THE SCORE AT THE SHORE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (07-01-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Just as we were about to leave last Thursday afternoon for a long Father's Day weekend at the Jersey shore, an extraordinary thing happened: the United States Congress did something. It made a federal holiday out of June 19th, also known as "Juneteenth." It commemorates the day that the Union proclaimed it was going to enforce the abolition of slavery in Texas, the last state to do so. It's a day that should clearly remind us how easy it is for greed to attempt to justify something unjustifyable. And how carefully we must protect the mainstream press, voting rights and everything that keeps democracy from being taken over by the greedy.

     It's also a day that resulted in the confluence of TWO holidays, which meant an extra hour of traffic on the Garden State. If I shorten the name of the holiday to "Junth" I can get an earlier start on the Tappan Zee Bridge. My sisters come from up and down the Eastern Seaboard to spend a little time together by the sea with me and their kids.

     On Father's Day, dads ride for free at the Castaway Cove amusement park. They used to ask to see your kids so they could confirm that you're an actual dad. We had four dads and only one baby, so we were thinking we could pass the baby down the line as handed them our tickets, but luckily it didn't come to that. I'm not one to look down on anybody, but the ferris wheel is my favorite, because the beach looks like an ant farm from up there. It's much more pleasant than thinking the same thing about my kitchen counter.

     At night we traveled over the bridge to Somers Point in search of beer, since Ocean City is a dry town. Nightlife was almost back. Almost, because staffing is short these days; some blame plentiful unemployment checks, others blame stagnant pay, but it may just be that in a strange year of peaks and valleys, people have shifted their priorities. One restaurant said that their new chef was arriving July 1st, he's probably also stuck somewhere on the Garden State. Also, all the pool tables are missing in action, either to make room for regular tables, or a casualty of coronavirus overzealousness. If anyone ever caught covid from handling the balls, they certainly never told anyone about it.

     In the morning you can bicycle the two-plus mile boardwalk, and you'll have plenty of competition. You'll be sharing the road with strollers, strollers pushing strollers, joggers with no pressing engagements, power-walkers, scooters, e-scooters, e-bikes, surreys and parents teaching their kids how to almost run into me with their bicycles. I even saw a guy on a goofy eliptical contraption, looking very smug as if he knew the exact opposite of what I was thinking. It's a jungle out there, and everyone is vying for position, because someone is always trying to pass somebody who is trying to pass somebody else, and it's the same with the people going in the other direction. But it's a pleasant ride, and I realized that the only reason I have to try to go any faster is to get to the end quicker so I can relax sooner. Maybe I should just relax first and see what happens. I saw a young mom pushing a pram with a cute baby in it, and I could fast forward in my head 80 years to see it the other way around.

     This year we saw something a little different: a handler walking around the boardwalk with a falcon on his arm. I thought that they could have been on a date but it turns out the town hired falconers to parade around with birds of prey to scare off the seagulls. It seems to work, and the seagulls can be intimidating. Even as we were on the boardwalk eating doughnuts, a tern swooped down and grabbed my neice's doughnut and almost flew away with the whole thing. It was a scary Hitchcockian moment, and I immediately rushed over to her to find out if the doughnut was okay. Then, after the birds of prey appeared on the boardwalk, there was not even a pickled herring gull to be seen, although the falcons made off with a family of six.

     And when I looked around and saw that there was finally a decent parking spot, I realized it was Sunday, and our long weekend was shorter than I hoped. I figured if we leave early enough we can beat next year's traffic.

HOME FIELD ADVANTAGE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (06-24-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Well folks, we're almost to the finish line of this nasty little pandemic. We socially distanced, we wore our masks, we washed our hands while we sang "Happy Birthday" twice and we got our vaccinations, twice. And what's our reward? We're getting kicked out of our own homes. We're going to have to go back to work pretty soon, and I don't know if I'm physically, emotionally and spiritually ready for that yet.

     What is my dog going to do if I'm not around to take her for a walk every day down the street? The dog enjoys the exercise, and I enjoy watching others exercise from a safe distance where I can tell them that they're doing it wrong. What's going to happen when I try to explain to my boss that I just can't lose all that quality time with the children? It would be easier to explain if I had children. 

     Working from home, I can fit in a nap on the rare occasion that I need one, such as when I'm awake. I feel that my productivity will suffer if I can't turn on "Forensic Files" at any time of the day and sleep for 45 minutes on the couch. By the time I wake up, detectives have circled back to the husband, who made a Google search of, "How to Kill Your Wife Without 'Forensic Files' Ever Finding Out About It."

