Voices Of New Hope


Friday, January 16, 2009

Local Author Spotlight: JOHN HENSEL

TALES OF A SUBURBAN GYPSY
A Story of Finding LOVE
__________________________
PART FOUR – FINAL INSTALLMENT
This book is dedicated to all the People (angels) who took the time to help me along my PATH.
Thanks for your Faith in me and the Laughs we had along the way.

_______________________________
From: Notes to my Son
A TIMELINE TOWARDS DESTINY!
___________________________
SURVIVING is easy...
It’s LIVING that’s Hard!
___________________________
CHAPTER 5
‘KC IN THE SUNSHINE’
Do you want to dance?
Do you want to feel good about yourself?
'Do a little dance
make a little Love
get down tonite
get down tonite'
KC was the product of nothing when I ran into him working within a Miami record company (TK Records). I met KC and other companies like Carribean Cruise Lines from the beginning..just when they were launching there careers.
All KC had in ’72 was a dream in one hand and a broom in the other as he polished the floors in the warehouse. It didn’t matter. He was ‘in’ the industry that’s all he needed.
The next time I saw him he was filling a gap in schedules and became the opening act for ‘Stevie Wonder’ the same night I might have discussed earlier.
His act then was similar to a scene from a movie I saw years later ’Made in Heaven’ where Timothy Hutton is possessed with a song after he gets his first instrument while hitch-hiking to California sitting near Venice Beach he tries everything to create ‘the sound’ he is looking for.
Sitting for days playing to no one slowly the rhythm begins very, very slowly with a lot of stops and gaps in-between and this is similar to how KC began.
I thought he should have a monkey on his shoulder as the vast stage engulfed him making him look very small. He and his baby make-shift piano/organ were creating a new sound but in ’72 the sound was just a bump in the night and while people laughed at him and stared at this sight on stage I couldn’t help but wonder how strange life is and how amazing the business is because no matter who you are or where you come from your dreams can come true.
KC showed us how dreams can come true and I am so glad I had a glimpse of him while I was chasing mine.
_____________________________
_____________________________
(jpeg 1)
‘PLACES’
'My Soul is restless
but my Spirit is Free'
‘LTD and the RED ROCKS OF COLORADO’
I might have written about Jeff Osbourne and LTD before but our adventure in Colorado is note-worthy..
coming off a major rock festival in Bloomington, Indiana where LTD was the only R & B group on the bill and staying up for two days partying and being with two women in one night ( a first for me..I am obviously proud of) a maid at the motel we stayed was my first friend for the evening and a late-night waitress (the boyz in the band were going nuts over) who picked me up around 2 am or so from the bar near our motel.
Driving to Colorado at 6 am the same morning was filled with pleasurable pain and delirium as the band put me at the wheel of their equipment truck.
I am sure this chore was fueled by punishment from the band ( I was the road manager for this 12 piece black band out of LA) who now hated me because I had slept with the awesome waitress (oh well) as we drove our little caravan across the mid-west to reach the mountains of Colorado ( I still managed a smile on my face)..where we rendezvous with our next gig in downtown Denver.
The first approach to the Colorado landscape is very inspiring and over-whelming especially to a young man from NJ. was raised in low-lying areas beaches, hills, valleys and small cities.
When I lived in So. Florida we used to joke about how flat it was and that Miami's biggest hill was a speed-bump (it's true).
Major cities blend together, New York, Chicago, Philly..buildings, streets, rivers, people all mesh and create a fabric and atmosphere of their own identity called Life..Mountains are another thing and as we left extremely flat land across America's mid-section and entered Colorado I wondered how our little Ryder truck would make it up the grade it was so immense..
Traveling up and into the Colorado in a slow moving vehicle seems like forever so we just kept pushing the grade and came over the ridges into Denver located in the middle of giant mountains.
Going on a day and a half of no sleep I settled the band into their hotel and grab a strong power nap to try and get rid of the 'road' and from that I decide to head out into the city to explore and find the Red Rocks of Colorado..
I was on two missions that day..
1. To see this interesting structure which housed a natural rock-made amphitheatre
2. To find the concert site where my friend Marc (an old road buddy), manager of Seals & Crofts was playing that evening..
My pal and tour guide for the day was a young man named Joe who had helped LTD load in and set-up for the following night's show..he guided me to 'The Rocks' which he claimed he was familiar with and after a little bit we arrived..
The outside of 'The Red Rocks' is deceiving for all you can see is a ridge of rocks and boulders going straight up towards the sky. Looking up, my competitive nature comes out and I stupidly said "Do you want to race up." Thinking I could beat him ..Joe said "Ok..let's go" and up we climbed.
As we left I ambled behind..keeping with him for a few seconds then like lightning he was gone..up, up and out of sight like a human billy goat.
My sight left him and focused on my own footing which was dangerously important at the time for I was walking on sharp rocks and small crevices that surrounding my every step..as the minutes ticked by I felt like an ant crawling on an iceberg.
I heard laughter and looked at the top where Joe was watching me laughing.." What's taking you" I think he said. "It's only a little bit further".
I dug in and climbed further towards the top of the grade.
Joe it turned out was a native to the area and the 'Red Rocks' was his ‘yard’.
He motioned me further and said..."Look at this' and in the same breath suggested I look over the top.
Naturally there was a 'regular entrance' to the Red Rocks but for some reason I had a very strong desire to climb them on the exterior.
I'm glad I did.
Looking down, I could see a stage. The height we were at made the platform seem miniature but you could see it spread out built naturally from the formation of this magnificent and huge structure. Thousands of seats cascaded from the stage area and spread through the immense amphitheater.
Standing over the 'Rocks' Joe showed me small pigeon hole areas where people would sneak up to hear and see a show as well as anyone who had bought a ticket.
He also told me people had fallen to their death from these perches after a wild night and my stomach made my mind remember my fear of heights that had haunted me over the years.
I gulped again and timidly asked if we could climb down soon since I would be back tonight anyway to see the show.
THE SHOW
Sometime in the evening I wondered back to the 'Red Rocks'. This time I walked in fashionably as Marc left backstage passes for a friend and I. We were ushered through the paying customers like royalty.
The music industry can be rewarding. I have seen amazing performances from Coast to Coast backstage and onstage eating the food and drinking the drink with many performers and their supporters.
Life is like that. I learned early on that it's not what you know …
it's Who you know that counts.
Moving thorough candle-light catacombs looking for Marc and the band was interesting as we followed an echo of laughter and music through the rock maze and as the aroma of food heightened we stumbled onto my friend hanging out with his band who was playing softly against the acoustic backdrop of the structure turning their talents into a new dimension of sound and their souls into little children.
Seals and Crofts, played throughout the night sounding like cupids who were sitting in the clouds as the audience embraced their every sound.
I remember the brilliance of the Colorado star that provided our ceiling with the magic of the 'rocks' enhancing the melodies in an almost a mystical yet haunting way.
Marc, Cyndy (his wife) and I sat on stage eating, laughing and giggling well into the night - happily caught up in the magic of it all.
______________________________________
‘ELTON JOHN and the DANCING PUPPETS’
The 70’s brought with it live performances that were coast to coast non-stop and when Elton reached our shores to promote recent releases of “Good-bye Yellow Brick Road” and “….Piano Player” a British tidal wave hit America leading him straight to Miami and directly to our site at the Sportatorium.
This arena was fast becoming a landmark for music and the bigger venues in town.
I saw the Moody Blues, Doors and Jefferson Airplane when I first got to town and now that I was in the business I met and worked with everybody who was anybody.
The heat rose fast the morning of Elton’s arrival and our crew came early to prepare for the ‘storm’. Preparation was paramount. I put 8 more people on the payroll to give us a total of 14 bodies to haul, secure and assist with the Brit’s needs.
We were there in force But nothing I mean nothing could prepare us for an evening with Elton John.
His troops and tech’s brought an arsenal of equipment, electronics, sound and lights that could run a small city.
As the hot day (90 degrees) slowly shifted into the evening people came and the crowd swelled arriving by the thousands.
To say it was a party atmosphere is an understatement.
By 6pm the arena of 5000 was filled but still people were coming and in their glee and greed ‘the promoters’ kept selling tickets. Thousands of tickets. I don’t think the fire marshals were in town that week-end for nothing was going to stop ticket sales.
I lost track of the actual count - all I know is people pushed awkwardly to the front of the stage in a crushing wave of excitement.
By 8pm music from the amps filled the arena with a melody. The only chance for ventilation was a slight breeze from the backstage area as the temperature kept soaring.
With little thought I assembled our crew on the lip of the stage to help with any crowd problems - which began almost immediately. The first causality fainted as the girl’s boyfriend handed me her lifeless body - before long dozens more succumbed to the stifling heat.
In a swift fireman drill motion our squad escorted people of all sizes to the back.
Tall, big, short, strong or frail dozens if not more passed out.
One team would stay with each victim until they were revived while another kept scooping others over the stage area and out of harms way.
By now all of us were drenched with sweat and down to pants and shoes.
I prayed that any second Elton would appear.
With the lights slightly dim we kept the assembly line going while looking for trouble spots in the crowd.
Leaning down to pick-up another victim I felt my pants split straight through the crouch.
With no time to think I somehow tied a t-shirt around my waist.
Turning again towards the front a number of things happened at once - Elton walks on stage immediately hit by blinding lights and the sound of Miami to greet him.
I stood a few yards away feeling and looking naked. The split in my pants seemed as large as the Grand Canyon.
There was no time to move, run or think. Luckily I had enough brains left to grab a small speaker and sit on it maybe 20 yards from his piano and as it turned out most of the performance.
During the show it seemed the concert was my own special moment as I watched in amazement the energy and creative flow from this giant superstar.
If you have seen films from this period then you would appreciate the theatrics.
Time would prove Elton to be the biggest showman of the day.
Townsend started the party by smashing guitars. ELP added a 2-3 ton drum set that rotated with the beat and Elton brought with him a fun-loving entourage that hit the stage halfway through each show.
For an hour I was blinded by lights frozen in my seat next to him obviously to scared to move but enjoying the hell out of it.
STILL I did want to leave. Soon I got my chance.
With the crowd erupting to “Crocodile Rock’ a half dozen 9 ft. Dancing Puppets came out to greet us dancing to the song. Lights surged, music lifted and there was no possible way to control the crowd. At this point I knew I could go unnoticed and jumped over the speaker and into the safety of the backstage.
Our crew could do no more to secure the crowd so we joined in and partied with Miami until it was time to tear it all down and load up Elton for another city..
I don’t think Miami has been the same since…
------------------------------------
‘LOS ANGELES...1975’
I had drifted into sleep for a minute and caught myself waking to laughter next to a crazy Irianian girl wiggling and giggling on my armrest – CALIFORNIA.
My next destination in life.
Partying on the plane across country to this new land helped me get through the late-night flight and memories of what I had just left behind as the last two years of living in the 'Big Apple' had wizzed by..
Without hesitation I had traveled across the United States with advertising projects and entertainment events as far north as Maine and as far west as Colorado.
At 24, living in NYC was fun, exciting and non-stop BUT something really big was knocking on my soul - if I didn't leave the big Apple now I felt like I would be trapped in this circle of life without an exit.
Just like Alice. I took the next sip of life and decided to jump down a new hole and let it take me on an adventure - this time to the West.
I respect families that stay in one area their whole life, raise their kids, know their neighbors and die two blocks from where they were born.
My grandmother, Mom and Aunt were from the small town mentality that raised me into a young man. I love them dearly but my calling was something else for when I hit 18 my soul became restless and when the opportunity to travel and live somewhere else came my way. I never looked back.
Los Angeles was just another step in 'my evolution'.
_____________________________
ONWARD
I embraced New York very slowly when I arrived in the Winter of 1973. My brownstone over looked Central Park. I rented it because the landlord was having a fire sale and I negotiated a cheap rent. I didn't realize how lucky my move was until that Spring when 'The Park' started to blossom and became 'alive' in front of my eyes.
This spring resurgence 'woke me up' and put a skip into my step as the sound of concerts in the park and plays by the Sheaksperann's brought people out of their homes by the thousands.
The surreal existence in NY was sometimes like a Fellini movie, and sometimes like a trip to the library..I never knew where each day would take me..one thing I do know is that I don't look back when I leave an area..I just keep going moving into a new day with new adventures and new people sometimes making me feel like a Pirate on the 'high seas' and guilty the next. (did I keep moving everywhere because I was running from something (myself) OR was I looking for 'something better' in my life?
I prayed that one day the answers would come and bring me peace..
Venturing deeper into the city I fell in love with 'The Village' and moved near it to a new home in Soho. My life became richer and fuller.
Many of the people in NY are transplants from other towns, cities and countries. These folks are used to a lifestyle they grew-up with and for whatever reason have thrown themselves into the mix.
--Connecting with people is easy once you get past their barriers and my new city friends loved to drop their pretensions and just 'hang-out' and be themselves.
Besides discussions of day to day city life. People love to talk about where they grew-up, friends, places and stories of their life. So NYC 1970's became not just a playground of dance, music, art and food it became 'Home' for most of us---.
I was just starting to feel this pang of loss (or was it my hang-over) when the pilot announced we were over New Mexico and would be entering California airspace soon.
A 'dim' of light slowly appeared in the night out my window and I took my gaze off the girl next to me to watch an immense glow sweep past the darkness. In a few minutes the entire area was filled with light as more then a city appeared.-.it looked below like an entire country had surfaced.
Los Angeles at night was never ending. I tried to see where the hills and country began and the city started it appeared there was no beginning and no end..it all connected itself through one huge light source..one that never seemed to end..my stomach reacted in an instant of excitement and fear.
Once again in my life I felt very much alone.
I prayed that one or two of my contacts in this huge land would come through.
In a city this big I didn't think there would be a problem getting a job.
I was wrong again ..dead wrong.
_____________________________
'STUCK IN LA as the Angels again watched over me..'
To be honest I had no idea where to go when I hit 'the city of Angeles' so I headed to the most popular destination I knew of .Hollywood.
If NYC was a Fellini/Woody Allen movie..Hollywood was like going to a 'Mad Magazine' office party. Whatever you wanted you could get in Hollywood. I just wanted a LIFE but somehow I would have to find a way to live and relate with the tranvsites, gays, actors, writers, musicans and homeless who all called this city there own. This New Jersey boy was far from home but determined and very, very lucky.
My luck turned into an angel one dark night as I roamed the streets and bars surrounding the hills.
When you are close to being homeless, jobless and new to an area you better do something quick to enhance you life..Stuck in a cess-pool of Life is scary and LA can easily become a cess-pool for the wrong characters are everywhere.
But once again in my Life an angel of protection was sent to help me..I don't know why I should doubt the protection or small miracles that had surfaced in my life..always appearing just at that right time to guide me in the right direction or protect me from harm..
These miracles are too numerous to ignore and it seemed that when things looked the worse - the very worse - a calmness would come over me.
Los Angeles in the late ‘70’s was no different as Everett Sharpe appeared out of the dark one night when I was out with some of the regulars in a local bar.
Everett was anything but who he seemed to be. Thinking he was another street urchin with a good heart I hung out with him in that first week not knowing how wealthy he was as a wholesale clothing magnate importing threads from India by day..by night his thirst for beer and women was non-stop. Something in me however saw his 'heart' and I began to really trust him.
When my temp weekly rental ended and I was just about homeless I confided in him and a plan developed instantly to find me a place to hang my hat on. He had heard of a small studio for rent near Capitol Records that was cheap, needed paint and was vacant. So for $90 a month he and I dove in, painted the small flat (he painted mostly)and I took my first step to a new life in the city of Angels.
Saved again...
---------------------
Time Traveler
Each generation and time-frame has it's own distinct characteristic.
When you Live it...you Live it and don't think much about what you are doing...
YOU just do it!
It is like having the wind at your back and in your hair driving down the highway with no real destination in mind but the next rest stop..
----------------------------------------
‘NOTES OF FREEDOM’
I felt the real essence of Freedom when my Mother passed away in '82.
Attending her cremation burial in Palm Beach and standing with a group of her unknown friends the feeling of awkwardness was an understatement as I looked at the little hole in the wall where her remains would lay.
It made me numb without feeling to stand there.
The air around my sister and I was still and it was getting hotter by a Florida minute as we stood there wondering what to do next..
In an odd sort of way our lives had criss-crossed each others throughout the years. When I left Miami in the early 70’s Mom decided to take the plunge and travel to West Palm Beach to live out her years. It was a huge and bold move for her. Over time she met and re-married but by then I was the ‘lost son’ who now lived in California swallowed up in the adventures of life.
Her breast cancer was heart-breaking. The distance of living in SO CAL made it even harder but I constantly called, sent flowers and lots and lots of Love. My only comfort was the fact that her new husband, Frank was so helpful and was at her side throughout all of it.
Mom and I had a very tender spot in our heart for each other.
The suffering Mom endured in this life was over and after years of a pointless and heartbreaking disease enhanced by a misguided medical professional life on this earth swiftly ended for her in the middle of the night.
Looking around the crowd that eerie morning I felt out of sorts and a stranger to the many people who knew her in Florida.
Above the crypt and the place where my sister and I stood I heard a rustling and a breeze that slightly moved through the branches and the leaves of a near by tree. I looked to see if anyone was noticing this curiosity but the crowd just stood there in silence. A second later a gentle wind ran through my hair and around me and it felt like something was somehow touching my soul.
My sister moved closer and said 'did you feel that?'. She smiled and said 'It's Mom saying good-bye'.
I had a funny feeling that it was her. Free as a bird. Soaring like the wind. Saying Good-bye to her earthly kin. And as a tear feel down my check I looked up towards the sky and said Good-bye.
Life I decided is well worth living. I don't want to celebrate my life dwelling on Death.
I think the lesson is to be Free NOW and I think it is damn important to figure out how to do that.
So here I am.
_____________________________
“Life is a.. mystery
Everyone must stand alone..
I hear you call my name
and it feels like..Home.”
..Madonna
__________________________
Son, what I have written below is the true essence of your Mom.
When you knew her in Northern California we had just lost a business and were raising children. Beautiful children and you are one of them. Your Mom was a special LIGHT in the world and with that LIGHT she helped turn my LIGHT on as she did yours…The LIGHT you carry is very special and it will someday touch the lives of many people…Just remember we as people are here on earth to help one another. None of us is better then the other. How could we be? We are equal – created from the same source…when you grasp this thought and wake up each day with a song in your heart the whole world will change around you…
THANKS for being my son! You have taught me a lot.
--------------------------------------
(jpeg 2)
CHAPTER 6
‘THE LITTLE TRAIN THAT COULD’
Most people are afraid of the unknown.
When the wave of the 60's threw me into the 70's I found myself in disarray and fearful of what I had become.
I had always felt in control of my life. In the past my purpose and intent was clear, grounded and then one day the energy I was comfortable with abruptly stopped.
The sound in my head was as loud as the 'Gong Show' bell telling me to 'grow up' - my soul shouted 'get a life - move into adulthood' .
The message was there but I was at a total loss or understanding of how I could move forward and actually ‘do it’!
I was now out of the 'mainstream of life'. This strange 'new' part of me made me feel like a drowning man in a deep moving river where no raft or life preserver could help me.
The strengths in life I valued vanished - instead of the Bold Open and Innovative spirit of adventure I loved being apart of ..I felt Shallow and Fearful and it left me aching for a foothold of who I was.
Stupid insecurities and fears crept in. Fears like high places.
Living in Soho (NYC) at the time I didn't want to even look at the twin towers which I could view from my studio - let alone go in them.
Many times I sabotaged job interviews or avoided the many parties that were available if it went past the 3rd floor of a building (safe jumping distance).
I got over this fear in my late 30’s scurrying from city to city crises-crossing the country selling high-end carpet cleaning equipment for an inventor in Reno, Nv. while raising a young family.
Endless flying, long restless trips and living across the country can heal fears or hide them if they are not recognized. I know it healed my fear of heights.
Slowly I started learning that when you meet your fears 'head-on' you can overcome them. Hiding from them is like hiding from your 'self'.
Hiding from anything is not an option for me.
The small insecurities seemed very perplexing and this LIFE - this reincarnation
was turning into a huge challenge and learning program.
That is the moment I decided to take small baby steps to regroup - begin life again and re-learn everything there is about life.
To figure out how I (John) could fit in and become a productive person on earth.
Like most of us I had always kept out my natural abilities or ‘physic senses’ (Sight, seeing colors – auras, Listening, out of body experiences and other clairvoyant gifts) for as long as I could while still believing and perusing spiritual knowledge and wisdom.
Escaping the many distractions of NYC I began studying the wisdom and knowledge of the ages passed on through the eons via books, religions and cults looking and searching for the answers to my dilemma.
Something was leading me to a different road in life and I wanted answers. I wanted them NOW and I was willing to turn over every rock along the path to find the truth.
When I heard about the unknown or the physic world it really didn't faze me.
There wasn't too much left in the world to scare or intimate me perhaps the 'world of the unknown' would be easier to understand then living 'in the world' on this planet.
One day I visited a well known physic in Manhattan (Paul Neary) his 'reading of me was not very surprising.
Looking 'through' each person, Neary saw me as a very 'earthy' person who was highly active (sexually) and part of the earth but mainly centered in emotional and physical solutions instead of using my 'inner wisdom' for direction.
He also urged me to move to California where he saw me living and adapting.
So I did.. three months later.
California began a new page in my journeys and as I soon discovered the west coast offered more temptations and distractions then I could ever imagine.
The up and down cycle of jobs and money continued to lead me from survival one day to great income the next.
Fate or destiny again called my name and I began slowly inching my way to San Diego and away from the fast lane of Los Angeles.
San Diego brought me to a new life. A life near the beaches and many of the people I had grown up with in Ewing who had migrated there and who were also looking for a new way of living.
It was also a big step towards destiny -
San Diego is beautiful. In the early 80's there was a peace and tranquility there that allowed me a new life including a great job. One that gave me total freedom to the beach, tennis and a new commitment for community work it also pointed me towards meeting a beautiful and gifted lady. One who had been in and out of my dreams my entire life.
Meeting her would change who I was allowing me to reach new heights within my growth as a person.
The history with my wife, Wendy and I is intense and comparable to a long ride on a roller-coaster that never seemed to end.
When she and I finally settled down -after an intense and rocky start (1985) - we jumped straight into a life of business and raising a family. During this time she was hit with the same dose of 'Soul Reality' that I had experienced in NY.
In unison we both moved out of the games of our youth and took the awkward steps of growing up.
Wendy had always felt safe and in control of 'her world' and never entertained anything outside the box that might be different or unknown.
As 'worldly' as she was deep down she was scared to death of anything physic or unknown to the 'seeing eye'.
