Promotion with a purpose

It’s a new year. Not only that, but it’s a new decade. We can shake off the…what would you call the last decade – darn it’s not like the sixties or the seventies. The two thousands? And now getting into the tens and elevens and such. I made a promise to myself that I would look into ways to promote Killer Commute beginning this month. Here’s the thing, we get so excited about the potential – the endless possibilities that our future holds. But when it gets time to work…some of us falter. I’m guilty of it. Like I said I made a promise to myself. This time it’s going to be different. I proved I can write a novel. I proved that I can get it accepted. Let me add a few stories were accepted for some web sites as well. All of this takes time, and now is the next bold step. Promote Killer Commute and myself as a novelist. I think of my grandmother who said, “Self praise is no praise.” But this is different. I’m not praising myself, but instead the novel. It’s a great book that appeals to a large segment of our society – the commuters on the train.
I’m writing this on the train. I’m not in my usual seat with Mike the cop across the aisle from me. Just put my iPod in my ear since we’re approaching St James and there’s one character that gets on and used to sit next to me. The ear phones are in, and listening to Echo’s A Promise. There are a lot of people getting on. And guess what…he sits next to me.
Let’s talk about dedicating time. This is what I need to follow up on. So Champaign mentioned I should get into chat rooms or something similar. Mention the book. There is also an article in the Daily News that pertains to commuting and this would be a great outlet. I will submit the essay to the Long islander. I can talk to Katherine at work since she used to work there. My friend who is sitting across from me doesn’t know why I’m not talking to him. Dude, I’m working here. “I’m walking here!” Ratso Ritzo yells out and bangs the hood of the taxi. We’re in Smithtown and I’m babbling. I don’t mean to waste your time with babble. So there’s the article in the Long Islander and the Daily News. I will locate some mystery chat rooms. Come to think of it, perhaps an interview with my friend across the pond? Next week I plan on speaking at Toastmasters about writing the book and getting it published. There’s a few things right there.
So what does it take to promote? It takes some assistance from others. What about my Father-In-Law who does PR for the school district? I need to ask Ali what she thinks.
Before you know it, the novel is published. This is anticipated for a June 2010 release. Before then I would like to have some book stores lined up for a reading and signing. Any yet Champaign wants us to focus on the EBOOK. The almighty EBOOK that would be more profitable for all of us. There are a few Kindle readers on the train, but by far most of us read books. We like feeling the weight of a book in our hands, creasing the papers, lending it to others and eventually storing it our shelves.
“I’m jumbled up…maybe I’m losing my touch…but you know I didn’t have it any other way…” Echo and The Bunnymen - Rescue.
My friend sat down right next to me. Don’t know why, but I got up and moved my seat across from him. The train is going to be packed. I should move my bag that’s on the seat next to me. I should. If someone asks I will move it.
So, where will I start? Putting together a list of mystery book stores in the area. These includes Pennsylvania and Mass….check web sites for Mystery Press readers groups and share the good news about Killer Commute….a unique mystery for the commuter…
We’re pulling out of Kings Park. I get off in Huntington, but I really don’t want to lift my head up. My fellow commuter is just hanging on and waiting for the moment when we can make eye contact and he can say something about my laptop and he can tell me about his and his music and his music systems for his DJing gigs – I heard it. Let me write and look up a few times…
”What are you writing?” You must be busy with work.”
The train is moving through a slight snow shower. Blowing white strands on the rusty tracks. Inside the commuters are maintaining the silence. Stuck in their distinct worlds, caring less about the person just inches from their bodies. Northport…and this is where the most get on board. They are waiting outside the door, and slowly making their way inside, walking up the three steps.

