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Digging up the DNA

Sunday, August 14th, 2011

Westfield NJ

Twice I asked two people who were “around” when Grandma May Gill very suddenly died of a heart attack back in 1959 whether they thought Fredrick Gill, her husband had poisoned and killed her. The first person was aunt Carol, the daughter of Grandpa Gill and May Gill. She was actually in the house when her mother had passed away. Carol’s reaction to my question, “Did your father kill your mother?” was as if she had just heard the funniest joke in the world, Yet, human nature seeks drama and disaster and I wrote that my grandfather was a murderer. Yeah sure it was harmless, (or so I think/thought) everyone that was involved with it or knew of it had passed away many years ago. There was one comment though, on the post, and I was never really sure who typed it, (Jim Gill??) “I can’t believe you wrote this..” sorta thing.
I thought about this. And then I thought about it again. And then one day a few weeks ago, I spoke with my long lost Aunt Gerry on the phone and kinda mentioned the “mysterious” death of my Grandma Gill. “What are you crazy? There was NOTHING mysterious about her death at all!” Even though she was from “the other side of the family” she told me she knew the facts. “Your Grandpa Gill never murdered anyone!”
After I heard the convincing tone of her voice and remembered and saw the expression on Aunt Carols face, I knew I was MISGUIDED by someone and wrong. I was wrong. It wasn’t true. I apologize. Rest in peace, Grandpa Gill.

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For Gods sakes put your arm around me!!!

Thursday, July 28th, 2011

You say goodbye, I say hello


Another photo from the Gerry archives. This is Uncle Bill. William Hartman. Dads brother. I will give Gerry tons of credit…even though the photo is taken too far away, off center and is blurry as hell….at least SHE TRIED! Thirty six years ago when she took this photo, she tried to create a memory, she tried to connect me to my uncle Bill. The man I NEVER knew. He was always so reserved and quiet…but that is just him and I’m sure he hasn’t changed much or at all. God bless him. I have thought about him the past 36 years. I think he was living in San Diego when I last saw him. I even think I was at his house. Or maybe it was Long Beach. I just remember California being another planet, not another state. Things were so so different there.
I have been told that Uncle Bill lives in California still. I know he had some health issues as a kid but here he is out-living my dad by two-fold.
In this photo we are at DisneyLand. We are standing in front of the attraction: “It’s a Small World” What happens in this ride is that you are seated in a boat and you float into several rooms representing different parts/nations of the world. There are ethnically correct dolls on both sides of the “river” and they all sing the same song–in synch—in their language. The message is pretty powerful, being this: We are all one. We are one world. The song to me, is just very sad and it brings tears to my eyes EVERYTIME. I do know this, Aunt Gerry just simply ADORED the “It’s a Small World” attraction and I can remember the look on her face as we rode it together long ago in 1975; she was a little girl in a candy store. I think I can slightly remember her having some kind of doll collection when I was little.

it’s a world of laughter, a world or tears
its a world of hopes, its a world of fear
theres so much that we share
that its time we’re aware
its a small world after all

CHORUS:
its a small world after all
its a small world after all
its a small world after all
its a small, small world

There is just one moon and one golden sun
And a smile means friendship to everyone.
Though the mountains divide
And the oceans are wide
It’s a small small world

(chorus)

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A Night at the Circus

Wednesday, July 20th, 2011

Route 76, Somewhere in Pennsylvania, daybreak.


Let’s walk into the dark fields of uncut grass. Into the heart of America, the midwest laughter and red white and blue explosions in the sky. Feeling the immediate sowing of a yellow hook moon in my heart. Another journal into the depths of space. The ending of the pain from my headaches….( a blood pressure concern)
I’m in the wrong century again, damn it! I miss the sepia skies and the angles singing. The black and white streets, crowds of busy people and the gaslights glow.

Dark pub and a lost soul from the future.

This is where I met him many years ago. A disco in the seventies. The drinking age was still eighteen. We were deadheads drinking shots, dressed like slobs and making fun of the music. The women were beautiful with big hair and attitudes. Annoyed at the hippies laughing in the dark corner. I had too much, as usual and it always seemed to hit me earlier then the other guys. I was never meant to be a drinker. I threw up all the time and I had diarrhea. Other guys could just drink, pound them down and play quarters for 24 hours straight and get up and walk a straight line home. (at the moment I am writing this, I am experiencing a severe case of Déjà vu) Now this crazy looking guy from across the bar is staring at me and I feel a vomit coming on so I ease over towards the bathroom and this guy is suddenly waiting there. I ignore him as I feel for the mens room in this dark hallway….I mean really dark….”Hey listen…..hey…hey George.”
So who the fuck is that and how do they know my name. The room is spinning. The music is thumping “Funky Town” by Lipps I think, I could almost taste the vomit…”Hey George” he giggles. He is right next to me. Suddenly I feel better. I feel better than better. I feel great. I am sober, I think. This guy is staring at me in the dark with this big smile.
“Hey George” he half whispers.. “I know you. I’m from the future.”

