I will never forget you

Facing Death is never easy. Anyone who tells you otherwise is full of it. I've faced death in many of it's faces. I've seen quite violent death, that often could have been avoided if one had taken care. In my late teens, I often casually worked for a local funeral home whose owners my family have been friendly with for years. This funeral home buried my oft lamented grandfather. Facing death is never, ever easy but over time one does become numb...until the wound cuts too deep.
By the new year, the world will have lost another two human beings who were loved every well. One is older lady who spoiled me as a child and was a dear friend of my mother; the other certainly will be taken before his time.
'Auntie' Shirley Van Tankeren grew up with my mum from the time they were youngsters. Shirley helped my mum when she was going through her rough patch. They corresponded often. My family and I often visited Shirley, her husband and children when we went to Britain on holiday. It was accepted custom. During my childhood and teen years, Shirley would spoil us something rotten and we loved her for it. I loved hearing her reminisce with my folks about their time in Britain before I was born. Then Shirley's son, Leo, known to us affectionately as 'Archer', informed my mum that her best friend was not long for this world. Mum was torn; visiting her would be a financial strain, especially before Christmas. Mum asked my opinion which I said: "If you believe for a second that you would regret NOT going, pack your bags and go." So she went and they had a blast. Mum brought her a ray of joy that went unmatched.
Like my mum, I also refuse to be defeated by circumstance. During my mother's visit to Britain to say goodbye to her friend, I received news that a friend that knew for only a few years had given up his fight with cancer. Given my own health scare and my parent's own fight with cancer; this news stunned and depressed me but I refused to give up hope. Like Admiral Kirk, I do not believe in the 'No-Win' scenario. I expressed my grief and shock on Christopher Schenk's Facebook page; many of our mutual friends 'liked' my heartfelt comments.
I've only known Chris for a few years but I knew I would eventually warm up to him. We met at Old Academy Players in East Falls. I first thought him a bit to nerdy at first (and I admit that I was slightly jealous of his choice of girlfriend at the time) but I quickly appreciated his organizational skills, his humor, his wit and above all, his patience. We have done quite a few shows together and had lots of fun both on and off-stage. Chris has seen parts of me, few will ever see...depending on how much I am drinking at the time. He even directed me during the inaugural One-Act Festival, an event Chris created. (and whether he likes it or not, will probably be named in his honor.)
When the opportunity came to visit him before it was too late, I grabbed it with both hands. One of the Old Academy directors offered to drive out to visit Chris. She also intimated that she needed her moral support from somebody. That somebody turned out to be me.
I didn't know what to expect when I saw Chris but from reading his recent Facebook posts I knew there would be a man using a serious amount of inner strength. I was certainly surprised by how Chris looked but I was certainly struck by his own fortitude. Here was a man who was only interested in hearing the good and happy memories and faced down his own formidable father when plans seemed to become too grandiose.
I shall miss both when they are gone but like my grandfather and other departed friends, they will never, ever be forgotten.

A good day after all

Those who know about my recent trials and tribulations, will appreciate that I scored a minor victory over governmental bureaucracy today. Those who haven't heard, please stayed tuned as I will be providing a full report soon (tentatively titled, "Adventures in Well-Fair").
So after trudging on my way home this morning I received a reply email from Alan Tu, the editor who covers the Mt. Airy/Chestnut Hill section of Newsworks. I received a commission to do a business analysis piece which I immediately began work on. To celebrate these minor victories, I decided to also headed to downtown Philadelphia to another tobacconist that I frequent, Holt's.
I knew Holt's would be hosting Rocky & Nish Patel and Nimish Desai of Rocky Patel Cigars as they featured some of their newly released products. Many will know I am a BIG fan of Rocky Patel cigars, I even had the chance to visit his factory in Honduras.
So I indulged myself with a few selections while attempting to keep within a modest budget. I also completed a trifecta. Knowing that Rocky is a fan of Cricket, I presented the trio with a season ball for them to sign. All three fellows were quite impressed.
While at Holt's I was informed that one of my pipes, that I had sent away to be repaired, had finally arrived. There went my modest budget, but sometimes you got to splurge a little. I believe the ladies call this, Retail Therapy; apparently you can never put a price tag on happiness.
I am a huge fan of Rocky's Olde World Reserve in a Corojo wrapper. In fact, I got my father off of the Lord Beaconsfield Rounds that my grandfather smoked with the OWR-C. Admittedly, the Beaconsfield Rounds in a Double Claro wrapper are a sentimental favorite because of the dear departed 'Captain'. (Full disclosure: the first cigar that ever made me feel ill was The Edge Maduro by Rocky Patel, a potent stick especially on an empty stomach.) But for this lunch break, I tried the Vintage 2003 Cameroon, it wasn't too bad actually. I have never been a fan of Cameroon wrappers, I find them too fragile but this held up well and was decently flavorful.
If you've ever met Rocky and the boys, you'll be pleasant shocked by how easygoing and down-to-earth these guys are. They enjoy hearing from their clients and how they can make their product better.
But the greater treasure was still to come; as I quietly enjoyed my cigar debating & planning my next moves, generally enjoying the flow of conversation around plus a few nibbles, I saw a oddly familiar older gentleman some in and talk to Rocky. It was Bernie Parent.
Those unfamiliar with professional hockey should know that Mr. Parent is a Hall of Famer and something of a sports legend, a practical god in the city of Philadelphia. In fact, no one in the Flyers can wear is number 1 jersey because it is retired with the team. Parent played Goaltender for the Philadelphia Flyers during their earlier glory days and is quite respected by almost everyone in his sport. As the saying goes, 'Only the Lord Saves more than Bernie Parent.'
I immediately texted some friends of mine who are hockey fans. Both were suitably impressed. My best friend who played Hockey during our high school years declared his jealousy of my situation.
I am not unfamiliar with meeting well known celebrities. Like Rocky, Parent is another very friendly, humble gentleman. It was a pleasure to speak and share some time smoking a cigar with him. I understand why the Flyers organization named Parent as their 'Ambassador of Hockey'. Just so you know I am not BS-ing you, one of Parent's co-authors of "Journey Through Risk and Fear", Dean Smith, took a photo of me with Mr. Parent that you see above.
So not a bad little day after all.

