And just like that..

It’s done. The window has been closed, the door locked, the AC shut off, and the name plate on the door removed.

For the first time since 1975 as of this moment, I have no job. I’m not employed, I don’t have a time sheet to fill out, a clock to punch, a list of work related tasks.

When I last “retired” in 2012 from public school teaching, it was anti-climatic. I had planned to leave at the end of November, but Hurricane Sandy shut us down earlier and kept us closed so simply faded away. This time and for the last time, I was able to say proper goodbyes to colleagues, to kids, and yes, to a building.

Change is very emotional and at this moment I don’t think I’ve still really processed it. I don’t know if I’ll really “get it” till sometime in the fall, after the moving is done. Normally, it would hit as school is ramping up and we are not, but this year, that timing will be linked to the actual move so it won’t really register till after the boxes are unpacked and Abbey THE dog finally comes to grips with the fact that where she is is not temporary but permanent.

I’ve been incredibly lucky to have spent close to 5 decades playing at something I’ve really enjoyed and something that I hope I was able to make a difference doing. That set of volumes has been cataloged and is now closed and in storage.

In the words of Mr. Tom Petty… “The future is wide open”…

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Nineteen Forever…

“Sometimes I feel so alive
Sometimes I see so clear
Just like the way we always were
So young and free from fear”

So opens the song of the same name from Joe Jackson…I’ve been struggling with the idea of time and it’s inevitable passing but so much more now that the clock is ticking down to a very few days where things will abruptly change.

I was about 10 years old when I started delivering sample copies of the Journal Home News in the Bronx (earning 1/2 cent per copy delivered) hoping to get enough interest to get my own weekly route (it took about 6 months to get the required minimum response). From that point (somewhere in 1962) I’ve always had some sort of a job, many years it was multiple jobs. Zoom ahead to 2012 and I “retired” from public school teaching and while I was still tutoring and subbing I didn’t have a regular “job” however….then in the fall of 2013, it was back to the classroom having come full circle and I was back at a small Catholic school (my teaching career started in a small Catholic school in 1975 in the Bronx).

Well, as the regular readers know (all 5 or 6 of you 🙂 ) In 5 more work days that will come to a crashing conclusion. At exactly 10:30 AM on June 10th, 2021 both Sue and I will retire at the conclusion of the academic year at ASCS. While I’ve not worked summers for the past 15 or so years, I’ve always tinkered with school things during the summer and occasionally tutored, but this time…..the window is closing…

We will spend the summer equally relaxing (finally taking a week at the Ocean in Rhode Island that we had to cancel last year) and getting things in order with regard to the move. We will spend time with friends and family, we will arrange movers, new furniture delivery, and head out of the only geographical area either of us have ever lived in.

What I’m having the most trouble with is the passage of time….59 of my 69 years having responsibility and purpose, soon to be a rudderless ship. Yes I am very much looking forward to it all, but I am, at the same time, scared shitless….

Every time I look in the mirror I still “see” 19 forever, then of course, I bend down or stand up and feel the stiffness that comes with being almost 69 and not 19.

We are looking very much forward to being able to travel on our own time and not having to be held hostage by school breaks and travel with the huddled masses during very specific times. Hawaii in October or March sounds wonderful. Sue has always wanted to go on a safari and the summer there was never doable since a week (the most we ever have as teachers) in our winter is an impossible trip, now, however, we can go just about any time we want. That’s all great and very, very exciting…(need I mention that Australia, another place we very much want to spend time in, is also on the opposite schedule…so I can avoid even a moderate winter in SC by traveling there at that time)….

Here’s to the closing of one volume and the beginning of the next thread of the next collection…

“You better believe it
You know my dream’s still alive
You can love it or leave it

Cause I’m gonna be
Nineteen forever”

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The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said,

To talk of many things….

This has been a year like no other that I can remember, so many life events have happened that it is almost impossible to realize it’s only been just one year up the line.

Let’s just set the timeline from Easter 2020 to Easter 2021, it just seems to be a reasonable stretch to discuss…We’ll start with bad news…Easter 2020, my friend Silvio succumbs to Covid, something that was unexpected, shocking and still hurts. My daughter, during that time, is undergoing chemo treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma (a good news outcome, she comes through with flying colors and while always being wary, has a good, solid outlook for the future). The world as we know it shuts down for a long time, physical separations are the “new normal”.

