John Lennon, My Life And Time Gone By

Thirty years ago tonight, John Lennon was murdered outside his home and I was there.

I worked for Leo Antiques on 2190 Broadway which was about eight blocks from the Dakota where the Lennons lived. Leo is no longer with us and the store has since closed, but every December the second floor of Leo's turned into the largest Christmas store in New York City.

That day thirty years ago, my boss, Leo, had flyers made out and my job was to go through the neighborhood putting them in doors to try to attract business. My last stop of the day was the Dakota. I knew that John Lennon lived there as well as Gilda Radner and Leonard Bernstein, so I took my time while in the building to try to catch a glimse of a celebrity.

At the end of the day instead of going to my normal hang-out - the Dublin House on 79th street, I decided to go one block from the Dakota to a bar on 72nd street for a few drinks. As I was leaving, several police cars and an ambulance raced past me and stopped at the Dakota. I thought about turning around, but since sirens were pretty common in New York I decided to head home.

When I got home I heard on the radio that John Lennon had been shot outside the Dakota and I soon realized that those police cars and the ambulance were for him.

Everyone knows the importance of John Lennon's music and I can't contribute anything better than what's already been written about him and his death. All I know is that every year at this time I find myself thrown back into my youth and am reminded of a person who's time on this Earth was cut way too short and then find myself questioning my own life and where it has gone.

Meat Eating Vegetarian

I am not a vegetarian, but I could easily become one because I actually like and eat vegetarian dishes more than meat ones. The only thing keeping me from banning meat from my diet is the fact that I like the occasional hamburger and I prefer meat in my lasagna. In fact, I love these two dishes so much that I can honestly say that being a vegetarian is not in my future. I'm also aware of the protein that meat provides and have no time or interest in finding alternative ways to get that protein in my diet.

Sub consciously I think many people think the way I do. Face it, when you're at a gathering and pizza is ordered, it always seems like the chesse or the pizza with the vegetable toppings go first. Likewise at a buffet. There always seems to be meat left at the end of the meal, but the vegetables?

Many people dismiss vegetarians as crack pots or politically correct trouble makers, but the bottom line is that their food is not only good for you, but it also happens to be delicious. I wish that more meat eaters would open their minds to vegetarian eating, for its much more than nibbling on carrots and eating salad and nuts. Much more.

The best way to discover the wonderful world of this misunderstood dining choice is to either have a vegetarian cook for you or go to a vegetarian restuarant. You will discover that what you thought you knew, you really don't know at all.

My Conversation With Diane Keaton

Having been an actor in New York City in the late 1970's I had an occasional brush with the rich and famous. My acting career was nothing to brag about and many of these celebrity encounters happened during my day job working in a pawn shop on Broadway. From Dr. Ruth to Caroll Spinney (Big Bird), Madonna to Tony Randall, John Lithgow to soap stars Michael Zazlow, Clint Richie, Cindy Pickett and Jerry verDorn, they (and many others) passed through our doors at a regular pace.

It's actually pretty common to see celebrities in New York City. A lot of them live there because they can lead somewhat normal lives without fans bothering them wherever they go. They can do normal things and fit into life like everyone else. And that's exactly what Diane Keaton was doing on the night we met.

My roommate and I were walking down the street and discovered this bowling alley on Amsterdam Ave. We lived near by and didn't know it was there, so we decided to check it out. To our surprise it was pretty crowded.

They sat us in this lane right next to another couple, so we had to share the area that held the bowling balls. It turns out that couple was Diane Keaton and the actor Bob Balaban (Close Encounters of the Third Kind). My roommate and I minded our own business and Ms. Keaton and Mr. Balaban minded theirs, although it was pretty hard not to stare, especially after Diane Keaton would throw a cutter ball - which she did several times.

At one point I was seated right next to her. And that's when it happened. She turned to me and said, "I'm terrible". I responded by saying, "No, you're not".

I lied. My only conversation with Diane Keaton and I lied. Sorry, Diane. I hope you understand. I just didn't have the nerve to tell you that you sucked at bowling.

Anyway, that was the extent of our conversation. It's something I know she has long forgotten, but I'll always cherish that night.

