I’ve had a conversations with someone who has a similar desire as I do, to live away from the insanity of the city and pressures of a career dominated life. Traffic, other people, things everyone wants done yesterday and having to fix other people’s problems that contaminate your own life, be it work or home seem never ending.



His is to live by the ocean that is slightly populated. Mine is to live by a lake or at least deep into the woods in similar fashion. This has been pulling at me since I was ten years old.


I was reminded of this last night when I watched a movie called Black Robe. It’s about a Jesuit priest trying to form a mission among the Hurons in Quebec back in the 1600’s. There were appealing shots of canoes paddled along high cliffs and scenes of deep woods. Above all of this, everything was hushed. Saguenay Quebec seems wonderful!


It’s funny how movies, with me at least, can invoke that feeling of peace. I’ve had this feeling with several other movies showing similar landscapes. Never Cry Wolf showed the Alaskan tundra, Jeremiah Johnson displays the Grand Tetons and The Last of the Mohicans opens up with a fog covered Shenandoah Valley. My just looking at a film of it can make me contented.


Have I actually experienced it? Sure. Don’t think I just live vicariously via movies. One time a ways back I was on an escarpment of Mt St Helen’s mountain. It was the south side, the side that wasn’t blown to little bits and still had a forest. It was a late July afternoon and I sat down among this field of alpine-like flowers and grass and looked south along the Cascades. The only noise I heard was the wind. After about an hour I had forgotten about many things in my life. My job, the need to drive back to Portland later or the worry of getting to the airport to drop off the rental and bolt to the concourse to pre-board. These things slipped away, for a while at least. If I had a blood pressure cuff I can bet my BP had dropped to slightly below normal then.


Dreams are free, that’s what is great about them. But they remain just that, dreams. They have as much consequence as the thin air. But, and thanks to my Dad for this piece of advice, if you want to create something in your life, plan it. Break it down to manageable pieces and work towards it. Realize you’ll be hampered by obstacles and the like but always focus on that goal. Eventually you can realize it.

Sunrise with the White Album

On early Sunday mornings WZLX, 100.7FM, has “Breakfast with the Beatles.” A few minutes ago I was listening to the song Why Don’t We Do It in the Road? off the White Album. That caused me to time warp back to an English class I had at Rhode Island College taught by Paul Anghinetti.



Paul was one of those professors who spent half the class pontificating on life instead of teaching the subject matter. He was quite opinionated about my generation, the Boomers. He would, rather jokingly and amusingly, criticize the hell out of us over whatever thing he could find. The thing was, he was right.


“You people can’t WRITE! You can barely read for that matter! Want to know when I last taught a real English class? Huh? It was 1972 for God’s Sake!! No one I came across after then could do it!” Pauly (as he preferred to be called) had no problem telling us how horribly educated we were up to that point.


Another morning in his class brought this.


“Oh, you think YOUR generation, the 60’s and 70’s are going to be the ones who “mark” the 20th century? Noooo! It was WWI and WWII that’s going to be remembered. You think the Beatles are going to be the signature of the past 100 years? And another thing! You people have NO morals! Hell, you display it in your music…”Why Don’t We Do It in the Road” is a perfect example!


Pauly wasn’t a prick. He was just lamenting all the things he grew up with. The WWII generation was being shoved aside and forgotten. In fact, Pauly was one of the more entertaining professors I’ve had at RIC.


And now I’m hearing Yer Blues now, “My mother was of the sky. My father was of the earth. And I am of the universe. And you know what it's worth.“(nothing at all).

English Dept. at Craig Lee

What You See Isn't What You Get

Conjure up your stereotype of a “surfer dude.” Now add to that image, scruffiness, granola and torn LL Bean shoes. Also, bedeck him with a personality that is seemingly unaware and always three seconds behind everyone else. Have it? I met a guy like this last night.


We were outside the Celtic watching the first snow flurry when I asked him about the cast on his right foot and how he came to break it.