Why I like small businesses...

Naturally, there are plenty of answers to this question. Many like this are just sound bites. For me, it is the human connection that really puts in all into perspective. Sure, the people who work at the big box stores deserve my cash now and then...and they sometimes get it. I sympathize with those in the corporate rat race, I was there once.
But take for example the latest offering at my local bookshop (seen here at left), The Spiral Bookcase; according to proprietor Ann Tetreault, in response to Amazon's latest Price Check policy, local author Andrew Ervin will pay $5 to ANYONE who buys his book, "Extraordinary Renditions" at her shop from now until Dec. 24...and that's one of many treasures to be had in this special store.
But that is not all that we find, sometimes a little stop can lead to a general improvement in well-being. On Dec. 7, I stopped in one of my favorite little gastronomic hideaways (some of the selection seen at right), the Chestnut Hill Cheese Shop. No, it's nothing like this Cheese Shop. I stopped in during a pretty dreary day. One of the employees was sharpening a knife, looking how I felt. I asked how he was and received the response of 'Fair to moderate'. In my experience, this sort of answer meant that it was indeed not such a good day after all...I told him so. After a few minutes of commiserating, both of our demeanors improved significantly.
Another reason I enjoy this shop, besides the wide selection of everything, is this policy that is posted at the cash register. This policy can be seen here in this photo. They WILL NOT SERVE you if you are gabbing on a cell phone. I certainly respect them for their principled stance on good manners.
Which leads me to my next business, BnB International Cigars, is another one of those places that serves to rejuvenate my well-being. (Yes, I am aware of the dangers of smoking. Let's move on.) I arrived here after stopping at the cheese shop and few other places. Happily, the shop was hosting an event featuring cigars from La Flor Dominicana. I have known their very able, hard-working and personable sales representative, Jon, for some time. (Both he and some of his LFD product can be found at bottom right.)
I admit that LFD is not my favorite cigar. That is not to say that their product is no good. It is very consistent, quality made and very, very affordable. But much of their product, I often find to be too full or too bold for my personal tastes. I was pleasantly surprised by their Cameroon selections but that is review for another time.
BnB is definitely a home away from home for almost anyone within reason. Conversation flows forth from a variety of experiences and spectrum. Following the unspoken rules of respecting others' opinions and never, EVER over-inflate your own importance and you'll be fine whether to sit in the front of the house or in their sizable rear lounge. If you can't fit in here, you can't fit anywhere.
In the end, what I really want from a store is the human touch, an attention to detail and human nature that is rapidly disappearing from the general landscape. That is why I like small businesses.

Happy Hangover

Yesterday, I celebrated my 30th Birthday or as my mother likes to remind me, the day that I ruined her girlish figure. But in all honesty, I know some people wouldn't consider me 'old' just yet but it has been granted that I have reached a significant milestone. It is an age I quite frankly never thought I would make it to, but that's a discussion for another time.
I am thankful to my friends and family for a great day and for being there throughout the year, especially when I needed them most.
Pursuant to promises made on my historic marker, I'll be bringing you more news, humor and other tidbits for hopefully decades to come.