Like most people she lived in the world of black & white and the bottom line existence of reality - if she could see it, touch it and smell it then it must be 'real'..nothing 'out of world' would or could be allowed in..
That all changed in a hurry when she took the first step.
The physic world is a bit like evolution. It is always moving within us -once you recognize it you can't go back..it's impossible to stop the flow.
If you have ever opened yourself to mediation, prayer, re-birthing or have had the experience of a 'physic reading' you begin to understand that it is impossible to go against your soul and it's natural progression to develop.
Once you open your 'psychic third eye' it's OPEN and you can never ever close it again. EVER. It is always there!
Wendy's first step into this world began with June Seber from Claremont.
Carol, a neighbor in Del Mar who came from wealth and had alot of time on her hands, referred June. Time to play, explore and create hobbies - one hobby included visits to June's house for life consoling.
Her low key attitude made her 'real' to anyone who met her. She lived in a semi run-down suburban house that was filled with flowers and pictures of Jesus.
June ossed an atmosphere which consisted of complete serenity, peace and trust. Her goal in life was not to make money from her friends but to help them along their path.
I was excited for help or guidance of any kind at this point in our lives both of us were running at full tilt. Each day was loaded heavy with major challenges.
We had just had Courtney our first child.
Her birth ended a 9 1/2 month pregnancy and turned a normal labor into a life challenge.
Courtney did not want to come into this world which meant an emergency C section and weeks of recuperation for Wendy. At the same time we had bought a business both of us had built from the ground floor called Rent Protectors.
The past owner was a real estate tyrant I knew from Ocean Beach who offered us the business and in doing so we acquired a loan from another tyrant, Fred Reale, Wendy's step-dad, who became a millionaire by renovating apts in the slums of Los Angeles. A scum who would try to prey on Wendy as a young girl and turn on Fay, Wendy's Mom, by beating and belittling her, as his sick frustrations incubated.
Through it all I worked everyday after being up all night taking care of Wendy and Courtney and to keep bringing in the money.
I was in a tail-spin and Wendy who had left a good paying job in the insurance world was moving rapidly towards creating a business entity of her own. Our backs were squarely against the wall.
At this point I enthustically embraced any outside help - especially spiritual guidance.
Wendy, like most people was scared to death of the prospect and almost chickened out of going to June's several times insisting that she was a fraud and a gypsy and even used a fake name and information to thwart off any attempts of manipulation.
When we got to June's house Wendy turned white as a sheet and too scared to get out of the car. I patiently played off the experience and tried to make it fun, interesting and another day at the park.
Something worked and we finally got through the front door and met June.
Wendy was like sugar to water - she melted and fell in love with June's beautiful smile and personality. For me it was like visiting your grandmother's house.
The warmth and comfort you feel when you are there makes you wonder why you had ever left in the first place.
--------------------------------
The Last Innocent Soul
Up to this point Wendy had brought out allot of the good qualities in me. She had opened my eyes to the positive sides of life including business and family which I had no clue about.
These steps helped me realize my potential and allowed me to start becoming a true winner in life.
Until June's reading I knew she had amazing qualities as a person but I did not know the totality or scope of it until we heard her deep and inspiring interpretation from a 'soul level'.
The best way to describe Wendy's true essence is to go back in time.
Back to the days when times were simple - pure and thoroughly enjoy.
The 1880's would have been the perfect place for her.
Studying this period through my love of art. I fell in love with the time, the people and how it's rhythm wove in and out of their lives.
The 1880's was one of the last periods of time where people enjoyed life in a simple and innocent way. There were no wars to threaten safety, no industrial revolution to evoke change and not allot of evil in the world to taint hearts.
If there was evil in the world it was easily over powered by innocent hearts that dominated the time. You could feel it's beat through the people - the children and almost taste it's eloquence throughout society.
All of life was filled with a respect towards life and each other not seen to this day.
It was a time of tea parties, walks by the lake, casual get togethers and picnics.
Lots of laughter prevailed.
The world was submerged in simplicity and a child-like innocence.
This period is captured in time through it's paintings, authors and decorations. Cupids and flowers adorned most of the houses and businesses. Tea rooms and parlors were always busy with the people of the day as they laughed and discussed topics of choice.
Impressionist paintings from that time capture the mood and mesmerize you with their magic.
Many 'period movies' such as "Time after Time" with Jane Seymour & Christopher Reeves takes you to this special place where love was pure and bloomed with class and innocence.
This was Wendy - this was the woman inside that June found for me. This is the woman I fell in love with and as June pointed out - the last of her kind. A pure and innocent soul hidden like a jewel in a sea of humanity and according to June maybe one of the last of the truly blessed souls left on earth.
In twists of fate and travels that took me across the country I really was puzzled as to why I had always been on such a long, exhausting journey throughout my life - in and out of great jobs, bad jobs, relationships leading nowhere, and lots of strange situations and people that followed me like the plague.
Despite all the bends and curves in my life it was turning out that I had always been on the 'right' road - straight to her heart.
Somehow destiny lead me to San Diego and this beautiful woman from LA and now I was just beginning to understand why..
I was chosen to take care of her.
Or let's say I chose myself to take care of her.
__________________
New Frontiers
June's revelations of our 'soul connection' opened the door for further spiritual studies.
If there is a strong connection between people perhaps there is a link that weaves it's way through time and space. A connection with lessons and a connection with people we know in this life that we knew in other lifetimes.
My studies in New York lead me to the work of a layman named Edgar Cayce who became known as the 'sleeping prophet'. Cayce's work is well documented and followed by devoted practitioners to this day. The Cayce Foundation located in Virginia Beach,Va is a huge center dedicated to his life.
His work goes beyond reincarnation as he accurately predicted world affairs, wars and natural events. If you remember he is the one who re-discovered the lost continent of Atlantis and the unique society that pre-dated the Egyptians.
I tried to discount his history as I did with other celebrated spiritualist, authors and religious leaders that seemed to good to be true BUT Cayce's work was too deep in accuracy.
Starting with medical breakthroughs Cayce developed a system of analyzing patients while in a deep sleep or trance. The man with a 5th grade education became a well versed doctor who could 'psychically diagnose' all ills.
Each patient visit was written down via his secretary and kept for review over the years. Cayce helped hundreds if not thousands of people.
The amazing thing about his work in diagnosising people is that he was seldom off base. Each 'physic' exam helped his patient one way or another. His prescriptions for cures included intricate and complex mixtures of herbs and natural medicines you could find over the counter.
Most patients were visiting Cayce as a last resort. Doctors had given up on any cures or the diagnosis was terminal and without hope of any kind.
What made it all more credible and believable was his modesty and sincere desire to help those in need.
If Wendy was shy to proceed with further work of her 'awakening' I was not. Cayce's life work opened my mind to the 'unknown' and meeting June Seber triggered something that clearly touched my soul - it gave me the confidence to move forward.
And the yearning to know more.
Re-birthing is a big step in finding out who we were before this life which can pinpoint weaknesses developed in life experiences that went wrong. The process can also be helpful with direction for this life and where were going each day.
To find the truth in yourself you have to look at the complete person inside you.
You hold a mirror to your soul. The pictures that come through in the re-birthing process can be fun, interesting and very painful.
Allot of friends we knew joined us through this process and during this time (80's) the New Age became very popular. Many people though treated it as a personality game. It was quite amusing to hear people exclaim proudly that they were once a queen, king or prince in some far away land and now among us in this incarnation. If things didn't go well in this life they would always have another life to 'get things right'.
This line of thinking is very popular in the eastern part of the world where much of the spiritual community lives in and out of reality with past life philosophies.
I think this idea is not only funny but a big cope-out from the reality of who they are TODAY and the lessons needed for their growth.
Pictures in rebirthing are only brought to your attention to help you with this life. When we are first born as a 'soul' we start the process that revolves around many lifetimes. Our 'souI' never dies just the 'physical body' of who we once were. The 'soul' continues on and on creating lessons or 'karma' as we go. Lessons can be simple or huge depending on each situation.
You are put in (a test) and how you react or respond to that situation is the lesson.
You can either learn from the test or find yourself repeating it - over and over like a revolving door -in this life and lifetime after lifetime.
I am an 'old soul' and have seen myself in physical form over many lifetimes. The glamour of lifetimes is interesting but what really connects me to 'now' is the people in 'this life'. If you seem comfortable and familiar with someone there is a reason. If you are in conflict with a person today the problems more then likely developed in another time and are magnified over and over.
It can all be very deep, interesting and scary at the same time. The only responsibility in this life I ever had besides to my own needs was not until my mid-30's.
Suddenly I was responsible for a family, a business and a person I loved very much.
If re-birthing could help I was totally in.
Letting Go and learning about myself and life helped me understand how to look at the world and interact in it a healthy positive attitude. It also allowed me to focus on a perspective of life that opened me to the 'bigger picture' of the world.
In a nutshell I stopped dwelling on my 'negative little problems' by keeping a perspective on Life and the World around me. My optimistism grows when I compare my 'garbage' to the more important things in life such as: the Homeless, Starving Children, handicapped people, etc.
My life's woes looks pale compared to humanity and it's suffering.
The other thing I found interesting about lessons (tests) in our life is that each and everyday we are shown our weaknesses.
Each step or lesson mastered brings on new challenges. The lesson is to master all the tests and not to succumb to them. By giving up on yourself and staying the same person over and over again you give up on life and your natural progression to evolve.
Over lifetimes the lessons create 'karma' which follows you like a debt card through each life. All of this can get pretty 'heavy and very deep' so when I look at myself I try to keep things Light and one eye on the next lesson I am dealing with and the other eye on the beauty of life that surrounds me.
If you have been reading this.. you probably think I'm an old crazy hippy who thinks too much. Maybe you are right but Think about this for a minute. Are you stuck in a rut and in a revolving door of dating the same 'type' of person' time after time. Not getting ahead financially. Working for idiots who run your life and a feeling of being trapped - no matter what you do?
It is not fate and it is not God's fault. It’s not your neighbor or your boyfriends’ fault it's just how it is in your life. NOW.
You can change the cycle of things in your life by taking these 2 steps..
1. Recognizing your problems - which includes every single one of them.
2. Taking Action in your own life to eliminate the problems.
Simplicity works if you look at the world and your life and work from a focused perspective.
-------------------------------------------
I know it sounds easier then it is..
When I began looking at all of this I had help and support from Wendy and her friends. We went on a 30 day extensive program to diagnosis every little thing about ourselves that reared it's ugly head.
To live with her was difficult at the time for she would catch all thoughts and actions as they took place verbalizing each one. I in turn also looked deep inside.
It was painful but very helpful for years later it has made me a much better person allowing me to look at my next lesson with eyes wide open.
Since I have lived in so many lifetimes and I have not dealt with all of my tests and lessons the ones I have not dealt with have compounded.
EX: Money, Sex, Guilt, Denial, Ego. They all come into play.
Our natural pattern of growth revolves around evolving - learning and working towards understanding ourselves. This means embracing all the good, the bad and the ugly that completes our make-up.
Through this understanding I embrace the unlimited possibilities of life and what life can bring me. In other words I 'try' to remove all barriers that would obstruct and prevent me to evolve in this lifetime. So I can 'dance' through life with the power of good guiding me.
Wendy and I had bonded and shared many lifetimes together and so did our children. I saw many lives in Atlantis, Egypt and a few in the US. We had some good lives and some terrible lives together.
Our children had been with us before. Daniel, Courtney and Chantal all were born to be with us to help us and to learn - for their growth and ours.
We all chose our parents and the family we are born into. All the good and the bad is set in stone and each new born knows it. It becomes lessons for the parents and for the children. Our children need parenting and help to evolve into healthy adults but the reality of life is that we (adults) are just vesicles for each new life form.
It's exciting to see evolution in motion. Each generation is a little bit more evolved then the next. The 'right step' is to teach from the experience we can offer and let the children ‘go and grow' so they can excel and become their own entities with their own destiny.
Many of the friends we have today have been with us in the past. This is why many of your friends seem comfortable to you - you have known them before - many times before and there is either good or bad karma between you.
My choice to come into this life was not easy - I was destined for something else but my love for Wendy was so great the heavens allowed me to come back to earth to meet up with her and to help her with children and with life.
Our children are special people that were born from an earthly angel that brought them to this place called Earth.
Their unique and loving qualities will be noticed by many. I see it in Daniel each and every day and how he touches people so deeply.
______________________
I was born into Love on the day the world is at bloom with it (2/14). I have tried to let Love guide me but over lifetimes I wandered and strayed from my goals.
Another cycle that has plagued my development is choosing wrong people to associate with and in making wrong choices and decisions along the way.
In one lifetime I made a terrible decision. It was during the Civil War when I was put in charge of a platoon of union soldiers during a march. Despite everyone’s advice including scouts I lead the troop down the wrong road and directly into the line of fire from the enemy we were all killed in a hail of bullets and cannons.
Good lives and bad lives they All equate who we are today and regardless of what I had done in the past I convinced someone above for I was allowed into this life. to find her and to amend myself from past mistakes.
My astrology chart ties me into the ‘airhead’ category filled with Aquarius/Pieces. I am almost 100% with Air and Water which makes me a dreamer - fantasizer and futurist.
My 'airhead' qualities leave me out of place allot BUT that was part of the deal I had from above because of my past lessons and past deeds I could come in to this place and ‘try’ to find her but to be here there would be a price to pay and many lessons to overcome - My soul challenges would be great.
If I agreed - I had the opportunity to 'Search' for her and if I was lucky ..really lucky..
I could find her again..
So I came to earth.
_________________
In my early 20’s I used to walk down the street with friends urging strangers to ‘wake-up’..
It seemed like the generation of the ‘60’s awoke one day and decided to enjoy life while the rest of the world was still asleep at the wheel. You could see it in their eyes - Robots in society - walking, talking like the rest of us but just going through the motions.
Wendy’s deep study of spirituality led her into a sincere quest to find the ‘truth’. She first needed to know what made her tick.
Her 'wake-up call' lead her into all areas of study where she painstaking took apart books of wisdom and all of it’s messages.
She possessed an uncanny talent to read between the lines and to get past the basic written words to delve deep into the meaning and essence of what was written, why it was written and most important WHAT was behind the message.
To help her further she would meditate on a lot of the work she read always searching and diagnosing the knowledge and the truth.
She read the bible constantly - looking ‘through’ the hidden language it contained always searching and finding new lessons that could be shared.
Through this many things surfaced and were taught to me and other friends. The beauty of these teachings was not WHAT they contained but HOW each of us should interpreter the information and use it in our daily lives.
Letting Go of the Human Will is the biggest lesson man is faced with. Some time ago man separated himself from God or the power that created us - when that separation took place it disconnected people from a utopian life-style setting in motion ‘Free Will’.
Bridging the gape between ‘Free Will’ and the perfection and understanding of
Ultimate higher powers (God) – LOVE is the challenge and test and why we are here on earth.
If we were perfect like many of the ‘higher powers’ we simply would not be here.
PERIOD.
_________________________
HIGHER STILL
The night sky is hypnotic to me the stars, formations and consolations seem to go on forever and they probably do - for us to think we are the only planet with life on it is short-sided - I know there is life out there -maybe there are just tiny life forms (the water they just found on Mars) or perhaps higher life forms that have evolved over the ages and have mastered many things like TIME, SPACE and THOUGHT...
A very high form of intelligence contacted us through Wendy one day when she 'let go' in a deep meditation. Trusting she was safe ‘an intelligence’ spoke through her. I personally witnessed these events doubting them at first but knowing Wendy had no motive to perform tricks or to look for added attention.
The darkened room we were in came in and out of colors as crystal clear as a rainbow. The energy the entity spoke from was a striking 'purple. The energy that came through her during these sessions pierced through us like electricity and after each session Wendy was like a human light socket clinging to me like a little puppy trying to relax and calm down.
It was hard to disprove. I had never felt energy like this in my life. The room we were in permeated with a unique intensity and my body felt the energy shooting through it.
So whatever was going on had my attention!
Valdek - the entity that spoke was an extremely high intelligence that lives in some sort of energy field. He and his group from this plane are beyond Time and Space and a big part of their job (mission) is to watch over planets especially earth.
Earth was created as a gift to mankind and nature.
A place of beauty, a place of learning (lessons) and a gift from the universe that should be enjoyed - looked after and cared for. There is a 'heart-beat' a Mother Earth presence that feels all the good and all the bad that takes place on the planet.
Because man is so self-destructive and willful the higher powers are greatly concerned and they did not know how much time earth had left. Mother Earth - the heart-beat (or Soul) on our planet is not happy and fed up with the abuse of her home.
She is about to start shrugging off the inhabitations.
All SHE lives for is PEACE, BEAUTY and HARMONY.
That's all she knows. The planet is getting very crowded and very negative each and every day. She is not happy with us and how we are taking care of this place we call home..
I didn’t look at these messages with fear but I easily could have when VALDEK spoke it was a piercing tone that permeated the room and everything in it. He was very clear and forthcoming and as he spoke a great alarm bell went off in my heart for he spoke with an urgency – a plea. The experience left little to doubt.
Something was happening and something will happen soon on earth and it is up to us to either create a Positive environment or a Negative environment while we are here.
My heart also knows something GOOD is going on despite what seems like overwhelming negativity.
1. There is too much going on right now with the planet to ignore the warning signs. A shift of some kind is in the future.
Maybe it's global warming and nature's way of solving the pollution and disrespect. The time- less calendars from the Mayan and Inca civilations stop at 2012. Prophets throughout the ages have predicted changes close to this time.
Whatever happens and when it happens should not bring Fear to the heart..
The signs of change and prophecies are meant to bring Hope.
Hope means A TIME for a new beginning.
2. Many prophets and wise men have delivered similar messages when Jesus was among us many years ago he brought to the people hope and the wisdom to understand. Most religions put the entire burden of civilization on his shoulders. In physical form he was whipped, beaten, and hung on a cross till he died.
He already gave himself for us. He has nothing to prove but before he left he gave us a very important message.
A message designed to help each of us begin anew and to walk on a path towards good. The answer is simple - the answer to a better world lies within each of us. Right Now - the time of salvation is NOW and it is within YOU.
To understand unconditional love you have to live it - experience it and embrace it fully - my respect to God or a higher power is equal to nothing else. The religions and ministries of the world can bring people together in an understanding of this message BUT the real truth lives within all of us. It lives within YOU.
Only YOU know who you are and what your lessons are and how you act towards yourself and others. Maybe it's a time for all of us to reflect on this. Maybe it's a time to Wake-up and become the person we are supposed to be and to stop blaming others for the mistakes and lessons of our own life.
_________________
It all starts with each of us. I am not perfect but I gave myself totally for my children just as I gave myself for Wendy. The switch that was turned on in my heart helped me to understand love. It also gave me the fuel to move on - to help others along the path. I believe this course of living will be the salvation that separates GOOD from EVIL. EVIL and misaligned souls will not remain if and when a shift occurs.
The people and animals on earth that are supposed to be here and grow into this new dimension (shift) will remain to live here and adapt with the change. It may be just a few people or maybe it will be allot it really depends on each of us and how we live our life.
Surviving is not the issue - LIVING is the issue.
LIVING with LOVE and a purpose in this life is what will determine your fate.
These were not empty words or deeds. Jesus was here to shake up man and to assist in putting us on the right track for a last second chance to save ourselves.
His LOVE for us on earth is so great and so unconditional that it bonded us once again to a higher power allowing us another chance to 'get things right'. It is not far-fetched or gibberish - Unconditional Love is the strongest power and mightiest power there is in the universe.
It is here on earth. It is in each of us if WE WANT IT.
Those of us that look within and turn on the switch and Shine with this LOVE each moment - each day - learning the tests through our weaknesses will use this LOVE to see us through ANYTHING. With this understanding we will move together into this 'shift' and into the next phase of the planet.
Wendy's short life here helped me and others to understand this important message which jump started 'my Little Engine' propelling me to create a better life.
This is all I know. This is all I Iive for -
'Yes I Can...Yes I Can..' and the Little Train chugged up the hill and over the Mountain. Nothing could slow him down or stop him.
The mission of life was calling.
___________________________
FOOT NOTE:
I could easily discount the information and stories I have just told but if I did it would be like belittling my life, my friends lives, relatives and Wendy’s incarnation.
SOMETHING has to make sense of our existence and the reason we are here!
I am pretty sure that this material gets close. Very close to the truth!
But there is a pretty simple plan for you. SEARCH for your own truth. When you start that quest turn over every leaf in the book called life and then draw your own conclusions.
From my heart. Thank you..
I am ready for the next chapter.
JHENSEL
TALES OF A SUBURBAN GYPSY
2008
----------------------------------------
THE MISSION OF LIFE
Is not
the things that you want most
it is quite the opposite
and hardly true
as I look out the window and think of You
like so many times before the wrong people are in power
or so it seems…for fairness and innocence
are disposed of in the wind
we all see the turmoil and chaos
you have brought to our World
(enjoy this now) and please beware
your days of greed, hate and wrongful action
will disappear
and in front of your redden-eyes
you will be sitting
alone in fire-a victim of Your own destiny
the reality you bestowed on others
will now become yours…all yours
fear and destruction
will haunt you and live in your mind the rest of your days
I have watched, waited and stayed
STRONG
VIGILANT
And ALERT
waiting for you to slip while
protecting the innocent you have eaten for years
in patience and hidden strength
strong to the last
I am here to say
That GOOD GUYS don’t come in second anymore
our time has come…
we will SOON rule the day!
THE MISSION OF LIFE IS CALLING
Notes
The amazing people listed helped bring this book to life. THANK YOU.
Author Photo –David Schuler
(clothes by Savioni)
Wendy Photo – J. Hensel
Richie Havens- John Haritos
Story Illustrations – Joel E. Roberts
Illustration Editing - Big Bill Hamilton
Editorial assistance – Patricia Lynch
‘One Horse Open Sleigh’ – James Lord Pierpont, 1857
the author

