Fifteen Years

I had a physical in August, 2000. I had just turned 50 so it was time. I guess it was time when I turned 40 but you know.

Anyway, fifteen years ago today I got a call from my doctor with the results of the physical. Getting a call from my doctor was initially confusing. He was usually so busy that he barely had time for you when you had an appointment. The fact that he was calling me and not one of his staff got my attention. But when he told me I had Chronic Lypmphocytic Leukemia or CLL I am not sure if I was still paying attention.

So many things were going through my mind. I know I heard the word leukemia and I knew enough about that to know it was not a good thing to have. People die from leukemia. After the initial shock I did hear my doctor say that if you were to have cancer then this is the one you would want. I didn’t want cancer. He then went on to say that most CLL patients die from something else all together and that many never get treated at all.

He gave me the name of an oncologist and I hung up. I immediately went to the web, we didn’t have Google in 2000 but I did a search and read up on CLL. I wanted to know something about this before I called Eileen.

What I learned about CLL was basically what the doctor had told me. I can’t say I felt good but I did feel better. I was now able to call Eileen and give her the news.

I don’t remember much of the call to Eileen except trying to be as optimistic as the doctor had been.

” I probably will die from something else and won’t even need to be treated” are some of the things I said. I am sure she didn’t buy it. As bad as email is to communicate things like this to loved ones, the telephone wasn’t much better. I gave her the name of the oncologist that the doctor had given me and she knew him. As a nurse in the same hospital where he attended it turned out to be a blessing. She got me in to see him the very next day.

So began my fifteen year relationship with Dr. Louis Avvento and his team at Eastern Long Island Hematology and Oncology.

On that first visit in August of 2000 I was assured of a 10 year survival rate. ( I didn’t write anything five years ago because he was treating Eileen and, thank God, just as successfully as he treated me.) Well, I am still here and still going to ELIHO. Over the years Dr. Avvento has become much more than a clinician to me and my family. We talk as much about the Yankees and especially the New York Rangers as we do about CLL. He has treated me not just the disease. His staff have been wonderful. Can you imagine feeling good about going to your oncologist? I have more angst getting a hair cut. That is because you feel so cared for and appreciated when you enter the office.

Everyone smiles and is so reassuring and uplifting. You are immediately put at ease,

One of the things that naturally happens when you are in a treatment setting for several hours is that you meet other patients. Some don’t always respond to the treatment the way you do. There have been people that I got to know that have passed. It’s a reality check that you don’t like to dwell on but is there right in front of  you, nonetheless.

I was treated with chemotherapy in 2000 and again in 2007. I have been in remission since 2008. My numbers have been going up, specifically my white blood count but not nearly where it was when treatment was required. So far everything else is right where I want to be. But you don’t take anything for granted.

The other thing I try not to take for granted is people. Family and friends have been with me through all of this journey. The same group was there for Eileen and me when Eileen was going through her journey.

Sometimes I do wonder “Why Us?”  But then I look around and realize that I have nothing to complain about. On the contrary, I have so much to be grateful for.

We have been blessed with so many people that have cared for us. Our circle of friends has expanded just at the time of life when it usually recedes. To complain about what life has presented would just seem silly.

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Inflated Egos Deflated Balls

Jet fans hat the Patriots much in the same way Yankee fans hate the Red Sox and Met fans hate the Yankees.

For me it’s not so much of a vicious, venomous type of hatred for the players or the fans as much as it is for their coach. I won’t even use his name. I despise him so much.

One of the things that resonates with me either in a good book or television show is loyalty. I loved when in West Wing Leo tells Josh that as long as he had a job Josh would have a job. I loved in The Return of The King when Strider, after pumping up the troops to storm Mordor, he turns to his cohort and says, “For Frodo”, at which the army burst through enemy lines.

Loyalty is Man Love in action. I love loyalty in the sports arena as well.

