Yippee Ki-Yay

I was saddened to see the news regarding Bruce Willis and his battle with aphasia, which battle has led him to abruptly retire from acting.  

Truthfully, I have not seen him in a memorable role in far too long.   That matters not to me.  I became a fan when I first saw him trading barbs with Cybil Shepherd in Moonlighting as private eye David Addison “We handle felonious assaults and felonies with no salt” being the type of silly banter for which the show and he became known.   

My old college friend John Gloor and I saw Die Hard for free on campus at CU-Boulder prior to its theatrical release.  I still remember the two of us walking into it expecting it to stink and walking out shouting “Yippee Ki-Yay Mother F*cker!” until we were hoarse.   He was great too in a host of other films and roles.   

I am not embarrassed to acknowledge that Armageddon is one of my favorite guilty pleasure movies.   Willis’ Harry Stamper is more than a bit of a cartoon character, which is for me what makes him so great.  He is a seriously flawed human being but in the end, he saves the day, principally for his daughter Grace but, by extension, the rest of the world too.  

May the post-public portion of his life be a peaceful one.  I know not what aphasia does to someone stricken by it.  I do know though, as a man who has watched and who continues to watch good people I love very much confront health issues for which they did not ask and which they certainly do not deserve, I am happy for Bruce Willis that he has the love and support of his family.  

-AK

The Truth of Consequences

A morsel or two of thought inspired in part by the patently absurd behavior displayed on stage - on live television - during Sunday night’s Academy Awards.

You do it, you own it.  If you cannot, then regardless of your age you are nothing but a petulant child…  

…and you shall forever be one.  Irrespective of however many awards you may win or how long a standing ovation you may receive while doing so.  

-AK

One Day

Food for thought for March's final Tuesday...

Today, write another page or another chapter.  How much you write is not important.  It is the act of writing that is.  You never know who shall need to read it. 

-AK 

The Problem with Goodbye

 I don't say goodbye.

I don't like to say goodbye.

I know that we'll always come back.

If you come back, we'll come back.

Will you come back?

If you'll come back, we'll come back,

so then I won't have to say goodbye. 

-Dave Grohl, 

Lollapooza Argentina

March 20, 2022

Eight days ago, when Foo Fighters' frontman Dave Grohl spoke those words as part of his introduction of the band's final song of the night, which was "Everlong", he had no way of knowing that he, his bandmates, and Foo Fighters' fans both in the arena and around the world were saying goodbye.  Not to one another but, sadly, to drummer Taylor Hawkins.  

Taylor Hawkins died on Friday.  He was fifty years young.  He is survived by his wife Alison and the couple's three children.  

"Everlong" - Foo Fighters

Lollapooza Argentina

March 20, 2022

-AK 

The Birthday Boy

 

Today my father-in-law Joe celebrates his eighty-ninth birthday.  He and I have been in each other's lives for thirty years.   I hope we have many more years together.  He is, simply, a hell of a man.  I have learned quite a lot from him these past three decades (although not nearly as much as I am sure he wishes I had or thought I should have).  I am confident that he has much more to teach.  

Happy Birthday, Giuseppe.  Here's to the next eighty-nine! 

-AK 

A Toast to the First Two Years

It was two years ago - this very weekend - when Donna and Steve Ashton opened the doors of Ashton Brewing in Middlesex, New Jersey.   In case you have forgotten, it was also two years ago that COVID-19 shut down life throughout New Jersey (not to mention the forty-nine lesser states that comprise the Republic).  Not an ideal time to start a business. 

Yet, two years later, not only is Ashton Brewing surviving...it is thriving.  As it well should.  Success is found at the point of intersection where great, smart people and a great product.  Ashton Brewing is chock full of both. 

 

I am beyond ecstatic at the success Donna and Steve have had - and shall continue to have.  I was one of their first customers back in March 2020 on Opening Day.  I still have my two Growlers, my two glasses, and my car magnet.  I have been back a time or two hundred since and shall continue to frequent the joint for as long as they shall have me.  

Over the course of the past couple of months, Ashton Brewing has become the unofficial brewery of Kennedys CMK LLP (at least the Basking Ridge office).  Now that Spring has officially sprung, I think an after-work field trip is on the docket (see how I worked in that official-sounding legalese).   

-AK 

Peppers and Eggs

Should David Chase and the other creative forces behind “The Sopranos” ever decide to revisit the exploits of badasses from the State of Concrete Gardens (although after the profound disappointment that was “The Many Saints of Newark” I am not sure any of them do), might I suggest they cast Shaheen Holloway in a lead role?

