personal

undeniable and inexplicable order

Today is the ninety ninth anniversary of the birth of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, thirty fifth President of the United States.  His younger brother and attorney general, Robert Francis Kennedy, was fatally shot on June 5, 1968.  J.F.K. was assassinated on November 22, 1963, two days after R.F.K.’s thirty eighth birthday.  

Over the past very many years I have always noticed that death has no respect for special occasions.  People often die on, or close, to times like Christmas, Easter, and other milestones.  My mother died exactly a week after my fifty fourth birthday. neral was on my father’s eightieth birthday.

So many things are like that. Between William Henry Harrison in 1840 and John F. Kennedy in 1963, each president elected at a twenty year interval died, either naturally or by assassination, while an incumbent.  This has been attributed to the curse of Tippecanoe, dating back to Harrison’s  questionable tactics in the Treaty of Fort Wayne with the Indians.

Another example of inexplicable coincidences can be found in the 1917 Our Lady of Fatima apparitions and events that are relevant to them. In 1517 the world was afflicted with the Protestant Revolution,  the first of many evil milestones. In 1689 Luis XIV refused Jesus’ request to consecrate France to the Sacred Heart.  During 1717 the Masons were founded. 1789  was the beginning of the French Revolution.  The Russian Revolution occurred in 1917, and the Berlin Wall came down in 1989. There are so many other supposedly coincidental dates that are crucial to the circumstances surrounding Fatima. I’ve only skimmed the surface.  These, and many other dates and milestones, fit a most undeniable pattern that cannot possibly be overlooked.

This kind of order, visible only in retrospect, has to be reckoned with. I have no idea of exactly what’s going on but it has always made me so insatiably curious.

daily post~:orderly

no order..haiku

a place for everything

orderly

ladies, form an orderly queue

orderly

leap at your own risk

I’ve never been a fan of change, especially significant change. The first time I moved from one address to another~of the moves I can remember~was around my twelfth birthday, when we moved from Jackson Heights to Lindenhurst.  That drove me nuts.  It was an unavoidably necessary leap but I still plum stunk at it. I always tell people that that was the incident which forever left me wary of change.  I can handle incremental change, the kind that happens in small degrees.  That kind of change happens incessantly anyway. Any change, however, that can be referred to as a leap, gets me crazy.  Ever since my earliest  days I’ve always been so pathetically physically clumsy, weak and uncoordinated. I was the kind of kid whom no one else ever wanted on his team, in gym class or otherwise.  Physical leaps are yet another kind I tend to shun.  While I can understand that leaping into things can often be unavoidably necessary, I don’t leap well. I should rather saunter as much as possible.

like a boss

a leap altar and more

daily post

daily paws

leap~daily prompt

peeps for leap

a lot of plants grow in brooklyn

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Snapshot Stories.”

IMG_0094 On May 9, Steve, Mary Anne, Sam, Bridget and I all went to the Brooklyn Botanic Garden in Park Slope.  We left right after I got back from 8:00 a.m. Mass at St. Mary of the Isle. Mary Anne and I are originally from Queens so I was quite happy to be right next door in its neighboring borough. As a general rule, I don’t pay very much attention to plants but I’ve always been so smitten with them. They’re significantly more interesting than animals. Unfortunately I don’t know much about plants so I was forced  to pay such a lot of attention to anything I wanted to find out about.  We spent a few hours walking around the grounds enjoying all the sights . My only problem was that I wore a heavy long sleeved dress shirt on what turned out to be a warm day. Besides that I took a hooded sweater with me.  While there we sat down and ate for a while. During the time we were eating we got into a conversation with a guy who came up with an answer to a question one of the kids had asked. From the looks of his age, and the clothes he was wearing, I assume he was a Viet Nam era veteran.  It was such a nice quiet day. I was having  a relaxing enjoyable time. Unfortunately, my memory card in my camera ran out of storage space so I couldn’t take any more than one video. There was no problem with taking pictures though.   To my chagrin, my story isn’t very involved, complicated or interesting. It was just an especially fine spring day in  a most pleasurable environment.

https://toweararainbow.wordpress.com/2015/06/24/2837/

https://insach21site.wordpress.com/2015/06/23/snapshot-stories/

https://ledrakenoir.wordpress.com/2015/06/23/young-romance-and-dating-2/

http://www.rileycentral.net/tasty-weekend-festival-treats/

https://thelonerose.wordpress.com/2015/06/23/a-special-drawing/

https://teachingwanderinglearningwondering.wordpress.com/2015/06/23/snapshot-stories-sorrento-song-e-napule/

i stunk at math and science

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Land of Confusion.”

