CONTINUUM… THIRD ANNIVERSARY ENTRY

carDownRoadThatLooksLikeMine

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

IT WAS THREE YEARS AGO today that I posted my first entry, “Snow and Chinese Food,” on this website. Since then there have been 77 additional entries added, including this one, consisting of nearly 83,000 words. So many words and I haven’t told you nearly as much as I intended to when I first set out on this little adventure. What have you read here regarding my first marriage, or my work as a milk pasteurizer for 13 years, or my son’s learning disabilities, or my experiences in the federal witness protection program? Not much. Possibly in the future I will write about those things.

In addition to the journal entries, there have been 60 photo galleries posted on this site, several of them in multiple parts. There are over 1400 photos. Not too shabby.

It is amazing how much changes over the course of three years. People come and go. Circumstances change. Fortune fluctuates. Hopefully, this has been reflected in the writings on this website. I chose the accompanying photo because it represents “progression.” Life is going somewhere. It is not stagnant. Even if you determine to sit still and keep everything just the way it is, it still changes. It continues on and brings you with it whether you like it or not. When you resist life’s changes, life sort of grabs you by the hair and drags you along in a primal way. It’s better to cooperate a little, learn some things, gain some wisdom.

My writings are often my reflections upon what life has handed me. They are partly memoir, partly introspection, often intimately revealing, always sincere. All with a dash of humor to help it go down easier. They are about me. Yet, I try to write in a way that touches others in fundamental ways. Sometimes I write about past experiences and feel the emotions of those times while I am writing. I try to capture this and blend it into my writings. When I receive emails saying, “That made me cry,” or “I laughed so hard my drink came out of my nose,” or “Are you okay?” I know that the emotion was in the writing.

Online journaling has been an interesting experience. I have connected with people in various parts of the world. With a few of them I now have very good long distance friendships. Some people stumble upon the site while they are surfing around. Some find it through links on other journals. Some find it while they are searching for the strangest things on Google or Yahoo. Some people read a little and never come back. Some stick around and even sign up for the notify list. Some tell me they feel that they have known me for a long time once they read some of the articles. A few have even said that they came across the site and read something that was just what they needed to hear at that time.

There have been a few strange incidents in relation to the website. After I posted some crazy stuff about roasting ponies, someone sent me an email and ripped me apart. I was told that it was people like me who keep the world as messed up as it is. I was called heartless and cruel. It turned out that the person who wrote to me was a 14 year-old girl in Denmark. Another oddity was when an ex-girlfriend contacted me through the website using a fake name. I always make it a point to respond to people who write to me. Usually those interactions go well. But this particular girl has a tendency to be spiteful and rather sharp in her comments. Eventually this gave her away and I figured out who it was. Rather weird and very annoying.

I suppose that a person puts themselves in a vulnerable position, susceptible to being approached by the weird and annoying, when they write an online journal. The essence of journaling is expressing personal experiences and personal reflections on those experiences. An online journaler may also write about subjects other than themselves (politics, places, events, etc.). But even this will be personal observations and points of view. Overall, a journal is personal in nature. This type of writing always exposes a writer to those who will criticize, those who will assume, those who will misunderstand, even those who will attack.

So be it.

I believe that the online journaling phenomena has added something of great value to the internet. It has brought an element of humanity to this technological wonder. There are plenty of websites offering commercialism, pornography, facts, figures, etc. Through their websites, the writers of online journals offer themselves. They open the door a little and allow others into their lives. Sometimes I think that as technology advances, we become more isolated. The technology is convenient. But it has also replaced real human interaction to some degree. Online journals help to counteract that. They are expressions of colors in the grayness of cyberspace. They are beds of flowers planted among the bits and bytes of web servers all over the world. They are inns of hospitality along the information highway.

Okay… so my online journal is not so much like an inn of hospitality and more like a nut house. But come on in anyway! Kick off your shoes! Let down your hair! Join the insanity!

Seriously… thank you all for reading my site. I appreciate it.

