starts at 8PM at Kafe Kerouac.
I have very little to say about Lance Armstrong, but can add a couple of pennies about the drama that is surrounding Mantei Te'o. It's very depressing when one goes to such a deep effort of creating a person online whose only purpose seem to be manipulative. A few years ago I was in a situation where Catfishing was created and people close to me were drawn into and manufacturing the craziness. It's not fun and potentially harmful. So if Te'o was sucked in and is a victim, he has my sympathy. However, I do think he was involved in the hoax based on his claims that he met the girl in person. It's a weird situation all around.
Jack was a Haiku Master, winning the championship at IWPS in 2007. Tomorrow night I'll be taking part in a Haiku Death Match for Writers' Block First Draft. It's the Haiku Nuku January event. Starts at 8PM at Kafe Kerouac.
I have very little to say about Lance Armstrong, but can add a couple of pennies about the drama that is surrounding Mantei Te'o. It's very depressing when one goes to such a deep effort of creating a person online whose only purpose seem to be manipulative. A few years ago I was in a situation where Catfishing was created and people close to me were drawn into and manufacturing the craziness. It's not fun and potentially harmful. So if Te'o was sucked in and is a victim, he has my sympathy. However, I do think he was involved in the hoax based on his claims that he met the girl in person. It's a weird situation all around.
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