To Catch A Ghost, Part 2

Well...the test results say that my house is ghost free.

I had hoped against hope that the cat toys would be in a different location, but they weren't. They were exactly where I had left them. I can't honestly say that I had expected otherwise, but there was the slightest bit of hope that I would be wrong.

Death of a loved one, whether it be a human or a pet is a tramatic experience that takes months, sometimes years to recover from. We cling to the hope that we can still somehow connect - whether spirtually or paranormally, only to discover that in time those feelings often weaken or go away for good.

I'm still not one hundred per cent convinced that a form of Willy isn't floating around my house somewhere, which gives me the sad realization that I haven't fully recovered from the loss.

To Catch A Ghost, Part 1

My cat Willy died several months ago, but I believe his ghost is still hanging around the house. Most mornings my wife thinks that she hears him walking down the stairs and I have often times thought that I heard him playing with his toys in the other room. Also, late at night I often feel him jump onto the bed and go to sleep beside me, just like he did almost every night while he was living.

When Willy was alive, he always seemed to have a connection with outside forces. He would bat at unseen objects and would constantly cry at a blank wall as if something were inside it. Now that he's gone, it almost feels like he's joined that invisible world that he always seemed to be a part of.

My first clue to all of this was right after he died. We had decided that we were done with pets and we threw out all of the cat toys. That night I put the garbage out on the curb like I always do, but in the morning I noticed that many of the cat toys were scattered all over the yard. What made this interesting was that not all of them were out of the trash - only the ones that Willy always played with.

I gathered them up and threw them away again. The next morning, those same cat toys were scattered all over the yard has if they had been played with. This time, I decided to keep a couple of those toys.

Those toys have been sitting in my desk for several months, and I feel it's now time to get them out. Tonight I plan on putting them is different places in the house. The next morning, if Willy is a ghost, the toys should be in a different spot.

I don't know what I'm expecting, but I know what I'm hoping for. Check this blog soon for the results.

Holding Onto The Past While Dealing With The Present

My wife and I went out to dinner the other night with another couple. The first twenty minutes all four of us took turns telling each other of the declining health of our mothers. My friend said that his mother has gone down hill so much in the past two years that as far as he's concerned the mother he knew died two years ago.

I don't feel that way about my mother and I hope that I never will, but watching a parent battle the atrocities of father time is an eye opening experience. No one is perfect, but it seems like old age and everything that comes with it, magnifies those imperfections. For what was once a vibrant, fun-loving, life of the party, is many times of late replaced by a nervous, forgetful, mean-spirited, old stranger.

I watched both of my parents take care of their aging parents, so it's not like I didn't have any warning. I think it's just that I, and many other baby boomers just didn't pay attention. And the reality of it all is that now is when my mother needs her family the most.

What makes this hard is that when I visit, I expect to see the healthy person that I've known my whole life. And when that person is replaced by the older and needier version, my own selfish needs suddenly seem more important - or at least easier.

The bottom line is that I know my mother feels a lot worse than I do, both emotionally and physically. And as she moves on to the next level of life, so must I. And I'm finding that as the sick and aging go through denial and acceptance, so do the healthy.

The Facebook Curse

At my age, Facebook is a great tool to find and reconnect with long, lost friends.

However, at my age it's also one of the most annoying, addicting, time-wasting creations known to man. And yet, I still find myself each day prying into the lives of those who wish to share their every mundane thought.

On rare occassions I'l get a good laugh, or learn something worthwhile about someone, but most of the time I find myself just shaking my head, for more times than not I learn things about people that I would rather not know.

Through their own words, I have discovered through Facebook that certain family members and friends are immature, insecure, shallow, in constant need of attention, or just plain clueless.

Ultimately, it's my choice on whether or not to endure this torture, so I try to keep quiet, which for me isn't always easy. However, until I have the courage and strength to just walk away from Facebook, I guess I'll have to just keep shaking my head.

The Magic Inside Us

My father has been dead for over ten years now. And yet I see him often and speak with him frequently. It happens at night when I'm sleeping. It happens when I dream.

