The Newell Post

It’s that time of year when I return to one of the rituals of my youth. Listening to Jesus Christ Superstar during Holy Week was one way I attempted to get into the spirit of the Paschal Mystery. This may be foreign territory to my non-Catholic readers so I will explain. Matthew’s gospel contains a section entitled The Passion Of Our Lord which details the final days of Jesus. Beginning with the Last Supper and ending with the Crucifixion, the Passion is required reading during the sacred time of Holy Week.

Listening to Jesus Christ Superstar, a rock opera that more or less follows the same trajectory of Christ’s last day without the Divine significance believers attribute to the events, may seem like a crass, if not heretical way of observing the Passion. And, it would be were it not for the fact that I do read Matthew’s account for the more traditional analysis.

While listening to the rock opera guilt free this morning on my way into work, I thought about the admonition that Judas made concerning Jesus’ decision not to come at a time of mass communication. Now, back in the 1970’s when Jesus Christ Superstar was written and performed on stage, the term mass communication really meant television and, to a lesser extent, radio. There was no internet; there was no Facebook; there was no Twitter, Snapchat or Linkedin.

Nevertheless, following Judas’ lead (which is not always advisable), I asked, What Would Jesus  Tweet?

I don’t tweet so often. I rarely have gotten into a conversation with anyone although I have replied to a couple of people. But the stories I hear about other people lead me to believe that Jesus would have taken it slow. Of course, he would have wanted everyone to follow Him, after all he said that constantly in the New Testament. But I am not so sure he would have wanted to follow too many people after He got a look at some of their tweets.

I think Pope Francis would be a definite. He is forever tweeting the very things we would expect Jesus to tweet. I do think, however, Jesus would have let the wall building bridge building thing pass or would He?

As I think about it, Jesus probably would have taken all the haters on although being limited to one hundred and forty characters would have been a challenge.

Jesus had no tolerance for those who misused religion for their own gain. Just remember that scene in the Temple when he let those making it a den of thieves have it. I am guessing He would have the same reaction to those using religion to kill.

I do wonder what His reaction to my tweets would have been? Even if they were not of the type to inspire racial, ethnic, or political hatred, tweets that were unkind or mean spirited might result in the same disappointment for Jesus.

I am going to think about the next time I tweet or post.

I am in the middle of my annual read of Charles Dickens’ masterpiece A Christmas Carol.

I always included this in my “Transformation” lecture when I was a teacher. I gave it this time of year to illustrate the transformative nature of Christmas. We see transformation as a common theme in most of the Christmas stories that we all grew up with and handed down to our children.

George Bailey, Charlie Brown, Rudolph are just a few of the characters that witness Christ’s transformative gift to mankind. Sorry, I am not PC and used Christ and mankind in the same sentence. Also, I should point out, I am using the archaic meaning of transformation and not the one hijacked by Caitlin.

Anyway, the characters listed above go through their own realization as to what is important in life and learn the true meaning of Christmas. It is, after all, the ultimate inclusion tale.

One of the variations of A Christmas Carol that I used to love to read as a kid was the comic book version of A Disney Christmas Carol. When I was about ten a very dear friend, Carol gave me a treasure trove of comics and it included this comic book. I wish I still had it.

To those of you who are familiar with this rendition, Scrooge McDuck is the main character and is subjected to the ghostly visitations that change the course of his life. On the train this morning I was musing that perhaps Donald Trump might have the same experience. Who else needs a radical transformation more than The Donald?

Scrooge McTrump would be met by the apparitions of Presidential candidates who were victimized by their own folly.

The first  Ghost of Past Elections was a Romney but not the one you think. It was 1968 and George Romney proclaimed he was “brainwashed” and quickly changed his view of the Viet Nam War. He never came back from that.

Then  of course there was the Ghost of more recent past as portrayed by George Bush I and his proclamation about no new tax hike “Read My Lips”.

Finally, the Ghost of President Worst To Come sticks his bony hands out of his dark shawl giving the V for victory sign proclaiming “I am not a crook!”

Well, after all this dire political misery our hero McTrup is left in a heap grabbing on to his bank statement yelling out “IVANNA IVANNA”.

But McTrump is soon in control of his senses as the television in his bedroom lights up and Megyn Kelly reports that The Donald has withdrawn from the presidential race and is joining the Peace Corps.

Monday Mornings are bad commuting days. I was extremely tired from a very nice weekend. I imagine the train crew for the 6:56 train from Ronkonkoma to Atlantic Terminal was every bit as tired as I. Certainly my fellow riders were tired.

Because I was encsonced in my Bose headphones if not in velvet, I never noticed that we were running late. It was Monday and I should have just assumed that we would be late. Nevertheless, I did not and when I got to Atlantic Terminal the only odd thing I did notice was that the subways were also late. Usually they act up on Wednesdays and run pretty regularly on Mondays. I ran up one platform only to learn that the next train was coming in on the other platform. I missed that  subway.

The next train on my platform was due in 20 minutes. The train that was originally due in 12 minutes on the other platform was now down to 5 minutes. I made the trip downstairs and upstairs but I immediately recognized my mistake.

There was a man crying.

As if I hadn’t had enough on my plate. The rail road was late. The subway was even later. It was Monday and I hate being be late on Mondays and now there was a man crying.

The man was not only crying, he was bleeding too. A real mess. It was hard to see what caused the bleeding as there was a large screw driver sticking into his side and blocking the view. Perhaps it was the screw driver that was causing the bleeding? Perhaps it was the screw driver that was causing the crying.

Well, I was already late and had absolutely no time or interest in getting involved. I was not alone. My fellow passengers anxiously awaiting the 2 train gravitated down the platform seeking refuge from the crying man. I assumed my train face. No eye contact, a look of oblivion, and the appearance that I am somewhere else.

