Kitchen Tips

1. It seems counterintuitive but using a dull knife in the kitchen is more dangerous than handling a sharp knife. That's because sharp knives slice through food smoothly while dull blades catch and require more force, often causing them to twist sideways in unexpected directions, sometimes toward your hand. For this reason we should always keep our kitchen knives sharp.

This is easily accomplished. It involves two processes: (1) sharpening a knife and (2) honing its blade. The two differ in what they achieve and the tools used for them. You use a sharpener for sharpening and a rod for honing. Both tools are inexpensive and belong in your kitchen drawer. Instructions on their use are readily available on the Internet.

2. I drink copious quantities of tea. For variety I add flavors to tea which is easy and fun. My favorites are Star Anise (whole, not ground), Cardamom (ground, not whole) and Cinnamon (sticks, not ground). For sweetening, nothing is better than dark, rich maple syrup. I get mine by visiting a "sugarbush" in Vermont.

3. Most things are improved by a dash of hot sauce -- and oatmeal is among them. Try it!

Today's Holiday

Today has significance in history.

World War I ("the Great War") ended at 11:00 a.m. on the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918 (11/11/18). WWI was a horrible experience: 14 million died, many in agony from wounds inflicted by new, terrible weapons (e.g., mustard gas).

The following year U.S. President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed November 11th "Armistice Day" to honor the end of that War and the soldiers who served in it. Later, in 1954 our Congress changed the holiday to "Veterans Day" to honor all military veterans. Unlike Memorial Day which remembers veterans who died in service, Veterans Day honors everyone who served whether they survived or not.

My dad fought in Korea (early 1950s) and got accelerated naturalized citizenship as a reward.

Perspective

Echoing ideas from many philosophers and some other scientists, NASA astrophysicist Natalie Batalha recently said that we, sentient beings endowed with consciousness, are “the universe itself becoming aware.” 

I've heard this notion several times from minds like Alan Watts and ancient Taoists. It's worth considering seriously as a starting point for contemplation.

Prom Photos

Almost two decades ago when I was in my early-50s I started blogging. First on LiveJournal, then here. The goal of those blogs was to explore my femininity and share female experiences with friends. I felt a profoundly deep urge to do this and remedy a painful absence of such experiences in my earlier life.

The effort was a success. I discovered many important things and made many new friends. I'm proud of the first ten years of my blog. Even though those posts are still accessible today, nobody ever reads them except me. 

One of my ideas back then was to create new experiences to replace ones I and others never had. Talking to people I asked about teenage proms and frequently heard regret -- sadness that people didn't have a magical prom experience. Since I too hadn't had a prom experience, I suggested re-creating proms in adulthood to make up for lost ones of youth. The idea seemed a healthy, positive way of dealing with regret.

The result was "The Prom Project", a major post of Herculean effort. In 2011 I bought two prom dresses, created two pretty outfits and mounted a massive photoshoot in a friend's backyard. Unlike all my other posts where I photographed myself while simultaneously modeling, this post was photographed by a friend, enabling us to create nicer pictures.

The post still stands (here) but, for unknown reason, the Internet removed images in many posts for about a year. Fortunately I have offline copies of the prom photos which I want to now re-post. Here are the pictures from 15 years ago. Remember that I was 53 back then, younger than I am today but decades older than a typical prom-goer. I did the best I could to re-create a prom experience and these photos are the manifestation of that.

Birthday Gifts

Robin and I have a deal. For our birthdays we tell each other what we want and don't make the other person guess when selecting gifts. This ensures receiving items that are desired and not wasteful.

I just got two wonderful presents. Not expensive but precisely what I want: a bold casual watch and a well-designed film camera.

The watch (Movado Bold Verso S) fills a hole in my life. I have fancier watches for special occasions but need a timepiece for normal life. I like this watch's vibrant blue color and sporty style.

