Happy New Year

I would like to wish all of you a very happy, safe, healthy and exciting new year. May your medical tests come back clean...may your jobs remain secure...may your bills be paid...may your pipes be full...may your coffee be fresh and hot...may your cats be well-fed.

9/11

Seven years ago today I saw smoke in the sky but no planes. I saw tears of sorrow and joy. Cars sitting at a park-and-ride waiting for drivers that would never return to claim them. People speeding down the highway blind to everything around them from tears as they turned up the radio. Cell phones being smashed by those who could not get through to their missing loved ones. Men with shotguns standing on rooftops. Chaos. Death. Destruction. Confusion.

Seven years ago today I saw a flag raised amongst the smoking ruins and dead bodies. Groups of strangers singing hymns together. People of all colors and ages join together to help those in need. Rich, poor, young, old, male, female, black, white. What was meant to destroy a nation gave it new life.

For those lost souls of 9/11/01
For those of us who were there and survived. For everyone affected by that horrible day.

God bless America.

"Getaway pt. 2"

Sitting in the smokey jazz cafe
Playing Gin Rummy until sunrise
We planned the stakeout carefully
Waiting for the order to come down

I puffed contentedly on my pipe
and watched events go down
Keeping my eyes low I pretended to watch my cards
Sipped the virgin rum and played it cool

Bossa Nova in full swing
A wisp of smoke rose from the bowl of my briar
The rebels were here but we went unnoticed
Maybe they came for the whiskey and the women

My pipe went out
The glass empty
We were made
Time to go
The jeeps were ready
Twenty paces stage left and we were rolling
A caravan of chaos

Dead Souls

Mama used to make a big feast on Sunday evenings complete with appetizers, several courses and at least four dessert choices. We kids would always try to get stray pieces of parmesean cheese while Papa hand-shaved a block for the bruschetta. Unlike most Italian families we never had any wine at the table. We never had any alcohol in the house at all. Papa used to say that he was allergic to wine but I think his reasons for abstaining went much deeper than he let on. That was Papa, always wanted to protect us from everything including himself if need be.

Each night after dinner I would sit next to my father's chair as he would sip espresso while smoking his pipe and listening to old Italian folk songs. Sometimes he would sing along to the music in the old language. Mama would finish in the kitchen then come into the parlor and sit across from Papa. She always served ice water with slices of fresh lemon then sat back to enjoy the music and the scent of Papa's pipe smoke. He had so many beautiful hand-crafted pipes that were a joy to look at as well as smell. When it was my bedtime I kissed my parents and snuggled into my comfortable bed. The house felt, sounded and smelled so good. I always fell asleep very quickly during those times.

One night I woke up and heard some men talking downstairs. Mama was already asleep in her bed so I quietly walked to the stairs and saw Papa speaking with three other men in the living room. The men were dressed in suits that looked quite expensive. Papa spoke to them in Italian and they seemed to understand what he was saying. One of the men spoke in English and said "Looks like a long night, eh?" Then my father put his jacket on and left the house along with the three other men.

I never saw my father again after that night. My mother refused to discuss anything about him other than to scold us for asking. Eventually we knew never to inquire any more. Our house never felt the same again. There was, however, a lot of wine in the house after that.

Six months ago I was having dinner at a restaurant with my wife and children when a customer came in that I recognized immediately. It was one of the men that I saw that night speaking Italian with my father in the living room. He was much older than he was that night long ago, but he had the exact same suit on. When he went into the men's bathroom I followed him in. I did not know what to say or how to even bring up the subject of my father or that night. All I knew and cared about was the fact that one of those men was in the very same room as me. He must have felt my eyes upon him because he looked at me through the mirror above the sink. After what seemed like an eternity he said "Looks like a long night, eh?"

The rest you already know because it's all in the police report. The defense lawyer said that if I am lucky I'll get a life sentence without parole. I appreciate your attempt at saving my soul, Father, but that died many years ago. Please be with my family because they need all the prayer and support they can get now.

I have to go. There's this little old Italian guy on kitchen detail that I need to see.

I IS FEATURED!!!

Yours truly is currently a featured writer on the EditRed site! Most of my submissions have been some choice picks from this site as well as some exclusive content for EditRed.

Check it out here!

Pet Peeve

I want to share one of my many pet peeves. While I have many (I'm an old grouch) this one is one of my biggest.

I hate when I am in a store speaking to a clerk and another customer comes up and starts either asking questions or barking orders at the clerk while I am in mid-conversation with said clerk. Why does this other customer think that his or her time is more important than mine? How would they react if I was to do that to them?

This also happens frequently in non-commercial settings. I am in the middle of speaking to someone and another person comes along and starts chatting with the person I am speaking with. Excuse me, am I invisible? Is what you have to say anything more important than what I have to say? I don't understand it!

This happened to me this past Sunday at church. I was speaking with someone about a rather important issue when some loudmouth jerk comes along and starts to monopolize the private conversation. Now at first I decided that in order to avoid a confrontation (being that this was church) I would let it go. After ahwile I asked myself why I should I have to sit back and take it when the other person obviously did not care about being polite.

I think that I am going to give myself an order that the next time this happens (and you know it will) I am to put the jerk in his or her place. While I do not expect the offender to comprehend the reason for my defense, I fully expect to at least feel a bit better by doing so.

Anyone else out there have this gripe too? I'd love to hear about it!

Hedonsim defined

Back in Havana, Fidel and I dined on the local paella and rum. Armed with Cohibas in the shade we made our plans to run the contraband up through the back channels of the underground market. The bribes were paid and the bosses were gifted. All that was left was to return the suits back to the mob.

Pavel watched pornographic cartoons on his Blackberry while the trucks were loaded.

The coffee was dark and strong just like our women. Their sweaty muscles shining under the midday sun as they carried crates of cargo onto the dock. Once the sun went down we would trek our convoy out of the city and into the night.