Second of August

A month has passed quicker than the blink of an eye. My vacation is over and it's back to work on Monday. And all I can do is listen to the distant echoes of voices from the past.

First of July

It is morning.
7:30 am.
The house is still.
My wife has left for work.
My son sleeps peacefully on the sofa,
worn out from a night of video-games
and cartoon shows.
The dog lies sleeping in his dog bed.
The cat sits at the threshold of the back door
and watches the chirping birds.
The only other noise
is the hum of the large air conditioner
in the kitchen window.
The only movement,
a drifting foil balloon
that reads "Happy Birthday".
The stand fan blows a soft breeze
benefiting no one except the artificial plant.
I need to make my lunch and head to work.
Instead, this is the time I choose to write.
Something in me decided I needed to capture this moment,
not on film or with a camera,
but with words.

Friday the 13th

The nineties came and I stopped blogging because it was too hot. Today was in the 80°s so it wasn't too bad. I went uptown with Woody during my lunch hour. He bought a pair of sneakers in Chinatown. They were "ED" brand (go figure). Every box said size 12 but the Chinese woman told him to ignore that and just try them on. $15. Woody loved them so much he didn't even try to get the price down. I think he could have gotten them for $10. Then it was on to Dunkin Donuts for them to screw up my order once again. What's so hard about making a chocolate iced coffee? Here's a hint, just give me mocha and tell me it's chocolate. I won't even be able to tell the difference. Woody also bought a phone cover off a cart at Downtown Crossing. The vendor was being tended to by the police for some heart problems and an ambulance was arriving to take him to the hospital. Luckily for Woody the vendor from the next cart stepped in to finish the sale. And it's a good thing Woody knows how to operate a lottery machine as he had to go behind the counter in the Chinatown store to punch in a QuikPik for me for the daily number. The woman behind the counter was no help. I lost anyway. Thanks Woody. And tomorrow is Friday the 13th. I feel some good luck coming my way.

The Nineties

The nineties are coming – temperatures in the nineties that is! All year long we can't wait for summer to get here, and when it does we find a way to complain about it. Let's just enjoy it while it's here. Now excuse me while I go lug the air conditioners around and spent my day trying to cool the house off. You never know, though, the weathermen have been wrong before.

MTV Movie Awards

The MTV Movie Awards are broadcast so us forty-somethings can realize how out of touch we are with the current pop scene. But there's one thing the powers that be didn't count on: our generation is not getting older. Unlike the ex-hippies, the disco generation is still in the forefront of popular culture. We are healthier and more in touch than our parents could ever hope to be at our age. And we're not going anywhere.
Sorry kids, look around. The 70's and 80's still rule. And they may continue to rule until we are in our 70's and 80's.

Why Weathermen Are Wrong All The Time

The forecast calls for rain all day and yet it's bright and sunny.
Are the weathermen really wrong all the time
Or are they just trying to be funny?

Treasures In The Attic

Just some thoughts for a new column. Our senior citizens, or our elderly relatives are the best resource we have to connect to the past. Listen to their stories, better than any reality show on television. A connection to another era. Archaeologists of time, living through the ages and having seen things that some of us luckily never will. Faded as an old photograph, but with more information. The lines in their faces each tell a story, and a good one. Hold onto these links with the past, ever tenuous. I'm going to hold onto my parents tightly for as long as I can. Hugging them tight until I almost crush their brittle bones. They were the portals that brought me into this world, created in their likeness, and filling me with love that I can pour out to my own family.

I always thought it would be the ex-hippies of the sixties that straightened out society as they all approached old age. But now I know that isn't true. And my generation is not aging at all much to the chagrin of the youngsters. My generation, approaching fifty is still rocking and rolling (Prince, Madonna) with no let up in sight