The camera (Kodak Snapic A1) is a *new* device that uses film and is made by the historic company. (Remember Kodak from your youth?) Well-designed, the camera is easy to use and does what I want it to. My other film cameras are over 30 years old so having a newly manufactured product is good for reliability. I recommend this item for anyone interested in exploring film photography. Try it!

The Big Day

10, 9, 8... 3, 2, 1!

!!! Birthday !!!

Happy Halloween!

The Winning Streak

After last night's victory over Dallas, we're up to five wins. Five wins with the bun!

Devils Juju

This is funny. Have you heard how some athletes and sports fans get superstitious about winning? Like, when their team is doing well, they don't change their underwear?

Well... the NJ Devils' television announcer is a bright attractive woman named Rachel Herzog. Rachel understands hockey better than most fans and is delightful to listen to for sports insight.

Recently, bucking convention, Rachel started wearing her hair up in a bun while announcing. That's a controversial look in the sports world. Since that time the Devils have won four straight games. Rachel (and I) attribute the winning streak to her hair-style. Neither of us believe she should change it until the streak ends. 🤣

Sands Point Preserve (Long Island, NY)

New photos from a blind guy.

I'm back in the saddle, swinging an old piece of plastic in every direction. The machinery was cheap when birthed 55 years ago and, unlike me, has gotten no better with age. No electronics, electricity or other modern aid, just chemicals and creativity.

Words

The English language is quirky. There are rules but often exceptions. That can be confusing.

Here's an example. Usually the prefix "un-" indicates a word means the opposite of the same word without the prefix. Common/uncommon; usual/unusual. But that isn't always the case.

There are words we see frequently but don't really know their meaning. "Uncanny" is a good example. If you don't know what uncanny means and guess at it from context, you're likely wrong. Also, "uncanny" does not mean the opposite of "canny". Their meanings are wholly unrelated. Do you know what the two words mean?

"Uncanny" describes something strange or mysterious, often extraordinary or supernatural. "Canny" refers to a person who's smart or shrewd and profits from the trait.

Now you know. 👻

Wonder

"Wonder, and its expression in poetry and the arts, are among the most important things which seem to distinguish men from other animals, and intelligent and sensitive people from morons." 

  - Alan Watts (1966)

Annie Dillard

Annie Dillard, who died last month (81), was a well-known American writer. In a dozen books she explored nature and its mystical meanings. Her most famous book, "Pilgrim at Tinker Creek", won a Pulitzer Prize in 1975. It is often taught in literature classes.

Rather than describe Annie's writing, let me share some of her masterpiece's most trenchant passages:

- If the landscape reveals one certainty, it is that the extravagant gesture is the very stuff of creation. After the one extravagant gesture of creation in the first place, the universe has continued to deal exclusively in extravagances, flinging intricacies and colossi down aeons of emptiness, heaping profusions on profligacies with ever-fresh vigor. The whole show has been on fire from the word go. 

- I walk out; I see something, some event that would otherwise have been utterly missed and lost; or something sees me, some enormous power brushes me with its clean wing, and I resound like a beaten bell.

- It is dire poverty indeed when a man is so malnourished and fatigued that he won’t stoop to pick up a penny. But if you cultivate a healthy poverty and simplicity, so that finding a penny will literally make your day, then, since the world is in fact planted in pennies, you have with your poverty bought a lifetime of days. It is that simple. What you see is what you get.

- It is possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind. Light, be it particle or wave, has force: you rig a giant sail and go. The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.

- Somewhere, and I can’t find where, I read about an Eskimo hunter who asked the local missionary priest, “If I did not know about God and sin, would I go to Hell?” “No” said the priest, “not if you did not know.” “Then why” asked the Eskimo earnestly “did you tell me?”

Hermès

Anyone here have experience with Hermès? 

I dove down a rabbit hole recently after reading a fascinating article in The New Yorker on this French company. I like that the company is two centuries old, still family-owned and cares deeply about quality. They honor their founding focus on horses with contemporary leather goods (the coveted Birkin bag, obviously) and show equestrian influence on fashion by, for example, incorporating leather harnesses into women's clothing. The company expanded into menswear in 1984 and has a hip new designer for that growing department. Who doesn't want to look French?