Over the course of my school days I had always been quite a reasonably good student. Math and science were the two very definite exceptions to that rule, however. As a high school freshman at St. John the Baptist in West Islip, I somehow got put into a biology class, in spite of the fact that freshman biology was intended for students who were good in science. Mr. Richard Morabito, my teacher, frequently called my mother and complained to her that I could never keep up with the work. He wondered if maybe I should start wearing eyeglasses again.  When I was a  senior I took Mrs. Joan McGrath’s probability and statistics class. She, like Mr. Morabito, knew that I was a conscientious student but that I just couldn’t handle the subject matter.  One of the very last things she ever said to me officially as a teacher of mine was that it would be a bad mistake for me to study math from then on. The next year, as a freshman at S.U.N.Y. Farmingdale, I was a liberal arts major. During my first semester I was forced to take another statistics course. During my first week there the professor insisted upon my dropping out of the course because he knew I’d never be able to pass it.  Those are only a few representative examples of the horror story that was my life in math and science classrooms. My late cousin Karen, who was a math teacher, once told me that she could never understand how anyone could possibly be a poor math student, considering that it was so logical. Perhaps that’s my entire problem. I must not be capable of handling courses that are too logically consistent. I appear to require  the twists and turns that go with the humanities and social sciences.

http://geekergosum.com/2015/05/13/oh-the-humanities-or-land-of-confusion/

https://promptlings.wordpress.com/2015/05/13/chemistry-of-fate/

https://casssuselessopinions.wordpress.com/2015/05/13/pure-vexation/

http://www.bukkhead.com/blog/2015/05/13/1251/

https://bkaotic.wordpress.com/2015/05/13/land-of-confusion/

https://halfbakedlog.wordpress.com/2015/05/13/the-boob-tube-ruined-algebra/

the greatest american hero, or hoagie

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “You, the Sandwich.” For many years my cousins, Larry, Gary, Joe, and I were on a bowling league with the Knights of Columbus St. Jane Frances de Chantal Council 6526 in Wantagh, New York.  We bowled every Friday night at Wantagh Lanes. While we were on the league they gave me the name B.L.T.  It only makes sense that were a restaurant to name a meal after me it would have to be a B.L.T. sandwich.  Of course there’s no rule that says its ingredients would have to be restricted to bacon, lettuce and tomatoes. I’ve always been quite smitten with Swiss cheese so it could have quite a healthy helping of that on it too.  In order to be consonant with the way I operate it could, at least occasionally include things like turkey, chicken, ham, fruit and anything else that may remind people of my lopsided antics. Never having been overly fond of spices I could see how anything with an exceptionally intense kick should be kept to a minimum. I’ve never been able to handle anything too sloppy or sticky. The local Lido Kosher Deli has a hamburger that drives me crazy because it’s so hard to handle, being so extremely sticky. My sandwich, by definition, would have to be plain and simple in that respect.  As long as its ingredients include those three primary ones, and it’s reasonably need and easy to handle, it’s quite the perfect edible symbol of me.

http://www.bukkhead.com/blog/2015/05/06/the-bukkhead-comes-with-a-side-of-maui-onion-potato-chips/

http://clipsandsnippets.com/2015/05/06/everyone-should-order-two/

http://parents-are-people-too.com/2015/05/06/three-tips-for-indulgng-but-not-spoiling-a-child/

https://kirstydavies1990.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/you-the-sandwich-daily-prompt-may-6th-the-nom-nom/

https://homemadefigtales.wordpress.com/2015/05/06/the-sampler/

https://unbolt.wordpress.com/2014/12/17/thirst/

the milk man cometh

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Going Obsolete.”  Of all the technologies that have gone extinct within my lifetime, I’m not sure of which one I miss the most. I can remember, though, that when I was a  kid in Jackson Heights, milk men, and other kinds of salesmen, used always to drive through people’s neighborhoods in trucks. Since I’ve never liked traffic or crowds it would be nice if we could go back to those days. Now we have mail order sales and internet sites that do sort of the same thing, so in a certain sense the convenience is available. I used always to enjoy, though, seeing those big silver colored milk boxes on each neighbor’s front stoop each day in anticipation of his regular delivery from the milk man.  Perhaps it would do more harm than good, though, to bring back that specific thing. I’ve never liked traffic and having it unnecessarily obstructed by some character stopping every few feet as he drives down the street would drive me to distraction. We already have that anyway with U.P.S. trucks, school buses and other kinds of vehicles constantly defiantly bringing traffic to a frustrating halt.  In my imagination, of course, it’s quite a fond memory and a nice idea.

https://itchyquill.wordpress.com/2015/01/20/tokens-of-our-time-the-history-of-some-of-our-favourite-symbols/

http://2020hines-sight.com/2014/05/04/2450/

https://alotfromlydia.wordpress.com/2014/05/05/i-can-quit-you/

https://lynan.wordpress.com/2014/05/07/good-old-tape-recorder-days/

the travails of a daily blogger

Over the course of the past full year, I’ve been able to post virtually daily to my blog. It’s only been for about the past week, since I got a case of pinkeye and bronchitis, that I’ve been cheating a little. During  the time I spent writing daily posts on WordPress, I learned that it’s hard for a blogger, no matter how frequently he posts, to build up a significant following. I also found out that a wide variety of people online can be counted on to be just as outspoken about their ideas, however eccentric and controversial they may be, as the people I’ve met in person.  Blogging regularly has given me an insight into how many different points of view there are about religion, politics, history, pop culture and anything else that can possibly be referred to. It’s so difficult to come up with fresh new ideas each day to write about. A daily blog gives me a significant chance to hone my writing skills and to remain as articulate and as well informed as possible about things.  There’s a major danger, though, with all the amateur opinions available, of missing out on a chance to get a legitimate understanding of things. The news media, of course, always tend to distort things anyway. Although blogging can be quite an exceptionally interesting experience it also leads to the risk of predictability. I try to avoid platitudes, repetition and other bad habits. It pays to be articulate.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/winning-streak/

