From a dear friend...

When I face what has left my life,
I bow.
I walk outside into the cold,
rain nesting in my hair.
All the houses near me
have their lights on.
Somewhere,
there is a deep listening.

I stand in the dark for a long time
under the walnut tree,

unable to tell anyone,
not even the night,
what I know.

I feel the darkness
rush towards me,

and I open my arms.

(Lynn Martin)

I went West, but I was not a young man.

This past weekend was the first time in my life I ever saw the Pacific Ocean. I gazed upon an incredible city. An amazing bridge. I was in San Francisco.

I left the frozen tundra that was New Jersey, and stepped into a world of sun and warm temperatures, gorgeous mountains, trees and green grass and plants.

And what did I see as I walked there.

The young and the beautiful.

I went to the coast in hopes of a job.

When I got to their offices, I was dressed better and sharper than any of them. And I was also 10-20 or more years older than all of them.

Ahh, California.

Gorgeous weather. Beautiful people.

And no place for an old man like me.

I have grown up in the gritty and cold Northeast. A veteran of snow and ice, and long, cold, dark Winter days.

The warm sun and gorgeous scenery was like a reprieve from yet another hellish Winter in New Jersey. It felt good to feel the rays, and to watch the wildlife there, as if Summer never ends.

I went to see if my long years of experience, ability and knowledge would be something that this small young company wanted. They seemed to.

But when they saw my crisp suit and tie, my gray beard and head empty of hair, my face filled with the lines of a hard life....

I knew that I wouldn't end up with the job.

They walked around in socks and t-shirts, and fiddled with their iPhones and Blackberrys. Indulging in the technology. Children of machines, they noticed nothing around them. Just the job. The technology.

Then I stepped outside to wait for my cab.

The sun was beginning to set.

And then, I saw, for the first time in my life, a Rufous Hummingbird looking for nectar in a flowering tree.

Nobody else was there to see it.

But I did. And I watched it in awe as I do all the birds..wishing I had my camera with me.

And at that moment, I knew what I was, and what I am meant to be.

Hand me my camera, friend.

I have wonders to capture, and miracles to behold.

I didn't get the job.

What else is new, right?

Who knows why, but I suspect it was because of my age (I was the oldest one in the building) and the fact that I was the only one there in a suit.

But this has just made me realize.

I am done with this bullshit. I am done with IT. With corporate America.

I don't give a shit about computers. I don't give a shit about the bottom line.

I am a photographer. A writer. A teacher.

And so shall my life be focused, from now on. No matter what.

The Future...

Is in my hands.

On Sunday, I fly to California for a second round of job interviews.

If I nail this one, I get a great job with a good company.

Only thing is, I have to relocate. I have to move 900 miles South of here.

And in so doing, I have to leave behind all that I love.

Friends, Family. The refuge. The other places I go with my cameras.

It's freedom. Independence. The ability to live on my own again, self sufficient.

As with everything in my life..

The price.

Is to be paid in blood and tears.

Someday. It is my hope, that I can stop giving all I have to get what I need.

Standing.

All through my life.

There was never a coach, an opposing player. A fellow student. A boss. A coworker that could bring me to my knees.

I defied them all. No matter the challenge. No matter the betrayal.

Because I did not love them. They were just a part of my life I had to deal with.

The ones who sent me to my knees?

Were those I loved.

And I will never be on my knees again.

I stand.

And that is all there is to it.

Tired of being fucked over.

I waffle sometimes into the black of the abyss. I bend and yield under the strain.

I look back at a series of blows and losses that would bring the strongest person to their knees.

And I have been there.

And the view from down there SUCKS.

I've been fucked over in almost every aspect of life. But nothing approaching what my ex-wife did to me.

And I am fucking sick of it.

In a week, I fly to California for a job interview. And I WILL fucking nail it.

And I will stand up once again and take my fucking life back.

Because I am SO fucking tired of eating the dirt.

I may have to leave so much that I love dearly behind.

But I cannot stay here with the chains of indentured servitude and poverty around my neck, taking from me the very life force I have.

I will get the fuck out of here. No matter the price.

Looking back.

It was a hot and sweltering night. July 23, 1998.

My dad and I had just finished the 3rd trip with the boxes and furniture. We were exhausted. We placed the rest in the garage.

We sat outside on the front steps. It was now close to 2AM. We felt good. We both smiled. Thanks to my good fortune in my career, and a little help from him, my new home was finished being built. I watched it every day for the months it took. Documented the whole process in photos from foundation to finished.

It was a gorgeous place. Not a monster of a home, but large enough. With oak wood flooring, ceramic tile. Beautiful carpets. Spacious rooms. A finished basement with an office and even a bathroom.

