Rant #3,746: The Letter

Yes, as you probably already know if you live on Long Island, my letter was published in the Letters to the Editor section in Newsday yesterday.

I sent my letter in last week, and I had absolutely no idea that it would find its way into the newspaper.

I have had dozens of letters, stories and mentions in Newsday during the past more than 50 years, and usually what they do is to contact you when they are interested in publishing your letter, alert you that they have the right to edit it, and to look for it in the newspaper.

But this time, I was never contacted, so I am as  surprised as you were when I saw it in the newspaper yesterday morning.

Anyway, if you didn't see it, it is in the photo above, and it has to do with CBS canceling its "Late Show" franchise 

I won't go over what I said in the letter--please read it yourself--and you are free to agree or disagree with me.

Look, I am a professional writer, have been one for 40 years or more, and my stuff is in print, all over the Internet, and it all started in 1963 or so, at least as far as seeing my name in print is concerned.

The first time i can remember seeing my name in print was in the literary magazine put out by P.S. 165 in Flushing, the school I went to in kindergarten and first grade when my family and I lived in Kew Gardens Hills, Queens.

I wrote something short about voting, and I loved seeing my name in print from that point on.

In about 1965 or so, I was really into my comic book collection, and now a resident of Rochdale Village in South Jamaica, Queens, I wrote a batch--at least 20 or 30 postcards--to various comic book titles put out by DC Comics, the home of Superman and Batman.

Fir several months, I looked in each and every title I wrote to, and finally, I saw my name in the Letters section of a "Superman's Pal, Jimmy Olsen" comic book, and i yelled and screamed and screeched with glee as I walked back home from the comic book store.

I think a couple of other Letters turned up in the Letters section of other comic books through the end of the decade of the 1960s, and by late summer 1971, we had moved to Massapequa Park on Long island, and my writing did not stop.

My name appeared in various columns in Newsday--including several times in TV critic Marvin Kitman's column and Wayne Robins' music column--and I was being something of a very semi-regular in their pages.

I also think I got a letter or two into the Daily News during the early to mid-1970s, too.

And through the years, I have had dozens of mentions in Newsday ... Letters, feature stories, and stories covering my personal ups and downs.

In the meantime, through the 1970s, 1980s, 1990s and to this day, I became a professional writer, and my name has turned up in a wide variety of publications.

I have been in such publications as a book on Rochdale Village, a trivia book about The Monkees, and in People Magazine.

Some have gone international, and when I worked for nearly 25 years at my last job, my writing went to Europe, Asia and the Middle East.

And no, while it is certainly nice, I simply don't get as big a bang when I see my writings on the Internet.

There is nothing like seeing your work and your name on the printed page, and when I see just that as I did yesterday morning, it gives me a real rush.

Maybe I can have such a rush when I (hope to) get my novel published, but we shall see.

And as an aside, this time--and for the first time--i used my given name rather than my nickname.

I rarely use my given name--usually on official documents, and that's it--so yesterday, I received a double bonus--

Not only did I see my letter to the editor in print, but I also saw my given name printed in the media for the very first time.

Not a bad payout for something I didn't even know was going to be published.

Write On!

Rant #3,745: Crazy Train

Ozzy Osbourne has jumped onto the ultimate "Crazy Train," and he gave us a lot in his 76 years of life.

Parkinson's Disease took him, not biting off the head of bats.

I have to tell you, I was absolutely not a fan; I never really got into his music, didn't really like Black Sabbath, nor his solo and later material.

I have absolutely no records in my collection from him or his band.

I never watched his reality TV show, but I do give his wife, Sharon, a lot of credit for resurrecting this guy and making him something of a cultural phenomenon.

But he--and Black Sanbath--were among the true fathers of metal music--heavy and otherwise--and I know that some prople will mourn today as they mourn the passing of a close relative.

I also mourn the passing of Malcolm-Jamal Warner, one of the stars of the groundbreaking "The Cosby Show," who drowned while on vacation earlier this week.

He was an extremely talented actor, director, musician and poet, and it all started with that half-hour sitcom.

Forget what Bill Cosby did or did not do--Warner had nothing to do with any of that, and making him "guilty by association" is just so wrong.

If you want to see a real representative of a different time and place, watch "The Cosby Show," if you can find it.

I loved the show, never missed it, but that was 40 years ago, and the world has just changed so much since that time.

Two sad passings, but their legacies are fairly readily available.