The summer moves along without vacations, trips, gatherings except for the occasional outdoor distance seating, it’s the first year I can remember that I’ve not seen or dipped into the ocean in over 60 years. School starts again for me and for Sue, in person without any indication of what will happen long term.

We’ve now moved the timeline past Labor Day….there is talk of a vaccine but no real indication of when or how effective it might be, masks, sanitizing, elbow bumps on the golf course remain the way of the world.

Sue decides that it’s time to retire from a 36+ year run and in the space of two weeks after that, lands in the same place I am due to timing and circumstance. We celebrate holidays from afar and via zoom all the while being reminded of how precious the people around us are and how fleeting the time is with them.

Then, just prior to the calendar turning another year over, the news about a vaccine and a timeline becomes not just talk but reality. Through a series of fortunate circumstances (and dogged persistence) both Sue and I (and a lot of other folks) are able to be fully vaccinated by the middle of February (interestingly around the same time we would, any other year, have been sitting in the sunshine by the ocean). But the roller coaster takes another screaming dip as Sue’s dad begins a health descent…

During that time, or maybe because of that catalyst, we discuss the prospect of putting the house on the market the following year and really making the push to Hilton Head, where we have been looking for over three years as a place to enjoy full time. The realtor, having looked over the house and making suggestions on what we’d need to do to make it “market ready” suggests we put it on the market immediately due to what is going on and the paucity of inventory. We laugh but say, sure why not…

Two weeks later we have a firm offer from a buyer who LOVES the house and we prepare to accelerate our leaving and plan, at the conclusion of the school year, to move in with Sue’s ailing dad to both spend time with him and help care for him while we look for someplace in the Hilton Head area. Yup, you guessed it, the roller coaster is about to take another rapid plunge downhill…..Sue’s dad passes peacefully and on Good Friday, is placed along side Cathy, Sue’s mom, who passed in 2017. So much for the grand plan…which now is scuttled due to timing.

But wait, the coaster is about to rise up again….the buyers agree to delay through the summer so we can still have time to focus on NOT being homeless. We work with a fabulour agent in the Hilton Head area and in less than a month find and go to contract on a new construction home that we’ve not even seen other than in some pictures and videos by our agent, a home that won’t be ready until right at the time we’re due to move (keep in mind, faithful readers, Abbey THE dog is a major thorn in the moving mix).

While I’m sure there will be a few more dips in this ride for the next few months, I am excited about the new volume of our lives (notice I didn’t say new chapter, as this relocation will be a totally new volume). Come late August 2021, while most of our friends and colleagues will be gearing up to begin the first day of the new school year, we will either be on the road or unpacking boxes and learning how to properly use “y’all” and “bless your heart” in sentences. Since both of us retired after the start of the final school year we worked, this will be the first time in 46+ years for me and 36+ years for Sue that we will not be attending some administratively conceived “convocation” designed to “pump you up” for the upcoming school year. Instead, we will be exploring new places, sipping drinks at Skull Creek Boathouse, visiting the weekly farmer’s market in Bluffton, SC (our new home) and planning trips during times we were never able to even think about going before.

525,600 minutes (and a bit more) from Easter 2020 to just past Easter 2021….wow….

And with gratitude to Lewis Carroll I will finish this where I began..

The time has come,’ the Walrus said,
      To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
      Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
      And whether pigs have wings.’

But wait a bit,’ the Oysters cried,
      Before we have our chat;
For some of us are out of breath,
      And all of us are fat!’
No hurry!’ said the Carpenter.
      They thanked him much for that.

A loaf of bread,’ the Walrus said,
      Is what we chiefly need:
Pepper and vinegar besides
      Are very good indeed —
Now if you’re ready, Oysters dear,
      We can begin to feed.’

And lest we forget….when life gives you a choice ALWAYS drink the good wine!

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Fragments

I still look in the mirror and see 19. I can taste the salt of the ocean, I can feel the sunshine on my skin or, today, the rain on my face. I look around and see the same things I’ve seen for almost 20 years. I’m trying to decide what, if anything, to bring along for the next journey. I can barely sit still for a few minutes and find it even more difficult to put two or three cogent thoughts together to write or even speak.