An acre of property. Plenty of room to put in wonderful gardens, trees and a pond. In a cul-de-sac. Quiet. Private. No through traffic.

We sat on the porch, and listened as the sprinkler system kicked in, and gentle sound of the water made it complete. I was starting a new chapter. My wife and my 2 young kids, would have this wonderful place to call home.

Tomorrow,

I will leave the loft bedroom of my father's house, and head to Trenton. To Federal bankruptcy court.

The house? Gone.

The marriage? Gone.

The career. Gone.

The money. Gone.

The boxes now sit in my father's living room and dining room. And my furniture and other belongings are stored in a frozen garage at the lake property.

In just under 5 years time.

I lost all I had.

Including the dreams.

So, tomorrow I get to go before the creditors and the judge.

There will be no doubt that this will be approved.

After all, I have nothing left to give.

Why AM I still here?

A question I have asked a few times. Mostly shaking my head in amazement.

My father. The strongest, toughest man I know.

Looked me in the eyes a few months ago and said, tearing up.....

"Son, I do not know how you have survived. I cannot imagine. After all you have been through. I would not have made it. I would have drank myself to death, and ended up in a ditch".

Yeah, dad. It's kind of like that.

I don't know how or why.

But I am still here.

We are told by well meaning friends that our future and our success and happiness is in our hands. That we control our destiny. If we work hard enough. If we keep a positive attitude. After all.

They did it. They made it. So can you!!

The man who told me these things.

Survived poverty growing up in Brooklyn NY, working like hell to get out.
Survived the Korean War.
Survived hardship and difficulties throughout his life.
Survived 30 years of dealing with my mother's alcoholism.
Survived open heart surgery, that saved his life.

And he tells me that what I have faced would have killed him.

I take little solace in that revelation.

I have to ask myself. Why am I still here?

Why didn't I quit and just toss it all in?

I don't know the answer.

Maybe I just fucking hate to lose.

Intensly personal.

Yeah, sometimes I just have to air it out. And you can read and leave, or comment or do what you will. But this just just me. Being me.

I have live through it all. There is almost nothing I haven't experienced.

And it's all the very worst of life. It's all about loss, pain, abuse and sadness.

For so many years.

Some things I cannot even talk about here, so that I do not embarrass my darling daughter. Who has suffered as I have. In some ways, far worse than anything I have endured. God, I love her so.

The only thing I have not lost in this life is my children. Something I cannot endure even the thought of.

But I have lost everything else.

I am not saying this because I want your sympathy.

I am saying it because you NEED to know this shit if you want half a fucking chance to know who I am.

I have taken it all.

There is nothing on this Earth that I have not felt the pain of.

Cheating. Divorce. Physical, mental and emotional abuse. Loss of home and fortune. Loss of my job and career. Of my dignity.

And so much of it was outside of my control. Powerless. Helpless.

The courts, the police, the prosecutors. They came for me. They took all I had.

The hardest part of this life has been watching my dreams die. The dreams of a lifelong marriage, a comfortable retirement. A future that was bright and promising.

Instead, I sit here tonight writing this from the loft bedroom of my father's home. Unemployed, and heading to Federal bankruptcy court next week to declare to the world that I do indeed have nothing left.

And I simply do not know how to quit.

How easy it would be.

And so many would expect it.

But I just cannot.

I've taken it all. More than I can ever describe. For years, and years. And years.

I wake up every day and fight it.

I don't have anything left of the life I planned. Of the dreams I once had.

But every time I put that camera to my eye.

My heart races. And I smile.

Because for those moments, I am alive. And it is good to be.

And as long as there exists the promise that there will be times like that, I will persist.

Even as the bill collectors beckon. As the world closes in on me. As the obligations to pay a lifetime of support to my ex wife crush me.

I will never quit.

It's like this.

I've often wondered.

Many women have dated me. A few have been in long term relationships with me.

None worked out.

I am now 52.

Here's how it goes.

You want a great man?

You want someone who will love you forever?

Who will hold you close?

Who gives the best hugs?

Who can cook like a master chef?

Intelligent. Funny. And yes, even still able to perform very well in the bedroom.

This is what it takes.

Just hold the fuck on.

Wrap your arms around me and stay.

You can have all that I offer. You can have the best man you ever knew.

But you have to commit. You have to go for broke.

If you hold on tight.

I will never let you go.

You may not have riches, or fancy vacations. You may not be driving a Lexus.

But you will be loved like you have never known.

If I had a dollar...

For every tear I have shed.

I would be a billionaire.

Glory Days

Just like the old Bruce Springsteen song.

And yeah, this is about baseball. About a young man, many years ago. When he was on top of the world.

I'm not going to wax nostalgic except to take it as a lesson to myself. That I was, and am, capable of accomplishing great things in my life.