I guess Osbourne is not the only one on that "Crazy Train."

It is just crazy that Warner is gone at such a young age, but he has a seat on that out-of-control train, too.

As does Connie Francis, come to think of it.

Sorry for the brevity of this post, but honestly, there really isn't much more to say, other than--

R I.P.

Rant #3,744: 1, 2, 3

My son and I attended the TNA Slammiversary event at the UBS Arena on Sunday night, and we had a fun time while there ...

Less the time spent in the car, of course.

Funny, the arena is just about 10 miles away from the Nassau Coliseum, but it is really worlds away from the old barn.

Driving was impossible, Sunday evening traffic was terrible, and I needed my phone's GPS to find our parking lot.

It took us about 45 minutes to get there, versus about the 20 minutes it normally takes us to go to the Coliseum.

Once there, we happily discovered that the parking lot we were in was a lot closer to the arena than where we parked five years ago when we were last there.

It cost more than $50 to park there; I wasn't too thrilled about that, but they have you by the you know what, because honestly, where else can you park?

(By the way, the actual tickets, individually, were cheaper than the parking!)

That time, we had to take a shuttle to even get to the outskirts of the arena ... and then, unbeknownst to us, we then had to walk halfway around the arena to get to the front entrance.

There was none of that this time, but once we entered, we ran into the usual detriments--

The food was incredibly over-priced--more than $8 for a single slice of pizza--and the merchandise lines were literally an hour-wait long.

But once we got settled, we saw a very good nearly four-and-a-half hour show, with several excellent matches, and the return of former TNA star AJ Styles to the fold, albeit very briefly and without consequence.

Once the show was over just before 11:30 p.m., we walked to our car, but the lighting wasn't good and it took us a couple more minutes to locate it.

Getting out was pretty bad, everyone going every which way to one single exit, and even using the GPS again, the lighting was so bad that I missed where I had to drive to to get home.

I managed to double back, but even getting on the right road and without traffic, we still didn't get home until slightly past 12 midnight.

So all in all, the show was a good one--the attendance was more than 7,600, a supposed record for a TNA show--but getting there, and getting out, were difficult, at best.

The UBS Arena is a nice, modern arena, but while it won't say I will never go back, I would so much rather see pro wrestling at Nassau Coliseum or Madison Square Garden--

But the best way remains watching it on TV in the comfort of your home.

Rant #3,743: Moonwalk

Yesterday was the 56th anniversary of a pretty big day in not only America's history, but also in world history.

It is hard to believe that it was so long ago, but on July 20, 1969, Neil Armstrong walked on the surface of the moon.

Being 12 years old at the time, I was as caught up in the buildup of all of this as everyone else.

We were going to do the impossible, something that had only been in the dreams of science fiction writers and real dreamers.

I remember that my family had been on our annual vacation to the Catskill Mountains during the days just prior to this event.

I really didn't like going to the Catskill Mountains at this point in my life, and I am sure I gave my parents hell during that week away.

I wanted to be with my friends, be in camp, and this vacation took all of that away from me.

And the anticipation of what was going to happen probably made my time away much, much worse.

I was really into this.

I read everything and anything I could about the mission, and at the time, one of my uncles had worked as an engineer on the prior Gemini program, and he periodically sent us pamphlets and information on that project, so at an early age, I was primed and ready for the Apollo space program.

As we left our vacation spot and drove home, I simply could not wait to get home.

When we finally did, I remember putting on our old black and white Dumont television in our living room--I think i put it on Channel 2, WCBS in New York, but I am not sure--and the news coverage had started early in the afternoon, so i just planted myself on the couch, and planned to watch the moonwalk.

And then Neil Armstrong did what was thought to be impossible--

"One small step fir man, one giant leap for mankind."

And all in glorious black and white.

I simply could not take my eyes off the screen. 

I was so mesmerized, I don't remember if my parents or my sister were watching with me.

It didn't matter.

I witnessed the impossible.

Sure, there were other subsequent moon missions in the Apollo program, and I watched them all, but once we did the impossible, the moonwalks became somewhat ho hum.

It wasn't just me.

Interest waned, and the other projects leading up to where we are now didn't do too much to pique interest in the space program.

There were other concerns to take care of here on earth, and interest in the space program just really hasn't been reignited during the past 50 years--

Even though numerous countries and private companies have gotten into the space act in recent years.

That maiden moonwalk gave Baby Boomers, in particular, perhaps the major focal point of our generation.