 He answers. “Sheesh…some fat guy fell on it while I was fighting him and his three friends, sort of tackled me by falling down onto my legs. I was wasted and didn’t know it was hurting till six hours later. It sort of sucks, having to limp about at work and stuff.”


I ask him where does he work, thinking it was some sort of job requiring that he stand all the time.


“I work with a scientist. We make new cancer therapies.”

In my mind I say the word “bullshit“ to myself as he tells me this story. God, another peon totally inflating his carriage and position in this world. There are thousands of them!

“Ok, let’s flesh this out a bit more” I say to myself. I know something of cancer, sickness and medical advances. Let’s see how long this dimwit can sustain this fiction.


“What do you do? Does it involve new chemo treatments or radiation? I ask.


“No, no…We extract T cells from a patient’s body, change the DNA via a virus carrier, to increase their targeting onto the specific cancer they have. Then we grow them in a medium…sorta increase the cell counts by ten to twenty fold. We then replace these super T cells back into the patient. We inject a Rambo army of T cells onto the cancer.”


“T cells? Viral manipulation of DNA? “Growing medium?” I stand there shocked hearing these words coming from, what seems, a pothead.


“What school did you go to? You have a degree in biology? I ask?


“Yeah…I got a bio degree…(snort)…from Rhode Island College” he says.


I then ask, “Do you remember a Ted…”


“…Duluk?” He says, cutting me right off and answering correctly. Ted Duluk is a biology professor that I knew one time. And he worked at RIC.


I stand there still, not believing what I’m looking at. This guy looks too fucked up to be able to tie his own shoes. What bio engineer looks like this?


Later on, I remembered the old movie “The Absent Minded Professor.” I then realize that this guy, who was much younger than me, was probably his generation’s version of this goofy personage.

A Few Christmas Memories

Well, another Christmas comes at us at 100mph as usual. There are the people you must send cards to, gifts to buy and the parties to attend. With me, memories of past Christmas’s will crop up.


When I had a family so long ago, we’d used to go to our Uncle’s Christmas Eve party at his house on Sterry St. The Irish celebration does not include much food as the Irish could never cook to save their lives. There was however, much alcohol. I can remember the adults first acting normal then getting progressively louder (read as: drunker) till one of them fell on the card table knocking it over. We kids took advantage of the situation by doing what we wanted as the adults were too silly to manage us. Overall, it was a fun night.

A strange occurrence would happen later in the night at each of those parties for years for which I was never given a proper explanation. A man would show up, an Irish national, and would back slap and shake everyone’s hand. He would work the crowd and collect money and checks from them. The adults would be talking about people I never knew, one being Bernadette Devlin. The name stuck with me because of the odd last name sounding like the DEVIL. He would stay about 30 minutes and claim he had many other parties to attend that night. When I asked why he was collecting so much money my uncle would say, (in an Oi-rish accent) “Oh Ronnie, he’s collecting for the poor in Ireland, it’s a Christmas gift from us to them. They can buy shoes, clothing and food with it.”

Being seven years old you believe what grown ups tell you.

A few years later I finally figured it out when I learned that this man was a “Southie” from Boston, an illegal Irish immigrant and was armed. One night he was showing an automatic pistol to someone in my uncle’s driveway. I happened to be looking in the right direction when he pulled it out halfway from his winter coat.

The brain clicks…one plus one equals…the Irish Republican Army. I later learned that this “Bernadette Devlin” was radical agitator during the Troubles in Ireland.

“Collecting for the poor in Ireland…huh?” I sarcastically thought to myself.




*****

As I became much older and as our family was being whittled down one by one, my brother and I would find our other friends who were in a similar situation and create our own “family” for that night. On Christmas Eve’s, we would ape an East Side of Providence Jewish tradition and go to Chinese restaurants. Since Christmas Eve and Christmas itself pretty much shuts down the state, your Jewish will find the only other race that kept their businesses open that night, the Chinese.