Everytime I have a dream that includes my family, my father is always in it as if he had never died. Apparently my sub-conscious thinks he's still alive, or in denial, or something of that nature. Whatever it is, it has been occuring at least once a month for over ten years.

 I can't remember any of those dreams now, but when I have them they are so vivid that I always awake thinking that he is still around. After a moment or two I realize it was all a dream.

This doesn't make me sad. It makes me happy - happy to be with him again. It might be in the form of a dream, but they feel like the real thing. And I'll take that over nothing any day.

Mistletoe And Me

Movies and ones own imagination make mistletoe very romantic. In my single days I would daydream of meeting a beautiful stranger at a Christmas party. In this daydream we would suddenly discover that we were standing under the mistletoe and then look lovingly into each others eyes before that first memorable kiss.

When I was around eighteen I had the opportunity to make this daydream a reality. I was at probably my first party that didn't include high school kids that I knew. In fact I hardly knew anyone. Many of the people there were older (twenties) and there were a lot of attractive women.

It was Christmas time and everyone was in a festive mood. I started talking to this young woman. I was shy and at that age if a woman spoke to me I instantly liked her.

I felt that the conversation was going smoothly, although the entire time I kept wondering to myself what I would talk about next. My gut feeling was that there was no chemistry between us, but I ignored that because she was not only pretty, but talking to me as well.

And that's when I noticed it. We were standing right below the mistletoe. I knew right then and there that this was the opportunity of a lifetime. I took advantage of a pause in the conversation and remember saying to this woman in my best romantic voice, "Do you realize that we're standing under the mistletoe?"

What happened next will stay with me forever. She looked me right in the eye and said, "Well then, I guess we better move." And so we did.

It was an early lesson in heartbreak, brought on by my own imagination.

Sexy Underwear

Years ago I knew a guy who would shower his girlfriend with gifts for every occassion. Whether it be her birthday, Valentines Day, Christmas or any type of anniversary one could come up with, he would spend a lot of money on her with all types of presents.

Among all of the gifts she would recieve, one gift was always some sort of sexy underwear.

One day I pointed out to him that sexy underwear is not really a gift for her, it's more of a gift for him.

His reply was something I will always remember. He said:

"If she puts on the sexy underwear and it's comfortable, then it is a gift for her. If it is uncomfortable, then it is a gift for me."

This kind of makes sense in an odd sort of way.

Ladies - I'm Talking to You

I have a complaint.

Why is it, that most women leave the toilet seat up after they are finished in the bathroom? There are two lids, you know - the round one that you sit on, and the lid with no hole. A bathroom looks a lot classier when you don't have to look at an open toilet. Ladies, I'm surprised and a little bit shocked that you haven't noticed this.

Or is it that you are just too busy criticizing men for leaving one lid up that you don't realize yourself that the other lid should be closed as well.

Now I'm aware that many women have this same complaint against men, but I happen to be a man that always closes both lids when I'm finished, therefore giving me the right to complain. So there.

The Truthful Friend

My first decade - ages one to ten, I was pretty clueless to the real world around me.

My second decade - ages eleven to twenty, I thought I knew everything, but in hindsight, I was more clueless than I was in my first decade.

My third decade - ages twenty-one to thirty, I thought I had it all together, until that nasty hindsight showed up again and made me realize that I didn't really know what I was doing at all.

My fourth decade - ages thirty-one to forty, I became more responsible, but once again was shown the truth by my old friend hindsight.

My fifth decade - ages forty-one to fifty, I did better, but hindsight proved once again that I was not perfect.

And now in my sixth decade, at age fifty plus, I feel that I have learned from all of my mistakes. Of course, I'll have to wait another ten years to find out if I'm right. 

The Date That Never Was

I was in this acting class in New York City back in the days in which I was an actor. In this particular class there was a very beautiful girl. She was a professional model, but wanted to take some acting classes so that when her modeling career was over, she would have something to fall back on.

She lived right next to the subway I needed to take to get home, so every night after class we would walk together on our way to our separate apartments. This went on for months.

