...second chances

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life...We live in parallel across the empty blue, We are like earth and sun and I still circle you---Amy Sky.

I had observed this quote in a FACEBOOK account during the week and I must admit that I have taken it to heart. I will give credit where credit is due. It is my life in so many ways and therefore I am going to give some perspective on it.

Life is too short to wake up with regrets.

So love the people who treat you right.

Pray for the one's who don't

Believe everything happens for a reason.

If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it.

Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it.

The power of this reflection is that every word in every line has meaning; has substance. Life is way too short to have regrets. As I have already thoughtfully remarked in a Reunion Newsletter, 3/4 of my life is already behind me. Of what is left, I am going to live it as fully as I possibly can, and with no regrets.

So love the people who treat you right. It is my intention to embrace the many people whom have done that to me. And that would be the many that I have known since my childhood---as well as those whom are a part of my adult life experience including my Wife and my Family. As well, there would be those whom I have gotten to know well through reunion experiences, church experiences, work experiences, social experiences, and some chance encounters that have demonstrated a sincerity of purpose and conviction.

Pray for the ones who don't. Admittedly I suppose I do. My prayer efforts are more for the deserving people and the deserving purpose or efforts they are trying to undertake or need help in overcoming the crosses being placed on those shoulders. For the ones that 'don't', my approach is just to move on, move away from that which I see as an impediment to my well-being.

Believe everything happens for a reason. Having gotten to where I am in life and the age level and experiences that have come along with that, I do believe that insight. I do believe that there is a Hand in all this. That there may be some happenstance, I will accept that. But the overwhelming courses-of-action that take place do so because His Plan is being effected.

If you get a second chance, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it. Simply put---guilty on all counts.
(...passing through a Towne in the middle of My Life; True Reunions, faces in a book, classmates, and the like). The aforementioned carries better if one uses the riffs to Soul Asylum's RUNAWAY TRAIN.

Nobody said life would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it. The jury has rendered a quick verdict on the first portion of that remark. Life is a challenge; it does have its upheavals, trials, and tribulations. But what does make it worth while is all the goodness, all the friendships, and all the embraces that humanity will return to you---if you allow humanity its inclination to do so.
--{-=@
Hickok

Where Have All The Flowers Gone....

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, show if I'm going to be the hero in my own life. (Gina dreams of running away; she cries in the night/ Tommy whispers--Baby it's OK>>>Jon Bon Jovi--Living on a Prayer).

Know that when he made his keynote address at the Democratic National Convention in NYC in 2004, pointing to the Television screen, I said to my wife...there is the next President of the United States. And, in 2008 I voted for this man, Barack Obama. With this as the backdrop I'm about to venture into an area here with My Web Log, that I haven't ventured yet; politics. I'm going to make remarks some may find unsettling. I admittedly, am expecting a backlash but I feel I have to speak up because of what St. Matthew 25:40 says...what you do to the least of my brethren, you do onto me. And so far, as I see it, nothing sufficient is being done for the poor huddled masses of Haitians.

President Barack Obama has handled the Haiti Earthquake Crisis terribly. He has been very hands-off; very slow to respond. He seemed more concerned of his political future; being way more immersed in the race for Ted Kennedy's senate seat with the Coakley/Brown contest in Massachusetts.

The world blasted President Bush and the FEMA Director Brown for their 24 hour hesitation responding to Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath. With flooding spread out over a wide area and continued gale-force winds, logistics to implement recovery strategies was a challenge.

With the longer-than-a-week delay in answering the call for help on the Earthquake Crisis, there is simply---no excuse. No excuse, whatsoever.

In the past, regarding Haiti, whenever there was civil unrest whereby it appeared another military or political coup was in the offing bringing about instability in our sphere of influence in the Western Hemisphere, military intervention was an automatic. Typically in the form of the USMC, our appearances occurred at break-neck speeds. And this would transpire in eras prior to the transport technology that exists today. And speaking of interventions---and yesterday's technologies, allow for the following. During the 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis, by osmosis---almost overnight--- the U.S. Navy's 4th Fleet was able to blockade the entire island of Cuba.