Bring on the Holiday Battle

I've noticed that the more consumer-friendly a holiday is; the catchier the songs are celebrating it. I do not like them overlapping too much either. I once snapped at a co-worker for playing Christmas music BEFORE Halloween.
With the biggest consumer holiday upon us, I spent Thanksgiving dinner explaining the joys of Radio Hanukkah to my family. They are all Irish Catholic; I was raised in that faith as well but I am a fan of music in general and always curious about other cultures. I even found a CD of Hanukkah music. My family were shocked by my purchase. After cracking a joke about the CD only being $2, they relented.
It was this conversation that began this thought process. Irish get their culture out in public in March. Any love song will do in February. Patriotism runs rampant in the summer time.
But I'm surprised there are no college sports-style fight songs leading up to Black Friday or perhaps some thrash metal as the shoppers scramble for the $2 waffle iron they do not know how to use. It would seem only right considering the ridiculous tactics people used to get the gift of the moment which they will forget come New Year's Day, if that long. Nothing says 'Peace on Earth and Goodwill Toward Men' like getting pepper sprayed while holiday shopping for your family.

The end of an American Royal and strange parallels

It is often the brightest places that cast the darkest shadows...I have just read the Grand Jury Report on the Jerry Sandusky Scandal at my Alma Mater, The Pennsylvania State University,. I have not felt this perfect storm of violent emotion since the early days of my journalism career when I covered the Catholic Abuse Scandal more than six years ago. I am also struck by the parallels between the two events and how faintly I am involved or connected to them.
Much has already been said by the talking heads (No, not those Talking Heads, they haven’t been relevant since the 1980s.) Some of the observation as been scathing; some of it has been heartfelt. Now people have been asking me for my two cents about the issue. In fact, I spoke with a reporter at the Philadelphia Inquirer for a story coming out in the Sunday edition. ( I’ll add the link when it arrives.)

The question that the reporter asked was “did I feel ‘betrayed’” by the situation or anyone involved. The answer was “No.” The only way I would feel betrayed is if I were a victim that spoke up and found nothing being done. I would describe my feeling as ‘profound disappointment’. After reading the report, I would add ‘Righteous Indignation’. By page 6, I found myself wishing Sandusky tortured in ways that would make the Spanish Inquisition blush.

This is not my first time as a spectator at the sexual abuse scandal rodeo…perhaps a poor choice of words but you get the picture, if you don’t, read this report. In my short career, I’ve covered some tragic stories like this and some great heartwarming pieces like this. Despite my emotionally calloused exterior, child abuse/sex scandals never EVER get any easier and are the only reason I still support the death penalty.

As a young boy, I was taught to respect and listen to my elders. As I was educated in Catholic institutions, this included those in Holy Orders. It was also my elders (grandfather, uncles, cousins, father, etc.) who introduced me to College Football, specifically Penn State. Coach Joe Paterno was, like in many homes, a revered figure. I wouldn’t necessarily describe him, as others have, as a god per se. But I will admit that Paterno is the closest thing to royalty in America. Much like our parish priest was the embodiment of Christian behavior; JoePa was the physical embodiment of integrity, leadership, respect.

It was later on in life that I would discover that both are merely human. I survived a near-miss, almost being a part of the Catholic Abuse Scandal, after an incident that could be seen as an innocent gesture made me feel very uncomfortable. It was right before a Mass that I was serving; my friend and fellow altar server that day informed me of certain rumors concerning the priest celebrating the Mass that day. At first, I shrugged off the warning as ludicrous but this priest put me and my friend side by side, patting our faces; I saw something in his own facial expression that cause to decide never to serve the altar at Mass ever again. I would later find out this particular priest was named in the Philadelphia Grand Jury report.

I met JoePa once during my time at the Main Campus at Penn State. I was working at McClanahan’s. It was just after the end of Football Season but not quite the end of the school year. I saw Paterno enter in the side entrance, to the Penn State Room, of the building. I was busy cleaning arranging shelves. While I still respected and was a little in awe of the man, I had a job to do so I continued doing it. I noticed that when students saw JoePa they would hide from him but the locals would go up and chat with him. He would chat with them. (I wonder how they treat him now.) I realized then that he was just as much a ‘townie’ as they were. As I continued on with my work, Paterno walked up to me.
“Hey kid, where you hiding the papers,” he asked me.
“They are up front Mr. Paterno,” I replied, pointing the way out to him.
“Thanks,” he said and walked off. That was that.
(For the record, in addition to the New York Times, he purchased a half-gallon of V-8 juice. While in the checkout line he signed two autographs as well; one for the checkout girl, the other for the bag boy. He was quite gracious and didn’t seem annoyed by the request.)

What’s the point in my telling you these stories? Well, I feel the focus of this scandal has been shifted to the most likely scapegoat and not the actual guilty party as this piece points out.
Another who should be also in the spotlight (and also recently lost his job because of the Sandusky Scandal) has been rather absent of the discussion.

