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| First Ever Blog |
| October 9th, 2025 On this day in 1940 John Lennon a legendary musician whose poetic lyrics and tight harmonies (both with The Beatles and solo) helped imagine a better world was born. https://www.btboces.org/Downloads/3_Imagine%20by%20John%20Lennon.pdf Let the lyrics to Imagine inspire your entry today. What do you Imagine? ===================================== It’s a lovely little poem. Fantasy escapism. Reminds me of the weather in Camelot, where “The climate must be perfect all the year.” At least according to the desires of King Arthur (or Alan Jay Lerner & Frederick Loewe). Ah, if the world was different, if it was… not the world, but somehow unique and perfect for each individual. After all, there are people who enjoy all-day rains, and thunderstorms, and even tornadoes. And others who prefer summer all year round. How dull the world be if there were no countries, just all one culture, one language, one mode of dress. How empty our lives might be without possessions, like a keepsake from a loved one, a hand sewn dress that fits perfectly, a Harley-Davidson Low Rider always available for a spontaneous joy ride. “Imagine” is the kind of thoughts one might have relaxing in a hammock on a summer evening, savoring the comfort, the peace, the bird songs. Until a voice from back door yells, “pizza’s here!” That’s life, baby. |
| October 7 Write about losing a day Back in September, 2009 I was training for a marathon. I was along the edge of a sidestreet one moment, lying in a hospital bed the next. When I was told I was found unconscious in the gutter I couldn’t believe it. I asked the doctor what happened, he said he hoped I would tell him. I had various injuries including a broken foot and seriously bruised left shoulder. But the worst were the scrapes and bruises on my face and a pretty messed up torn lip. It didn’t seem as though I’d been hit by a vehicle as there was no trauma to my torso or legs, except for the broken foot. He then asked those concussion protocol questions and when I said today was Tuesday, he shook his head and told me it was 4pm Wednesday. The last thing I remembered it was about 10:30am the day before. I’d been out of it for some 30 hours. They kept me for another two days of blood tests, x-rays, MRIs, CAT scans and especially brain scans. After all that, they couldn’t tell me why I’d apparently passed out mid-stride. My guess…it was a combination of dehydration and an AFib event. During an AFib event the blood pressure can drop significantly. And if I were dehydrated, it’s possible my brain succumbed to a sudden drop in oxygen and fuel. And I fainted. Hitting my unprotected head on the roadway caused the loss of those 30 hours. Now, I’m not a doctor (though I did play one in a very, very off-Broadway production once), but the ‘experts’ on Google in 2009 admitted this was possible. My actual doctors said they didn’t have sufficient information to come to any conclusion. Which I understand. Anyway, it did recur one more time the following year, though not nearly so serious, so I switched from running Marathons to doing half marathons. I also suspected that an over-the-counter medication I’d used prior to both falls may have contributed to my dehydration. Immodium - for preventing the runs (the unpleasant kind of runs). It says right in the instructions it can cause dehydration. So I stopped using that and decided to try eating better. Knock wood, it’s never happened again. |
| October 1, 2025 What is your favorite Halloween memory? I have never been a fan of Halloween. As a youngster, even in grade 6, I was pretty much a loner. I had a serious sugar craving, but generally stayed as far from chocolate as possible. I’d seen its explosive reactions on so many preteen and teen faces. So I was quite content to settle into my shared bedroom and construct whatever with Lincoln Logs and several Erector Sets. My mother wasn’t. She insisted I go out Trick or Treating. When I said I had no costume, she grabbed a 3x5 card, printed PRESS on it in big bold letters, stuck it in the hatband of one of my dad’s fedoras, and plopped it on my head. Then she threw me out. Keep in mind this was the late 1950s when suburban kids roamed the streets with no parents in sight. I latched onto a group with some familiar faces and figured I’d just tag along. It was fine. Then there came some popping noises from two blocks away followed by lots of screaming and shouting. (Unfortunately, these days you’d automatically think gunfire. But no, it was the 50s.) We all recognized it immediately as eggs hitting windshields and metal autobody parts. It was over in a few minutes. Apparently some kids from that area had successfully targeted a Chevy with a couple of high school boys. We just laughed and moved to the next house. When we got to the area of the egging, two cars turned into our street. Before they reached us the popping and splatting noises began, quite loud now. About a dozen teen boys leapt from the cars to chase down the culprits. Young kids were screaming and running in every direction. I just stood on the spot. (Too many early experiences had taught me if you run and get caught, the punishment was worse.) A pair of girls were speeding in my direction just ahead of three teens when one of them tripped sliding face first along someone’s front lawn. I knelt to help her when the older kids rushed up. The girl rolled over and eyed the teens. “Touch me and my brother Anthony will kill you,” she yelled. “Kelly and I weren’t throwing any eggs, so you can keep chasing those other kids.” She turned her head indicating where some of the kids could still be seen. One of the angry teens clearly recognized her. “Yeah, that’s Tony D’s kid sister. She’s okay. What about you?” he looked daggers at me. I opened the handles on my candy bag, holding it out for him to see. “No eggs, and not much candy either,” I said. “C’mon let’s go,” he chuckled, and they took off back to the chase. I had recognized the girl as soon as she’d rolled over on the ground. Teresa D’Angelo. Prettiest girl in my class and maybe in the entire sixth grade. I helped her to her feet and she smiled while brushing the grass off her princess costume. “Thanks, Kelly. Darn, I lost my candy collection.” “Here.” I handed her mine. “It would’ve gone straight to the trash at my house.” “I know,” she laughed, flashing a dazzling smile. “It’s just a ton of pimples in fancy wrapping.” Then she lunged forward and hugged me, planted a kiss on my cheek, then let go. “I gotta find my friends. See you in class, Kel.” When I got home, my mother asked where my loot was. I said, “I gave it away. It’s just a ton of pimples in fancy wrapping.” And I went to my room, very confused and ambivalent about how I now felt about Halloween. It turns out that was the only happy Halloween I ever had. These days I try to find a library that’s open late that night, or someplace else I can hide until it’s over. |
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