The current head coach of the Peacocks of Saint Peter’s College (and presumptive next coach of the Pirates of Seton Hall) is as Jersey as a Jersey guy can be.  He grew up on the basketball courts here, playing his high school hoops at St. Patrick’s in Elizabeth before playing at Seton Hall.  He has made his bones here.   He is Jersey, through and through.  

Whether midnight arrives tonight for his Peacocks or not, he and they have already written the story of this year’s NCAA Tournament.  They have proven the truth and the wisdom of the words of the Hall-of-Fame defensive tackle (and woefully underrated American philosopher) Bob Lilly, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog.”

Or, in the case of Coach Holloway and his team, I suppose, the size of the fight in the peacock.  

(C) NJ.COM

-AK

Wide Awake and In Pain

 

It's the weight of the world but it's nothing at all

Light as a prayer and then I feel myself fall

You've got to give me a minute

'Cause I'm way down in it and I can't breathe 

So I can't speak

I want to be strong and steady, always ready

Now I feel so small, 

I feel so weak.

"Anxiety" 

-Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit 

If you are unfamiliar with Jason Isbell, then feel free to use this otherwise eminently forgettable piece of prose as your introduction.  I am not as familiar with him as I would like.  I intend to remedy that flaw in my character. 

One down.  One million to go.  

Anxiety
Why am I never where I am supposed to be?
Even with my lover sleeping close to me
I'm wide awake and I'm in pain.

"Anxiety" 

-Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit

-AK

Show Time!

In the North End of Boston, Wednesday may or may not still be Prince Spaghetti Day.  Frankly, it concerns me not.  

It concerns me not for a couple of reasons.  First and foremost, I do not now live - nor have I ever lived - in the North End of Boston.  Second, in our house, Sunday is "Nana's Noodle Noodle Day", which noodles I guarantee you taste better than anything for which Anthony was running home.  

Today, in our house, is Sebastian Maniscalco Day!  His show at the Prudential Center in Newark, which had originally been scheduled for Boxing Day but had to be rescheduled due to COVID-19, is tonight at 7 pm.   

Tell Anthony's mom to not set a place for us.  Tonight we shall be dining out. 

-AK 

Embracing the Unknown and the Knowable

I just started reading “Saved at the Seawall”, which is Jessica Dulong’s book about the September 11 boat lift at Manhattan’s southern end.   Early on in it, she quotes Rebecca Solnit’s “Hope in the Dark”, which I have not read but which I think I might…

-AK

A Place of Peace

Everyone needs a place that gives us the peace we need to make it through our day-to-day.  I am lucky enough to have found mine.  

Normandy Beach, New Jersey

If you have your place that brings you peace, then you know of which I speak.   If you do not, then I hope your get it - and soon.    Each of us deserves such a place. 

Eighth Avenue Beach- Normandy Beach, N.J.

Each of us deserves nothing less.

Eighth Avenue Beach - Normandy Beach, N.J.

-AK

 

 

All Hail the Vernal Equinox

Welcome Spring!   

Get out there and enjoy it.  Time better spent than reading this silliness.  

-AK 

Pace is the Essence

A favorite of mine, Charles Bukowski, speaking words of wisdom on this final day of Winter...

Pace is the essence.  Go at the pace that suits you. 

-AK 

 

Winter’s Final Friday

This concludes today’s briefing.  

-AK

A Blessing for the Day

Happy St. Patrick’s Day…

A blessing for us whether we are Irish everyday or just for the day.  

However you spend it, be careful out there.  

-AK

It All Begins Anew Once More

It all begins anew…

This afternoon the Missus and I shall close on our new little piece of Paradise by the Sea.  We have moved south, from Monmouth County to Ocean County, and from Lake Como to Normandy Beach.   We have moved closer to the water.   

Once again today I shall enter the hallowed halls of my former professional home protecting and continuing my streak of never entering the building without making money for the Firm.  Today’s mission is to leave 629 Parsippany Road with less coin in my bank account and with a set of house keys in my pocket.  

May we find in our new piece of Paradise by the Sea the peace we found in its predecessor and may that peace remain with us for all the days that shall follow this one.  

-AK

I’ll Have The Salad. And For You, Julius?

Food for thought for the Ides of March…

-AK

Pi Day and Birthday Cake

Is there anything more rational that Pi Day being Albert Einstein's birthday?   

-AK

Buddha Coulda Woulda

Short and sweet today for daylight's a-wasting! 

Be careful out there. 