She was a talker and loved to talk about her boyfriend. On the night of our last class, she asked me if I could come over Saturday night and she would cook me dinner - just me. I asked about her boyfriend and she told me that they had broken up.

My first thought was that she wasn't really over her boyfriend and that she would be using me for rebound purposes. And for a twenty two year-old male, this was great news.

On the night of our dinner date, I arrived with wine and wearing my very best silk shirt. After all, this was the 1970's. Well, actually it was 1981, but things hadn't really changed yet.

We were having a great time, until her phone rang. She was on the phone for at least forty-five minutes and when she came back into the room she told me that it was her ex-boyfriend on the other line. Apparently, he had wanted to come over, but she told him that she had a dinner guest and didn't have enough food.

So the night went on for a little while longer, until there was a knock at her door. It was her ex-boyfriend and he had brought his own steak to cook. I knew then that I was in trouble, but was determined not to be the first one to leave.

Everytime she would leave the room, he would say to me that he was not going home. I took this as a challenge and decided that I would not budge from her couch.

Dinner was awkard and after dinner was worse. I was obviously the odd man out and everyone knew it. She finally asked me if I could leave and by that time I was happy to oblige her.

I saw her about three years later - on television. She was in a commercial for Tampons. True story.

A Tale Of Two Grandfathers

Unlike the youth of today, I only had two grandfathers - my mothers dad and my fathers.

My fathers parents were immigrants from Sicily. And although my grandmother spoke very good English, I could never really understand my grandfather. He knew a few words, like boy and dog, but most of the time it was a combination of Italian and broken English, which as a child made no sense to me.

As I grew into my teen years, I became self-absorbed in my own life and a grandparent that I couldn't understand was not a priority to me. When he died, I was sad, but it wasn't until I got older that I realized the opportunity that I lost never getting to know him.

My other grandfather I knew very well because he lived with us. We would always watch football together on Sunday afternoons and we both also shared a love of movies. He would go to the movies every Saturday night by himself and the next day I could hardly wait to find out which movie he saw. He loved James Bond and he hated "Easy Rider" which I remember was the last movie he ever saw.

I also remember the last time I ever saw him alive. My parents were out of town and they had hired an elderly woman to stay with us. I remember it was around three in the morning and I had woken up because I had heard a noise downstairs. When I went downstairs I saw my grandfather on a gurney being taken outside to an ambulance that was parked outside.

My grandfather saw me and started yelling (and I mean yelling) at me to "go back to bed."

Two days later, he died.

I was never upset that he yelled at me. Even then at twelve years of age I understood why. I have often wondered, though, if during his last days alone in his hospital bed if he felt bad about yelling at me. I hope he knew that I understood.

I also wonder what my Italian grandfather thought about never really knowing his grandchildren. I was too young to know if he ever made an effort, but I would bet money that he did.

Sad memories from my youth that haunt me still today.

Words Of Humor, Words Of Hurt

With the invention of "caller id" and the extinction of the pay phone, it looks like the art of the prank phone call has joined the ranks of the "remember when" group.

Making prank phone calls was a happy part of my youth. I wasn't very good at it, but a kid in our neighborhood was. At age twelve, his voice had already changed, so when he called some unsuspecting poor soul under the identity of a radio show giving away a color television, we not only laughed at that moment, but were also entertained every time the subject came up.

I used to like to go to the phone book and pick out a name at random and then call that person and act like I was a long lost friend. The conversation usually ended with me hanging up to cover up the fact that I was about ready to laugh.

My brother liked to call the pizza restaurants and ask them for a list of toppings and then order a pizza with a topping they didn't have - like dog food.

Like anything, though, good fun can get out of control - and when that happens, well, anything can happen.

For us boys under the age of thirteen, what started out as harmless fun would often turn into something hurtful under the pretense of trying to be funny - like the time we called up an elderly woman and told her that we were going to rob her house.

Prank phone calls are a thing of the past, but words still tend to get out of control. Then and now, people of every age say and do stupid things. Unfortunately, many people are too old to blame it on youth.

Crushed

When I was in eighth grade I had a crush on a girl that didn't know I existed. I remember I would always take the long way to certain classes so that I would pass her in the hallways. I would always look at her to try to make eye contact. On the rare occassion that she would look back at me, I would smile and she would then always look away.

