Thursday, January 25, 2024

Darryl and Doc - Together Forever

 


Recently, Darryl Strawberry and Dwight Gooden met with the media to discuss the news that they have achieved immortality in Mets History. They have always been joined since 1984 and will both have their numbers retired and flown on the roof of Citifield this year.

 They join other Mets immortals: Stengel, Hodges, Seaver, Piazza, Koosman, Hernandez and Mays, along with MLB immortal Robinson.

 As a Mets fan since 1962, it has been, for me, more down years than up. But following the 1973 World Series, it truly was a painful period, culminating with the Wednesday Night Massacre where M. Donald Grant traded The Franchise, Tom Seaver, to the Cincinnati Reds for Doug Flynn, Steve Henderson, Dan Norman, and Pat Zachary. Without Tom Terrific, there were no terrific times at Shea for the rest of the decade.

 But then, in January 1980, the Payson family sold the team to a group headed by Nelson Doubleday and Fred Wilpon. Because the Mets were such failures, especially in 1979, they were positioned first to draft soon after they closed on that deal. They used that overall number one pick to choose eighteen-year-old Darryl Strawberry. Suddenly a long-suffering fan, like me, had reason to hope for a brighter future.

 Then, in 1982, the Mets were again in position to draft number one overall. They used that pick to draft a seventeen-year-old high school phenom from Tampa, Dwight Gooden.

 By May 6, 1983, twenty-one-year -old Strawberry was brought up to The Show and never went back to the Minors again. That year, he hit .257, had twenty-six home runs, drove in seventy-four runs batted in, and won the 1983 Rookie of the Year, while only playing in one hundred-twenty-two games.

 In 1984, eighteen-year-old Dwight Gooden was unexpectedly brought up at the start of the season. He only averaged 11.4 strikeouts per nine innings, struck out 276, won seventeen games and had an ERA of 2.60. Oh, and he was an All Star, along with Strawberry, and won the 1984 Rookie of the Year award.

 Together, these two players, along with Keith Hernandez and later, Gary Carter, comprised the Mets’ “Core Four” for the balance of the 1980s. They brought excitement back to Shea Stadium for the balance of the decade, leading the Mets to winning seasons from 1984 to 1990 and winning two NL East championships, the pennant in 1986 and the most exciting World Series I ever saw that same year.

 Darryl Strawberry left the Mets after the 1990 Season and Dwight Gooden left after 1994. They each had some sparks of brilliance after they left. Strawberry won two more World Series in 1996 and 1999, and Gooden finally pitched a no-hitter in 1996 and won another World Series in 2000.

 We all know what happened to both men in 1987 and the years after with substance abuse. After battling those demons for much of the next few decades, each man has used that experience to help others overcome those devils.

 Finally, The Straw Man and Dr K will be honored with the highest tribute any team can bestow on its players. They were asked about it during an interview and each claimed they were humbled to be so recognized.

 As for me, as a long-suffering and loyal Mets fan, “Orange and Blue Since ‘62”, I can tell you it is finally about time. I am happy to see that the current Mets’ ownership recognizes the team’s history and is making good on what should have been done since Seaver’s number was retired so long ago.

 Congrats Darryl and Doc. You deserve it! Lets Go Mets!!

 

 

 


Wednesday, December 6, 2023

A Toast To A Married Couple

 



There is always a reason for events to occur. We may not be privy to the Master Plan, but we try to manage these events as they are presented. This day, we celebrate one of these events.

 Fifty-three years ago, two people met on a school yard in Queens County, New York. At the time, the event was insignificant to the participants hecause neither one thought anything of an ice cream cone, other than perhaps as it related to a laundry or dry-cleaning bill. Little did either one know at the time that the ice cream cone would lead to a “Hello", which led to a walk, perhaps from the school to her house, to a Sunday afternoon poker game with her father, to a kiss under a lamppost, to six children, fourteen grandchildren. And countless great-grandchildren. Little did they know. Events.


