Poetry.

The old poets are dead,

the new poets are faking it.

The good poets know words not life,

the bad poets know life not words.

It’s chaos, 

the rules no longer apply.

Rhythm, meter, and rhyme are gone.

Just paint on canvas, doesn’t have to be art.

We all might as well do it.

Poetry…

Words words words.

Feelings feelings.

Heart heart heart.

No heart.

Evil evil.

Love love love, because it overcomes.

Or does it.

Poetry…

There are no rules.

Just say how you feel.

If people agree or can relate,

you’ll be famous.

It Beats.

It beats.

It beats.

All the time.

Fast, then slow,

making it’s own rhythm.

Small pain, enough to scare.

Long ache, enough to despair.

It’s eyes have seen true awful.

It’s ears have heard tragedy.

A touch to fall in love.

A taste that turns to lust.

I have no control now.

It beats.

It beats.

Awake with a fright,

sweat on the brow.

It beats.

Fall asleep to the sound.

It beats.

Till it stops…

and silence is my heart.

Lake Flower

It was dark, very dark, the only light was coming from a small bulb on top of a pole that illuminated the small area that I was standing. If I had walked out of the circle, I would have been engulfed in the dark of the Adirondack region. The wind was blowing slightly off the mountains and the night was still. Still enough that you could hear the faint whistle of the wind as it was sucked between the peaks into the valley. Snow was falling lightly, but the flakes were big enough to make it seem as though a blizzard was on the way. I was standing under the light of the bulb, on a bank, over looking the small section of Lake Flower. It, like most of the lakes around here were made by glaciers. It was small enough in this section that I could swim across, but not tonight, it would be so cold I’d never make it. Behind me was a picnic table left by the small town of Saranac Lake. That was all that lived within the light. It was beautiful, the lake, the moon, the snow, the darkness, the crisp air. I felt the mountains surrounding me breathing. For a moment I didn’t feel alone, I was hyper focused on mother nature’s charm, until, for a second the bulb flickered and the darkness took me. The light came back on but the dark stayed. I felt my sadness quickly return. I sat at the picnic table. A tear started to fall, running down my cheek until it got to the bottom of my cheek bone and couldn’t hang on any longer. The wind swept it away and I sat, in the silence, as the snow gathered around. My heart had been broken, my life path now going in a different direction then before. What was she doing right now as I sit beside a lake in the cold, my tears being stolen by the mountains icy breath. How is it that love takes so much work to obtain, yet it falls as easy as this snow does now? I starred at the lake my mind filling with thoughts and feelings I could not shake. I felt my shoulders get heavy with sadness and I slumped. My head in my hands, a voice, “Are you ok?” I jumped up on guard, “I thought I was alone.” I said. She was beautiful, she stood 5 foot 4 maybe 5. She had rosy little cheeks and beautiful green eyes that flickered in the glow of the one bulb. The rest of her was all bundled up under a tuque, hoodie, leather jacket, jeans, and big boots. Her smile shown through and that was all I needed to see. She let her lips creese a little into a small smile before responding to me and it sent a warmth through my body starting at my stomach and then pushed to the rest of me. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She said. “I just saw you there and you looked like you could use some company? May I sit?” She asked. “Sure.” I had no other words to share other than, “sure.” She sat on the other side of the table facing me. “You were crying?” She said. “My girlfriend left me for someone else.” I said, although I am not sure why I felt comfortable enough to just say that out loud to a stranger. “I am sorry to hear that. You don’t live around here do you?” She asked me. “No, I am just in town to see my friend in a play up at the theatre. I was too early and I saw this lake so I came to sit awhile.” She nodded as I finished. “Are you?” I asked her. “Yes this is my home.” She said. We sat and talked for what seemed to be hours, but as I checked the time it seemed to be standing still. Obviously not literally, it was moving but slow enough that I got to know everything about her. We laughed and she listened to everything that happened to me and she put her hand on top of mine. Her hand was soft and surprisingly warm considering the weather. It felt good being touched. I wanted to kiss her, “could I be falling in love again so soon? Is that ridiculous to even think?” I was sitting there, with her hand on mine, confused. I was still grieving over the loss of a love I thought to be true. Yet, here was this new girl that made me feel butterflies in my stomach as I once had with my ex. I was simultaneously angry, sad, happy, aroused, I started to panic and pulled my hand back. “Thank you, for being here with me tonight, it’s really helping.” I said, wondering if she could see everything I was feeling. “You know, I got my heart broken today as well.” She said. “What!? Really? Why haven’t you said anything, here I am going on and on, I’m sorry.” I said. “It was just easier to listen to your heart ache and try to help you then it was to say anything about mine. You helped me tonight, just by letting me help you.” She leaned in, “My heart brakes when love is undone.” As she said it, her beautiful smile faded and I could see her shoulders start to bear the weight of her words. “I am very sorry.” I said feeling the tears start to fill my eyes, but this time for her. “Anthony?” She said, and I was trying to remember back though out the conversation to remember her name, then I realized we never introduced ourselves. “How did you know my name, did we say them and I am the ass that doesn’t remember?” She smiled, “It’s time for me to go.” She said. “You have a play to get to and the rest of your life to live.” She stood and walked towards the lake. “Oh ok, can I have your number...will I see you again?” I asked. She stood for a moment looking out at the lake and then she turned back to me. She smiled so big her cheeks started to close her eyes. My heart was pounding, she was so beautiful and now she was going to be leaving. “Someday you’ll find me.” That was the last thing she said to me, she turned back towards the lake and started undressing. First the boots, then pants, then coats and tuque. “You are going to freeze!” I yelled. She never looked back, her body sparkled in the moon light, her hair blowing in the wind gently, snow sticking to her. She slowly stepped into the lake and walked deeper and deeper. I couldn’t say anything...I stood there my mouth open...but no words came. The water filled tin where the curve of her back met her hips, snow kissing her body she kept walking. The icy water and the darkness beyond the bulb engulfing her. She turned, water covering her breasts, she lifted her hand and blew a kiss. The wind blew and a snow flake landed on my lips and I blinked. When my eyes opened she was gone. I ran to the edge of the water. I wanted to call to her but I didn’t know her name. I was looking for her to come back up for air, she never did. I pulled out my cell phone thinking of who to call. No service. I looked down at my feet panicking. Her cloths weren’t there. I searched for them and they weren’t there. I checked my phone again and the time. That couldn’t be right, I remember I checked the time when I started down the path to the lake, from then to now was only twenty minutes. Did I just stand there in the cold and make all that up in my mind? Meeting the perfect girl after losing whom I thought was the perfect girl? Confused, I walked back up the path slowly towards the playhouse and walked inside. There was a small table set up for wine. “May I have a few napkins?” I asked the older woman behind the table. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost dear, are you okay?” She asked handing me a few napkins. “I think so, I was just down at the lake and…” I stopped myself, “...yes I am ok.” I smiled at her. “Drink this, it’s on me!” She handed me a glass of white wine. “Thank you.” I said as I walked away. I was still early and I found a small shelf under a window. I stood at it and wrote this story on four napkins. I smiled remembering the last thing she said to me, “Someday you’ll find me.” She was love. Love lost, and love found. I wondered if she had visited others that had stood overlooking the lake. Maybe, but tonight she was there for me.