Have you ever seen Hermès scarves? Handbags? (Check out this article.)

Oh, and if you want to sound cool, pronounce Hermès the correct way: "air-mess".

My Birthday, Your Opportunity.

It's that annual moment of decision: choosing how to convey birthday greetings to a good friend (in this case, me). You can choose Option A, which involves some effort, or Option B, which requires nearly none. The salient thing to realize is that while your choice nominally appears to reflect on the friend, what it really reveals is YOUR character. How you choose to act is who you are. Who do you want to be?

Option A

Your friend has a birthday coming up soon (Nov. 3). You can:

1. Examine your relationship with the friend, assess its value to you, and ponder how he would react to a kind gesture. Taking into account the recent circumstances and experiences of the friend is encouraged. Also relevant are whether the friend sent you a birthday card in the past and remembering how you felt receiving one.

2. Decide to send that friend a real birthday greeting. No, not an online click but an actual card. Made of paper. Possibly humorous. Signed by hand. Mailed with a stamp.

3. Imagine your friend laughing at the funny card in his hand, feeling grateful for the effort you made to send it, and ultimately warmed by a little love from you. Imagine that. Is that a world you want to live in? Where friends love each other? You can create it. Or not. Shape the world by your actions.

4. With three weeks available plan your approach. Contemplate which nearby stores sell cute cards. Figure out when you'll be swinging by one of them. There's plenty of time to include a store visit in your life so there's no inconvenience.

5. Arrive at the store. Look through the cards, chuckling often. Select a card whose message and imagery you believe the recipient will enjoy. Feel proud of your knowledge of the friend's sense of humor.

6. Take the card home. A week or so before B-day pull the card out, laugh again at its humor and sign your name to the card. If inclined add a short note.

7. Find the friend's address and write it on the envelope. If necessary, you can ask him; he'll be happy to supply it. Record the information so you won't be flummoxed in the future.

8. Before dropping the card off at the Post Office or mailbox put a stamp on the envelope. If you don't have a stamp, get thee to a nunnery! Actually, that was in Shakespeare's time: today we buy stamps at the Post Office. Ask the teller which interesting stamps are available. If you plan ahead you can buy super-cool stamps online from the Postal Service, such as new ones celebrating Route 66 and car culture.

9. Mail the card. Sit back and relax. Feel proud of yourself.

10. Enjoy a deeper friendship from which you will get a reciprocal birthday card in the future.

Option B

Foregoing the above effort, on the day of my birthday you can merely "like" a Facebook post mentioning me. That's all: one click. Job done, obligation fulfilled.

Yes, that's easy, requires no planning, but... you'll know, in your heart of hearts, you could have done more. Pushed a little harder, expended a little effort. Shown your friend you truly care and not just performed this social act in the laziest possible way.

As with all of life, the choice is yours. No one else dictates how you should behave (unless your mother is still alive). Remember your life is what you choose to make it... and no more. Your relationships are only as deep as you respect them. Act with care.

New Job

Sometimes when we learn new words we don't merely improve our vocabulary but actually expand our knowledge. An example of this were my discoveries last year of the differences between: (1) a mystic and a shaman and (2) an anchorite/anchoress (male/female), hermit and monk.

A mystic travels inward for spiritual awakening, seeking unity with nature or the divine. A shaman, by contrast, looks outward and acts as spiritual leader for a community. 

While both explore non-ordinary realms and ultimate truths, they possess different focuses and use different methods. Mystics rely on quiet contemplation, prayer and solitary meditation. Shamans enter altered states of consciousness through psychedelics, drumming or chants. Mystics are solitary; shamen are social leaders mediating between physical and spirit worlds.