Every Yankee fan will remember when Armando Benitez plunked Tino and the benches cleared and even Jeff Nelso and Graeme Lloyd raced in from the bull pen and got a few belts in protecting their man. Bernie then followed with a homer, no better revenge. Now, the 1998 Yankees went on to win 125 games but I always felt that moment when the entire team had Tino’s back was their defining moment as a team. Oh, by the way, Tino repaid the favor by hitting the grand slam in Game 1 of the World Series…but I digress.

Getting back to the subject at hand, the hated Patriot, the man of Inflated Ego and Deflated Balls.

It is well known by Jet fans that this man was to assume the head coaching job after his friend and mentor, Bill Parcels, stepped down. Now the year before this guy was paid an extra mil to stay on as defensive coordinator and was going to get the head coaching job. Finally the day came and Parcels was leading this SOB to the podium to introduce him as the new coach when as they were walking a note was passed to Parcels. “I just accepted the Patriot job” or something like that was on the note and the news conference entered the land of fiasco.

That is why all Jet fans hate this man and hope more than his balls get deflated.

Loyalty? Not from him. He can win this year’s Super Bowl and ten more and he will still  be a BUM to me.

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I Didn’t Have A Hat

It had been a bitter cold week in New York so, when the temperatures broke the thirty degree mark in East Quogue,  it felt like a heat wave.

Sunday morning started off like most Sunday mornings except that instead of getting up around 6:30 AM I got up around 9:00 AM. Despite my Sunday morning sloth, I got up and dressed and out of the house earlier than most Sundays.

In addition to getting out earlier, I refrained from wearing one of my many New York Yankee hats or New York Jet hats. I didn’t wear a Yankee or Jet sweatshirt or a Yankee or Jet jacket. I cannot say I was happy about any of this.

Eileen and I were determined to get out in the sun and do something other than chores and food shopping. We were in the car at eleven and made our way to Roses and Rice, our local florist. It’s a great store and the owner has been selling my book for a couple of months. I spoke with her Saturday and suggested a special combination sale, flowers and a book. Look on Facebook later this week. Anyway, I was going to drop off ten copies of A Bronx Boy’s Tale. Unfortunately, the store was closed when we stopped by. Now it was off to the Quogue Library.

We checked out the library, sat in a lovely sitting room in front of a roaring faux fire place. It was really faux, consisting of a red light bulb for the roaring part.

We talked and then decided to head for the beach. We went over the Quogue Bridge and thought about go to the private Quogue Beach but I thought better of it. I had no desire with having to explain myself to the Quogue Police and so we opted to go a little further west on Dune Road to Rogers’ Beach in Westhampton Beach. This proved to be an important decision.

We pulled into the parking lot and it was just a marvelous day. It was so sunny my sunglasses were mostly ineffective. There was no wind which made the 31 degrees seem mild. We started up the stairs and walked on the short boardwalk to a patio. From there we could see the expanse of the beach and the nearly waveless ocean beyond. I was struggling to take a picture and could not make anything out by looking at my phone. Then, almost out of nowhere, a figure on the beach made his way up toward us.

At first I was concerned as he looks like he was wearing robes of some sort. He also had a beard and stocking hat. But as he got closer I could see that he had a rope belt and was wearing sandals. Clearly, he was a clergyman.

He immediately greeted Eileen and I and was kind enough to offer to take our picture. After he took our pictures we started talking and we introduced ourselves. He told us he was a Franciscan Brother from the BRONX! Eileen and I started laughing and we regaled our story to our new friend Brother Simon.

Remembering the books that we could not drop off at Roses and Rice Eileen turned to me and said, “You must give him a copy of your book.”

Well, we got talking about the Bronx and about the book and he was so very nice to us. We did give him a copy and he asked that I sign it and inscribe a blessing to him, which I did. We told him about the book that Eileen and I are working on and he was so touched that he wanted to pray with us, right there at the beach.

We prayed and then I told him about one of the common themes of Eileen’s portion of the book…there are no coincidences.