Next day, and I’m home sitting in the dining room typing this. One of our cats is cleaning herself in the sun flowing in like a stretched rectangle. It’s quiet in this house. At this moment. Today is Bella’s birthday. She’s the youngest and so full of life. I want to prove to all of my children our dreams can be fulfilled with hard work, being responsible and faith in God…live a life with purpose…

when the flu strikes a mother the house is not the same

Mothers are not supposed to get sick. Mothers are the spine in the family. They snuggle with the kids and keep them warm at night. They listen. Mothers go out food shopping. Keeping stock of what’s in the fridge, and like clock-work swoop into the supermarket and self check out with coupons and are back in time to be at the bus stop. They pick up the oldest at the high school. Comfort the youngest who was up the night before throwing up twice and changed the sheets each time. Dried off the remains as best as possible and sprinkled baby powder on the mattress. It works wonders. Keep it in mind. But this was not the work of a mother. It was me. I dropped off the young ones at their schools and picked up the middle one at the junior high since she was not feeling well. And then took the youngest to the Pediatrician. My wife wrote down the youngest symptoms. Like I wouldn’t remember them all. 103, complains of dizziness, throwing up. Bella woke up a few times in the middle of the night and would wrap her sweaty arm around me. Ali slept in Amanda’s room and Emma and Amanda slept in one bedroom. Joe slept in his room.
Cleaned – floors, windows and dishes, clothes, towels, sheets and and over and vacuumed the living room and our bed room. There is still a lot to do.
Mothers are not allowed to get sick. Ali was hit with the flu the week before and on Sunday we were in the emergency room. Her quota was up. Yesterday, she seemed better. She is getting better. Bella’s fever dropped down and Emma did not have a fever last night. I dropped off Amanda and Joe at the in-laws. The sick ones get to spend Election Day together.
I “worked” from home yesterday. The best I could. I had to take Bella to the doctors and held her since she was scared of a throat culture. Then we were off to the radiologists since they wanted to make sure her lungs were clear. They were. But she was frightened since she did not know what to expect.
I’m on the train. Took a run this morning and will open up the King book I’m reading. I really can use more sleep. I can, but I’ll get through it. Just like the sick ones. It won’t last.

I need to begin promoting Killer Commute. I need to see the contract. I want to sign it and send it back…

Baseball Project and slipping back to 1984

So what’s it like seeing The Baseball Project. A year after their release, Mike Sweeney, Jeff Parkhurst and I were in front of the stage. A month or so after we bought the tickets – we stood close – almost arm in arm like survivors. Having ignored the lack of sleep; our tired middle aged bodies made it to the Bowery Ballroom. Before such an event – I struggle with the thought. I knew it would be a late night. Damn, did they really need to play to midnight? Did they really need to hit the stage at 9 PM? Why did I have to be late?
Ali dropped out since this was back to school night at the high school. Eric dropped out since it was back to school for Eileen. And I could not get any replacements. I should have called Frank, but it was back to school night for him I assumed. Dennis couldn’t make it. Not even for a drink.
I drove up from Philadelphia. I was there a couple of days for a cold chain session and stayed at the Courtyard. The hotel is across from the city hall building. I was late leaving the city since I had to wait for an hour for Les. I agreed to drive him back into the city – so he could catch a train at Penn to take him back to the island. 76 was slow, but once we hit 476 and 276 – traffic moved very well. There was little traffic on the turnpike. We stopped at a rest stop where I filled the tank with cheaper New Jersey gas, and bought some horrible food at an Arby’s. But we were starving. It was close the 7 when we stopped. Les hoped to make an 8:06 from Penn, but he hit the sidewalk around ten after. And this was after taking the Holland Tunnel – I don’t like tunnels. By the time I dropped him off, and made my way to the Bowery – I knew I was running late.
Damn the GPS. It kept announcing “calculating route…” but I got out of the car on Bowery – close to Grant and felt I was close to Delancy. MTS suggested I head up down – away from China town and this led me away from Delancy. I asked a street cop where Delancey was. I went in a full circle and after sweating in the late summer humidity and feeling beater that beat – we walked down the staircase to the Bowery Ballroom and heard the song – Ted Fucking Williams. The guard said we only missed the first song. I’d like to know what it was.
It’s been a little more than twenty five years, when Mr. Feinstein and his wife took me and Bob Miller and Dave to see REM in concert and the opening act Dream Syndicate. Mr. Feinstein saw my REm T-shirt when I was in summer school and he told they were playing out east and he’d be happy to take me. I brought a tape player and made a fake ID – WNPT radio and laminated the homemade card with Scotch tape. We drank beers with our teacher. High School kids with a slight buzz. I asked where press would go and I was directed out of a side door at the Roller Skating rink in Setauket. There was a long bus as well as sleeper vans and Bill Berry was there in his white cowboy boots. He swore I was someone from Athens – happy to see me again – and I explained who I was and why I was there – to interview him and the rest of REM.
We set up the interview in the camper, and were joined by Michael Stipe – who sat in for most of the time. He had black fabric Chinese slippers on. A few days later, I found a pair for sale at the Commack Flea Market as well as a small handbag. I think I bought his somewhere as well. Peter Buck was by far the most energetic and outgoing. Berry was just as cool, but the band could sense I was not there as a reporter – though I had twenty minutes with the band. I discussed my REM dreams and asked about songs. There were a couple of lulls and I would ask Bill how was I doing – “You’re doing fine…keep firing away…”
Last Wednesday must have been about the tenth time I met Buck. He was signing CD’s and I shook his hand and introduced myself. I was a little buzzed after a couple of beers and might have appeared worse off, with my loose belt and disheveled appearance. Got a CD signed, and went back up to the floor.
The show was great. I was surprised they played as many Dream Syndicate songs. And I was brought back to the roller skating rink – summer of 84 and hanging out with Bob Miller and seeing Steve Wynn back in the parking lot and interviewing Dennis Duck. It was a short interview – since I didn’t buy the latest Dream Syndicate record at the time – Medicine Show – and he was upset – he caught on – the interview was a waste of time – for both of us. I wanted to interview Steve. Steve seemed more appealing and interesting for the wanna be rock star/journalist/fan I was back then.
The Days of Wine and Roses!