So what are anchorites/anchoresses, hermits and monks? Well, the difference lies in where they live. An anchorite/anchoress spends all his/her time in a tiny walled cell attached to a church. They never leave the cell (called an anchorhold). Hermits live alone in the wilderness and retain freedom to move around. Monks live in groups with other monks.

You may wonder why I was inquiring about these things. I was considering new job opportunities and living arrangements.  😇

"Breezy"

A surprising number of films are overlooked for reasons other than lack of merit. Some are poorly marketed, some are foolishly pulled from distribution for business decisions unrelated to art (e.g., to create a tax loss).

One such film is "Breezy", a 1973 labor of love by Clint Eastwood. Clint directs the movie but doesn't appear in it. The film was barely released and obviously not marketed properly. The studio didn't get behind the film so it died at the box office despite getting good critical reviews. This fate is unfortunate because the film is certainly worth watching. Happily it's now available on streaming (Amazon Prime).

The story is about a jaded older man (in his fifties) who encounters a drifting young woman (20-ish). After several encounters the two slowly fall in love despite the older man's skepticism. This is certainly a May-December romance but handled with more delicacy than usual. Also there's significant nudity which is sensitively presented. The actors are well-known: William Holden and then-newcomer Kay Lenz. (Three years later Lenz married teen heart-throb David Cassidy of "The Partridge Family." Her star went up, his went down and their marriage crumbled as a result.)

I enjoyed this film. The acting is superb and the plot plausible. A romance with a happy ending, something rare these days.

Catwoman

I admit this freely -- when I was nine years old I fell in love with Julie Newmar, an actress who played Catwoman on the "Batman" TV show (1966-67). I found Catwoman irresistibly beautiful. When, on the show, she fell into a vat of acid and died, I sobbed. Real tears. Tears of inconsolable grief.

After her successful acting career Julie achieved additional heights in other fields. She invented several products -- for which she received three U.S. patents -- and brokered high-end real estate in California. She prospered from both endeavors.

Julie is still alive today. She's 93 years old and reasonably healthy. She has a neurological condition that limits her mobility so she uses a scooter but she's mentally sound. Julie lives with and cares for her adult son who is both deaf and has Downs Syndrome. They spend their days gardening and painting colorful pictures. She says they're very happy.

Six decades after "Batman" I'm still in love with Julie Newmar. :)

Believe it or not Julie has a new book coming out next month. It's called "More Than Catwoman: The Fearless Lives of Julie Newmar." In her memoir Julie "invites readers to live fearlessly at every age." You can pre-order a copy on Amazon. I did.

Confront Life

“Do you have the courage to bring forth the treasures that are hidden within you?” asks writer Elizabeth Gilbert. "[W]e are all walking repositories of buried treasure....The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them."

The hunt to uncover those jewels is living creatively. The courage to go on that quest separates an enchanted existence from a mundane one.

Philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900) believed confronting difficulty is essential to a fulfilling life. In 1873 he wrote:

"Any human being who does not wish to be part of the masses need only stop making things easy for himself. Let him follow his conscience, which calls out to him: 'Be yourself!'"

"There is no way to help any soul attain...happiness...so long as it remains shackled with the chains of opinion and fear....How hopeless and meaningless life can become without such a liberation. There is no drearier, sorrier creature in nature than the man who has evaded his own genius."

As Picasso advised “to know what you’re going to draw, you have to begin drawing.” Nietzsche counsels:

"No one can build you the bridge on which you, and only you, must cross the river of life. There may be countless trails and bridges and demigods who would gladly carry you across, but only at the price of pawning and forgoing yourself. There is one path in the world that none can walk but you. Where does it lead? Don’t ask, walk!"

I hear ya, Freddie.

Vermont

Robin and I just returned from a trip to rural Vermont. We visited casual acquaintances and transformed them into good friends. Plus we visited a terrific "sugarbush" (Morse Farm) where we tasted delicious maple syrup and hot sauce.