It's not easy being green

This really happened to me. A disco in 1979. A strange dude that told me about cell phones, 9/11, the Giants winning a Super Bowl in seven years, financial hardships, computers taking over, marriage, divorce, winning the lottery, drugs, drinking, sex, death, miracle cures, war, typhoons, tornados, tsunami’s, torture…
Hey you freak what are you saying. What are you putting in my mind. What the fuck is a cell phone? What kind of crazy pants are you wearing….disco boy….fag….leave me alone. Oh my head hurts from you. Get out of my life. Get out of my mind!!! Now forever making cameo appearances in my freaking dreams. Do you believe me?

409 Downing Street Westfield New Jersey


Dad’s Root beer
Our dads home when he was growing up. His teen age years. Meeting mom. Having dinner with Geraldine his sister and William his brother. His mom and “Pop” sitting in the living room waiting for him to go through that front door again and join the marine’s….or get married….or help Pop out at the store on East Broad street….not too far away. Westfield was a different place then, but it hasn’t changed much since. The biggest disappointment most recently is that they tore down “The Leader Store” They still have real live cops directing traffic during peak hours. The Westfield Sewing Center, our Grandfathers and then our dads place of business is long gone. People don’t sew their own dresses, curtains or make crafts anymore. Everyone is too busy on the cell phone or watching reality TV on the tube. We are all in front of mini-monitors, TV, computer or phone…taking commands and giving them. One of the things my dad passed on to me was growing tomatoes. It is an art to grow them…actually an easy art. Tomatoes are very hardy plants and even a seed from a tomato on a sandwich can fall in the crack of the sidewalk and if you let it grow, YOU WILL harvest a tomato or two. The weather here has been absolutely gorgeous. It has been the Summer of dreams….long days, hot skies, cold oceans, simmering spaghetti sauce, ribs and tomato plants wilting in the endless ninety degree days.
There are few gifts greater than offering your friend your home to stay. The other night we lay by the windowsill telling stories of our days, current and past. The Summer had been so hot, we were worried about the flowers. But as the darkness grew in the fading day a cool breeze had reached on the window sill. A small rumble of thunder. A flash of lightening and finally ……..rain. We listened, watched and talked. I am very grateful for that moment of time. To be protected from the storm but to be so close to it. To be able to listen to someone and have someone listen to me. To be able to smell the rain. To be able to call something “home” is a great gift. To have the blessings to share a meal with the one you love. To sit on the back deck and watch the day slowly turn into night. The candle on the wooden table splashes yellow puddles on your face. These are the moments of that you live for. The quiet unnoticed ones. I wouldn’t have them if it wasn’t for you. Thank you.

A night at the circus


A moment of time forever etched digitally on a blog deep in space. Perhaps not for eternity but it is there only because I thought it was worth digging in my pocket for my camera. We were cutting through some woods towards a wooden roller coaster. The yellow spot lights giving off an eire glow. Party balloons abandoned. My kids way ahead of me because I was keeping company with my stupid camera. Somewhere in south Ohio, July 4, 2011, the United States of America. Earth.

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Posted in Gratitude, Mom Dad, Ohio, seasons, Uncategorized | No Comments »

lost weekend

Thursday, July 7th, 2011

I owe you another kiss....

After the twisted storm had passed, the tornadoes papers flying out of the grasps of the harmless clouds. The banners hanging black unswayed and unnoticed … and very alone. “We tried…” someone whispered from the bricks. It was true. Effort wasn’t the villain, sweat flew with it’s hero cape across the expansive lobby. The smiles from the purpose were beaming halfway across the dark gray sky above the swamp.
I opened the skyline (Manhattan) with a crooked can-opener on a dreary Monday morning…driving faster….faster….beyond all signs of rescue.
We owe you another kiss on the fields of the great unknowns. You were unromantic yet sexy, in your black dress with yellow trim. We followed you off a cliff of paper money. Under dark chandeliers in theaters. That small space between the curtain where you peek out. It is clear you, and everyone in the audience can not stay here, but yet, I love you.

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beneath the neon glow (Diary of a sex addict)

Sunday, April 24th, 2011

Late one rainy Spring night in a hotel, Midtown Manhattan New York City. A dark room with one single candle on a night table next to the bed. The performers cannot be seen, only heard apparently from a pile of pillows and blankets on the bed. A window next to the bed is covered with rain. The reflections of a neon light occasionally flickering on and off splashes red and blue lights on the bed.