-AK 

At the Point Where the Desert Breaks

On last night's ride home from work, I listened to E Street Radio on Sirius XM.  Spoiler alert:  Me listening to Springsteen in the car is not - shall we say - a surprise.  

These days it is not a particularly long ride.  One of the many wonderful things about my newish gig is that I now spend about 1/3 of the time in the car as I used to going door-to-door between home and the office.  It does, of course, reduce the amount of music, Springsteen or otherwise, to which I am able to listen.  

Among the few songs to which I had time to listen was one of my favorites, "The Price You Pay".  Regardless of what you do, I reckon that its message is relatable:

You make up your mind, you choose the chance you take

You ride to where the highway ends and the desert breaks. 

Out to an open road, you ride until the day

You learn to sleep at night with the price you pay. 

"The Price You Pay" 

Bruce Springsteen

You do indeed.  Of course, for me sleep did not come until I made Delta-8 THC Gummies part of my nighttime routine.  All kidding aside, if you earn your living doing what I do, then that sensation of living your life on a hamster wheel is inextricably linked to your day-to-day.  You either learn to live with the knowledge that the path you lead is the one on which you voluntarily chose to walk or you make yourself crazy.  

Either way, you pay the price.  For in the words of the great American philosopher Jackson Browne, "Nobody rides for free." 

Nobody.

-AK 

Where Might I Sign?

If this is indeed a dog’s life - and in our home I assure you it is, then might someone tell me where exactly I sign up for such an existence…

Sam I Am preparing for her close up

(Photo credit:  Margaret Kenny)

However you spend your Friday, I assure you that my lovable mutt shall have a better day than you or I.  She always does…

Sam I Am working on her $1 Million smile

(Photo Credit: Margaret Kenny)

-AK

An Optimist’s View of the Calendar

A nickel’s worth of wisdom (99 more and you can buy a gallon of gas) for the first double-digit day of March.  

Daylight Savings Time is less than one week away.  Vernal Equinox, long a favorite of mine, is less than two weeks away.  April is just three weeks away.  

One day at a time baby.  One day at a time.  

-AK

"A Plea for Our Common Humanity"

I am constrained to admit that I am a product of the 1980s.  I graduated from elementary school, high school, and college in the 1980s.   I was in college when Sting, having parted ways with his bandmates in The Police and headed out on his own, released his first solo album.  Somewhere, someplace, I likely still have my copy of The Dream of the Blue Turtles.   I loved it when I first heard it.  I still do.  

World events these days have had me spending quite a bit of time humming and singing softly (for the benefit of those around me) one of the tracks from that first record.  

As it turns out, I am not the only 1980s stalwart who has spent a lot of time recently thinking about how timely, sadly so of course, "Russians" is once more.  

-AK

Yet Another Reason to Never Forget

 

It is not as if those of us, present company included, shall ever forget the events of September 11, 2001, need to be reminded of the still-present effects of that day.  This is for those among our number who have ever questioned - even if only once and even if one for a moment - the importance of imprinting September 11, 2001 into our collective memory in indelible ink. 

A study published by Nature Medicine yesterday, entitled "High burden of clonal hematopoiesis in first responders exposed to the World Trade Center disaster", which means (in part) that the men and women who responded to Ground Zero in the hours, days, weeks, and months following the act of mass murderous cowardice in Lower Manhattan were subjected to "an unprecendented environmental exposure to aerosolized dust, gases, and potential carcinogens." 

According to UPI, the first responders at Ground Zero have higher levels of genetic mutations linked with leukemia and other blood cancers.   More than two decades after September 11, 2001 claimed its first victims, it continues to do so.  

Never forget.  These men and women shall never be able to do so. 

-AK 

E.O. 292

NOW, THEREFORE, I, PHILIP D. MURPHY, Governor of the State of New Jersey, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and by the Statutes of this State, do hereby DECLARE and PROCLAIM and ORDER and DIRECT:

1. The Public Health Emergency declared in Executive Order No. 280 (2022) pursuant to the EHPA, N.J.S.A. 26:13-1 et seq., is hereby terminated.

Upon hearing Governor Murphy's declaration this past Friday (and setting aside the question as to now one can declare an "emergency's end" seventy-two hours in advance), my mind drifted back to this time way back when in March 2020, and how we spent that final Sunday, B.C. (Before Covid).  What follows here is what I wrote then: 

Monday, March 9, 2020

A Day for the Ages

The first Sunday of the "Daylight Savings Time" season was a rousing success, at least when viewed from the admittedly selfish vantage point of my limited perspective.  