Eileen and I did not think that meeting Brother Simon was a coincidence. We needed to meet Brother Simon. He reminded us about what it is to be happy. You see, the moment we met Brother Simon we were both struck by his joy. It was visible. It was palpable. When we told him about our story he took us under his wing and hugged us both. It wasn’t a hug of pity or sorrow but…well, there are no coincidences.

As he left us we went back to the patio and then I heard him calling my name as he was running towards us from the parking lot with something in his hand…

“Here Jimmy take this, you don’t have a hat.”

There are no coincidences.

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A Bronx Boy’s Tale…The Playlist

Well, A Bronx Boy’s Tale is available on Amazon and you can also read it on you Kindle. In order to set the mood, I have put together a suggested play list. Enjoy.

A BRONX BOY’S TALE

THE PLAY LIST

I thought it might be fun for readers of A Bronx Boy’s Tale to have a play list prepared for their listening pleasure. Each selection has specific meaning to me and captures the spirit of the time to which it is associated. As you read A Bronx Boy’s tale, you will, no doubt, want to add or substitute your own songs which may hold special significance to you. Please do and share with all of us.

Chapter 1: Romantic  Musketeers.

My Back Pages by The Byrds

I Wonder What She’s Doing Tonight  by Randy and The Tamerlanes

Then He Kissed Me by The Crystals

Candy Girl by The Four Seasons

A Teenager In Love by Dion and The Belmonts

Chapter 2: Then There’s Christmas

Louie Louie by The Kingsmen

Darling Can’t You Tell by The Clusters

My Guy by Mary Wells

Chapter 3: For All You Boys And Girls

I Want To Hold Your Hand by The Beatles (all the songs will be by The Beatles)

She Loves You

All My Loving

Twist and Shout

Chapter 4: It Was A Fair Day Indeed

PS I Love You by The Beatles

Rag Doll by The Four Seasons

Chapter 5: Dancing In The Dark

Don’t Let The Sun Catch You Crying by Jerry and The Pacemakers

Thank You Girl by The Beatles

Chapter 6: Is Commencement The End?

Needles and Pins by The Searchers

Glad All Over by The Dave Clark Five

Chapter 7: It’s Summertime

I Get Around by The Beach Boys

Under the Boardwalk by The Drifters

A Hard Day’s Night by The Beatles

If I Fell by The Beatles

And I Love Her by The Beatles

Chapter 8: Desperate Times

The End Of The World by Skeeter Davis

Chapter 9: I Hate That Robert Hall Song

It’s Alright by Adam Faith

Bits and Pieces by The Dave Clark Five

Chapter 10: Dominoes Used To Be A Game

Smoke Gets In Your Eyes by The Platters…you’ll get it when you read it.

I Feel Fine by The Beatles

Chapter 11: One Boy’s Heroes

Satisfaction by The Rolling Stones

Norwegian Wood by The Beatles

Chapter 12: I Feel A Draft

Draft Morning by The Byrds

Chapter 13: The Summer Of Love

Light My Fire by The Doors

Purple Haze by Jimmi Hendrix

With A Little Help From My Friends by The Beatles

A Day In A Life by The Beatles

White Rabbit by The Jefferson Airplane

Chapter 14: What’s Going On?

Abraham Martin And John by Dion

Chapter 15: The End Of The Sixties

Come Together by The Beatles

Chapter 16: We All Want To Change The World

Ohio by Crosby Stills Nash and Young

Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones

Chicago by Crosby Stills Nash and Young

Chapter 17: September 3, 1971

Younger Girl by The Lovin Spoonful

Reason To Believe by Rod Stewart

Chapter 18: Love Grows In The Bronx

Finnegan’s Wake by The Clancy Brothers

Here There And Everywhere by The Beatles

Chapter 19: Epilogue

New York New York by The Chairman Of The Board Mr. Frank Sinatra

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Why A Bronx Boy’s Tale Matters

I wrote A Bronx Boy’s Tale to share my experiences growing up in the Bronx. But it became much more than a memoir. The lesson I learned from writing my book and talking to my readers is that A Bronx Boy’s Tale is as much about life in twenty-first century America as it is about life in the Bronx in the 1960’s and ’70’s.