Yes, our generation were dreamers.

But the moonwalk gave us reason to believe dreams can come true--

Something no succeeding generation can make claim to.

Maybe that is what is wrong with our planet.

When you can dream, and make the impossible possible, then the sky is literally the limit.

That first moonwalk galvanized the world, and if for just a few moments, we were literally brothers in arms, forgetting our differences and demonstrating that with all those differences, we were the human race.

There is nothing like this today, and maybe, that is the problem.

People don't dream anymore, and let's be honest about it--

Most people alive today were not even born yet when Armstrong took those first steps on the moon.

It is ancient history to them, if even that.

I am hoping that during the next few years, we, as a civilization, can experience another such galvanizing moment--

When astronauts reach, land on, and walk on Mars.

I am certainly hoping that I am around for that event, but most importantly, i am hoping that the younger generation has their moment, just like my generation had their moment when Armstrong took the maiden steps on the moon.

We need something to bring us all together, and a Mars walk might just be it.

Rant #3,742: Connie-O

Yes, I had another busy day yesterday.

I did have that work meeting, and I had my regular work to do, plus I was on the phone several times trying to obtain services for my son.

Yes, it does get to you after awhile.

My son will be taking his first Civil Service test in September.

One of his counselors suggested that we look into it, and the job he will be taking a test for might be a good one for him.

So he will take the test, hopefully pass, and then we will see what happens.

All told, the ridiculously busy part of my day was pretty much over by 3 p.m., so I was able to breathe a little bit--

And I ate a nice, juicy apple to celebrate.

And yes, one of our great singers just left us.

Connie Francis was the biggest selling female singer until Madonna came around, and while I won't say I was a big fan of Francis, I did like some of her songs, especially "Where the Boys Are," which features one of the greatest vocals of the rock era.

She will be missed.

And to close out the week, I am going to post another chapter of my novel for you to engage with.

I haven't done this in a few weeks, so another chapter is due--

And in all honesty, I am too pooped to write another long entry, so this will do for now.

Have a great weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday.

Read on!

32

After a few minutes of talking and getting to know one another, Abraham Lincoln Panim and Ariel were approached by Charley, who brought them their order.

“Here is the coffee and the cheese Danishes, just like you like them, Ariel, and here is something for Snuff,” Charley said as he bent down and gave the dog a biscuit. “Nothing is too good for my friend Ariel and her new boyfriend.”

“He is not my boyfriend!” Ariel exclaimed, but she did it with a smile on her face that Abraham Lincoln Panim noticed right away while he continued to primp himself.

Ariel reached out, found the bowl with the individual creams in it, opened one up, and poured it into her coffee. Abraham Lincoln Panim drank his coffee black as he took the first bite into his cheese Danish. It had absolutely no effect on him, and he even kind of liked what he was eating.

“I have to tell you, Ariel, that when I was younger, I was very allergic to cheese,” he said, as he bit into the Danish, “but now, I guess I am over it. I kind of like cheese!”

The two continued to talk, and one conversation dovetailed into another.

“I know that you teach at the school … tell me something about yourself.”

Abraham Lincoln Panim took his hands out of his hair, took a long drink of coffee, and said, “Well, there really isn’t that much to tell. I grew up right here, have really never been anywhere out of this area … I was pretty much home schooled by an older lady as my mother went to work as the principal of the school that I teach at.”

“What about your father? What happened to him?”

Abraham Lincoln Panim tensed up a bit. “I really don’t know what happened to him. It’s one of those things … I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“I understand, sorry I brought it up.”

“No, that’s all right. My mom and that older lady, Mrs. Stottle … I had a nice childhood,” he replied, kind of gritting his teeth when he said “a nice childhood.”

“I mean, it was as good as it could be … I would rather look forward, not back, to tell you the honest truth. The best is still ahead of me, I really feel that.”

“I am so sorry I brought up your father … I did not know that he wasn’t in the picture for you.”

“No, don’t worry about it. What happened happened. It’s not important.”

Ariel and Abraham Lincoln Panim continued to converse and get to know each other, but they, and everyone else in the diner, were interrupted by a commotion up front between Charley and someone who had just entered the restaurant.

“Charley, is Ariel here? Is she here with that rat face?” yelled the man who had just entered the diner.

“You have to keep your voice down. You are scaring everyone here,” Charley replied.