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Local Author Spotlight: JOHN HENSEL

TALES OF A SUBURBAN GYPSY
A Story of Finding LOVE
__________________________
Part Three
This book is dedicated to all the People (angels) who took the time to help me along my PATH.
Thanks for your Faith in me and the Laughs we had along the way.
_______________________________
From: Notes to my Son
A TIMELINE TOWARDS DESTINY!
___________________________
SURVIVING is easy...
It’s LIVING that’s Hard!
___________________________
NEW YEAR’S EVE—1973–1974
Times Square. New York, N.Y. By now I had lived in Manhattan for six months or so and again became a pawn for Jerry’s business deals—either people were on to his scams or he really was a lousy employer.
I was still too wet behind the ears to figure it out but was very loyal to the entertainment business always dreaming the dream of staying within its veil.
My experience in the normal business world made me feel like I was going nowhere fast.
Most companies frowned on long hair and a bushy red beard.
I kept them both neat and trimmed. The hair hitting shoulder length was my pride and joy.
It took a number of years to grow and became a part of me.
With Jerry moving from one silly idea to the next, my work ethic became fast and flexible.
I could be helping a concert in Jersey one week—assisting with another one the following week or helping friends renovate a loft in Soho.
Soho was my next-door neighborhood then and half of it had barren warehouses and the other half was filled with very creative people building living quarters and art galleries.
Many of the Soho lofts were renovated and funded through parties. People would throw a bash and charge $5 a person that would help with the fix-up work.
It also bonded you with your neighbors who shared supplies and what-not and was a great excuse to meet your neighbors.
Soho in the ’70s was a lot like a Fellini movie complete with the characters, stories, drama, and assorted people of all sizes and types.
There was Christy, the sexy girl from Georgia; Alan, the offspring from wealth, a wannabe photographer; Frank, the friend turned junkie; Gloria, the model wannabe and sometimes prostitute; Mike, from Miami Beach, a disconnect from beachfront real estate; Michael, his best friend and fellow beach buddy followed by a cast of temporary friends and one-night stands who wove their way in and out of our lives.
(Photo 10 – ‘New York’)
The stories of concerts, road trips, girls on my roof, and disco nights blended in with theirs, and when we were not creating more fables we shared our lives and dreamt of creating better ones.
I lived in a 5-story walk-up on Thompson St. and had a small but nicely furnished studio. My bed was elevated above the kitchen and a small ladder got you up and into it.
Visitors found out if they were in shape or not when they came over. Once this big girl I met at a local pub joined me and barely made it up the stairs stopping at each landing. When she finally did make it I found her fast asleep on the couch exhausted from the ordeal.
During this time I met a beautiful young girl named Glenda from Euclid, Ohio.
Glenda had white blonde hair and the figure of an ice-skater, which she was. When I saw her shyly looking at me at a trade show in the city, I fell in love and impulsively asked her to move in with me. She did and I am sure the stairs kept her figure slim.
Later that year I was asked to manage a national road tour for LTD, Jeffery Osborne’s band, and I traveled the country, city by city for two months (see Red Rocks story).
When we finally landed back in Manhattan, playing at CBGB’s ending the tour—poor Glenda had gained easily about 100 lbs. and you couldn’t even recognize her except for her beautiful blonde hair.
Glenda finally went back to Ohio on a bus one day.
I kept things going by using all my contacts to keep working.
One project took me into the art world working for Peter Max, the artist. Peter is very famous now ever since he decorated Bill Clinton’s ’91 inauguration with his unique style but the mid-70’s was a struggle for him and most of his work was greatly devalued.
He had a good following in metro areas so we launched a huge art show at the Galleria in Houston, Tx., a town I grew to hate because of the excess humidity.
Jerry orchestrated the financing (taking from the top) and I did all of the legwork, which meant staying in Houston with other artists and gallery owners who assisted with the show.
The trip was a whirlwind and a blur. Peter’s world revolved around art, his two kids, and drugs. Lots of drugs.
All I remember is hanging his artwork all night (there were 200-plus framed pictures); try to sell his work to the public (which we hardly ever did); lots of parties; lots of humidity; and lots of women.
When I landed on my feet from this experience I was back in Manhattan and broke again.
Peter avoided his creditors as usual, which included owing me about $400 to $500.
He found me one day sitting at his accountant’s office prior to a meeting where I tracked him down thanks to his secretary. The entertainment business had made me very resourceful.
I knew the game and Peter found a way to cut me a check.
Right after this I worked a music festival in Maine financed by a fellow from Chicago, Richard R.
Jerry once again was involved and, of course, I did all the legwork.
We set up a two-day mini-festival, which included blue grass, country and rock ‘n’ roll. The promoters expected hundreds of thousands of people to trek to Evergreen, Maine, a ski resort outside of Portland, to see Seals and Crofts, Richie Havens, The Eagles, John Prine, Vassar Clements, and a dozen others.
I saw Richard lose over $250,000 that weekend as his dream for a small fortune vanished with the small mosquito-bitten crowd. He avoided as many creditors as possible.
I pulled off the near impossible, orchestrating a festival in the middle of nowhere. It took all of our resources and then some for in the end the Eagles didn’t show and we were stranded with out a closing act.
(PHOTO 11 – ‘Richie Havens’)
I remembered that Richie Havens was out in the crowd. He had played earlier in the day, and we hit it off really well. I found him strumming his guitar with friends and then approached him to ask for a special favor. As I gulped and took a breath I shyly asked him to help us finish the festival once and for all.
In that moment I also threw a personal favor into the mix well knowing the crowd would love it and to give them a Woodstock send-off they would never forget. (If you haven’t seen the film “Woodstock,” take a look and you will know what I am referring to.)
Richie apologized to the crowd and did the Woodstock finish including my all-time favorite “Freedom”—everyone was smiling and I got paid seconds before Richard R. ducked out of town paying me from the little money he had left from his thinning wallet.
_________________
Throughout all of this I lived in Manhattan paycheck to paycheck and would only go out when I was extremely bored, horny, or had a little extra in my wallet that day.
THE MANHATTAN EXPRESS
(or mending a broken dream)
Rolling through another tumulus year “in the life” I somehow landed on my feet (again) by working week to week and still kept a pretty nice roof over my head and lived a single life.
Still New Year’s Eve, 1973, was one of those financial bleak days. When I added it up, I had about $12 to play with for a big night on the town but sometimes it doesn’t really matter how much you have, but how much fun you want.
This New Year’s I was determined to have fun. So in a Trenton kind of way I decided to get a cheap bottle of booze and hit the streets to celebrate.
It turned out to be a memorable decision.
Heading towards the party in Times Square I walked through a lot of friendly bars looking for the best deal I could find to get me through the evening this meant spending $10 on a cheap bottle of bourbon...then I went looking for the party.
The ’70s in New York meant uninhibited fun. Anywhere you went in the city there could be a party.
I traveled to the Hippo Room one night, concerts in friends’ lofts or basements, after-hour clubs in barren warehouses or office buildings. If you knew where to look, you could find it.
I knew where to look.
But with limited money I stayed on the streets and waited for the party to come to Times Square.
Around 10 p.m. things started to heat-up or it could have been my head, which was already spinning from the bourbon. All I remember is laughing a lot and playing in and out of the crowd.
By the time the New Year came one group I was with stayed near the barricades jumping up and down on them when the lights of the cameras came close.
In the middle of the madness, I met a new friend, Richard.
Richard was smiling with the rest of us, but for some reason I took him to the side and we started talking. I noticed a sadness masked by the booze.
A part of me wanted to know why and I soon found that Richard was not only broke, but also homeless and without any hope. Stuck in the city that never sleeps celebrating New Year’s 1974 drunk as a skunk.
Richard slurring out his words pulled a bus ticket out of his shirt to show me his real goal.
His only material possession was a one-ticket to Somewhere, Michigan. For him “Home” was back to a civilization where his family lived and was waiting for him.
I asked him when the bus left and he garbled out 2 a.m.
A part of me sobered up and a part of me felt my left leg give way as I tried to stand with him to grasp the situation.
Somewhere my brain decided to get him on the bus, but the hell if I knew HOW - Both of us were incapable of functioning well.
Half carrying him and myself we walked, crawled, and stumbled down the many blocks to the bus station.
Sick from cheap booze, worn out, and full of filth we got directions to the departure gates and found the right number for the right bus passing out on a bench directly next to his ramp.
What I remember next is being told to move-on by the station police who had surrounded us… as we lay clumped on the bench.
Stammering out some words I looked up and saw a bus being boarded. The ramp number coincided with his bus ticket and in the same motion I carried him over and past the cops who I think had moved on once they saw movement and literally threw Richard up the bus stairs shoving the ticket to the driver.
I said, “Please get him home.” Richard turned slightly, waved, and mumbled that he would never forget what I had done to help him.
I think I said, “One day help someone in return”... Promise?” He nodded in agreement and vanished to his precious seat.
I yelled up to the driver, “Get him home will you, please?”
Turning I then stumbled my way back the many blocks to the little apartment in Soho and passed out smiling.
The next morning waking up with a hangover that wouldn’t quit (and I am sure the entire world had) … I started thinking again and I thought of Richard who was probably half way home by now. A person I would probably never see again almost like in a dream or haze experience, but one I am pretty sure happened.
I just hope I put him on the right bus!
____________________________________________
This is a portion of my life some 30-plus years ago. The times were fast, fun, and furious.
My friends and I were not outlaws, but we didn’t let rules change our lives or our adventures.
We knew no limits and conquered all challenges.
We also looked at Life as an adventure filled with Fun without limitations.
Interesting enough I still look at the world in this way, but as you get older another word enters your vocabulary—the word is COMPROMISE!
Being a Father has helped me understand the sobriety of that word and the reality that comes with it.
___________________________
MEANINGFUL EVENTS
There weren’t many cameras or cell phones “back in the day.” If we did I would have a wall of memories for you to gaze at but instead the history and times are in my soul and on these pages.
The 60’s and 70’s went by like lightning. If it happened on the East Coast, my friends and I tried to experience it - All of it.
Front row with the Mad Dogs, Joe Cocker, Trenton; Leon Russell/Claudia Lenore ’69; Janis Joplin, Spectrum ’68 (my first live concert); Boz Scaggs (Loan me a Dime) ’70, Worchester, Mass., outdoors in the rain with guest tuba player Leon Redbone.
Richie Havens jamming at the infamous Lambertville Music Circus while the tent explodes from a freak summer thunderstorm gushing water down on Havens who plays on regardless.
Rolling Stones at the 1970 West Palm Beach Music Festival including Spirit; Jefferson Airplane; Grand Funk Railroad; The Who; all day and all night in the rain for three days!
Meeting B.B. King (the hardest working man in showbiz) as he is touring Miami, 1973, introducing me to his best friend—Lucille. Ray Charles (Coconut Grove Playhouse); Blood Sweat and Tears with David Clayton Thomas; DNA Miami Convention starring Jerry Rubin and friends. Meeting and working side by side with some of the GREATEST stars of the time.…
____________________________
GREAT PEOPLE I HAVE MET…
The Bonaduce Family; Seals & Crofts; Ian Anderson; Muhammad Ali; Alice Cooper; Irv Pollinger; Carl Parise; Stevie Wonder; Duane Allman; Mike Winslow; B.B. King; KC; Roger Hedgecock; Vassar Clements; Irving Penn; David Crosby; and the Organizers for Cystic Fibrosis, Special Olympics, and The March of Dimes.
NOT SO GREAT PEOPLE I HAVE MET…
Peter Townsend; Peter Max; Three Dog Night; The Eagles; George Wallace; Dick Clark; Ted Kennedy; Fred Reale; Tatu (“Da Plane…Da Plane”); Steven Stills; BTO; Neil Czujko; Howard Stein; and Republicans in San Diego.
Getting up today in my 50’s is a little slower and tougher than it was years ago and the challenges are even greater now raising a teen-age man/child on my own.
But without these intense experiences I don’t know how I could do ‘it’ for I have seen everything life can possibly throw at you and if there is a message in all of this I know it is filled with hope, inspiration, and a willingness to go on.
For the days of Rock ‘n’ roll are tattooed on my heart, and I can still dance and play with the prettiest girls in town and laugh all night with my friends.
Why don’t you come out sometime and I’ll buy you a drink and tell you some more stories of the glory days.
_______________________
That’s how it is when you are Young... with no real rules to hold you down. You run with the wind and tease it to catch you!
DREAMS
I just woke up from a dream
I dreamed a dozen dreams and did a thousand things...
But all I could do was watch!
I saw death
I saw life and I saw the world pass by my window
But all I could do was Watch!
a car came close to a boy on the street
and as I screamed out loud
nothing came out
and all I could do was Watch!
A tall lady with a hat came over and sat
as I opened my mouth the syllables
fell flat and the words with meaning never came out
and all I could do was Watch!
then I saw a face in the clouds
first I was scared
and then I cried as I saw the face form out of nowhere...
it was not a face of death but of great joy
and I saw my friends who have left me here
on earth naked and alone..
with no one else..
then I saw a figure form in the clouds
and the face of a lover held a baby in the air
and as she blew me a kiss my grandmother and father appeared
but all I could do was Stare
my friends and family who have all disappeared
came down from a mountain
to tell me something dear..
they surrounded my head and came inside..
to tell me they were still here
and live with me forevermore to
share the energy of their knowledge
and
their love of life blew into my lungs
and out through my heart which swelled with pride and made me scream!
and I yelled at the mountains
and to the lakes and the streams
to the trees in the ground
and the oceans abound
I danced on lakes
and yelled some more
and finally felt the essence of nature
and everything that counts
the birds the bees and the insects in the dirt
the small things in the world is what really counts…
and when I felt this energy surround my soul,
I slowly became part of the world…
and knew
the answer is not religion
or cults or people
or Things outside ourselves
it’s about all things and everything in the world and the universe that connects us
to who we are and to each other…
it ALL makes us real
it has to
without it
there is nothing…
void of sound
and light there is no reason to go on...
I go on....
LIFE is full of Obstacles...
You either succumb to its Darkness
OR
You Soar above them and achieve Great Heights..
It is YOUR choice.
Pick One!
(PHOTO 12 – ‘Pier’) LOST FOREVER
WE ARE LOST SOULS THAT TIME HAS MISSED
LOST IN THE “SEA OF LOVE” —THE SEA CALLED ETERNITY
FOREVER AND GONE
LIKE THE WINDSWEPT TIMES OF LOST VISION AND DELUSIONAL NIGHTS
WHEN WE ONCE HAD A LOVE
A LOVE THAT WAS ALL OURS AND OURS ALONE AND NOW IS GONE
(DON’T WORRY)... IT WILL COME BACK
IT HAS TO…
BECAUSE...WE ACHE FOR IT
WE WANT IT SO BADLY
IT LAYS IN OUR HEARTS
A HEART NOW SO BROKEN YOU CAN SEE IT IN PIECES
FLOATING ON THE WATER…
WAITING FOR THE TIDE
TO GENTLY SWEEP IT BACK INTO OUR LIVES
AND I KNOW IT WILL...I HAVE STUDIED THE TIDE!
JUST HOLD ON!
AND NEVER GIVE UP!
PROMISE?
______________________________
(PHOTO 13 – ‘Hurricane’)
TWO
LIFE IN THE EYE
Weather is intriguing.
When I was a young boy in Ewing I would walk out in the fields smell the air and watch the sky.
Something deep inside surfaced. It made me feel how the Indians and Pioneers did long ago when predicting the weather led them to survival or a great harvest.
I could smell patterns developing before they were near and knew when storms were coming hours before they appeared. I got so good at it I could almost predict the exact hour.
It was a built-in instinct that made me safe and secure in myself.
Growing into a young man I found myself in situations that could have easily swept me away.
Life, like the weather, can be either stormy or calm depending on what is occurring.
To keep my perspective I would ask the pioneer in me to handle things and to help me find the eye of the storm.
I learned to center myself in the worst of situations and mastered this technique through many of the trials and fire drills life can throw at you.
It not only worked, but it helped me to excel in the worst of conditions.
I read somewhere that adversity brings out the best in all of us.
We are born to WIN in Life—sometimes being on the edge of tragedy allows us to see ourselves for who we are. Our TRUE self emerges and we either sink or swim through the challenge.
I am either very lucky or very blessed because I have always either survived or excelled to great heights despite what is going on around me.
A calmness of the mind brings solutions and positive options to situations that seem out of hand or disastrous.
Situations like:
Helping friends blindsided by powerful drugs and hallucinations—so powerful that they didn't know who they were, where they were, or how to even function—sitting with them through the night into the next day, whatever it took to help them get through the experience.
The parties and concerts we used to go to in the 60’s and early 70’s made these experiences all too common.
>Stuck in a N.Y. Blizzard with a madman.
>Hitchhiking to a Louisiana Music festival (1971)
>Years of concert productions in Miami, New York and Los Angeles (’70s) including road manger of a 12-piece R & B group that took us across America (where some nights were memorable and others were not).
>A trip to New Orleans that left me almost homeless and dead.
>Moving to Los Angeles—selling door to door in Watts—a few years after the famous Watts riots.
>Walking through the bully police of Boston protesting Vietnam before it was fashionable.
>Surviving the streets of New York and Los Angeles.
______________________
When I think back at the close calls it’s interesting for I was always SAFE from harm.
Living through Life threatening challenges makes it difficult to keep your mind clear.
SOMEHOW—some way there has always been something that has protected me and watched over me.
I don’t take it lightly.
I respect this power.
A Power I don’t understand, but one that has always been at my side.
Each day I wake up I thank the universe for being there when I needed it most.
When the Hurricane of Life comes for You —DON’T BE AFRAID!
Head straight towards it and into the Eye where it is calm.
And where the answers are.
It is there waiting for you. It will protect you and keep you safe from harm No matter what.
_____________________________
And in an instant the mysterious darkness called Death took my friends and most of my family.
Surrounding me it came to my door and tried to come in—all I could do was smile straight at it with the love from my soul.
Death decided to come for me some other day.
So here I am.
____________________________________
THE EYE
Peace and beauty is the only way to describe the actual Eye of a Hurricane.
A harmony exists within this storm that is filled with blue skies, birds singing, and soft breezes. It is eery until experienced.
Walking through this “sensation” in Miami I was drawn to it, mesmerized by the surreal circumstances. The beauty of it called my name.
It also helped answer a lot of questions about my own life.
Years later I not only seek PEACE in my life. I demand it.