I am excited for the next chapters, yet will be incredibly sad for the ending of what is. The future is very bright, the thrill of “new” very strong.

There will be much more to add as things develop but for now, I’ll simply keep storing the fragments of thoughts away until I can form full sentences.

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Pater Familias

When you are 16, you are immortal. In the summer of my 16-19th years on the planet, I would hardly sleep, we, as a group, would indulge in cheap tequila (Jose Gavilan was the beverage of choice, I believe it was under $7 for a quart). We would sit on the boardwalk in Far Rockaway until the sun came up and debate the question “Why the Universe?”

Many hot nights were spent body surfing backwards at 2 am so we could see the stars while the waves carried us in, usually after the Gavilan was done, after we had taken a trip to Friendly’s for a Fribble and Fries and on the way back, indulged in some herbal supplements provided by a friend who was given the nickname “The Candy Man” [thanks to Sammy Davis Jr.] We were totally oblivious to the currents, the dangers and the very likely facts that sharks were all around us. Immortality was the feeling of the day. Emerging from the water, we would keep sipping something and sing loudly to Stairway to Heaven and then engage in Doo Wop “competitions” Everything was ahead of us.

Gradually we moved in different directions and while we have not lost touch, we rarely see each other mostly due to geography and the time constraints careers and lives placed in our way. Immortality gradually gave way to various maladies, thoughts changed, and I doubt any one of us still standing would dare to get in the ocean under any circumstances today at 2 Am backward or forward as mortality is much more present with each passing year.

Through it all we have always been “kids”. While we have had our own families we were always middle management, so to speak. Today, for me, that all changed. My father-in-law David Sloan transitioned to another plane. The sadness of losing a gentleman who had the most interesting life, who loved music, sports, politics (though way, way to the right of Genghis Khan) reading, singing, and life is tough enough, however what that also means is now I become the title character from this post.

I am the oldest living male in my biological and married families (while I still have my Aunt Irene a bit ahead of me, so technically not the “oldest”). The weight of that interwoven with the sadness of the loss is overwhelming.

I still see “19” when I look in the mirror, yet here I am alone at the wrong end of the cradle-grave timeline in our family.

I will miss talking Giants football and playing Bruce Springsteen for him, I will miss his snarky comments about CNN, I will miss his laugh and his hug, I will do the best I can to be worthy of the title.

Rest well amigo, you will never be far from our thoughts and always in our hearts.

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A little short of a month ago

I wrote a post about getting to the end of a dream and how it seemed a bit distant. Some of that has changed, the reality is that a lot of what I was worried about seems, at least as of this writing, to have been nothing to worry about. In the coming days I will write what I hope to be a very long post filled with all kinds of things, it will be very emotional on many levels, for now, things are looking up, but given my tendency to worry I’m going so simply leave it at that, and that there is more to come.

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It’s been almost a year

March 13, 2020…the day the world stood still…both Sue and I left our respective schools that day and had no clue the extent of what was about to happen. I don’t think I need to revisit any of it for anyone reading this you all know what went on, the changes, the ups and downs, the mishandling on a federal level, the lack of unity throughout the nation and the subsequent rises and falls of illnesses, emotions and loss.

Well, it’s almost a year up the line and Sue and I have been fully vaccinated for almost a month now, we are feeling a bit more hopeful, the birds are chirping, the chipmunks out and about (much to the dismay of Abbey THE dog), it’s lighter longer, the mounds of snow are pretty much melted (some of the larger mounds have a way to go…but it’s still pretty promising). Golf is moving from something to watch back to something to play. I’m on a 45 day treadmill running streak but even that will move outside soon enough. Sue and I have been incredibly fortunate this past year [though a lot of that is due to being very conscious about being careful] and we are feeling hopeful that a corner has been turned.

The sadness of loss will not soon go away….April 2020 will always be remembered for a day where I came down from the treadmill to the terrible news that Silvio had passed from Covid, others have losses just as profound. Time and tide and Father Time remaining undefeated all true yet each day with the sunshine and rebirth of the season brings a smile and a continued ray of hope.

“I’m alive, I can feel the blood shiver in my bones”….(yup, Bruce is playing as I type)

Take 5 minutes and sing something out loud today!