Auto Train to Orlando

Last night we arrived at the Springfield, VA Courtyard a little after 9 PM. The pool was closing so we changed quickly and enjoyed the hot tub and pool. A father and his two daughters joined in and soon the kids were eying each other suspiciously and doing their own thing. The father took over the hot tub, and we dried off and headed off to the courtyard. It was warm last night. I bought a beer, and we headed back to the room. Lights were off a quarter to 11. By 6 AM I was awake and ready to go. I finished up some work, and wrote my weekly while the rest of the bums got dressed, took showers and watched the Disney Channel.
We ate breakfast, really brunch at Bob Evans, I had eggs and pancakes and sausage and OJ and coffee. The food wasn’t too bad, but the waitress had an extremely dry sense of humor. Not sure how he day was going, but she told us she was there since 5:15.
Afterwards, knowing we had time to kill, we drove to DC and went to FDR’s memorial. It’s a beautiful display, using boulders and water, and is the only presidential memorial which includes the first lady. Took some pictures with Amanda standing next to the statue.
We’ve been at the Larton terminal since 1 PM. This is our first time and we didn’t know what to expect. Not sure if our seats would be next to one another. The process was very easy. We drove the car, checked in and watched as our car was inspected and videotaped, since they wanted to make sure there were no erroneous claims of damage. I took Bell and Joe outside for a walk. We had an hour and half to kill. The depot building is very roomy and bright. The building is air conditioned and modern. A TV is playing in the corner, and there is a small café, a shop really in one corner. From the look of it, the place appears to be in Florida.
It appears as if people are boarding though there was no announcement made. Just waiting for Ali to get back since she bought TUMS. This place is emptying fast. Time to go?
We’re on the train. There is a lot of room. It’s very comfortable. Whoever is sitting behind me is playing with the foot rests. The seat is knocking. There is a family next and behind us. This is not going to be a quiet train, but let’s see how it works out. I can use an ADVIL.
Instead of Advil I had a couple of beers. Dinner was served at 5 PM and 7 PM – we chose the early dinner since there was a movie playing for the kids at 7…I had cod and veggies and rice. The food was very good. With dinner came white wine and water and choices like iced tea and apple juice for the kids. They were given the choice of chicken fingers, and mac and cheese. There was a lot of food. The other options were a beef or veggie lasagna. The settings were pleasant, a flower on each table as well as silverware, but the cups were plastic, as well as the plates. For dessert we had cheese cake with a couple of options, either covered in strawberry or chocolate.
Overall it was quiet, but one neighbor watched a movie on his laptop and the language was not appropriate for children. A couple had two little ones on-board and it took them a long time to fall asleep. Music came over the loud speaker but was shut off close of 8 PM and soon after lights were shut down and we got comfortable.
Sleeping was a little bit of a challenge. Trying to get my 6 foot 4 body comfortable – even in reclining chairs was interesting. I bent my legs and curled in the seat, and propped the small pillow on a corner as well as my sweat pants.
I’m typing this, knowing we’re expected to arrive an hour earlier. Amanda and I had breakfast and met an older couple from Florida. Cereal as well as warm bagels and muffins were served, coffee and OJ as well. A good start to the vacation…rise and shine we are in Florida.