And now surrounded by a storm. A storm we call Life I seek out the answers within situations and events that could easily sweep us away.
______________________________
DANCING WITH THE LIGHT
Living in Soho, lower Manhattan, mid 70’s my neighbor, Chrissy’s boyfriend, Richard, was a scientist, who started a hobby in his loft developing lasers for parties and dance shows. Most scientists are pretty eccentric and slightly anal which would be a good way to describe Richard.
Overbearing would be another way and I, the curious Aquarian, became part of his staff helping for a while by setting-up the laser and the music.
When it worked the laser show was beyond amazing. It was dancing lights that could easily carry you away. Fueled by a smoke machine the lights created effects few had ever seen.
His experiments helped develop a hand-held laser that shot light through a tube connected to his finger synchronizing it to music.
So we decided to take this great experience on the road.
One winter night in Syracuse the laser-show was center stage for a dance festival in a large indoor arena.
The man became more anal as the night went on. Combined with a long drive and hours of setting-up of this monster machine. His attitude day and night heading into the show became more unbearable with each passing second. By 10 or 11 p.m. I was ready to stick the laser down his throat but instead of doing that I left the arena to head back to Soho.
The only problem was I had no car and there was a blizzard...(oh well) so I stuck my thumb out on the interstate and looked for a way home.
Freezing in the snow with just a light jacket on… I waited and waited.
The alternative was to go back to the dance festival and work with the scientist or hitchhike in a snowstorm. I hitchhiked.
Ice started to form on me, and I really couldn’t see, but I am stubbornly determined. Finally, a car slowed and stopped and a man opened the door and let me in starting off another strange set of events as he kept telling me his problems while we drove towards Manhattan.
I grew up with an assortment of different people in Ewing. The Deaf School was in my front yard. There I played sports of all kinds with the students. We would communicate pretty well with one another other, but when the stress of a play or game set in there would be inaudible yelling and howling. This happened a lot.
The Trenton State Hospital was close to my backyard. I would ride my bike through the grounds in the summer and watch as the inmates walked around. Many were helpless and close to delirium. Use of helpful medications was years away.
In high school, half the class was borderline criminals. Some were clever and never got caught; others didn’t really care and did what ever they wanted to until they were caught.
Years of running into all types allowed me the experience to deal with many situations. Scary encounters can become life threatening quickly so I learned early on that the only way to deal with these situations is by remaining calm, talking slow, and staying alert.
These experiences and mind set have allowed me to walk through harm’s way my entire life.
____________
Driving further into the blizzard I just kept talking with this disturbed individual as best I could. Shivering from the extreme cold and being scared to death didn’t help. His bizarre behavior included constantly pulling off to the side of the road finally coming to a stop on a little road.
Freezing cold and thinking of nothing but surviving and my warm bed I decided to take my chances in the car and wait this guy out - and to not run like I wanted to.
His actions became more and more threatening and I seriously questioned my own decision to leave the dance show, but I stayed with it watching his every move,
He stopped again and slowly got out of the car to, as he said to “stretch his legs.”
I calmly but forcefully told him I had an appointment in the city and needed to move on.
In the mirror, I could see him walking side to side and pacing as if he was deciding something.
At one point he walked to my side of the car, but hesitated in his tracks like something had stopped him and as he came back to the driver’s side and slowly got in he told me I was crazy to hitchhike in a snow storm. Shivering through frozen teeth I nodded in agreement as we drove off finally dropping me near one of the toll bridges leading to the city.
I found another ride, paid the fellow’s toll and slid into Manhattan, and finally into my bed where I slept a peaceful sleep never to see or speak to the scientist guy ever again.
(PHOTO 14 – ‘Hitchhiking’) DANCING IN THE HEAT
In a heartbeat, my roommate and I were off on a trip to Louisiana where, the music festival of the summer (1971), was taking place.
Summers in the South, the days are long and the nights are hot-humid but full of adventure especially on the road.
There is no stopping you when music from dozens of bands brings together thousands of people whose only desire in Life is Peace and Fun—even if it is in the swamps of Louisiana.
At the time I had no idea if my little mini-cooper would make it up the road in the heat or not, but we took off without hesitation from our little studio apartment in South Miami.
Why Not?
Excited and happy to be alive, the highway was our friend, as my roommate and buddy, Alex, who looked like an Indian but wasn’t hit the road.
Alex, who wore silky black hair to his ass and whose dark complexion made all the girls drool completing his persona with excellent guitar playing.
He was good to have around. When a girl couldn’t get near him I was always second best. It worked for me.
He was my first roommate since I put Janis on the plane back to Philly after we spent a year together. We had spent the summer before living and working near the boardwalk of Atlantic City and when I started to head back to school in Florida—Janis announced she was pregnant.
You can’t leave friends behind so after her Doctor’s appointment confirming a child,
I said climb on board and let’s live in Miami.
Miami is hot a lot and can be unfriendly especially if you don’t have a plan or connections. After sitting around for months and watching as I went off to school every day and being unable to fit in Janis announces she is not pregnant which meant I was in a relationship with a liar.
We put together the little money we had and set out for the airport. After a tearful good-bye and talk of dreams of being together some other day, she left.
Enter Alex, my new roommate, hopefully an honest person who can pay rent. He began teaching me how to be single again, so I grew my hair long and started smiling...once more...happy to be alive!
As we made the trip up the Florida coast, Alex played the guitar while we sang and smiled and dreamt of the weekend ahead.
But that day in July the highway would not be our friend and in the loneliest spot of I-95 the mini made noises with lots of heavy clanking and our little dream of music and fun stopped on the side of the road and sat in a heap—200 miles from home. And nowhere.
With no one around to help, we caught a ride and a tow ending up in Melrose, Fla., which consisted at that time of a gas station, diner, and a six-room hotel. Period.
Hot, tired, and bored are the only emotions I remember of that time for they surrounded me quickly. The pain of missing a fun Music Festival added fuel to the fire.
Parts and mechanic miracles were nowhere to be found as we sat for a day in Melrose with barely enough money to afford a room or food.
Our glee anticipating fun and music turned into the painful reality of small town abandonment.
With no prospects of help for the mini for at least a week are options slimmed to hitchhiking to the festival or heading back to Miami with a ride we found out of the blue. As Alex made his decision to go back home my mind was stuck on the PRIZE a weekend of music with dozens of top music artists, booze, drugs and new friends to play with.
Home and Miami would always be there...so I stuck out my thumb and let luck guide my descent up through Florida and across the Panhandle. Finding a way to the land of night and day rock ‘n’ roll.
I don’t remember a lot about the rides I got on that trip, but I do remember getting small rides near Jacksonville every 10 miles or so and the power of thunderstorms that came upon me each time I would leave a car and start hitchhiking again—a dark cloud was literally following me.
This happened all afternoon on Friday and as I started to doubt my sanity and decision to leave the comfort of my little house in South Miami things got worse as the last ride of the evening dropped me somewhere in the middle of the Northern Panhandle.
Getting out of the vehicle that night around mid-night I couldn't help but to notice a time warp around me consisting of allot of people with crew cuts, pick-up trucks and Northern Southern accents yelling and drinking in the small town I had landed in.
My escape out of reality and the time frame of the ’60s started with bell-bottoms, long hair and rock n roll. As I stood there on the road this look stood out quite distinctly and it must have seemed like a circus clown had just entered town.
The 20 to 30 cars that went by me without slowing down now turned into 1 every 30 minutes or so to add to this bizarre drama the recent release of Easy Rider, the movie, played vividly in my head as I saw myself laying in the bushes somewhere dead and beaten.
Wasn’t Louisiana also the goal in Easy Rider?
When the clock struck 2 a.m. all hope seemed to have vanished, as I stood alone on the dark road valiantly keeping my thumb raised in the air.
A few more cars passed but there was no hope in sight.
Then a few minutes later a small sedan crept slowly by stopping 30 feet past me. I prayed it would take me somewhere, anywhere but the small southern town I was in.
When the door slowly opened people stuck their heads out and smiled. I hazily looked through the darkened car as the driver asked me if I was going to the Louisiana Music Festival and before I could reply I noticed that half the people looked familiar.
My neighbors from across the street in Miami were driving to Louisiana and to the festival.
Did I want a ride?
I smiled and asked, “Why not?” and got in.
We partied and danced in the heat of the swamp all weekend long as the best and craziest bands of the day found their way to us in the glaze of the Louisiana heat.
The heat so bad during the day was beyond sweltering. Surviving in a tent one day I vividly remember visiting with a friend sitting, sweating and stoned from some hash we had just bought.
Sitting there laughing and enjoying the high and buzz we had on a black limousine pulls closer to our area when the door opens a little lady somewhat gray and very conservative gets out and without hesitation asks if she could join us. We must have been a sight covered in dirt and sweating for days.
It was somewhat odd and very amusing to see a normal lady asking politely if she could sit with us.
As it turns out the lady wanted to visit our generation and to see what we were like especially at a music festival. The governor’s wife sat with us the rest of the afternoon smoking hash and taking it all in trying to figure out why people would sit in 100 degree heat to enjoy music.
It think after the third “bowel” she started to understand.
My friend and I just sat there laughing the whole way through it.
_______________________
The neighbors who rescued me from the middle of nowhere took us back to Miami later that week after we stopped in New Orleans to party some more.
I was safe as a bug all the time.
Footnote: The perfect song of that time is “White Bird” by A Beautiful Day. If you have the chance, take a listen.
___________________________________
DANCING WITH HURRICANES
You never know when friends will appear and a new party will begin.
College (1971 to1972) was more than a party. Vietnam, Woodstock, and Kent State had ignited our nation, woke people up, and drove us towards an unknown destiny.
Riding this new wave towards freedom meant something different to each
of us.
Men and Women everywhere suddenly became one and in a unique way a very large nation somehow connected. One person at a time.
This new wave of life was beyond exciting! It was an adventure that burned to
the core of our being and gave us a reason to get up in the morning.
This burning desire to do something right in the world made us all feel almost invincible and ready to take on the world. Fear was replaced with absolute optimism.
As you might imagine parties were created at a drop of a dime. That's how my New Orleans Madras Gras began. Six people turned into nine, a few more joined in and over time twelve or thirteen of us headed north in a mini-caravan towards the big party on Bourbon Street.
It didn’t hurt to have Pam along whose Mom had a place in the suburbs with a crash pad including pool, sauna, and food.
All was well with the trip through Florida and into Louisiana. All was well with our
pad (a hidden pool house) off the main house. All was well with the first night of
playing on the streets of New Orleans and a plan to met up at 2 a.m. on the corner
in town.
So off I went in my Aquarius way of adventure partying and visiting with the locals.
But a funny thing happened in the early hours when I returned to the destination corner
for pick-up and return. There was nobody there.
Waiting for a half hour or so wondering what had happened to my buddies from Miami.
I decided to do the next best thing, go drinking. This is when I found the drink that made New Orleans famous—the Hurricane.
With only a few dollars in my pocket (my loot was hidden in the pad) I quickly
visited some bars and found comfort with the cheapest one that had music and didn't charge a cover.
I didn’t know if I was killing time or prolonging my few precious dollars so I did the next best thing and find a girl who was as drunk as I was and head to the dance floor.
Almost immediately a fight broke out which ended quickly as the low-lives were sent packing and back on the street after a few words and some pushing while not skipping a beat to the music.
One thing leads to another and my drunken friend leads me down the street to her
place deep in the heart of New Orleans where we passed out in each other’s arms –
with our heads spinning sideways.
The sun must have been up for hours but I wasn’t moving. Too drunk to move, too drunk to care, I didn’t know where I was and it didn’t really matter. The air surrounding me smelled stale and heavy with cheap perfume. Oh well, I was safe!
That was until the door opened violently and I heard the sound of men and felt the force of the bed shaking.
From somewhere a voice boomed...“What are you doing in bed with me wife?”
Somehow looking up through my one eye I winced when I saw the form of two very large Black Men standing near the foot of the bed.
I didn’t know she was married I thought, as the two Men started to take their rage out on the girl sleeping next to me.
My left eye started working as I noticed we had no clothes on. I meekly got out of bed and swiftly put on clothes which were tangled in hers trying not to look in the direction of the voices. A quick glance towards them however made me move even faster.
And with the safety of angels on my shoulder, I pretended I was invisible and meekly walked out of the room, down the stairs and into the street.
___________________________________________
ONE WAY TO MEXICO
Prior to being a husband and a father and becoming serious in the world (I was a hold out until age 34), there was Freedom, Friends, and lots of Fun!
One particular outing consisted of six of us renting a house in Rosarito Beach, Mexico.
--------------------------------------
In the summer of ’82, I was dating the girl before Wendy, Betsy from Iowa.
She lived with her sister, Kelly, at the beach (SD) and those two loved to cook and drink beer. They also loved life and laughed a lot.
One dish they prepared exceptionally well was Abalone. This creature could be found clinging to the rocks under the ocean floor. Friends of theirs were divers who went out at dawn to find this delicacy, carve it off the ocean floor, and bring it back to the mainland.
Anytime the girls put this dish together we were there.
Abalone is an art form to prepare and as we played volleyball next to their apartment building you could here the pounding as they tenderized each fillet. It takes easily an hour to form and season this meal.
Playing in the sand next to the ocean creates an amazing appetite. By the time dinner was ready all of us just about crawled to the kitchen following the aroma as if in a dream.
Each bite takes you a little closer to heaven and as the swig of beer chased down the breadcrumbs we would watch the sunset and laugh some more.
Neighbors and friends enjoying life where our backyard was the ocean.
As her reward for these efforts I invited Betsy to Mexico and we embarked on a weekend trip to the beaches of Rosarito.
And so we partied hardy and met friends just south of TJ where the roads meet nowhere and the ocean joins with the houses. The town close to the area where they shot the movie “Titanic.”
A quite and calm community where retires ponder nothing and the air is calm and the sun is your friend–day in and day out.
This was the rental. Where we could swim all day – drink all night and consume nothing but fun and a new tan for tomorrow,
It was a mini-vacation we had all deserved.
After the first night, Doug, a neighbor from OB and I went on a fact finding mission around the area. Our real pursuit was good booze and lobsters and after several stops and many drinks later we located a restaurant that cooked the small but succulent Rock Lobsters and consumed many. With that behind us, we found our travel group, picked them up, and took them back to our new friends for more lobsters and drinks laughing our way into the wee hours of the morning.
------------------------------------
At around noon my eyes opened slowly. It startled me that I was not in my bed in OB -
but somewhere else indeed. Looking over I noticed a blonde girl crumpled in the white sheets and remembered I had taken Betsy with me –where was it – oh yeh – Mexico.
At that point the sun shot through our little curtains in the room and with the temperature hitting me at the same time my mind told me it was time to hit the surf—the day was a wasting!
During this point in my life I was probably in the best shape I had ever been in.
My daily routine was rowing on Mission Bay at 6 a.m., work out at the gym till 9 a.m., a job, drink beers with friends, or go on a date, and start it all over again. 1
Hitting the waves of Mexico reminded me of New Jersey and the many times we would body-surf for hours and sleep on the beach during the day.
Mexico was a lot like that but the beaches are shorter and the waves unpredictable, strong and prone to undertow. OH WELL! I body-surfed for hours regardless.
By 3 p.m. the tide had shifted but my body was not tired and the girls on the beach got cuter so before I headed to shore to meet them, I took ONE last ride.
A small, shallow run that would easily put me up on the beach next to them.
The ride was short but the wave decided to beat me that day and took me for a ride I still remember with pain to this day.
Luckily my arms were up in the Superman position. The force of the ride crashed me with ultimate power and slammed me into two inches of sand and with no time to react my right arm twisted and snapped back all in a helpless split second.
The girls looking at me asked why I was white as a sheet. At the same moment I felt my body tremble and the thought of what might have been shot through my subconscious.
The impact could easily have been my neck.
------------------------------------
A number of surf beauties surrounded me as I sat on the beach speechless. Why me?
I thought. Stuck in Mexico with a broken arm...not the Vacation I envisioned!
With pain racing to my brain and the swelling of my arm meeting each other somewhere in the middle I asked Betsy to gather our things.
I found out what a bimbo she was over the next few hours as we left our little paradise rental and ambled our way to the U.S.A. and real doctors.
There was no way I was going to let the doctors or cheap medicines in this village treat me, USA was my only thought. Betsy’s only thought was how to drive a stick-shift Mustang.
She never did ever figure it out!
With a right arm paralyzed and swelling from the accident I was helpless to navigate the roads.
My only HOPE was her. I was in trouble.
The normal 90-minute trip took FOREVER as Betsy stalled, slipped gears and panicked every foot of the journey.
My arm felt like a deranged football and was swelling by the minute. I needed medical care immediately. When we hit the border another half hour was lost waiting to be allowed through.
Betsy somehow guided us into San Diego and to the Kaiser Hospital emergency area. I stumbled out of the car, fell, and kissed the dirt.
Two months of codeine and a sling brought me back to reality..
P.S. I still managed to attend the ’84 Padres post-season games (3 at home) where they beat the lowly Cubs advancing them to the World Series vs. Detroit. And with some corporate contacts I was allowed to witness my only World Series–behind Home plate. Codeine in one hand–beer in the other.
End of PART THREE
‘TALES OF A SUBURBAN GYPSY’
JHENSEL

