This week I finished reading an 850 page Stephen King book, 11-22-63. I don’t usually read Stephen King and I don’t usually read books that long. But, I’m glad I did. It is the story of a man who finds a portal to time travel in the pantry of an old diner. He decides to use the power of time travel to go back to 1963 and to kill Lee Harvey Oswald before the assassin can kill President Kennedy. There are interesting sub-plots and the climax (I won’t be a ruiner) shows what can happen if we mess with the natural flow of things.

This got me thinking about what I might do with that power. First I thought about historical events. Would I go back and stop Aaron Burr from killing Alexander Hamilton? But then no Broadway musical! Would I have John Wilkes Booth miss his shots at Lincoln? Would I have the Emperor of Japan rule against the attack on Pearl Harbor? Would I have Ringo Starr turn down the offer to join the Beatles? Noooo to that last one!

But then I got to thinking about changing events in the past of my own personal life. There are the obvious choices to fix regrets, like doing much better in high school or having the “live on a college campus” experience. But to use that power to fix things like this may be a waste of time travel. What are the turning points in my life that I would alter if I could do back and change them? If I had been able to prevent my mom’s death, when I was fifteen, I would have more likely taken school seriously and gone to college in the September of 1970. If I could have prevented my daughter’s death in 1989, I would likely have more grandchildren and would not have to get upset to answer the horrible question everyone who lost a child dreads…How many children do you have? If I could have had my urologist say “the biopsy on your prostate is negative”, I would today feel more like a whole, strong, and confident man. These events were all out of my control.

Time travel would allow us to fix things that were out of our control. But what about the things we screw up that are under our control? A life philosophy I share with clients is that 99% of your mistakes are fixable. Maybe not easily or quickly, but definitely fixable. We don’t need time travel to lead a better life. But, it sure would be cool! Maybe I could be the drummer that replaces Pete Best!

I hope this post made you think a little bit about your life and your regrets and your mistakes. We all have them. Also, I highly recommend 11-22-63, in spite of its 850 pages.

Yep. First line in “She Blinded Me with Science”, it’s poetry in motion. From Thomas Dolby’s first line mention of poetry, he changes the theme to science. Poetry gets a mere mention, just like in life. I graduated high school in 1970. For a boy to openly admit that he loves poetry, in 1970, was opening himself to ridicule, harassment, and bullying. He would most likely have been called gay (not that there is anything wrong with that). I didn’t need that negativity back then, so I never said it. I’m saying it now. I love poetry.

Not all poetry of course. Some of it is way over my head. What’s the first poem we probably all learned as children? “Trees” by Joyce Kilmer. “I think that I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree.” Beautiful. In 8th grade we studied “Evangeline” by Longfellow. We all studied Shakespeare at some point. We use quotes and words from his sonnets all the time, five hundred years later. Robert Frost read poetry at Kennedy’s inauguration.

Who doesn’t know these lines? All from poems. “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage. Rage against the dying of the light”. “She walks in beauty, like the night”. “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways”. “Two roads diverged in a yellow wood… and I took the one less traveled by and that has made all the difference”. “He was my North, my South, my East, and my West”. I could go on, but I think I made my point. We all love poetry, or at least parts of it.

My favorite working poet is Ted Kooser. He is a retired insurance executive from Nebraska. If you want to try some easy to understand, down to earth poetry, I recommend him. I don’t want to break any copyright laws, so I won’t share here. Or, you could read something by me! I had two poems published thirty years ago. One was about the Walnutport Canal and the other was about our cat, Benson. Yesterday, I entered a new one in a poetry contest. At the risk of being ridiculed, harassed, and bullied, here it is:

Her Burqa

“Pregnant drops of new rain fall onto her light brown burqa.

The rains spots make her shoulders look like wild bird eggs.

Soon, her burqa is dark brown as she trudges up the hill.

Her weight slows her, one foot after another, getting wetter still.”

Will that win me $4000? Most likely not. But did I have fun trying to write it? Absolutely.

The point I am trying to make is that you should pursue your passions, no matter what others think. This goes out, especially to those of you who are still young. If you are a girl and you love cars, shout it from the rooftops and go work on cars. If you are a boy, and you love flowers, show everyone the beauty you find there. The closed minds of others are their problems alone.

