Talking Bella out of school to see The Mets

5/10/17 20:53

This was one of those events which took years to accomplish.  Three years ago, we were at church.  I was with Bella and we were walking to hall where there’s coffee and snacks after service.  I helped Ruth, an old woman retrieve her walker and she thanked me. She looked at Bella and me.  I’m not sure what triggered her memory but she said, “I remember my father taking me out of school to see the Brooklyn Dodgers play.”  That memory triggered Bella.  And on our way home, she asked if I can do the same for her.  Like I said it was years in the making.  Major League Baseball does not play many games during the game and barely any during the school year.  But I remembered.  I didn’t need to be reminded by Bella.  The child does not let anything go.  I called Ali and let her know what I wanted to do.  I put in for a day off which was approved.  She slept in that morning and we left the house around 11:00.  Before we left the house, she wanted to know who we were seeing. The Mets.  Oh, she said, I thought we were seeing the Long Island Ducks.  I explained that R.A Dickey was pitching, and he was a special pitcher since he throws a knuckle ball.  The ball floats in the air and is hard for a batter to pick up and make contact with.  I don’t think she cared.  She was off from school.  On the way in, I asked her what a full count was.  This is a question I ask her each time we are at a game.  We discussed baseball in general, the rules and the teams we were going to see.  As luck would have it, there were discount tickets in Group On, we paid $20.00 to sit at field level, but we were far back from any action, way back in the right field.  Paid $25.00 to park and I explained how The Mets use to play in Shea Stadium.  We found the bases which are marked in the parking lot.  Took pictures around the stadium and discussed Jackie Robinson.  I was at Shea when President Clinton and the commissioner retired number 42 from all teams.  She may have been off from school, but there’s always time to learn.  I bought a sausage and pepper and a Stella beer, $19.00.  She didn’t want anything to eat.  We took our seats, the sun was slightly breaking through the clouds.  It was a good day for baseball, but not for the Mets.  Matt Harvey had a great first inning and let the air out after that.  He served a three run dinger to the Brave’s catcher who was batting 166.  RA pitched well.  I saw him the day he won his 20^th on September, 27^th 2012 when he pitched for the Mets and won the Cy Young award that year.  Yes, I took that day off as well.  I read his autobiography, which is a great book.  You can say I am a fan of his, so I was happy to hear he was pitching, and it was his first start at Citi Field since he was traded five years ago.   The Mets were getting blown out of the water and we left.  We picked up Ali at work and were home in time to make it to confirmation class.   The next Sunday, I saw Ruth take her seat before service began and I made my way down to speak to her.  I have to let you know, you inspired me to take my daughter out of school to see a baseball game.  She held my hands with in her fragile grasp and remembered telling me about the Brooklyn Dodgers.  Now it’s your turn.

Thank you for reading this.

Dead & Company, Saturday Night at Citi Field

6/26/16 17:16 Penn Station, NYC on the train to Philadelphia

I thought this train would be packed.  There has not been an announcement telling the passengers where this train is headed as we hurl through the tunnel in a direction.  Wait, here he is.  Conductor will be collecting tickets.  Train to Philadelphia and Harrisburg.  We stopped.  So close. 

This morning I came home at 1:30 in the morning.  I assumed I would get in closer to 2:00.  I was at the Dead & Company concert.  The first of two shows at Citi Field.  I wrote about my last experience seeing the Grateful Dead at Brendan Byrne Arena.  The man who I had to leave at that arena all of those faded decades before (Frank Dentrone) met me last night.  All of these years later?  To take a guess – 25 years?  There were warnings from the professional Citi Field organizers to show up early.  I followed their instructions to an extent and ended up at my seat up in the nose bleeds - 518 section with a beer and sausage and pepper sandwich about an hour before the band hit the stage.  Frank had an event to attend and showed up at 9:30.  Frank saw The Grateful Dead more than a hundred times and he said if he counted the various versions of the band he saw in concert – it would tally to more than 200. 

Let me be clear, I wouldn’t consider myself a dead head.  I like their music and respect them as artists.  I don’t recall every buying an album and I vow I never had a tie dyed t-shirt, even in the late eighties when it was a craze.  That’s a lie, when I was a kid - we made tie dyes with rubber bands and various dyes over at our very close neighbors, The Dickersons.   Here’s my thinking with the tie dyes.  Where else would you wear one except for a Dead show or one of their various incarnations and copy cats?