“I don’t care. Where is she?” he yelled, and as he looked out at the rows of tables and chairs and the diners in the restaurant, he saw way to the back, and skirted all the tables and chairs and people to get to his destination.

As he got closer, Abraham Lincoln Panim could see that it was Brandon Hartung.

“What are you two doing here?” snapped Brandon as he approached the table where Ariel and Abraham Lincoln Panim were sitting.

“We are having a nice chat.” Ariel said, “This has nothing to do with you.”

Abraham Lincoln Panim saw that all eyes of the diners were on what was happening between the three of them, and not solely on him anymore. Even Snuff stopped eating his biscuit, and started to snarl.

He stood up, and looked right at Brandon.

“Look, Ariel and I were just talking,” Abraham Lincoln Panim said. “Nothing more. This does not include you. This has nothing to do with you.

“It has everything to do with me. Ariel and I—“

“Look, I would suggest that you move on. All you are doing is causing a commotion here.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t move on?” Brandon asked as he moved closer to Abraham Lincoln Panim.

People began to move from their tables as the two got closer to each other. Snuff tried to pull Ariel away from the table as his growling got louder.

“I am asking you for the last time to leave us alone,” Abraham Lincoln Panm said as Charley ran to the table.

“You two, you want to settle this, go outside and do it,” Charley said. “You don’t do it in my diner.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t go away, rat-face boy?” Brandon asked as he cocked his right arm, the hand of which Abraham Lincoln Panim saw was covered with some type of crude glove, as if to prepare for a punch.

Almost instinctively, Abraham Lincoln Panim punched Brandon right into his jaw, knocking him on the floor. Brandon fell so hard that the covering came off of his right hand, to reveal that Brandon had a claw like a lobster instead of his hand.

Ariel bent down to Brandon as Snuff turned the attention of his snarling directly to Abraham Lincoln Panim.

“My glove, my glove!” Brandon screamed, and Snuff brought him the glove as he lay on the floor. He quickly put the glove on, still smarting from the punch.

“How could you do this? How could you cause such a scene?” Ariel screamed out to Abraham Lincoln Panim.

“I was just … I was just protecting myself. He was ready to throw a punch at me with his hand … his claw, whatever you want to call it.”

Charley put his hand on Abraham Lincoln Panim’s shoulder.

“Young man, I never want to see you again,” he said to Abraham Lincoln Panim. “The door is over there. Use it right now, and never come into this diner again!”

“But I was only—“

“Abraham Lincoln Panim, I never want to see you again,” Ariel shrieked as she continued to attend to the fallen Brandon. “You have embarrassed me, you are not my type of person. Get away from me right now.”

As Snuff continued to growl at Abraham Lincoln Panim, he weaved his way to the front of the diner as people stared at him, but not in the way he had been accustomed to.

He left the diner, walking home quickly through the park.

Rant #3,741: Slow Down

Yesterday was another one of those days.

My son and I met with the counselor from the Department of Employment, Suffolk County, and i have to say, it went pretty well.

He gave us some good ideas, some good things to think about, and for once, this guy seemed to be truly authentic.

He will be in touch with us, and I think we are on the right path now.

I hope ... .

We met with this counselor for like 90 minutes or two hours or so, and it took us like 40 minutes to get there, but I think it was well worth it.

I hope ... .

Now for the rest of the day.

I woke up at 7 a.m., and little did I know what was ahead of me.

I checked my email after showering and getting dressed, and I saw that at nearly 10 p.m. on Tuesday evening, I was sent a story to write up.

So right after I ate breakfast, I rushed to complete this story, because I knew I had a busy morning later on with my son.

I finished it, my son and I went to the counselor, and we arrived home at about 2 p.m.

I ate a quick lunch, and then, I saw I had a story to edit, and around 3 p.m., I finished that story.

I thought I would have time to do what the counselor suggested for my son, but lo and behold, I was hit by the proverbial bus, or a ton of bricks, or whatever you want to call it.

My work sent me something to write up, a huge thing that I knew would wipe out the rest of the afternoon--

Preventing me from doing what I wanted and needed to do and forcinh me to do exactly what i didn't want to do--

And it took me around a solid three hours to complete it.

I will have to do what I wanted and needed to do for my son sometime today--

Because I supposedly have a work meeting this morning, and you might remember the last work meeting I had, which I found out was canceled several minutes after I rushed to participate in it while in the library waiting for the late-in-arriving counselor to continue my son's assessment.