Butch: (yawning) are you still cold?
Coco: Mmmmmm mmmmm
Butch: What about you?
Coco: Mmmmmm??
Butch: What about you?
Coco: I’m really tired….mmmmm…..so tired. My clients were so demanding today. My Mac is acting up. The photo shoot was horrible. My package design was outright rejected.
Butch: What about you?
Coco: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe when I was like six or seven my father used to make me take showers with him. He never touched me but even then, I knew it wasn’t right. I mean shit, at that height it was the only thing I saw. I remember eating breakfast in the dark because we never paid the electric bill and my mom had arranged to have an extension cord come through the window from our neighbors house. She would use the cord to make the coffee first and then the toast. It snowed a lot when I was a kid. One time I went outside in my snow suite and it was so cold that I was pounding on the door to get in after only five minuets. I don’t know what they were doing in there but it seemed like, maybe it was an hour or two before it opened again. I got sick and my mother hide the frost bite by not letting me go to school for a week. One day when I was around ten, a man pulled up next to me in his car to ask for directions to the library. I knew where the library was because I went there all the time. I loved to read books about design, color and architecture, even at that age. I used to go to the library to hide from life. The bullies at school were starting to get physical, pushing me into my locker and laughing. I was so scared I can’t even tell you. Well anyway, halfway through my directions to the library, I realized that the man in the car had no pants or underwear on. I was so stupid, I just finished the directions and walked away. It was the third penis I had ever seen. That is if you count brothers. I used to change my younger brothers diaper. I remember running through snow covered hills and making sleds outta cardboard until my friend Bobby got hurt one day. His sled went off the trail, it was too icy and he hit a tree head-on. An ambulance had to come and we only saw Bobby two times after that, looking out of his bedroom window waving at us. They say he became retarded after he hit that big fat oak tree with his head and we never went sledding again. I found myself going to the library more and more to read and sit in a corner sometimes until it closed and they chased me out. I loved learning and discovering what made things work. I stole my mothers Polaroid camera, well, she never used it anyway and took pictures of everything, I mean everything. The film wasn’t expensive because I stole that too, until I got caught by Mr. Jeffries at the five and ten and he took me in the back room and said he was gonna spank me, and that maybe I might have to pull up my dress. When I told him I knew he was just trying to look at my vagina, his eyes almost popped out of his head, he gave me the rest of his Polaroid film which was seven packs…enough for fifty photos and ten dollars if I promised not to steal anymore which I agreed to but I had my fingers crossed behind my back. I loved taking photos with that camera it became an extension of me. I started to experiment and paint and write on the film before it had a chance to dry. Then I started cutting things out of newspapers and pasting them on cardboard that I found behind Mr. Jeffries store. I had a big box of art and supplies that I had to hide from everyone because I know they wouldn’t like it or my mom would certainly throw it away. My bigger pieces I put in the garage behind the broken washing machine. I started to really like making things from nothing. I was addicted to it. The first time a man put his thing inside me I became addicted to that too. I think I was seventeen. In the corner of my garage on an old army blanket right in front of the broken washing machine that hid some of my artwork. I wanted to go to college and keep on learning but it was never mentioned by my parents in my senior year. My dad said that Mr. Jeffries had a “Help Wanted” sign on the front of his store window. I went up to my room and cried. I dreamed of collage that night. I was walking down the hall and there were no bullies. The walls were filled with art, the windows were big and there were oak trees and a valley. The teachers were all nice and helpful. I had long black hair and black eyes. I wore dresses of yellow and orange covered with tulips and bees. But then my dreams slowly evaporated. I became obsessed with something else. I had reached a turning point in my life with no more school. I was on the verge of the deepest most darkest days of my life.
Butch: Really?

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waiting for Big Moon

Saturday, April 23rd, 2011

It was BIG alright!