What’s that I hear in the distance? Church bells! Uh oh, poetry again: “The tintinnabulation of the bells, bells, bells, bells, bells bells, bells”. Thank you for that, Edgar Allen Poe.

Who recognized that as a line of lyrics from John Mellencamp’s “Small Town”? Who recognized it as awkward grammar? You are all correct! I’m back, this week at least, to writing about my small town, Slatington. I was there this week wandering around the cemetery. That’s what I do! I was feeling a little down so I went to visit my mom and dad, two grandparents and a lot of aunts and uncles. They are all buried in the top section of Fairview Cemetery.

I began to explore the other gravestones in that small section of the cemetery. Wow! In maybe a third of an acre, I realized I was walking through the story of my own life. There was the grave of Dr. Pickel. He treated my mom for heart disease until her death in 1967. He was always a topic of conversation in our home. A rabbit scared me as it jumped out from behind another stone. It was the headstone of Evelyn Naylor, our high school guidance counselor. I remember when she lost my application to attend East Stroudsburg State College. She wasn’t one of my favorites! Also in that grassy area is the grave of Larry Horner, the kid from our school that died in Vietnam. That made me, again, realize how lucky I was to have a high draft lottery number. A groundhog stood on its rump and stared at me. He and I and the rabbit were the only ones there. Right down from him was the tombstone of Dinah Strohl. I remember her as a classmate at some point. She was always so thin, and so pale. It was rumored that she had heart issues. The stone tells me she made it to age 31. I am so thankful to still be here at 68. I saw the graves of many parents of classmates, which reminded me how close our class of 1970 once was. We all knew each other. Yay for small schools! Speaking of classmates, a few down from my mom and dad lies Bob Harry. He did not make it to 68. He was known as the guy who scored Slatington’s 100th point in a high school basketball game. Glory days, yeah, they’ll pass you by.

There’s the contractor who helped raise the back of our house on Dowell Street. There is a couple who once spent a week’s vacation with my relatives and my family at Lake Wallenpaupack. There is the barber who cut my hair more than a few times. I think by now you get my point. We are all part of something much bigger. We are all connected in some way. People come in and out of our lives at an alarming rate of speed. Relationships, no matter how small, are important.

So, did this little walk in Fairview Cemetery raise my spirits (no pun intended!)? Not really, but it did remind me that without death we wouldn’t think life is so precious. But it is. So tell, and show, the people that are important to you that you care. No one knows how long they will be in your life.

Well, I’m not like a bird. If I were, I would be more like a penguin, a bit overweight with a tendency to waddle. Are penguins even considered birds? But I digress…in the first paragraph!

The other day I heard the song, “I’m Like a Bird” by Nellie Furtado. It immediately took me back to a job I had in the early 2000s. I was a sexual abuse/assault counselor for Crime Victims Council. Most Friday afternoons I would spend counseling female inmates at Lehigh County Prison. While most of them were there on charges of drugs and /or prostitution, I worked with them on their abuse at the hands of my gender. I saw them individually, but I noticed when two got together they would often burst into that song. “I’m like a bird, I’ll only fly away. I don’t know where my soul is. I don’t know where my home is.”

Almost twenty years later, I still consider this the best population of clients I have had the honor to work with. I learned more about life from these strong women, than I have learned anywhere else. That work was challenging, rewarding, and sometimes entertaining. I thought, on this stormy morning, I would share some of my experiences and mention some of the most memorable women.

There was an underground economy in the prison. One inmate I worked with had it all figured out. She was a good writer, creative, and especially good when writing erotically. She had a good business writing letters for the other inmates to their boyfriends and husbands at home. She always had plenty of money in her prison account.

I learned about the tremendous amount of camaraderie among the female inmates and of course I heard stories about being “gay for the stay”. “Orange is the New Black” had a lot of very realistic themes.

Some of my clients there worked very hard at trying to get their power back. One in particular shared stories of how her boyfriend beat and raped her regularly and how the only place she felt safe was when she was in jail. I liked her a lot. It was difficult stuff to hear. Interestingly, a few years after this, I was working another job counseling sex offenders. Her boyfriend was in one of my groups. He did not have an easy time in that group.