This crowd is a unique and considerate breed who look out for one another.  Frank and I caught up on our lives and we discussed his years of experiences at the Dead shows.  He warned me about the large brown bus which follows the Dead when they are on tour.  They are known as Yashawaa followers and would welcome any tripping soul into their cult.  I told Frank I saw the bus in the parking lot.  Stay away from them dude.  OK, got it.  Stay away from the brown bus.  And with the joy were the tripping, long haired, bearded kids who were feeling it more than I ever would.  I watched one kid, of course wearing a tie dye who sort of slunk as he stepped.  He lit up a joint in the round as if he was lighting a cigarette as if he could get away with it.  He did.  He did not give a shit.  He was having a good time and was stoned immaculate.  We were all having a good time except for the row where someone took the party to the extreme and got sick.  The staff cleaned it up with rolls of paper towels and rubber gloves.  I assumed the kid with the tie dye would be slumped against a wall the next time I had to use the bathroom.  More about him later.

There was a sense of joy throughout the stadium.  All ages were there and most were standing and dancing in their seats.  Old hipped and the young ones who made the leap into their music.  I confess I joined them.  It was late and I was getting into the vibe.  Give me a break and ignore my swinging intoxicated arms; taking in the distinct smoke clouds rising from multiple joints.  The show opened up with Shakedown Street whole the sun was slowly setting.  The crowd slowly made their way in.   Some were bouncing with joy as they made their way.  I watched women without bras and with flowers in their hair smiling from ear to ear - delicately dancing hand in hand.  This band caters to the hippies and they were out in full force.  But you know what – it was a great time. I told Frank they should come around every year – like Jimmy Buffett.  But the event may lose its appeal.  The current tour is fairly short.   The band is not taking advantage of the fans and yet they have received some criticism.  Phil Lesh, the original bassist is not playing with the band.  Jerry Garcia has been dead for more than twenty years and in his place, doing his very talented and distinct best is John Mayer.  Last night, one of their original backup singers joined the band for these shows – Donna Jean Godchaux .  The last time Lesh played with the band was last year on their Fair Thee Well Tour, or their fiftieth anniversary or what was promoted to be their final gigs. 

Just before midnight, the band bowed to an adoring audience and Frank and I made our way down from the heights.  We stopped outside and were about to part ways when a guy with long hair and robe on offered me a pamphlet.  Frank told me who he was.  The tied dyed kid who I thought was passed out somewhere, was standing guard like a saint and was ready to warm any unsuspecting Dead Head.  He looked at me with wide awake eyes, “Dude, don’t take it.  It’s a Yashawaa, be careful.”  Thank you my friend.  I handed the pamphlet back to the robed fellow who looked disappointed and made my way to my car.  There were four men in the corner of the parking lot selling bogus concert tie dyes.  One of them waved the bright shocking shirt in front of me.  Only $20.  They’re $60 inside.  I don’t have it, I said.  How much you got?  I walked away and counted out a ten and went back.  How much?  $20, he said.  I don’t have it.  How much you got?  $10.  Noooo, noooo.  I started to walk away.  Hold a sec.  What’s your size?  Handed him the cash and drove off with my first tie dye.  Maybe it’s time to buy a Grateful Dead album.

Thank you for reading this.

A view from the Nose Bleeds:

The Dead & Company and a Grateful Dead story to share with you

2/10/16 20:55

Last year, the remaining members of the Grateful Dead announced they would play their last concerts together, it was called the The Fair Thee Well Tour.  It was to celebrate the band’s 50^th anniversary.  There were three shows in Chicago over the Fourth of July Weekend and two in Northern California where the 49ers play their games.  All of the shows were sold out.  The band chose a lottery system, instead of buying your tickets online you needed to write in and request your tickets. I think they were limited to two tickets per winner.  The lucky few who chose to be creative on their envelopes were chosen in another contest, it ensued to who was the most creative as well as lucky.  I didn’t attempt to write in since I was never a real fan of the dead.  Not to suggest I would not go to see them, but spending a pretty hearty sum for a pair of tickets, round trip flights, and hotel room and food and of course the weed smoking luxuries which are part of the experience of the typical Grateful Dead show…it was not something I was willing or afford to attempt.  These were shows for true Dead Heads. The diehards who travelled across the grand country, I mean all of the states following the band when everyone was younger, the Dead Heads sold peanut butter sandwiches to defray the costs of living modestly on the road.  It was a common site to see a Dead Head holding a sign that said, “I need a Miracle,” when they were looking for a ticket.  There was and still is a strong contingent of Dead fans.  I salute their devotion.  I respect their allegiance and commitment to a band who essentially has been null and void since August 9^th 1995 when the Grateful Dead’s supreme leader Jerry Garcia passed away.  The lights were shut off and the Deadheads were lost, perplexed that Jerry was truly dead.  Some Dead Heads have found their new calling, following up with bands like Phish and off shoots of the Grateful Dead like the Lost Ones, Rat Dog, Further, The Dead, and now The Dead & Company, let us not forget Phil Lesh and Friends, Rhythm Devils, Missing Man Formation, and other acts.  All of these incarnations have most deadheads satisfied since they can go to these events and be surrounded with folk who are wishing and searching for something they lost back in 1995.  But the Fair Thee Well concerts was a nice send off and I am happy to say, a good friend of mine, Frank was able to secure tickets and made the trip to Chicago. 

What are DeadHeads thinking when revered Bob Weir hits the stage?  I was watching Dead & Company on YouTube.  Bob’s voice is weaker.  He looks like an old cowboy with a beer belly and a face full of thick grey beard.  He was the kid in The Grateful Dead...decades ago. What is surprising is the new kid in the center of the stage; John Mayer.  A few years ago he listened to a few Dead songs and was hooked.  I can understand his admiration for the Dead.

I’ve been to one Grateful Dead show and this is a story I want to share at the end of this essay since it is an embarrassing story for a couple of parts.  I planned to have a good evening with my buddy Frank and my girlfriend at that time who told me – clearly - she was not into the band or hanging out with my pot smoking long haired Dead Head buddy.  But I knew this was a band I wanted to experience; so in say twenty five years I could write about it here for you.  Frank was and is a true Dead-Head - he's been to 80 plus shows across the nation.  At the concert, we shared some smoke and we had some beers as my girlfriend looked on in shock and disgust.  The concert was at the Meadowlands.  We found our seats and the lights shut off and here were The Grateful Dead jamming while their fans danced and sang along.  It was a jovial event in New Jersey, but the mood shifted once the band started a song called Space.  I was done.  I was not tripping and space sounded like a bad tune up session. By that time, I knew my girlfriend was also finished.  She held her head in her hands and looked bored.  We told Frank we’d meet him outside at the car.   We had better things to do than listen to that…shit.  And we were outside.  Gusts of wind spun newspapers and thin sheets of paper around our legs.  Embers were glowing in spots were a fire had simmered between parked vans.  We found the car.  She was not in the mood since my breath smelled like smoke and I had…beer.  Eventually our boredom was cut when the crowd came out to the parking lot and we waited.  We waited.  The crowd was diminishing and we waited for Frank.  I don’t know where he is.  This was before the luxury of cell phones and we waited a very long time (it’s true and I want to stress it since Frank may read this) and soon burly security guards were yelling at the sedated and passive Dead Heads to Get The Fuck OuTTa Here!  I was not feeling the peace.  A crisp knock on the window, but it wasn’t Frank it was a guard waving to us to the exit.  We should leave, she said.  Give him a few more minutes.  I imagined Frank sharing a beer or passing a joint to a group a ladies and I waited till the guard came back.  “If you don’t leave, I’ll have the cops over here.  You are now trespassing on private property.  Do you understand?”  I nodded.  He nodded.  “Now, get the fuck out of my parking lot you fucking hippie.”  I didn’t have the balls to tell him I was not a hippie since I liked the Bad Brains a hell of a lot more than The Grateful Dead.  I was there for the experience, you know?  He was not the type who would listen or care.  This Saturday, tickets go on sale for the Dead & Company who will play at Citi Field in New York and up in Boston at Fenway.  Frank and I may be going to at least Citi Field.  Thank God for cell phones. 

I bought my ticket….

Thank you for reading this.

