Never became now. We say it, we believe it,
and then, we have to accept it. Never is
nothing but a dream, and everything
when you say never again.
Category: LIFESTYLE
If I had known that I was seated next to the Mafia Boss of Los Angeles, then I would have listened with sharpened ears, and repeated bits of explosive headline blood curdling stories to my girlfriends. That would have placed myself, my father and my friends in jeopardy. An informant from the government may tag me on the way home from school, or tag one of my friends, or an enemy of the Boss, may pick me up from school and not bring me back. Everyone is suspect: an informant, or weak enough to become an informant, a loose lipped wise guy, a bragging connected businessman, a friend of a friend, a cousin of a brother, and a daughter of a gangster. We are all potential targets of this organization known as the Mafia, Mob, syndicate, Costa Nostra, or our thing. Growing up in this circle of gamblers, killers, fixers, enforcers, bookies was like growing up in a novel, it was a fictional tale all the way, until the end of my father’s life. There is a drop down board that appears every time I write about our family business that reads, “ How dare you open my life to the world, what do you know? You know nothing little sweetheart, and that’s the way I planned it. “ “There’s no such thing as the Mafia! If you ever mention that word again, you’re leaving this house!” I melted down to the floor, and he was ominous as God standing over me. I would never mention the word again, I promised, and I would never believe in the Mafia. So, I became a writer of our secret interior life.
Two Weeks
How do we get through the myriad of fears? Absent minded activity,
conversing with technology, avoiding risk, reality TV. I need to rig my back-bone for the next few weeks,
and what I bring to the nightmare is: The Vagabond by Colette, the Nancy Wilson station on Pandora,
my journal, and the Travel & Leisure issue all about Italy.
THANK TOU OLYMPICS, I WANT TO BE A CHAMPION TOO
Only minutes after the Olympic closing ceremony and your song, I asked, will they tribute John?
AND YOU DID IT. YOU DID IT PAUL. AND JOHN WAS LISTENING.
WE CAN ALL BE CHAMPIONS. YOU DON’T NEED A COMPETITOR, YOU HAVE YOUR CONSCIENCE. LET THOSE 85 COUNTRIES, AND THOUSANDS OF PERFORMANCES INSPIRE YOU TO BE YOUR OWN CHAMPION.
A MAN AND A WOMAN
THE PAIN A MAN FEELS WHEN TAKEN FOR HIS MONEY, IS Equal to a woman taken for her sexual pleasure, and nothing else.
CESAER’S SALAD
I moved in with my Dad when I was thirteen years old. My mother had just passed away, and I arrived with innocence and untrained cooking skills. Mom was an Irish Catholic meatloaf and corn-beef cook. Dad was a Russian Orthodox raised moderate vegetarian, and decided to hire a chef to teach me how to cook.
I came home from school one day, and found Caesar in the kitchen. He was a stand-in for Paulie in the Godfather, only he had curly black hair, and apple red cheeks. Caesar was dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and an apron that fell short of fitting him. Dad instructed Cesar to teach me how to make salads, baked fish, and spaghetti with oil and garlic. Everyday after school, Caesar was in the kitchen preparing dinner for us, and I stood beside him, observing his chubby knuckled fingers, slice and chop vegetables. We started with what Dad ordered; a meal in a salad, and later coined it Farmer’s Chop Suey. The salad was not just prepared, it was a decorated masterpiece when he finished. During the preparation, I noticed beads of sweat on Caesar’s face, and a jittery nervousness, surfaced just before my father arrived home, “What do you think? Will Dad approve?” He asked. I assured him Dad would love the salad. Cesar and I became pals, and waited anxiously for Dad’s arrival. He wasn’t all that agreeable. Fastidiousness and perfection are common traits amongst gangsters. Usually, Dad remarked there wasn’t enough garlic, or there were too many croutons, and Caesar would swiftly correct the complaint.
After Cesar went home, Dad would talk to me about food, and how everything starts in the stomach, and how the vegetables have to be scrubbed, and the seeds removed. Three or four times a week Dad dined out, and he didn’t order salads. He frequented Italian restaurants, and his favorite was Bouillabaisse, with a side of pasta. I never saw him enjoy any food as much as Borsch with sour cream, and smoked white fish. That was his favorite childhood meal. His father was a Orthodox Butcher, a very scared skill that requires a thorough understanding of Kosher preparation.
