Browse Category: Stories

WHEN I’M BORED, I PICK UP GIRLS AT THE AIRPORT

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

SOMETIMES you just need to spend a little time with some good friends. It doesn’t matter what you really do. When you are down and feeling a little worn out from it all, to be around friends can be the best antidote. Throw in a few drinks because you don’t have to drive. Add a lot of laughs. The result is a relieved and lighter heart.

So, tonight I had the opportunity to hang out with my friends Pete and Ruth. It all came about because I received a few photos that I purchased from someone through eBay. They are photos of Johnny Cash when he was arrested in 1965. A few days after buying the mug shot photos of Cash, I got an email from the seller saying that I got lucky because the lawyers for Johnny Cash’s estate got a court order to prevent them from selling any more of the photos. I was more than lucky. I got a second copy for Pete, who is the biggest Johnny Cash fan in the universe. He and Ruth came by, with a bottle of Pete’s homemade wine. That was a fair trade for a few unique photos of the Man in Black.

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Pete and Ruth were on their way to Lehigh Valley International Airport to pick up Ruth’s daughter, Joanie, “the little blonde girl from Cell Block A.” (As you can see by these photos, her mug shot is much cuter than Johnny Cash’s.) I decided to tag along with Pete and Ruth. Certainly an airport would present Pete and I with ample opportunities to goof around, especially with my digital camera in hand. There was a large sign for a natural gas company on the wall. We had a pretty funny idea for a picture. But we just couldn’t get up the nerve to have Pete pose for a natural gas spoof when there were three old men sitting in front of the sign.

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Joanie was flying back from Connecticut and apparently had to go by way of Albany and then Philadelphia before arriving in Allentown. She probably could have driven home faster! By the time she got off of the plane, she was tired and cranky and face to face with Pete and me! Of course, we teased her right away. We teased her more when we realized she was cranky. Pete stood on one side of the luggage return and harassed Joanie, while I stood on the other side and took photos. All in all, she was a good sport about it and said she was even looking forward to seeing some of the photos on the website. Here they are! Who am I to disappoint a lady?

After the airport, we drove Joanie back to “Schmutztown” where she goes to school. I hop out of the car when we arrived and volunteered to do the manly thing and carry Joanie’s luggage into her apartment. Pete opens the trunk and does the smart thing by giving me the largest bag to carry. The next thing I knew I was looking up the longest, steepest flight of creaky old stairs I ever saw. Luckily, Joanie was in front of me going up the steps so that she didn’t see my body shaking from the strain of the two-ton bag on my back. But she did hear me say, “I think I can. I think I can,” about three quarters of the way up. Not very impressive.

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A door at the top of the stairs opened into a kitchen. There I found myself old and completely out of breath…before a room full of cute, young college girls. Not very impressive at all. When one of the girls asked Joanie who I was, I couldn’t hear her response. I’m sure it was something like, “Oh that’s just Sam, one of my mom’s boyfriend’s nut-job friends who runs around with a digital camera. Don’t pay any attention to him.”

The first thing that Pete and I found amusing was the fact that the preferred drink of these college kids was Boone’s Farm wine. Now, you know that any wine that comes with a screw off cap cannot be very good. But it is cheap! To college kids, that is all that matters. Quality does not matter so long as there is enough alcohol to get drunk with. It doesn’t matter if it’s cheap wine or after shave lotion when you’re in college.

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The second amusing thing was one of the guys (the one with the red hat in the photo) who showed up right after us and made a comment that he could out drink me anytime. This kid had some good wine stashed away in the fridge. I guess I made some flippant remark while he was pouring a big glass for me and he took it the wrong way. He got all flexed up and boasted that he could out drink me. Pete and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Right… Just pour me another glass of wine there, Sunshine.” I then clicked off a picture of the kids that were there, told them that it would be emailed to all of their parents, and that the authorities would arrive at the apartment within the hour. The look on their faces was priceless. Go ahead! Out drink me! Just remember… I have a website and I’ll make you look stupid in the end!

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We ended the night with Joanie by having some pizza at a place near her apartment. It was rather tasteless. Pete and I had to heap on the oregano and garlic to make it taste like something other than bland cardboard. I think we were too far west. Something happens to pizza when people try to make it anywhere outside of New York City and New Jersey. Once you cross the Delaware River and get into Pennsyltucky, forget it. You will never have good pizza.

And there ya have it! Nothing but pure excitement, huh?

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THIS ARTICLE IS FOR THE BIRDS

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

“HEY! You’re stealing all my birds!”

So said the neighbor (who was kind enough to push my car out of the snow) when he saw me filling the bird feeders this morning.