It took some time but I learned that former PSU President Graham Spanier is a schmuck. Like my earlier naivete about my parish priest, it was a friend (and later roommate) who warned me not to trust the Chief Executive of the University.
“Why do you hate Spanier so much?” I asked Ben Bullock as we walked to the gym for our daily workout session.
“He’s an idiot,” Ben replied.
“In what way,” I asked.
“Well, every year, he always says that he will reduce the influence of Greek Life on Campus Culture. Do you see any reduction of influence?” Ben replied.
As we walked past some fraternity houses and dorm rooms with sorority letters in the window, I came to realize that Ben was right. “And besides,” Ben continued. “Spanier’s own daughter is pledging to become a sorostitute.” (Sorostitute is, of course, being the derogatory term for Sorority members.)

In the final analysis, I hope Sandusky, Curley and Schultz go to prison for their part in this scandal and cover-up. Spanier’s dismissal is also a fitting punishment because as the head of the school, the buck ultimately stopped with him. How McQueary still has a job is beyond me. At 6’4” and 28 years of age, McQueary was more than a match for the older Sandusky, no matter how fit he was. This incident that he witnessed happened while I was still a student there. McQueary’s decision to run way will probably continue to haunt him. I don't care how much I respect someone; if I caught them diddling a child, asses will be kicked and police will be called that I guarantee.

But the question of everyone’s lips, “What About JoePa?”. I do not condone the student rioting (with or without the media’s help) that occurred this week; although I do understand it. I no longer wonder why he never named Sandusky as his successor. After reading the report, JoePa did nothing LEGALLY wrong. He’s morally culpable as all hell; Paterno publicly admitted that he ‘should have done more’ but should that make him a demon in the eyes of man? For some yes, for me, no. While I do not agree with his actions, if I were to see him in public, I’d still offer to buy him a drink or even shake his hand.

I agree with my former ethics professor, Russell Frank. Despite everything that is currently happening, I am still proud to be an alumnus of Penn State University. It was the faculty and my friends there, not the athletic department, which helped mold me into the gentleman that I am today. My former co-worker and fellow Alum, Joe Turkos agrees, “We should be proud of our school. As graduates, we need to advocate the purging of the university of those who allowed this to happen, while not forgetting the real victims.”

I’ve met abuse victims; they and their stories are not easy to forget.

The unsung heroes of Election Day

“Is this where I come to vote?”

This was the most common question asked by voters as they arrived to Bethany Lutheran Church on Martin and Pechin Sts. Many polling places were suddenly changed which may cause a low turn-out election year to sink even lower. My own polling place, where I had been going since I was 18, had been moved one block away.

The City Commissioners in their ‘infinite wisdom’(and are up for re-election) said the changes were due in large part to accommodate handicapped voters under the Americans with Disability Acts regulations, but were only announced two weeks ago without much publicity. I had seen signs in my neighborhood but I was too busy to really pay attention. I never really thought about it until a friend informed me that his polling place had changed. That same day I received a letter in the mail informing me of the change.

In the 21st Ward, where I lived, the local community weekly blamed the Democratic Ward Leader for the fiasco. The man in question, Lou Agre, was stung by the accusation.

“I tried telling them that this decision had nothing to do with me but they wouldn’t listen,” said Agre, who I randomly ran into while on my way to vote. He was checking on campaign and poll workers.

The second most common action taken by campaign workers posted at Bethany Lutheran was directing voters to the correct door to enter to the polls. Many tried to climb stairs that would have lead into the church instead of the basement.

“We should have put an arrow pointing the correct route,” said Paul Kerstetter. “Does anyone have a piece of chalk or something?”

Sadly, no one had a piece but with the lack of turnout; it seemed hardly necessary. Kerstetter was out stumping for the Green Party Candidate of Sheriff, the only non-major party candidate on the ballot. Kerstetter was joined by Bill Morris, who stumped for the Democratic Party, and others.

Despite the diversity of party and viewpoints, there was camaraderie among these people. All were from the neighborhood or near enough. To while away the long hours, since polls opened at 7 a.m. and closed at 8 p.m. , these workers talked amongst themselves discussing candidates in the current race. It was generally agreed that a certain Republican Candidate for City Council At-Large did himself no favors on the way he handled the story of his military service.

But the conversation wasn’t all just politics, sports gave way to general news. It was also generally agreed that the entire administration and athletic staff at Pennsylvania State University should be replaced. (At some point, I’ll speak more on this issue later.)

The English writer Warren Ellis sums up Election Day for me; it makes me “madder than a bastard on Father’s Day.” In all honesty, it was a lot of fun hanging out with these workers today; just regular folks hoping to get the vote out. They were certainly lucky receiving some fine weather…but the only thing would have made it better was a more positive attitude.

“Don’t want your propaganda,” said a moody voter, rushing past the workers.

All you really had to say was, ‘no, thank you.’

For the latest election results, click here