So where are all those ships and all those supplies for this crisis??? That was the question one who observed Diane Sawyer last Thursday and Friday on the ABC Evening News, knew she was in effect trying to ask. During those 2 one-half-hour News Reports, the observer could tell she was holding back tears as she was begging for an implied answer.

Allow me to shed some light on that question!!!!! This will demonstrate how clueless, and how empty the leadership vacuum is. Yes I have heard it on 3 National News Networks and 17(that number has a way of being visible everywhere) Cable News Networks. The limited capacity of the Port-au-Prince Airport had such bottlenecks that some of the supply planes had to go back to origin because they were running out of fuel and couldn't land in Haiti. If our Leaders in the Pacific during W W II acted this clueless fighting the Japanese; if they had such a bewildered mind-set, we'd be speaking Japanese today. Every island we took, we turned into an airport so our planes; from the P-40's, and P-51's, to the B-29's, could refuel and retool!!!! That is how we kept the pressure on Japan. The Enola Gay took off from Tinian, for God's sakes!!!

With Haiti the first set of C-130's land and let the military go to work with bulldozers to cut-up enough airstrips to get the additional planes to land. The next set of C-130's has the box trucks and the straight trucks to start distribution of food, water, and supplies. Other bulldozers cut out some patches to allow to place down self-contained tent hospitals. From there one starts to work outward in arterial directions. During this advancement, the Marines are visible with the security element. And of course, the 'points' are on foot to maintain the visibility and the assurance that help is near.

Instead what we have is a most shameful response to a catastrophic crisis by the most, ineptly lead, powerful country in the world. And today, 20 January 2010, there was a 6.1 seismic aftershock. With still more death and destruction---no promise, no purpose, and no program.
--{-=@
Hickok

The Crane Library; The Ivan Kincheloe Story

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). This ACCOUNT will, perhaps, show that I had some interesting moments and memories of Elmwood Avenue, as I was growing up. Every man dies; not Every Man Lives(William Wallace; BRAVEHEART).

During the course of conversation that had us discussing coincidences, and fate, regarding Loblaw's at 765 Elmwood Ave---you mentioned a couple of interesting locations. You had suggested the happenstance of the dry cleaners---and, in lower-case, the library. Of course, there was always Ward's Pharmacy. As well, there was that pharmacy up on the corner of Delaware & Delavan. But those are middle and late 60's experiences so we'll cover those in another chapter.

Regarding our conversation---later in the evening, as I was making my way up the stairs for bed, my mind expressed an exclamation, OMG!!!!

When 'library' was mentioned, was she referring to The Crane Library on Elmwood & West Ferry!?!? Don't get me wrong. In the early 60's we were more inclined to go up Delavan Ave. to School 56 to play rubber-ball baseball. But on occasion, we would turn south onto Elmwood Ave and go to the Library. And this essay is to convey my memorable moment of my Crane Library experience. One of my most vivid recollections of a book, has to do with one that I pulled off of their shelf to read, almost 50 years ago. I was so captivated by this book that I decided I was going to withdraw it, and take it home to finish. I have not GOOGLED this, yet. I feel so confident of this book's impact on me, that these 49 years later I know that what I'm about to recount, is 100% accurate.

It is the true "Book Report" of the Ivan Kincheloe Story, one of the USAF's fabled jet-fighter test-pilots. I was drawn to this subject matter because it was largely from this genre of personnel that the spawning U.S. Manned Space Program was gleaning its Project Mercury, Gemini, and Apollo Astronauts. The test-pilot's job basically is to take prototype fighter aircraft, intentionally push the machine to its limits of endurance, and then come back to talk about it. Kincheloe's successes were so pronounced that he was earmarked as a premier test-pilot for the USAF X-15 Project. But on a July day in 1958, it would all go terribly wrong. (...and who knows young lady, while I was cutting through the first pages of this book, you may have been sitting at an adjacent table).

One of the nagging spectres of jet propulsion speed, was dealing with an in-flight emergency where the pilot had to eject. At this level of speed the pilot, still strapped into his cockpit seat assembly, is ejected upwards from the cockpit.

The concern!?!?!?