Families, Friends, and Community helped me through assassinations and social upheaval back in the day and continue to help us all survive ebola scares and ISIS threats and a dysfunctional government.

A Bronx Boy’s Tale is more about now than nostalgia.

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A Bronx Boy’s Tale…The Reviews

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A Bronx Boy’s Tale On Goodreads

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18759123-a-bronx-boy-s-tale?from_search=true

Please sign on to Goodreads and rate A Bronx Boy’s Tale.

Thank you. Jimmy

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Something’s Comin

One of my favorite songs from West Side Story is ‘Something’s Comin’. Listen to it on iTunes or just read the lyrics, it’s such a happy, optimistic tune. Ok, it’s a little poignant when we know the singer gets it from Chino and he dies in Maria’s arm, but, it’s still a happy song at the time of its singing.

All too often today we may feel something is coming but that it ain’t good. That’s a shame. Where did our optimism go? It wasn’t always like this. I can remember singing Something’s Comin….

It was Friday, the beginning of Labor Day weekend. It was Friday, September 3, 1971 and something good was coming my way.

I went to work as usual that morning. I took the six train from Parkchester, opted for the local so I could have a seat. I would change at 125th and get the four and take that to Grand Central. the subway was crowded despite the holiday approaching. The subway was hot and steamy and not without its unpleasant smells. Arriving at my destination around 8:30 I proceeded up the staircase passing by the nun who was begging for alms in her usual perch at the top of the stairs. I always thought if she were legit her time would be better spent praying or teaching or doing something other than sitting on her duff begging. I passed her by.

Coming out of the dark, dank subway and greeted by the bright heat of 42nd Street I made my way to 200 East 42nd, the P. Lorillard Co. and the mail room. Eddie was the early man that Friday and asked me if I would go across to the Lantern Coffee Shop to get the coffee and muffins. It was payday and my last day working at Lorillard so I said I would treat the boys to a little breakfast.

The Lantern had the best corn and blueberry muffins and they would grill them and just make them even better and I am sure healthier. I am not sure why but today the coffee and toasted corn muiffin tasted better than ever. Holiday weekends do tend to make things seem better.

The morning proceeded as most mornings had that summer. I made my run and delivered the mail to all the departments on the 5th and 4th floors. I talked to the secretaries who I liked and passed by the ones I didn’t…there weren’t many of those. It was a great job and a great company and I was starting to wonder if leaving was the right thing to do. But I felt something good was coming.

Returning to the mail room I just made the beginning of the entertainment hour as Eddy was in rare form busting everyone’s chops and regaling us with his lovemaking prowess as honed in the second world war while on hazardous duty in Australia. Eddy was a funny guy and we enjoyed the stories more than we beileved them. I started to doubt Eddy’s veracity when he told me his parish priest gave him the green light on adultery.

Morning gave rise to afternoon and payday was Blarney Stone Day. We were a great bunch of guys from various parts of the city. Melvin was from the South Bronx, Myron from East New York, Ray from Brownsville, and Charlie was from Scarsdale. We always went to the Blarney Stone on Fridays, even when it was not payday. At the Blarney Stone one could get a great roast beef sandwich, cold beer and Melvin could get three fingers of Johnny Walker red.

The conversation was always happy stuff. No one had a bad thing to say and it was rare that the laughter even took an intermission. This was 1971 and no one would admit it and men couldn’t really say it at this time but we all loved one another and I was made to feel that my presence would be sorely missed.

To put the finishing touch on our repast,Tiparillos for all.