I mentioned that this work could be rewarding. Sometimes you only find that out years later. Two years ago, I was in a traffic jam on Schoenersvile Road. All of a sudden I hear “Dennis! Dennis!”. I look in the mirror and see an older and younger woman running toward me. I recognized the older woman instantly. She was a wonderful client in the prison who worked hard to get her life back on track. I remember her great sense of humor and how sometimes we spent the whole session laughing. She told me that I made a big difference in her life and she thought of me often. That’s what this work is really about, certainly not wealth accumulation.

I also mentioned that this work can be entertaining. Here’s a funny story. I met an inmate for the first time and asked her what she was in for. She said that she was arrested for impersonating an officer. She laughed and laughed. She explained that she is a prostitute. She was “working” and a guy pulled up in his car and offered her ten dollars for her “services”. She was insulted by the low offer, so she made him believe she was a police officer and had him get out of the car and made him stand facing a wall. She took his car for a ride round the block. They both got arrested. I complimented her on her creativity and quick thinking. She laughed and laughed again.

So there is a little sample of my experiences with the female population of Lehigh County Prison. These women were strong, intelligent, creative, and funny. Probably the biggest lesson I learned there is that you just can’t write people off. It is important to get to know people and to know their history. While their experiences may be different than yours they still have that innate need to find happiness. The other thing I learned there, and in my next job working with sex offenders, is that my gender really needs to step up its game!

No philosophy today. No nostalgia either. It’s time to get serious. We need these questions answered!

Where did Cotton Eye Joe come from? Where did he go? This stuff keeps me up at night. I did some research and found that the term refers to being tested for STDs through the use of a Q-tip, a cotton swab! That’s why he never got married, because of his STDs. But still, no answer to the question…where did he come from and where did he go?

Here’s another. What, exactly, was Billie Joe McAllister throwing off the Tallahatchee Bridge? We know Billie Joe killed himself by jumping off a bridge. We know the singer of the song was seen throwing something off the bridge with Billie the day before. What did they throw in the river? I guess we will never know. One thing we do know is not to buy a house on Choctaw Ridge. Nothing will ever come to good at that particular location!

This one comes from a more obscure 60s song, ” Timothy”. I always loved this song because it was so offbeat. Who sings about cannibalism? But do they? That’s the question. Three guys are trapped in a mine cave in. They are trying to stay alive, with no food source. The implication is that Timothy gets eaten. In the song the question is “Timothy, Timothy, where on Earth did you go?”. Did they eat him or did he find a way out on his own. Enquiring minds want to know!

Did Eleanor Rigby ever find a way out of her loneliness? Did she one day make the decision to put on the face that she kept in a jar by her door? Did she make her way down to Penny Lane or maybe to the Cavern Club for a night out of music and dance? Did she meet the man of her dreams there and did she then lose him? We know she died in the church. But, before that, did she at least have some fun? There’s another question. All the lonely people…were do they all come from?

I could go on and on, but I would surely never get sleep. Just listen to all of these unanswered questions: Did the Supremes find out where their love went? Did the Clash decide whether to stay or go? Did Elvis Costello find out what is so funny about peace, love, and understanding? Did Rod Stewart find out if you thought he was sexy? Did CCR find out if anyone will stop the rain? Did the Beegees find out the depth of your love? How about Frankie Lyman all those years ago, did he find out why fools fall in love? Tina Turner, after dumping Ike, probably found out what love has to do with it. At least I hope so! The Lovin Spoonful wanted to know if you believe in magic. Do you?

Finally, the Beatles asked “Do You Want to Know a Secret?”. I do. I do. I want to know the secret to falling asleep with all of these unanswered questions?

Covid-19 is stealthily stalking all of us all around the world. Don’t worry this is not a diatribe about mask wearing versus personal freedom. It just got me thinking of all of the things that surround us, and affect us, that we cannot see. The invisible forces that are at work while we are awake and while we sleep.

Let me be, just for a minute, a scientist. I’m not a scientist, in any sense of the word. But take a minute, sit still, and look all around you. You see furniture and wall decor and books. What you don’t see are radio waves, which you can access by turning on a radio. Don’t believe me? Turn your radio on. Music! Light waves are there too. That’s how you can see the furniture and wall decor and books. Also around you are microwaves. Want some popcorn? Gamma rays, infrared rays, electro-magnetic waves! I don’t understand how any of that works. It’s a bit like magic.