Upon moving into our new place, we found an old bird feeder laying in the yard, half buried in the snow. I brought it into the house, “thawed it out,” and cleaned it up. I bought a bag of birdseed, filled it up, and set it on the railing of our small back porch. It is just outside of the door where we can watch the birds easily.

It is amazing how quickly the birdseed disappears! That feeder has been empty each day when we come home. We are wondering how early in the day it is actually all gone. The birds must be spreading the word, bringing all of their friends around for lunch at our place. Looks like we are feeding the whole neighborhood now! There is a increasing number of bird tracks daily in the snow. In order to keep up with the demand, we bought another feeder and a suet block. Both of these are now hanging in a tree in the back yard.

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While unpacking, I found my book on birds of the eastern United States published by the Audubon Society. It’s a nice book with tons of photos. It’s very helpful when attempting to identify birds. Now we are keeping this book handy. It is becoming common to see us peaking out the back door, whispering, while passing the Audubon book back and forth.

I inherited my bird watching tendency from my mom and my grandmother. When I was young, they both often pointed out different birds. They both seemed to appreciate the abundant variety of birds, with all of their different sizes, colors, characteristics. As a kid, I learned to appreciate these things too. My grandmother lived in the country. There were birds everywhere. I had a bird book back then too, a small one with photos of birds for the northeast area of the States. I was eager and determined to spot every bird in that book.

Several years ago, an interesting thing happened to me in relation to a bird. It was shortly after my wife and I split up. I was driving the “Blue Bomb” home from work one day. I was very depressed. There was a scene playing over and over in my head in which I imagined my wife with a different man, happier than ever. At that time it was a tormenting thought. It was a hot day in the summer of 1997. I was driving down the highway, deep within my imaginations, when I saw something coming straight for my open driver’s side window. It was coming down out of the clear blue sky – not flying across the road or down from a tree. Suddenly I realized it was a bird and it smashed with a sickening sound into the frame of the car window just behind my head. It was a sparrow. It left blood and feathers stuck to the car. Immediately, I remembered something that Jesus said:

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father. But the very hairs of your head are numbered. Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows.” (Matthew 10:29 – 31)

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It was almost as if God threw that sparrow right out of the sky and nearly hit me in the head to wake me up! It sure changed my perspective on the situation. I am not one to advocate mysterious signs from God. But this incident was a little out of the ordinary. Any other bird would not have had the same effect. A sparrow simply standing along the side of the road waving at me would not have done it. This one came hurling out of the sky and reminded me that there was something, Someone, bigger than the issue tormenting my mind. I saved a few of the feathers from that sparrow.

Well… So far we have spotted several different birds at our feeders. There have been many sparrows, mourning doves, starlings, blue jays, finches. This morning I was able to get a picture of a downy woodpecker on the suet block. I learned from our book that it was a female because it was lacking a red spot on its head. Another frequent visitor is a bird that I at first mistakenly thought was an oversized chickadee. After consulting the Audubon book, I found out that it is actually a dark-eyed junko. These seem to be the most abundant of the birds right now. I got a nice picture of one just outside our door this morning.

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Actually, I think the neighbor is happy that all the birds are coming to us. He mumbled something about how filling the feeders every day is a pain. We don’t mind (yet). There is something about bird watching that echoes with a primal desire for discovery within us. I am happy to see that my kids share this now. T said we should get more feeders. It is refreshing to see him interested in something like this and excited to learn. This is a good thing. When I see the sparrows at the feeder, I remember good things like these. I smile and I think, “God has brought me a long way since the days of the Blue Bomb! I shall fear not!”

LAST NIGHT, WE HUNG PICASSO

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

THE NEW PLACE is starting to shape up and take on the characteristics of a home finally. The washer and dryer are in, curtains are up, and a few decorations are on the walls. It is slowly but surely becoming “our” place.

My good friend Laura, a displaced Jersey girl living in Virginia, generously gave us the washer and dryer, as well as a sofa bed and love seat, along with several other things. She was even kind enough to drive T and me from New Jersey to Virginia this past Saturday after visiting her family. It is rather humorous to see this girl, with her New Jersey accent and attitude, mingling among the Southerners in Virginia. That dang Yankee! So generous that I bet she’d give up a kidney or two for a friend in need.

T and I rented a small U-haul truck to bring our newly acquired laundry equipment and living room furniture back to New Jersey. It was a beast of a vehicle! The doors did not seal very well when closed. The faster I drove, the louder the sound of the wind coming through the edges of the door. It nearly drove us nuts. Plus, part of the storage area of the truck extended over the top of the cab. We both hit out heads several times getting in and out of the truck. The first indication that the truck was a jalopy was the strong oil fumes that came through the heat ducts when we turned the heat on. The second was the old oatmeal cream cookie T found in the glove compartment. Ewwww. I was so tired and still not over a nasty cold that I pretty much went straight to bed when we got back home at 9:30 on Saturday night. We unloaded the truck on Sunday afternoon after one of T’s friends came over.