When I woke up Kryha said “Those poor Japanese people” and here it was eight or so days later and we are still captivated by the news. But when it is the first thing you say when you wake up then you know it was such an intense, earth moving event that you become consumed by it….well at least I was. It is the opposite – “does – G(g)od – really – exist” – thought. What I mean by that is this: “Why them?” Aren’t the Japs supposed to humble, quiet and clean? Free of crime? Spiritual?” If G(g)od really does exist then why would he wallop them with the triple-header? Tonight was the biggest moon in eighteen years. I thought of Richard and Clara. How close their dead bodies were. How I wanted to be by them. I imagined laying down on the grass spread out. Reaching for their bones. Reaching for the life that they lived. The Trolly cars, the horse shit on main street. Chicken dinner with the Hartmann’s The woman with the beautiful big brown eyes, mother of fifteen children. Burying two little infants (I will find them one day too!) and what about all the heartache, that they experienced? It all means nothing now. They had the world on their shoulders and now they are buried in it. This hustling-bustling time bomb of a planet. I would see Joshua and Jonathan tomorrow, BUT today, a day before the Big Moon, I would visit Richard and Clara. Swiftly through the sky blue windy day. (one day before Big Moon. In German dreams and tongue, I travel through time on slow moving elephants. Into the sands of time, the hourglass of past memories, into the streets of Jersey City.
Only In America can you come home from such a busy day and pop some popcorn in the microwave oven, sit down and watch a war, live on television, and then they cut over to a nuclear disaster (they are finding trace amounts of radiation in Seattle Washington) There are people over there that have been buried underneath the rubble for a week and they are uncovering them alive. If you want to know what it is like to get swept away by a tsunami, then you should watch the first ten minuets of Clint Eastwoods (directed by) movie, The Hereafter Although, it is nothing like the first ten minuets of “Saving Private Ryan” it has the same effect. It blows your mind!

PHOTOS THAT MAKE YOU THINK
In March 2011′s photo’s I only now just noted that there is one thing similar to all the photos for that month. I took every single photo. Do you think I will ever run out of photos that make you think? Maybe when all the photos are grabbed off my laptop it may mean only three things: 1. I have run out of photos and I am desperate. 2. I am just a lazy bastard and didn’t have time to scan, clean and color correct. OR 3. I am still waiting for help from the family in the form of emails and/or snail mail scans.
In Feb 2011 photos that make you think there is a photo of one of the scariest moments in my life. In the Summer of 1975 I was sent to California to visit the Jones’. The Jones’ were our nephews and niece from our fathers side of the family. Our father had a sister named Geraldine. She married Robert “Jay” Jones. They had three children: Robert, (Jaybird) Diane and Dennis. We used to be very close with them as children (for those very few of us who can remember) Jay Jones was a professional soilder and “worked” as a soilder in south Jersey. Dad used to take us down there alot. His sister Geraldine, was a shrieking manic-depressant that yelled and cried a lot. She was a very good woman, though. She also had another child, much older than the others named David, I think out of wedlock that eventually became some kind of manager for Dads fabric store in Westfield.

"Jaybird" Jones poses with me pool-side July 1975. He reeked of reefer and mistrust.

In my Summer trip to California I met all the Jones’ for what would probably be the last time in my life. My aunt Geraldine loved to take photos but she was lousy at it.
I hated being there in California that Summer. I was told it would only be “a week or two” but it turned into the whole Summer. I wil never forget that lie. Mom drove me to Newark airport very drunk and late. The plane ride was my first and it was amazing to me. To look down at the clouds, toy cars and toy cities it is only then that you realize just how bug The United States of America is!! (2,825 miles)
I wanted to be home. Summers were magical back then. The side-street gang may have been fading, Bill Brunner may have moved away for all eternity but there was no school, no work and long hot days. Mc, Gitts, Beds, and the others were all playing baseball, football and hunting for unexploded fireworks on the streets July 5th.
In this photo Jaybird had me! His arm around my neck. Aunt Gerry ready to snap a photo and I just knew he was gonna throw me in the pool and the sound of “cheese”.
I was a very awkward fifteen year old boy. I was as skinny as a stick. I had a uncontrollable mop of yellow hair, pimples all over, I had two huge front teeth that were chipped (I didn’t smile for 18 years until I had them fixed myself) I was lost without my father, my mother was always drunk, I had zero self-confidence, I had just completed my freshman year in an all-boys Catholic High School that was an absolute nightmare, I didn’t know what was going on inside my body or outside my body. My penis had become an uncontrollable monster connected to me like an evil twin. I was confused, very lonely, young, dumb and full of ……
Jaybird never threw me in the pool but now thirty-six years later I am looking for him. On Facebook. In people searches, obituaries, web browses… I have been trying to find this part of our family for as long as the internet has been around. The biggest obstacle that I have faced is their last name: JONES. (this is the third most common name in the United States behind Brown and Williams)
The “TAG” words in this blog, I have discovered are VERY powerful. They are openly exposed (and very quickly I might add) to search engines all over. I have randomly added our cousins the Jones’ to many of the blog posts in the hopes that maybe one day they may “google” themselves and find us. So far nothing. No sign of any Jones’ anywhere. Come out, come out, where ever you are!
Why America is so Damn Fat getting fatter.
It all began about eight or nine years ago when fast food establishments ended their CASH ONLY policy and started accepting credit cards. WORSE THAN THAT, they suddenly started their “We are open LATE” routine. Not just until midnight but two or three o’clock in the morning. Have you ever driven past the drive thru of a McDonalds at ONE AM in the morning and seen seven or eight cars waiting for deep fried fat and hamburger meat on a sesame seed bun?? Is it dinner time? NO! It’s let’s have ANOTHER fat drenched meal before bedtime!!!
WHY do we CARRY ON like nothing happened?
Am I the only one that still feels a sense of dread and doom over the loss of 15,000 human beings and counting in Japan?? That there is STILL a NUCLEAR TIME BOMB on the edge of the ocean some where in the world. Life still goes on. We work. We go to school. We play. We turn on the news and Japan isn’t the headlines anymore, sometimes not even the second page. Mothers are still driving their cars, loaded with their young innocent children into lakes. People are still getting blown-up beyond recognition in third world countries, the economy is still sinking like a Western sunset into the sea…people are still killing people, with guns, their cars, bats, knives and poison. Life goes on.
WHERE IS THE HAPPY NEWS?
HEADLINES:
Father Doesn’t Leave Family
or
Women Completes Rehab rejoins family to tears and hugs
or
Family Buys A Home
or
Man Donates HALF his Savings to Charity
or
Woman Opens Door For Crippled Woman at WalMart