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Where do you go when you get to the end of your dream?

I’ve always looked forward to my “golden years”. I have been working in one form or another since I was about 10 years old. I asked for a snow shovel for Christmas 1962, why? because there was money to be made shoveling the sidewalks of the private houses that were wedged between the apartment buildings in the Bronx neighborhood I grew up in. That spring I took to delivering sample copies of the Journal Home News (a weekly local paper) for 1/2 cent per copy. You committed to dropping at least 1000 copies in the various apartment buildings and private houses (very few had elevators and most were 5 floor walkups) with the goal of having them subscribe. The carrot (other than the $5 made for doing this…(btw, the average 5 floor building, had 4 units per floor so each building only amounted to 20 copies…think about that for a minute will you…) was that if you got enough interest from your samples, you were rewarded with a weekly route (I neglected to mention that in addition to picking up the 1000 copies, you had to put an personal insert in each one so they would know it was your sample that created the subscription if it came through). Well, after a few weeks I reached the required 25 subscriptions and was given my own route weekly, though I didn’t abandon the sample delivery either.

Turning 16 brought my ability to get my legal “working papers” and I was hired at Honig’s Parkway a local “department store”. They sold housewares (my department), electronics, toys, sporting goods, furniture etc. My parents shopped there, as did most in the neighborhood, frequently putting Christmas gifts on “layaway” that my dad would, I later learned, schlep down to pick up late on Christmas Eve well after I was asleep [while I worked there we were open on that day till well after midnight, well later than a 16 year old was legally supposed to work, but no one cared, least of all me as tips were also plentiful when helping folks pick up the layaway items…did I mention that my salary was $1.60 per hour? so the traditional .50 or $1 tip was the equivalent of somewhere between 33% and 63% not too shabby]

A job at Sears Roebuck followed when I turned 18 for the huge salary leap to $1.90 per hour, followed by a three year stint at the announcing voice at S.Klein in Yonkers “Ladies and Gentlemen a repeat of a sellout, right now and for the next 20 minutes, all ladies dresses will be 30% off”, “Mr. Johnson call 225, Mr Johnson call 225” “Ladies and Gentlemen, S.Klein will be closing in 10 minutes, please bring your purchases to the nearest register so that you don’t get closed out” Just an example of my 5 hours a day while I was an undergrad.

A stint at the NY Athletic Club boathouse on Traver’s Island as the attendant, filled up all my Saturday and Sunday mornings (I was able to do both jobs since my announcing was 4-9 pm). Both jobs allowed me to do my coursework during the time I was working a double benefit.

I could go on with listing things but it’s too long and totally uninteresting a catalog, so I’ll zoom to the “professional” life. Graduating in 1974, I turned down an offer from the National Security Agency which, with the blessings of hindsight would have been very lucrative over the years, instead I went into education. Partly due to my wanting a “Peter Pan” life where I never had to grow up (summers off..and all that…[spoiler alert: never had a single summer off till I was in my late 50’s], partly due to my admiration for Uncle Dominic P. Starace, and partly because it was just fun. Lots of years of work, to quote Southside Johnny “Money got made, baby, money got spent”…

All the while I was looking toward the future a bit, looking didn’t mean good planning, maybe just dreaming…I was looking toward when my kids where grown and happily ensconced in their own lives and families and the ability stop working 5 days a week on the clock and most of all move to a warmer climate (if you’ve read any before you know how I hate winter).

So how does this account for the title…well here we are….We are in the process of putting our home up for sale with the intent of moving to the last paragraph of my dream…but wait….

Education has given me a wonderful life, but it has not put us in a position of being comfortable and independent. Granted, we have often chosen to spend where, maybe, we should have saved, but it was not to excess. Now, we are in a position where we have an older home, and as we get it ready, we are NOT in a position to do all that we should to make it as visually appealing as possible, couple that with the fact that things we have done, like have the driveway fixed a year ago have been totally undone by the fact that the plowing this year has ripped it totally up, along with trying to deal with a very “energetic” dog and having to leave during a showing, and all in all the dream seems to be further distant than it was 35 years ago…

So I ask again…where do you go when you get to the end of your dream?