Much To Do

Went running earlier. Twenty nine minutes and we’re pulling out of Stony Brook.
This past weekend we left Amanda in Hyde Park. She was accepted into a wonderful program – Young Women’s Leadership Group, which is organized by the Eleanor Roosevelt Foundation. Today she’s taking a hike, and this week this she will meet with global leaders at the UN and work in various shelters, clinics and bring back a new maturity as well as a transformed outlook on life. It’s an incredible opportunity. When we pulled out of the town, I reminded myself of her first full day at school. The school picked. Full day kindergarten. Most of us took half days, but it’s a new requirement for the school districts, and we must have been one of the first. She took those first steps into the bus and started talking to the little girl next to her and did not notice that her parents we’re outside, watching and waiting for a sign that she was alright. The same happened on Saturday. We brought her to her dorm room, and she wanted us out as soon as we were there. The last we saw her was at Val Kill – home for Eleanor and where Amanda would spend most of her time. Ali started bawling. Amanda did not.
Yesterday, we went to church. The children that were in the Vacation Bible School performed songs and read. There were more children in the program than previous years, and the stage was packed. At first Isabella did not want to perform and then got up there and smiled away, although she was in the corner and sort of under the balcony. Joe read and I was very proud of him, and on our way home I told him it took a lot of courage to get up there. Emma Tess looked like she was just going through the motions. She was tired. Slept over her friend’s house the previous nights and explained to Ali she only slept 14 hours the previous nights.
So I’m here in Huntington. Let me go back to this weekend since it was the first time I saw JP Groenger in over fifteen years. My old friend from St Phillips is in the production – Much To Do About Nothing – I thought he was incredible. Jape has come a long way from the motorcycle, Harley Davidson bell bottom blue jean days…I would like to hang out with him and catch up after all these years and we just might to that. I brought Emma and Isabella since the performance was outside. I thought it would be a good opportunity for them to see Shakespeare. We brought chairs and snacks and overall had a good time. It was a beautiful day. A steady breeze blew through the trees and the clear sky without a hint of humidity was a perfect addition to the play. Afterwards, I went up to Jape who looked at me for a few moments, studying my face and not sure if it was me….Mike Gordon?” He was very warm and was excited to see me and more – so grateful that I came.
After the play we went home. I ate a lunch and went out to Riverhead to see a baseball game – Riverhead Tomcats vs. Long island Mustangs. This is a college league. The game was played at Riverhead High, just a half hour from home or twenty miles. By the time I got there the game was in the third inning. I saw one kid hit a dinger – in fact he hit the fence a couple of other times. Tonight the league is playing their all-star game. Last year I brought Isabella to the game and we saw a short stop make incredible defensive plays and hit two dingers. He’s playing for the Oneonta Tigers –Chris Sedon. I hope to catch him playing against the Brooklyn Cyclones this later next month.
So what are you writing? I was thinking of this story for some time. Oldest daughter is taking care of her sisters and brother while Mom is working. Parents are divorced. School is out and she’s finding ways to keep them entertained. There are chores and there conflicts. The oldest would tell stories and the younger sister and brother always ask her to tell a new story. It’s different from the others since I’m using my children as references. Isabella is always asking me to tell her a story, and normally it’s the same two stories I’ve told her before. This one would evolve since the oldest is creating a sense of adventure. I’m imagining the father as being a pirate who tries to kidnap the others. In reality the father is trying to get the kids back as the mother struggles – works two and a half jobs and the bills are just getting paid….
The train in pulling into the station and it’s time for me to write…