Since that night at the lake, I haven’t ever stopped looking for her smile.

A Love Like Theirs

They say a person will learn to love by watching those around them. I have learned what love means to me. Love is truth. A purity that cleanses the soul and makes your stomach feel like a thousand butterflies lifted from a field. You can smell it, touch it, feel it, taste it, it becomes one with you. Love should be the air surrounding you. Everyone around you should want to breathe it in. Not like an obsession, that is something else, but an extension. True love will be an extension of you. I learned what I wanted my truth to be by watching my grandparents. My grandparents are truly an extension of one another. They have been together for over 60 years and never a cross word. My grandfather lovingly dotes on my grandmother, doing everything she asks before she asks it. I know that sounds impossible but it happens right before my eyes. Dinner will be done and grandma will start to move towards something or to move a plate and grandpa will do it right before she finishes her first movement. The phone will ring and grandpa will answer while reaching for another phone to give to grandma as if every call to the house is meant for them both. They sit together and watch cooking shows on a small television from the early 90’s and do the crossword puzzle together. They will sit in silence on the porch and read a book and watch the passers by. When they get a little irritated about something grandpa will slip into Italian and grandma will finish his sentences in English, in a way to sort of translate for the rest of us. They have little jokes together that they have collected over the years that no one else will ever have. They know and lovingly understand each other’s nuances, like “leave the toilet seat cover up in case grandma needs to go in a hurry.” Said in a low whisper to not embarrass. Alway’s smiling, always laughing, always in love. My grandma knows that grandpa will always put her sweater on her shoulders when she needs it, without being asked to do so. My grandpa knows that his wife will humor his humor and do the crossword puzzle with him even when her mind starts to forget things. When one’s hands are sore the other takes over, they are an extension. That is truth, that is love. I will know I have found my love when she becomes my extension and when I become her truth. Watching my grandparents has been both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because I know how I will treat my significant other, or at least strive to. A curse because now it’s all I want, I wont settle for anything less. I know she is out there, and I wont stop till I find my truth!

Groceries.

From my childhood home to the town where I attended school was 5 miles. From my childhood home to the city where we got our groceries was 12 miles. Now, 12 miles does not seem like a far distance and as the crow flies it is not. However, for about 6 months out of the year the road that travels those 12 miles can be a treacherous one. Winters in Upstate New York can be unforgiving. While the other 6 months of the year it can be a pleasant drive to the city. I say city, it was the big city to me. After traveling some now that I am older I know it’s more like two small villages connected by a bridge. But for a young boy that lived in a small cedar cabin in the middle of the woods, it was a city. My father built our home with his bare hands, and later I would find out he used a hand saw for every board used. Yes, a hand saw. Let me explain that a little more, my dad did not use any power to build our house. Now that is truly, “by hand.” My parents decided to move out of the tiny old trailer which we called home and build the cabin the day my mom found a rat that rivaled me in size. Two years later and every cent they had, we moved into our little cabin. When I say every cent we had I want to be sure to explain that we were poor. My dad would work 2 sometimes 3 jobs to feed us and my mom would work as well. It started with mom waitressing and then it wasn’t enough so mom went back to construction and hard labor. I admire her for that. Not to mention, around the clock my grandfather owned our family business which meant we were all his employees at any given moment. All of this to tell you that growing up was tough and figuring out where the next meal came from was a daily question. Every two weeks, usually on a Friday, it was grocery day. Mom would pick us up from school and we would get into whatever old, coughing up fumes, van she was driving and we would Walton family off to the big city for groceries. My father never came with us, he was either working or just hated waisting the time getting food that he wouldn’t get much of anyway. I often wonder if there were times he went hungry? Anyway, it would just be my mother, me and my little brother. It was kind of a big deal getting groceries. It was exciting and fun and my mom always saved up a little extra so that if we were good we could get a little cheeseburger or some chicken tenders from Burger King before we went home. Mom would put my little brother in the front basket of the shopping cart and me in the big back part and off we would wheel going up and down every single aisle. It was my job to hold the clicker. The clicker was a little orange contraption that had 5 buttons on the top each for a different denomination of funds spent. Mom would pick an item and tell me the exact price and I would use my fingers to push down the appropriate plunger and tell her the amount as it grew. She carefully selected items based on price and necessity. Sometimes she would stand and stare at items in the middle of the aisle for what seemed to be an eternity for us kids. Looking back, I know now, it was her deciding if we could do without the item she was holding, as if staring at it might change the price. We were just kids we didn’t know how much money we had or didn’t have. As a parent you try your hardest to shelter your kids from those stressors. Of course if we had known, we would have said, “go ahead mom, get it, we don’t need Burger King.” There was one day, one day I will never forget and it was the day I knew the reason I was in charge of the clicker. It made the silly little game we played, not a game anymore, but a job I took very seriously. Some how, as children do, I messed up the count on the clicker and when we got to the counter and all the items were scanned, it was too much for us to afford. The line was huge, there were tons of people behind us and two weeks of groceries is a lot of items and now the bag boy was putting them into bags as fast as he could and my mother, my poor, sweet mother, standing there trying to decide what we could do without. She started to cry, they weren’t, “I give up” tears. They were concentrated, sad, “I have to make a decision for the whole family right now.” tears. She grabbed a few items, steak, sandwich meat, cereal we had wanted to try other items deemed unnecessary under duress. The bag boy put the already bagged items into the cart. She pushed the cart out of the store and into the cold, thin, air of the night and loaded us and the groceries into the van. She got in herself, lit a cigarette, and cried. From that day on I never screwed up that stupid clicker again. The mistake I made had altered the food my family could eat those two weeks, and it made my mother cry. Of course only I saw it that way but even as a young boy I felt things so deeply. “That clicker would never best me again.” I thought. She finished her cigarette, threw the tiny butt out the window, blew her nose and wiped her eyes. Then she drove right across the street to Burger King and bought us dinner. After all that sacrifice and suffering in the store, she never thought once to spend the 10 dollars she saved for each grocery trips special treat. Buying groceries was never the same for me again. Now, when I see a mother all alone with their children in line a tear comes to my eye. Now, when I see someone hand something they clearly wanted, back to the teller because they can’t afford it, I help if I can. Watching my mother cry, in a van, on a cold winter night, in the parking lot, with two kids in the car, paints a picture that brakes my heart. Mom’s shouldn’t have to cry.