Our group was pretty varied. We had a RISD art teacher, a cab driver/writer, a few lawyers and a couple of actors from Trinity Rep where my brother had been working. We’d eat, drink and recall past Xmas’s or just yap in general. My brother never drank much and whined to go home early. Sure, fine. I’d then go over to the Polish family I knew to finish out the evening. I’d be offered a few shots of some Polish rubbing alcohol called “Spiritus.” Augh, that stuff was awful! Christmas mornings brought a nice breakfast of fried rice and crab Rangoon!

Applications are now being accepted.

Ok girls! Here's the new application! Get it filled out and we can start the interviews soon!

                                    Application for Girlfriend





Name_____________________________________________


Address___________________________________________




Phone #____ - ______-______




SS#___ __ _____




Credit Card # _________________(For vetting purposes only! Really!)




Height_____________




Weight____________ (Don’t lie now!)




Age_______________ (Really Don’t lie on this one!)




Hair Color__________




Are You? (check one please) Single___ Married___ Married and Looking to Cheat___


Have a Crazy Ex Boyfriend Who Will Follow Us Wherever We go_____






I. Past Relationship History


Do you have Children? (circle one please) Yes/No
Are they living with you? Yes/No
How many? (Fill in here, If you have over 2 children, stop this application immediately!!!!)_____


Do You Want Prospective Boyfriend to PAY FOR EVERY DAMN THING THEY WANT? Yes/No


How many Men have you slept with? (circle one please) One, Two, Three, Four, So many that keeping count is meaningless now.


Does former husband/boyfriend refer to you as:


The one that got away


The “lump”


That goddamn whore who took everything I had!






In the past have you ever? (circle any and all)


Faked an injury, blamed your boyfriend so you could call the cops on him?


Been convicted of over 6 DWI’s?


Been accused of “whining?”


Bulimic or Anorexic?: (If bulimic, do you clean up your own vomit off the carpet?)

 Been in and out of cocaine rehab centers?








II. Psychological Analysis


Do you know what Butler Memorial Hospital is? Yes/No


Do you know what anti-psychotic medications are? Yes/No


Is your self esteem lower than a flea‘s? Yes/No


Does the phrase “hitting bottom” have any meaning to you? Yes/No






III. Employment History


Are you working? Yes/No


Are you a “working girl? Yes/No (Answering Yes or knowing what this means


precludes you forever!)


May I call your former employer? Yes/No


(If former employer uses the words “f’ing bitch, damned thief or stubborn as a


Donkey,” you are precluded)






IV. Financial Test




1+1 =


You’ve been arrested for insider fraud, your first phone call should be to…


A. Your Lawyer


B. The take out pizza joint


C. NOT TO ME




You’re paycheck this week is $1,000. Your bills are $400, $100 and $300.


How much money can you spend on the weekend?


A. $200


B. $17,500


C. $1,000






Thank you for taking the time to answer these questions. I hope you will do well. Please download this, fill it out and tack this to the giant oak tree in Slater Park at the north end of the duck pond. Sorry, my real address must be kept secret.

Filthy Rich...

So what can I talk about now? Ugh, running out of ideas here. All I’m doing now is looking at this screen, listening to Skynard’s Ballard of Curtis Lowe and being stared at by a German Shepherd.

I’m dressed in Polartec pants and a ratty looking plaid shirt (I won’t get rid of it, I like it!). My hair is a wild mess and I.don’t.care. The bills are paid, the bank account is nicely stuffed and I have no real pressing issues to attend to today.

God, if were a millionaire, I’d be worse. There’s a scene near the end of There Will Be Blood where Daniel Day Lewis is lying, passed out in a hallway of his mansion, with a half eaten steak on a plate and a bottle of vodka by his head. Olympic style sloth! I might be able to one up him on that if I had that ridiculous freedom the super rich have, to be able to ignore even those most basic social norms like going out in public looking like you’ve been dipped in Crisco oil.

I once worked briefly at a hoity toity country club where I could witness the rich. The entrance fee was $40,000 and yearly dues about $10,000. Not only did you need that but being a WASP was a help. Membership was by invite ONLY. Being an eye-talin cathylick just won’t do.

There was a group of women members there, in their late 50’s, who spent the day drinking martinis and vogue-ing their way throughout the place. All of them dressed like the Queen Mother and probably didn’t shower in days. Their hair was unkempt and their skin had that oily sheen. What’s funny, that look was aped by the other older women who didn’t have access to that particular clique just yet.

The men? One I swore was a SS Waffen type. This guy was Aryan Poster Boy and when he found out I used to work in social services, he could barely hide his disgust. The other guys either were perfectly dressed or looked like the caddys.

You know, it’s probably good I don’t own 51% of Pfizer’s stock. I’d be so immoral and crooked it would take three lawyers to screw me into my clothing each day. That kind of freedom would allow me to do anything I wanted…and I’d probably do it. Then I’d get bored and try to find something even more outlandish to try out. I’d be an adrenalin junkie.

*****

I once dated a rich cougar way out of my range. To give you an idea of her assets, her parents owned a large oil delivery business and were kind enough to buy each of their three kids a house of their own.

I met her at a club in Providence one night and after the usual phone chat we made a date. She gave me the directions to her home in Scituate and when I pulled up I realized I was way out of my league. She met me at the door with a glass of white wine in her hand, dressed in Nieman Marcus and gave me the quick tour of her country estate home. Know what I was thinking as I saw all these assets tastefully displayed? I thought, “Oh god, she wants me to be her Kept Boy.” I was feeling like this date was going to suck real quick, real fast.

Well, that night turned into a summer and autumn. Things went better than I thought that first day when I saw her in her home.


She had that air of “protection” enveloping her. The protection that family money can bring. No matter how badly she behaved, not that she did, there was always Daddy to pluck her out of it. Well, when you do have that cocoon, what do you know of daily threats when you’re just middle class? You are going to be spoiled by that comfy lifestyle.

Ok, that’s it…I will work on this more or not.

You Can Get Anything You Want...

When I awake, the first thing I do in the morning is get the dog out side to do his thing. If I’m not fast enough, he’ll find the “good” carpet and do it on that. I’ll stand there in the backyard, still very drowsy, swaying somewhat on my feet as my balance hasn’t returned yet. For me, doing any task two minutes after waking up is pathetic. I have terrible coordination, but that’s another story.


For several mornings I’ve been noticing the grey skies, the leaves piling up on the ground and that enveloping silence as the song birds have fled south. I stood there a few days ago, looking around and whispered to myself, ”November…a perfect November.”

 To tell the truth, I like November.

 November meant this to me growing up. Tan and gray looking woods, the first stinging cold nights and Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving in our family was a small affair as our family was small to begin with. Also, there was this weird Edwardian air to our family and that holiday. We weren’t boisterous nor garrulous. We seemed almost “proper” when we sat at the table. Then again, the tablecloths came out and the good plates were used. Nothing was told to us kids to shut up and be on our best manners. It was expected.

As you grow and move from just the experience of your family to others, you can be wide eyed at how different others are. I can remember a Thanksgiving while around an Italian family. They seemed to be SHOUTING all the time and had relatives in the thousands stuffed into a small house. These people are nuts I can remember thinking.

Other Thanksgivings showed me how some families had NO problem rekindling a family feud over some grievance that occurred fifth-teen years ago. I once saw one where the brothers started whomping one another and then spilling out into the driveway to continue it. The only injuries they sustained was from falling down hard onto the concrete and not from any fists.

A few Thanksgivings had me drunker than a monkey, eating too much and then collapsing on the couch or even the floor to sleep it all off. But that was back then when I could drink warm, straight Popov vodka. It helps to be a teen with a liver that works very, very well.

One ceremony I make sure to do is find on the radio, Arlo Guthrie’s Alice’s Restaurant Massacree. That’s how you finish out Thanksgiving and cap off a November.