Friday, December 26, 2008

Local Author Spotlight: JOHN HENSEL

TALES OF A SUBURBAN GYPSY
A Story of Finding LOVE
__________________________

Part Two
This book is dedicated to all the People (angels) who took the time to help me along my PATH.
Thanks for your Faith in me and the Laughs we had along the way.
_______________________________
From: Notes to my Son
A TIMELINE TOWARDS DESTINY!
___________________________
SURVIVING is easy...
It’s LIVING that’s Hard!
___________________________
THE JOURNEY BEGINS
A bit of advice given to a young Native American at the time of
his initiation:
“As you go the way of life you will see a great chasm.”
JUMP! … “It’s not as wide as you think."
—Joseph Campbell _____________________________
JAMAICA
NEW YEAR’S In PARADISE (1972–1973)
(or looking for Marley)
Winters in Miami and the south are different from the traditional winters I grew up with on the east coast of New Jersey with blown snow, ice, and bundles of clothes.
I moved to Miami for the warmth and beauty of the land where you could swim and tan all winter and wear shorts in February.
1972 was no different in Miami as I sat out on my sunny porch overlooking heavily laden grapefruit and palm trees that surrounded the two acres I rented with roommates near Parrot’s Jungle.
Located near the southern end of S.W. Miami the little house was hidden away from the hustle and bustle of a nearby highway.
Leading you up to the small house was a giant circular driveway. You had the impression that my roommates and I lived in a mansion based on the driveway alone, but it was only a glamorous shack with a few bedrooms, kitchen, and bath. The acreage gave us peace—front and back surrounded by complete privacy.
What I loved about our driveway was the approach. You could hear and see all vehicles as they came up.
You either welcomed them or send them back down depending upon who they were or how you felt that day.
Sitting quietly I could hear the sound of a number of parrots that had just escaped their cages and were now free to roam the trees and bushes of our neighborhood.
Freedom is precious to me and I thought of mine sitting there in the sun daydreaming of an upcoming trip a number of friends had recently put together.
A fantasy week-long vacation spent over New Year’s celebrating the holiday on the island of Jamaica, the heart of the Caribbean.
I pinched myself to remind me of the current date....
Dec. 28, 1972. A smile crept on my face as I kept thinking of the trip with my crazy friends to a mysterious and beautiful island where none of us had ever been to before.
Adding to the intrigue was the movie “The Harder they Come” starring Jimmy Cliff.
If you haven’t seen it—it vividly portrays a musician who battles through the streets of Kingston, gang lords, and busted music deals (two or three people were killed during the actual filming).
Virtually a prisoner in paradise Cliff's plan is to sing his way to stardom and eventual freedom which he almost does but is framed for murder, dying on a jetty in Kingston while his hit song plays softly in the background.
The film’s story and music left a haunting image further fueling my fascination with the island.
From Miami—Jamaica is very close (60 miles) yet an ocean apart. A world and culture so very different from ours, it can’t be explained and one that has to be experienced to comprehend.
I was more than ready to soak in the Jamaican lifestyle but was snapped back to reality with the thoughts of the many things that had to transpire before I could jump on a plane and escape for my week of fun—( 9 men/3 crazy women—Look out, Kingston...good-bye, Miami.)
But not just yet!
Paradise was a day away. A VERY LONG day away…
My job in the 70’s was producing concerts, events, plays, et cetera for the promoters of the day and there was a Holiday music festival today at the Miami Speedway—as usual I was right in the middle of it.
This festival was billed bigger and better than all of them. A vacation would be well-earned, to say the least.
-----------------------
I dropped out of college in the early 70’s to work with a small band of people that ran a concert company out of Coconut Grove backed by Jerry Powers, the mad genius who invented “The Daily Planet,” Miami’s answer to underground newspapers, and his way to take on the system, make money and get laid—in whatever order.
Jerry’s picture has to be next to the word “slime ball” in Webster’s—for he was one of the lowest and conversely one of the best business people I have ever met.
The entertainment industry has to be the most fearless business there is and Jerry personally knew most of the players in rock‘n’roll during this time.
I love music, especially when it is live and spontaneous. To be able to work side by side with the stars of this era made me feel like a child in a candy store.
This love inspired me to excel in the profession and to work even harder for each show.
For three years we produced concerts almost weekly. Jerry handled the money—I produced the shows and smoothed over all the rough spots.
We made it all work. Producing everyone and anyone missing only the Beatles, Clapton, and The Dead.
If it went through Miami, it went through our company. Events surrounding these days are priceless and some will be told later....


-------------
THE FESTIVAL
The December ’72 Holiday Show was packed with intensity – the event produced as a 12-hour all- day Festival included some of the very best. Many thought it was a dream billing which included The Allman Brothers, Santana, Johnny Winter, Bonnie Rait, ZZ Topp, Rod Stewart, John Machlunin and many more…Powers was hired by Howard Stein’s N.Y. staff to run the ticket sales, advertising, lights, sound and stage construction.
What made this show different from most of the regular concerts was the number of bands (12) and the location, a first for the Miami Speedway.
The intensity level of the event was on high and escalated by Stein’s presence, his first show in the area. If this event were a success his group would bring in more shows to the area, which meant more work for all of us.
If you don't know the name Howard Stein then you didn't go to a concert in the 70's. He was one of the top promoters in the US and only behind Bill Graham in stature.
On any given weekend both companies could easily produce a multiple of shows simultaneously.
Graham's claim to fame was the Fillmore East (NYC) & West (SF).
Stein turned the concert business into a conglomerate and was a symbol for this new and growing industry. At one point, Howard was shown in Time Magazine pictured with his vintage '50's Silver Shadow RR bought with pocket change for $25K., an amazingly high price for the time.
With these kinds of egos involved I stayed in the background as much as possible. His office ate people in business for lunch. To them I was hired help and there to assist only on specific jobs for the show. Normally the entire scope of each show revolved around our small staff.
The Holiday Festival was designed to hold 30,000 to 100,000 people. Our advertising was produced and ticket sales began. We promoted to all markets especially the college crowd who were vacationing in the sun, hopefully our Sun!
Perhaps thinking they might be able to produce a mini-Woodstock in Miami, Jerry and Howard geared up like we were...I handled my jobs checking and double-checking everything.
You have to work with back-up plans to handle any possible situation. My role was equal to a rock ‘n’ roll “Sgt. Bilko” for in the world of live entertainment you have to pull off small miracles so the show can go on.
Just about every week we produced a live concert—90 percent went over well.
Some did not.
The Pink Floyd show at the Sporatorium in the summer of ’73 was more than a disaster.
Most groups arrive the night before a concert and begin setting up early to work out all the kinks by early afternoon.
The Pink Floyd show was different. The technician’s that handled the band were truly wizards of the day. They mastered all facets of life on the road so we were more than shocked when the lead roadie came to us around 1 p.m. to notify our crew that the entire truck with all the stage equipment was stuck somewhere on the highway.
With precious little time for error our company sprung into action. We began finding rental trucks that were close enough for transport. By 3 p.m., we zoomed to the breakdown with a caravan of five rental trucks and lots of men to help.
By 5 p.m. the stage was full of the band’s equipment, which we had loaded and unloaded by hand. At 7 p.m., power was booted up, but all you could hear was a loud hum throughout the system.
By 8 p.m., the stadium was packed and somehow the opening act played but through an undercurrent of humming. At 10 p.m., things didn’t get any better and the promoters asked me to tell the crowd we would have to refund their money.
I gulped and then somehow turned to the mike with the news and was instantly hit with many objects.
In Tampa the next night, the Pink Floyd crew called to apologize. It seemed the overall problem stemmed from one little connection they had missed the night before.
Miami was not a big town then, and you got to know all of the vendors real well. We rented pianos, organs, sound and light equipment, and hired caterers, piano tuners, security guards, stage personnel, and dozens of people who had to be available around-the-clock.
Talking with a vendor at 1 a.m. about a situation for the next day was normal for the business.
Contingencies for each show depended on the group’s “Rider Contract.” This spelled out the specific special needs for each group that played.
For instance the Festival had to provide transportation to and from an isolated area (Miami Speedway) so we decided to find a helicopter that could get the groups in and out quickly and that was large enough to transport ten to fifteen people comfortably.
The problem was that the old army chopper was retired and from the early ’60s it moved no faster than 25 m.p.h. (top speed) was barren and uncomfortable, but somehow the plan worked. We had 24-hour access with dedicated clearheaded pilots that knew our game plan—and back and forth we went from the airport to the speedway—all day/all night—taking off from each site every 30 minutes.
Leading up to the show both of the camps got bitcher and bitcher. From the beginning Jerry’s flamboyant style got him in trouble. He was talking to the media as if we had a South Florida “Woodstock” brewing which created high expectations from everyone including Howard’s group, N.Y. talent agents, and the musicians.
------------
Ever since the original Woodstock in ’69 any large concert gathering across the country created excitement and was looked at as another special event, which really could never be duplicated.
Woodstock was a magic moment in history, a spontaneous event packed with talent similar to our show that exploded and expanded in scope when groups kept appearing out of nowhere with people coming out of the woods creating a historical once-in-a-lifetime celebration of 500,000-plus people.
The thought of hundreds of people losing it on LSD, massive injuries, rain/mud, babies being born, and general mayhem over three days made me shudder. (Did I mention rain and mud?)
But The Holiday Show did have a real chance for something special to happen.
We brought major headliners that combined good ol’ boy Southern Rock like The Allman Bros, Lynard Skynard and Johnny Winter with newer eastern rock including John Mclaughlin and his Marvesison Orchestra with the jazz/rock of Miles Davis and more totaling twelve acts in twelve hours.
Each group had good airplay and a unique following of fans that we hoped were listening to our ads and media blitz.
Getting closer to the date ticket sales stayed extremely soft creating further tension from all business entities. In the concert business, you could easily make or lose hundreds of thousands of dollars because of a miscalculation.
By now I was in “Survival Mode” and thinking of Jamaica and the “escape” to paradise helped me remain focused as The Show moved along with a lightning intensity.
One of my other positions was coordinating pre-ticket sales for each event. I was a human Ticket-Tron at the time with outlets in twelve to fifteen stores along the southern beaches.
From Palm Beach to the Grove, each store was handpicked to sell directly to its customer base. Record stores, hair salons, T-shirt shops. I knew the owners. They knew my schedule and our money was always on point. There was no room for error as I would carry $10,000 per trip leading up to a strong weekend of music.
The loyal staff we hired was always in place and basically consisted of college friends who loved music and the life of backstage work.
Each concert offered its own flavor and a sideshow of its own. Our crew was right in the middle of everything working side-by-side through each challenge leading up to the band finally walking on stage and performing and ended with the last suitcase thrown on the back of their truck and a few beers or shots before all said good-bye hitting the road for the next town.
Most groups embraced us when they hit Miami.
We provided them a “road-home” and were their support and help on the long, long road of seemingly endless concert dates.
__________________
Despite all the hype, lack of sales, short tempers, and bitterness of the bosses (the promoters), the show must go on and the ’72 Holiday Festival did just that.
With the support of two companies working together I only worked with a few assignments. One was hiring the stage crew and security; the other was to make sure each group got to the Speedway via the copter.
Group after group they came and went and early in the day things went easy.
A small but fun-loving crowd in the day hours relaxed in the sun taking in John MacCaughling, Lynard Skynard, and Poco who all showed up as scheduled and were treated like gold and then were gone.
The great thing about my job was the flexibility it gave me to mingle with friends in the crowd so I could enjoy a song or two then go back to work for awhile.
Throughout the day and into the evening I worked with this routine while getting updates from the promoters on sales while still enjoying the music that lead us into a balmy Florida evening.
_________
Women were always around at concerts and made themselves available.
To restrain myself and to stay focused on my responsibilities was sometimes difficult.
This show was more difficult because I had time on my hands. In-between groups a few girls became acquainted with me obviously so they could get a better view of the show, meet the groups, or whatever.
It doesn’t really matter sometimes and a coed visiting from school (Boston?) treated me very nicely backstage and from that point we hung-out for the rest of the night.
Waiting until almost the last group, The Allman Brothers, I plotted my final escape.
The plan was to get home, rest for a bit, and to get out of Dodge for my dream vacation.
With the coed in tow I boarded a flight to Miami riding with a very stoned Johnny and Edgar Winter Band (the Albino brothers of blues) and headed south in the chopper.
Somehow I got us to my little house in South Miami passing out on my sacred waterbed.