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Well the highway is alive tonight…

About a week ago I was in an incredibly moribund state of mind not in the strict sense of the primary definition but more secondary. My lovely wife was concerned I might be clinically depressed. It was snowing (again), we were not in the sunshine as we usually are at this time of year due to Covid, it seemed like there was no end to the “dreary”.

A funny thing happened on the highway to hell, the sun came out, we are on a mini break (though I am still looking at snow on the roof instead of the waves in the ocean), and yesterday I was lucky enough to not only get my second dose of the Pfizer vaccine, but following that have had absolutely none of the side effects. No headache, no nausea, no loss of energy, no fever, zip, nada, nuttin…ok, my arm was a bit sore to the touch at the site of the injection but even that was not long lasting.

That seemed to have a reverse effect on my mood. I have been using the treadmill daily, I promised myself three weeks ago that I’d do at least 10 minutes per day. I’ve not done less than 30 yet, and today it was over 50 minutes and in excess of 3.5 miles. I get lost in the music I let it power me on and it also gives me time to think about how grateful I am for everything I have. My wife, my kids, a job I still love doing (well it’s really not a “job” it’s kinda like going to play every day). Most of all my health. Surgically repaired joints, and the blessing of weight loss surgery thanks to the incredible support from the medical teams involved. Now add to that, the fact that Sue and I have avoided the plague to this point and we are now just two short weeks away from being in the 95% protected group. That is not to say we will abandon all precautions, far from it, as we are still in the very small lucky minority, but it does take some of the weight of the worry off for our well being.

We are still apart from those we love, physical contact with them is still a long way off, but there is light shining where there was none for quite a while.

Tonight, in the still of the night, I plan to breathe deeply and take in all that I have been so fortunate to have been given. I’ll be drinking in the forgiveness this life provides….

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By and By…

Martin Fitzpatrick Sr., Carlo Babuder, Fanny Babuder, Martin Fitzpatrick Jr, Lena Fitzpatrick., David Lozupone, Dora Lozupone Dominick P. Starace, Iriving “Sonny” Abrams. Adelaide Abrams, Cathy Sloan.

This is the “roll call” of the names of the men and women in my life, all of whom are now in another plane. My two grandfathers, grandmother (I never knew my dad’s mom) my dad and mom, my first father-in-law and mother-in-law, and my two uncles, one of my aunts and my current mother-in-law. There are but two still remaining, David Sloan Sr., my father-in-law since 2002, and a friend prior to that and my aunt Irene Starace.

What spurred this series of thoughts you ask? Well, as everyone is aware, the current Covid debacle brings with it daily accounts of people passing, along with that, each day seems to bring another series of announcements of the passing of various personalities that I grew up watching, listening to, reading, reading about in one form or another who didn’t pass from Covid, but simply because their time had come to an end. [I’m going to resist the temptation to start quoting a Dawes song here]. That started me going down the “family tree” rabbit hole and coming to the solid realization that when Dave Sr. does transition, (no he is not in any immediate jeopardy) I would be left as the “Last Man Standing” ok I can’t resist these opening lyrics that bring all those men to mind in multiple ways, courtesy of Bruce…

“Faded pictures in an old scrapbook
Faded pictures that somebody took
When you were hard and young and proud
Backed against the wall, running raw and loud”

It’s a scary thought of being one step removed from becoming the Pater Familias, not only in terms of what it means to my own mortality, but also what it means from both a real and implied responsibility standpoint. Think about it, how lucky are most of us to have had a “back up resource” for most of our lives, someone, either by blood or by relationship to look to for advice (and sometimes to argue with about lots of things).

The realization that one day in the (hopefully not too near) future, the “last man standing” will only have his reflection to look at for such guidance. The “senior member” of the team in more ways than one.

I have been incredibly fortunate to have done something I’ve loved as a career (and am still at it), to have been blessed with two children who, themselves, now have wonderful, rambunctious, curious, healthy, children of their own, yet I’ve always been “middle management”…the idea of becoming the CEO is both interesting and scary.

I’ll leave this set of thoughts with one more set of lyrics…courtesy of Dan Fogelberg:

And the sons become the fathers and their daughters will be wives
As the torch is passed from hand to hand
And we struggle through our lives
Though the generations wander, the lineage survives
And all of us, from dust to dust, we all become forefathers by and by”

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