Photo-of-the-Week #259 Reconnecting – Uncle Pete's House, Garfield, New Jersey, September 2013

I've decided to end this Photo-of-the-Week series at the five year mark. That will be at the 260^th post of weekly photos. This is #259. I have no particular reason for ending this series. I still have thousands of photos left and I'm always taking more. I simply feel like taking a break and coming up with something new. I'm thinking it may be video instead of still photos. Stay tuned and you'll be surprised as much as I may be with whatever I come up with. So, there is still one more photo in this series next week.

Yesterday, Saturday April 16, 2016, something occurred that hasn't occurred in more than 20 years. As a matter of fact, something occurred that probably hasn't occurred in possibly as many as about 50 years.

The 20 year marker was that my two younger sisters, Lois and Denise, and I met and spent several hours together. I've seen each of them during those 20 years. They've seen each other during those 20 years, however, the three of us hadn't been together at the same time and place over those years. My, how the years have flown and how we've changed (please note, I didn't use the word “aged”). . . READ MORE

52 Weeks to a Simpler Life – Tip #29 – Take Some Staycations

Audio Version available - see player below

The recently coined word “staycation” has become so widely used that it was added to the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary in 2009. The earliest tracked use of the word dates back to 2003 and was coined by a Canadian comedian. It became a fairly common word in 2008 during the economic crisis that gripped the U.S. that year.

The word simply means, instead of planning and traveling somewhere for a vacation, one simply stays at home, saves the travel expenses and occupies the time doing any number of a wide variety of activities you either procrastinate about, gloss over or, simply, never thought about taking advantage of in your particular location.

Believe it or not, most of us bypass so many opportunities in our homes and, uniquely, “in our own backyards” similar to the concept described in the classic, short book, Acres of Diamonds, by Russell Conwell. Simply put, there are all kinds of “treasures” wherever you are. We all tend to take these unrecognized treasures for granted and don't even realize their existence.

Photo-of-the-Week #185 Pride & Disappointment - Clifton High School, Clifton, New Jersey, September 2013

50 Years! Yes, it was 50 years ago in June of 1963 that I graduated from Clifton High School. And, here I am back at this school 50 years and three months from my commencement into adulthood. An interesting factoid is that my Class of 1963 was the first class to graduate from this structure or, as we termed it back then, the "new" Clifton High School.

A lot has happened during those 50 years. Clifton High School seems to have aged well. It is still a very pretty, clean and well manicured campus. The trees are now mature as opposed to the newly planted saplings in 1962 when we first walked on the campus. Other than a new wing being added sometime during those years, the structure appears to be much as it was 50 years ago. . . READ MORE

Photo-of-the-Week - Contrast in Americana - The Old And The New, North East, Pennsylvania, July 2014

This photo op jumped out at me as I was crossing from northwestern New York State into northwestern Pennsylvania on a recent trek. North East is actually the name of the township in northwestern Pennsylvania. Is that clear? Maybe as clear as mud, huh?

The contrast was so stark as I passed this sight that I turned around and went back to capture this photo. There stood an old Dairy Queen soft-serve ice cream stand back to back with a modern Circle K convenience store. . . READ MORE

Photo-of-the-Week #171 Home Sweet Home, 123 Polk Street, Syracuse, New York, June 2014

Once before, in an earlier post, I mentioned a song we recorded in our Washington, DC studio in the mid '70's entitled, "Stranger in My Home Town." Well, even though I had only resided in Syracuse, New York for two years, from 1967-1969, it still felt, in a way, like a hometown to me. But, as I visited it in June of this year, I was that "stranger" from the song title.

The building in this photo is a studio apartment complex located at 123 Polk Street in the town of Dewitt, New York. Dewitt is a suburb bordering the Syracuse city limit. This very building, on the first floor, was one of the places I called "home, sweet home" for the last month or so I lived in Syracuse. . . . READ MORE

2014 Trek #2 - Heading North - To Meet Up With My Son In New Jersey

I'm back on the road! Hooray! With many and almost all the refinements, modification and project completions accomplished, I have been anxious to get My McVansion on the road and test it out. I finally headed out about 7 PM on Monday August 9, 2014 from base camp Keyser, West Virginia. The van was pretty well packed, though there was some stuff I just threw in and figured I'd organize and stow it later.

This was a great visit with my son. It was the best Father's Day I've had in close to two decades because I actually spent time with Pete. Of course, he had to leave early on the morning on Father's Day, but hey, I got three and a half days him.

Being able to take him back to my roots again, at a time when he'll be able to remember and recognize the impact this made on me as to who I became and ultimately on who he is and who he became was priceless to me. . .  READ MORE

Photo-of-the-Week #163 - Hurricane Sandy Recovery, Seaside Heights, New Jersey, June 13, 2014

Seaside Heights, New Jersey is one of my childhood memories. Most people who grew up in the Garden State spent some part of their childhood and adolescence at the Jersey Shore. I had the occasion, this past Friday (Friday the 13th) to visit Seaside Heights. The photo depicts part of the destruction that was dealt by one of the worst hurricanes to strike the New Jersey coast in history. . . READ MORE

Preparing For 2014 Trek #2

I'm three days away from embarking on my next significant trek of 2014. The past three months have been spent dealing with warm, cold, cold, warm, cold, cold, cold, warm, etc. temperatures and rain, a little left over snow, a fair amount of overcast and some sunny days while planning and attempting to execute a number of modifications, refinements and the completion of some projects on My McVansion that I didn't get to before I left on the last 2 1/2 month trek.

Truth be told, I've also done some work on client projects, assisted as I could with the transfer of leadership/coordination of the Veteran Speakers Retreat I coordinated for the past twelve years, began a substantial revision of the Living Free blog site and my over all blogging philosophy and plans, done some contemplating of what I want to do when I grow up and a bit of just being LAZY.

The List of 40 . . . READ MORE

Photo-of-the-Week #156, Home #4, The Birth of My Ham Radio Hobby, Clifton, New Jersey, September 2013

This Photo-of-the-Week Marks the 156th such post in this series of photos and I don't believe I've missed a week since I launched it. However, this will be the last post of this series after three years. The Photo-of-the-Week series moves to my Travel blog that you'll be able to access by clicking on the "Traveling" tab above. So, "the beat rolls on" just in a slightly modified manner.

This photo is of the fourth home my parents owned, three of them were in my hometown of Clifton, New Jersey. There were two other places we lived prior to the homes they owned, but they were rental properties. The homes my parents owned represented the post-WWII emergence of a growing Middle Class in the U.S. The American Dream was to own a home, have a nice car (eventually, two cars and, in our family, we eventually had three). This was the house we moved from, on the mountain in Bloomingdale that was my favorite, when we returned to Clifton .

Every home we lived in brings back vivid memories. For those people who grew up in only one or two homes, memories may blur into a continuum. But, since we moved fairly frequently, each home is like an era unto itself. This split-level house actually had four levels. There is a basement below the living room, dining room and kitchen on the right side of the house. That basement has special significance to me.

So, what are the memories I have for the three years we lived here at 40 Manor Drive? First, we returned to Clifton just in time for me to start junior high school at Woodrow Wilson Jr. High (7th through 9th grades). I also acquired my newspaper route and began my "entrepreneurial" career in this house. I delivered the evening newspaper for The Herald News six days a week to 108 customers and collected payment for the papers every Saturday morning. I became quite active in the jr. high Baptist Youth Fellowship that I eventually became vice-president and then president of. This began my leadership opportunities.

