TOMMY

14468320_10209331589319060_179748171029821559_o-copy

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

Once upon a time, in a lifetime faraway, my grandfather owned a diner. From the days of my earliest memories, Pop ran the diner. He rose at 4:30 every morning, without an alarm clock. He started the grills, warmed up the dishwasher, and welcomed the first customers at 6 AM. This was who he was. He made up for it with a daily nap in his downstairs office most afternoons.

I remember the office. It consisted of two small rooms and a smaller bath, or rather a “shower”. One room housed a desk with tumbling piles of receipts. The other, dimly lit, surrounded a double-sized foam mattress. Noxzema shaving cream and Close-Up toothpaste vied for predominance of the shower. It was only in dire cases that we dared tap on the office door to wake Pop in the middle of an afternoon.

My grandfather was a good man. He gave many people their first chance at a job. In addition to almost all of his grandchildren, Pop gave first jobs to many high school students in our town, one of whom was an old girlfriend of mine… story for another time. Beyond these many first starts, Pop was the helper of many a down and out fellow. From my farthest memories, Pop consistently hired men from a restaurant staffing agency out of Philadelphia. Most of these short-order cooks are now nameless faces, greasy-haired individuals apparently without house or family, soulless men of my childhood, smokers and drinkers all.

In addition to Freddie Schneider, flat-nosed out-of-towner who by miraculous length of days and despite steady streams of imbibed alcohol and cigarettes became a long-recognized pilgrim between the St. Cloud Hotel and the diner, there was five-foot-tall Tommy. Tommy was short but his heart stood tall. Tommy loved the bottled spirits. But he also loved our family. There were days when the bottle got the best of him. He would disappear for short seasons. Then I would come to the diner after school and Tommy would be back. Pop never condemned him. Tommy always returned loyalty and respect.

Tommy was the head evening cook during most of my high school days. I was the cashier and night “manager”, sixteen-year-old ruler of my female classmates who were fortunate enough to be hired by my grandfather… more stories for another time. When Tommy would vanish on one of his binges, I was the head cook, happy to exchange the handling of currency for the flipping of burgers.

Tommy had a woman. She was the widowed mother of one of the girls in my class. For easily deduced reasons, we mercilessly teased that girl with horrid renditions of “Hello Dolly”. She never saw the humor in it. Her mom was oblivious to her daughter’s hardships. Tommy loved her mom. Though I thought it was corny to see that short short-order cook nearly stand on his tippy-toes in order to put his arm around his girl, I now remember it as the act of a big man, and I realize that that’s as tall as a man gets. I still look up to Tommy in this respect.

As once-upon-a-time stories go, villains entered the plot, placid characters were disrupted and reality entered the scene. So it went with the story of Pop’s diner. One month after my high school graduation in June of 1981, Pop announced his retirement. The man was 81-years-old. He had served family and employees well. By the end of that summer, new owners had taken control of the diner, trampling freshly-painted stairs and unprepared hearts alike underfoot. I remember the non-English speaking chef plunging his nicotine-stained hands into bowls of macaroni salad. I remember the feelings of violation as Pop’s ways of procedure were carelessly neglected. I remember quitting my job at “my grandfather’s diner” and not being paid overtime by the new owner. I remember saying good-bye to Tommy.

As the world has a tendency to rotate and life has the impulse to move on, I worked at successive factories and then for the town road department after Pop laid the diner to rest. It was all new to me. I had only ever worked at our family business since I was 14. My early twenties was a time of blending into the background of our town’s economy. Once I was known as the grandson of the town’s best diner. Then I was just another blue-uniformed town road worker.