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Posted in cousins, Krystina, Photos That Make You Think, Self Portrait, Tall Tales, Uncategorized | No Comments »

a MAJOR heritage Hartman BREAKthru

Tuesday, March 8th, 2011

In my on and off extensive search for our heritage I have found out some very cool and very important information. Only because of our sister Barbs brave dig into our great aunts sisterhood on Menham NJ, (a letter mailed about 4 years ago) was I able to obtain the complete list of our Grandpa’s 12 brothers and sisters. With this information, I may have contact with someone who has access to even more information and even more exciting some photos of our great grandparents and their 12 children.
We already knew there were 13 children and that one had died in infancy but now it has been uncovered that two had indeed very sadly passed away before their first birthday. (this was actually a pretty common thing back then and the life span of most adults back then rarely went past 50)

So here it is, In order of their births:

1. Gertrude b:1888 d:1973 (In 1913 became an nun “Sister Clarella.”)
2. Fred b:1889 m:1920 (Married Lydia Marklein) d:1941
3. Clara Mathilde b:1890 m:1914 (Married J.Van Duzer) d:1932 (Relatives
located on this side of family.)
4. Emmy b:1892 d:1892 died as infant
5. Frieda b:1894 d:1973 became a nun “Sister Richardis”
6. Charles Richard b:1895 d:1895 died as infant
7. Katherine b:1896 m:1918 (Married Henry Jager) d:1969
8. George Joseph b:1898 m:1917 (Married Florence Swaine) m: 2nd time in 1929 (Alice Anderson) d:1970
9. Margaret Helen b:1899 m:1919 (Married Frank Robarge) d:1971
10. Clara b:1901 m:1927 (Married Henry Ulrich) d:1962
11. Rose Anna b:1903 m:1925 (Married William Ross) d:1974
12. Alfred b:1906 m: 1933 d: unknown?
13. Marie Elizabeth b:1909 (never married) d: unknown ?

#8 – George Joseph is our Grandfather . Also very new information is that he was married twice and his second wife – Alice Anderson our Grandmother, was the mother of our father George Charles. It is important to note here that in the 1950′s which was shortly after World War II and the holocaust, our Grandfather knocked off a ‘N’ on our last name. I remember our mother telling me it was a business decision based on the name Hartman (one ‘N’ Jewish) and Hartmann (2 ‘N’s’ being German). Since most salesmen in America in the 1950′s were Jewish, it was said that they merely avoided any contacts with German people.

I am trying very hard to get in touch with the woman that posted this information on the web. Her Grandmother was our Grandfather’s sister; Clara Mathilde. I have emailed her twice so far with no return. Of corse I will never stop trying.
Somewhere out there are photos of this family and I think she may have them. It would be amazing to look into the faces of a one-hundred year old family of fifteen and to see, perhaps, our own likeness’. You must understand that DNA and generation to generation chemistry is carried on and passed. We are what they were and although every individual that has ever visited this planet is entirely unique, but that families are in some spiritual and chemical way… are tied together for all eternity.
-more info to come-

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Posted in HERITAGE, Mighty Ten, Mom Dad, Our Children, the beginning, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Excuse me, while I kiss the sky.