THE DRUMMER’S STORY: CONCLUSION

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(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

IN AUGUST OF 1983 I was married for the first time. In April 1984 my first son was born. April 1985 found me unemployed. I sold my drum set for $700. I regretted it for the next 18 years.

While in high school, I not only played in all the bands that the school had to offer, I also played in bands outside of school. For some of us, music was a passion. We played every chance we got. We played for school dances. We entered the “battle of the bands” whenever we could. We played school talent shows and whatever gigs we could get anywhere else.

I was in my freshman year of high school when I was asked to play with my first rock band. It felt odd to me because all of the other guys in the band were well known athletes in school. I was just a drummer. I had no other claim to fame. I did join the chess club once, for about five minutes. But something told me it was not going to be a very good way to get girls. You know what I mean? So I joined this band with three jocks. We sucked. We played some Creedence Clearwater Revival, Styx, The Beatles. We sucked. Included in the suckiness was myself and a guitarist by the name of Greg Howe.

The jock band did not last very long. Soon after, I hooked up with my friend Glenn Vasko and a bass player by the name of Jeff Young. Then we played ZZ Top, Pink Floyd, Emerson Lake and Palmer, Molly Hatchet, and more. By our junior year of high school we were joined by several other guys, including Greg Howe. By this time Greg was phenomenal! It was an amazing what two years could do! He played “The Clap” by Yes before the whole high school that year and blew us all away. Greg is a successful guitarist to this day.

Once we played for someone’s cousin’s birthday party or something like that. Most of us in the band didn’t really know what the event was at which we were playing. It was held at a VFW hall in Great Meadows, NJ. We got there early and hung out at a small diner nearby. Like all true rock and rollers, we trashed the place. Well… Okay… Not really. But we did write our names on the table with the ketchup. And we did smoke cigarettes. So that kind of counts. When people arrived for this party and were somewhat dressed up, we were a little confused as to what was really going on. When they asked us not to play so loudly, we knew the whole affair was not going to be much fun. It wasn’t. We were barely tolerated.

Top (L to R): Jeff Young, Greg Howe, Chris Swanson, Sam Snyder, Glenn Vasko, Craig Negoescu. Bottom (L to R): Sam Snyder, Greg Howe.
Top (L to R): Jeff Young, Greg Howe, Chris Swanson, Sam Snyder, Glenn Vasko, Craig Negoescu. Bottom (L to R): Sam Snyder, Greg Howe.

We also formed a “super group” in our junior year of high school and entered a battle of the bands at another high school close by. We had Greg Howe and Glenn Vasko on guitar, Jeff Young on bass, Craig Negoescue on keyboards, Chris Swanson and Arnie Howe on vocals, and myself on drums. It was a great time. It got a little weird though when Chris Swanson stood on a chair while singing and started to take off his pants. Much to everyone’s relief, he had a pair of gym shorts on underneath. We came close to winning the competition but lost to a band who played mainly loud, raunchy AC/DC songs. Nothing wrong with that. We found out later that they were actually a band that had been playing in bars for some time and had more experience, something that was actually against the rule of the battle. Oh well.

By our senior year, Glenn and I had become Christians. We came to know Kevin Gallagher, who played guitar, and Rich Demeter, who played bass. So the four of us got together and started writing songs. Kevin seemed to be an endless source of guitar riffs. He came up with music for a catchy sounding song. Rich and I wrote the lyrics. It was titled “My Friend.” It was about the issues that most teenagers face, the confusion, the peer pressure, the anxiety about the future, the drugs and illicit sex, and how Jesus understood it all and could help. I remember that we wrote the words on a paper grocery bag late one night. We played the song for the entire high school at a talent show. It was a great feeling to perform our own original song.

After high school, Kevin and I played together in a Christian band called Illumination. We played quite a few places in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. We had some good shows and some fun times. A rather strange show that we played took place in the center of a circle in Easton, PA. The drums were set up on a riser right next to the street. Looking over my shoulder as I played I could watch the cars drive past me. If I would have fallen off… well… You wouldn’t be reading this right now, would you?