As they moved through the remaining years of the 1940's, they knew that their destinies were
intended to be shared, as best as possible under the Master Plan. They tried hard to manage the events leading to a day, a mere fifty years ago today, almost a lifetime to some, more than a lifetime to others. But, of course, the Master Plan was waiting for them to seize upon the events of that day, as they stood at the altar of Saint Anthony of Padua Roman Catholic Church, in Ozone Park at about four o'clock that Sunday afternoon. Events.

 Soon they were married, but before they were married one year, they were forced to separate, he to Georgia, she to Ozone Park, because of a little appendage on the map of the world called Korea. But of course, she was not alone. She carried within her a piece of him that he had given her before he left. And five months later, when she flew to him, it was obvious what she carried. Events.

 And by Friday night, May 11, they were really no longer two. Instead, they had become one. Keep in mind, that in reality, they became one many more times after that first time. All because of an ice cream cone. Events.

 Their lives together, even when they were apart, were held together by an event that took place fifty years ago. Some of the people who were there then, or who were there to witness a part of their lives together along the way, both friends and family, are not here now, either by circumstance or by death. But those people are here in spirit because these two people touched the lives of Many. Events.

 Those people who have affected and have been affected by these celebrants include, but certainly are not limited to Albert, Fortunata, Annie and Mike, Katie, Billy and George, Anna. Joe, Rita, Tom, Rose, Eddie and Katty. Loretta, Don and Florence. Marian and Josephine. Even Father Kenny. Others include Joy. Frank, Matty and Betty. Lois and Carmine. Eileen and Joe. Sal and Louise. Sophie and Andrew. Richard. Rita, Gerry and Venard. Events.

 But the people who are in this room this day are the people they wanted to have be with them as they renewed their vows they took so long ago. These witnesses have come because of the love they have shared with these celebrants and the love they continue to share as time moves forward to another series of destinies. Events.



 
So please raise your glasses, whether they contain wine, beer, soda or water. To Nancy and Frank, I wish you Salute, Sto’lat, Schlanka, Cent’anni. To many more years of love and happiness as you share your remaining time together here, knowing that those who you love and those who love you wish for you this EVENTFUL day, the promise of eternal love to be shared by each of you.

 Forever and Always.


Prologue from my book Life Is But A Dream.

Originally Dated: October 2, 1999, Selden, New York Nancy and Frank’s Golden Anniversary

 Restated: July 24, 2020, Holbrook, New York at my book publication, Life Is But A Dream

 December 6, 2023 the seventy-seventh anniversary of their meeting for the first time in John Adams High School, Ozine Park, NY

 


Saturday, November 18, 2023

Sixty Years and Counting

 


Where were you the day America lost its innocence? I was in the principal’s office at Our Lady of Victory school when the news bulletin flashed at 1:30 and then Walter Cronkite appeared on the screen to report that President Kennedy was shot. I hadn’t finished my science fair project and I was waiting for the principal to admonish me for my failure to get it done timely.

 By 2PM, it didn’t matter. JFK had died.

 It was a somber weekend, for sure. The heavens opened and poured all day Saturday, from Long Island to Washington. For a twelve-year-old kid, up to that point, it was the saddest and most depressing day in my life.

 Sunday was better. It was a brisk, sunny, fall morning as I walked to OLV, where I served the ten o’clock Mass at my local parish. When I got home, my parents were watching the continuing coverage which was transpiring in Washington and Dallas. My Dad put the football game on the radio as a distraction. When Oswald died after Ruby shot him, the cheer from the crowd was deafening on that old AM radio.

On Monday, November 25, from sunrise to late that night, we watched the funeral, the walking procession with the riderless horse from the White House to the Church to Arlington National Cemetery and back to the White House, where many world leaders and dignitaries paid their respects. It was a truly sad day. And our country has not been the same since.