We arrived back at the mail room, sorted the afternoon mail, and made our deliveries. I made my goodbyes to the secretaries. There was a kiss goodbye here and a hug there. The one girl I would really miss had already left the company but the ones still there were alright and I was very fond of them. But something’s comin.

Eddy had gone home but Wilbur, who was my real mentor and the guy who hired me, was a great guy. He was a taskmaster but he had a heart too. He asked me to make one out of the office delivery and to be on my way. I said my goodbyes to the guys…we didn’t hug in 1971.

Engrossed in Alvin Toffler’s “Future Shock”, I almost missed my stop on the six. Fortunately I realized where I was just before the subway car doors closed. As I made my way down the stairs of the Parkchester station I made sure to go over to the Parkchester Pharmacy. It was my Mother’s birthday and I had to get something for Lizzie. She was sixty-four and I was going to play McCartney’s song on the subject but I needed a gift or two to commemorate the occasion. A nice perfume-scented soap collection and a bouquet of flowers later and I was all set. I was now weighed down by my gifts and the two cartons of Kent that I bought for Uncle James who would just love the heavily discounted cigarettes that he could re-sell at the standard price. I would drop the cigarettes off later. It was birthday time in Apartment six in 1261 Leland Avenue.

My mother was wearing a new apron for the occasion, no doubt a gift from my thoughtful father. The funny thing was, she never minded getting an apron for a gift and was always appreciative. It was 1971.

Getting home early was a blessing for us all. We had a nice early dinner, strawberry shortcake for dessert, and a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday. The rest of the family, Michael and Margaret and their two boys, Maureen and Hank etal, Johnny and Mary etal, and Barbara and Jimmy etal would be all coming on Sunday. By the way, etal refers to my ever growing number of nieces and nephews.

After dinner I made my way to my room for a little nap and rock and roll. My parents were always amazed that I could sleep through the loudest of music. Today I even amazed myself as I soon fell asleep to the drum break of In-a-godda-da-vida.

Waking up after my nap around seven I got up and took a shower. I quickly got dressed and headed out with my two cartons of Kent in hand. I just made it before Uncle James was leaving his grocery store for the evening. I could have left the package with Otto, his night man, but I was glad to see Uncle James. We chatted a bit and he wished me well and annointed me with his “You’re a gentleman and a scholar and a good judge of bad whiskey” and I was off to meet my friends.

Al’s Wines and Liquors was our meeting place and the source of most of our merry making supplies. Cheap wine was our favorite way of making merry and Bali Hai was our favorite cheap wine. The store was well stocked this particular evening with an array of Bronx Boys that made you glad to be alive. In addition to our stand-in proprietors, Freddie and Eddy, PJ, Trent, Mike, Louie, and Andy were all on hand to help usher in the end of summer and the new school year.

I was going to be a senior and I was just getting going as a student. Typical. Just as I finally got what college was all about I was getting pushed out into the real world. I had to come up with something to forestall that eventuality. Something’s comin.

I walked into a real debate. Interestingly, it was not over wines but bars. Everyone had a different bar to recommend for our evening’s entertainment. I had an opinion on this matter, too, but right then I decided that it was more important to go to the bodega next store to get three Ballantines. I always liked a cold beer on a hot night and this particular bodega had the coldest beer in town.

I got back to the liqor store just in time. The decision on our destination made, our means of transportation was next. Only Freddy had a car and he didn’t want to drive. No one could blame him. We decided a cab was our best choice. Freddy and Eddie had to wait to close up the shop but they would meet us at the Castle Keep up on the corner of Tremont and Bruckner Boulevard. I was happy about going to the Castle Keep as I liked this place much more than our alternative, the Hollow Leg.

But that would change, somethin’s comin after all.

As we got out of our cab and entered the bar we all gasped as one. There was nobody there. When I say there was nobody there I mean aside from us, the bar tender and some guy keeled over in a corner table, there was nobody there. Certainly this would change. It was early and we were all sure that within no time pretty co-eds would be populating this very empty bar. We got up to the bar and got a beer. The beer stunk which did not make matters better. Finally we lost patience and got out of this hell. There was nothing else to do but go to the Hollow Leg. We weren’t going to spring for another cab and we could walk to the Hollow Leg. Freddy and Eddie would have to adjust.