It was our first time travelling since recent medical cataclysms. We learned how difficult some activities are now. For example, in the past I performed ALL piloting of our cars and motorcycles -- and was well-accustomed to the aggravation and exhaustion of fighting traffic near NYC. For Robin, that was a new experience. She had a tough time with it: at one point (when a dashboard warning light popped on) Robin wanted to turn the car around and return home. I needed to calm her down and reassure that all's fine and safe. In the past she may have taken for granted the effort I'd put into our travel.

A benefit of the trip was stimulating conversation about where we'd like to live in the future. New England has always appealed to me and is now a leading contender. Only when you visit the area do you see its immense contrast to suburban New York. Less traffic, less rude people, less expense and more beautiful country. Our new friends live on nine acres -- NINE ACRES! -- for less than our house with 0.15 acres costs. Whew.

In Pursuit Of A Bagel

It's possible to find adventure anywhere if you try hard enough.

This morning I woke up at 4:30 a.m. (which is not unusual) and decided to walk a mile to a bagel store to buy their fine bread product. If you arrive when the store opens at 5 a.m. there's no line of customers -- that annoyance starts later on Sunday mornings. Despite being on one of Long Island's busiest commercial roads (Route 110), the store and streets are empty this early except for Spanish-speaking staff at the store. They always greet me enthusiastically but probably wonder "What's this gringo doing up so early? This is when only we have to be out of bed."

Did I mention that, at this hour, it's pitch-black? (Sunrise is 6:32 a.m.) Did I mention that it is pouring rain? (I brought an umbrella.) Heading out I anticipated (correctly) that my feet would get soaked up to the calves (multiple unseen puddles) and my ankles were at constant risk of getting sprained from ubiquitous potholes on the edge of the roadway. (There's no sidewalk.)

I make it to the store, succeed with the purchase, and head home. All good, right? Not exactly. Remember the dark streets? Heavy rain? Mr. Magoo eyesight?

I reach home -- or what I think is my home and... What the...? It's not my house. The number on the mailbox is mine but it definitely is not my house. Hmm... After walking up and down the street a few times I finally realize I turned down the wrong block. This is not Somerset Street. In the darkness I can't see anything except mailboxes so I didn't suspect my mistake until now. Okay, so I walk around, find the right block and am finally able to peel off soaked sneakers, socks and pants. All this for a bagel.

I didn't expect the expedition to be so challenging, but that's life in the slow lane.

"True Stories"

To conventional minds the weird seems strange. Inexplicable. But to outsiders and those open to considering more than adherence to convention, the weird is fertile soil. Full of interesting, even arresting possibility. 

I'm drawn toward unusual art, including films which are hard for many to grasp. Traditional movies lead viewers by the nose with formulaic plots and manipulative mood music. So if that's your experience and expectation for a film, you're ill-equipped to enjoy weird cinema. It breaks the rules of convention which can be discomforting. You have to expand to appreciate it, not the other way around. It wasn't created as pablum for toddlers.

"True Stories" (1986) was made by David Byrne of Talking Heads. It describes normal life in a Texas town with a surrealistic point-of-view. Everything, both content and visuals, is off-kilter, normal on the surface but with vague suggestions of mystery and deviance.

I like it. Your mileage may vary (YMMV). 

Returning To Photography

I created this casual portrait of Robin earlier this year with my vintage 1972 Kodak Instamatic 30 camera loaded with 110-cartridge film. We were in Ocean City, New Jersey, obviously alone due to the cold.

I carefully planned the picture's composition to move the viewer's eye around, first from the left side to the center and then to the lower right side where -- surprise! -- Robin's smile awaits. The success of this image reassures me that even with severe visual impairments I can still create photographs of artistic aspiration. 

The 'Ber Months

Happy 'Ber Months! (Septem-ber to Decem-ber)

Every year I get to celebrate my birthday (Nov. 3) and favorite holiday (Halloween) the same week. The arrival of September reminds us to start thinking about Halloween costumes. 

What'll yours be this year? Be wild and creative!