The man was crying louder than ever and the blood kept gushing but I passed him by. I was not alone. The Presidential candidates were there and they passed him by. The religious right looked the other way. Liberal Catholics, Orthodox Jews and Moderate Muslims all walked right on by. I could almost hear Dion Warwick singing. The Pro Life and Pro Choice people were bumping into each other trying to get out of there. The Evolutionists agreed with the Creationists that the best thing to do was to leave. Prohibitionists and Abolitionists of all shapes and sizes moved quickly to avoid eye contact with the crying man.

Then the rumbling of the 2 train momentarily overtook the crying of the bleeding man. The doors opened and we all rushed for a good seat trembling with the fear that only a bleeding man who was crying threatening to sit next to you could cause.

We all exhaled, “Thank God!” The crying man stayed on the platform bleeding and crying.

There was a man crying. He wasn’t bleeding and there was no screw driver stuck into his side. But he was screaming and crying and in no less pain than if he had been pierced with a screw driver. There was a man crying because he was mentally ill. We have all witnessed the mentally ill somewhere whether it was in the city or in a small suburban town.

When I saw this man crying this Monday morning I wondered why I was so comfortable leaving him in his agony when had he been bleeding with a screw driver in his side I and 50 other people would have been rallying to his aid? Why is that?

If I was the crying man, would you not stop and help me?

I don’t know who the next President will be but I hope he or she can actually get somebody to do something. We have good people in this world, we don’t have to wait for a new President so why is it so impossible to help a man crying on a subway platform on a Monday Morning?

We were late getting to our reception because of the photographer. Fortunately my groomsen had the foresight to stop at a bodega in transit from the church to the photographer’s studio. But, of course, they only were able to secure beverages and no pigs in the blanket or other cocktail party fare.

Only days before Eileen and I met with the caterer to go over the list of guests and the seating chart. For some reason, we both ( the caterer and us) made an error in counting and we hadn’t even had a drink yet. So, when we finally had taken all the pictures (or so I thought) and were able to get to the catering hall the first thing we learned is that we had a table-full of guests who had no table. The caterer quickly set one up before we got there and all was well.

Because we were so long taking pictures and so late getting to the hall, we missed our own cocktail party. Looking back I should have made a stink but the caterer had the guilt trip all ready for me: “You don’t want to keep your guests waiting , do you?”

At the time I didn’t but if you ask me today I say screw ’em I want some shrimp and scallops wrapped in bacon.

Mr. and Mrs. James Newell were introduced for the first time and we danced one dance and then didn’t see each other for an hour or two. It was an Irish wedding and adult beverages were readily available.

We did dance to Here There and Everywhere and we cut the cake and all the traditional things that couples do. Pop sang a song or two, definitely Five Foot Two Eyes Of Blue and he ended that rendition by singing “Has anybody seen my gal….without a shirt?”

For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to keep the party going so just when our bandleader was announcing the last song I gave him the high sign that we would have one more hour, having just shaken the hand of the caterer.

Now, September 19, 1976 was a Sunday and all my family (my brother Johnny in particular) was already a little miffed about having to stay out late on a school night and now they had to endure another hour! They bore the burden well and ordered more adult beverages.

I had had just enough adult beverages. Unfortunately, I had had just enough around 8:00PM and I did not stop at just enough. My bride was of the same opinion so that by the end, the real end of our celebration, we were both properly toasted.

Nevertheless, it came as no surprise that we should plan to meet our friends at a bar in the Bronx. McGuinness and Farrell was a bar on East Tremont and one of the owners was a great friend of the family and an attendee. Before going to the bar we had to go back to 1123 White Plains Rd to get our suitcases for we were going to be checking into the Plaza in the city.

While Eileen was attending to the suitcases, being just a wee tired I decided to take a nap. I napped in the driveway, and not in a car but in the driveway.

We got to the bar in our wedding regalia and were finally done with toasting. Our friends Pat and Paul drove us down to the Plaza.

If you never stayed in the Plaza, let me just say that their version of a king size bed is more akin to a small air craft carrier. I was overwhelmed by the luxury and went downstairs to implore Pat and Paul to come up and see it. They abstained.

I went back upstairs as the luggage arrived and heard Eileen mumble something about keys to the luggage and that is where I shall leave you.

Although I will admit that Donald does create riveting drama, and God knows we need it at least until the new season of NCIS starts, he makes me very uncomfortable when I now see him on TV especially with a podium in front of him. It used to be that only his hair made me uneasy but now when he starts to talk I immediately start to cringe and that is too bad.

You see I hate PC. I really do. I grow tired of microaggressions that apparently people endure if you speak of America as a melting pot or even if you say you are American. That’s one that confuses me. I know we have North America of which the United States is only one component and that Mexicans and Canadians might find offense at being excluded. But after all, we live in the United States OF AMERICA!!! It’s in our name. How can we not be Americans? What is up with that? If it offends you, TOO BAD!

So, when Donald does address some PC stuff I do like it. It’s ok to ruffle feathers. The problem is that Donald has no filter and as many of you have seen on his hit reality TV show (I don’t watch reality TV unless Gibbs is in it) he doesn’t take direction well.

He is so insensitive to the things that annoy people that he actually has pissed off FOX News. I think Hillary gets better reviews now.

Speaking of Hillary, even she has had her moment of speaking NON PC. She got in the face of the guy from Black Lives Matter. I swear this is an attempt to get Trump elected much as the radicals in 1968 got Nixon elected by Dumping Hubert Humphrey.

The best part of this is that no one is paying attention to AROD anymore.

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

A Bronx Boy’s Tale…The Reviews.

GoodReads   https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18759123-a-bronx-boy-s-tale?ac=1

Amazon

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.

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.