Reformed Immigration Policy

Immigration is a loaded word. Depending on how you feel, there are those who foam at the mouth at the slightest suggestion of the word. For those, images are conjured up, dark men sneaking under fences, raising our crime rate and raping our women. Huddled men standing in parking lots waiting and begging to work. There are others who like me are taking a stand for immigration reform because of my Christian values (read Romans) and standing apart from some of my xenophobic neighbors. There is a distinction between begging for money and working for the money. There is great disparity between the man who asks for money for his next “escape,” and the other who support his family from hundreds of miles away. This also applies to my sisters who cross the border and are subjected to harsh treatment and many suffering in modern day slavery.
What causes my point of view? After taking two trips to Guatemala and seeing firsthand the squalor and extreme poverty, I can tell you that to survive in some parts of the country are limited. Statistics have proven the average age of a Guatemalan is 45 years old, and the life expectancy is 62. There is little work and minimal if any support from the government. Years before during a famine in El Matasano mothers had to choose which child survived and which starved to death. Imagine the horror of listening to the screams across the village. My church is working with a local agriculture committee and assisting to install micro drip irrigation systems. Not only are the families surviving, they are able to sell their extra food to earn an income. Keeping the men in the villages that are vital in their families and communities. But not all villages have this sort of assistance. What options do they have?
Here are a few myths that need to be addressed and can be researched. Most immigrants are illegal. More than seventy percent are legal residents. My Irish mother is one. Most crimes are committed by illegal immigrants. This is another fallacy The FBI reports – How about a drain on our health care? Not true. Over two billion dollars are collected by social security and never collected. Immigrants cannot seek health care unless it’s an emergency.
Franklyn was concerned about the Germans who were taking over his Pennsylvania, “ “So if the Germans, who were persecuted and suffered from prejudiced men, how did the Native Americans treat us? The land was a gift from God. They could not understand why we wanted to trade for land. What fools we must have appeared like, but is power the answer. We’re on the face of the earth for a short period. Imagine if we could live in peace.
So, what are the root causes for immigration and what can I do to show my support for my brothers and sisters in Jesus’ name? Write an essay? Sure I can do that, my intention is to look for others support and show my support. How? By finding other groups who support immigration reform.
When a man is stabbed by a group of young men there is an underlying hatred that is percolating in some parts of this island. When most a family is killed by an arsonist since the landlord removed the fire escape, there is a need to take a stand and unite. When a family walks through our neighborhood, we say hello and welcome. Just a smile can be a beautiful act of kindness and peace that can transcend the violence. In Jesus’ name I commit myself to this cause.

Joe's Birthday

My son’s birthday was today. This morning he woke up while I was downstairs watching the rain and wondering if today’s softball game was a rain out. It was. I put on my Chuck Taylors and made it outside to retrieve the paper, and made some coffee and had an oatmeal breakfast ball. By 8 AM, I asked Ali if she wanted to make it to the 9 O’clock service, but she was too comfortable in the dark warm room. I wanted to climb back in even with the birthday boy. There’s little room in the bed. We’re getting to the point when there’s barely an inch on the mattress.
So, here I am. Back on the blog and getting some words down. It’s been weeks and I’ve slipped from my goals. I wanted to submit something each week, but there’s been little time or the options I have are either rest and let the mind go blank with some mindless TV or something else, but don’t put the demand on. And if I continue to choose to do nothing I will have nothing at the end of the year. The decision is mine.
What did you do today? Went to church and after went for a run. Eileen and Eric and the boys stopped over. Went to see Kyle Okopuso – Islanders and got him to sign the year book and an Isles book I bought on EBay with signatures from the some of the dynasty players. Kyle was cool. There was no line, one good reason to show up a half hour before the signing was over! I’m old enough to be his father. Went to dinner at Friendly’s and we’re back for the night.
As I’m writing this, watching MLB and I’m considering starting a fantasy team. Last season I thought I’d give the NFL a shot and I made the playoffs. I didn’t do anything.
The choice is mine.