We immediately had a good feeling about the Hollow Leg as we had to wait on a line to get in. The bar was packed and not just with guys. There was a sizable number of women of all body types and hair colors. We soon separated and the boys were on their own.

I made my way to the bar…don’t start counting the number of beers that were consumed as I remind you, this was 1971.

I came back from the bar only to catch the eye of a pretty girl sitting at the bar. Could this be the girl that I met last week at Manhattan College? If so, I wondered if it were even worth my while to pursue her. She was extremely pretty and I really liked her but she was extremely frustrating. On two occasions in the last four weeks this girl brought me to the edge of romance only to push me off its cliff. She liked me. She said so. Nevertheless, she refused to go out with m. Her father would not like me. Who gives a shit, I thought but did not say. I guess she did but that was infuriating to me. I wasn’t even upset about the notion that her father would find me unlikeable. I could live with that.

So, as I stood there bobbing and weaving as we used to do back in 1971, she kept smiling at me and gave me that ‘come hithter’ look. Something’s comin alright…another kick in the…

She kept up the smiling and I finally caved and started walking in her direction. Now it was dark and smokey, it was 1971. And how many beers had I consumed? Anyway, as I approached, I realized that she was not she. She was somebody else. A new girl. A nice girl. Something’s comin and here she was right in front of me in all her beauty, with long red hair and the bluest of eyes.

The rest, as they say, is history. Eileen and I started our life together that night in 1971.

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August 26, 1998

AUGUST 26, 1998

August 26, 1998 ended one of my most distressing years. It was a distressing year for everyone in my family. It was, in fact, a distressing year for anyone who knew my brother Mike. On August 26, 1997 we lost my brother and it seemed I relived that loss every day of the year that followed, his wife and sons and daughter in law, even more so. But on the anniversary of his death something happened to make me smile and shake my head and things began to get better.

In order to set the mood for what will follow I must go back to the day of his funeral mass. For some reason I felt that I had to give the eulogy. Although some of you may not believe it, I was never comfortable getting up and talking in front of a crowd. Certainly the prospect of giving my brother’s eulogy was not something I had wanted to do but I felt compelled to say goodbye and to represent everyone who loved him.

One of the things that struck during the days and nights of his wake was the huge turnout of people who came to pay their respect. They were waiting outside on Castle Hill Avenue for over an hour to get into the funeral parlor. My friend Paul asked if Mike had been a Pope. There were so many people there that it was hard to grieve. The crowd overwhelmed us and just made us realize that Mike wasn’t just special to his family but he was beloved to all who came in contact with him. It reminded me of George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life. In fact, I used that in my eulogy.

I also quoted a line from the Wizard of Oz. I said, “In The Wizard Of Oz the Wizard tells the Tin Man that a heart is judged not by how much you love but by how much you are loved by others. Mike had a magnificent heart.”

Many of you know that I love Lionel trains and have a considerable collection. I blame Mike for this. He had me loving Lionel trains just like he had me loving the Mickey Mantle and the Yankees and Joe Namath and the New York Jets. Sometimes Mike made mistakes.

One time a few years before he died I told Mike that I saw a beautiful Santa Fe locomotive. Unbeknownst to me the next day he went to the train store. He called me when he got home and said that he saw the engine and put $50 on it for me. He said, “You just have to get it.” From time to time when I am searching on EBay I still hear that voice. Back to1998.

I started my day on August 26, 1998 like I did most days. I called Margaret, Mike’s wife and we talked and cried like we did every other day and we both said that it felt like twenty years or just last week that Mike left us. I then went about my work and had a typical day talking to students and pushing paper. Then before I knew it lunchtime had arrived. I always do the New York Times crossword puzzle at lunchtime and this day was no exception.