Monday, January 31st, 2011

Oh, James you said it so well. With your guitar licks and deep lyrics. Don’t be afraid of the dark anymore. One day I’ll be home. Wherever and whatever that is.
If I owned a home AGAIN-it would be a happy little brick house with happy landscaping and a big big big tree to protect me from harm. I could cut the grass and smell the flowers, grow vegetables – happy vegetables – and put up a fence to keep out bad people. Happy little bad people. Life would be good. I would have a garage with happy tools to make happy things. People would drive by and say, “Hey, look at that happy little brick house on the corner over there!! And the house would say, “You’re damn right!” Inside the happy house would be happy people and life would be happy. The end.

the smug brick house on the corner

Oh

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Posted in Dreams, the beginning, Uncategorized | 1 Comment »

Desperate Houswives

Friday, January 28th, 2011

Act 1 Scene 6
A dimly lit restaurant in Soho New York. Butch and Coco are sitting in the corner, the only patrons. It is well past closing time. A waitress is nervously walking back and forth sometimes stopping and looking at her watch.
Coco: It’s closing time.
Butch: Life is too short for closing time. This place should be open all night, not fucking McDonalds.
Coco: Shhhhhhhhh
Butch: Don’t “shhhh” me, I’m picking up the tab……again.
Coco: Hey, I always offer to pay, you shoot me down. Besides I make more money than you now anyway.
Butch: (slurring) Who woulda thought?? It’s only a couple more months and we will have a fucking woman president! How did your gender do it? The climb was so high. It’s amazing that you did it with so many feet pushing you down…. it’s like … like … like..
Coco: (laughing) Salmon?
Butch: (deadly serious) Salmon!?? What the fuck are you talking about??
Coco: You know, swimming up stream? Salmon swim up stream to lay their eggs.
Butch: (laughing out of control now) Ha ha ha YOU are comparing the womans journey in society with a fish?? Ha ha ha. That’s just too much. Oh shit, speaking of salmon, was yours a little dry tonight?? Ha ha hee hee. Oh stop it. I can’t stop laughing….I’m gonna fart…
Coco: I thought men didn’t fart??
Butch: Yes that’s right. Yes. The role reversal is almost complete. First you can vote, then you can kill your babies, then you take our jobs, our cars, and we are stuck home with the dirty laundry and children. Soon in a hundred thousand more years of evolution we, the men, will grow boobs.
Coco: Shhhhh, your getting loud. You had too much wine.
Butch: (stands up and slowly turns around} Does my ass look fat in this?
Coco: You DON’T have an ass!
Butch: (bends over and sticks out his rear) Well kiss this assless ass then.
Coco: (winks) Anytime babe…
Butch: (looks at the waitress in the corner) Hey, are you closing?
Waitress: (looks at her watch) Yes, sir. Well, sir, yes, ummm well, actually we ARE closed.
Butch: Oh, sorry. (turns around slowly and points his rear at the waitress) Does my ass look big in this?
curtain.

This time it’s for real. I can’t believe it is two years since my layoff in New York City. I miss that city, even the deadly commute. The rain, snow, slush, vomit – the blue skies, excitement, shadows of the buildings, the wind lifting yesterdays news into the white puffy clouds. That fearless island of Manhattan, the clients, the color, the RGB, the cmyk, the lessons learned, taught and forgotten. The neon lights like the sun. The night shift. The 10 block walk to the bus. People met. People lost. Friendships blown away up into the puffy white clouds. In those two years, I must remember where I have been. This is where I came from; getting thrown on the street, like garbage, having no money, no bed, but never no hope. Never lose track of the fact that in the last ten years the climb from hell has been done SOBER.

You can destroy my family while you sit all smug in your corner brick home, trying desperately to forget. Eating home made bread on home made woven chairs, sharing stories of how drab life is. To wake up and smell the shit of your wife or husband everyday. The alarm clock is a ground hogs day nightmare. Everyday, the same thing at the same time except once, you had to call the fire department and even that was blamed on me. When they finally bury you, you will still be looking over your shoulder and if they don’t burn your body, they will have one hell of a fucking time trying to close the coffin.

Trips planned with the navigator:
1. Find Dads Westfield home. I know I saw that address somewhere.
2. Punch in the Jersey City address found on our dead aunts letter to admit into the sisterhood. Man, I miss those nuns!

I have seriously been trying to find Dads side of the family on this nifty new tool called “the internet” My God, where would we be without it. My two boys love the stories I tell of the “OLD DAYS” black and white TV, no PC, no MAC, … days of playing records on the record player, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, days of using the encyclopedias for homework reference, of even cutting out the pictures to use in reports. Of snow storms so big, and we never really knew they were coming because weather technology was so bad back then. Today they are closing the schools are giving “delayed openings” before even ONE SNOWFLAKE even hits the ground. Days when holidays were really magical and even suspenseful. Days when Cracker Jacks had REAL “Surprise Inside” and drive-in movies were on the weekend, and you could see the Sayerville Drive-in movie theater eveytime you went over that bridge in Perth Amboy.
THERE ARE NO MORE Drive -in movie theaters in New Jersey. So my “get rich quick” scheme is to bring one back. Think about it: All the graphics would be retro 1950′s theme. Mostly play old movies, remember DOUBLE FEATURES ??? B grade horror. CHEAP POPCORN. Sneaking people in the trunk. Full moon specials. People would come from MILES AROUND, maybe even from out of state, to come to my retro movie theater……….and then…..the novelty would wear out. It would rain. People would get sick of my drive – in movie theater and I would go broke, close the doors and weeds would grow ten feet tall where the cars used to park…. and under the light of a hot Summer full wolf moon … I would sleep there next to the tree weeds in my car. Scheming and dreaming and listening to the AM radio……