A Bomb explodes in Boston a block away from my daughter

There is a lot to write about since this past week I was on vacation.  Let’s start with the bombs in Boston.  That Monday afternoon, I was paying for some food at the super market and had all the kids when Ali called.  She said Amanda just called her and she is Okay, but I will hear soon enough that two bombs exploded in the city.  She was walking towards to finishing line and then the bombs,,,she was safe, but was running away from the explosions with another friend from Simmons.  It was a terrorist act.  Being so far removed from Boston and trying to buffer the kids from what occurred was frustrating.  I wanted to drive up there and take her home. No child of mine should have to experience this.  Soon the rest of them found out what occurred as we turned from the Disney channel and watched the horrific news - a panic set in.   What was that red stuff?  Bella asked as the picture hovered over the sidewalk where blood was splattered, not sure I said, it could be fabric.  Yeah, she said there are a lot of flags there.  Listening to Amanda I could hear the shock in her quiet, shaken voice, that tried to sound controlled.  She repeated like a monk in a mantra, yeah….yeah…yeah after every response.  Evidence of post traumatic stress.  Violence changes life rapidly.  Earlier that day – Patriots day in Boston - she texted me, telling me she was on her way to see the Sox play.  I was happy for her, but she said she missed me.  The city of Boston and The Red Sox have a special place in our lives.   What a general statement without real resonance.  There is a charm Boston retains that appeals to our senses, the way history and dusty decades remain with a New England pride for generations.  Over the years, I brought Amanda to a couple of Sox games.  Once when she was a little girl we flew up there using discounted - standby tickets which someone from Delta lent to me.  For about thirty dollars we flew to Boston and back.  This was before 9/11…and caught a game on a warm autumn day.  Since we flew stand by, flying home was a bit of a challenge; we had to sit separately. It didn’t upset the curious and personable child who bid me farewell and told me she was fine, she sat back in her seat, feet dangling over the seat and struck up a conversation with the woman next to her as I sat alone and pondered how I was going to explain to Ali that our precious five year-old daughter sat next to a stranger on the flight home.  We survived.  After the bombing she was picked up from her dorm by Katie and Ben and brought back to Watertown - where they live - to get out of the city.  It helped, but she was still shaken and did not attend classes on Tuesday.  Simmons College gave the women the option of not attending.  On Wednesday she was back in class and feeling better.   Each day Amanda called Ali or I...yes sometimes I got the call...on the rare chance Ali was not available.  Funny how we always go back to our mothers when we encounter something horrible, but no mother can be prepared to console a child who witnessed two explosions.  Ali was in her element.  By Friday night, after being locked down on campus all day - Mo Cheeks and the rest of Boston and Watertown were dancing in the streets.  We survive through another day and grow stronger, but live with that uneasy feeling - and the unanswered question, why do this? Yesterday, I drove into Citi Field for the first time this season.  This was Bella’s first trip to Citi Field and since she is my baseball buddy as she tells me she is, I felt it was appropriate to ask her if she wanted to go.  Sure was all she responded with.  The other kids could care less about baseball.   Although it was a chilly day we made it to the stadium in about an hour, paid the $20 for parking and passed through security.  I wanted Bella to experience the rotunda at Citi Field, and pointed out the pictures of Jackie Robinson, one with them at a graduation procession and she was impressed with the link to history.  We went to the fan center where kids can play waffle ball and other games and then bought some pizza.  Standing while the national anthem played, with our hands on our hearts, we then took an escalator up to our section 307.  After an inning there it was due time for my sausage and peppers and down we went to find the vendor. I bought her some ice cream as well and we shared a Pepsi.  The wind was picking up, foolishly I wore shorts and we were in the shade.  It was freezing.  The seats will be perfect if it was raining, but it was cold and she didn’t want to move to the warm open seats in the sun light in case we were kicked out.  So we stayed and watched The Mets come back and then headed off to our car and drove to Queen’s museum.  I asked if she wanted to see the globe from the World’s fair and she did…after that I drove around the expressway and felt my steering wheel pull to the right, I thought some part or belt came lose or was damaged.  A van passed us and the passenger pointed to my front wheel, You Gotta Flat!  I changed it with the Manhattan skyline in the distance and gave Bella a lesson on changing tires.  It was the first time I changed a tire in years and felt lucky, it was not raining or bitter cold.  We were done and back on the road to home.   After a dinner at Friendly’s – it was her choice, we watched some videos on You Tube, decent music like The Clash and Cracker (her request) Fishbone, Problems Arise and I played Camper Van Beethoven, Take the Skinheads Bowling, which is now one of her favorite songs.  This morning we came downstairs, I gave her the medication and she played Take the Skinheads Bowling and sang along to it….Everyday I wake up and pray to Jah…  