_____________________________
JAMAICA
There is nothing normal about my life so why would a simple trip to an island be any different.
Waking up after the show I found the pretty coed masturbating over my beat-up and drugged body. I had just worked the last two weeks on the show and back-to-back sixteen to eighteen hour days. Gazing at her with one-eye shut I was stimulated but dead to the world not knowing if I should join her or go back to sleep.
The part of me that knew I would probably never see her again decided to give her a morning send-off she would not soon forget and laying there I whispered in her ear that when it was over she needed to be dressed and in the car in five minutes or less.
We raced back to the Speedway hoping to find her friends who she was meeting up with to go back home.
I then sped to my office to pick-up and cash a check but the hours and minutes were not on my side. Time was growing very short. I had to park, run through the airport, and catch the flight that I thought my friends were on.
I was hoping beyond hope that my buddy, Tina, our devoted secretary, would be sitting pretty as always with my check in hand from the show.
Tina Dupree was the heart of our operation always calming us and giving words of wisdom to whomever would listen. Words of advice that often soothe me even to this day.
Tina was at her desk waiting for me. She knew my schedule better than I did. She pointed to Jerry who was in the office early working on the next paper deadline. Last night’s show was now an after-thought and he was moving on to the next project.
I was far from thinking of work at this point and his delay accelerated my heart. He insisted I fix something in his office before I could pick up my check.
As my heart beat faster I somehow kept it together and did his little assignment (change a lock), sped off in my car, and reached the airport already late for the flight.
By now running on fumes and instincts alone, I asked if the flight could be held for a few minutes and raced breathlessly towards the gate.
The biggest sigh of relief came over me as I boarded the plane and saw all of my travel friends smiling at me—beaming and wondering how I had made the plane which was moments away from taking off.
When I was finally able to take my seat my body collapsed and I feel asleep with a smile.
Sleep didn’t last long as I felt the deep descent of the plane and woke up wondering where I was. I felt victorious and finally free as I looked out the window and saw our prize just below us.
First thinking it was fog I blinked again and saw picturesque puffy clouds part. That’s when I got my first look at the island. For miles all I could see was a deep green surrounded by the rich color of the blue ocean around the island.
Everywhere I looked seemed magical. A hypnotic lure drew our plane closer and closer.
Landing in Jamaica was exciting. We all felt free and alive. The island took on a new life as we touched our feet to the ground.
The airport there sobered our enthusiasm and this trip took on a very surreal quality.
Standing there it seemed we were the only white people left in the world.
________________
The Island run by the British at this time trained the local Jamaican police. With guns in hand they went through our bags one by one expecting to find drugs, body parts, or whatever for they shuck us down and frisked us thoroughly. I really didn’t care though still reeling and exhausted from last night—the concert and the girl made me tired, relaxed, and invigorated all at once.
Our group of young travelers stood out in Jamaica and it didn’t help that I was with two well- tanned blonde ladies and nine long-haired males. We decided to try and escape police reality by telling the girls to keep flirting with any threatening law officials so we could move onwards with our trip.
I firmly believe that a smart, blonde lady could easily rule the world. The island police were caught off-guard as the girls smiles turned them speechless. Any thoughts of hassling us vanished and we quickly left the heat and the commotion of the crowded city behind.
_________________
Negril - 1972
The next destination was a little village called Negril. Present day it is packed with condos, 5-star resorts and high priced Tiki bars. In ’72, it was a very low-key beach with a few hotels/motels, ocean-view bars, and houses that looked like huts nestled into the rich landscape.
Our spot for a day would be in the home of a beautiful Jamaican family. They opened their doors to us with a smile welcoming one and all to sit, relax, eat, and sleep for as long as we liked.
I don’t know who planned our trip, but my travel buddies were not dumb. Most of them were in the final years of college some studying for their law degrees and a few finalizing their medical studies.
This was a lifetime away from reality and traveling for maybe their last days of freedom and responsibilities that would forever change their lives. So they came and they played and experienced a week on the island that no one would ever forget.
The Jamaican family we stayed with showed us Caribbean hospitality at its best.
The Jamaican smile is contagious for when you feel the warmth radiating through you it somehow touches your heart making you feel whole and happy all over.
The sincerity of the people is somehow transferred to their food. We were offered dishes that looked simple but tasted amazing, filled with exotic flavors accented by fruit and spices fresh from the island.
If you ever dreamed a dream and went to a place that was perfect and untouched by progress, it would have to be Negril in 1972. This Caribbean village was as close to paradise as I have ever been.
The soft breezes, blue skies, and crystal-blue water going out past the tide forever hypnotizes you and makes you feel whole and human again.
During the day, I sat at a small tiki bar taking in the warmth of the area and let the salt air heal my soul. Gazing out over the ocean and the beauty around me I only got up when I felt the urge and would wade out into the water sometimes going a half-mile before it got to the top of my shorts.
Evenings were gentle and quiet and soft breezes came and kissed me to sleep as I tucked myself into a clean Jamaican bed. Falling asleep I listened to the crickets and night birds as they whispered to one another throughout the night.
When morning came our group begrudgingly got up and split into three different parties heading to separate destinations and agendas on the island.
My group consisted of Stan, Bill, and Joe. We traveled back to Kingston to rent a car for further fun and adventure. That’s when the trip started to turn into the Jimmy Cliff movie.
We no sooner got into town when a street person befriended us and offered us “ganja” cheap. Cheap was five dollars for a “splive” about as big and fat as the largest cigar you have ever seen.
Everything looked fine except we had to trust him and follow him to a hut somewhere through town and the heart of the ghetto.
One of the gifts I have in life is great instincts about people and the events around me.
My instincts kept me from death a year earlier in a hotel room outside of New Orleans where I ended up in the bed of a pretty lady who let me stay the night only to find out her husband and friend were Big, Black, and very Bad (see below “Dancing with Hurricanes”). They helped me to navigate through a number of hurricanes and many fights and to avoid fights throughout my life.
The instinct radar of trouble was off and we calmly followed our new friend who took us safely through the poorest sections of Kingston into a hut/house where another smiling native welcomed us and asked to us relax and have a seat, which in this abode was the floor.
As our host came back into the room he kept smiling carrying with him the biggest joint I had ever seen in my life. Its cost was just five dollars.
He said we could leave, stay, or smoke. We were welcome to do what we wanted…SO WE LIT UP!
Including our host and street friend there were four of us. We were determined to not take any ganja with us so we smoked and smoked and then smoked some more.
I lost my sight, my hearing, and my balance that day, but we smoked some more and when we were done we somehow staggered our way through the maze of huts miraculously finding the streets of Kingston once again.
At that moment, I noticed the people around me. They all seemed very nice. Many begged for money or hawked goods and most just enjoyed hanging out and being human. Some would walk with us always smiling with a glaze of happiness on their faces. Maybe it was just me, but it seemed like the majority of them were really stoned and just enjoying life.
I somehow understood that this is how they lived every day in Jamaica.
It was also an instant of clarity and the language of the island made sense to me as I started to understand accents and sentences better.
Prior to that I couldn’t understand what people were saying. Their dialect did not make much sense. Everything they said sounded like French or a Pig Latin English of some kind.
From that moment on, communication was not a problem. Everything was cool—“MON.”
______________________
Working in the concert world sounds glamorous and it is, but my part was hard work—long hours and the promoters low-balled me whenever they could.
My weeklong trip to the island consisted of about $200 in spending money so a group trip helped the budget greatly. We all put together funds for food, housing, and vehicles. It was imperative to rent a car.
Walking down the Kingston street giggling we ran into our buddies who had already secured our rental for the week and when they saw us they laughed long and hard for they knew where we had been and with that we took off on our island adventure.
_____________________________________
I grew up riding the highways of adventure. High School nights in Ewing meant riding all night with my buddies Paul, Kim, Danny, Ralph, and sometimes Mike and Billy. We would chip in and cop cheap grass at McDees, go up and down Gravity Hill or cruise through Washington Crossing Park in the pitch black of night.
Mike and Kim were so proficient with the hills and brakes that they would speed up and down the Crossing at 50 to 70 m.p.h. timing the end of the descent and braking at the very last minute in front of a huge oak tree. Even though I knew each time where we were heading, life passed in front of me freezing me in fear knowing I was going to die on impact.
I remember laughing and screaming a lot.
_____________________________________
For me Jamaica was another exciting road trip. My friends let us know me they had also copped weed and produced a huge bag of it, which we promptly lit up on the road.
The first lesson in traveling is to never, ever let the navigator read the travel map when stoned. Since we were all stoned including Bill the driver, we hopped around the roads of the island laughing and giggling hoping that we were going in the right direction.
We were not.
It must have been the map or the stoned map readers (us) but when we left small villages and huts the road turned into dense jungle-like vegetation, but still contained a road of some sort. We kept going. Only the road kept getting smaller and smaller and when the jungle started to swallow us we finally
ran out of road and almost drove into a small creek sitting where the road should have been based upon this Jamaican map that the rental place gave us.
The map said GO - the road said NO. We looked at each other sheepishly with disbelief.
The map showed the road that we thought we were on cutting through the middle of the island (60 mile long). This road ended somewhere in the jungle with no civilization in sight.
Slowly we back-tracked which meant driving in reverse for awhile where we found the answer to our problem making a zig instead of a zag which wasn't on the map and drove towards our destination - the half-way point up the mountain.
Seeing a fort in the distance meant our halfway point was close and as we got closer to the fort it looked inviting and friendly.
We lit up another joint to enjoy the view of our surroundings.
Our little world stopped with a shudder as we noticed dozens of Jamaican soldiers carrying rifles, machine-guns and machetes securing the fort.
You have never seen four white long-haired men move so fast in your life as we tried to be cool and lose the joint we were smoking and hide the bag we were carrying while approaching soldiers with guns who happened to notice us ALL in the same moment.
In the past I have gotten out of a lot of danger by looking my enemy in the face and smiling. In 1972, I was very non-violent and anyone with a gun reminded me of death and dying. I was too scared to cry so I did the next best thing and decided to smile and wave telling my friends to do the same.
If the fort police thought we were any threat this vanished when they saw four crazed tourists driving a beat-up rental car smiling and waving at them.
I was born in the historic town of Trenton where George W. and his crew surprised and overtook the Hessians after a famous crossing over the Delaware River one Christmas morning.
Loving history and the people that changed our world with their deeds was an important part of how I grew up.
Our house in Ewing was decorated in mahogany and dark woods of the period accented with peacocks and people riding on horses. There was a replica flintlock over the fireplace reminding our family of an old letter my Aunt Margaret found which traced my mother’s side of the family directly to the explorer, Daniel Boone. I am supposed to be a cousin, which I guess has helped because I never get lost once I find my destination (as long as there is a gas station to point me in the right direction). I traveled a lot of the U.S. and Canada this way.
My grandmother, Nana, lived alone in Washington, D.C., a widow for years who became my second mom. She often took me down into the heart of the city showing me her world and taking me everywhere in town.
I got to know D.C. like the back of my hand falling in love with and respecting our nation through her eyes.
So naturally my first instinct was to stop and explore this Jamaican Fort and to find out its significance through the local natives, but we did the right thing at that moment...we quickly drove away.
___________________________
My head was still spinning when we finally got away from the fort on the mountain and the wheels in my brain began to fall back into place as the true reality of our surroundings started to make sense once again. I was Free—away from machine gun carrying soldiers and in Jamaica looking for a place called Paradise.
The jungle surrounding our rental parted soon and all I remember going down the mountain was the beauty of the sky in a forever-deep blue. Coconut, grapefruit, and palm trees sprung up everywhere. The temperature of the air was perfect.
I noticed another smell other than the aroma of gunja that was in our rental. I looked out the window and took a deep breath of salt air. The deep blue of the ocean appeared in the near distance and my heart felt more alive by the second. Our next destination was nestled somewhere between Negril and Alligator Bay.
Paradise lay dead ahead as I saw the Welcome to the Long Bay Motel sign that beckoned us to pull in.
Instead of traveling around the island we cut through the middle to reach the other side, which landed us half way up the coast in a small village where the motel lay.
Once there the rhythm of Jamaica found me (once again) and I was at peace just like I was in Negril. The owners, chefs and workers at the motel named after the town embraced us like family—welcoming us with smiles, laughs, drinks, food, and shelter for as long as we liked which unfortunately was just the one night, but it was a day and night as close to heaven as I have ever been.
For $20 each per day we could eat and swim to our hearts content. Together we shared a cottage just a few yards from the beach. We talked and laughed all night with our hosts and I don't remember falling asleep. All I remember is the sound of the ocean and the smell of the air softly putting me into coma of island contentment.
The next morning I awoke feeling refreshed and eager for an island adventure.
A picture of a Jamaican brochure came to mind! It showed a man and woman happily riding horses next to the waves on the beach.
So I inquired with our hosts at the beach motel to see if riding like this was possible. They said “anything was possible in Long Bay” and pointed to a hut next to the beach.
My hopes of adventure were high as I bounded over to it, excited to see the horse I would ride.
An older Jamaican man came out and pointed to a beat up sign that offered rides - $3 for 30 minutes on the beach. He proudly pointed to the stable consisting of two flea-bitten donkeys champing on hay, oblivious to life. The man said they were very friendly and would take me for a nice ride on the beach.
I shrugged and mounted the one closer to me and headed for the beach entrance just a few yards away.
Wearing cutoffs and no shirt with my long blonde hair flying in the breeze must have been a sight that day. I was sure I wasn’t going to be picked as the photo child for next year’s travel brochure, but it was fun from my perspective.
The only problem was the donkey had other plans and kept trying to go in the opposite direction from where I was leading him.
When he walked down the beach he had two speeds, Slow and Very slow. It took forever and a day to get near the ocean.
Near us I saw a family outside of their little cottage hanging laundry. So did the donkey.
Now my bitter enemy in life.
Nothing phased this beast and with me yelling and kicking his sides he calmly walked to the small yard and wrapped himself up in the lady’s laundry including the line she used.
Each step the donkey took made things worse.
If there was any peace in Long Bay that day it ended when the lady of the house started swinging her broom yelling and screaming at the donkey and me defending her prized whites. Jumping down off the beast I somehow tugged, pulled, and dragged him out of harm’s way apologizing and swearing in the same breath.
Finally, I pulled the donkey out to the beach and ran back to its owner asking him go get fetch his stupid pet. I was too embarrassed to ask for a refund.
With the donkey experience behind me, I ran to catch up to my buddies who were already packed and saying good-bye to everyone at the motel.
By now everyone in town had heard about my ride on the beach. Thinking of the sight it must have been loosened me up and I laughed as well. And then unfortunately it was time to leave our Jamaican friends.
The smiles, hugs, and hospitality they gave us in Long Bay still sends a warmth through my heart. I vow each winter to return to that peaceful place.
Montego Bay was our next stop and as we entered the city it was alive with tourists. My buddies went on a side trip to somewhere, and I stopped to relax at a cafe along the beach inside a beautiful white hotel.
Looking to blend in and relax, I bought the New York Times and proceeded to have a cup of coffee, which was poured by smiling workers dressed in white.
Each sip from the cup tasted like an elixir from heaven.
That day I found the magic of Jamaica’s Blue Mountain coffee, which the cafe poured freely. A thick mixture of milk, coconut, and sugar accented each cup. It must have been made by the gods for I have never tasted anything so good in my life.
After the first cup, I felt like I was floating on a cloud. Enjoying several more cups I left smiling.
Near the sailboats I found my friend, Bill, and we hung around talking with the natives, which was fun now that I could understand their language. In a little while we were inspired for another adventure and decided to get a closer look at the laid-back Marina.
Looking up I noticed a rental sign and thought it would be a terrific day to ride the ocean waves.
My experience with sailing is limited, but I am comfortable on the open water.
Two years earlier, I spent part of the summer cleaning, painting, and sailing my friend Bruce’s (from Tom’s River) 25-ft wooden schooner.
Docked in Coconut Grove we met, drank beer, and worked for weeks on that old boat finally making it seaworthy. We would leave at noon and return at dusk sailing and swimming with porpoises and dolphins all day.
This vision of freedom on Bruce’s boat danced in my head as we pushed off and into Montego Bay.
Maneuvering around a few smaller vessels in the bay we were almost free and into open water when something came alongside us lightly scraping our bow.
I jumped when I saw two big Jamaicans yelling at us just a few feet away.
The quick hit made us fumble the lines, shift our weight, and sink us all at the same time.
Underwater for a moment I shot up for air like a crazy man and instantly looked for my friend, Bill, and the boat we were in just seconds before.
By now we were both white with fright and started yelling at the Jamaicans who were already yelling at us and I wondered how we would get out of this mess in one piece.
Looking over I noticed the bottom of the boat and the sail nowhere in sight.
Yelling and cursing a Jamaican girl pushed her companion into the water screaming that he should help us.
Swimming beneath me I didn’t know if he was going to help or drown us. He came up for air and kept diving towards the mast finally freeing it from the sand where it was very stuck. The little rental popped up and innocently sat in the water like nothing had happened. The Jamaican had somehow freed the mast from the bottom.
Bill and I quickly swam to shore with boat in tow.
Jumping on the dock I handed the rental captain the rope to his boat and walked away dripping wet being careful not to make eye contact.
I did hear him ranting a bit as we quickly left the area.
My only thought was to get dry.
_____________________________________________
LOOKING FOR MARLEY
Bill and I basked in the warm sun for a long time until we began to feel somewhat human again. Enjoying the sun some more we hung out waiting for more friends to join up. This is when a Jamaican named Ray stopped by and started to play his guitar.
At first we ignored him then slowly started to enjoy the island sounds he was producing. Turning to us with a big smile he proclaimed that one day he would be a big recording star.
I was polite but to the point and told him the only musician I wanted to see was Bob Marley. “Have you heard of him?” I asked. Ray smiled the biggest smile yet and told us of the many recordings he had made, which were from the same studio that Marley used. He asked us if we wanted to go there. I looked up without hesitation and smiled.
So off we went to a beautiful location on the island that housed a state of the art studio with our new friend, Ray. Inside the studio we met a few producers and musicians who were practicing; but my hunt for Bob Marley or anyone remotely famous was to no avail.
___________________________________________
Bob Marley was at this time beginning a new sound of FREEDOM.
His music and his movement were taking off like a storm.
A storm called Jamaican Freedom. A new sound to the world for it was fresh, original and filled every part of your being.
The Day would not bring me any closer to Marley who was probably somewhere in ‘the bush’ singing to his people but I did catch his act in another ‘jungle’ years later.
Stuck in ‘the jungle’ of NYC mid-70’s - Central Park becomes alive with creativity when Spring begins…I was drawn to all of it - the artists, singers, poets and whatnot as I slithered out of my cocoon and my first Winter away from the warm beaches.
In the summer months, great artists appeared and played all night long. I would sit outside the fenced concert arena to take in any act that came to town. The seats on the small hill allowed a great and free vantage point.
One night Marley and Family appeared to sing and play for hours. I don’t remember most of the songs but still smile when I think of the sight on stage. Bob bounced up and down and in and out of each song like a man possessed. Behind him was an entire chorus of singers and musicians who serenaded us throughout the night. Above the stage was the largest cloud of ganja smoke you have ever seen.
___________________________________
RAY
Everything was “cool Mon” for Ray decided to play more live material and then let us hear his version of “Freedom” that he had recorded earlier in the month.
Ray was impressed with my experience in the music business and when I told him my Elton John story he lit up (see below). The singer had played sessions there along with Eric Clapton and a few other American musicians we had followed throughout the years.
That day we bonded with Ray and discovered a kindred spirit among the natives of Jamaican. His master plan was to either become a super star or to make a lot of money selling pot, which would get him off “the rock.” A dream many of his friends who lived there shared.
The “Prisoner of Paradise” had a plan and he desperately needed his freedom. I didn’t know how desperate he was until that night.
_____________________
Leaving Montego Bay wasn’t easy for many reasons, but we had to push on and catch up with the rest of our friends who decided they needed a shower and regular bed in a nice hotel near Kingston.
On our trip there we wondered what had happened to the rest of our travel buddies especially Neal and Leslie who went off into the jungles near Ochios Rios.
Entering Kingston we scraped together the last of our money to rent a suite for the four of us and relax with modern comforts.
Late that night Phil came in with a strange look on his face.
He told us that Ray was in town and wanted to meet with us. I suggested tomorrow some time. Phil said he was down the street behind a building near our hotel. I just rolled my eyes knowing our new friend had followed us and had nowhere to go. So we invited him in.
Ray was Ray the struggling musician with a thousand dreams and he let you know every one of them. That night he laid out a scheme to smuggle out 200 lbs. of pot that would be delivered to our door in Miami shipped directly by boat and then by truck. We would all stand to make a fortune. All we needed to do was to fund the deal in part with half the upfront money. His part was procuring and shipping.
In his persuasive way he almost convinced us.
But it all seemed too good to be true!
_______________________________
Celebrating New Year’s that year was done running and laughing with the families and the children of the island on a beach near Kingston.
There was music, sparklers, and fireworks everywhere.
We laughed for hours smoked more ganja with Ray and his island friends dreaming of large shipments of pot that would soon make us rich and help Ray get off the rock and into our world on the mainland.
We said good-bye to Ray as quickly as we had met him. It seemed strange and very surreal that our last glimpse of him was near the same jetty that ended the Jimmy Cliff movie, next to the Kingston harbor.
The dream called Paradise ended when we cleared customs and got through another hassle with the government who told us we had overstayed our temporary visa. They gave us two choices they could fine and jail us or let us go back to Miami. So we boarded our flights back to reality.
Relaxing in South Miami again before my next concert assignment I looked up every time a truck drove by or a new visitor would come almost hoping to be surprised by a secret delivery or the miracle of seeing Ray appear in the distance heading up to visit us.
Friends are friends—when you part you often think of them and hope they are doing well.
We never gave the upfront money needed to do the deal, but Ray had so much determination, deep in my heart a part of me thought he might find a way to make it happen for in the end you could tell he trusted us with his life. Or was it the dream he had. The dream he and millions share when they are stuck in poverty and dirt and see or hear about America.
It happens to people everyday around the world when their world disintegrates around them and the only hope they have is to come to our shores. People will do anything to bring it into their lives and Ray was prepared to sell weed and take his chances with the outcome.
We were not going to go down that road with him. It seemed like a bad choice and no truck came and there weren’t any return visits to the island by my friends or me.
We were all too busy chasing our own dreams and living our lives.
I never took for granted my freedom after that visit to the island, but I thought about Ray for years wondering how he was and what had happened to him in Jamaica.
I would bet you my last dollar he found a way to America.
Strumming and singing along the way.
__________________________________
When I think back I remember my friends where I grew up and the unique friendship we offered one another now swallowed up in our daily lives. It makes the distance grow even greater, but when I do think of them and the life we had in our youth a smile comes to my face and my heart whispers to my soul reminding me to never forget the timeless moments we shared now a lifetime away.
As someone once told me “You don’t know where you are going IF you don’t know where you’ve been.”
I am from Ewing, N.J. - Class of ’69.
I heard from my friend, Paul that the 30-year graduation class reunion played on for three straight days.
_____________________________
Epilogue
The entire saga of the Jamaican trip ended two months later when I caught sight of our lost colleagues Neil and Leslie who suddenly appeared one day in Coconut Grove.
They both had traveled with us to the island but disappeared soon after we arrived.
Their absence made us wonder about their whereabouts but no one knew a word of where they were and as it turned out the trip to Jamaica gave them a life-changing experience.
They had befriended the infamous Rasta people who live life to the fullest by living naturally off the land.
The beginning of the year is a celebration of the harvest from the year before. Neil and Leslie stumbled into the celebration and stayed on living and playing with their new friends.
The story goes that the celebration lasts for weeks and is held in the middle of the jungle where huts are filled with food, fruit, and ganja.
Tanned and smiling I was so glad to see them and to know they had more than survived but had found real paradise by living with the true natives of such a peaceful and beautiful place.
End of Part Two
TALES OF A SUBURBAN GYPSY
JHENSEL 2008