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A fans journey

Friday, December 31st, 2010

The internet is sadly my new newspaper

Update, 8:26 a.m. ET, 12/31: Nobody can really ever understand someone else’s passion unless it is theirs. We all have, need, and want diversions from everyday life and strife and this is one of mine. It has consistently annoyed people in my life for as long as it has been in my life -Forty-one years and counting now. To me, that is just a shame and it must be noted that, it will always be a part of me -psychologically – mentally – emotionally – and it is fun, unpredictable, horrible at times,( in loss) deep, joyous,(in victory) rebellious, strategically playful and it is the root of many conversations, memories, friends and more friends to come. So if anyone gets in the way of this “part of me” I would feel very sorry for you.

These are the dark times, the times that every fan knows they will always have to live through. As in “What goes up, must come down.” Like everything in life, you cannot be fooled by success, darkness lurks around every corner. This is perhaps nothing, I think, compared to the 1970′s and early eighties. With 4-10, 2-12, 6-10 seasons hitting you year after year, you become seasoned for disappoint.
When you are a ten year old boy that doesn’t understand how his heroes could fail him, then the tears that follow could only be the tip of the iceburg, the the said “berg” being ENDLESS bad calls, ENDLESS bad draft picks, ENDLESS horrible coaching, ENDLESS key injuries, ENDLESS doubt, lost pride, horrible play calling and ENDLESS head shaking at what might of been, what could have been and all too familiar “WAIT ‘TILL NEXT YEAR!”
Update, 1140 a.m. ET, 12/31 Nicks might not play due to a broken toe and that is key. He has been nothing short of sensational this year. The game has been moved back to a 4:00 PM start and the Bear vs Packer game is also for 4 PM. So it will be an ongoing scoreboard watching, field watching nerve-wracking adventure. This is much better than having the games start at separate times, I think, let’s just get it all over with at once.

It’s been so long since I’ve attended an away game, I can’t even remember but it was certainly in the BC era (Before Children) and the celebratory Not Married years of gambling, drinking and footballizing.


The drive begins Saturday afternoon. 229 miles. Overcast and drizzle we churn through the tolls, bridges and traffic. Over the Chesapeak Bay and past Bailtimore where we get a glimpse of The Ravens homefield where they will be playing on Sunday also.

The more I think about it, the more it realistic it can be; Giants win and Bears win. Simple? No. The problem is the Bears have absolutely nothing to play for.

Past Baltimore and into Maryland. We are now approaching enemy territory.
Update, 8:00 pm. ET, 1/1/2011: Where did this season go? 2011?? Where did this year go? Seems like yesterday I was on top of a snowpile with my airbags deployed sitting in my totaled car with my two boys. That was Christmas 2010. Then it was Spring. Then Summer was gone and now it another year. We are driving around the area after checking into the Holiday Inn. The rain intensifies and I wonder how we will stay dry at the game tomorrow if it doesn’t stop. I always thought bad weather was good for the Giants. Running game and defense is their ( apparently ) strengths. But all that goes out the window when you lead the league in turnovers.

Update, 2:30 p.m. ET, 1/2/2011: We just lost another option a “backdoor” into the playoffs. After a steak dinner, a college bowl game on Tv and a good nights sleep we watch the Saints get upset by the Bucaneers at New Orleans (a huge upset) and something FINALLY goes right for the Giants. BUT unfortunately we also need Carolina (probably the worse team in the NFC) to beat Atlanta (arguably the BEST team in the NFC. This didn’t even come close to happening. The Panthers lost 31-10.
So now as we prepare to head up to the stadium it is up to the Giants and Bears to win today. If that happens we “sneak” into the playoffs as the last seed.

Update, 2:30 p.m. ET, 1/2/2011: It is Harry, Joe and George hobbling behind them. Still raining. A little chilly. We are deep in enemy territory now except for Joe we are wearing our Giant blue. There seem to tons of Giants fans here but the burgandy and gold by far out numbers the visiting team Giants. Surprisingly there is no booing or taunting as we walk through the crowd. The Redskins season was miserable and ended a long time ago. It has been years since they made the playoffs. Every year a new hope a new hero (this year Donathan McNabb) and always a great start and then a big letdown.