http://unbolt.wordpress.com/2014/10/05/a-doll/

http://tombalistreri.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/one-day-lost/

http://oh3za.com/2014/11/30/winning-streak/

http://trablogger.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/canon-love/

http://parkinkspot.wordpress.com/2014/11/30/happy-one-month/

http://somnivision.com/2014/11/30/photography-wrap-up/

st. gabriel’s and st. john’s

If I were ever forced to point  out an era during my lifetime which I could refer to as the very best of times it would be fairly easy.I’ve always thought that there’s a tie between my very early days, up until my twelfth birthday, on 92nd Street in Jackson Heights, when I was attending St. Gabriel’s Elementary School in East Elmhurst, and the time somewhat after that, during my teens in Lindenhurst, when I was attending St. John the Baptist Diocesan High School in West Islip. During my very early days in Queens, I lived in quite an exemplary neighborhood where there were all sorts of colorful characters.  Two thirds of the families on my block were either Italian or Hispanic and constantly spoke Italian and Spanish. I was involved with a lot of activities at St. Gabriel’s, in both the church and school, especially Brother Thomas’ bowling league, and the glee club with Brother Edmond and Brother James.  My friends, many of whom are now on my Facebook friend list, were quite an exceptional group of kids. We spent a lot of time together, visiting each other’s families.  During my teens, at St. John’s, I had such a nice time too. Many of the kids I got to know there are also now on my friend list list on Facebook. It was a time for me to learn about new things and ideas, and to grow into what would become ultimately my current persona. Then, as in Queens,  I was known as the kid with the obnoxious sense of humor. Unfortunately that period was the disco era but once I  got over that I enjoyed all the other things about it. I was involved with lots of activities, including the student council and chess club. I realize that those weren’t perfect times for me. I had all sorts of trouble in certain ways. They were quite exceptional though in the sense that the bad very far outweighed the good.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/salad-days/

http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/11/18/drinking-day/

http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/11/18/drinking-day/

http://dcmontreal.wordpress.com/2013/01/24/back-when-i-was-young-montreals-angloirish-pubs/

http://rolbos.wordpress.com/2014/11/18/when-the-compass-fails/

http://grieflessons.wordpress.com/2014/11/18/fruit-salad/

organization girl’s room

I’ve always been quite pathologically disorganized. My old friend Jo Anne, reminded me a few years ago that when we were kids in St. Gabriel’s she and the other kids from our neighborhood used always to have to wait quite an obscenely long time before I was finally ready to go home from school. It plagues me to this very day. If I could have a key

lovely-2_2014-11-13_01-28-31to one room to which I ordinarily don’t have access, it would be the key to Organization Girl’s room. Organization Girl, from what I’ve always heard, is such an exceptionally fine lady and she appears to understand that not everyone is good at keeping things very neatly arranged and clean as a whistle. She knows that some of us tend to be awfully seriously absent minded and less than sufficiently attentive to life’s unavoidably necessary details. From what I’ve always heard of her, she’ll give me quite a good stern talking-to and flatly forbid me to leave until I’ve mastered each and every single one of the minimum requirements that are involved in being truly tidy and good at keeping track of things. “I’m not getting down from this washing machine,” she’ll sternly inform me, “until you’ve truly learned how to keep track of things in an efficient manner, whether you like it or not!”

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/golden-key/

http://vexingpoint.wordpress.com/2014/11/17/daily-prompt-golden-key/

http://thecrookedmind.wordpress.com/2014/11/17/a-key-to-past/

http://amaviedecoeurentier.wordpress.com/2014/11/17/199/

http://hopethehappyhugger.wordpress.com/2014/11/17/a-pop-of-colour-a-key/

http://livingonchi.wordpress.com/2014/11/17/daily-prompt-just-dad-stuff/

all we need is just a little patience

There are different waiting periods for different circumstances. Some things take only minutes and some can even be expected to take decades. Each individual should find out what the average time is for the specific goal he’s after and take it from there. Of course often someone may be expected to be kept waiting for an inordinate length of time. Under those circumstances it pays to be at least a bit pushy.  I most certainly don’t ever intend to wait for an hour on a phone while some nasty customer service characters subject me to annoying music while they feel free to twiddle their thumbs. Still, one must accept what one must accept. Unfortunately I’ve always been quite impatient and that never works out to anyone’s advantage.  The only answer to the question about how long someone should wait for something is, as long as it takes.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/waiting-room/

http://abozdar.wordpress.com/2014/11/16/driven/

http://livingonchi.wordpress.com/2014/11/16/511/

http://inkhammer.wordpress.com/2014/11/16/waiting-room/

http://gordonflanders.wordpress.com/2014/11/16/things-come-to-those-who-wait-and-those-who-dont/

http://lemonlimefollies.com/2014/11/16/gone-forgotten/