Sixty years have elapsed since November 22, 1963 and we are no closer to solving this crime than the day it was committed. With all the technology we have developed, and all the theories, conspiracy or forthright, we have heard, our government is unwilling to release the information surrounding this tragedy for us to finally put it all to rest. Why? Do certain people fear that something will be exposed which might be embarrassing to them? Or criminal?

So many of the actors in this event are now dead. But the agencies where they worked still exist. Obviously, Parkland Hospital is still in Dallas and so is the Texas School Book Depository. The administrators of those facilities have nothing to fear in any investigation of the actions done that day by their predecessors or employees.                                                                                           

But what about the government of the United States? Can its agencies lay claim to the same? The FBI, the CIA, the Secret Service -  are these entities’ hands clean and pure? Or the Congress? Yes, they have on occasion pronounced that committees were formed to investigate Kennedy’s assassination. But nothing of any import has ever been released. Why not?

The same is true with every President’s administration since Johnson. He proclaimed via executive order that the records would be sealed until 2039, seventy-five years after the Warren Commission completed its work. And no President since then has had the guts to write an executive order to override this decision. Why? Executive orders are not law under the Constitution.

Not long after the Kennedy assassination, Mark Lane wrote a book called Executive Action, which provided an excellent theory how and why JFK was murdered. This was written in 1966 or 1967 and the movie of the same name, was released in 1973. This was probably the earliest of the thousands of conspiracy theories espoused by many since then.

Since then, we are no closer to knowing the why for JFK’s death.

The question which we all should be asking this many years later, to paraphrase Senator Howard Baker of his question to Watergate witnesses, is: What did the government know and when did it know it? Perhaps, the next President will have the balls to write and declare an executive order to overturn Johnson’s coverup order and get the answers to all the questions surrounding this terrible day.

We will never recover the innocence we had on November 21, 1963 and lost on November 22, 1963. But for our posterity, we can be proud that we tried.

Then, maybe, finally, John F. Kennedy will be able to rest in peace.  Amen.

 




Wednesday, October 25, 2023

Happy Milestone Birthday, Dear Sister

 


Today, my sister Kathy would have been seventy. On September 1, we received an invitation from her daughter Kristen for a surprise party she was planning when Kathy’s surviving sibs (Tim passed in 2020) all would be in New York and together for the first time since our Mom had passed in 2019.

Kathy was apparently in reasonably good health at that time. By the evening of the seventeenth, she was entering Heaven and being fitted for her wings.

To anyone who knew Kathy, she was a loving and caring person, with a heart and a smile bigger than her entire being. She rarely, if ever, had an unkind word to speak of anyone, even if they had done something to hurt her.  She was, as my brother Tim would say, Switzerland, in a world filled with Russias, Germanys and Chinas. But in reality, she was the Pax Romana personified, looking for a way and the means to keep the peace with her words, deeds and gentle soul.

Even as her eldest brother, I admired this trait in her that she exemplified, to which I could only aspire, and would fail miserably in my attempts to achieve. She was truly an angel among us and was not recognized by us who knew her until she was gone forever.

So, today, as she sits at the Table of Good and Plenty with our Mom, Dad, brother, and other family and friends who passed before her, she is the Guest of Honor as she celebrates her seventieth birthday, a milestone here on Earth for sure and her first birthday in Heaven.

One last point I would add about Kathy…

She always had a smile for anyone and everyone she would meet. It prompts me to recall the last verse to the theme from The Sandpiper, a movie of love, loss and cherished memories. The song was called The Shadow of Your Smile, which Kathy would sing on occasion with the feel and fervor of Barbra Streisand. But it is the last verse which really hits home for me:

Now when I remember spring

All the joys that love can bring

I will be remembering

The shadow of your smile

Happy Birthday, Dear Sister.

Saturday, October 7, 2023

A Memorial To My Godson

 


We are here today to honor my Godson, Steven Wessel, who passed on October 10, 2019. He was but twenty-seven years old and will forever be that age all through Eternity. Perhaps, he got the better end of that deal.