Let me be, for another minute, a naturalist. I’m not a naturalist either, but I do spend a lot of time outdoors. There is dust and there are dust-like particles all around us. Look around you again. Look toward a window where the sun is coming in. There they are! Look at the pillow on your bed. It is crawling with dust mites! Okay, let’s not go there. Outside the air is filled with pollen. You allergy sufferers know about that. You know what else is flying through the air that we just don’t see? Seeds of all types are carried by the wind. Want to see something amazing? Go to your nearest billboard and see what is growing beneath it. You are likely to see a wonderful array of plants and wildflowers! Those seeds, riding the wind, were stopped dead in their tracks by that billboard. Again, magic!

What else surrounds us that science hasn’t figured out yet? I haven’t a clue. What if it is a love wave? Maybe it is that that makes us fall in love with one person and not another? Maybe it is that wave of love that makes us want others to be, and do, well. Maybe it is a love wave that makes us sacrifice for our children. I can only guess that waves of love make that possible, after all I’m not a scientist! But, I do have some anecdotal evidence. I’ve been in love and I know that it is definitely some sort of magic!

Last night I watched, on Amazon Prime, a documentary called Once is Enough. It was about a 315 pound, non athletic, stand up comic. This comedian watched his mom die of heart disease. To honor her and to change his own lifestyle he decided to train for and run a 100 mile ultra-marathon. I’ll let you watch it to see if he accomplishes his goal. It was funny, inspiring, and it made me think of difficult things from my life. There have been many difficult things, but three stand out. An interesting thing about them all, is how much you go through them alone.

The first of the three is training for and running a marathon. Not an ultra-marathon, JUST 26.2 miles. I chose this difficult thing, partly because I knew it would be difficult. I’ve written about this run before so I won’t bore you with details. But let me share some of my feelings about this ordeal. Throughout the six months of training right up until race time, I was filled with self doubt. On the bus, in the 6 am darkness, traveling to a point 26.2 miles from downtown Scranton, I asked myself “What the hell were you thinking?”. At mile twenty, when I was passed by a fast walker, I thought to myself how I suck at this. When the finish line came into view I felt like the king of the world…I just ran 26.2 miles. The next day, when I could barely move my legs I thought, never again. A week later I thought, well maybe. An entire range of emotions…just like life.

The second of the three was thrust upon me. I had to watch my seventeen year old daughter die. In spite of loved ones around me and the support of many, I, like Amy, faced the emotions of this fight alone. Feelings of hopelessness and helplessness were the most common. Happiness when my son, her brother, was a bone marrow match. Glee when she left the hospital for the first time in six months. Sadness when she relapsed and there was nothing more they could do. Regret finished off this range of emotions. Regret that I couldn’t do more to help her. Regret that I didn’t do enough to make her hospital time more pleasant. Regret that I didn’t tell her that I love her enough.

The third difficult thing is one we all face, aging and death. At 68, I am in the beginning of this one, and so far I am not liking it one bit. The physical changes sneak up on you. The acceptance that there are some things you will never do again is really hard. The curiosity about what comes next is, at times, overwhelming. The fact that people don’t look at you the same way and that you have passed your peak is just sad. Bruce Springsteen captured this brilliantly in a line from the song “Glory Days”, Glory days, well they’ll pass you by. Glory days, in the wink of a young girl’s eye.

Three difficult things. One by choice, one by chance, and one by grand design. All we can do, is our best.

I bet you thought I would write something about independence today. Or fireworks. Or apple pie. Or corn on the cob! Nah. I’m writing instead about a fictional character.

Last night I was looking around for something to watch on TV. On Hulu, I stumbled across The Wonder Years, a wonderful sitcom from the late 80s. If you don’t remember the show, it was a coming of age series about the Arnolds, set in the late 60s. Kevin Arnold was me, in some ways. He was three years younger but he had the same Beatles poster in his room that I had. He loved the space program. He was a curious kid who was confused about where he fit in the turbulent times of the 60s. Like many of us. His dad was a cranky Republican with a short temper. His mom was the long suffering homemaker. His older sister was a burgeoning hippie. His older brother was, well, an older brother whose purpose in life was to give Kevin a hard time. The soundtrack was awesome 60s music. The theme song was written by Lennon and McCartney!