I'm considering... James Gandolfini (as Tony Soprano) with Robin as Carmela, Tom Wolfe (author & boulevardier), Jack Hughes (USA/Devils hockey star), Tim Curry (as Dr. Frank-N-Furter) and, of course, Dolly Parton. Although Dolly was a foot shorter than me, with her big hair she reached the same height. :)

Recovering My Mojo

Last May, at the beginning of Summer, I declared an intention to return to photography. I hadn't taken a picture in three years (since my eyesight went south). 

I admitted apprehension because my one attempt to take photos after vision loss was a disaster. My eyesight is really, really bad. But... as we bikers say, it's the journey, not the destination. Since childhood I've loved photography, especially with film. I want to re-claim that joy even if the results are poor. After all I'm doing it just for myself: I'm not a professional artist or trying to sell anything. I can live with mediocre images as long as creating them is fun. And it is.

Over the Summer I took my vintage 1972 Kodak Instamatic 30, loaded it with 110-cartridge film and ventured out to the world. I believe I crafted a few photos worth sharing. I'll post them in about two weeks after the film negatives are developed and scanned. (I use the aptly-named "Old School Photo Lab" in New Hampshire.)

Age Groups

You've probably heard reference to age groups like Baby Boomers, Gen Z, etc. but do you know how to distinguish between them? It's important knowledge if you want to talk about them publicly. Here's a primer:

- Baby Boomers are born between 1946-1964. They're currently 61-79 years old. There are 75 million in the U.S. including me. :)

- Gen X are born between 1965-1980, are currently 45-60 years old and include 65 million people

- Millennials are born between 1981-1996, are currently 29-44 years old and include 75 million folk

- Gen Z are born between 1997-2012, are currently 13-28 years old and include 70 million people

- Gen Alpha starts with children born between 2012-2024. They're currently 2-14 years old. There are 50 million of the little creatures. 

- Gen Beta are babies/toddlers born in 2025-2039.

What are you?

Our Lives

I've seen highs, I've experienced lows. Both were more extreme than I imagined possible.

The philosophy I've developed is, without consciously realizing it, essentially Taoist. Observe everything. Learn as much as you can. Cherish small pleasures. Roll when punched hard. And, finally, see with your mind, not your eyes.

I've come to believe that everything is connected. We may not always grasp this because our perception is limited; we are, after all, primitive animals. But we are part of the universe -- inherently tied to everything else in it including two trillion star galaxies. The plain fact of reality should enliven us, give us hope and serenity. We are meant to be here and, during our short lifetimes, are waves cresting in a big, beatific ocean.

Progress Report

Captain's Log, Stardate 2445.3

Our mission to repair the critical time-line breach progresses. My covert return to 21st Century Earth is yielding useful information. Inhabitants of this era are, as history records, remarkably irrational. Their society is chaotic and one readily grasps how The Second Civil War started in 2029. If it wasn't for First Contact with orbiting Vulcan spacecraft during that intractable war it's doubtful this planet would have survived in any time-line. Humans possess enough technology to save or destroy their world but seem to lack sufficient wisdom to avoid the latter fate.

Universal skills promoting peace and self-development (e.g., empathy, compassion) are in short supply here. Instead of confronting the real cause of political oppression (an entrenched economic class system) people quarrel with others in similar or worse circumstances as they compete for limited resources. Without insight or unity these Earthlings can't understand or correct their plight. Anxiety and rage are on full display in public places, especially roadways, where motorists recklessly vie to "get somewhere" at faster speed than prudent. This species cannot be trusted with warp-drive energy prior to receiving extensive genetic augmentation. (See, however, Khan Noonien Singh.)