However, if the world has a tendency to rotate, it also has a tendency to come full circle. A moment of definition came one afternoon while I was standing outside the town garages. That day, under the hot summer sun, a small figure staggered across the parking lot through the heat waves. Stopping unexpectedly before me, there swayed Tommy. Most likely by the assistance of angels, the man was able to focus his eyes enough to recognize me. He stepped closer, managing to stop himself from tripping headlong into my chest. Gathering his intrinsic respect and sincerity, Tommy reached up and placed his hand on my shoulder. In that moment I was again Pop’s grandson. Tommy, setting the influence of alcohol aside, said, “Sammy, it’s me, Tommy. Remember me? It’s Tommy. Sammy, you’re grandfather was a good man. You are a good man, Sammy. I love you, Sammy.” Then the little man collapsed in my arms and I wish that I was still holding him these twenty years long. Tommy died suddenly from a brain tumor a few months later.

So, I ask myself, “Is this the way life goes?” Does a man live, despite his weaknesses of habit, to eventually make another man big by falling into his arms? Was the purpose of Tommy’s life to give stability to mine? Did he stagger into my arms to set my life in the right direction?

All I can say is, “Tommy, too early taken at the age of 50, I miss you. I love you too. My life was enlarged because of you. Thank you.”

Those Crazy Stickers

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

20060608bumperstickers

“Oh, Dude! Is that YOU with all those crazy stickers??”

Well… actually it’s not me. It’s my car.

So, what stickers do we (my car and I) have?

Here’s the list:


  • Virginia is for Lovers
  • 5 Bouncing Souls stickers (how the sticker craziness originally began)
  • mot gilk?
  • D W drums
  • World Inferno Friendship Society
  • Toastmasters International
  • Free Tibet
  • Dino Velvet (my brother’s old band – as opposed to HIS NEW BAND)
  • New Hampshire Moose Crossing
  • Apple logo
  • Kill Your Television (need a reason to kill your TV? click HERE.)
  • Read Banned Books (they are better for your brain than TV.)
  • Underdog and Sweet Polly
  • The Pink Panther
  • Large Band-Aid on the dent on the bumper
  • Smiley face (because the Band-Aid made it all better)
  • a Harley Davidson sticker
  • This Car Climbed Mt. Washington (for real, yo!)
  • a faded Van’s sneakers sticker
  • American flag (upside down)
  • Canadian flag (upside down)
  • Long Beach Island (upside down)
  • New Hampshire (upside down)
  • Cape May (upside down) (not pictured. this photo was taken in Cape May before I bought the sticker.)
  • Earth (right side up)
  • and most importantly… 01.20.09… George W. Bush’s last day in office. Lord haste the day!
  • P.S. – Vote for Pedro

Remodalation

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

20060605remodalation

There are those who are pushing to make English the official language of the United States. There are even some who want to force immigrants to learn and speak English in order to become citizens.

There are signs that it’s not going to work.

CaMEL GIBSON

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

"What to Expect When You Visit Our House"
“What to Expect When You Visit Our House”

The camel’s name is “Gibson”, as in caMEL GIBSON. Get it?

WARNING! DO NOT FEED THE GIRAFFE!

Her bite is worse than her bark. Believe me!

I Forgot to Warn You

(Originally posted on the website Heron Flight)

A Wonka-ish email exchange with a co-worker concerning the “Toe Jam” picture (Click here if you really want to see it.)…

samsnyder@BIGcorporation.com: I forgot to warn you about the ugly foot picture.

co-worker@BIGcorporation.com: You are a little late…I’m vomiting over here in my garbage can!

samsnyder@BIGcorporation.com: what? don’t like mulberries?

co-worker@BIGcorporation.com: Looks more like a shnozberry to me!

samsnyder@BIGcorporation.com: THAT’s funny! Ha! I’m picturing that girl in the [Wonka] movie licking my toe!

co-worker@BIGcorporation.com: EEEEEEW!

samsnyder@BIGcorporation.com: If I ever jam my nose that bad I’ll have to write about it being a SHNOZberry.

co-worker@BIGcorporation.com: That would be interesting…how would you jam your nose?

samsnyder@BIGcorporation.com: I think drinking would have to be involved.

co-worker@BIGcorporation.com: Sounds like you are drinking already… [go] read your last e-mail…

samsnyder@BIGcorporation.com: Shounds like WHOsh dwinking alweady?