The space to the right of the garage was unfinished when we moved into the house, so my father built in a recreation room (as they called them back then), a half bathroom and a laundry room in that space. When he built the laundry room, he set it up so that I could also use it as a darkroom for my fledgling photography hobby. In the back yard, to the right of the house, behind the large shrubs, my father set up our first, of two, large, above ground swimming pools that provided for a lot of summer fun.

My bedroom was above the family room, (the double windows on the second floor over the double windows of the family room). It was in this bedroom that my interest was peaked and my amateur radio hobby was born. We had, from somewhere, acquired an old console radio, dating back to the later 30's or 40's. I believe it was a Philco. I managed to cram that big old radio into my closet, straightened out a coat hanger and turned it into an antenna. I would sit and swelter (from the heat created by all the vacuum tubes and transformers) in that closet for hours listening to shortwave radio stations and ham radio operators around the world. I also began reading the Tommy Tomkins stories SOS at Midnight and CQ Ghost Ship. Tommy was a fictional high school senior and ham radio operator who used his hobby to solve mysteries. These books probably launched more young teens into ham radio during the '60s than almost anything else.

There was a ham radio operator, Jack Nixon, W2IMG, who lived about 15 minutes from our house by bike. Jack was a science teacher in a neighboring town. He was also the person who helped me get started and administered my first two amateur radio exams. I was 13 in 1958, just shy of my 14th birthday, when I took my Novice exam. The license arrived from the FCC right after I turned 14 and I was issued the call sign WV2FMT (changed within a year to WA2FMT when I upgraded my license). I still carry that call sign, WA2FMT, to this date, 55 years later. 

There was really no room in my bedroom for even a small ham radio station, so my father took about half of the basement under the living room and built in another room that he designed as my "Ham Shack." The rest of the basement was workshop. I even had my own extension telephone in my ham shack. Back in the 50's kids didn't have their own extensions, so I was an anomaly. My father ran antenna cables and a control cable to the roof and to the back yard. On the roof he installed my 2-meter (144 MHz) beam antenna and my 15-meter (21 MHz) beam antenna along with the rotator to turn the antennas toward whomever I was in contact with. In the back yard, I had a 40-meter (7 MHz) long-wire, dipole antenna. This gave me the capability of communicating locally, throughout the U.S. and around the world. This was pretty heady stuff for a 13 or 14-year-old kid back in those days.

Thus, while house #3 was my favorite house, House #4 really was the launching pad for, pretty much, my entire future. The ham radio antennas are long gone. The truck farm that bordered our backyard when we moved into the house was sold while we lived there and developed into more homes. The swimming pool is also long gone (at least as far as I could see from the street). But, I know the recreation room, half bathroom and the laundry room, where I developed film and enlarged black and white prints from my early photography days, are still there. I know the bedroom over the family room where my interest in shortwave and ham radio was conceived is still there. And, I'm reasonably sure the "ham shack" in the basement, although repurposed, is very likely still there, too.

The house is a different color now. I've been wracking my memory trying to remember what the original color was. I think it was brown. Otherwise the house and the neighborhood appear to look pretty much unchanged. However, while I'm sure most or all of the people who owned the homes along Manor Drive have since left the Earth, my memories are still very much alive and legion 54 years later. 

Photo-of-the-Week #140 - Home #2 Of My Early Years, Clifton, New Jersey, September 2013

While this may seem like just a house to you and other casual viewers, it's an integral part of the journal of my life. The house pictured is the second house my parents bought and had somewhat customized to our family requirements. On the left side of the house were older homes that were part of an older development, probably ten years or older than our new home. Our house and the homes to the right of us were all part of a new development that was built in a reclaimed, low, flat area that had basically been a swamp and was filled in to develop the housing project. There were two houses in the development like ours. The one we had and another almost identical to it at the other end of the one block long section of new homes. The rest of the houses were all very basic Cape Cod style houses, very similar to the one we left behind on Stanley Street.

When we moved into this home I was in 4th grade, my younger sister was in 1st grade and when we left this home to move to the next, there were five of us in the family. My youngest sister was born while we lived in this home. I attended 4th through the first have of 6th grade in this house. It was the first home to have a garage. Behind the garage was an enclosed porch where we had put the old 19" Zenith TV (that I would eventually take with me to Syracuse, NY and to Washington DC and Annapolis, Maryland. I remember watching the Mickey Mouse Club (with my heart throb, Annette Funicello) and the new national sensation, Dick Clark and American Bandstand.

You can't really tell from the photo, but the house is actually a larger Cape Cod turned sideways on the lot. There was a full basement under the house. The first floor had a living room, dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom (we still had only one bathroom). Upstairs in the back section of the house was a third bedroom that was mine. It was, as I recall, about three times the size of the bedroom my sister and I shared in the Stanley Street Cape Cod. The front section of the upstairs was attic storage space.

Very few homes in New Jersey were built with central air conditioning in those days. If you look, you can see a window air conditioner in the front window on the right side of the house. That is the master bedroom. You can't see it through the mature tree that was just a thin young tree when we moved in, but behind the leaves in the upper part of the gable was a large louvered vent that my father had installed with a very large exhaust fan. During the summers we would open windows throughout the house and draw air through the house and out through that exhaust fan and vent. That was our form of air conditioning in those days.

This was our family home from the fall of 1954 until the winter of 1956. It seems to me that the original color was a pinkish rose, but I'm not positive of that. I think the original siding has been replaced.

This I Believe: To Be or Not To Be . . . Free!

I write this blog not to be about my day-to-day life and activities, as many blogs are, although some of the articles are about my activities and me. My real purpose for writing here is to express my thoughts, observations and philosophies on life and the meaning of it, as I perceive it and those of others' that seem similar. It's never been my intention to pontificate, though I know I have come across that way from time to time. I simply use this medium to put my thoughts on the table to allow you to consider them, adopt or adapt anything that may be useful and ponder the meaning, purpose and belief systems in your own life.

This is a continual growth process. As I look back at the early posts on this blog, I can see where I was often single or closed-minded, opinionated (my way is the right way) and, from time to time, arrogant. I am working at being less so and more open-minded. Now, to be sure, I have my personal belief system and I stand by it for MY life. But, I also accept that it may not work the same for your life. One of my beliefs, as I've stated many times, is that we are all born, for an instant in time, personally free. It's a natural thing. The next time we are again personally free is at the moment life ends. These are the two most important events in everyone's life. As my dear, late friend, Rosita Perez would say, "Being born, Big Stuff! Dying, Big Stuff! Everything between those two events, Small Stuff! So, don't sweat the small stuff."

From time to time I'm going to write intimately about some of my personal beliefs. I don't have any expectations that you will either agree or disagree with me. I put them on the table for your inspection. Sometimes you'll relate to them. Other times you'll feel very differently. That's okay because that's exactly what personal freedom is all about. If we don't have differences and we all think alike and agree on everything, there will be no progress or evolution. Heck! We would all still be running around naked or wearing fig leaves and searching for caves to live in without people thinking differently. There are still people in the U.S. who do not have cars or trucks and believe that the good old horse and wagon is the proper form of transportation. If it works for them, so be it.