My plan to infiltrate the existing power structure continues. I've mastered cultural knowledge necessary to persuade numerous inhabitants to assist me in this effort. My next move is to acquire a professional sporting team since athletics is valued here not for personal achievement but as secular religion with rituals and mystical significance. Fans worship "the baseball gods" and related deities. Sports gambling, once forbidden, now flourishes openly. The majority of young men now divert scarce long-term investment capital to bet on sporting events where, predictably, they lose their money. Loss of such funds cripples the imprudent leading to widespread poverty and social instability. Humans, it appears, do not comprehend the well-established Dunning-Kruger Effect.

Captain out.

The Ravages of Time

If you think of me as an old blind man, you might be surprised to learn that 25 years ago I was a catch. A moderately handsome guy with a soupçon of style.

For the plaintiff, we offer Exhibit A into evidence. A photograph from August 2001. The exhibit speaks for itself.

We rest our case. :)

Light Reading

Lately I've been studying heavy tomes on abstruse subjects like physics and neuroscience. To give myself a break I'm now reading a series of fun books by George Plimpton. They're an amuse-bouche, light refreshment to stimulate my mental palate.

These books were popular in the 1960s and '70s. George Plimpton, a literary gentleman, wondered what it would be like to play sports with professional athletes. At the time George was an out-of-shape amateur who hadn't done anything physical since college -- and was mediocre even then. What interested George were the visceral experiences of meeting pros on their turf, facing reality instead of fantasy.

In Yankee Stadium George pitched to baseball greats Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle and a dozen others ("Out Of My League"). On the gridiron, George quarterbacked for the Detroit Lions ("Paper Lion"). He even climbed into a boxing ring and went a few rounds with a champion fighter. And he was a hockey goalie for the Boston Bruins ("Open Net"). These feats were initially published as articles in Sports Illustrated and later turned into bestselling books. "Paper Lion" was turned into a movie starring Alan Alda.

Every sports fan has Walter Mitty fantasies of being on the playing field in heated battle. "It's the bottom of the ninth inning and..." George faced those situations up close and his observations about them are very amusing. 

Riding Buddy

I've met many people in my life. Some are more memorable than others.

Thirty years ago I started riding motorcycles. At the time I didn't know other bikers so I went out and looked for some. I started hanging out at a biker bar in Valley Stream ("The Clubhouse"). The bar was conspicuously rough and seedy. Patrons engaged in sex in the basement, drunks got rip-roaringly intoxicated every night of the week and pool games sometimes ended in fistfights. I always arrived on my bike wearing motorcycle gear, announcing my enthusiasm for motorcycling. Often I traveled in very cold weather, conveying my commitment to living like a badass. Patrons frequently insisted on going outside to inspect my motorcycle "'cause only a lunatic would ride in the ass of Winter."

Before long I befriended the owners, all of whom belonged to a local motorcycle club. After many late nights drinking, tossing darts and shooting pool I developed good friendships. They, of course, steered me toward their M/C which I joined. After probation (several group rides and club meetings) I was admitted to the club. After the first year I got an award for "Most Enthusiastic Member." Two years later I was elected club President and, the year after that, was re-elected for a second term. 

One of the owners, Rich Culmone, became my closest friend. I enjoyed Rich for his rare combination of social deviance and personal generosity. His background is full of eccentric employments and activities. Rich's demeanor is tough and intimidating, yet he's a sweet guy at heart. If you are his friend, as I am, there is absolutely nothing he won't do for you. Rich will take a bullet -- or shoot one -- to protect you. Plus Rich's girlfriend (later wife) Roberta is cheery and delightful.

Since I was new to motorcycling there was plenty I didn't know. Rich taught me gobs about riding and how to be a biker. By example and through advice he rapidly transformed me from a tyro to an old hand. He taught me about biker culture, outlaw clubs, what "81" means, and how to deal with criminals and low-lifes. This was all new to me.

At the time I rode locally every day but hadn't been on any long trips. My first was initiated by Rich and it was a huge learning experience. Rich was planning to ride by himself from New York to Montana to attend the annual BMW Motorrad rally. I could squeeze eight days off work so I decided to join him, traveling as far west as I could in four days (which turned out to be North Dakota) before turning around and coming home alone. I covered 4,000 miles during those eight days, passing through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Canada and North Dakota.