Dad’s Truck

Dad had this old Ford pick up truck. It was dark Ford blue and it had one bench seat in the front. It was a manual truck and had that really long stick that went from the floor all the way up to the stirring wheel. My brother and I would climb up into the truck, I’d help him make the first step and he would crawl across the bench till he was in his seat at the middle. He had to straddle the stick, but he was so small that he was never in the way. I would climb in next to him and buckle us both up. Dad would take his place behind the stirring wheel and start the old truck up. It would rumble to life shaking vigorously. The whole chassis vibrating beneath us. Then dad would reach over and turn on the radio, arguably the one thing in the truck that actually worked the best. 101.5 the fox would bust from the scratchy old speakers and classic rock tunes would fill the cab. Dad would push both his feet down to the floor and work the shifter till the truck buckled into motion. We would start rolling backwards down the driveway towards the old county route in which our driveway connected. In one smooth motion he would back the truck right out onto the vacant road, push both his feet down again jarring the truck from reverse into forward. We started our journey to wherever it was we were heading. It never seemed to matter where we were heading, I just never wanted for the ride to end. Me singing out the tunes with whoever was on the radio, my little brother shredding the air guitar with his little arms, and my father keeping the rhythm on the stirring wheel. The inside of the truck smelled like stale oil and dried gasoline. Every once in a while whether the windows were down or not you could smell the exhaust leaking up form the holes in the floor board of the truck. You could always find saw dust in the creases of the seat and in the door panels, and on a hot day your skin stuck to the plastic arm rest that was connected to the door. For some reason a boy could feel older sitting in that truck. Like he was a man. Not quite an equal to his father but then again when would a boy ever feel equal to his father. From the moment that truck started up, till the moment I climbed out, I was just a little older, a little wiser, and a little stronger. A place where boys could be boys. Where mother’s fears stopped at the closing of the heavy steel door and father’s advise was yelled above rock songs. Where beef jerky tasted better, sunglasses were cool, and laughing was encouraged. A place where no one would be mad at you for tracking in mud or dirt. Through the years dad would have a few different trucks, all with different memories. There will always be something about that truck that played a big role in my life as a child. RIP dad’s truck. Thanks for the memories! 

The Apology

Everyone has that one moment they remember that changed their life. Some people have more than one. But there is always that one event that really changes you. Some people go to therapy to try and interpret the way they feel. Some people choose other methods of what they may call, “healing”. I have yet to find my way to “heal”. I have found that sharing is a good start. I am not very good at sharing these things, this thing in particular, because I feel an enormous amount of shame and guilt. This is not a short story but an apology.