Several mini-explosions take place in micro-seconds which has the canopy jettisoned away, and almost simultaneously, the spring-loaded seat assembly is blasted upwards from the cockpit. But, even as all of this takes place with pin-point accuracy, the ejecting pilot now has another problem!!! What is coming up in a hurry about to split his rear-end in two, is the tail of the plane that he has just ejected from. In this scenario pilots have sustained serious injury and death.

Kincheloe's assignment was to experiment with an ejection procedure similar to that of the nose landing-gear. In effect what is supposed to happen is that underside flaps open and the spring-loaded ejection seat is shot downward. The concept works great if you are at 5000 feet, or higher. But if a pilot is at low altitude, and doesn't have the ability to roll his plane, he now has a serious problem.

On July 26, 1958, when Kincheloe took-off with his F-104 Starfighter jet, he almost immediately developed trouble and went out of control. Not gaining any significant altitude, and not being able to roll his jet he would have to eject out from underneath his jet like a paint-ball---and splat onto the surface just below him.

Instead, he chose to stay with his ship, and go down in a Blaze of Glory!!

The kids I hung around with would always walk along Elmwood; never Richmond, as the thoroughfare between our house and the library. Elmwood always was a beehive of activity and always---had a Pulse Beat!!!! Out of this, grew a curiosity to gather and explore.
--{-=@
Hickok

Venture Capitalist!!!!

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, show if I'm going to be the hero in my own life. Every man dies; not Every Man Lives(William Wallace; BRAVEHEART).

So I decided to do something I have never done before in my life. I went out and purchased some common stock in the Stock Market. Sure, in the past I, or my wife and I, did some mutual-fund activity back in the pre-bubble-bursting dot-com era. But almost all of that ended up a loss, or was cashed in to cover tuition or wedding expenses. What we still have would be, frankly, considered a non-entity.

In light of this, I decide to take almost half of what was left of an AIRBORNE/D H L 401(k) retirement account of mine and make a major-league risk with it. Between D H L taking it on-the-chin financially forcing it to close, coupled with the 2007/2008 financial crash, there wasn't much left in this account to begin with. With what is in there, I have decided to do something bold.

I mean, the one thing that keeps ringing in my ear about this financial meltdown, is the question of whether somewhere in all this, is there...a 1954/I B M!?!? So sometime ago started looking at a couple of stocks in particular. And I singled that effort out to watching just one. At one point this one in particular was trading at $2.54/share. Keep in mind the name of this Company is very high visibility, and like so many others this one as well was looking to crash and burn.

Over the last several months however, it has slowly started to rebound. With this rebounding, my curiosity has increased. Then two more elements conjunct on Friday 8 Jan 2010.

The first of these additional elements is that the Belle Center has this gentleman, Michael, whom I have come to know from previous workshops, come in to do an information forum for the Americorp Youth Volunteers. These young people by-and-large are soft on investment strategies so this instructor is prepared to do an INVESTMENT AWARENESS WORKSHOP. Michael works for the UNITED WAY as a credit counselor. While he is still setting up, I flat-out ask him his opinion of my intent. He listens, nods, and gives it a cautious approval rating suggesting I purchase less than 1/2 of what my intention is. Now comes the COUP DE GRACE for me!!!! As he is now doing his Power Point Presentation, when he puts up onto the projection screen, to explain to the class how to read a financial page stock-ticker-line, Michael has This Company on the Power Point Slide to use as the example!!!

The periodical observation, the discussion, the Power-Point slide; once, twice, three-times...A Lady!!! Taking this into account with some other amazing developments in a week-end chock-full of 'moments', I decide...no time is a good time, that is why right now is the best time.

So today: the Calendar shows it as 111, as well as 011110(bar code!?!?), I went to my financial advisor and I purchased what will amount to a few hundred shares of common stock in this company. In effect, I went with my gut rather than the more conservative recommendation of Michael. Before I'm bent, folded, and tucked away, there are a couple of prayers I'd like to see answered, not the least of which would be a Loft(y) Retreat!!!
--{-=@
Hickok

The Haloed Angel Katy...