Yesterday morning, Sam I Am and I drove down to Princeton and met Jill and Rita at Mountain Lakes Estate.  While us bipeds walked the 2.5 mile trail, Sam and Rita celebrated their first cousins romp of the Spring with the appropriate level of enthusiasm.  They ran, they played, they wrestled, and they romped.  If it was half as fun to do as it was to watch, then they had one hell of a time.  Sam enjoyed a nice, extended nap yesterday afternoon, unwinding from the morning that was.  

Sunday is the day of the week when Suzanne, Ryan, and their crew normally come to our house for Nana's "noodle, noodle".  Yesterday, we changed things up and took our show on the road to them.  While Suzanne remained home relaxing (as if that is possible when you have three children and all of them are under the age of three) with baby Rylan before dinner, Margaret, Joe, and I took Maggie and Cal to the park.  What a time we had!  

Not every day - including but not limited to Sunday - exceeds our expectations, which is why it is important to enjoy the ones that do.  

Nothing is guaranteed, including, but not limited to, next Sunday. Plan for tomorrow but live today.  

Every day.  

-AK   

"Nothing is guaranteed, including, but not limited to, next Sunday."  Boy, I called that one correctly...with a nice touch of understatement just for good measure.  

Proof, I suppose, of the old adages about blind squirrels and nuts and broken clocks being right twice a day.  

-AK

Time in a Bottle

My great friend, Jill, is a notoriously tough person to whom to give a gift.  So, this year, in honor of her induction into the Double-Nickel Club on this very day, I opted to go big:   I got her a parade.  

Actually, that is a lie.   As is the case with practically everyone unfortunate enough to know me, I got her nothing.  SURPRISE! Again, no, it is not.  

What is true, however, is that the 49th Annual Belmar/Lake Como St. Patrick's Day Parade steps off this afternoon at 12:30 on Main Street in Lake Como, returning after a COVID-19-forced hiatus in 2021.  The parade route is north on Main Street from Lake Como, into and through Belmar.  Margaret and I have gone to it a couple of times.  It is really a terrific event.  If you have the opportunity to get to the greater Belmar/Lake Como Metroplex later on this morning (giving yourself time to find a parking space and, then more importantly, a spot along the curb line from which to watch the parade pass by (literally, not figuratively), then I highly recommend it.  

A more important truth is that (courtesy of Wilma's recommendation) I finally have secured the weapon I have long needed in my battle against chronic, recurrent insomnia

Desperate times call for desperate measures.  Seeing as I was up to popping three Melatonin a night shortly before going nighty-night with little to no reward, I was desperate.  Apparently, in the 21st Century, desperate times also call for a little product known as Delta-8 THC Gummies.  

My magic elixir arrived in Friday's mail.  I ate one on Friday night and, again, last night about an hour before bed time.  I slept straight through the night (except for, of course, my regular mid-sleep cycle jaunt(s) to the bathroom - it is a sleep aid not a magic trick) each night and woke up, yesterday and this morning, rested and ready to go.  

Thank you Wilma.  Thank you, too, Weed.com, which might represent the single best thing the interweb has ever had to offer since Al Gore invented it.  Other than videos of puppies and dogs doing funny things, of course.  

The night I placed my first order created my very own Weed.com account, I smiled at the thought of how jealous college-aged me would have been of middle-aged me, and also a little proud perhaps, for having such a thing.  Of course, had such a site existed three-plus decades as I matriculated my way through the University of Colorado, Boulder, I would - right now - be enjoying my seventy-second consecutive semester as a college sophomore.  

(c) Good Housekeeping

-AK 

  

Walk Tall

…or baby don’t walk at all.  

As you head out the door into March’s first Saturday, keep your chin up and keep leaning hard into the wind. 

Be careful out there but show a little faith too.

There is magic in the night after all.  

-AK

An Alternative to Fish on Lent’s First Friday

Earlier this week I wrote of the brilliance that is Ivan Maisel’s “I Keep Trying to Catch His Eye”.   A little food for thought courtesy of Ivan Maisel to nourish your soul on this, March’s first Friday.

Be careful out there.  

(c) Ivan Maisel

-AK

Fifty-Seven

What he said… 

Thanks, Mom. 

-AK

At the Point of Intersection between the Dewey Decimal and Barter Systems

It may not be best reason to love to read but it certainly is a good one…

…if only it had worked for him.  

Or for anyone.   

-AK

The First Step of a Long March

I have some bad news for General Patton.  We have not even Marched for one day and my mind is already fucking exhausted.

Maybe if my mind could exercise some of its alleged power over my body, I would actually be able to fall asleep at night.  

Maybe. 

-AK