I started doing some intervention work at a school, trying to get kids on the straight and narrow. Seems like ages ago now, I’ve since been more successful at it. There was this one kid, he always gave me a hard time, getting into trouble all the time. Until one day I caught him doing something he shouldn’t be doing and I took a different approach. We came to an agreement, I would stop hounding him so much and he would give me the respect I deserved. From that day on, we talked all the time. Lunch time he would come sit with me and talk about life and what he wanted out of it. We talked about the regrets he had and the things he wished he could do over. I would listen and reassure him that he was young and that he had plenty of time to change things. He explained to me that he was on the wrong path and that he was in a tagging crew. A tagging crew is the first step for kids to get adjusted to gang life and prove themselves. It’s a way for gangs to teach geography. It’s actually a genius way to keep your numbers growing. Unfortunately, tagging crews claim a lot of youth. I started teaching this young man how to start slowly distancing himself from the crew without becoming dangerous for him or his family. He told me he wanted to graduate and go into the military. He thought it would be good for him and honestly, I thought it would be as well. I scheduled some meetings for him and his parents with a recruiter from a few different branches of the military. So their questions could be answered and they could make an educated decision. He and his family decided that the Marines was the best fit for him and all he had to do now was make it through school. For most of that school year he was doing so well. Making it to school on time, going to class, and doing the best he could. One day, I got called to a fight, when I got there it was my little friend and another young man. Me and another employee broke it up and brought them to separate rooms so that we could get to the bottom of what happened. I knew that this student would not lie to me so I started with him and the other employee started with the other young man. The boy told me that he made a mistake and did one more tagging favor for the crew he was no longer apart of. He said it was suppose to be easy and that after he did it they would leave him alone. I of course knew that there would always be another and another “just one more thing.” I let him continue. Turns out it wasn’t just an easy tag, this was a territory take over. The student was claiming someone else’s territory without even knowing it, or so it seemed. This could go one of two ways, the boys fought and the rivalry would be over, or the higher ups in that gang would want retaliation. If it was just between the boys then hopefully we had stopped it and the rest would over. If this was bigger picture than this boy could be in danger. Just then there was a knock and the other employee waved me out. I got outside the room and he told me that the other boy was acting tough and saying that the student I was questioning, “was going to get it.” The kid would not cool down. Finally, our superior showed up. He was not the brightest person and his ego was always bigger then he actually was. He always pretended to know the street and the gangs because he could look them up on the police area map and say them out loud. Every student knew how to play him. So, he asked the student that started the fight if he could cool off and go back to class, of course that student said yes and he was released. Then he came to the student that I had built a relationship with and asked him if he could cool off and go back to class. The student looked at me, clearly worried. I said respectfully it is my opinion that parents should come get this student. He told me no that he needed to be in school. I took him aside and told him everything that me and the other employee knew. He shut me down fast and told me that this was not gang related and that the student was just making up stories like he always did. For the rest of the day I walked the student to his classes and he stayed with me at lunch. I found out shortly after lunch that the other student was signed out of school and some other students told me that he was saying some things on social media about waiting for the boy after school. I had the boy try to get ahold of his parents and he could not. Both his parents were at work and could not be reached. Finally, as I worried, the end of the day was nearing. I went to the Principal of the school and told her everything that was happening and that he could not reach his parents. I asked to let him leave early so that the time would be different from dismissal and I was denied. I was told to leave it alone and that it wasn’t what I was paid for. I went to the boy and told him I would wait outside the school until he left but that was all I could do. I couldn’t lose this job, it was all I had. At least that’s what I thought at the time. It was a Monday, I told him to tell his parents everything and set something up to get him home safely this week.

I worried all night of course and couldn’t wait to go to school the next day to make sure he was okay. I always saw him in the morning and this day I didn’t, I just hoped it was because his parents kept him home. Then I was called to the office and I walked into a room with the Principal, my superior, the other employee from the day before and I sat down. My heart sank. The Principal told us that the student had been killed after school and that we needed to be extra vigilant that day. She was about to continue but I couldn’t even look at her, I got up and left the room. Later that day I was called to the office again, this time from the other employee that was helping me the day before. When I got there, two detectives were standing there. They asked me if I could watch a video they had, to see if I could identify anyone for them. They told me it would be hard to watch, what I didn’t know was that this was going to be my moment. My one moment that would change my life, the way I look at people, the way I slept, they way I lived. The video started and I stood there watching the footage of a camera from a house or business or something. It was the boy walking home. The boy that I tried to change, the boy that I tried to shift from a troubled life to possibly a better one. Then I watched him get put on his knees and shot. My moment was born with his death. I’m sorry.

My First Job

It was 4:30am when my dad woke me up. “Time for work son.” He said softly. It was still dark out, the moonlight shined through the plastic blinds that covered the window. It was just enough light to see the way to the light switch on the wall. I flipped the switch and the room lit up. It was cold in our little cedar cabin, it had lost all the heat from the night before. I went to the bathroom down the hall and stood up on the stool we left in there for my little brother and I to reach the sink. I had recently turned 10 years old. I was a big boy now and dad had asked me to go to work with him. It wasn’t his real job, it was a side job. My dad had to work two or sometimes three jobs at a time in order to help feed and clothe us. Those were tough times for our family. Today, the foreman needed extra hands and dad volunteered me, because that meant more money for our family. I brushed my teeth and splashed water on my rosy cheeks. I was tired but I was proud that my dad had asked me to go with him. My baby brother was about six at the time and wouldn’t leave my side and my mother worked over nights at a 24 hour diner, so we had to take my brother with us. I woke him up and helped him brush his teeth and get dressed. We had a bowl of cereal for breakfast and then I helped him get his snow suit on, before I put mine on. In Upstate New York there used to be snow on the ground anywhere from 5 to 6 months of the year. It was probably close to 0 degrees fahrenheit at 5am that morning as the three of us walked to my dad’s old Ford pickup. It had holes in the floor so even with the heater on you were still a little chilly. We drove watching the headlamps light the trucks way. My brothers head slumped over on my shoulder as he drifted in and out of sleep. My dad had the radio on low and we were listening to classic rock songs playing along the way. We pulled into a small driveway that was already full of other trucks, some much nicer than my dad’s and some just about the same. We got out of the truck and walked into the sugar shack. It was a small building that smelled like wood lacker and burning sugar. It had a place to hang up jackets and one shelf for hats or gloves. There was a table just inside the door that had one coffee pot on it and a plate of original donuts. First thing everyone did was fill a cup of coffee and take a donut before convening with the rest of the workers around the wood stove. Dad handed me a small cup of coffee and a donut to split with my brother. Then dad brought us over to the boiling pot so we could see what the result of todays work would be. The pot was a huge stainless steel bin that heated up the sap that we were about to go collect and turned it into maple syrup. It looked like someone took a kitchen sink and blew it up into an enormous version of itself. It held something like 1000 gallons of sap and the other secret ingredients that the farmer/chef would use to make his signature maple syrup. The owner was a good man that always made everyone feel important. We reached the wood stove and he greeted us both and thanked us for going to work for him today. The grown ups talked about which ridge we would be collecting on today and who would work with who. I split my donut up into pieces and my brother and I enjoyed it. When everyone had enjoyed their breakfast and coffee we all got our jackets back on and our gloves and got all bundled back up. It was light out now and you could feel the Earth start to warm under the newborn sun. The squirrels and birds were all waking up and chattering at each other. We had to get back in the truck and go up the road to the farmhouse and barn of the owner. Because there was still snow on the ground and we had to drag a 1000 gallon tank around the woods with us, we needed a team of horses and a sleigh. When we go to the barn, the owners wife had the horses all hooked up to the sleigh and we all climbed aboard. “giddy up!” The driver said and the horses pulled us forward. We road for a while until we were deep in the woods and then the sleigh stopped. “Okay boys grab a bucket and set it up among those trees over there. Then go to each grey pail on the tree and carefully take it off the hook and pour it into the white bucket. When your bucket is just full enough that you can still carry it, bring it back to the sleigh without spilling.” He said. I listened intently because I did not want to screw it up. Then we started. My brother followed me and I would lift a heavy bucket off the tree and carry it over to the white bucket and he would help me lift and pour it in. When the bucket was full to a point where we could still carry it, we would bring it back to the sleigh and one of the other guys would grab it from us and pour it into the big tank on the sleigh. We must have went to a hundred trees. “You thirsty boys?” Dad asked. He brought over a grey pail and lifted it so we could drink from it. The sap was cold and sweet but not too sweet, it