Friday, December 19, 2008

Local Author Spotlight: JOHN HENSEL

TALES OF A SUBURBAN GYPSY
A Story of Finding LOVE

__________________________


TABLE OF CONTENTS
1. The JOURNEY Begins
2. LIFE IN THE EYE
3. JEANNE and the Tug-of-War with a Rhino
4. STORIES
5. The LITTLE TRAIN that Could
This book is dedicated to all the People (angels) who took the time to help me along my PATH.
Thanks for your Faith in me and the Laughs we had along the way.
From: Notes to my Son
__________________________
BOOK 1
A TIMELINE TOWARDS DESTINY!
----------------------------
SURVIVING is easy...
It’s LIVING that’s Hard!
----------------------------
ONE
THE JOURNEY BEGINS
I hope stories from the past are important.
When you live a life, you never think you will have the time or the
motivation to go back and reflect.
After all who cares? Well, for one—I care!
The stories. The travels and journeys through life are important.
MY LIFE IS IMPORTANT…YOUR LIFE IS IMPORTANT.
All of us are shaped through the experiences and lessons.…
Do we Love or do we Hate?
Do we Bend or do we Break?
Every lesson leads us into the next.
That is part of the Journey and part of the fabric that makes us Sing or Cry!
By now my tears are dried up!
If you see the choir please tell them to start singing…I’ll be right over!
2007
A CHRISTMAS PROMISE
To DANIEL…
You are a heck of a kid!
I love you!
The people who come into your life see your “spark” and the love you
offer the world!
How could they miss it?
Try not to second-guess what has happened over time and look back and
say, “What a Shame!”
You can never blame our family or friends who are near and far.
Just savor the good and learn from the Bad!
____________
It’s life.
Your life.
Your choices.
Your voice.
Your will.
Put all of the energy you have into each day—no matter what they say.
I went the distance for your Mom and stayed with her till the last breath and beyond.
When a person you LOVE leaves forever it changes you and makes you second-
guess everything you do in your Life and the choices you made along the way...
the smart ones, the stupid ones, and the ones that were never made.
It seems like it’s been forever for me to not have guilt—to find Peace and to be on a path towards a future called Progress. For it didn’t hit me or even sink in when the mortician said she wasn’t coming back to us.
Looking down at her I tried my best to say good-bye!
I honestly thought she’d get up and give me a big hug and tell me it’s ok—
—still loving her now—Forever and a day!
__________________
You know it’s best. You know it’s true. She’s better where she is and you can’t feel blue.
Her innocence and beauty was swallowed up by the world and as we sat there crying and staring into space I promised with my heart I would raise you and keep you safe.
Whether you soar like an eagle or fall and hit the ground I’ll be there for you....
I’ll never let you down.
So be good to yourself and keep the beauty inside. Your natural-born gifts draw people to your side and into your heart.
You were born with “IT” on Christmas Eve at 12:24 a.m. and inherited an entire background of love and wisdom that has been passed on generation after generation.
A family of humble people, inspiring people, and people you have never known or had the opportunity to meet. They are with you and will ALWAYS be with you.
The love they shared with me shined through their eyes and touches both of our souls forevermore.
A connection that is more than blood!
But the real gift I have for you, son, IS THE MOST IMPORTANT.
A love that could light up the sky—withstanding time and all the tests that this life has to offer.
Combine this love with wisdom, compassion, and balance it with your heart.
When you “Learn the Game of Life” let it meet you on your terms.
That is when you begin to “Master” your destiny and all that you do!
Try to never forget where you came from or who your friends are now.
Embrace who you are and take it to great heights—in time you will be the one on Top –
For Everything in Life is about timing and by being prepared when the timing is Right!
I hope that one day, Son, you will know how blessed you truly are!
DAD
FIND THE PLACE
DEEP INSIDE
A PLACE THAT IS ALWAYS THERE
A PLACE THAT KEEPS YOU FROM HARM
AND LETS THE CHILD WITHIN COME OUT AND PLAY…
THE BEGINNING
-----------------------------------
“DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW…”
We used to just run around in Ewing, N.J., and laugh. Go to friends’ houses, parties, driving, whatever!
At 17, it didn’t really matter what we did as it was just great to be alive!
One night we were running and drinking. More high from life than booze somehow
ending up in a cemetery next to the tombstones.
Young and afraid of nothing we ran with the wind and teased it to catch us.
Running out of a maze of headstones I caught a glimpse of a thin chain near the road and jumped it. My best friend, Paul, who was seconds behind didn’t hear my shout in all the excitement and hit the wire at full speed knocking him down hard on the cement entrance.
For a moment he was still and I thought the worst. Then he started to laugh cursing in the same breath, which made me laugh, and we laughed some more wondering how we ended up in a cemetery in the first place.
We howled at the moon for a little bit longer then went back to our little homes still high from the night.
This how you run when you are young and free…with no real rules to hold you down!
_________________________________________
I COME FROM A WORLD
A world that is not to far from yours
A world that is optimistic
Fearless
And doesn’t judge you for who you are
BUT embraces your individuality
Which
Enhances your strength
So YOU can do better in the world
And help the next person in line
----------------------------------
“ON A ONE-HORSE OPEN SLEIGH…”
The 60’s and 70’s went by fast. There was so much going on we rode it like a wave until it crashed at our feet and somehow fell into the 80’s. You can’t forget those special times of being there and living through it! We traveled our world enjoying each day to the fullest.
On the street corners, concerts, clubs and discothèques.
----------------------------------
In the mid-70’s, after-hours clubs became very popular prior to the first discos, but you had to know where they were and how to find them.…
I befriended the group Mandrill from the many concerts we did together in Miami and New York… one night after jamming in their loft near the Village the group with me in tow head off to a private spot deep into the bowels of the city. A place I am sure no white man had been to before.
When we knocked, a secret answer was given and as we entered an all-night process was in full swing. Dancing, live music, and the beat of life as you have never experienced or dreamed of took place in front us.
Was I the only white man enjoying the all-night sounds and listening to fantastic music or was I in a movie of some kind?
It didn’t matter for life took on a new and special meaning that night…(I think I left with a long- legged model hours later as the sun came up over the city).
A few months later the first disco and legitimate after-hours clubs began allowing people of all ages to enjoy life to the fullest.
Was I the first in line? Probably not, but I am sure I was the second or third taking advantage of every second of it.…
Who wouldn’t?
_________________
The world at this time took on a quality all its own.
We held a unique link with each other and lived within a community called LIFE.
This bond and connection got us to know our neighbors. One by one. In thick or thin, most of us enjoyed who we were and what we were doing.
I know I did!
________________
During this time my friends and I enjoyed many adventures together traveling and exploring the East Coast as it awoke into a new era.
If the ’50s were the dark ages, then this new time of the ’60s was “living color.”
It was like coming out of a dark cave and finding Light. A light that woke up the world and an era that was very much a part of me and who I am today.
Studying history and looking back through time it reminded me of another revolution that began in Europe when the dawn of the Impressionists brought color and vibrancy through art and started a major change in the world.
Everyone’s life began shining like a rainbow after a storm.
We were alive with the color of Life and as it touched our bodies and captured our souls we went out and looked for more.
Living It.
Breathing It.
Touching It.
Each day was better than the last and so much Fun we never thought it would end.
The ’80s kept alive the promise of the ’60s and brought with it great potential.
People still fresh from the recent revolution of the ’60s and 70's started exercising their 'rights’ as individuals' by flexing their minds and opening them to new ideas stretching the limits of all possibilities.
We also began helping friends or strangers and thought often about of 'the other person' on the street.
The ones who had trouble going out. Taking them to the store. Helping them with their groceries or mowing their lawn without compensation. This is how I was raised in Ewing.
Your troubles and problems can wait. There was always someone worse off that needed help...
Selfishness was not allowed in our neighborhood.
___________________________________
While the ’90s brought back order and stability to our country a lot of us settled down to have families but soon many forgot the promise they made a decade earlier, which was to make this planet a better place.
Over time they became complacent, materialistic and caught up in their way of life which drew them inward.
Many people forgot about their fellow man. Instead of sharing the love that we had fought so hard for years earlier stopped bonding went into their rooms and started a new revolution called The Computer.
The age we live in today is a time without clear direction or leadership and people are striving to be more individualist then ever before.
Many shut out humanity and the world around them. A clear focus of commitment seems to be missing. This seems to not only affect the day- to- day life but also the future and HOW the children in our world will view the issues and relate to people when they are older!
Words of wisdom from long ago ring true to this day, as JFK once said,
“Divided there is little we can do.... Together there is little we cannot do.”
Working together brings unlimited results and broadens all possibilities.
The greed and selfishness, which has reared its ugly head today, has no place in a world of accomplishment.
Families are breaking up at a rate exceeding 50 percent per household!
Living one day at a time and hard work through communication is a recipe that can develop a relationship into something positive and very worthwhile.
Once you take a positive STEP in that direction you can’t look back or second-guess.
________________________________________
THE PATH I was on...
The people and the places I embraced since ’69 kept me in a constant whirlwind
including Miami, New York, California, and many states in-between.
I ran from myself with a restless energy. My Journey was like an itch that I had to keep scratching.
For NONE of it not the women—the money—the projects or the places were ever enough.
I always wanted to know what was behind the next door, the next adventure or romance.
Life was like this well into my 30’s until San Diego appeared. Life at the beach gave me a moment in time to relax and catch my breath.
1981 found me one block from the Pacific Ocean in a sleepy little beach town north of Tijuana and San Diego called Ocean Beach.
There were a lot of friends there…new ones and old ones and many of the crazies I grew up with in Ewing.
Buddies who enjoyed life to the fullest!
In the early ’80s, I found and breathed in fresh air that cleared my head from the insanity of Los Angeles, which included excess on all levels…drugs, delusional people, greed, and many endless days and nights leading nowhere.
Ocean Beach was more of the same, BUT at least I could be with friends—another word for TRUST.
Something you can never BUY or take for granted!
People like Bob S., Jimmy G., Ralph L., Barney, Barbara, Tommy (Two-Tone), and a cast of characters and visitors from the East Coast that I had not seen in years.
Desperate to leave L.A., Wendy and I moved south to San Diego on a whim.
My L.A. bosses and partners would spend every dime we made in business on long nights, limousines, and coke whores. The people that surrounded us and my decisions up to then weren’t always the greatest.
The music industry and now the comedy circuit that I helped to promote in Encino with my old friend, Mark (from Seals & Crofts), brought with it many of the same characters and wannabes.
Most of my L.A. acquaintances were good honest people, but they were lost in a world that was somewhere caught between self-indulgence, fantasy, and reality.
Moving to San Diego was not the brightest idea I had for there was no job—no guarantees, but my soul yearned for a cleansing, and with the little money I had saved I went anyway and landed there with only one thing—HOPE… and a desire to feel alive again.
A burning desire—for I felt like a beached whale that would do anything to find water and freedom…once again!
It turned out to be a one of my better decisions!
Regardless of what your past decisions have brought you, you begin to realize there is only one way to live and that is to push yourself forward and to know that things will turn out OK.
Within two weeks and after countless job interviews I landed one of my better jobs and became part of the sales department for a company based out of L.A. — Jack LaLane Health Spas.
My area—San Diego County. (Did I mention my boss was ninety miles away?)
As long as I had results I was left alone. So I got the results, worked unique hours, and hung out at the “beach.”
Life was finally good again. Very good!
___________________________________
In ’83 and somewhere in-between, fun with my friends from Ewing, trips to Tiajuana, Padre games during the week, tennis in the morning, girls in the afternoons, volunteer work and a “beach” lifestyle, my soul caught up with me and the spirit inside started aching and became sad (or maybe it was the constant hangovers).
Deep inside the “fire” in my heart had burned out.
I had been following a “never-ending dream” that had haunted me from my youth—
A dream of finding Love.
A dream of longing and acceptance and a way to bridge the gap of emptiness and that “something” that had always eluded me.…
The “switch” seemed like it was “on” but the tank was empty!
Whatever was missing from me ached deep inside making me at times feeling lost and very unfilled....
This ache probably started when I was 11 with the loss of my father. The older I got the more it magnified.
I could feel a deep desire to be loved and a burning quest to find it.
Not knowing what I was looking for I just traveled—roamed and did whatever I felt like doing... somehow—someway always landing on my feet and being on top...when the answers to my “quest” appeared out of nowhere I knew fate or providence had provided me another path in the road.
Love entered my house one night in the form of a lady named Wendy.
I never knew I had it in me or would ever find it in my life. EVER.
But I did and found the SECRET of what “binds” all of it together and when it found me it transformed who I was. I found the “real” John.
The answers for my life crystallized and became quite simple when they appeared and as I found out NOTHING works well without the power of LOVE behind it.
NOTHING.
UNCONDITIONAL LOVE!
I never understood the depths of a relationship until I saw this power work.
Consumed it. Lived it and experienced it's depth.
It humbled me until I respected it—slowly I emerged from my cave and dropped all expectations to embrace this strange new power. A power that made me stronger...wiser…ultimately helping me to win most of my battles. Over time...Love guided me and made me into the person I am today!
_______________________________
This is why I write these notes to you, Son.
So you know the Journey that took so long. The Journey that went down every road in life and seemed to take forever. The Journey to find my heart was not in vain.
I transferred the love I had for Mom into the energy it took to raise you.
That is what I offer you and all I can give you. LOVE—and the fact that it counts.
EVERYTHING COUNTS!
The “reason” we are here is to help others with their path and to ease the burden they carry with them each day. Helping others fills your cup—makes you stronger and fuels the desire to do more.
------------
I had my first taste of this in the mid-70’s while living in New York when I stumbled into the world of hard-core charity work. Desperate for money and a daily existence I answered an ad for phone solicitation.
The training educated me on the needs of others while putting cash in my pocket.
Everything changes when you put the needs of others First and when you meet people who are stricken with an almost incurable disease—CYSTIC FIBROSIS. (A disease that strikes children and stops their growth and any chance of living to be young adults).
Suddenly my shallow little world vanished and a new world appeared.
This world started me on the path towards Unconditional Love!
That was the beginning of the inward Journey and the Quest for answers on WHY we are here!
The only answer I found is that Love will find You.
It finds all of us. It’s inevitable!
When it comes your way embrace it and use it as your ally.
It will fight your fights and keep you safe.
---------------------------
“OVER THE FIELDS WE GO…”
Some of us will never forget how things were when we found our freedom in the late 60's.
It started a few years before “Woodstock”—at least it did where I lived.
In the mid-60’s California and Europe was exploding with music creating a springboard for fashion while Pop Art hit center stage. Most of us in the Jersey suburbs wore bellbottoms before they became fashionable. I got my first pair (’67–’68) early on.
Carl, a neighbor and who was in the Navy showed me his pair of wool bells that didn’t fit anymore. I fell in love with the style and wore them even though they itched and were hot in the spring heat.
I didn’t care bells were “cool.” Very cool.
Growing our hair and beards was a natural next step and we started playing allot as soon as the starting bell of freedom came to us through music in the form of Dylan, The Doors, Jefferson Airplane, The Stones, and of course John Lennon and the Beatles—asking us (no telling us) to wake up and start living.
They didn’t have to ask twice for none of us wanted to be left behind.
The rest of the world started moving forward, evolving and having a great time in the process.
The change of the ’60s whipped through our town like a hurricane and my friends and I were swept up in the excitement.
It felt like we were in the mainstream of something special.
It was as “real” as it could get. You could become anything you wanted to be.
Do anything you wanted to do. Go anywhere you wanted to Go.
There were No Limits.
It was a new way to live and once the momentum started there was no way to stop it.
You either rode this new wave in life or watched from the shore.
I have never been a watcher.
The search for meaning in my life was underway...
_____________________________________
The roads of Life brings us
possibilities and options that give us no warning
no Street Signs or Yellow Lights..
So do You Stop with Caution or continue into the Day?
The saying He who hesitates is Lost must be validate but sometimes you have to test the waters to know which way you are going..
and sometimes..
you just sit on the bank by the river of Life
and watch it flow..
----------
“LAUGHING ALL THE WAY...”
Before The Journey…my house on Lower Ferry Road was small but considered part of the middle class and the scene of many a party for my friends at school including our high school frat.
I started at a young age to party. Dad brought over a pool table from the Trenton Armory
and at 10 years old I had pool tournaments everyday after school.
When I was 16, we held a summer dance party in the backyard and I remember slow dancing with a cheerleader, Sue, to the sounds of the sounds of a new group, The Beach Boys.
A year later, Mom started stepping out and dating more. She would go on weekend excursions with friends—naturally parties at my house became more creative.
One weekend when she left I decided to remove all the useless furniture from the house and asked friends to bring over mattresses, which soon filled the house from top to bottom. Naturally a make-out party began which lasted two days and nights.
I threw a lot of parties but did so with the cooperation of my friends who helped clean up on Sunday (D-Day) before she got home that night.
