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A New Jersey Yankee in the Heart of Country

I have never been a fan of Country Music. I remember when it was referred to as Country Western, and the twang was a killer to my ears. That down home sound was a downer. My dad was a fan of the old show “Hee Haw”. I couldn’t be anywhere near the television, or in listening range when it was on. As soon as they started popping out of the cornfield, I’d be popping out of the room. No Buck Owens or Roy Clark for me. It has always just been a personal preference. Even at the age of seven, I knew I didn’t like the steel guitar, or any type of honky tonk sound.   The music, the outfits, the big hair on the female singers was definitely not anything that was going to win me over.   The only place I wanted to hear a banjo was at the “Country Bear Jamboree” at Disneyworld. I was always a Soul Man. Give me The Supremes, Stevie Wonder and Martha and Vandellas “Dancing in the Street.” I loved the funky dance sound, not the lament that someone ran over my wife with a p...

No More Mr. Nice Guy

I can remember numerous times in my life when I have been described as a “ nice guy” . I guess that is not a bad thing to be, but it just seems so bland. “He is so nice.” What does that mean exactly? Does it refer to a person who helps others, is thoughtful and kind, or does it mean he doesn’t pick his nose and belch in public?     Nice is such a non-commitment word. It doesn’t really bring forth any distinct images. It comes off sounding like you are describing a person who is just sufficient. It is someone who fits acceptably into society. It is like being considered beige in a world of color.   “Nice” is a generic way to describe something. It is a politically correct word that indicates you're not displeased with something or someone, but you have no true impression, other than it left a pleasant or nonthreatening feeling. The phrase “nice guys finish last,” does not mean that you have to be mean or cutthroat to get ahead – it means that you are b...

Roles and Responsibility - The Turning Tables on Parenting

I always knew that I didn’t want to have children. I guess I was intuitive enough to know that I was too selfish, and didn’t feel I had the knack for parenting. I have never been able to tolerate a crying baby or a screaming toddler. The noise is like a red alert saying, “Exit the building immediately.” I feel good knowing that I wasn’t cut out for parenthood, and that I realize it. I never wanted to share my toys, and I still get annoyed when there are actually children in Toys R Us .   I never felt that I had the patience, the tolerance, and much less the wisdom to be a good parent.   Also, I didn’t want the responsibility that comes with that role.   There are times when I hate to be responsible for myself, much less another individual. So I guess you can figure out that I have never had children. I’ve never thought of adopting or fostering or even Big Brothering.   I have had the pleasure of babysitting and that fulfilled any parenting I ever wanted to do. ...

The Birthday Botox Blues

The wheels and gears of time grind on. Each sweep of the second hand thrusts us forward, as time passes by. I have started to reflect on time and age as another birthday arrives. Everyone has his or her take on getting older and aging. For most of us, in our society, it is not looked upon favorably. In fact, getting older pretty much stinks. Time is a ravager. If you have any doubt take a look in the mirror. That reflective glass we stare into likes to taunt us with the latest wrinkle or spot. It is a slow decline as gravity tries to suck us back into the earth. I was just looking through some old photos before I posted my latest blog, and I was shocked at what I saw. A much thinner, youthful me was staring back.   What happened to that guy?  We lose track of the nuanced changes that take place, as we get older, because we see ourselves everyday. It is a very slow stop-motion film from infancy to Armageddon. I just didn’t noti...