was refreshing. Of course you had to sift the liquid through your teeth so not to swallow a stick or any other particles in the sap. When all of the grey buckets were emptied into the tank on the sleigh we all boarded and the sleigh brought us all back to the sugar shack and a pump would draw all the cold sap out of the tank and into the hot bed of the boiling pot. While the sap boiled down and started to turn into maple syrup we had lunch. Dad had packed us a couple of pickle sandwiches, we didn’t always have meat for sandwiches, but we didn’t mind, pickles and mayo on bread is delicious. Dad always bought us chips though, you know those little bags of salt and vinegar chips that used to be 50 cents a bag. Bauchman was the company that made these particular bags and they were so salty and tangy. When everyone was finished eating we went out on the sleigh again and went to a different ridge. The whole process was the same. Once we were full we came back and waited for the sap to be sucked out of the tank on the sleigh and put on to boil. When it was all on to boil the owner handed my dad some money and a big bottle of maple syrup and the horses took us back to the truck. Once in the truck, heat on, soaked with sweat and melted snow, my brother and I fell asleep on each other as classic rock played in the background. We pulled into the driveway and dad switched off the truck and put his hand out and touched us both. “We are home, good job today boys, thank you for the help” He said and handed each of us ten dollars. I clutched that ten dollar bill all the way inside the house. We went back and did that job a few more times and each time I felt good. Like I was doing my part to help out our family, no mater how small of a help I actually was. It’s always special to go to work with your dad, but I will always remember my first time. Turning cold sap from trees deep in the woods, so deep that you needed a team of horses to get there, into warm, delicious, maple syrup!

The Tie

A tie is a very important piece to an ensemble. Choosing the right tie for any given occasion takes a lot of thought, maybe more so than most even really ever think. A tie can give you confidence, it can make people laugh, it can lighten the occasion, or it can be too loud and turn people away. A tie has the job of making the wearer more confident and the observer more comfortable. If you get it wrong you could be in for a long day. I have many tie’s, some for special events, some for work, some for funny Christmas parties. I also have a special tie. A tie my grandfather wore. Its a blue tie with gold geometrics on it and little crosses all over it. He wore it on Sunday’s when he went to church. When my grandfather passed away, it was given to me. It still smelled like him so I never wore it. I would go into my closet when I was having a bad day and smell it and think of him. Think of all the advice he would hand out whether you wanted to hear it or not. I would sometimes pull it out of the closet and put it on when I was getting dressed for a special occasion and think, “I’ll take grandpa with me today.” right before I left the house I would get this fear that it would smell like me instead of him and I’d put it back in the closet. Well, over time it did lose grandpa’s smell and started to smell like me. That’s how life goes, you take what you can from the generation above you and you make it your own. You hope to do them justice by doing something as simple as wearing their tie. Then after awhile you realize it’s not their tie anymore, it’s yours. Think about that when you are choosing your tie for the day. Think about the person you want to be while you wear it. Someday, while wearing a tie, you might give the right advice at the right time. Someday you might leave your tie to someone special. They may leave it in their closet to remind them of you until your smell is gone and your tie, will become their tie. Your advice, will become their advice. The tie is more important than just it’s color, or if it matches your ensemble. The tie is a legacy, your legacy. Built on the confidence you feel while wearing it and the comfort of those around you while you are wearing it. A tie, your tie, my tie, their tie, our tie. 

The Forgotten

The Forgotten By Anthony Gallucci

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.”

I say this to myself every morning before I get out of bed. Then I pray to the almighty to save me from the life I am currently stuck. You see, I have always been a God fearing man, even in the face of adversity. I often times lay awake and wonder why I haven’t taken my life and ended this torture. Then I remember I don’t want to go to Hell, because that would just be redundant. I tucked my bible back into my book bag and unzipped my tent. I stepped out onto the cold grey pavement that is Los Angeles. The smell is awful, others like me, forgotten at the bottom of the barrel. We stick together because although it may not seem it, it is much safer to stick together as a community. Some stick to themselves, others like to walk around and chat and trade things. That’s our currency out here, trade. It’s like Paradise Lost or Bladerunner, or some other dystopian society. Some say the worst part of being homeless is

sleeping in a cold, damp, stinky, tent or make shift shelter. Some say it’s the hunger. Some say it’s the fear. Not for me, for me its being forgotten. Left in a wasteland where no one from my old life even thinks of me. We take for granted the, “good mornings”, and the “have a good day’s”. I would give anything to browse Facebook and see what everyone’s eating and what everyone is randomly passionate about all of a sudden. Instead, I have to go to the back of the KFC and wait for the little girl that works there to bring out leftovers and throw them away. She is nice, she always waves at me. She is a tiny little thing, yet she wrestlers those giant bags of heavy bones and wasted food. I admire her. Then she wipes her brow with her forearm and waves to me. I wave back and wait for her to go back inside, I don’t want to scare her, and I don’t want her to smell me. It’s so embarrassing. Once she is back inside I go to the bin and carefully open the bag so I don’t make a mess. It’s hard because I’m so hungry and the smell is so good...considering. However, I need to control myself, I wouldn’t want to make a mess for that nice little girl to have to clean. Besides I may live like an animal and I may look and smell like one, but my mother raised me better than that. I open the CVS bag that I keep clean to store food and grab as many as the good pieces I can find. I will eat some and trade others for books, water, and other things. Once my bag is full and stowed in my book bag, then I grab some of the pieces still left in the garbage and eat some. Then I neatly tie up the bag as she had it and off I go.