I hooked up the washer and discovered that the valves on the water lines for the washer hook ups leak. Hooking up the gas line for the dryer required a run to Home Depot for new channel locks since mine are who knows where. It sure was nice to do laundry in my own home again. I didn’t do laundry for seven years! Not in my own home at least.

After dropping the truck off on Sunday, we picked up J. He came over and cleared out most of the things that were piled in the living room, putting most of it in the attic. What a tremendous difference that made! I then made a last minute trip to Wal-Mart before they closed and bought curtains for that room and the dining room. When T saw it he said, “Wow! It actually looks like a ‘living room’ now instead of a storage unit!”

We placed our table in one of the corners of the dining room near the windows. The chairs have a light green color on the cushions. I bought curtains to match. This corner is bright and colorful. It has some culture to it. It is in that corner that we hung Matisse and Picasso prints, along with a black and white photo of Picasso. In addition, on the oversized windowsill we placed two large art books. One is on Matisse and Picasso from the Museum of Modern Art in New York. The other is a book on M. C. Escher. I was happy to see T and his friends flipping through these books.

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There is a good atmosphere of creativity in our home. In addition to some of the artwork now on the walls, there is a lot of musical activity going on. T and his friends have been learning to play guitar, making up songs and learning some of their favorite songs from other bands. One of his friends brought an eight track digital recorder over. One day while I was practicing, they tried to sneak into my room to record me. I stopped and said, “Uh… why are you crawling into my room and what are you holding out in front of you?” It was a microphone. We then hung the mic from the ceiling light. I proceeded to play while the boys experimented with the effects on the recorder until they got it sounding pretty good. A few people have stopped by to see the house for the first time lately. As they stare at the long black cord wrapped around the light with a puzzled look, I have to explain that we are currently living in a recording studio. Last night, the boys set up a more permanent arrangement for the recording equipment in T’s room. From there we can run mic cables down the hallway to the other bedrooms for recording purposes.

As a father/musician, what more could I ask for? I know where my son is. His friends know that they are welcome in our house. They have even shown their appreciation by making dinner one night. Last night they baked cookies. They helped us move and arrange things in the house. They have let us borrow tools. They have given us rides. I have provided dinners and a decent place to “hang out.” I have listened to some of their musical endeavors, pointed out what I thought was very good and offered some suggestions to stretch their creativity. This is all good. This is home as I want it to be.

“I AM AN ARTISTE” (Interview Responses – Part 4)

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

RECENTLY I completed an interview for an online forum that I participate in. I decided to post my responses to four out of the five interview questions on my site as well. This is the fourth of four journal entries based on these questions.

QUESTION 4. You do a lot of photography and reading and have recently gotten back into playing the drums. Are there any other hobbies you’ve pursued in the past and abandoned or any you’re considering adding to your roster of activities? What do you like best about these pursuits?

My personality leans heavily towards the creative side. My mom always encouraged this and is very creative herself. By the age of 3 or 4, I was banging on her pots and pans and making music. Reading was always encouraged at home as well. As soon as I could read, my mom was supplying books. I’ve dabbled in various crafts over the years: drawing, painting, wood burning, scrimshaw, calligraphy, crotchet, model rocketry. Some of them I suck at. Some of them I’m good at. I just don’t have time for all of them.

As you said, I recently got back into playing the drums. Formerly, I played from the age of 10 or 11 until I was into my 20s. I set it aside for a while in order to devote myself to my kids mainly. Selling my old drum set just killed me. I missed it. Once, I went to a music store, bought a new pair of sticks and said, “One day I will play again.” Last May, 18 years after I stopped playing, I bought a new set and started to polish my skills again. There were a lot of years to make up for! After several months of practice, I auditioned for a few bands and started playing with one in November 2003. We recently spent some time in a studio to record a demo cd. So, after 18 years, I went at it with a vengeance. I’m having a blast with it.

During those years of not playing drums, I taught myself to play guitar to some extent (I play guitar like a drummer. It’s all rhythm!). I spent some time writing songs and singing/playing on my own. This kind of fell to the side after my second divorce. After joining the band, I’ve had a renewed desire to pick up my guitar again and write songs. A good friend and I have been talking about writing some songs together that would be performed in an acoustic folk sort of way. It will be the opposite of the ear-splitting, in-your-face rock-n-roll that I am playing with the band. This is one activity that I am eager to add to the roster.