The trip was amazing. My first surprise was when we were leaving: Rich said we had to make a quick stop so he could "get some bullets." Bullets?! Rich bought ammo which alerted me to the fact he was "packing" on the trip. 

A second surprise was crossing the longest suspension bridge in the world: the Mackinac Bridge in Michigan. We arrived at the bridge in a windy rainstorm just after the sun had gone down. Minutes later bridge operators lit a sign saying "No Motorcycles" due to the hazardous conditions but we were already on the bridge-span. Wind was so strong that it pushed our bikes sideways toward involuntary lane-changes. I could barely see the road but was aware that the outer guardrail was lower than my motorcycle. Riding with white knuckles I spent eternity wrestling with the likely possibility of being blown off the bridge and falling thousands of feet to a watery death. Later, after getting to the other side, I stopped at a gas station and mentioned this to an old woman at the counter. She said "Yeah, we lose a few cars off the bridge every year."

Riding across the bridge Rich was sure I was gonna die. He worried my family would blame him for putting me, an inexperienced rider, in that dangerous situation. Rich cares for me and would have felt terrible watching me get blown overboard to a watery death but, in truth, there was nothing he could do to prevent it. We were stuck in a real "ride or die" quandary.

After four days on the road with Rich I returned home by myself. The first four days prepared me to solo-ride long distance. I didn't have the guts to do that when we started; Rich gave me the necessary confidence and aplomb. He helped me grow into a long-distance motorcycle rider.

I've stayed friends with Rich ever since then, even after he and Roberta moved to Las Vegas. He returns to New York to visit his daughter and includes seeing me during those visits. A few years ago Rich, like me, started suffering health problems which forced him to give up motorcycling. His charm, however, never disappeared. We joke on the phone and chat about old times, the club and fellow biker-buddies.

Thanks, Rich, for the kindness you've shown me. Keep the rubber side down, buddy.

My Parents

In 1956, seventy years ago, my parents (Ralph & Barbara Jo) got married.

Back then they watched "I Love Lucy" on a small black-and-white television set, listened to Elvis sing on 45 rpm vinyl records, and ate Cheez Whiz and Sloppy Joes. Cooking was adding mayonnaise to something. Dessert was Jell-O in a variety of shapes and colors. 

Like their friends, my parents smoked cigarettes and drank lots of liquor at boisterous parties in "finished basements". Furniture was "mid-century modern"; kitchen counters were easy-to-clean Formica.

My parents bought a house for $15,000 and cars for $1,000. Born into an unstable world in the 1930s, they were fortunate to later live through the greatest period of economic prosperity in our nation's history. They retired in their fifties and lived comfortably down in "sunny Florida" on a civil service pension.

I'm happy they had nice lives.

"The Human Cosmos"

Books, like toys, can be fun or educational.

I just finished the most informative book I've read in decades: "The Human Cosmos: Civilization and the Stars" by noted British science writer Jo Marchant (2020). The book, an award-winner, addresses a half-dozen important subjects with a through-line that makes sense. The work deepened my understanding of these topics, including my central obsession: what is reality?

While not a typical "beach read," the beach would be an appropriate place to enjoy this book. Like a sentient grain of sand, you can ponder your place in the colossal cosmos.

Psycho Bunny

Have you heard of Psycho Bunny?

It is, improbably, a hip brand of expensive menswear. Made with high-quality materials and real craftsmanship (100% Pima cotton from Peru), their polo shirts ($120) and t-shirts ($60) are worn by successful young men in middle age (30-40 years old). The brand is obviously irreverent, as shown by its odd name, weird logo and vivid colors. The clothes are edgy and made for "men who march to their own drummer." Hey, I resemble that remark!

There's one Psycho Bunny store on Long Island in the Roosevelt Field mall. I went there today and picked up a tee and polo shirt. Here's the front and back of the t-shirt. What do you think?