How did I get like this? One thing after another. I started with an amazing family, a great upbringing. I went to and graduated from high school. Then I went to college and got a degree in Theatre. I was good too! After college I got a job here and a job there but mostly I was just waiting tables. I complained back then about what I was doing or one could say “not” doing. I had enough money for my apartment, for food, for my dog, for going out to bars and having fun. I still complained I never had enough. I was always unsatisfied with what I had. Then one day a pandemic hit the world and everything changed. I lost my job and luckily I got to go on unemployment. The government tried to help all of us for awhile but soon the help ran out. Soon I could’t pay for my apartment and they kicked me out on the street. I sold everything I had and me and my dog bought a tent and we pitched it wherever we could. I never had the heart to tell my family what was happening, the thought of their disappointment would kill me faster than being hungry out here. I sometimes wonder if they are still looking for me or if they had a funeral and everything. I sometimes plan my own funeral, or what it may have been like if they did have one for me. There is time for stuff like that out here. Anyway, soon I couldn’t feed me and my dog so I left him at a shelter and went on my own. The woman said, “He will be right here waiting for you.” It’s been about a year now. I’ve tried to apply for jobs but everything is online now and well, there is no internet on skid row. I go to places and knock and ask and they yell and holler and tell

me to get away from their business before they call the cops. One time I even showered at a shelter and went to an interview that this pastor set up for me at a soup kitchen. I was a good cook at one point and he thought this would be right up my alley. I arrived at the interview early and when the interviewer got there he handed me a bowl of soup and said, “have a great day and come back anytime.” I tried to tell him that I was his interview and he took me by the arm firmly and brought me to the end of the table and whispered through gritted teeth. “Look buddy there are a lot of you to feed today and I don’t need any shit, so scram.” Then he smiled and said loudly, “Have a great day sir!” What could I do? I left and went back to my tent. A lot of the people in tents next to me sit on corners and ask for money, I can’t even call my parents to tell them how my life has ended up, how could I beg for money from strangers? Which brings me to the end of my story. It was another day of the same thing. Walking back to my tent to trade some of the chicken I got from KFC. Then I saw it, a lotto ticket on the ground. There were always scratched lotto tickets thrown about. This is one of the dirtiest cities in America. For some reason this time I had a feeling in my stomach that I should pick this one up. I thought, “Maybe this will be my day!” I picked it up and it wasn’t scratched yet. I used my nail and scratched off the ticket and it was a winner! I was a winner! $600 dollars and a second chance at life. I can get my dog back and get on a bus and go home. I dropped my bag and ran to the bodega and handed in the

ticket. I had a big smile on my face and the shop keeper counted out $600 dollars and handed it to me and said, “Lucky day!” I couldn’t even say anything back. I ran out of the shop and all the way to the shelter where I left my Buddy. I ran up to the clerk and she said, “Sorry sir we don’t have anything for you here, we are not a shelter for humans only for animals.” I explained to her that I was here to pick up my best friend that I had to leave here about a year ago. The same one that she said would be waiting for me. “His name is Buddy, he is a small Shepard mix, tan with a white belly.” She turned from the desk and went through one of those doors you see at the butcher shop that swings both ways. I waited with excitement in my belly. All was going to change, this was a sign! She came back to the desk but she changed. She was dressed like Death, sickle and all. “I’m sorry sir your dog was taking up space and no one chose to adopt him so he was put down to make room. I’m sorry, he is gone.” Death said. I started to cry and Death reached her arms over the desk and started to wrap them around me to comfort me. I woke up, gasping for air, staring at the ceiling of my tent. I could see my breathe. I hurried out of my tent and stood straight up looking up at the stars and touching my chest to make sure I was still alive. I was. I reached back into my tent and grabbed my bag and unzipped a pocket that had some change in it. I grabbed a few quarters I was saving in case I had to do laundry for a job interview. I also grabbed my bible and I ran to the end of skid row where there was an old payphone that still worked. I slid

the quarters inside, the operator answered. “Please dial the number you are trying to call or stay on the line for more options...” I dialed the number I wanted and waited. “...Connection to New York will cost 25 more cents...” The operator said. I didn’t have 25 more cents, just my luck, what would I do now? I looked down at my feet with tears in my eyes and right before I decided to hang up the phone, the moon shined and something sparkled on the ground and there was a quarter...heads up...glowing in the moonlight. I picked it up and slid it in. “Connecting.” Ring...Ring...Ring...”Hello?” ....”Mom?”

The Covid Experience!

At the beginning of this covid scenario, I never thought it would last this long. I was excited to be stuck inside working from home and working in my nice work shirts and sweatpants. There was a lot of work to do in order to ensure that all the kids would still get an education. It was fun, like a mystery that needed solving. Then the fear set in, but not about getting sick, about not having a job to come back to after summer vacation. No one contacted me about my contract or even hinted at whether I was safe or not. Of course everyone was just trying to finish the now broken 2019-2020 school year. So I had to consider the fact that I may have to go home, that the school maybe didn’t need two Dean’s for an online environment. It was nearing the end of May and my roommate at the time and I decided it wasn’t fair to him to have to pay for another month if I was going to end up going home. So we moved him into a different apartment he could afford on his own. I ended up moving in with my brother. The apartment had a deal going on that basically allowed you to move out for free within a certain time if you realized you couldn’t stay due to covid. Since I was still uncertain it was a good deal for me. At the end of August I received a new contract for the 2020-2021 school year. I was relieved and thankful. Fast forward now I am sitting here writing this post and many of my close family have suffered through the covid-19 virus. They all survived, Thank God. There is a lot to complain about including the fact that I need to go on an adventure and I can’t. There is also a lot to be thankful for. At least I have a lot to be thankful for. I turn 33 next week and I wonder what my 33rd year on this earth will have in store for me. I heard someone say once that no matter how bad today gets, you fight through it, because tomorrow could be the best day of your life. I’m chasing days to find my best day.

