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My – and Dorothy’s – Home Town

You never get used to New York

My first NYC apartment was just two blocks from the Algonquin Hotel.

Used to walk past it alla time and think about one of my fave authors at that time, Dorothy Parker.

Haven’t read or thought about her in years but today, I remembered her essay about our shared hometown that she wrote almost 100 years ago but still resonates now.

Figured that, if you haven’t read it, I’ll put it below for you.

My Home Town
by Dorothy Parker

It occurs to me that there are other towns.

It occurs to me so violently that I say, at intervals, “Very well, if New York is going to be like this, I’m going to live somewhere else.”

And I do – that’s the funny part of it.

‘But then one day there comes to me the sharp picture of New York at its best, on a shiny blue-and-white Autumn day with its buildings cut diagonally in halves of light and shadow, with its straight neat avenues colored with quick throngs, like confetti in a breeze.

Someone, and I wish it had been I, has said that “Autumn is the Springtime of big cities.”

I see New York at holiday time, always in the late afternoon, under a Maxfield Parrish sky, with the crowds even more quick and nervous but even more good-natured, the dark groups splashed with the white of Christmas packages, the lighted holly-strung shops urging them in to buy more and more.

I see it on a Spring morning, with the clothes of the women as soft and as hopeful as the pretty new leaves on a few, brave trees.

I see it at night, with the low skies red with the black-flung lights of Broadway, those lights of which Chesterton – or they told me it was Chesterton – said, “What a marvelous sight for those who cannot read!”

I see it in the rain, I smell the enchanting odor of wet asphalt, with the empty streets black and shining as ripe olives. I see it – by this time, I become maudlin with nostalgia – even with its gray mounds of crusted snow, its little Appalachians of ice along the pavements.

So, I go back.

And it is always better than I thought it would be.

I suppose that is the thing about New York.

It is always a little more than you had hoped for.

Each day, there, is so definitely a new day.

“Now we’ll start over,” it seems to say every morning, “and come on, let’s hurry like anything.”

London is satisfied…,

Paris is resigned…,

…but New York is always hopeful.

Always it believes that something good is about to come off, and it must hurry to meet it.

There is excitement ever running its streets.

Each day, as you go out, you feel the little nervous quiver that is yours when you sit in the theater just before the curtain rises.

Other places may give you a sweet and soothing sense of level; but in New York there is always the feeling of “Something’s going to happen.”

It isn’t peace.

But, you know, you do get used to peace, and so quickly.

And you never get used to New York.

By Derek Jensen – Tysto, Public Domain

Location: my hometown, thinking of all those years ago
Mood: somber
Music: New York sky don’t get much brighter – she sets, she sets the city on fire (Spotify)
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Moving water doesn’t freeze

Gather Ye Acorns

Ok, the year is 1986 and I’m a very fat, nerdy, “just-turned-a” teenager.

An anthology series by Steven Speilberg called Amazing Stories, which was a bit like a (then) modern take on the Twilight Zone, is must-watch-tv.

Because this was in the time before cable and YouTube and you either watched what everyone else watched or you had to sit on the sidelines as the other kids talked about it.

Man, I loved that show as a kid.

One of the stories that really sticks out to me was Gather Ye Acorns, which starred Luke Skywalker himself, Mark Hammill.

In it, Hamill’s a young man that meets a weird old dude – who’s actually a troll – that tells him to keep everything he’s ever loved, even if the world mocks or belittles him.

So, Hamill’s character does so and holds onto comic books, toys, and pop culture trinkets – for decades.

Just like me.

These are actually my buddies; I was more of an X-Men/Batman kinda kid.

Unfortunately, like the rest of the world, the young man turns into an old man, and a poor old man at that.

What’s worse is that, the whole time, people either think he’s silly – which is the best-case scenario – or a complete idiot.

His parents eventually disown him and toss him out.

He ends up alone and, eventually, homeless.

Now an old man, Hamill’s character is frustrated and angry, cursing the fact that he met the old troll and ruined his life.

A bitter old man, he ends up just waiting to die.

Yet he somehow finds himself at a collector’s auction where he’s mobbed because everyone wants his “junk” – alla which is now super valuable.

The story ends with Hamill’s character wealthy, vindicated, and – perhaps best of – finally seen by those around him.

I did exactly that – yes, sometimes with actual stuff, like comic books, old electronics and the like – but also with things in my head.

I remember telling my college buddy, Crawford that, “One day, I’ll be a swordsman.”

He laughed and said, “Well, one day, I’m gonna live on a sunny island like Jimmy Buffet and play the guitar on the beach.”

Guess what? We both did exactly what we said we’d do.

Because neither of us gave up on our “childish” dreams.

What a difference that makes, not giving up on the things you love.

That’s the thing that makes me different from other people, I think: Like Hamill’s character, I rarely gave up the things I loved, like peanut butter, Spam, kali, comics, short stories, etc.

That can be a disserve at times, but – by-and-large – it’s served me well.

When everyone else quit kali, I kept it up. For almost 20 years, I would go. Usually twice a week and then once a week when the classes got more sparse.

But I’d always practice by my lonesome at night.

This was 15 years ago. That was our old space.

Likewise, many of my very well-meaning friends – like the one way above and even my own father-in-law, caution me about continuing to wrassle with 20-somethings.

But I know that if I stop, that’s moment I’ll truly become become an old man.

See, I know that I’m mathematically 52 years old, but as long as I can keep doing the things I love, I don’t believe it.

There’s an old saying I like that goes, Moving water doesn’t freeze.

So, I gotta keep moving.

Her: Why don’t you run with me?
Me: Sorry, I need to train.
Her: So, lemme get this straight – you’d rather roll around with a buncha sweaty men, than jog with your amazing fiancé.
Me: …yes?
Her: (slowly nods) Ok then…

On that note, we just did a crazy cool thing on Scenic Fights.

I’ll tell you all about it when it finally happens.

Location: home, cutting a box to make it a shipping cost go from $76 to $24
Mood: committed
Music: I survived. I’m still breathing. I’m alive (Spotify)
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The greatest mistake’s to do nothing cause you can’t do much

Resistance

Almost exactly 82 years ago to this day, the US 379th Bomb Group were above the central German town of Kassel – deep in Germany – trying to blow up the Nazi aircraft engine shops located there.

Tondelayo, a B-17 Flying Fortress bomber, was flying particularly slow – 150 miles per hour versus its max speed of 287 mph – in order to try and hit its targets, all while being shot up by Nazi heavy guns.

A buncha Nazi exposive shells hit the airplane but didn’t explode.

After the crew made it back, officials inspected the shells that hit the Tondelayo and noted that most were empty.

Inside one of these shells, however, was a note written in Czech:

This is all we can do for you now.

That’s how the Allies discovered that forced laborers in a German munitions factory had sabotaged the ammunition by removing the explosive filler, rendering the shell a dud and saving the lives of everyone on board the Tondelayo.

On this 4th of July, I wanted to relay to you a quote I tell the kid alla time – and truly believe in my soul – from a fella named Syd that goes:

It is the greatest of all mistakes to do nothing because you can only do little.

To hold ourselves to our highest ideals of what it meana to be an American, I think, is to do what you can when you can to further the idea of truth and justice.

And it doesn’t take much.

But it does take something.

It’s 4th of July so I thought this was a fitting little story and quote.

Back to nuthin next week.

PS – I may take Monday off. Not sure ATM. I suppose we’ll find out then.

Location: still the UWS, for now
Mood: resolute
Music: Look, Mummy. There’s an airplane up in the sky (Spotify)
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Goodnight, Peter

He was my friend and I’ll miss him

Her: What are you writing about?
Me: Peter.
Her: Oh, did you know him well enough to write about him?
Me: Well, his life is his story to tell. I’m just gonna write about my life and his role in it.

Pausing the usual nuthin again.

Almost exactly 17 years ago, I wrote about my buddy Mike, who was a regular in my kali class.

Older fella, I still remember that Mike had a six-pack at 65+.

Mike was the first guy that I knew as a friend that died.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t the last.

Mike died before social media so I’ve forgotten what he looks like.

But he was my friend, and I miss him.

Peter Moretti was like Mike in that he would always come to class and be a bit confused and not get certain moves because, like Mike, he was older.

But he never stopped coming and never stopped trying to be better.

This is him just a few days before he died.

His dedication, plus his incredibly easy-going and kind nature, was how I always saw him.

His Facebook feed was/is fulla things like him feeding birds like woodpeckers and ducks.

After knowing Peter a few years, I found that he was a karate instructor and fighter who could do things that I only dreamed about being able to do.

In fact, he just posted a buncha photos of himself as a young man two days before he died.

 I realize now that Mike and Peter are essentially me.

They were both skilled and dangerous fighters that were once in peak physical shape.

But time takes its toll on alla us.

I figure that, in a few years, I’ll be the guy that people have to help with certain moves or things.

And they too will be surprised that I was once anything but an older fella.

In any case, I just saw Peter maybe two weeks ago. I worked with him some.

We weren’t close, at all, but we got along well.

He died in his sleep and left a buncha people that loved him and will miss him.

That’s a good way to go, if you’ve gotta go, I say.

Goodnight, Peter.

You’ve worked hard enough, and you’ve earned your rest.

Her: You don’t want to make his death about you.
Me: I get that, but I also don’t ever feel right telling someone else’s story.
Her: That’s true.
Me: It’s a delicate balance. I suppose the main point is that the people in our lives are part of the fabric of it and Peter was a part of mine. I’ll never see him again and he was someone that I always liked seeing.

Location: last night, the surgeon’s, drinking up a ton of rum
Mood: wistful
Music: You’ll have to learn, just like me and that’s the hardest way (Spotify)
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The duty of a champion

No such thing as a parttime champion

There’s a quote by a modern stoic named Ryan Holiday that I particularly like: The obligation of a champion is to act like a champion at all times.

Don’t think I’ve ever lost my cool and was happy about the results. If I can give the kid anything, hopefully, it’s a better sense of being calm and calculated.

To this end, I personally have been re-reading (ok, skimming) Meditations by Marcus Aurelius and also other stoic books here and there in the hopes that all this anger at the injustice of Alison and my dad’s suffering and deaths somehow becomes more manageable.

It’s a daily struggle, I have to admit.

One really sweet thing that we’ve been doing here at Casa Lo is to have regular board game nights with the kids.

It’s a small and silly thing but one that I appreciate greatly because children – at this age and younger – learn so much in competition and games.

Forgot to take pics, so I took the pic from this old entry in 2011 with Alison at Paul’s old pad.

We’ve been playing a few card games as well as board games, particularly what we call The Bean Game – addictively fun – and Settlers of Catan.

Both boys are pretty competitive but, because my son is younger, he’s still dealing with the emotions that come with winning and losing.

One night, recently, the kid had a particularly bad night and lost his cool, so I brought him to his room to have a chat with him.

I think I want what every good parent wants: For one’s children to be better than they are.

Hope I have enough time here to accomplish that.

After all, if we’re being honest here, it’s really the main reason I’m here.

Me: What’s the obligation of a champion, boy?
Him: To act like a champion.
Me:…at all times. Don’t forget that last part: At all times.
Him: But you lose your temper too, papa!
Me: I’m aware. I’m working on that. And that’s kinda my point: You can be better than me. And I want you to be better than me. Listen, if you act like a musician, with enough practice, you’ll be one. If you act like a BJJ player, you’ll be one. And if you act like a champion, you’ll be one. But you have to do it at all times. There’s no such thing as a parttime champion.

Location: rainy NYC
Mood: ache-y
Music: we mean to go on and on and on and on (Spotify)
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A birthday at Upland

These different capacities

My buddy around the way had a major milestone birthday the other day, right after we’d gone swimming over at Steel’s.

So, the Firecracker and I rushed home – already stuffed – to change to meet up with them.

The party was in a restaurant across the street from Alison’s office, so I had a few moments in my head, but we’ll just end that part of the story there.

When we arrived, the Maitre’d brought up to the lower level, which my friends had taken over for the party.

The Firecracker and I got to sit with the birthday boy, which I was super flattered by.

Me: I met Dave like 27 years ago.
Him: No, it was 24 and a half years ago – I know this because we met the day I started at this company and I’m coming up on 25 years soon.
Me: (laughing) I stand corrected.

Tried my best to not eat that much at Steel’s because I knew the food here wouldn’t disappoint…

…and it assuredly didn’t.

I was asked to say a few words, so I did.

This woman once said, Good things happen slowly, bad things happen fast. You don’t really know who’s gonna be important in your life and how life is gonna unfold until years go by. And somehow 25 years have passed. There are at least four people in this room that didn’t exist when we first met….I knew him [first] as a co-worker, and then my drinking buddy in the neighborhood – (to kids) we drank a lotta water – now I see him as a father, as a husband, and all these other things and it’s wonderful to see. It’s wonderful to see your friends in these different capacities that you didn’t know they were capable of.

Everything I said was true.

(c) Ken Landau

RE Mike was there, along with his wife, and so many other people that I met throughout the years.

I gotta say, the very best thing about getting older is the friends that keep you company along the way.

There was a killer premium open bar but, ever since the Surgeon’s party, I’ve been wary about overindulging…

…although I did cheat a bit on my no/low-carb rule and had a touch of cake.

There’s a lot more that happened but those are all other people’s stories so I’ll just say that we had an amazing time.

The Firecracker and I took a long walk from the East Side to the West Side, stopping at Madison Square Park to look at the tree…

…and take some pictures.

Her: Thanks for always including me to these kinda things.
Me: (puzzled) Of course. We’re a team.
Her: (smiling) I like that.
Me: Plus, I like to show you off. You’re super hot.
Her: (laughing)

Location: home, sans kids, cooking for the Firecracker
Mood: chilly
Music: We got talking about the past, I even made you laugh (Spotify)
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Doing the right thing

Two different kids

Went to see my mom and sister for my nephew’s birthday the other day.

We went to Flushing first to get some dumplings from White Bear,…

…some Taiwanese from the local mall, and to get a little shopping done before heading to their place in Queens.

We didn’t eat all that much because my sister was going to get ribs and pizza for everyone for the bday.

It was a small affair, just some of my nephew’s school friends and us.

But, in the middle of it, a neighbor’s kid that stopped by for a brief bit and he was…just awful.

Obnoxious, loud, rude, etc. But I found out afterward that his family life was pretty rough and then I was torn.

Like, people are the way that they are because of their upbringing.

Then, on the ride home, we were in a packed subway car, and it was the NYC Dominican Day Parade.

Well, it was like half the parade was trying to be in our subway car.

In the middle of it, a teen girl turned on music, began dancing inappropriately, and then started vaping in front of my kid.

Me: (tapping her on the shoulder) Hey, can you not do that? My kid is right here.
Her: OK, sorry.

And she stopped. Also heard her say to her friends – that had packed the car and were also vaping, “Hey, there are kids here!”

When we left, I tapped the girl’s shoulder again.

Me: Hey, thanks for doing that.
Her: No worries, mister. Sorry about that.
Her friend: Yeah, sorry mister.
Me: You did the right thing here, so…thanks.

Martin Luther King Jr’s in the news again lately, for the most ridiculous reason.

But he had a quote on the topic that I’ve always liked that seems appropriate to this situation: The time is always right to do the right thing.

As we walked home, the kid talked to me about it all.

Him: They were really loud and scary. Why did you thank her?
Me: Because she did the right thing in the end. Yes, she should have been quieter and yes, she shouldn’t have vaped in the first place. But when someone recognizes they did something wrong and try to fix what they did, you have to give them credit for that.
Him: She was still really loud and scary.
Me: (nodding) Yes. But she was trying to do the right thing in the end. And we always hope that, even if it takes a long time, ultimately, people do the right thing. Maybe next time, she’ll be even better.

Location: a playground, watching a mouse explode
Mood: nauseated
Music: This is a moment in the prime of your life – you better own it (Spotify)
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No such thing as inclement weather

Only poor clothing choices

Her: The artichokes were good. But they’re just too much work.
Me: They’re the crayfish of the vegetable world.

It’s been quiet around here for a change. Most exciting thing was that I made the Firecracker artichokes for the first time.

Did get stuck in the rain the other day though.

It wasn’t that bad.

After all, there’s no such thing as inclement weather, only poor clothing choices.

Location: bed, waiting for the sandman
Mood: sleepy
Music: no music, just the rain
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New Mexico came before Mexico

Plus, Germany and Switzerland don’t like debt

Me: I have all this useless information in my head for some reason. Like, which do you think came first, Mexico or New Mexico?
Her: I would think Mexico.
Me: And you would be wrong.

If social media has taught me one thing, it’s that (a) people are easily fooled because (b) we put a outsized value on common sense – but “common sense,” differs radically from one group to another.

For example, the German word for “debt” is the same as their word for “fault” and “shame” (in the sense of, “what a shame”) which tells you a lot about how they look at borrowing.

And that’s probably why Germany and Switzerland, both German-speaking nations, have the lowest home ownership rates in alla Europe.

Here in the US, it’s just common sense to strive for home ownership.

There, in Germany, it’s just common sense to never have debt.

As I see the kid grow up, it’s alarming how much certain bits of information is just taken for granted and is so often wrong:

These are all things that have the air of truth but only a tiny bit of actual truth to them.

Like all kids, he asks a million questions.

But, for some reason, when kids grow up, they stop asking questions and just assume that what they’re told is correct.

After a while, people just assume things – they don’t even need anyone to tell them stuff.

That’s why I’m hoping that the boy’ll always be curious and intellectually inquisitive.

Her: How is that possible?
Me: New Mexico was first called that in 1598 (Nuevo México) but what we now know as Mexico was never known as that until 1821; prior to that, it was known as New Spain.

Location: the Dakota bar, with a buncha school principals
Mood: floaty
Music: Man, it’s a hot one – like seven inches from the midday sun (Spotify)
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Tearing away all but the things that cannot be torn

Forgetting I’m not 17

Her: Can you imagine what George Washington would say right now?
Me: “What an asshole?”
Her: Exactly.

A good buddy of mine hurt his leg the other day doing a harai goshi and sent me a video of it.

Fast-forward to earlier this week and the kid tried the same throw and almost broke his leg.

Him: Why are you mad at me?!
Me: I’m not mad at you, kid. I’m worried you’re gonna break your leg!

By Gotcha2 – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3096148

Both the body and mind grow through adversity.

This fella named Arthur Golden once said, Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.

Wanna give the boy enough stress to make him better, but not so much so as to make him worse.

On that note, I just went to my local urgent care office – again – because I thought I fractured my wrist in jits the other day.

Doctor: What happened?
Me: Essentially, I forgot that I’m 51 and not 17.
Him: (nodding) Ah…we get that a lot here.
Me: Yup.

Turns out that I didn’t have any broken bones, just a particularly bad strain.

The weirdest part was that no “event” happened – I just walked off the mat at the end and could barely move my wrist.

Not much to do but rest it up and hope it heals quickly.

I still have a small handful of kali students that I train over Zoom.

One of them is a doctor from Pittsburg that was in town the other day visiting his sister, who just happens to also live on the UWS.

So, we met up for a really brief bit to have a cuppa joe.

Me: It’s crazy when I think about it. My great grandmother was so poor that she sold her only child – my grandmother – to another family because she couldn’t afford to support her. She died not soon afterward. And here I am, an ivy league educated lawyer living in Manhattan. Nuts.
Him: Surprising how much similar history [we have] being second generation children of immigrants.
Me: Yeah. I wish my dad was still alive so I could tell him that I’m so sorry for being such an asshole when I was a teenager.

Location: yesterday, the waiting room of my local urgent care office
Mood: discomforted
Music: Sticks and stones won’t break our bones (Spotify)
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