I started the puzzle and was going along pretty well for a Wednesday when I came to a clue that had me smiling and shaking my head. “Name of Famous Train”, six letters. It was amazing because the answer was “Lionel”!

I immediately called Margaret and told her of this terrific coincidence. She said, “He’s watching you Jimmy.”

I continued the puzzle and then a clue or two later came upon “Eulogizes”. The answer was “Lauds.” I gave his eulogy! Can you believe this? Now, it was getting freaky. I called Margaret again and she was amazed.

Now, this was one of those puzzles that had a clue for an answer that spanned the entire puzzle going across. I hate those because it’s usually something I am not familiar with like Greek Mythology. I couldn’t avoid it any longer so I read the clue. “Frequently aired movie.” I was hyperventilating. I was sure it was It’s A Wonderful Life”. It wasn’t and I was kind of upset. It would have made a nice trifecta and a great story. But then I had another thought.

Sure enough, “The Wizard Of Oz” was the correct answer. Mike was there and he was messing with my head. I called Margaret and we were both speechless but we knew what we felt was true. Mike was with us.

That puzzle was sacred to me and I stopped doing it upon entering The Wizard Of Oz. I never went back to it. I put it in my bag and there it remained until the summer of 2002.

We were getting rid of our van and as I was cleaning out the back seat I came across my bag. I took it out and reviewed its contents and saw the puzzle. I began telling a neighbor the story of the puzzle just as I have outlined it here for you. I added that I never went back to the puzzle and as I said this I happened upon another clue. “Brooklyn Sch.” The answer for this, as those of you who do the puzzle should already know because it is a repeater like Bobby Orr, is “LIU.” One of the campuses of LIU was Southampton College where I had just recently started working.

Believe what you want but no agnostic, atheist, or whatever named nonbeliever can ever convince me that this life is all that there is. The puzzle of life and death has, for me, been solved by another puzzle and while I got neither a job nor my faith through the New York Times, I sure got a strong editorial in its support that only the clueless would deny.

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14

Fourteen years ago this week I was first diagnosed with Chronic Lymphocytic Leukemia (CLL).
Not too many years ago that would have been impossible to state. I have to remind myself of that fact every time I rant about how this country is no longer able to put people on the moon. If there is one area in which the promise of the future has been fulfilled, it has been in medicine.

But we still have a long way to go.

At the time of my diagnosis is August, 2000 I was told that expectancy to survive ten years was extremely high. Ok, not quite the news I wanted to hear but it was still reassuring that I was in no immediate danger of being able to answer the immortal question of “What is this all about anyway?”

Ove the 14 years I did undergo chemo therapy and while it was not a picnic, I was able to work and continue a relatively normal lifestyle. Of course, my theory has always been that it was work, particularly the two places I worked when chemo was prescribed, that was the ultimate cause of my ill health. I solved that dilemma by arriving at my current position where there are no “carriers” of the ill health bug. There is no one who makes me sick is what I am trying to say.

Now going into my 15th year and having been declared in remission for the last seven years, I strive to take advantage of my recovery and remission. I don’t want to waste surviving. I try to think of that every time I am walking from the train to the subway and it is not always easy. Old habits die harder than we do. But I catch myself and then try to focus on the beauty and the loving that makes up my life.

I had a great event a couple of weeks ago when I gave my talk at the East Hampton Library. It wasn’t so much the talk as the party afterwards. My family and friends all came back and we had a great time. More material was provided for the next book and new stories were certainly created.

I am not sure the book or that party would have happened had it not been for 14. It’s crazy to say, and it is not the first time I have said it, but getting CLL was a blessing. It freed me of the burden of mindless, arrogant people and they were quickly eschewed and replacements are never ordered or accepted.

I used to say in 2000 that it was still better than 1999. Only a few of my readers, who were my colleagues back then, will understand the reference.

2014 is better still.

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