If you could…

I recently got myself a book with 301 writing prompts inside. I want to keep writing everyday so I get better and so I keep my mind sharp. Today’s prompt was, “If you could relive a day which would it be?” If you could would you? What day would it be? It was hard for me and I had to think about it for awhile. I came up with a long list of days I wish I could relive all for different reasons. Things I could have fixed, things I wish I had done, things I wished I hadn’t. I really thought about writing one of the negative days I wish I could go back to and change what happened but then I released something. If I went back and changed something, I may not be where I am right now. Then I thought, would that be such a bad thing? It really got my mind spinning about all the things and all the possibilities. Then I decided to write about a day that I didn’t want to change. One that in my mind was a perfect day. On spring break you hear a lot of people say they want to go on a cruise or to the beach somewhere. I didn’t as a kid. I wanted to go on our annual four wheel excursion up at my hunting camp. Dad would take us and we would stay in camp for a few days and ride the four wheelers all over the place. The day I remember in particular was a few years in to this tradition. We finally had two four wheelers so I drove one and my dad drove the other with my little brother on the back. We would drive all over the wood lot and then everyday we would take one big trip to a diner for lunch. There were a few different ways to get there and we would take a different way each day and explore. On this day we were driving and it was hot out and we were in the mountains in April mind you. But it was so hot we were in light shirts. The tops of my hands got badly sunburnt. We turned onto the last trail before coming out at the diner for lunch and the trees were so over grown that no sunlight could get in. The whole road was covered in snow and on the sides of the road the snow was 2 or 3 feet deep. It was like a cool oasis from the sun. We had to stop and check it out. We cooled off on the weird winter trail for a little and played in the snow and then went to lunch. These trips were always fun and a great bonding time with dad and my brother. Spending the nights around the wood stove, playing cards and listening to rock and roll. Those are some of the days I would relive! How about you?

Flying out of 2020…

Flying out of 2020 and right into 2021. This year has been such a drag, Virus, deaths, dying local and small businesses, money issues and the list goes on. Makes me think of the old saying, “It can only go up from here.” Right? Well maybe if you all join with me and try your hardest to see the positive, with all our willpower combined we can have a hopeful and bright 2021. Looking back on all the bad of 2020, I did have some major positives. My grandmother of 89 years old survived Covid-19! Huge win! I wrote and published a book which gave me the courage and positivity that I needed to write and publish my second! I am in the midst of continuing that path towards my third. I wrote a children’s book that is currently being illustrated by a very talented illustrator. This will be my next publication. I focused on my health and have lost 12 pounds on the road to 20! I have quit some bad habits and began some new good ones! My family is safe and healthy! I have a great family, good friends, a roof over my head, enough money to keep me eating and pay my bills, and I try to always have a smile on my face. I tried an experiment yesterday and I smiled, through my mask obviously, at every person that I made eye contact with. About 95% of the thirty or so people that I smiled at, smiled back. 95%! Sometimes we just need a weirdo in a medical mask to smile at us to make us smile amidst all the negative! I hope that God blesses all of you reading along my adventure and keeps you and yours safe and healthy! 2021…”It can only go up from here.”

At Peace

Life can become very busy. We work our jobs to make money so we can survive and we spend time worrying if we will make enough. We worry about our friends and family and the struggles that they have to endure as well. Our minds become these highways full of traffic and even if you're a positive person, it can all pile up into a ball of stress. I try to be a positive person, wear my smile under my covid-19 mask and try to put a smile on others faces as well. However, I could feel all the stress building up from life in Los Angeles. Being stuck inside and worrying about spending money and all those worries I listed. So I escaped, I packed my bags and ran to the one place that always relaxes me and makes me feel peaceful again…home. Yesterday I walked the hundred yards from the back of my house to the river. I just sat there and listened to the birds and watched the river flow by. I was filled with this fullness, it was so beautiful. Sometimes you just got to slow down and take a breath and remember to appreciate everything. Life gets going so fast and before you know it the water you were just starring at is now brand new. As I sat there all alone, I thought about my grandparents, my family, my mom and dad, my little brother, and I began to really appreciate all of them and the little memories that came to mind of each of them. Being out there in the woods, on the river, I am refueled and feeling happy!

Staying Sharp

I would say that as a writer you need to keep your brain sharp, but really as a human you should always strive to keep your mind sharp. A great way to learn things and new words, is to try to complete a crossword puzzle. According to the Alzheimer’s Association, a daily dose of crossword puzzles is a significant way to keep the brain active and sharp, especially as you grow older. Since I was a young boy I have been interested in crossword puzzles. When we would visit my dad’s parents, my grandparents, they would always have a crossword out. They would sit and do them together. I thought that was so romantic, and I truly believe that they are so sharp today because they did the crossword together everyday for years. Not to mention their bond as life partners is very strong.

Although we all have been doing crosswords on our own for years, recently my family has been doing crosswords together. Working in a group can improve the speed of thinking and talking. Solving puzzles in a group can also strengthen social bonds. I think it has helped us bond more. Half of us on the west coast and half on the east. What we do is we get on the phone once a day to discuss the crossword which is fun but it also allows a chance for us to bring up other conversations. “Do you talk to your family everyday?” The answer to that is “yes”, and that is thanks to the crossword.

As a writer, I have found that my arsenal of vocabulary has greatly increased and my knowledge of history, pop culture, literature, etc, have also increased. In short, I just want to encourage everyone to always try to learn as much and as often as you can. It will benefit your health and also benefit you as a human. It does not have to be crossword puzzles but it is a good place to start. Don’t forget to stay positive and test negative!