If I believe in myself.

Back in the hot summer of 1975, I was selected as one of the starting pitchers for the league's All-Star team.

However, one of the coaches thought I was too risky. That although I had the best fastball in the league (over 95mph on some pitches), that I had at times had problems with control. Not often, but every once in a while I couldn't find the plate for an inning, and I would walk a few batters.

Instead, they had a tried and true pitcher from the head coaches original league team. He was cast with being the head coach for this all-star team, and he brought his best pitcher with him to the team. And of course, he was going to start him for the opening game.

I was put at First Base. I was also an outstanding hitter and fielder, so they wanted me in the game. Just not on the mound.

Well, we won that first game of the tournament. He pitched a good game, giving up only 5 hits and 2 runs. I got 3 hits out of 4 official at bats, drove in 3 runs.

That game was on a Sunday. The next game was the following Saturday. And that was a problem. They could not pitch the same person again, because league rules required a full week before they could do so.

So, my coach, who was the assistant coach for the all-star team, convinced the head coach to start me for the next game. There were one or two other pitchers available, but my coach lobbied for me, and won.

I was to take the mound for the next game.

I asked for and got my catcher. We had 2. One was from my team, who also made the all-stars. Fantastic arm, and an incredible glove. Bobby Glassheim. I will never forget him.

Mostly because he was such an incredible partner with me on the mound. He kept me honest. He knew my strengths. He knew the hitters. He was freaking amazing. We were a fantastic team.

After I blew a blazing fastball past a hitter and cleaned up with 3 straight strikeouts, he'd look at me, give me that big fucking grin, and defiantly toss the ball out to the mound for the unfortunate opposing team that had to take the field.

So, I got on that mound that day, ready. It was so fucking hot, but I loved it. Kept me loose and my arm warm. I intentionally eased way off on the fastballs during all my warmups before the game. The teams we were playing were not ones we played during the year, so they had never batted against me. I wanted that first screaming fastball to be delivered as a complete surprise.

And it was. LOL

I heard someone on the sidelines say "Holy shit".

They said that a lot that day.

I went 9 full innings. 12 strikeouts. 1 hit.

I also drove in a couple more runs at the plate.

The doubting head coach was now a believer. He dumped an entire bucket of ice water over my head at the end of the game. You have NO idea how cold that feels when you have been out on the field in 95 degree weather. LOL

One of the funniest things (for me, not for him) was to watch old Bobby when he took one of my fastballs in the center of his mitt. He learned early on to put padding inside, but it didn't always help. On more than one occasion, when I really let one rip, I would hear the crack as it hit his glove, he would stand up, take off his glove and just shake out his hand, in pain. I am sure he never forgot those. LOL

He usually needed to soak his glove hand in cold water after catching me for a game.

So, we had won the first two rounds.

The next game was on the following Sunday. Which meant...a full week would have passed. They decided to put me back on the mound for the 3rd and final game. If we won this, we won the tournament.

I was nervous now. Had come off a fantastic game the week before, but now the pressure was really on.

We (Bobby and I) decided to take a different psych approach to the warmups. We would show them some of the heat. To intimidate. It worked.

When you are an experienced pitcher, you can see fear in a batter's eyes, and their stance. You can tell when they are off balance. And many of them (the opposing team) were. That's when you show them something they aren't expecting, to really confound them. If they are expecting fastball inside, you start them off with a slow curve low and outside. Maybe another one right after that, if they are really off balance. By that time, they have NO idea what's coming next. So, after showing them two outside curves, I'd throw a monster fastball high and tight, and down they'd go. Strike 3.

It's all about being in control.

I pitched a great game. Went the distance. We won the tournament. I led in hitting, RBI's, home runs, and pitched arguably the best 2 games of my life, allowing only 3 hits in 18 innings, and something like 25 strikeouts across the 2 games.

I was on top of the world. All of my skills, the years of practice, the confidence in myself.

In the big scheme of things, pitching 2 games in a long forgotten baseball tournament at 17 years old doesn't mean much.

But it does to me.

It was me. At my very best.

It's time I put that glove and cap back on. And step onto the mound again.

Look out world. Nobody ever could hit my fastball.

Standing at the crossroads.

Today, almost out of nowhere, a new job opportunity beckons for me. I nailed the phone interview. I have been invited to fly across the country to meet with the hiring manager and others.

It all looks very good, and very promising.

And I need it. Badly.

A great job. A good company. Something challenging, fun, right up my alley.

And in order to pursue it, means I have to leave my home state behind.

I have to leave my friends. The refuge I have grown to love.

And move 900 miles south of here.

If I get this job, it means a new life for me. Independence, a chance at a future.

And in the process, I have to say goodbye to close friends and the only home I have ever known.

I want someone to answer me this...

Why must I lose on such an enormous scale, in order to have what I need in order to survive?

When you have an answer for that, let me know.

This is bittersweet, as it always seems to be.

I have a great chance for a new job, and a future. A chance to pull up and out of this hell I now live in.

And for that chance, the cost is steep. Painful. And I have shed enough blood already.

But it is what it is.

Guess I have no other choice.

Full speed ahead, and damn the torpedoes.

Not good enough.

The very story of my life.

For my ex wife. I wasn't enough for her. She needed other men.

For the other women I have known. All moved on to someone better than I.

I am not good enough.

Not good enough to love.

Not good enough to stay with.

Not worth the investment, or the chance.

And I got the message.

For all of you, that have moved on. That have found your "true" love.

For those of you for whom standing in life was more important than character, or who the man really is.

Fuck you all.

For you, combined, have so jaded me. So hurt me. So discarded me.

And I deserve better than that.

For a woman who was willing to commit and give her all, I would have been the most amazing, loving partner.

But you all deemed that there are better men out there.

Thanks for that.

I got the message.

I will do the rest of this journey alone. Enjoy your fun, your dinners out, your nice homes, your comfort, your boyfriends and your new husbands.

What you have lost, you can't imagine. But then again, what I have come to realize, is that you deserve what you have.

And I deserve to live the rest of this life alone and destitute. It's just my place in this world.

Guess I better just suck it down.

Ramblings and Commentary.

Things I hate the very most..

Someone being condescending toward me or looking down upon me. That ranks up at the very top of what makes me recoil. Fastest way to lose my friendship. Permanently.

Being abused. Spent too many years in hell to ever tolerate that again in any form. Mental, emotional, and especially physical.

Politics and Politicians - They make no positive difference in our lives. They exist to serve themselves. They are (with extremely rare exception) all liars and pretenders, fakes and frauds. The Founding Fathers of this country would not recognize this country today, and they would hang their heads in disgust if they could see it.

Television, Talk Radio, and the mass media. It's all noise. It's all worthless, stress inducing noise. I tuned it all out years ago. Don't miss it, at all. Does anyone really think it makes a positive difference in their life? Wouldn't you rather be taking a walk in the woods, or exploring a tidal salt marsh, or spending time with loved ones and friends?

Things that I love...

Being at the cabin and the lake. There is nowhere else that I can feel at peace and at home. That is, when the Jet Skis and Power Boats are not roaring across the lake all day.

A fine cooked meal, prepared by me. I love to cook, and I love to share my meal with a good friend. There is nothing nicer than good food, and good conversation with friends.

My photography, and being out in nature. This was and is the godsend that saved my life. Were it not for this, I would not have survived the last 3 years.

My mother. God how I miss her so.

My dad. Happy to still have him with me after his open heart surgery.

My friends. Although I rarely get to see many of you, and so many of you I have never even met in person...you are my lifeline. And you bring me incredible joy. I hope that I do the same for you.

The National Rifle Association. They have their faults, but no other organization has protected our rights to protect ourselves, and to uphold the constitution, better or more tenaciously than they have. Once we allow our government to disarm us, we are like cattle waiting for the inevitable slaughter. Either by criminals, or by our own government, someday. Our Founders knew this. Shame that so many are so woefully ignorant of it. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. I'd much rather have the means to defend myself and my loved ones, and never need it, than to face a violent criminal or a tyrannical government without it.

My dogs. Fox and Dana. The most charming and wonderful friends. I love them so dearly. Having raised them since little pups, they are with me now over 9 years.

Things I have learned in my long and difficult life:

The people you trust the most can betray you.

The people you think you can trust need to earn it.

When you think you've endured the very worst, something worse can and often does happen.

When you are on your knees, the world looks much different.

That to never quit may mean you still have to surrender.

That you should never give up your dreams. For without them, life is existence, and not the journey you should be taking.

That you can lose it all, and still live.

That true friends will show you compassion and understanding. Not try to tell you that in order to be happy and successful you need to live as they do.

Things I hope for:

Love and affection.

A home with a roof over my head, that I can call my own.

A career that allows me to do what I love.

A life where the amount of pain and loss are less than the amount of joy and peace.

Time.

My Promise to myself:

I have been told. That for me to pursue what I love, my photography...is a pipe dream. That nobody gets to do what they love. They compromise. They take a good job, doing what they can to pay the bills. They then pursue their "hobby" and try to enjoy what they can, on the side.

Here is my promise.

For over 40 years, I have been told by countless people that I have tremendous potential and ability.

So here's the deal.

I AM going to make it doing what I love. And I am that good at it.

I intend to do something I love for the days I have left here.

No matter how many more of them their are.