 While we are sad that he no longer walks among us, it is also a day where we can share our happy memories of him, as well.  Ultimately, it is not a somber day, but more like a bittersweet one.

 Steven, I wrote a commentary for your thirtieth birthday on April 3, 2022 called Happy Birthday in Heaven, Godson. I highlighted some, but not all, of your qualities, like marching to your own drum, your independence, and your unique sense of humor. But you were, in this life anyway, a pretty good cook, a fine actor and a great singer, as well. You were also a good and kind son to my sister, Roseann and my brother-in-law, Gary, and  a loving brother to your siblings, Kevin and Kelly. Not a day goes by where my sister doesn’t think of you and sheds a tear or three that you aren’t here.

 Since that fateful day four years ago, each day there is always someone who speaks of you, whether it would be a friend or a family member. These were and are the people who love you still, and keep your memory alive in their hearts and in their words.

 We have lost, and you have welcomed, other family members to join you at the Table of Good and Plenty to share in God’s Love for us all. My brother, Tim, my sister, Kathy and your Dad’s Mom, Joan are there with you now since you paved the way for them. You, and they joined my Mom and Dad who were already waiting there. Wherever that may be.

 While we are at it, Steven, please give a big hug and kiss to Nana, Gramps, Uncle Tim, Aunt Kathy, Grandma Joan and a tutta la nostra famiglia that you have the privilege to see every day wherever you are, and tell them all that they are missed every day by so many. But I am sure they, and you, already know that.

 So, Friends, lift your glass to Steven’s memory and know that somehow, some way he is here sharing this day with us. And remember the joy he brought to each of our lives. God Bless You, Godson.

 And May You Continue to Rest In Peace. Amen.

 

 


Monday, September 18, 2023

Our Angel Gets Her Wings

 


Let me start this off by sharing a funny story about Kathy from my book, Life is But a Dream:

(His mother came home from the hospital with his new‑born sister that October morning in 1953. He was two- and one-half years old. He was happy to see his mom, since she had been away for what seemed a very long time. Actually, it was only three days.

 Anyway, he was running around the house, generally causing a ruckus. His mom asked, no, pleaded with him to be quiet while his sister slept in the bedroom. Mom sat in the kitchen crying. He realized that things weren't the way they were supposed to be, so he listened and went inside to watch TV.

He was quiet for a long time. His mom went to see what he was doing. Well, to her surprise and dismay, he was carrying his sister by her ankles in the hall. "She was crying," he said, "and I wanted to help you. So, I went to get her for you."

 Panic seized his mom. However, she had enough sense to reach out and take the baby from him. "Thank you, Frankie," she said, calmly. "That was nice that you wanted to be a big brother to your sister, and that you wanted to help me. But next time please come and get me, OK?")

 That was the first memory I have about my sister. But it is not the last.

 As small children, she was my first friend, and as we grew, as our family did, we would be there for each other in good times, as well as, in not as good.  When I got myself into trouble, as my Angel Sister, she would comfort me. When she was in trouble, I would defend her.

 In our early adult years, we would hang out at the Garden City Chop House. On Friday and Saturday nights, Kathy, Jeff, and I would spend hours there with our neighbor Joe, dancing and listening to great music from the many bands which played there week after week. And on Sunday mornings, the three of us, would trek to the Tulip Bake Shop, tired and with no sleep.  Oh, did I mention that Kathy and Jeff were still in High School and under eighteen?

 Anyway, there was one night, when Jeff and Joe decided to see how many Rums and Cokes they could drink. Kathy, sensing there would be a problem, called home to have our Dad come to pick her and Jeff up. (By this time, I was working overnight at the bakery, so I heard about this later.)  Dad came in and witnessed this chug-a-thon and instead of ushering them out, he sat and watched them have at it drinking his Red Label and water, which Kathy bought for him.