A mini-Reunion, a retirement party of sorts; fellowship among friends. All three had a relevance at the supper table of Malone's Restaurant on Delaware Ave in Kenmore NY during the evening of 6 Jan 2010. In attendance is Carmen Panaro(Bird Ave.), Bob Grunthaner, Norb Warnes, Barbara Curvin Barrett, Sue McKnight, Maria Mulder Herberger, Lou Marconi, and guest-of-honor Bob Marzullo.

Conversations were a wonderful mix of small-talk, humor, high-energy quips, group interaction, retrospection, and reflection. When there was humor some of it was side-splitting, when it became reflective, the close observer would recognize the power and the humanity of the moment. I was personally touched by the sincerity of Bob Grunthaner's remarks regarding the content and the heart & soul that was evident in my newsletters, correspondences, and the essays now in my new web log. I expressed my appreciation for his reflections responding that with myself having more time, I'm trying to put more quality in whatever efforts I undertake.

The evening's piece de resistance had to be the stories Barbara was conveying. Barbara, among other things in her storied life(and maybe those will be considered worthy of sharing some day), does volunteer work giving tours at our Forest Lawn Cemetery. Wow!!! Barbara had these individuals come to life, so-to-speak, as she revealed the intrigue wrapped around some very very famous Family names. Maria and I were fascinated and touched by the story centered around the Blocher Mausoleum. So much so, that our Maria researched a biography of the Blocher Family and Mausoleum. It reads as follows:

Nelson Blocher born in 1847. In the spring of 1881, the Blochers hired a new maid. Katherine was 20 years old, pretty and unattached. Nelson was immediately smitten and made no attempt to hide it. During the spring and summer of 1881, he found ways to be near Katherine and to spend time with her. There is reference to an injured kitten Nelson and Katherine nursed back to health. Nelson’s parents did not approve of the romance and quickly made plans to put an end to it. In the fall of 1881, Nelson’s father John announced that there was business to be attended to in Europe and Nelson needed to make plans to leave for an extended trip. Plainly, Nelson’s father wanted to separate the couple and put an end to the romance.

The Blochers fired Katherine with a strict admonition never to return.

In the spring of 1882, when Nelson returned from his travels, Katherine was gone and nobody seemed to know where she went. John and Elizabeth Blocher told their son that two weeks after Nelson left for Europe, Katherine had stealed away in the middle of the night, leaving nothing behind but her bible. Nelson was heartbroken. He couldn’t believe she had left without even leaving a note. There must have been a reason and he was determined to find her and convince her to come back. Throughout the remainder of 1882 he searched for her. And like the lovelorn for eons before him, he neglected his business and health in pursuit of love.

By the fall of 1883, Nelson was tired and wornout from his search. Broken in spirit and sick with a fever, Nelson took to his bed. By early winter of 1884 he was drifting in and out of sickness and depression. Soon he became bedridden. His only solace was the bible Katherine had left behind. Then on January 24th, 1884 Nelson’s time in this realm was over. He died with Katherine’s bible clutched to his breast.

Nelson’s mother, Elizabeth, no doubt driven by a maternal blend of love and guilt, insisted that a suitable memorial be erected to her son. The task of designing the monument would fall to the creative hand of John Blocher. At the time of Nelson’s death, John Blocher was semi-retired. He had taken up sculpting as a hobby and would use those skills in designing the Blocher monument. The legend maintains that the maid herself posed for the angel sculpture.

The first resident of the mausoleum was Nelson, who had spent the years since his death in the cemetery’s receiving vault. Following him were his mother, Elizabeth Neff Blocher, who died of pneumonia at age 78 on March 31, 1904 and John Blocher, who died of “old age” on June 30, 1911 at the age of 85.

But where exactly are the Blochers spending eternity? They are underneath a movable slab in the floor of the mausoleum. According to a Buffalo newspaper report published when the mausoleum was being built, there are six crypts. This story led to a rumor that, in the safe of the cemetery office, there is a quit claim deed stating that one of the other crypts is reserved for Margaret Katherine Sullivan—the maid. This story became fodder for romantic stories—that often ran around Valentine’s Day— suggesting that although the love struck Nelson could not have Katherine in life there was still a possibility he might spend eternity with her.