A Day off to watch history RA Dickey wins 20 games

I sent an email to my manager that I’d like to take the day off. The reaction from most is, I hope everything is all right. Granted I worked from home on Monday since Ali was fatigued the night before and I felt it was better to work from home. In fact I hope to talk to Karen about working from home more often, but that is not the theme for this entry. I put in for the day since I jotted down in my calendar it was the Mets last home game of the season and they were playing the Pittsburgh Pirates. The decision was sealed since it was RA Dickey’s attempt at winning 20 games. Hope everything is all right…even though I took some calls and answered some emails, I took the day off. I even went back to sleep after dropping off the kids around 9 since I could. Ali went in for radiation. When I got up I took a long shower, shaved and dressed and went to the barber. My hair needed a cut as well as my goatee which is staying put for as long as I hear how good it looks. Thank you. John the barber has a new born at home and I was his only patron at that time. He looked tired. We bull shitted for awhile, but in any conversation there comes the time when there should be a lull even silence. I always give him some ideas to promote his business. I repeat the same thing each time I’m there. He likes the ideas. He has hired another barber, but I can hear behind his optimism some dread that business may not improve. Then he catches himself, like a cycle, his revolves from bad to good and spurts something positive. I don’t like when anyone says, maybe God has something against me. Don't be dramatic. He adds,just when I think business is good, it’s not. Onto baseball. Earlier in the baseball season I read RA Dickey’s book. I can’t recall if I reviewed in my blog, but if I did here is how I feel about the man. RA Dickey has taken his share of abuse, both physically and mentally. He was sexually abused by a babysitter as well as an older boy in his neighborhood. My heart went out to him since his depiction is similar to many others, although their lives are deeply traumatized and scarred. Dickey did not let these incidents define him. He didn't seem to dwell in the trauma. As he grew up he was a solid pitching prospect, but after a physical it was determined he was born without an integral ligament in his pitching elbow, this is why his arm can never straighten itself. He almost had a professional contract but after the physical it was taken back and he lived the hard life of minor leaguer trying to raise a family. His faith is strong and this brought him through some tough times…so briefly this is the Cinderella story we all dream about. Good guy who lives though tough times but makes it. So he makes it the Mets and last year was a break-out season for him. The Mets fans love him, but more he is a knuckle-ball pitcher. Their pitches are difficult to hit when their pitch is on, but when it’s not – it could be home run derby. Yesterday he pitched quickly through the first, I noticed he had little patience for the batter, he would set up and then have to take a break and wait and then set up for the pitch. Most of the time when I'm at a game,I like when the fans, who are strangers start to talk to one another, sharing their opinions and memories and even giving one another high fives as if they are on the team. I don’t like when the opinions become conversations. Keep em to yourself. In New York we all have opinions and can talk to anyone within seconds. I came to this game to see a game not to listen to you. I turn around and face the field where the action is. Baseball is all about sequences and position. The perfect competitive match is between a batter and pitcher, trying to figure out what each other has and waiting for the pitch. Dickey was hit fairly hard in the second and it appeared he may lose the game. That was until Ike Davis hit a home-run to right. He is another success story who made an incredible switch from a slumping player about to be called down to the minors to a power hitter with more than thirty homeruns this season. But the Pirates came back and once again it looked like The Mets would lose. The crowd cheered for Dickey, each time he was up at bat or had a strikeout, yesterday he had 13 which tied his highest in a game. After he walked off the field in the seventh, with more than a hundred pitches it was assumed he was out of the game. Not Dickley, he walk out to the field with his heavy bat and hit a slow roll to third which died in the grass as he ran full steam to first and was safe. That's one of the pictures. This meant he was coming out to pitch in the eighth. It was amazing since most pictures are pulled when they reach 100 pitches. By this time I moved down from the heights of jets that were landing at LaGuardia to field level, back among the living crowd who concentrated on history. We stood back as RA struck out the first two Pirate batters but after a 0 and 2 and then a full count he walked the third batter…and Terry Collins the manager took him out. Dickey gave the fans everything he could and so did Collins who moved Dickey up in the rotation to pitch yesterday. He wanted to give his pitcher the opportunity to seal his incredible 20th win in front of the home crowd. So we left the stadium and were jam packed in the parking lot, the smiles faded as cars barely budged. Even as we rolled into rush hour traffic among the obnoxious drivers those twenty to thirty thousand who were at the game enjoyed the day off from their lives and for a few hours shared this New York moment.