A few weeks ago I was at a restaurant and this girl that I had a crush on 38 years ago just happened to be sitting in the booth across from me. I avoided eye contact with her while I was eating my meal. When it was time for me to leave, I got up and glanced at her.

Right when I looked at her, she looked at me. I smiled and she turned away. I guess somethings never change.

Plugging Websites

Everybody has a favorite website. I have three.

For me, the most useful one can be found at: http://www.oneminutewriter.blogspot.com/
If you enjoy writing and would like to get better at it, then this is the place to go. Each day there is a topic to write about and a little timer in the upper right hand corner to time yourself if you please. There are some very good writers who contribute to this and I always have fun either reading the short thoughts of others or joining in on the fun myself. For anyone who writes, this website is a must.

If you are into the personal side of history then I highly recommend http://www.lettersofnote.com/
Each day a new letter is posted - often times from a famous person from the past. I've read letters that have been written from Stan Laurel to JFK. These letters take you back in time and give the reader an insight into what some of the biggest names in history were really like.

And finally, if you like baseball or want to learn more about it, look no farther than http://www.mlb.com/
This website is the true meaning of "fun on a rainy day." You can literally spend hours on this site either playing all kinds of baseball games or reading up on your favorite player or team.

So why waste your time with all of the shallow folk on Facebook? With the three websites listed above, you now can not only grow in your knowledge, but you can have fun while you're doing it.

The Hassles Of Avoiding The Flu

Apparently, my local medical community wants me to get the flu, for they have been no help what-so-ever in my inquiries about flu shots.

It started last night when I called my local convenient care. The conversation went something like this.

ME: Hi, I was wondering where I need to go to get a flu shot.

C. CARE: We don't do that here.

ME: Can you tell me where I can go?

C. CARE: Look on our web site.

ME: You can't just tell me where I can get a flu shot?

C. CARE: It's in our brochure. You can come by and pick one up.

I didn't bother talking to this man anymore, as it was clear he didn't want to help me. So I then went to the web site, which I might add, was very confusing. I found a number to the Flu Clinic, so I called it. The conversation went like this.

ME: Hi, I need some information on where I can get a flu shot.

FLU CLINIC: Do you have a primary doctor?

ME: Yes, I do.

FLU CLINIC: Then call him.

Well, I'm no dummy. I would have called my doctor in the first place, but I remember last year he sent me to a local flu clinic, so I didn't think he needed to be bothered. Anyway, I called the office of my primary doctor. Here is how the conversation went.

ME: Hi, can I make an appointment to get a flu shot?

NURSE: No. You need to go to a flu clinic.

ME: I just called a flu clinic and they told me to call you.

NURSE: That's because everyone is out of shots. Call back next week.

I guess I have to wait. I did notice a sign at my local Walgreens for flu shots. Maybe I'll just go there. After all, they are a "drug" store.

My School

I went to Lincoln Grade School, Edison Jr. High, Champaign Central High School and Parkland College. All of those schools contributed to me learning social and academic skills. They didn't prepare me for the real world, though. I had to go to a different school for that.

That learning institute was called The School of Hard Knocks. The only requirement that you need to succeed in this school is the willinginess to laugh, love, dream, get angry, hurt and cry.

It's the only school I know of where failure and disappointment can lead to more knowledge. I recommend this school. It's not easy, but it will help you prepare for the erratic behavior of life.

The Doorman

Back in the late 1970's I lived in New York City. My apartment was just two blocks off of Broadway which was a busy street, so at night I only had two blocks to walk in an area that wasn't very safe.

There was a doorman to an apartment complex on one of those blocks. Everytime I would pass him late in the night he would always wave at me and I would wave back.

I remember one night he wasn't there. I remember looking at my watch as I walked by and it was exactly midnight. The next day the New York television stations all reported about a doorman that was shot and killed around midnight the night before. They mentioned the address, so I went down the street to see if it was the address where the doorman worked. It was.

I often wonder what would have have happened if I had walked by that apartment just a few minutes earlier.