Alas, Forest Lawn management tells us that there are only three crypts below the Blochers’ marble likenesses. Poor Nelson is spending eternity just as he did in life—with his parents. The whereabouts of the maid in unknown.

Ultimately, because of a Forbidden Love never consummated, pressured to believe the Servant Katy had abandoned him, Nelson grieves so much of his love lost, that he slips into a dpression, LOSES HIS MIND, self-destructs, and dies. The haloed angel that rests atop the mausoleum is said to be the Angel Katy watching over his his reposed soul. I'm getting that lump in my throat, again!!!

And here is the deal folks!!! We had so much fun on Wednesday, we are going to do it, on a grander dutch-treat!?!? scale, on Friday 8 Jan 2010 at the old High School hang-out Casa di Pizza on Elmwood Ave. in Buffalo NY. Bob Marzullo, may not want to go back to Florida!!!!

--{-=@
Hickok

Wild Horses

Natasha Bedingfield; Wild Horses

I was asked what was my wish, for the New Year. Frankly, the Currier & Ives image that one may have assumed to have taken place; the one to be painted by Norman Rockwell, didn't get that picturesque. But what would my wish have been. On a million different levels, and those whom know me real well know what some of those levels would embrace. When I lived on Delavan & Richmond, I was the second fastest kid on the street, and when I had my Wheaties with PET evaporated milk that morning, I would beat...Buddy Johnson. My wish would be to...run with the wild horses!!!!!!!

Oooh, wild horses I wanna be like you
Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too
Wish I could recklessly love like I'm longing to
I wanna run with the wild horses
Run with the wild horses, oh
I wanna run too

I feel these four walls closing in
Face up against the glass
I'm looking out, hmmm
Is this my life I'm wondering
It happened so fast
How do I turn this thing around
Is this the bed I chose to make
It's greener pastures I'm thinking about
Hmm, wide open spaces far away

All I want is the wind in my hair
To face the fear but not feel scared

Ooh, wild horses I wanna be like you
Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too
Wish I could recklessly love like I'm longing to
I wanna run with the wild horses
Run with the wild horses, oh

Yeah, oh oh, ye-yeah

I see the girl I wanna be
Riding bare-back, care-free
Along the shore
If only that someone was me
Jumping head-first, head-long
Without a thought
To act and damn the consequence
How I wish it could be that easy
But fear surrounds me like a fence
I wanna break free

All I want is the wind in my hair
To face the fear, but not feel scared

Oooh, wild horses I wanna be like you
Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too
Wish I could recklessly love like I'm longing to
I wanna run with the wild horses
Run with the wild horses, oh

I wanna run too
Oooh oh oh oh
Recklessly emboundening myself before you
I wanna open up my heart
Tell him how I feel, ooh ooh

Oooh, wild horses I wanna be like you
Throwing caution to the wind, I'll run free too
Wish I could recklessly love like I'm longing to
I wanna run with the wild horses
Run with the wild horses
Run with the wild horses

Ooh ooooh ooh ooh ye-yeah yeah oohh
I wanna run with the wild horses, ooooh

Hickok
--{-=@

Joan d'Arc

To come up with the lyrics and images for such a compelling ballad of this mysterious, yet legendary teenage Female Warrior---Cohen had to have gone into Gracie Slick's Alice-in-Wonderland world.

Now the flames they followed Joan of Arc
as she came riding through the dark;
no moon to keep her armour bright,
no man to get her through this very smoky night.
She said, "I'm tired of the war,
I want the kind of work I had before,
a wedding dress or something white
to wear upon my swollen appetite."

Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way,
you know I've watched you riding every day
and something in me yearns to win
such a cold and lonesome heroine.
"And who are you?" she sternly spoke
to the one beneath the smoke.
"Why, I'm fire," he replied,
"And I love your solitude, I love your pride."

"Then fire, make your body cold,
I'm going to give you mine to hold,"
saying this she climbed inside
to be his one, to be his only bride.
And deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and high above the wedding guests
he hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

It was deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
and then she clearly understood
if he was fire, oh then she must be wood.
I saw her wince, I saw her cry,
I saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long for love and light,
but must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

Music can be found on U-Tube: Leonard Cohen/Joan of Arc.

Lou Marconi