After I finished this 1,800-word horror show on Wednesday's early evening, I was talking to my wife about our situation, and I am going to let you in on some of the things we spoke about, much of which you already know.

My wife and I are both "retired," or at least the federal and state governments consider us to be so.

I "retired" against my will, she "retired" because she had had enough, working in a place which was kind of forcing her out.

My unemployment time started right before the pandemic started, and continued through almost the entirety of 2020, probably the absolute worst time in the world's history to be out of work and looking for a job, especially while in my early 60s.

After all that heartache, I was very, very lucky to get this remote editing/writing job as my unemployment benefits were about to run out. 

My wife went back to work on a part-time basis because 1) she was bored, and 2) she wanted to have some more money in her pocketbook.

In actuality, we both need to work, because retiring at the ages we did provided us with Social Security payments that don't pay for very much in this post-pandemic economic environment we are in.

Neither one of us received pensions for our years of work, but we did have 401ks, so with whatever other money we had--the sale of the house did not produce very much for us--we are far from indigent, but we want to enjoy our "retirement" without having to worry about finances--

Which we simply cannot do.

And what is "retirement?"

My wife and I have no clue, because we will probably be working for the rest of our lives.

Heck, all during the period when I tore my quad twice, when I couldn't get out of the bed, I continued to work.

If I didn't tell my work about my physical problems, they would have never known that I was operating on one leg for like six months!

In fact, when we go on vacation--we haven't been on one in a few years--I bring my laptop with me and I find the time to do my daily work, so I don't even have a break then.

No work, no pay, so even when we went on a cruise, i had to find the time to work.

And i have continued to work through my current medical concerns, without stopping.

My wife has had her own physical problems, but she also pushes on, and as you read this, she is at work at her part-time job.

And all through this, we are helping my son to look for work, and that, itself, has become something of a full-time job.

What is "retirement?"

My wife and I don't believe we will ever truly know.

And while I am not a jealous person, I am becoming increasingly envious of some of my peers, who are actually retired and wake up every day saying to themselves--

"What do I want to do today?"

They are retired.

My wife and I are not.

Rant #3,740: Time Won't Let Me

As usual, when I do something correctly, somehow, it just doesn't come out the way it is supposed to be.

I took my son to the local library for the latest part of his assessment, and the woman doing it was not there.

I told my son that maybe the woman was a little late, and that he should sit tight and wait for her while I set up my laptop computer for my own meeting for work.

I found a secluded spot, set the computer up, and lo and behold, i could not get on the Internet.

I tried everything, but to no avail.

I brought my phone with me, connected pretty quickly, but I could not hear a word that was being said.

So I figured I might get a better connection if I went to my car, and as I sped past my son, I saw that the woman still was not there--

And I told him to sit tight, and i would go into the car and find out what was going on.

I got to the car, and the first thing I did was to get back into my work meeting.

I did that pretty easily, and I could hear things loud and clear.

"The meeting was canceled," a voice told me.

I wondered why no one told me this beforehand so I wouldn't have had to rush and bring all this computer stuff with me--

And I later discovered that I did get sent an email, but a few minutes after the meeting was to be held.

So much for promptness!

But even with the cancelation, I still had to find out what was doing with today's portion of the assessment.

I called the woman from my car and left a message.

I went back to the library, and my son was sitting with the woman, who told me that she was a few minutes late.

Couldn't she have called or texted me to let me know about this?

Now that that was all set, I had some time to kill while the assessment was being done, so I figured I would use the library's computer to while away the time.

I put in my library code and password, but it would not take my password--

The same password I used last week to get on the computer when I first got my library card.

I went up to the help desk, and I told the woman my problem.

I told her my password, and she said that was impossible, because the system only takes numeric passwords.

I then told her that the system took my password last week, one which included both numbers and letters.

Rather than argue, we agreed I needed a new numeric password, I got it, and I was able to spend some time on the computer.

Why is everything torture?

Why is everything so difficult to do?

I have no idea, none at all.

But I seem to be in the middle of this situation.

I know nothing is easy, but things that should be simple always seem to end up convoluted.

We agree to a time to meet, you be there, and let me know if you are going to be late.

And if something is canceled, please let me know as this fact arises, not minutes afterward.

And as far as passwords, I remember when "Password" was a great TV game show.

I know my passwords, so don't tell me otherwise.

I guess "Torture" has become my new middle name.

This cannot possibly be what retirement is ...

On to the next assessment!