But why is my title “Winnie Cooper”? All of us early teen boys had a Winnie Cooper in our lives. She was the one we wanted with all of our adolescent passion. Throughout our lives we may have different Winnie Coopers, but trying to find Winnie symbolizes something in all of us. Winnie lived next door to Kevin. They grew up together. When they became teens, they shared a first kiss. But Winnie was always just out of reach for Kevin. Throughout the series’ seasons, we all wanted them to eventually marry and have little Arnolds. But in the end, after graduation, they went their separate ways. Winnie went off to study in Europe. Years later when they see each other again, after a long separation, Kevin introduces his wife and first child to Winnie. Nooooo!

Some kids do marry their Winnie Coopers. Many of my high school classmates are still with their high school sweethearts. Good for them! Others realized early on that they would never settle down with Winnie, accepted that and have lived wonderful lives with someone else. Then there are the hopeless romantics like me…still looking for my Winnie Cooper!

But I will end this post with the quote that Kevin used to end the series, “Like I said, things never turn out the way you plan them.”

“The hardest thing to learn is the least complicated”. The Indigo Girls sang that. I concur. Of course, how could you not agree with anyone who can write a great song about Galileo!?

The song I am talking about, “Least Complicated”, is about relationships. But after my camping trip to French Creek State Park, I really think they were writing about traffic rotaries, sometimes called roundabouts! Rotaries are not popular in Pennsylvania, though they are becoming more so. In my life I have probably never driven in more than two handfuls of roundabouts.

So imagine my surprise, while driving on 222, when I reach the intersection at 737 where I always turn left at the stoplight, instead I find a rotary. No stoplight. I can do this, I tell myself, as I go right instead of my usual left. How hard can this be? I stay in the right lane, assuming I will stay there until I get three quarters of the way around , and just go off the ramp toward my destination. But no! Damn, I’m out of the rotary and still on 222. There were two other rotaries on the way and I am happy to report that my record with those two was one out of two. Oh my! Improvement! Maybe you can teach an old dog new tricks?

To my credit, back in the nineties I managed to survive a six lane rotary coming out of the airport in Lisbon, Portugal. I was warned about it two weeks prior by a colleague who drove it earlier. He said stay all the way to the right and take the first exit. I did. Perfect. But, it is not the first exit on the way back. I think I went around that rotary three times before giving up and pulling into a gas station. Thankfully, they spoke English and they helped me find my way back to the airport rental car drop off.

On the plane back home I must have been thinking how good it is to be going to a country with no traffic rotaries.

And now this! In Berks County! One county away! The hardest things to learn are the least complicated. The Indigo Girls were right.

Am I a huge fan of this singer/songwriter? Not really. But I do think of him twice a year. One time is on Kentucky Derby Day because he wrote a beautiful song called Run for The Roses, about a horse running in his first derby. The other is today, Fathers Day, because he wrote one of the best father songs ever, Leader of the Band. Here is the chorus:

“The leader of the band is tired and his eyes are growing old, but his blood runs through my instrument and his song is in my soul. My life has been a poor attempt to imitate the man, I am a living legacy of the leader of the band.”

As a father, have I tried to imitate my dad? Am I a good legacy of his life? As I’ve gone through life, I’ve learned more about my dad, from reflection and from others. I learned that, like all of us, he was a flawed human being, not the perfect person of my elementary school days. But, I loved him then and I love him now. He’s been gone from my life for almost 37 years. I miss him.

I love being a dad! It’s probably the favorite role I have played in my life. How did I become the kind of dad I am? Well, I think I brought a sense of fun and a sense of humor from my dad. I also brought along his lack of impulse control. He once, quit a job just so he could access his retirement money, so he could visit his oldest son in California! One thing I have tried to teach my kids is to be kind and to stick up for those less fortunate. That’s from my dad. My dad with the funny name: Winfield Kernechel George!

I also learned how to be a dad from my big brother Jim. My dad and I lived with his family after my mom died. I was fifteen. He taught me how to be solid, consistent, responsible, and giving.

I’m not a big rap fan, but I love this line from the Lupe Fiasco song “Daydream”. “Here’s to the streets that drove me crazy, and to all the televisions out there that raised me.” Here’s a shout out to all the TV dads that raised me. Ward Cleaver, Jim Anderson, Sheriff Andy Taylor, Rob Petrie, Ben Cartwright, Gomez Addams, Steve Douglas, Doggie Daddy, Jed Clampett, Luke McCoy, and last but not least, Herman Munster!

Happy Fathers Day to all my fellow dads!! We rock!!