 Finally, at 4 AM they got into Dad’s Kingswood Estate wagon. Kathy sat in the front, while Jeff and Joe fell asleep in the back seat. When they pulled into the driveway, after much prodding. Kathy was able to wake Jeff and Joe up. She followed them into the backyard whereupon, Joe walked into the hedges to his house while Jeff continued to the street to leave an involuntary protein spill in the gutter.

 Kathy, in her usual way, helped Jeff into bed and set the alarm for Jeff so he would be able to get to work on time. When the alarm rang what seemed like two minutes later, Kathy came to wake Jeff up so he would be able to get to work on time.

 Kathy would be there for her younger brothers and sister, too, whenever any of them needed to be bailed out of a difficult situation, which they would remember and could share the intimate details of their own experiences.

 In later years, all of us would remember her soft-spoken, gentle way she would be there for any of us. Her favorite means of address to any of us was “Dear Brother” or “Dear Sister”, She even treated her brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law with the same salutation. She instinctively understood that family was not only blood-related but friend-related, too.  She made no distinction in her treatment.

 She is now with our Mom and Dad, our brother Tim, our nephew Steven, our cousins Mike, Tommy, Kerri and Jerry, and all our deceased family and friends sharing God’s Love at the Table of Good and Plenty. Perhaps, as she is fitted with her well-earned Angel Wings, she can put in a good word or two for the rest of us.

 As all of who knew Kathy would agree, that was her way. Always.  Rest In Eternal Peace, Dear Sister.


Sunday, September 3, 2023

Why the Mental Capacity of Our Representatives Is Critical


It has become apparent to any fair-minded person that there are people in out highest levels of government from both parties who allegedly suffer from some form of dementia. Presently, both President Biden and Senator McConnell are two men who should not be in the positions they have. Nor, actually, should Diane Feinstein or several others in both the House of Representatives and the Senate.

 I am a seventy-two-year-old man who has several critical health issues and have learned that age eventually becomes a factor in any endeavor one attempts physically and mentally. When I was in my fifties, I resented the term “over-qualified” because I felt I was discriminated against. Subtly.  But as an older person, I recognize that employers must be considerate of a senior citizen’s abilities and capabilities.

 I have come to believe that Members of Congress and those in the Presidency, and the Courts are in positions where, if they are over seventy-five, they should take a cognitive test to make certain they are able to understand the significance of their decisions. This isn’t an issue of discrimination. Instead, it is common sense, because as a person in a critical position which affects us all must understand the ramifications of those decisions.

 In the private sector, employers expect their employees to be able to function in challenging situations. For example, a hospital would be subject to a lawsuit and potential financial ruin if a surgeon on staff were to lose a patient because the doctor slipped and accidently injured or killed a patient. Or, if a Supervisor at Home Depot or Lowes allowed a person with slower reflexes to drive a forklift and the driver hit a customer, or dropped a product which caused injury, the financial damages would be costly.

 Now, I realize that these are exaggerations of worst-case scenarios. Or are they?

 There are several people in their seventies and eighties I know who come across as sharp as a tack and can hold their own in a conversation, make reasonable decisions and/or put forth creative ideas which a younger person with less experience may not be able to provide. And, then, there are those who should not be sitting in the driver’s seat of their car, driving on the expressway. We all know someone like these people.

 We are the employers of those we elect to the highest positions in our government. We should be able to expect, no, demand that they can function at the highest physical and mental capabilities.

 Whether the person is Doanld Trump, or Joe Biden, or Mitch McConnell, or Diane Feinstein, or anyone who aspires to serve at the highest elected positions of government, we should expect that they pass a cognitive and competency test if they are over seventy-five. As the employer, we would be remiss in our responsibilities if we didn’t.

 I realize that some people will disagree with me and that it fine. But I expect that the next President has the mental capacity to understand that his decisions will affect me, my children, and my grandchildren.

 And so should you.