I'm going to call this series of posts, "This I Believe . . ." Read them. Ponder them. Adopt, adapt or reject them. Nothing I write is meant to make you to take any action. I simply want to express my beliefs at the time I write the article based on my own personal life journey, experience, progress and evolution. If anything I write helps you solidify your own beliefs, whether similar to mine or diametrically opposed, then I'll feel fulfilled in my mission to leave this planet a little better than it was when I arrived.

To Be Or Not To Be

So, I begin with the "To be or not to be," question from Hamlet. You may remember the rest of the soliloquy, which is fine (or you can look it up), but I'm taking my departure from this point. My question is, "To be or not to be free?" I'm not going to go into a long explanation of the definition of "free." You either know what it means to be free or you don't, as it applies to your life in specific. Freedom comes in all kinds of sizes, shapes, colors and shades of gray.

So, here are my thoughts on being free. I live in what is termed a "free country" and a "free society" where I have been feeling less and less free over the past several decades. However, I feel there is a very real paradox at work here. Advances in technology have afforded us more and more personal freedom in so many ways since my youth in the late 40's, 50's and 60's. It's not necessary to list everything that has advanced or the causes of the changes, but here are just a few that I can honestly say have positively impacted my life and personal freedom.

*Electronic Media (radio, television, recordings, photography, cable and satellite delivery)

*Computers (they operate just about everything including our wrist watches)

*Telecommunications (telephones, fax machines, cellular phones)

*Digital Technology (now the basis for all of the above)

*Microwave Ovens

*Vehicular Travel (safer, better, faster, longer lasting, more reliable cars, trucks, trains & planes)

*Energy

*Food Production

*Medicine (treatment, procedures and pharmaceuticals)

*Work (occupations, professions, industrial, office, etc.)

This is a short list. But, as with everything, there are pros and cons. While I have greatly benefited from so much of the continually advancing technology, I also believe some of it has hampered, hindered or even negatively impacted some of my personal freedom. This is the other side of the paradox. Not everything perceived by the inventor or creator of something is necessarily good in application. Life is not like the law of gravity. It is dynamic, not finite.

Freedom isn't something that can be specifically quantified. It is a complex concept that requires each individual to define what makes him or her believe they are free or not free. An extreme example of this would be military personal that are captured by the enemy and held as prisoners of war. During the Vietnam War many POW's were imprisoned in what has euphemistically called the "Hanoi Hilton." I personally know two men who spent seven years of their lives enjoying the "hospitality" and "luxury" afforded them by their North Vietnamese captors. I guarantee that their experiences during those seven years were the extreme opposite and many died in those POW prisons. What kept the survivors alive and able to get through another day was their belief that they were still free in their own minds. They didn't allow their captors to take that freedom.

I know another man who spent 12 years incarcerated in Folsom State Prison, a well-known, maximum-security facility in California. He was an educated man, a highly regarded professional and best selling author. However, he made a couple very major mistakes and bad choices that ended him up in that institution. In his case, though he was relegated to a tiny cell and surrounded mostly by hardened criminals who where there because of violent crimes against society, he kept his mind free. He wrote captions for cartoons that he mailed to a couple clients in exchange for small sums of money he used to buy food at the prison canteen, thus, avoiding the prison dining environment and cuisine as much as possible. While his physical freedom was taken away, just as it was with the POW's, he still found a way to feel free. He came out of prison to a world full of cell phones and smart phones, an Internet he'd had no experience with and a very different place than it was twelve years earlier.

Born Free

As I've noted numerous times, I grew up in a very different time and place. Most of us kids had moms at home and dads who worked. We could play on the streets without fear of being run over by massive traffic and speeding cars. We could ride our bikes to our friends in our own towns or adjoining towns without fear of being kidnapped, molested or preyed upon. The police, while stern, were our friends. We didn't wear helmets and all kinds of protective pads when we rode our bikes and few of us got hurt. We could go into stores by ourselves. I can remember walking three blocks to the barbershop by myself when I was seven and eight years old.

Now, this was in a large city (the 11th largest city in New Jersey) only 12 miles from Manhattan. Of course there were still dangers. Yes, there were kidnappings. Cars hit kids. There were murders, beatings, rapes, bank robberies and such (after all, I did live in the Tony Soprano's territory). But, I honestly never felt in danger, threatened, in fear for my life or safety. I guess I can say, for a kid, I felt FREE. And, I've never allowed that feeling of personal freedom to leave my mind and heart. However, that's not the world I live in anymore. As you know, if you've been reading the blog for a while, I just came back from spending a couple weeks in my hometown and the surrounding area, my old "stomping grounds." While much of the place looks the same on the surface and I didn't feel particularly unsafe or threatened, I can honestly say, I didn't feel the freedom I left there with 46 years ago. I was free in my mind, but I saw a place where I felt constrained, restricted, limited and insecure. That feeling was compounded when I visited my old high school (the new high school when I graduated as the first class from the, then, new, groundbreaking facility, now 50 years old) and found the place locked down like a fortress, or even a prison. Students and faculty/staff have to use ID encrypted security badges to enter the premises. There's no freedom there anymore.

Yes, I know it's a "Brave New World" full of terrorists, others with mental health issues or deficiencies and just plain corrupt, greedy and evil people. But, they've always been in the world. Heck! We were prepared as elementary school kids to be turned into "crispy critters" as the result of a Russian atomic bomb attack. There were spies and other evildoers. The Communists were going to overrun us and take over and we'd all be shipped to gulags. But, as a society, we've allowed the folks with mental issues, who really need to be cared for since they aren't able to properly care for themselves, to roam freely and some even do dastardly things including rapes, mass murders and terrorize entire towns and cities. We've basically lost (or didn't win) every war we've been involved in since World War II (including Iraq and Afghanistan and the War on Terrorism) because we don't play to win and probably shouldn't have allowed whatever got us into the war to happen in the first place. The result is that we not only haven't "saved the world," we've relinquished more and more of our personal freedom and privacy to "supposedly" feel secure.

Not To Be Free

So, not to beat a dead horse, this isn't the United States of America I grew up in. This isn't the same "Land of the Free" I saluted the flag and pledged allegiance to. Heck, some schools are attempting to eliminate the Pledge of Allegiance because they don't have time or it might "offend" some immigrants from a foreign land. The Freedom of Speech right no longer exists because we can't say a prayer in public (isn't a prayer speech), it might offend others. We have to use politically correct language because if you don't you may offend someone or a group of people and worse, yet, it will be construed as racist and hate speak. Of course, it's okay to use the "s" word, the "f-bomb" and any other colorful combinations of words I would have had my mouth washed out with soap if I used them as a kid. It's now common accepted language of not only men, but, women, teenagers and children in public, in restaurants, in movie theaters, on TV (cable/satellite - though they only use innuendos on broadcast TV that fewer and fewer people watch off the air). It's okay for high-ranking government officials to use plain language to mislead, lie or make official comments in public when they don't know what they're talking about. The issues are legion and have cost us so much freedom. Oh yeah, it's never "our fault." It's always someone else's fault whether it's a domestic or international issue. 

The point is that this is not my kind of freedom. Believe me, looking back through history, both at our country's and world history; I realize that what I described as freedom during my youth was a limited perspective. Total freedom would, unfortunately, be a world of anarchy as described in the most negative of definitions. Of course, anarchy is not necessarily what the vast majority of people have come to understand it to be. Personal freedom must be something each individual has to define for him or herself. There is no one size fits all. In large urban and suburban regions (51% of the world population and 79% of the U.S. population live in these areas) there is a requirement for a lot more authority, laws, rules, ordinances, etc. This is because of all the individual definitions of personal freedom. So, in order to maintain law and order and alleviate as much disorder, discord and intolerance, those who choose to live in these urban/suburban areas agree to relinquish, in my opinion, significant amounts of personal freedom. I often shake my head in wonderment when I hear of some of the things people are restricted from doing on their own property or in their own condo or apartment.

The thing that bothers me is that the federal government  mandates so many of these laws for the urban/suburban dwellers. But, because they are federal laws they apply to those who choose to live in rural, low population density regions as well. This deprives and hinders people from living free on their own land as they choose. Of course there is much to debate about this, however, it's become an impossible situation to resolve, especially in the United States because there are so many thousands of laws. It's seldom that any of them ever get repealed or that any of them are written to apply to specific regions, groups or situations - urban as opposed to rural.

To Be Free

Here it is. I choose to grab and hold onto as much personal freedom as I can. In today's world that's still not very much. But, I'm willing to give up having shopping centers every block or two, thousands of restaurants offering hundreds of cuisines, a plethora of box stores and clothing stores offering every conceivable style of clothes, designer labels and the latest electronic gadgets, etc. known to the human race. I'm not only ready, I'm doing it because that's what is necessary for me to hold onto whatever personal freedom I can have. I didn't like someone running my life in the military, which is why I turned down two good opportunities to stay in the Air Force. I don't like someone telling me where I'm going to work what I'm going to do and how much I'm going to be paid, which is why I chose an entrepreneurial career path. I don't like anyone telling me what I can or can't do with my own personal property. I I did my best to play by those rules as long as I could and finally decided it was time to be true to myself.

I have absolutely no problem with anyone who chooses to live by more restrictive laws, rules, ordinances, etc. If this is how anyone chooses to define freedom, I cannot dispute the choice. That certainly is his or her freedom of choice and not my place to pass judgment. It doesn't change my relationship with them. It doesn't cause me to think any more or any less of them. To think or feel otherwise would be hypocritical. I am free to make my choices and everyone else is free to make theirs. We still have that freedom, so far. But, in my personal opinion and expressing (whatever is left of) my right to freedom of speech, I will consider my lifestyle "to be free" and the lifestyle of those who choose to live by an unknowable number of laws, rules, ordinances, restrictions and limitations, "to not be free" or, at least, less free by my personal definition. 

This I believe.     

Photo-of-the-Week #136 - My Grandmother's Grave Marker, Cedar Lawn Cemetery, Paterson, New Jersey, September 2013

It seems that many of us begin looking for our roots at some stage of life. After the kids are grown and we're at the end of our professional career seems to be a time when we can change gears and focus on other aspects of our lives that we didn't have time for earlier.

I took this photo of my grandmother's grave when I was on my recent 'Shakedown Cruise" to New Jersey and my hometown, Clifton, New Jersey. Yes! That is "the Hat" on her marker. It was my way of reaching out to her. I guess I should also make note of the fact that I had never seen my grandmother's grave before. She was simply a name to me. Obviously, since she died 13 years before I was born, I never met her. Unfortunately, my son never met his grandfather either, my grandmother's son and my father, because he died 11 years before my son was born. I have also never met my grandfather and have no idea where to find him or anything about him.

So, as you can see, this was, for me, a moving experience. I spent quite a bit of time at this spot just reflecting and wondering what she was like. She's actually in a family plot with her parents and bothers and sisters. Cedar Lawn Cemetery is the family cemetery, their whole family is there, my maternal grandparents are there and my mother and father are there. I finally went to the administration office and had them look up the plot and tell me where to find it. So, this photo represents another connection in my life.  

Photo-of-the-Week #134 - The Changing New York City Skyline, Alpine, New Jersey, October 2013

In my lifetime, I have seen this section of the Manhattan Island (New York City) skyline change three times. Where I was born and raised in northern New Jersey I could clearly see the New York City skyline. For the 22 1/2 years I called New Jersey my home, there were no giant skyscrapers at the south end of Manhattan Island. A few years after I moved away from that region, first one, then a second giant tower became the prominent landmarks of that part of the island. I was in one of the towers around 1980 and up to about the 80th floor. After 2011 the southern part of Manhattan looked much like it did when I grew up in the region. Now, 2013, the skyline has changed a third time.

Here is the new World Trade Tower. It is now, including its antenna spire on the top, the tallest building structure in the United States at 1776 feet tall. I took this photo shortly after the structure was completed, though it's still not officially open for occupancy, yet. So, I have this photo of the new tower shortly before it's official dedication. I also have photos of the twin towers I took from a boat on the Hudson River three months before their tragic destruction.

Once again, I have to express my amazement at modern digital technology. I took this photo with the new "point and shoot" Samsung digital camera I purchased earlier this year. I was actually located about fifteen miles, line of sight, from the new tower when I shot this photo. Believe it or not, this is a handheld shot steadied on a rock. For those of you familiar with that region, I took the photo from a scenic overlook off the Palisades Interstate Parkway near Alpine, New Jersey.

This little camera has an excellent Schneider zoom lens with an additional 4X digital zoom. This photo was taken using the equivalent of approximately a 1,700mm telephoto 35mm lens. I'm sure a large sensor camera with a huge, heavy 1,700mm fixed focal length lens on a solid tripod base would deliver a significantly better photo. But, for a mere $179.95, I'm quite thrilled with the capabilities of this little camera. And the best part is that I've only been using this camera on its automatic mode. I can also change to manual mode with the turn of a dial and I can adjust all the camera's functions manually.

By the way, the bridge you see in the foreground is the George Washington Bridge that I had crossed only a couple days earlier when returning from Long Island on my way to meet up with my college buddy, Greg and his wife, Mary, for a late lunch, not far from the GW bridge.  

Photo-of-the-Week #133 - The First Home (I Remember), Clifton, New Jersey, September 2013

34 Stanley Street, Clifton, New Jersey

Some people never leave their hometown or the area they were raised. Some people leave the area, but return home frequently to spend time with their parents, family and friends. Some people are raised in families where the parents occupation requires them to move frequently, like the military, and they never establish deep roots. And some people just leave, ultimately sever all ties with their hometown and never look back. I am one of the people of the last description. I grew up and lived all but a couple years in my hometown of Clifton, New Jersey then left at age 22, for several reasons, and never looked back. As I jokingly describe my hometown to others, Clifton was a small farming community of close to 100,000 population 12 miles west of New York City. To others who are in the know (they are from New Jersey) I grew up between exits 153 and 154.

A few weeks back I posted a photo of the home I believed was the second place I lived with my parents and I have very scant memories of. The memories are probably a cross between old photos I haven't seen in over 50 years, recalling discussions of the place and minute images that are more dreamlike than real. The home pictured above is 34 Stanley Street in Clifton. This was the first home my parents owned and we moved to this house when I was not yet four years old. I know that because one of the first events I remember happening in that home was the birth of my first of two sisters. The year was either later in 1948 or the very beginning of 1949.

On my September road trip to New Jersey, one of my missions was to visit and take photos of all the homes I lived in, the schools I attended and other important places from my youth. I accomplished that goal. This being the first house I truly remember as a child. I actually remember the names of most of the neighbors within several houses on either side of my block and the kids I played with. I remember several of the kids I went to Public School #5 with. I remember the Bobink Village Shopping Center that was brand new and only about four blocks from our house with a supermarket that was smaller than a current day Walgreen drugstore. I have a vast array of very vivid memories of the approximately 4 1/2 to 5 years at this house.