One spring Sunday in May, we had so much garbage I didn’t know what to do with it.
A number of us drove around the countryside with dozens of bags looking for an isolated area. We found a steep incline off a deserted road and dumped out five to ten large bags of junk and debris.
Two hours later my sister, Betsy, who was now married and living in Titusville showed up screaming. The police found the bags went through them discovering phone numbers and bills threatening to lock up Mom for littering if it wasn’t cleaned immediately.
Mom, who was arriving any minute and my sister, God bless her, began going nuts so we rounded up a few buddies to help fix this illegal activity.
The movie “Alice’s Restaurant,” comes to mind when I think of this incident for poor Arlo who dumped the garbage off a cliff one Thanksgiving Day faced stern police, search helicopters, blood sniffing dogs, crime scene photographers, fingerprinting, and forensic specialists thoroughly trained just for this kind of activity and for the sole purpose of catching terrible people like him and to bring them to justice.
So with the scenes from the movie in my head and thinking the worse we headed back to the place of this horrific crime to retrieve our party litter.
Sneaking down the ravine I held my breath expecting to be photographed fingerprinted and captured by a police with bullhorns BUT all was quiet and there was no one around.
The garbage from the party was scattered everywhere and with my head still pounding from the night before gathered all the junk up throwing it somewhere else minus the phone numbers.
----------------------------
I am sure our class of ’69 is still is remembered with a twinkle in the eye....
We basically did what we wanted to do and vowed never to get caught.
Graduation was just the beginning of my life in and out of silly adventures but the class of ’69 took FUN to a new level.
-----------------
On graduation night Dwight, Anthony, and I left Paul’s party on Main Blvd. to go cruising.
Somewhere between the giggling and excitement of being free from school we ended up on the outskirts of Princeton.
That’s when the real fun began as I saw a great sight. A Steam Roller on the side of the road just sitting there waiting for us....
Were the keys in it? Was there enough gas?
Yes, to all of the above.
So we did what any normal drunken grads would do. We jumped on the beast and started driving down the road. The side of the road and over the road on to neighbors’ yards…. watch out for cars-oops sorry about your mailbox, sir!
Laughing some more we got off the fun machine found our car and vanished into the night.
When the police set-up a road block around the perimeter to look for the bad people who had taken their prize machine for a joy ride we drove right into it with innocence written all over all faces.
Interrogation lead us into separate rooms at the station and with that same innocence we each denied any guilt or wrong doing despite an eyewitness to “The Crime.”
__________________________
“WHAT FUN IT IS TO RIDE AND SING…”
Paul and I left Ewing late that Fall (’69) and headed for Miami and college in his ’58 pick-up.
We were both looking for a new life and adventure.
We didn’t really know how crazy the rest of the world was.
We soon found out.
Both of us had missed Woodstock but heard about it firsthand from our closest friends such as Novo, Ralph, and Alan who were there. (Poor Alan had to be airlifted from the site due to a spider bite.)
The real party started that weekend in N.Y.
Thoughts of fun in the sun began during the ’68 spring break when we visited Tom S. who was attending the community college at Miami-Dade.
Tom had a cool pad with black lights in most of the rooms that was near the beach.
He was tan and always smiling.
Not too hard to handle. It was a plan!
My little Honda bike sat next to Paul’s Suzuki in the back of the truck as we headed south to a school that offered us a cheap education and year-round sunshine.
Warm sunshine. Another cold winter in Jersey was not an option. We didn’t have to think too hard to be motivated.
So we packed-up and left!
The trip itself was slow, long, and boring.
Paul didn’t allow his truck past 50 M.P.H. and that was on the highway.
It was slower on the back roads where I-95 connected to smaller towns and when a small downpour turned into a mini street-flood that came right up to the floorboards we knew we were in for a long trip.
Driving for days at this speed takes its toll on a person. Arriving in Daytona Beach, excited to see people, we drove on the beach celebrating with the locals who showed us a great deal of hospitality.
Paul remembers laying on the beach and almost getting run over by the bikes that cruise up and down. I don’t remember anything but sobering up two to three days later in someone’s house near the beach.
The trip with stops, slow speeds, parties, and floods took us close to a week to finish, but we somehow made it.
Seeing the sign to Miami Beach made us turn off immediately and head to the ocean near many of the major hotels.
It was pitch-black and dark when we parked. Hearing the sound of the waves I jumped out of our home on wheels and ran towards the sound ready to begin riding the surf.
What I didn’t know was that there were enemies on the beach waiting for me that night.
Enemies who had secretly buried themselves in the sand—ready to strike!
Unbeknownst to me giant jellyfish were nesting and lying there like landmines waiting and as I ran towards the ocean I firmly squished one or two and they shot their poison straight into my leg and kneecap. Jumping into the warm waters the pain started moving throughout my whole leg making it numb and hard to walk.
Welcome to Miami!
________________________________
South Florida was untamed and just slightly developed at the time—just like us!
When God created Eve to keep Adam company it was the end of Eden and the
perfect world they call paradise.
I thank God everyday I wake up for inventing these beautiful creatures called WOMEN who inhabit our world.
They inspire me.
I’ve been known to pick-up a fresh boutique of carnations on Valentine’s Day gleefully passing them out to any woman I would meet on the street.
The smile of a woman is intoxicating and has to be the most beautiful thing in the world.
To make a lady feel special is the best moment there is.
I was born a true romantic (on Valentine’s Day) and with the sign of Aquarius hanging on my heart you can see why love puts a spring in my step. So imagine if you will my delight going to the beaches of Miami where beauties are suntanned and in bikinis.
Paradise on earth was back and I felt like a man who had not eaten for years and had now found the line to the smorgasbord of life where variety and taste surrounded all senses.
In between meals I attended classes at Miami Dade and played at our little house in the SW.
In a few months our friends Danny and Ralph, (Alan was already there), moved down.
It seemed like a small circus with a revolving door of new visitors appearing daily.
Anything that could happen, did!
For food we would sneak into the University of Miami cafeteria, which was near our house, and eat for free moving on to the next dorm room party or music jam. Getting high and playing Frisbee to music all night worked well in the hot Florida nights.
One afternoon, high on many things, including the sunshine, a street-wide Frisbee game began. Many people from the neighborhood joined in.
Alan, who was always high decided to get even higher and climbed on the roof catching and throwing with the rest of the gang.
As I walked out of my room (the porch), Alan yelled. He had touched the power line while playing and thought he had electrocuted himself. He fell and hit something and landed in the bushes next to the porch and got up laughing—all in a matter of half a second.
His Afro hair and this incident gave him the fitting nickname “Electric Al” which stuck for years.
__________________________________
It was hard to take school seriously. I was there to basically stay out of the draft and to get tan. Period.
Once I did find myself on campus just getting to class was a challenge. The outside patio offered a small park setting complete with benches and a stage for concerts.
One sunny day as I strolled by, Santana was setting up to play.
The following week CTA (Chicago Transit Authority) came on the scene to offer us rock‘n’roll complete with a horn section. The first I had seen in live music.
At the U of M, outside patio concerts were held almost weekly and most groups of the day played for free.
The best would hypnotize you by playing directly to your soul and to the beautiful sunsets that submerged us in their colors.
One night, Jesse Colin Young, played a song that seemed to last forever and
then some when he played he created a sunset of his own through a melody that went on forever...magically slipping us into the night.
That is how the real masters of music play. They sweep you away into a timeless place.
A place that makes you feel safe, free, and very much alive.
So very much alive.
___________________________
“MAKING SPIRITS BRIGHT…”
Moving to a more civilized area of condos in Coral Gables my neighbors turned out to be the lively bunch from National Airlines.
If you had heard about the women from this carrier, they had quite a reputation to uphold.
Each ad would show a girl named Phyllis, Sally, Beth, June, et cetera. And with their big smiles and beautiful bodies would welcome you to “fly them.” National even named each plane after a girl and ran ads everywhere to arouse the young travelers of the day.
The campaign worked well, and it was with much delight that I found an apartment next to mine filled with women from the airline.
Sally, one of the stewardesses, became lonely one night and joined me for a free concert at the next campus.
Why would I hesitate? Off we went to the Dade campus smoking hash in her convertible Triumph and blasting music through the 8-track player.
A fairly new group was playing that day. The Allman Brothers from Georgia were touring and playing anywhere they could to promote themselves with the release of a new album.
This is the first time of many I would see them play. Greg and Duane Allman, Dicky Betts. They ripped set after set, which lasted hours.
The Allman’s were awesome. They would drink and hang out with the crowd in-between and just keep going. I think I passed out before they were done. All I remember is waking up in bed with Sally the next morning, smiling a drunken grin.
_________________________
That fall school began at the Miami-Dade South campus and things got interesting in a hurry. During my first week I started talking to a fellow student who sat next to me in history class.
It seemed her nursing school sent them over to take a few courses to compliment their medical training.
As I found out just a few miles from my house sat a separate college completely full of female nursing students. Those many dates still make me smile.
--------------------------
Leading up to college, Vietnam was the most important subject for any of us.
Graphic visuals of death and destruction came across the tube day and night.
Stories began surfacing as friends and neighbors began dying on the rice fields and jungles in this faraway land.
My generation was the very next to be drafted.
We did not understand the battle and or why we should fight and die or be maimed in a land that seemed non-threatening to our American soil.
Protests then were individual rights and personal decisions. Many friends and neighbors had just turned 18.
They firmly decided they would not go. Unified group protests were still in the near future.
Stories of people called to the draft board for physicals and interviews surfaced.
Most drew a line in the sand and did whatever they could not to be inducted.
Creative ideas started to appear. Stupid ideas began as well. People took lots of drugs, claimed they were homosexual, stayed up for days drinking coffee, pretended they were mentally ill, faked doctor notes, and did WHATEVER it took to fail the draft.
This fight. This war was different from war in our father’s time when the country was rallying behind a great leader and fighting oppression.
It was obvious the government was NOT telling the whole story and throwing the world a smoke screen. We just did not know why and it scared us.
Close to 18 years old I briefly enlisted in the National Guard in honor of my Dad, a WWII veteran and hero at the Battle of the Bulge.
I backed out at the last minute after seeing the horror and tragedy of students dying at Kent State.
The National Guard is sworn to protect and help people. Not designed to kill unarmed students.
It was a very sad time in America and when the full story came out from Ohio I was glad Dad was not around to see the disgrace.
Ohio guardsman thought they were firing with rubber bullets, OOPS sorry, they’re real!
To say things got a little tense is an understatement. Neighbors being drafted and dying in what looked like a useless fight lead by a man you couldn’t trust drew a line in the sand for everyone.
The nation was already very confused. In the mid-60’s race riots and protests caught everybody off-guard.
The “old school” that had protected our country a decade earlier was now being challenged and “called out” in its own backyard.
People of all races said, “Enough.”
The simmering pot came to a boil with Vietnam. It divided families included husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, employees and employers.
Everyone had an opinion.
Everyone in America took a side.
A line was drawn between the Pro-war and the Peace-lovers and the line ran down our city, state, and country in breathtaking speed. Neighbor to neighbor. Person to person.
People everywhere turned their voice to one side or the other while the country was igniting in front of our eyes.
I took the side of Peace and was granted immunity from war by a student exemption that lasted my first year in college but after one year the exemption was lifted. I was fair game for the draft and thought of Canada often.
-----------------------------------------------
One sunny day, we had time on our hands and decided to hangout at the beach near the Fontainebleau Hotel.
Immediately, we were hypnotized by the smell of surf, sand, suntan lotion and of course the mountains of pretty coeds.
It seemed nice to finally make it to paradise or so it seemed for the thought was short-lived.
In the near distance storm clouds were approaching and as two funnel clouds formed to create large waterspouts Brian and I gasped and started to run—then someone calmly mentioned that this sort of thing happened a lot at the beach and it was harmless.
We left anyway just to be safe.
Later that day driving back to our house brought us to a man on the side of the road who was struggling with his car. Pulling over to help we noticed it was an old classmate, Alan Rosenberg from Ewing (’68-Electric Al).
Alan was new in town and decided to also enroll in Miami-Dade. His hair was as big and bushy as the largest Afro you can ever imagine. The sun made it glisten and his tan shone through the haze. He was in definitely in his element, but without a place to stay or a car so he moved in with us adding to the party we held at “Woodstock South.”
_________________________________________________
Life in college was a blur. I spent it the way most students do by enjoying cold kegs and warm coeds.
In the summer of ’70, I decided to stay in Southern Florida and bask in the heat and solitude by the ocean.
My goal that year was simple. Sailing from Coconut Grove on my friend Bruce’s boat and working on my tan with little ambition for anything but playing music in the evenings with my flute, jamming at clubs for beer money and getting up the next day to do it all over again.
Life was good but things change in a hurry when you are destined for something else and my train got on a new track when I met Ron Kamin and his friends from New York that fall.
____________________________
“JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE ALL THE WAY…”
Fall 1971 brought with it YES, Emerson Lake and Palmer (ELP), and amazing new sounds from England.
The music world opened up when electronics began using synthesizers.
Prior to that the only way you could incorporate a full sound in a band was with “live orchestras.” Now with a push of a button the music world brought us unlimited vibrations.
This new wave of music began heading our way and straight towards Miami thanks to the local concert promoters.
Ron Kamin and his crew handled most shows in the area. His company created the support for just about every event. Somehow. Some way I wanted in on the fun and one day the opportunity presented itself as I was allowed to help carry equipment for the Jake Geils band.
My fee -a free concert.
The following week I went head-on into the concert world and began a part time career of back stage set-ups, manning the troopers (lights), or anything else I could do to help the crew.
After a few months I started working in “the office,” where the underground paper, the Daily Planet, was produced and sold, “the office” where the concerts began and ended.
Before long I got to know all the players including Jerry Powers, the owner and my first mentor in business. Jerry could smell money under an avalanche and easily find a way to dig it up.
Motivated by the business of music I left school and became involved with a unique opportunity to work with the masters of rock.
One little job led to another, I would be hauling equipment one night while working security the next or running for Danishes and coffee. I became a tradesman and gofer all at once. Paid mostly in cash and below minimum wage didn’t matter. I loved it!
Meanwhile, I was meeting all the players in the business which included managers, road crews, vendors, lighting, sound techs, and, of course, the groups.
The music business is grueling, but with each new venue my contacts grew.
Groups coming through the circuit included the best I had ever heard…
B.B. King, Allman Brothers, ZZ Topp, Beach Boys, Steely Dan, Johnny/Edgar Winter, Pink Floyd, Stevie Wonder, Traffic, Elton John, Jethro Tull, Rod Stewart, ELP, YES, Deep Purple, Mountain, and many opening acts like Foghat, K.C, Marshall Tucker, JoJo Gunne, even Chubby Checker and his revival with Mary Wells came through our doors and brought their special blend of magic to the stage.
In the business world, you always have a learning curb. The world of music isn’t any different and maybe even more extreme.
One of my first assignments was to watch and baby-sit Johnny and Edgar Winter’s girlfriends. They were staying at the Coconut Grove Hotel, which is next to the bay and a beautiful park.
My job was to stay in the room, to watch their every move and keep them there at all costs, but (oops) they snuck away into the day to shop or get high after one of their friends distracted me.
At a young age I found out that rock‘n’roll women can be very devious.
I never did find out the outcome with the girls and went to the site late in the afternoon to help prepare for the evening’s show.
-----------------------
Working side by side with Ron on stage opened my eyes to the planning and the timing for a live event.
Watching his work habits and constantly asking questions paid off one day as the unthinkable happened.
Ron was as professional as anyone but he had a weakness which included booze mixed with sedatives after work.
On this particular night we had just produced a show featuring Foghat and Steely Dan (their last tour for 25 years).
The stage props included the usual rentals from local vendors. Ron’s vendor list was endless and always included the rental of a baby grand piano. When we left for the night, the stage was cleaned, set and ready for the next show—little did we know a small tropical storm was brewing in the south and heading our way.
Ron settled down for a normal evening of his usual sedatives—Quaaludes and Booze.
In the early morning hours the storm came and swept through Miami as it always did—fast, wet and pouring for an hour or two until it finally disappeared and headed north.
By noon, Ron had lost his job and comfortable lifestyle as a stage manager.
The short storm soaked and ruined the piano he had forgot to remove the night before.
By 3 p.m. I walked into work ready for my next assignment but as I entered Jerry shut the door and jabbered out the story of Ron’s stupidity. He then asked if I could handle the responsibilities of running the concerts and advance ticket sales for Miami.
I just looked up and smiled!
“When is the next show?” I asked.
I was more than ready!

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Welcome

Welcome to our new blog Voices of New Hope

CONTACT US  •  OUR PUBLICATIONS  •  PRIVACY POLICY  • 
® Journal Register Company. All Rights Reserved.