So, I was 22 years old when I stopped playing drums. It was partly because I was unemployed and had no money. It was also due to the fact that I was going through a time of questioning what my life should really be about. I felt that there may be a higher purpose for my life. Maybe rock and roll was preventing me from fulfilling some “calling” on my life. I seriously considered going into the ministry at that point. So, in a way, selling my drums and stepping away from it all was a way to find out if there was something else I should be focusing on.

I never did enter the ministry. I never did receive some “revelation” of a higher calling. But I did come to realize that there were many high purposes for my life. Many painful experiences showed me this. It took time, much time. I went down paths that I never ever thought I would. Many who I trusted failed me. Some of the deepest desires and dreams that I had were denied. At 22, I was planning on cutting a straight and upward path through life. Since then I have walked winding trails through deep valleys and over high mountains, along fearful cliffs and through deep cutting thorns, in the sunlight and in the darkness of night. Life has not been at all the way I thought it would be. Thank God.

Now, after 18 years, the path has turned again. Once, probably 15 years ago, when I was a single father raising three toddlers, I bought a pair of drum sticks and said, “One day…” This year that day finally came and I bought a new drum set. I had waited for 18 years. A few times during those years I sat down at other peoples’ drum sets and played a little. It was always too emotional and I never played for long. What a feeling it was to bring home a drum set of my own again! The desire to play had never left me, neither did the talent. The 18 years proved to be a detour and not a final destination.

In May of this year I began to practice and perfect my skills again. In October I began auditioning for bands. By the beginning of November I found a group of guys that I felt I could work with and fit in with. (Yeah, that’s them in the photo. Pretty ugly, huh?) In a six month period I went from not playing for 18 years to being part of a band making original music with an invitation to add my own creativity to the mix. In just a few days from now, we will be going into the studio to record close to a dozen songs for a demo CD. And the band is called? Well, you know those little lawn gnomes that people have in their yards? That’s right, the ones you just feel like running over with your car and leaving in your dust. (Admit it! You do have those aggressive anti-gnome tendencies like the rest of us!) We are “Gnome Dust.” It won’t mess you up like angel dust. And it won’t make you fly like pixie dust. It might make you bang your head a little and leave your ears ringing for a while. But that’s about it.

So that’s the story. That’s where I am at. This entry says it’s a “conclusion.” But it’s not. It’s really a new beginning. I am looking forward to so much more to come. 18 years is a long time to wait for something. Now it means so much more each time I pick up a pair of sticks. Drumming is something I was born to do. It is something that I am privileged to do again at this time in my life. Each time that I play, whether in practice or in performance, my entire being will be poured out in the effort. What I do, I do with my whole heart. For who knows when the path may turn again.

MR. WINKY’S HOLIDAY PAJAMA PARTY

20031227pete

(Originally posted on the website Continuum…)

LET ME TELL YOU about my Christmas. It’s a story which includes the typical, the odd, and the utterly bizarre.

The day started with breakfast with my Dad. For the last several years we have been having Christmas breakfast with him and my stepmother at William’s Restaurant in Palmer Township, just outside of Easton, PA. Nothing special there. Just your typical diner. We were a little disappointed this year that they did not have the breakfast buffet. Instead, most of us went for the menu selection called “The William’s FEAST.” Two eggs, two pancakes, home fries, bacon or sausage, coffee and orange juice. It was just your typical diner with typical service and my father’s typical impatience with the waitress. Well, she was your typical incompetent. But then again… it was Christmas.

In the afternoon I took my older kids to see their grandparents. I mean their mother’s parents. That’s right. My ex-in-laws. We went without their mother. My ex. Relations are not very good there. So, even though it is a bit odd, I took the children to see their grandparents on Christmas Day. It wasn’t the first time I’ve done this. One year the ex went too. As odd as it is, I prefer it without her. This year I had the opportunity to have a Christmas meal there. After the breakfast “FEAST” there was not much room in my belly for another meal. However, with enough concentration, will power, and a hint of gluttony, I was able to pack away quite a bit of ham, mashed potatoes, green beans with cream sauce, buttered rolls, shrimp. The giant piece of cheesecake was just too much though. That had to be taken home for later. The kids had a nice time opening presents. Then we were on the road again, headed for yet another meal!