We finally get to our seats and it just knocks me over. We are almost what seems to be (for me anyway) at field level and we are on the 50 yard line right behind the Giant bench! After sitting in the upper section for 35 plus years this a real treat.

Update, 4:15 p.m. ET, 1/2/2011: At game time it is still raining but we are covered by the second tier! I had to look at the face value of these tickets because I couldn’t believe how good they were. $99. Shit I’ll take that any day. These are probably $700. tickets in New York.
It’s a strange feeling to watch your team take the field in their away “whites” and have the people all around you booing and hissing. But in my new lower seats, the field looked smaller, the players looked bigger and things were more laid back here in Washington. You could “move around” the stadium without any real hassles from the ushers or security.
I never really felt the Giants would lose. They didn’t dominate but they were in control. In my many never forgotten memories of games and single plays, I witnessed one today. Right before my eyes, right in front of us and the Giants bench…..Manning to Manningham 92 yard catch and run. The longest of Eli’s career. In his seven years as Giants QB…he was NEVER known as the long ball guy so this was really sweet.
Four turnovers, two by Osi under a darkened moody sky kept things under control.

Eli in the shotgun 3rd quarter


The game was on the field but the other game and perhaps the real game was being played in Chicago at the same time. “We” needed the Packers to lose or tie. The scoreboard was constantly flashing scores but for the odd reason that we could only understand, they did not show the Bears-Packers score.
Update, 6:01 p.m. ET, 1/2/2011: My cousin Jim Gill in Ohio finally broke the tension with a Bears 7-0 and they just had a goal line stand text message. We were in the right place. Both of the teams we needed to win were winning, if just barely but they were winning. But these were very seasoned football men here. In the NFL it is NEVER OVER until the final tick tocks.

They weren’t showing the score on purpose and it was because the Bears were giving it a good fight. It was very late into both games and … oh shit, wait a minuet, “Tie game in Chicago” So NOW they put up the score. And the crowd cheers. They even show the touchdown on the huge screens on both ends of the stadium to eveyones delight.
Here’s what I thought about FeDEx Field: It looked alot older than I thought it was, kinda rusty and cracked but it is after all over ten years old already. The fans were strong and loud and to me that was impressive considering that this was the last game of a VERY DISMAL and disappointing season. A season that had very high hopes with a new, previous successful head coach. The fans around us were really into the game, young and old and I love to see that kind of passion. The cheerleaders were amazing and then there is the world famous Redskins band. A real tradition and presence in the stadium. The Redskins theme song played after their two touchdowns really added to the celebration and EVERYONE knew the words and EVERYONE got up to sing them. Not only that but a couple of guys came out running with these really huge Redskin flags and ran all over the field. Compared to what the Giants do (NOTHING) this was pretty cool in my eyes. What’s wrong with a couple of bells and whistles at a football game? When the Giants score they play that really fucking stupid same song over and over-BIG FUCKING DEAL-”I’m back in the New York Blue” I don’t even know who sings it NOR DO I FUCKING CARE.
The bottom line is this, the two owners of the Giants, Mara and Tisch, disagree on the bells and whistles thing. Mara is an old school guy like his dad while Tisch is more on the line of putting some celeberties on the sidelines, some cheerleaders and who knows what else.
My thoughts: I WANT A BAND AND CHEERLEADERS!
And the funny thing is, I used to be proud that the Giants put more emphasis on the game then on the sideline activity.

In front of the busy Giants sideline, a nice treat for someone who spent 40 years in the upper deck heavens.


The wise old men of the NFL

Update, 705 p.m. ET, 1/2/11
FINAL: GIANTS 17 Redskins14
But even before this, the big boards showed the game ending interception by the Packers to seal the Giants fate. We won, but we lost. We won but the Redskin fans let us know with chants and jeering that our season had ended today. I wasn’t hit too hard by this. It was a strange season. It was a disappointing season because at one time, after the Atlanta game, the media called us (once again) “The best team in the NFL” (always a curse) It seems to me, that much like the prized Super Bowl season only a few years ago, this team thrives on being the underdog. It thrives on flying in under the radar, the team that nobody cares about nor expects to win.
To add insult to injury, on my way out of the stadium I got distracted by a fight. A fight between two girls, both Redskin fans, of all things and as I was making a movie of it with my camera (YouTube “viral” dreams spinning in my head) another fan, a very drunk fan, and a young Giants fan, of all things, viscously bumped into me and I dropped my camera and it splattered on the concrete. It wasn’t worth screaming or getting angry. I actually hated that camera. I wanted to take a photograph of it lying on the cold concrete…broken and sad….but I couldn’t, my camera was broken.

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