What I like best about these pursuits is that they somehow make me feel more complete as a person. They feel like an extension of who I am. When I sat down at the drum set for the first time after all those years, I was ME again. Something came to life again. It’s the same thing with writing. It is who I am. I don’t know how not to write. I’ve been told that I write well. But I feel like I don’t care all that much. I have to write. If I didn’t write I wouldn’t be me and my head would explode from having no outlet for all these crazy ideas. Same for photography. It’s an extension of who I am and how I look at things around me. It all feels quite natural. There is enjoyment in sharing these things with others. There is some enjoyment in being recognized in some of these things. It feels good to have one’s ego stroked now and then. But ultimately the thing I enjoy the most is that feeling that I am more myself when I do these things and to neglect them is to diminish myself as a person. I could play my drums for hours and hours all by myself for the sheer pleasure of playing. But do applaud if you happen to be standing outside listening!

THE END

“COME AND SEE THE SHOW!” (Interview Responses – Part 3)

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

RECENTLY I completed an interview for an online forum that I participate in. I decided to post my responses to four out of the five interview questions on my site as well. This is the third of four journal entries based on these questions.

QUESTION 3. You’ve got more kids than most people I know and have been a single parent to some of them during parts of their lives. What are some of the highs and lows you’ve had along the way being a dad? Are you one big happy family when everyone is together? Do the kids know you journal online?

The lowest of the lows for me is that I am running this circus on my own. I work. I fix the car. I shovel the snow. I lift the heavy objects and open the lids on jars. I also change the diapers, sew the holes in the clothes, put the Band-Aids on, pick out the curtains, arrange the flowers. When I was married I did many of those things anyway. I never thought, “You wash the dishes. That’s a woman’s job. I’m gonna go pull the transmission outta my Dodge Ram.” The point is that, as a single dad, I don’t have the choice to not do some things because there is no one else to do it if I don’t.

There are things I’ve had to do that a woman would have done a much better job at, especially when it comes to caring for little girls. The hair is the hard part! A little girl can’t go to school every day with all of her hair pulled back over her head into one big pony tail because that is all dad can manage. I’ve had to adapt. I can braid and do some semi-fancy hair tricks now. I’ve also gone from not seeing much of a need for curtains if you have shades, to having an eye for curtains that actually compliment the living room furniture. I think I’ve also gained a type of “motherly” gentleness in relating to my kids. They know that they can come to me for comfort and understanding. I never had that with my dad when I was a kid.

At this point, when my three oldest children are all teenagers who have had a fairly rough life because of their mother’s alcoholism, a very big high for me is to hear compliments about my kids from other people. To hear how responsible my 17-year-old daughter is in school and at work gives me satisfaction. To hear how good-natured my 16-year-old son is and how he often steps in to make peace among his peers rather than promoting or simply ignoring strife and potential violence, makes me proud. All of my kids are well behaved. I could brag about them forever. Sure, they have had their “moments” and have gotten into some petty trouble in school and whatnot. But overall they are turning out to be good people, sincere people, and people who realize that life is often difficult and you have to be flexible and persistent if you want to survive.

Another high is that we love to have fun. We are a crazy bunch! We blow the horn and wave to people as we are driving just to see if they wave back. We play football with rolls of Scott toilet paper in the store. We put music on at home and dance like various animals. We laugh like idiots while watching stupid movies. We are all rather witty and can find something to laugh at in almost any situation. I have to admit that I sort of provoke it all most of the time. I have to set an example as a dad. Right? I figure that if we don’t have a sense of humor, the difficulties in our circumstances will overwhelm us.

So I think I answered the one part of that question. Yes, we are one big happy family when we are together. My youngest daughters live with my second wife in Georgia now. That is a world away from New Jersey. That situation is a tremendous low for all of us. Yet, when the girls come here, the bond between everyone is very strong. They were only 1 and 3 when we separated. They lived in West Virginia at the time and I made that 400-mile trip 20 times in 1997 to insure that there would be a bond between all of the children. Now I see the fruit of that effort. I would drive the miles, and cry the tears, and experience the broken-heartedness again and again if I had to. Bonds of love that are not weakened by hundreds of miles of separation are sweet fruit.

The kids know that I journal online. They get a kick out of it. They know that I write about them. They know I might tell some semi-embarrassing stories involving them and sometimes post some unflattering photos. But they know I will never betray them. I often talk with them about things that I write and about reactions that I receive from readers. They understand that writing and photography are passions for me. They know when I have something stewing in my brain and I’m a little distracted. They are used to having me suddenly pull the car over to the side of the road and jumping out with my camera to catch something that caught my eye. Creativity is part of my life. I am open with the kids about my endeavors and ideas so that they will develop their own creativity as well. My website is one main medium in which I express my creativity. They have always known about it and have been encouraged to pursue their own projects because of it.

PART 4 TOMORROW!