We were invited to Pete and Ruth’s house for Christmas dinner. This is something I was looking forward to very much. These are two of my favorite people in the whole world. Two people who have opened their door and their hearts to me. Two people who accept me as I am and even seem to enjoy it. They are great cooks too! Pete was so excited about receiving new pajamas and a pair of “squishy” slippers that he wanted everyone to come in pajamas. Uh… I didn’t think so.

Both the aroma of good food and the warmth of happy guests welcomed us as we entered Pete and Ruth’s home. The smiling faces in the living room belonged to several relatives and friends. There was an aunt known affectionately as “Sis,” a cousin, a really nice girl named Ivy (who I teased a little too much and now sort of hates me – I’m sorry Ivy. Really.), Joanie (“the little blonde girl from Cell Block A”), and my good friend Greg (who’s name morphed from Craig to Crec to Grec to Cedric and eventually to Clerk throughout the night). For dinner we had an awesome venison roast, fresh green beans, a delicious salad and “dirty potatoes.” And of course Pete’s world famous homemade wine was on hand.

There was plenty of laughter that night. There were video games involving lots of wild driving. There was great music, even a time of acoustic guitar playing. There was the continuous “Cedric/Clerk” jokes at the expense of the always good natured Greg Hartline. Eventually the company thinned out until there were only Pete, Ruth, Cedric, Joanie (“the little blonde girl from Cell Block A”), and myself left. At that point a joke battle between Pete and Clerk ensued. All I can say is that Pete’s wine makes pretty much any joke in the world funny as all get out! Even the ones that had something to do with elephants and plums and the other one about “How do you catch a unique rabbit?” “Unique up on him!” They were funny to the point that I had to run out to my car to get my inhaler before I died laughing.

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Another bizarre highlight of the evening was the posing of Mr. Potato Head in various lewd and compromising scenes. It is true that “bad company corrupts good morals.” Soon, even Mr. Hedgehog and Mr. Pheasant were indulging in scandalous behavior. Even Joanie, “that infamous hardened criminal from Cell Block A,” just shook her head at the scene taking place. What was that you said? She was wagging her head at the infantile behavior of three grown men? Nah!!!! Go check out the photo gallery (link below) and you will see just how out of control that Tater was!

After it had gotten pretty late, the only ones left standing were Pete, Joanie, and myself. Alright, I think Joanie and I were not really in standing condition. We were more like a slouch kind of thing. It was great fun though! I had not laughed so much in one night in a long time. I had no idea that the girls from Cell Block A were so cute! And funny! She said she couldn’t wait to see what I wrote about the night and wanted me to relate the Cell Block A story. But really, it is sooooo much funnier coming from her. She tells a great story. She can’t repeat a tongue twister very well after a few beers, but she will have to tell you her story herself. “One smart feller he felt smart. Two smart fellers they felt smart. Three smart fellers they felt smart.” (Go ahead. Try that as fast as you can and see what comes out of your mouth!) Pete had us trying to say that and another one, something about “split sheets.” That didn’t come out right when I tried to say it. You can just imagine.

Somewhere around 4 AM we lost “the little blonde girl from Cell Block A.” Pete and I continued a heart to heart conversation until 5:30. Maybe it isn’t the most considerate thing to do to hang around a friend’s house all night long. I know that it encouraged me though. Pete is one person that I know I can be completely honest and open with. I know I can lay my heart on the table and Pete won’t judge me nor condemn me. I know he cares about my well being and will be straight with me. A friend like that is more valuable than all the treasures in the world. Forget the gold, frankincense and myrrh. Just give me friends like Pete and Ruth.

CORRESPONDING PICTURE GALLERY: