There are momentary happenings which can bring to the front memories that had been put away in the dusty back bins of the mind for a long time. This was one such: a momentary glimpse of a face and a nagging feeling that this face, or one like it, had been seen before. I am not great with names, but I am with faces. So when I come across a face which I am sure has been seen before, my mind does not stop until it is able to identify when and where. This is what happened yesterday and this is the resulting mind search. It was one of those early spring days in the city of New York; Mid-lower Manhattan to be exact. Rainy and cool, with some gusty winds coming in from the East River, making some of the lower Manhattan cross-streets into veritable canyons of cold air. It was around 3 in the afternoon and I was, frankly, wet and tired of peddling drugs… no, not THOSE drugs, but actual medical supplies, since at the time I represented Pfizer Laboratories in parts of Manhattan and the Bronx. ...

Well, it seems that I will have to be content with a couple of weekly entries; time is really pressing on. That is OK. I think these writings are getting more and more into my personal feelings and, I guess, that is OK also. I still don't know how many people are reading these entries, except for a few dear friends. So, it for you and for me these are written. Be well and I will be back soon. Today is March the 19 th . No Big Deal! You will say… To you, perhaps not. To me is a flow of memories of a childhood tradition at my grandparents’ home, where I was raised. Today’s day is dedicated to San José (Saint Joseph, for my American friends) the saint in whose honor my grandfather José was named. Every March 19 th , we set out for a mini pilgrimage to the Chapel of San José. A small, dedicated chapel, located not too far from where we lived. It was a special trip, since there would be just my grandfather and I in the car. We would have time to talk and for me to ask all those silly q...

Too many issues in mind too much of a mixed bag. Hope you are all well and I will be back with a continuance of my early work years. Do you realize that at one time I actually taught women how to color their hair? “Where it began… I can’t begin to know it…” So goes Neil Diamond in one of his better songs, “Sweet Caroline”. ‘Samatteroffact (well, isn’t this the way this phrase sounds when spit out?) I’m listening to it right now, as one of the 2800 songs I have in my I Tunes repertoire, which happens to be very eclectic. From jazz to pop/rock, going through the big bands and the not so big’uns. From Harry Chapin (an all time favorite) to Los Cinco Latinos, The Doors, The Who, The Drifters and The Platters; some “Norwegian Woods” by The Beatles followed by Mick Jagger’s “You Can’t Always Get What You Want”… and, of course, plenty of boleros and some salsa; not bad. I like to put the music on while I’m within listening range or when I’m writing, even if this strains this poor computer. Be...

I don't really want to gloss quickly over the army years. There are too many memories for too many of my generation; memories of lost friends, lost limbs, and of deep and lasting emotional scars. Perhaps the worst for those who were in the thick of the fighting, already hindered by a government that sent us there but lacked the resolve and the political balls to fully back those whom they sent, was to come back home to an openly hostile environment. The emotional scars these at home confrontations created and imprinted on the returning GIs created a hurt that in many cases went much further than anything that was actually encountered in the war. It is often said that time is the great healer. However, there are some rifts which may take more years than we may have available, before we are able to make some sense from the overall picture. The year of 1967 may be one such time rift. I went from basic training in Ft. Jackson (just went by the old road signs a few days ago when I drove...

This is a special entry. My good friend Hector and I came together again after too many years of not knowing our whereabouts. Ironies of life, we were in the same town and it took my leaving and coming back to visit, to actually have a chance to get together. It was great to see and share again with him and now, with his wife Diana as well. Hopefully we will have many more such visits. When two people live in the same town, it should be a matter of little effort to get together at some point and, in fact, get together several times over the course of the years. Right? Well, not so fast guy. My dear friend and brother Hector and I shared the same town of Miami for nearly a decade and, in all those years we only managed to meet for a few minutes; once. Yup! Once… That can’t be so, you would rightly say. Yet, I could probably write here a number of reasonable excuses as to the why of this situation and I bet you these could even be made to sound plausible. In truth, there were times dur...