     It's going to cost me money to go back to work, since I've been saving money on commuting costs by not taking the train to my living room. I don't have to dry clean my sweatpants, you're lucky if I wet clean them, which reminds me, I guess I should do that. When I go out for lunch, are they expecting ME to pay for it, even though I'm only there because THEY told me I had to be? I'm going to need a job to pay for all this.

     When my office returns to work it will probably be in a hybrid capacity. That model gives you the best of both worlds. Let me use a hybrid dog as an example, a Cockadoodle for instance. Through the magic of crossbreeding, you get the annoying bark of the poodle, and the incessant shedding of the Cocker spaniel.

     It's impossible to find housing right now, but yet about 80 percent of office space is pretty much just sitting around doing the crossword puzzle. Why don't we just let people live in their offices? Hey, we put a couch in your office and set up that nice kitchenette in the employee lounge, with a fridge and a microwave, and we're paying all this rent, so.... And while you're there, maybe you could catch up on the accounts receivable? Pretty soon we'll be back to business as usual, working from home, only the home is right there in the office. The whole is so diabolical I might just pitch it to the conspiracy theory nuts.

     I'll be returning to different office, because a new client is taking over our old suite. I got a look at our new digs, and they still had everyone's stuff strewn about when they started working from home, as if they left in a panic when the police found out what they were doing there. It was creepy, almost like Pompeii had offices in Manhattan. 

     We visited Pompeii once and it was really interesting, but people were actually frozen in time with an ashen look on their face. Whenever I'm staying near a volcano, I stand around a lot with my arm outstretched and my other hand on my chest like I'm giving an oration, just in case I'm frozen in time. I don't want to be caught clipping my toenails with the Hallmark Channel on.

     I can see why employers are having such a hard time finding people to work. It's more comfortable to be at home on the couch with your onesie on. But as tough as it's going to be on me, I can imagine what it's going to be like for airline pilots and highway pavers not to be able to work from home anymore. But the upside is that it means we are getting back to normal, and that's good. In fact, Governor Cuomo has just announced that because New Yorkers have been so vigilant in containing the coronavirus, my brain can now operate at its full 25 percent capacity.

HITTING THE START BUTTON

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (06-17-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     I'm a musician at times, and I play in local eateries and drinkeries, so I like to go out and "take the temperature of the room," so to speak, and at least I'm polite enough not to take it the way my Mom used to take mine. Last weekend was the first time in quite a long time that the new normal seemed pretty close to the old normal. Coronavirus seemed like something that has gone the way of your "Partridge Family" lunchbox, Sea Monkeys and the cassette deck. I hope not because I still use my cassette deck.

     I went to one of my favorite hangouts, someplace I frequent every 15 months or so, and all the familiar bartenders were back at their battle stations. "The usual?" Alan asked without missing a beat, and produced it, and that's why real bartenders are professionals who are part of a culture that we've been missing out on during the pandemic. It includes being pampered a little bit, having someone cook for you, play for you, make your drink and bring it to you. Yes, I wish I could still wear my slippers and a bathrobe when I go out. Some habits are hard to break.

     The experience also includes being around other people, watching what they do when they're letting loose. It's how society evolves. It rubs off on you, and makes you feel like your good time is part of a bigger picture. It's also good to know that there are people out there who dance worse than I do.

     The scientists at the party lab weren't sitting idle all this time. They were hard at work developing new technologies for me to make fun of. The veejay was playing video versions of popular songs, and in the lower left hand corner of the screen, pictures of people in the crowd taken on their phones and texted to a certain number immortalized them for several moments, for a small fee I would guess.... 

     Although the quality of the photos looked like a cross between people just coming out of anesthesia and "The Blair Witch Project," the possibility of being discovered by a modeling agency that specializes in DWI mug shots more than made up for it. I wondered to myself, who's behind the wheel at the Standards and Practices Department for this? What if someone follows me into the bathroom and broadcasts a picture of me in a compromising position? Luckily there are no reports of me ever compromising.

     Just then the veejay vaulted out of his booth with what looked like a giant fire extinguisher and sprayed it into the crowd. I wish I had brought my chemical spectrum analysis equipment with me so I could determine if it was toxic or not. The last time I saw something like that, The Penguin had shot it out of his umbrella, and everyone dropped dead, temporarily. For all I know maybe somebody was on fire and I should be hailing the veejay as an American hero, but people just kept on dancing as if people spray with them stuff all the time.

     Music hasn't advanced much during the quarantine era. I'm not going to sound like your Dad or preach you a sermon on it or anything, but thou shouldst have something that resembles a melody as you cometh to the finish line of writing your song. One masterpiece had the lyrics printed right on the screen, and, like when somebody shows you their surgery scar, it doesn't improve the experience to actually see it right there in front of you. If Nicki Minaj has a secret admirer on the Pulitzer Committee, the joke will be on me.

     Someone broke a glass on the dance floor, and a gal took the time to clean up the mess. I thanked her and said, "You'd think someone who works here might do that," and she said, "I used to work here myself." So I guess the big rebound is going to be a work in progress. But in a flash I realized that I was nitpicking, curmudgeoning and complaining about anything and everything just like before, and it was a joyous revelation. That's when I'm seeing the world as it really is and enjoying my place in it. My personal pandemic is over.

ALMOST FORGOT TO REMEMBER

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (06-10-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     To some, Memorial Day means a weekend at the shore, or at a summer house. We decided to get away to, (wait for it), Poughkeepsie. We didn't want to travel too far or get mired in traffic, and it was going to be a rainy weekend at the summer house, and further, we don't have a summer house. Every hotel in the tri-state area was either booked or charging exorbitant rates, but we managed to find a reasonably-priced motel that appeared to a great place to hole up after committing a series of felonies. That doesn't bother me, I've stayed in great hotels, and I've stayed in lousy hotels, and the shower head doesn't come up past the small of my back in either one. 

     The crappy weather didn't stop us from going to the local tavern, and proof of vaccinations meant no masks. It was so vibrant it felt like the scene in "The Wizard of Oz" where the movie goes from black-and-white to color. The evening felt shot out of a cannon and it was a pleasure to see, but it's worth noting that 20-something girls with masks on used to screech more quietly. 

     A gaggle of them on a bachelorette's night out had me surrounded within seconds. "We're on a scavenger hunt...." "And let me guess," I interrupted, "You're looking for either an 'old dude' or an actual scavenger, correct?" "NO," they all said at once, "Is your name 'Roman?'" I'm of Swedish descent, but I suggested, "You might have to go all the way to Rome to find someone whose name is Roman, but there's a Rome right here in New York. It's about 150 miles from here." (They eventually found a guy named Roman, and I'm assuming the wedding was back on.)

     The next day's weather was still uncooperative, so we hung out at the indoor pool for a while, then ventured out to browse the Frances Lehman Loeb Art Center at Vassar College. It contains works dating from the Hudson River School to the modern masters. Highly recommended, especially for rainy days in Poughkeepsie. There was a Jackson Pollack, and I'd like to think I could do something almost as good by parking my car's leaky oil pan over a tight canvas for a couple days. Well, why didn't I? Because I couldn't fit my car through the art studio door, smarty-pants. There are also works by O'Keefe and Picasso, among many others. I always wonder what would have happened if Picasso became an architect instead.

     When it cleared up we went for a walk with Gidget-the-Dog at the Nyquist-Harcourt Wildlife Sanctuary in New Paltz. It felt good to get a little exercise, and I feel more physically fit if my clothes physically fit. The property has at least 120 species of birds and fields full of wildflowers surrounding a large pond. We saw at least four and twenty blackbirds, and also a great blue heron, and that's a lot of name to live up to.

     After we got home I realized I had lost one of my sandals at the motel pool. Maybe someday the Beautiful Princess who worked at the front desk would find me. "I know why you're here!" I'd say. "See that zucchini over there? One magical night it turned into a Dodge Dart and carried me to your motel! You see that football cap and baseball jacket? They turned into a beautiful ball tuxedo. You see those ants on the kitchen drainboard? They aren't in the story but I can't figure out how to get rid of them. You found my other sandal didn't you, and now I can live happily ever after!" She says, "No, your credit card was denied."

     This year a trip to the Art Center and nature sanctuary made for an uncharacteristically quiet Memorial Day weekend. But you don't have to have a parade or go anywhere boisterous on Memorial Day if you don't feel like it. All you have to do is remember, all by yourself if you want. Remember what it must have been like, remember what someone's family feels, remember what it was all for. And at least for one day, don't forget what Democracy looks like.
 

PARADISE BOUND, PART II

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD ( 06-03-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Jamaica properties are running at 40 percent capacity right now, a figure that is sure to rise as the country continues to dose up. But after four days we we had exhausted the available supply of restaurants so we traveled on to our next destination, Jewel resort at Runaway Bay. By now we knew what to say: "Wa gwaan" (how ya doin'?), and you say, "Mi deh yah" (I'm here, I'm good).

     SCUBA diving lessons were included at the all-inclusive water sports area, but I don't see myself poking around 100-feet below sea level looking for inhospitable vertabrates. I'm not really the adventurous type- if it were up to me to explore the seven seas, the Earth would still be flat and it would be a whole lot easier to get around on a bicycle.

     Instead, we bribed ourselves a couple of masks and snorkels, and swam the reef near the beach. If you see something underwater that looks like a purple porcupine, it's a sea urchin, so avoid it because its spines are slightly venomous. If you step on one and have a bad reaction, an old wives tale has the number one remedy, but I can't tell you what it is here (actually, I just told you).

     We saw a flatfish just sitting there on the bottom, blending into his surroundings. He looked like he was floundering, but that's kind of a compliment to a flatfish. It's a little creepy to see him looking at you from both eyes on one side of his head, but at least his heart was in the right place.

     Back on shore we joined the resort's doubles tournament, and were awarded a bottle of Kingston 62 rum as the winners, when it was determined that we were the only two people foolish enough to show up and play tennis in the 97-degree sun.

     At night the DJ came out and spun some songs to the dolled-up, mask-free, sun-burned crowd. It was the closest whiff I've had of a live bar in quite some time, and it felt good. The music filled up the room and the laser lights flitted deep into every corner. All I could think of was letting a box of cats loose in the place and then running for the hills. I was getting my mojo back. By the time 11:30 rolled around I could barely keep my eyes open. Maybe it was all that sun, or maybe I was just out of practice.

     The next day there was a letter under our door, and I knew the end of our vacation was approaching because it was time for our return flight covid test. The suspense of sweating out the result was killing me, like waiting for the responses to my college application letters. But when they finally handed me the envelope, the outcome was a whole lot better. 

     Our last evening we joined a tour to the "Luminous Lagoon," which is a rare brackish water habitat to millions of dinoflagellates, micro-organisms that light up when disturbed, in a natural light show of bioluminescence. My wife told me to snap some photos while she swam around and bioluminesced with them, but I said no way, I'll go first. Once she's had her organism, you think she'd be interested in mine? All I had to do was figure out how to disturb them. I played some AC/DC real loud, sang two verses of the "Kars for Kids" jingle, made a few cracks about their moms, but it turns out all you have to do is swim around with them, and it's annoying enough.

     All too soon it was time to wind up our vacation and fly back to Earth. I'm going to miss swim-up bars, good coffee roughly the consistency of 10W-30 motor oil, trees that look like cell phone towers that look like trees and pretending to use hand sanitizer. Eight days of fun in the sun was perfect, but it wouldn't have mattered where we went. The important thing is that we went. We're rounding the home stretch of finally leaving our homes. Get vaccinated. Join life.

PARADISE BOUND, PART I

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD ( 05-27-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     It's been a long 14 months of uncertainty, inactivity, canceled plans and isolation. The perfect antidote seemed like a long overdue vacation, some sunshine, a warm beach and a slight hangover with not enough symptoms to be mistaken for anything else. It finally felt like the right time.

     The Caribbean is the birthplace of a million beautiful memories, and I was more than ripe to go and look for a few more. Taking a trip to Europe, stalking around museums, booking day tours and hotel hopping will be back in style soon, but right now, an all-inclusive island paradise close to home was the ideal place to get our feet wet. If you have been dreaming of a vacation but aren't quite in the ready-zone yet, please feel free to live vicariously through mine.

     I had an eight-day stay in Jamaica planned in my head, but when it came time to make the booking I couldn't decide between two gorgeous properties, so I chose four days at each. A trip abroad in the Covid Era comes with its own challenges. The airline asks you to get there three hours before the flight during pandemics, so that they can spend  what seems like the whole extra hour looking over your negative test results while you sweat like a drug mule carrying 20 pounds of cocaine in your pants. Our plane to Montego Bay was three-fourths full, but since I'm an optimist I thought of it as three-fourths empty. There was no drunken stewardess-abuse, no anti-maskers or fist fights, and I wondered if I should start one myself to get it over with.

     Jamaica hasn't procured enough vaccine to reach the hospitality industry yet, and as a result, masks are plentiful but salt and pepper shakers are all but extinct. They pointed thermometers at me frequently, although I'm not sure how you can tell whether anyone has a fever since I felt roughly the same temperature as a grilled cheese sandwich the entire time I was there. They took safety very seriously, or as seriously as possible while chasing me around with a spray bottle of hand sanitizer.

     Our first night at Couples resort in Ocho Rios there was an outdoor buffet and a live show with a fire-eater. The band could take any song and make it sound like a great reggae song. They did a fine version of "Buffalo Soldier," although they must have forgot it already was a reggae song. I don't know what the fire-eater did after the show, but he might have been fun on a date. The kerosene breath is a romance killer, but at least he could warm up your coffee.

     If you happened to lose your luggage there is an "au naturel" beach around back. I decided to go topless on the regular beach, as I forgot my hat. Either way, sit in the sun only after 3:00 PM on your first couple days, or you'll feel like something the fire-eater just dragged in. Sunbathing is something to ease your way into.

     The next day we went out on the glass-bottom boat, and they took us to a great snorkeling spot, a vessel they had sunk on purpose to make an imitation reef for the fish. At least that's what they told us, and I couldn't swim down far enough to see if the wreck had a glass bottom or not. I told the captain to keep his eyes on the road- sinking a boat here and there is fine, but I wouldn't make a habitat of it.
     On our last day we joined a tour to Dunn's River Falls, a unique experience where you assemble at the beach and, forming a human chain, walk up natural rock steps to the top of the 600-foot falls with the water cascading around you. It was a lush setting, and I can't think of anything more awesome than a perfect natural staircase, other than a natural escalator. 

     On the way back we got behind a car that was going about 25 miles an hour, and the New York in me surfaced, and I started getting itchy and sweaty and looking around at the traffic to see if we could pass safely or, as we do in New York, unsafely. What if this unforeseen delay affected my nap? I settled back in my seat and realized that the feeling I just experienced is what vacations are designed to cure. There is no word for "late" in Jamaica. I'll continue my journey next week.
 

ONLY IN THE MOVIES

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD ( 05-20-21)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     I've been in quarantine for a while now, and I've seen just about every movie and television show that was ever made. I've also been living in the real world for, well, actually never, but I've certainly observed others doing it and it looks pretty straightforward. But there's a difference between what happens in the movies and what happens during a normal day, and they almost never intersect.

     For instance, you often see something called "quicksand" in the movies, but you never see it in real life. It's usually in the middle of a forest somewhere, and instead of simply walking around it, somebody goes right in it, and starts sinking down, down, down to nobody knows where because they always gets rescued just in time. It's about the same consistency as Rice Krispies with too much milk and not enough sugar. It always looks exactly the same every time, as if there was only one guy in Hollywood who knew the recipe. Every time I see some sand in the jungle I stand on it while I time it with my watch to see it it's any quicker than usual, but so far, nothing.

     There's no finesse in killing anyone anymore. In a James Bond movie you could take a rattlesnake and stick it under somebody's pillow, and during an inopportune fluff, CHOMP! A slow painful death, unless Rick Melén is there to save the day. "Rick! You did it! You sucked the poison from the wound and spit it out! You're my HERO!" "Wait, you're supposed to spit it out? What the hell, no one ever told me that part!" Nowadays no one even takes the time to strap me onto a moving conveyor belt heading towards a giant ripsaw. It makes me feel as though I wasn't even worth it.

     How many times in films do you see a guy say a whole bunch of rude things to a girl, and she says a whole bunch of nasty things back, and before you know it, they're rolling around on the floor, pulling at each other's hair in wanton abandon. In real life, one of the nasty things she says to me is that it looks like I haven't vacuumed the floor in at least two months so she's not rolling around on it. And one of the rude things I say to her is don't pull my damn hair. She says don't bother calling her, and I tell her I can't because I don't have her number, so she gives it to me and THEN reiterates the not calling part. And before she slams the door in my face I tell her that I wouldn't call her if she was the last woman left on Earth. Unless she wants me to. Also that it's my apartment, but she already slammed the door.

     I was in driving in New Jersey about to go over a bridge and a barrier comes down in front of me. Turns out it's a drawbridge, and I had to make a split-second decision on whether or not to bust through the barrier and jump the drawbridge. I've seen it done a million times in the movies, but I don't recall anyone ever doing it in a Dodge Dart. My mind races ahead, and I realize that not only will I not make it to the other side, but my fender will have a huge dent from the barrier, and I'm going to get a bill for the hole I put in the sailboat that was coming through at the time, and they're going to charge me to replace the barrier I busted AND I'm going to get a ticket for going 60 MPH trying to get my speed up. So I just stopped, and after 20 minutes I wish I had tried it.

     In the movies, those two platonic friends have been through a lot, and one of them realizes he's in love with her. They share a glass of wine and a long look, and his mouth embarks on an excruciatingly long journey toward hers. Finally they embrace and kiss frantically, their arms and hands moving all over each others' backs and hair and their lips smushing against each others' teeth. Thank god they got it in one take, says their dentist. In real life, we share the wine and the long look, and without taking my eyes off hers, I move in for the big moment, and I'm almost there, and she says, "What the hell do you think you're doing? When I asked you, 'is that the bathroom over there?' it sounded to you like, 'we should kiss now, cue the music?'" When she comes back from the bathroom not only has the moment passed but now I have to go too. Only in the movies.