About six months had passed, and I came home one day and Cesar wasn’t there. Instead I found my father in a rage. I asked about Cesar and he told me it was none of my business, and to start preparing dinner. After my first salad preparation, Dad applauded my presentation, and assured me everything he was teaching me would serve me later on in life. He explained he had to be harsh and demanding, because he wanted me to be able to take care of myself properly.
I developed into a moderate vegetarian and have used that salad as a blueprint for most of my meals. Now I create a variety of salads, and a lot more ingredients: like white beans, garbanzos, walnuts, tuna, or shrimp, artichokes, sun-dried tomatoes etc. My friends call me a free-style cook because I only use recipes when I’m making soups or stews.
I was very fortunate to grow up with a father who spent hours teaching me what I would need to know in life. This is something you won’t read or see in a film about growing up with gangsters.
PANDORA RADIOhttp://www.pandora.com/station/play/983297050100892180
PANDORA RADIO
I made a Nancy Wilson station, and I cannot turn it off. This is like walking with the heartache
and commonality of our emotions.
HAHA IN SANTA FE
I go to the market, and buy six items.” Do you want a bag?” he asks? “No I’ll juggle them on my head.” At the bar at Geronimo, ‘ Do you live here,” from the man sitting next to me. Gibberish weather, and wine conversation, then I ask what his wife does, he turns his back and talks to the woman on the other side of him. Another night at Geronimo, a man ( high dollar Texan) buys me dinner because he thinks I’m so different.. We decide to go dancing at El Farol. I meet up with two humorous gay fellas on the porch, and while having a cigarette, the man exits and leaves without a word. At La Po, the waitress asks me, why I am staying here. I tell her because my house is rented. ” Oh, do you still own it?” she says. The front page of Pasatiempo event guide is a story, ” Are you paying too much for pot?”
A man walks up to my porch, ” Are you open?” “No, but come in” I say and he walks around and tells me he dreamth about my red room, as the office of his character in his screenplay.
Wells Fargo is my favorite. As soon as you walk in, a bank hostess, sings, “Welcome to Wells Fargo” and then I wait 20 minutes for a teller. After that, I spend another twenty minutes watching what the clerk is doing because they always put my business income in my personal account. La de da, if you want to live like it’s all a joke, move to Santa Fe. It will transform your rigidness into a loosely tied knot of learning how to adapt, as if you were in another country.
The plumber who is amiable fun-loving man, whose name is Tim gives me a ride to Wells Fargo so I can pay him cash. Tim lived here all his life, but he’s having trouble finding a pen, and a calendar to mark the next payment date, and then we pass Wells Fargo, and he says, is this it? I say Tim, it’s been here a long time, and he says, I got so many jobs I don’t know what’s newer than 1960.
The streets are narrow and filled with pot holes, so when a delivery truck can’t find a parking space, they pull up on the sidewalk, and over the years, the sidewalks have bubbles, cracks, and are worn down. It requires tightrope talent, and if you wear stacked heels, you’ll never make it to the corner. My heel got stuck between two bricks and I had a hellava time breaking free.
TEST PILOT
THE FILM, stars Myrna Loy, Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy. At the risk of outrage from women who hate men, this film illustrates what a woman will and should do for the man she truly loves. The catch five is finding the right man to do it for!
DREAMS ARE OUR BREATH
My dream slipped out. Has that ever happened to you?
You wake up one day, and you’re watching the Olympics, with a robust cup of Italian Roast, and the bed is empty and unmade, and then there’s London, and the glorious athletes, their smiles crossing the world, and here in my room, I am mesmerized by the champions. I’m
going to look for my dream today.
HONESTY BRINGS HONOR.
The interior dialogue that is MALICIOUS and masked from the outside world, rots and takes the man or woman with it. BE HONEST AND IF YOUR ENCOUNTERS AREN’T, TEACH THEM.
ADVENTURERS IN LIVINGNESS 