Physically, the house looks very much the way it did when I last lived there. The white asbestos shingles have been replaced, the color has changed, and the small, young tree in the front yard has grown to a large, mature shade tree. When we moved in there was a fairly large farm that made up the back border of our property. That was sold and developed into more homes before we left the neighborhood and now there are large mature trees lining the back of the property. It was a very small house with only a small living room, eat-in kitchen, a small bedroom my sister and I shared and an only slightly larger master bedroom. We had only one small bathroom and the heat for the entire house came through a grate in the center foyer that was over a coal fired furnace in the basement (that was later converted to an oil burning furnace). My father built a great recreation room in the basement that was the size of half of the house and housed my Lionel electric trains and his home drafting table. The other half of the basement was where the coal bin was originally, the laundry area with the old ringer washing machine my mother had and my father's workshop. The dormer on the front of the house was added about a year before we moved to our next home.

It was just the four of us at that time. We left when I was nine years old and my sister was five years old. From everything I remember it was a happy home and one where I felt secure. I didn't realize how small it was because I really didn't have much of a frame of reference. It was where I saw the "Northern Lights" (the Aurora Borealis). It was where I learned to ride a bicycle and suffered a severely cut hand from a push lawnmower my cousin and I were fooling around with that caused an infection to set in and rage up my arm. I still have the remnant of the scar on my right hand. Needless to say, this part of my history is very rich in memories, life lessons and as a place where I began to form into the person I would eventually become.

Have you returned to your roots? Have you revisited the home or homes you grew up in? Have you relived the events and dreams that launched you into who you have become? Some people don't want to go back to those places in their lives. But, I think it can be a very cathartic experience. I probably won't revisit these places again during the rest of my life. I have the photos and they stimulate the memories. I hope, if you haven't already, that you make the effort to go back and review your personal history. 

More Progress On My McVansion And Other Things

So, I've been a bit lax on posting lately. My apologies. It's not that I have nothing to say. It's simply that I've been running out of time before running out of things to do. I'm sure you've experienced this situation from time to time yourself. The last road trips have been excellent, however, they were typical of most of my road trips during my earlier years. I was on a "mission" and attempted to include as many things as I possibly could into the trips. As a recovering "Type A" workaholic personality, my "To Do" list always had far more items on it than could be accomplished in the day I had designated to do them all. So it is with my road trips. Now, that's not to say that I didn't accomplish a lot. Actually, I accomplished most of the things I had planned, just not everything. And, of course, keeping up with emails, blog posts, phone calls and other similar activities seemed to fall behind. I guess the old saying, "the faster I go, the behinder I get," aptly applies here.

So, to set the record straight, I'm the guy with a blog titled "Living Free" and a philosophy of doing everything I can to have the least number of restrictions, limitations and encumbrances on my time and life. Yet, I'm still caught up in the whirlpool of having way too many irons on the fire and things to do. I guess I still have some work to do, would you agree?

A Road Trips Recap

#1

The September road trip to New Jersey was great! I got to visit most of the places I had planned to get to. I saw most of the friends I wanted to see on that trip including spending a little time with my younger (the middle child of the three of us) sister and her husband, went to the Voice Over Barbecue and met many on-line friends from that unique professional niche, sampled the foods at some of my favorite childhood restaurants and even, through interesting circumstances, enjoyed the serendipity of visiting the Thomas Edison Laboratory where my father worked until his untimely death in the beginning of 1967. The Edison Laboratory and the remaining grounds from the original, huge, multi-block complex in West Orange, New Jersey is now a national historical park. Again, the timing was right because, had I been there just a couple weeks later and the ridiculous government shutdown would have had the gates closed and locked and I wouldn't have walked through that historic building where not only did Edison invent many of the things that changed our lives forever, but where my father was instrumental in designing the guidance systems that made the space program and humans walking on the moon possible.

#2

The second road trip to Texas, again, on a mission to work on a conference at the Hyatt Grand Hotel on the River Walk in San Antonio, Texas, was equally a successful trip. Of course, the conference was covered and recorded, though we experienced a few serious challenges in that particular property. But, I was able to deliver a plaque that posthumously recognized a beloved, humorous professional speaker to his daughter in Austin. I met a new friend near Austin who shared his vast collection of vintage magnetic recording equipment with me at his home. The experience brought back so many memories as I looked at and touched so many of the dozens of professional and semi-professional recorders I used during my 50 year career in the recording industry. Not only that, but I even saw copies of some tapes that were very likely edited, duplicated and distributed from my studios and tape duplication plant in Washington, DC during the 1970's. The circle completes. I visited one of my former business partners and his wife, Pat, from the '70's. Troy continued his military career and retired from the Air Force to retire to New Braunfels, Texas where he started a successful silk screening business, which he is now retired from. From there I met up with and enjoyed a couple days visiting a former author of my book publishing company and another unique professional speaker friend and his wife in Kerrville, Texas. Scott has been dealing with Parkinson's Disease for several years and is a fantastic inspiration as is his wife, Melanie. I also met up with another new friend I met through the Internet, specifically, LinkedIn. Marvin Willis is the founder of the Hometown Hero - Hero Card, a really great small business idea that I'm still milling over in my mind as to how I can work with Marvin and still focus on my own goals. Finally, I visited with a former employee, a recording engineer, who worked with me in my studios in Washington, DC during the mid 70's. Bill and his wife, Diane, hosted me to a wonderful dinner and breakfast at their beautiful home outside Austin, Texas. Bill is still active in audio and video production, though he indicated that he's also slowing down. Diane retired this past December from her position as the Director of Administration for the Lt. Governor of Texas. I also had an opportunity to meet Bill's son from his first marriage who is a contractor working for the U.S. government in Afghanistan. He was back stateside on some leave time. There were many more people along the routes to and from the San Antonio mission that I would have loved to have spent some time with, but, as seems to happen all too often on mission based travel, there was just no more time in the schedule.

#3

I made a short excursion to Mechanicsburg, Pennsylvania in mid-October to attend the ribbon cutting and dedication of the Charlie "Tremendous" Jones Conference Center. Charlie was a long time friend, mentor, colleague, client and even a father figure at times. He passed away as the result of prostate cancer on October 16, 2008. Five years to the day of his passing his daughter, Tracey Jones, had the dedication and ribbon cutting ceremony to remember her father. I enjoyed visiting with other members of Charlie's family including his widow, Gloria, still radiant and glowing and one of his sons and his youngest daughter. I also met several people, some I knew from earlier encounters, but four new folks included Giff Briner, Board Chairman and owner of WPFG, a Christian radio station in Carlisle, Pennsylvania, Cal Beyer, Vice-president of Murray Securus, a risk management company from Lancaster, Pennsylvania and John Eshleman and his wife from Upland, California who is the Region IV Director for the Mennonite Disaster Service. Wow! I enjoyed very stimulating and inspiring discussions with everyone and came back from that trip with many new insights. Of course, my friend, Tracey Jones, who has stepped into her father's footprints, is an amazing woman and most assuredly, a "chip off the old block." I have great admiration for this very accomplished, motivated and inspirational woman. Once again, I stayed at Tracey's "guest hut," as she calls it, and she's made it clear that it's my accommodations whenever I'm in the area and it's not previously spoken for.

#4

Finally, the last road trip began on October 23rd and took me on a long day's drive from the West Virginia base camp to Riverhead, New York on Long Island for a very special wedding of my grad school buddy's daughter, Kelly. Riverhead is near the famous Hamptons and not too far from the eastern tip of Long Island at Montauk Point. The trip was a bit longer than it might have been had I not been dealing with what turned out to be a urinary tract infection. It's the first time (and I hope the last and only time) I've ever had such an infection. Unfortunately, due to the number of things on my agenda from the time I returned from the Pennsylvania trip I didn't have time to get to my regular doctor before I left. So, first I attended the wedding on Long Island (one of the best, if not the best, wedding parties I've ever attended). Friday morning after breakfast with my friends, I headed back to New Jersey for a late 2:00 PM lunch (that lasted until about 6:30) with my college friend, Greg, and his wife, Mary. Then to my overnight location at the Pilot Travel Center (you likely saw the "David and Goliath" Photo of the Week that I posted a couple weeks ago at the Travel Center). It was Saturday morning and I found a walk in "doc in the box" urgent care center in Parsippany, New Jersey where I went and finally saw a doctor, got the formal diagnosis and a prescription for some antibiotics. I took the prescription to another Walmart in the region to check it out as a possible overnight parking location. Well, the script was filled, but the Walmart was not a candidate for an overnight location.

I arrived at my favorite hot dog hang out, Rutt's Hut, in my hometown of Clifton, New Jersey at around 4:00 PM, just moments before my old high school buddy, Art, rolled in after driving about 100 miles from the New Jersey Shore to meet up, eat hot dogs, drink birch beer and talk about old times. We occupied a table until about 9:15 PM when Art went on to his brothers and I made my way to the North Bergen Walmart to consider it as an overnight parking place. It's on the list, but I decided to go back to the more familiar Walmart in Garfield, New Jersey, my father's hometown (just across the Passaic River from Clifton, New Jersey). Sunday I met up with my oldest nephew, had a brunch with him and then attended his hand bell choir recording session. I then checked out the Walmart at the Meadowlands where the Giants football stadium is located. I spent the night there, met up with some 18 wheeler truck drivers in the morning and then headed out for lunch with a couple of college friends, one was the former Chief Engineer for the college radio station we launched and the other took over the "reins of power" from me when I graduated. From there I met up with a couple more old college friends who were members of my Industrial Arts major. Tuesday was a day off and I decided to do some exploring and made my way out to the Palisades and up to the Alpine Marina on the Hudson River where I spent a couple summers boating with my grad school buddy and his parents. I also revisited the old Armstrong Tower where Major Edwin Armstrong, the inventor of modern radio communication and broadcasting, was the first to broadcast with his invention, frequency modulation or FM, as most people know it. I wrapped up Tuesday with a visit to the new Italian Restaurant and Pizzeria named Barilari's located about a block from my old favorite hometown pizza place, Mario's. I wrote about Mario's previously. Barilari's is owned by Kenny Barilari, the grandson of the original owners of Mario's, and his mission is to carry on the tradition of his grandparents. I'll write more about my visit to Barilari's in the near future.

Finally, on Wednesday I returned to Montclair State University where I had lunch with the general manager of WMSC, the radio station I started 46 years ago, hung out in the production lounge with a bunch of the current crop of "radio types," and finally spoke to a group of them at their weekly meeting later in the afternoon. My hope was to give them a bit of history and a challenge for their station's future and their own futures. I then found my way back to My McVansion, parked in a far off parking lot, and began my journey back to base camp in Keyser, West Virginia. I spent the previous couple evenings at the Garfield Walmart and I spent that last evening overnighting at the Phillipsburg, New Jersey Walmart. Oh, and that inconvenient little infection I was dealing with was pretty much gone as the antibiotics the doctor prescribed made quick work of the errant bacteria.

Why A Recap?

While much of this is a recap of some earlier posts, it's also a reminder to myself just how much I enjoy being on the road, meeting new people, reconnecting with old friends, exploring new sites and revisiting places that hold major significance in my life. It also served as a reminder that I'm still attempting to do too much in too little time. I didn't have, or maybe it would be better said that I didn't allow and make time to prepare meaningful posts for this blog. For those who read the blog regularly and look forward at least to something interesting if not enlightening and uplifting or, maybe, informative, I apologize. Writing this blog is one of the more important aspects of who I am and who I'm becoming. So, I not only let you down, who (I hope) gain some little tidbits of inspiration and ideas from this blog, but I let myself down.

This is something I have to work at. I tell other people we simply can't do everything. I attempt to help people realize that we'll all die one day and leave unfinished business behind...and that's okay. But, the one person who needs to truly believe and heed these thoughts is, yours truly...ME. As President George W. Bush used to say (and this has nothing to do with his or your politics), "I'm the decider." That's true for all of us and I especially need to realize and accept that I can't do it all, must select between the voluminous number of things I want to do and be the "decider" of what I really, really want to do. In other words, I need to pick and choose and then prioritize. Living free is a fantastic experience, however, it's also an awesome opportunity and responsibility. If we try to do it all we get mired down and ultimately get little or nothing done. So, hang with me and pass on your thoughts and ideas about the things you want to do and how you're able to (if you are, yet) pick, choose, decide and prioritize.

My McVansion Progress Report

So, to wrap up this post, today, here are the latest upgrades to My McVansion. People often wonder how those who choose to travel and/or live full-time in the confines of 50 or less square feet take care of various necessities of life. One of these necessities is, hopefully, to not be too indelicate or graphic, the elimination of bodily wastes. Yes! It's one of the things we all must do no matter what our station in life, but it's also something many people don't want to focus on, despite its importance to good health and hygiene. There are a variety of ways that people living in small spaces like the confines of a van or a utility trailer or the new trend known as Tiny Houses take care of this necessity. Each method has advantages and disadvantages and the costs vary across the spectrum. A full size, commercially designed and manufactured RV (motor home or trailer) will typically have an actual bathroom facility built in with running water and holding tanks for the waste. Periodically, the fresh water tank has to be filled or connected to an external potable water supply and the waste holding tanks have to be dumped in an appropriate waste dumping station or connected to an external sewage system. In this instance, taking care of necessary bodily functions is not much different than if one lives in the average house or apartment anywhere in the U.S.

The options are several for those of us who choose to use vans or utility trailers as our travel/living facilities. I won't go into all the options in this post. However, I will tell you about mine. First, when I'm traveling and when I'm parking overnight, my first choice is to find public facilities. Public facilities are plentiful and include rest areas along interstates and major highways across the U.S. Next come gas station/convenience stores/fast food restaurants. Most large retail establishments including Walmart, Target, Kmart, supermarkets, Costco's, Sam's Clubs, shopping malls and similar also have public rest rooms. There are, of course, others that can be added to this list.

When I'm not traveling and I'm parked for the night or even semi-permanently in a location where public restrooms are not conveniently located, my next line of convenience enters the picture. As a male, I have a distinct advantage over females when it comes to voiding my bladder, so for that purpose I carry a half-gallon, opaque, yellow plastic milk container. It's certainly not inconspicuous when I carry it into a public rest area rest room to empty, but at least it's not transparent making it even more obvious as to its contents. I use a little liquid bleach with some water to wash it out and keep it sanitary. This works very well for me and, frankly, has saved me from extreme discomfort on more than one occasion.

The other and, certainly, more obvious appliance addition to My McVansion is the new Sanitation Equipment Visa Porta Potty Model 268. This unit is well built, has excellent ratings everywhere I've looked for reviews, is economical and has the largest holding tank capacity of the numerous similar appliances available on the market. It has a 6.3 gallon solid waste capacity with a 3.7 gallon fresh water (for flushing) capacity. I won't go into any other details other than to say that depending on my travels and the availability of public facilities along my route, I can go between three and four weeks with this unit between visits to appropriate dumping stations.

  

The Visa Porta Potty is situated on a plywood floor with furring strips around the base so it can't slide. To the left of the porta potty on the same plywood base will be a 2.7 cu. ft. compressor refrigerator. The plywood base will be stained to match the rest of the wood in the van along with being sealed so water, although there should be none, can't seep through to the remaining carpet under the plywood. Additionally, when I'm finished with the construction, both the porta potty and the refrigerator will be enclosed in plywood cabinets, also stained to match the rest of the interior wood and there will be a cover over the porta potty with a cushion so that when not in use, the porta potty will be concealed and provide some seating space. The top of the refrigerator cabinet will support a small microwave oven. The yellow bottle is also concealed when not in use, but is readily available when needed.

 The wheel well to the right of the porta potty is going to be concealed by a wooden enclosure that will support a six drawer storage unit for office supplies, cables, cords and adapters for audio, video and photographic interfacing and similar misc. necessities along with a small file box to keep necessary paperwork in. The cabinet and the wheel well enclosure are under construction currently. By the end of next week, I am planning to have the large 245 amp hour, deep cycle battery on board the van so I can begin putting in the 12 volt DC and the 110 volt AC wiring. So, the progress continues on My McVansion to make it a very habitable and hospitable environment for me to travel and live in for extended periods of time.  

From Wedding Bells to Hand Bells

So, I hope that's an intriguing title. Yes! I attended a wedding this past Thursday in a little know place called Aquebogue, New York unless you're familiar with eastern Long Island. It's next to Riverhead and a hop, skip and a jump from the Hamptons of Long Island fame. It's a very pretty area of the country (as are so many others). No! It wasn't my wedding. That's never going to happen again. As the old saying goes, "been there, done that, got the T shirt, don't need to go back." It was the wedding of my grad school buddy's daughter, the buddy whose wife, who I did a post about two years ago, Sweet Caroline died two years ago in North Carolina. Kelly is probably the closest I ever came to having a daughter of my own. She's a professional entertainer, starting out at age 9.

The wedding was beautiful (that's pretty good coming from a guy who usually doesn't qualify weddings in that manner), totally unique from the Golden Gloves winner who officiated, the bridal party, the location, the setting (yes, the ceremony was outdoors and it wasn't particularly warm) and the food was phenomenal. But, how many weddings have any of you reading this been two that had not one band, but TWO bands. And, I'm not talking about your traditional small wedding combo (most people seem to use DJ's these days due to expense). I'm talking about a full "Big Band" like those of the Dorsey, Glenn Miller, Arte Shaw era - with both a male and female singer fronting the band. The second band was about a 12 or 13 piece rock/jazz/soul/funk/blues band, again, fronted by both male and female singers. When I say this party was a wall banger - I mean a WALL BANGER. There was so much excitement and electricity in that room that you couldn't really help but vibrate from all the great vibes.

Now, to be fair, the bride is one of the regular female vocalists who fronts both of these two bands and the groom, well, let me just say he can make a sax wail with the best of them and he also normally performs with both bands. Yes, each of them did do at least a couple numbers with each band. But, if I have my way, this will be the last wedding I attend - and I'm glad it was this kind of amazing experience. (I'm not much into weddings or funerals at this stage of life).

Catching Up With MORE Old Friends

Upon returning to New Jersey on Friday afternoon, I met up with my old college friend, Greg and his lovely and very patient and tolerant (of the two of us) wife Mary. We had a wonderful lunch that lasted from 2 PM until something after 6 PM. It was great seeing them again. I had met with them back in September and we did the same thing. Wonderful couple and it's a privilege having them for friends.

Yesterday (Saturday) I made a visit to an urgent care center to have an infection checked out that began several days before I left on this current trip. There just wasn't any time to stop and get it taken care of. The "Doc in the Box" checked me out, prescribed an antibiotic that had already kicked in by this morning and I'm feeling a lot better already.

Then last night an old high school buddy (you know one of those guys you used to get into a variety of mischief with drove a hundred miles from the New Jersey south shore and met me at Rutt's Hut. Yep! That's the home of the "Ripper" hot dogs in our hometown of Clifton, New Jersey. We met up at about 4:15 PM and left after a couple "Rippers" each, some onion rings, French fries and three glasses of birch beer - the really good stuff - each at 9:15 PM. We covered a lot of territory in those five hours including why he finally sold the family home he inherited from his parents and left Clifton to never return and moved to live by the ocean, far from the maddening crowds of North Jersey. He indicated that down where he was the local full-time residents were the old farmers, fisherman, oystermen and Red Necks all - a welcome change from his old neighborhood that had changed completely into what he termed a "Third World country." I had to admit, what I found of my hometown could easily fit his description. While it all looked much like it did when I left 46 years ago, culturally it wasn't even close to what it was when I grew up there . . . and I can't say, from my perspective, it's for the better.

Hand Bells

Now, let me talk about hand bells. Today I met and had lunch with my eldest nephew. Interestingly, one of his first comments was that he couldn't wait to finish off ten more years in his county job to earn his full pension. Then his plan is to leave New Jersey for anywhere there is no snow and a more "friendly" society. Of course, it's not that there aren't wonderful, pleasant, kind, generous and hard working people in the northern New Jersey region. It's simply that they are being displaced by multiple cultures moving in. Now, remember, this area was populated originally by immigrants, mainly from Europe, the U.K., Ireland, some with African and Hispanic ancestral origins. But, while there was a certain amount of maintaining their national identities, they assimilated into a common community. Things are just very different now. From his perspective, his home area has changed around him. From my perspective, it's much more impacting since I remember it all as I left it and now I visit and it's like night and day.

At any rate, we had a pleasant lunch and talked about lots of things. Since Brian is over 40 now, I feel like I can talk with him man to man, no child is he any longer. He's a taxpaying, hard working member of the mainstream society now. (What happened to all those years)?

My nephew is both an accomplished organist and a hand bell performer. He performs with both a hand bell choir, a community group of very talented people. He is also a hand bell soloist and is often contracted to perform at various venues in his solo role. Apparently, there are not very many solo hand bell performers.

Today the hand bell choir was recording a Christmas CD for their upcoming Christmas concert performances. So, I invited myself along. I'm sure I've recorded some hand bells some time during my diverse recording career, however, this sounded intriguing to me. And, as I suspected, it was.

I had planned to insert a segment of video right here of the choir during one of their recording takes, but I ran into some snags editing the piece on the road. So, maybe sometime in the future I'll put a piece up.

I sat and was mesmerized by the variety of instruments (bells, chimes, a variety of mallets and other devices. Additionally, I had never seen or heard many of the techniques they used in playing the various instruments. There were totally unique sounds and textures and nuances that just blew my mind. Boy, was I glad I invited myself along. I learned and experienced something new. I know my recording techniques for this kind of performance would have been very different than that used by the person recording the selections. But, he's him and I'm me, so I don't butt in. However, the experience left me with a new challenge for the future. I will hopefully find a hand bell choir equal to or better than this group (if there is better) to record.

Thanks for the opportunity and learning experience, Brian. See? The old can still learn from the young . . . and should.

Tomorrow is lunch with two of the people who were instrumental in putting the Montclair State College (University) WMSC on the air with me 46 years ago and then I meet up with a couple more college friends from our college major. Tuesday may actually be a "day of rest" more or less. Thursday I'll be at Montclair State University again meeting with more members of the faculty, staff, administration and radio station student body and then speaking to the radio station students at their station meeting. My intention and hope is to pop some bubbles, drop some realities on them and inspire them to take the awesome opportunity, power and responsibility in their hands with access to a direct voice to the ears of thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of people and really make a difference. I expect that one or two of them will pick up on the message and do something with it. The rest . . . well, they are just kids like I was at that age and don't really have a clue what the real world is like and will likely learn it like most of us . . . the hard way and probably reinventing the wheel.

That's my lot for the day - your humble nomadic, living free philosopher. 

Photo-of-the-Week #130 - David and Goliath, Mahwah, New Jersey, October 2013

Actually, there isn't much to say about this photo other than it's VERY current. I snapped it this morning at the Pilot Travel Center in Mahwah, New Jersey. Yes! David is portrayed by "My McVansion" and Goliath is portrayed by a Volvo tractor and Mayflower Van Lines trailer from St. Petersburg, Florida.

I had actually selected another location to park in the truck lot where I thought I'd be out of the way, but while I was sitting around there came a "tap, tap, tap" on the window and it was one of the attendants saying I couldn't park in the location I selected. I first suggested that I move it back over to the car lot, but I'd have had to go back out on Rt. 17, go down a couple miles to an exit, come back up Rt. 17, get off at the exit right after the Pilot Travel Center, cross over Rt. 17 and come back down Rt. 17 to reenter the car parking lot. No, there was no cross over. They obviously, this Pilot still believes in a form of segregation.

Then the attendant pointed at the location you see in the photo. He said normally he'd put a bobtail truck in that spot. However, when I got over there it would have been a MIGHTY tough fit for a full-size tractor. But, My McVansion slipped in to the space nicely. I didn't hear another word from anyone all night. I think the Volvo tractor may have had the engine running, but little ole David didn't hear a thing way back there. I showed the photo to an old high school buddy I had dinner with (hadn't seen each other in about 23 years or so. Art says you could probably park the entire van inside the Mayflower trailer. And, he was right.

Anyway, I thought for those of you who had never thought about the size rig My McVansion is, you should have a pretty good perspective. I don't think My McVansion is as long (and definitely not as wide or high) as the Volvo tractor by itself. For those readers who are RVers or Vandwellers, like me, this is old hat to you, but I thought you'd still enjoy a chuckle from it.

Oh, I'm on another trip north that took me to the Hampton region of Long Island for the daughter of a dear friend and grad school buddy. I stayed in a budget motel (since I was paying the tab out of pocket) that came equipped with a more than adequate heater, a king size bed, a refrigerator, a microwave and a decent bathroom with good hot water. It also saved me over $100 for the two nights compared to what everyone else was paying.

I'm composing this post from the parking lot of the Garfield, New Jersey Walmart Motor Inn (bring your own accommodations) where I've stayed before. It's quiet and while I'm taking care of a few chores before racking out for the night, I have a couple windows open, the engine running and the heat on. I'm as warm and toasty as can be. After I post this to pop up tomorrow morning, I'll be turning off the engine, waiting a little while to make sure there's no carbon monoxide build up in here and then climbing into my cocoon that kept me warm as could be last night at the Pilot Travel Center. I'll be up here at least three more nights and possibly a forth, though I may leave after I finish speaking at Montclair State University again on Wednesday and head south - probably stay at the Philipsburg, New Jersey Walmart Motor Inn I've stayed at before. 

The Ed Helvey WMSC FM Radio Interview - Tuesday, September 24, 2013

Ed receiving his sign designating him as the first member (No. 1) of WMSC at lunch at Montclair State University on September 24, 2013. The sign was presented by Dick Hinchliffe, General Manager/Radio, WMSC-FM 90.3, and will be mounted on board "My McVansion," Ed's traveling turtle shell on wheels. Photo by: Debbie Galant, NJ News Commons, School of Communication and Media, Montclair State University

Listen to the Interview: 

First, let me thank all the folks who tuned in at 11 AM this past Tuesday morning to listen to yours truly being interviewed on the small college radio station, WMSC, I started over 46 years ago. I appreciate your support and your emails have been most gratifying. It also gave the General Manager at WMSC, Dick Hinchliffe an idea about the power of social media in promoting their radio station.

Now, being interviewed on radio or TV is not new to me. Being in the recording industry as well as having produced a number of hours of radio program and other interview based materials that I have long ago lost count of (along with the millions of feet of magnet recording tape that have passed through my hands during the editing and production process), this is pretty much second nature to me. And, I've been fortunate in my career to have spent time on both sides of the table as both the interviewer and the guest. But, this was very special. This was my genesis. This is pretty much where everything began for me. High school was just a necessity to get through. When I got to college, I began to bloom and Montclair State College was that catalyst for me. While my major was Industrial Arts, my unofficial major was extracurricular activities and The Voice of Montclair State, then WVMS and now, WMSC, was one of my earliest dreams and achievements.

But, it wasn't that I am single-handedly responsible for WMSC's existence. I had a team of people who I "preached" to about why the college needed a radio voice, what it would take for that to happen and how we would go about turning the dream into a reality. I thank everyone of those folks from the bottom of my heart because if it weren't for you, your belief in me and your belief in "The Dream," I wouldn't have been able to return to what has become Montclair State University, an institution that's five times larger than when I left, 46 years ago and a radio station that has not only endured throughout those 46 years, but has grown and is now a part of the teaching curriculum of that institution. I don't have a clue how many people have passed through the doors of WVMS/WMSC and it's several configurations and the trials, tribulations and challenges it's overcome, but I'm sure the number exceeds 1,000 people, all of whom have contributed something to my original dream and many of whom have gone onto careers in broadcast media because of their exposure to and time at The Voice of Montclair State and WMSC.

It was an honor. It was humbling. It was a pleasure. It was cathartic. It was a privilege. And, it was the fulfillment of the circle to, once again, be back in the studios - as different and state-of-the-art as they now are, of "My Baby." So, thank you to everyone over the years who has contributed. Thank you to the staff and faculty and current student staff of The Voice of Montclair State, WMSC for making me feel so welcome and at ease, like coming home, the prodigal son, returned.

Now, for those who wanted to listen, but couldn't due to schedule or technical challenges getting the live Internet stream from WMSC. For those who may have captured some of the interview, but were unable to hear it all. For those who learned about it too late due to my rather short notice. And, for those who just want to indulge me and hear it again. I've made the recorded version available here. And, my thanks go out to Mickey Bo, my good buddy, who produces the Mickey Bo Rock n Roll Revue (there's a link on the left side of this blog page if you love vintage rock & roll from the 50's and 60's), for recording the interview and sending it to me before I even returned to My McVansion after the interview. I've edited it somewhat to mainly include the meat and potatoes of the actual interview. So, enjoy it, if you're interested. And, as always comment here on the blog or drop me an email and let me know what your thoughts are.