Get Into The Spirit

Some of you know that I am a Dean of Student Culture at a high school in Los Angeles. My job has many facets including but not limited to: Attendance counseling, discipline, school culture, gang prevention and intervention, restorative justice and in some cases student counseling. It has been a tough year for everyone, but I think my friends in education would agree with me when I say that it has been very hard for the kids. Social interaction is at an all time low creating poor home conditions, social emotional disorders, depression, and anxiety. Some of my student case load in fact are students running a full household because their parents can’t cope with the times at hand. That’s a lot of pressure for a young person, especially one dealing with their own covid experiences. SO in order to respond to the above with some positivity, I will start by saying, THANK YOU to all of my colleagues in education who have dedicated their time and efforts into battling the above. You truly are essential workers! You may not get tips for appreciation but know that you are all due some major karma points. For my little gift to myself, I left LA and came home to my little cabin in the woods in Upstate New York. I have been writing more in this quiet 100 acre wood. It’s stress free, and away from the hustle and bustle of the big city. I am still working with my case load of students over winter break but now I get to send them pictures of snow they have never seen, and pictures of this remote area which they can’t comprehend. Last night I sent them the above picture of my Christmas tree and reminded them that although this has been a tough year, you can always find something that makes you smile. For me, it’s this little Christmas tree, in a small handmade (by my father) cabin, in the deep woods, with my parents. Last night with all the Christmas lights on and the smell of the tree filling our living room I was reminded that life still has amazing, beautiful moments that take your breathe away. Even amidst a crippling, global pandemic. Find your moments as we see the end of 2020, so that we can bring in 2021 with a positive outlook. Thank you again to all fellow educators, and remember, stay positive, test negative!

The Covid Travel Experience

On Thanksgiving Day 2020, I set out on a journey from Los Angeles, California to Ogdensburg, New York. I started by Ubering to LAX, a cost of which used to be in the $20 dollar range, now in the $40’s and $50’s because of Covid-19. The driver was very nice and his car was very clean. I arrived at 9:45pm for an 11:56 departure. LAX was all but empty with less than half of its normal capacity of travelers. The plane I was on from LAX to Chicago O’Hare was pretty full but everyone that was a single flyer had the middle seat empty for space and everyone wore their mask. The stewards on the plane gave each of us a sanitizing wipe to wipe down our seat with and then came around to collect the trash before take off. The pilot of the plane came out to the main cabin and told us all about his plane; weight, speed at which we would be traveling, height at which we would be traveling, when we would arrive, and weather over each major city from LA to Chicago. He told us where he was from and all about his wife and four kids. It all seemed like the crew dared him to speak publicly or he lost a bet because he was not very good at it. He had his whole speech written on a piece of paper that he kept looking at and saying, “oh yea and…” Then he got to his Covid-19 protocol and I realized that this was no lost bet or dare. This man took his job and the safety of his crew very seriously. As the jokes and comic relief began to fade and his expectations came too light. He told us a story of a passenger that was not compliant with his “mask wearing” expectations and I quote, “His travel experience did not end well for him. So I ask all of you to be kind and respectful to your fellow passengers and to my crew.” I was happy to have witnessed this moment, it took some of my stress of traveling during a pandemic away. He must address the cabin like that on every flight, I was honored to be flying with him.

I landed in Chicago at 5:45am and was in no rush to make my next flight as it didn’t leave for another 8 hours. That’s right, I had an 8 hour layover in Chicago O’Hare airport. I have been to that airport many times and know my way around pretty well. I walked around the almost completely empty airport and looked for cool things. Everything was either closed or just opening so I found a quiet corner and fell asleep. After my nap I had some coffee and wrote a little, watched half a movie and fell asleep yet again. I had never seen O’Hare that empty before. The corner I found to sleep in was completely empty from when I first found it in the morning till the moment I boarded. At around 12:40pm a woman came to me and said, “Anthony?” and I said “yes”, waking from my afternoon scout nap and she told me that I would be the only passenger on the flight to Ogdensburg. I had the fifty person plane all to myself. I felt like a celebrity. All and all I felt that I was safe the entire trip, I did have some travel luck, no crowds at the airports, plane to myself, etc. I think that I came out unscathed by the pandemic. I am getting tested after the mandatory three day quarantine. If you have to travel, don’t forget to bring some sanitizer, always wear your mask, and bring some wipes to wipe chairs and surfaces. Everything can be done safely with time and logic. Don’t forget to stay positive and test negative!!!

New Adventure on the channel!

In this little adventure I took you for my ride to work and showed you my neighborhood, my old neighborhood, the Staples center the LA Convention center, Downtown LA, the Pasadena tunnels, and historic Highland Park. I hope you enjoy a piece of LA if you have never been here before!

The American Adventure Channel!

To see the awesome video of the LA River trail…Just smash the button!

Bringing all of my crazy, awesome, beautiful adventures right to your home! I have always been an adventure junkie and I thought during this time of covid a lot of people are having a hard time getting out to do things. So I will do things for you, film them, and give you a chance to at least see some beautiful stuff! Thanks for everyones support!!

Cascade Audiobook and update!

Well it is finished and off for review. The Cascade audiobook will be available soon. The audiobook features my brother as the reader. My brother is a talented VoiceOver artist and has done other audiobooks before. I am so excited for people to hear the rich tones and voices he uses to capture the very feeling I was going for. It’s dark, ominous, and foreboding. If you are interested in my brother and his amazing work then click the button above and head to his Instagram!! As for me, if anyone was wondering where I’ve been, work started again and it has been weeks full of long days. However, two amazing things have happened, firstly, I have finally hired an illustrator for my children’s book. I can’t wait to reveal the cover. Also, I am about half way through the third edit of my next book, The Donnelly Brothers. I am so excited for y’all to read that one. It’s another crime novel, but this time it’s based in New York City! Make sure to give my little brother some love! Keep checking back for the audiobook!!