A Great Many "Could Have Beens"

My father told me the story of the time he owned a baseball signed by Robyn Roberts, a pitcher for the Philadelphia Phillies back in the fifties. According to him, he "should have" taken the ball with him to Las Vegas, where he moved from New Jersey, the final resting place of said baseball. My father lived in an apartment adjacent to my grandparent's bakery. He assumes that the ball was destroyed in a fire the bake shop suffered some many years ago. Even if it had survived, he could not retrieve it, nor ask his brother to send it to him, for his brother and my father have not been on speaking terms since the 1970's. My father often tells me the story of what a great arm he had. He could through a hand grenade a hundred yards according to his drill sergeant's estimation. He played baseball when he was a teenager, often striking out because he was too aggressive at the plate. However, my father could pitch. He knows just about everything about pitching. He tells me about how to grip a slider, how to release side-arm, the difference in velocities and movement between a split-finger and a four-seamer. My father's dream was to play for the Yankees, but he didn't even try out for the minors because of his duties to the family business, which sounds like he was "mobbed-up." I assure you his only interest was in the legitimate family business of baking. My father went to a vocational school and studied culinary arts because he was to take over the family business. Of course, his older brother took over the family business and my father and he had a falling out over some control issues. My father has always resented his older brother for bringing the business down with his choice of less-than-fine ingredients. The two men don't like each other and hardly acknowledge the other's existence.

My father never learned how to be the younger brother, or even how to just be cool. He is a tense and stubborn man. He maintains that he could have been a pro baseball player. He could have been a fabulous baker. He could have taken over the family business. He never stuck with any of these plans. He always had a reason to bail which ultimately lead him to the desert where he held the uninspiring position of roulette dealer for thirty years. Though, life for a dealer was somewhat glamorous in the 1970's and 1980's, it lost its allure in the 1990's. My father also lost his allure, and the position ground him down in to an embittered family man who could barely afford to buy clothes for his kids. He could have stopped at two kids and lived comfortably, but he chose to have four kids. I love my younger brothers. I am making an observation about the economic reasons to limit the number of members in one's household. I feel this is especially important when the sole income earner resents his kids for existing.

I am pleased to say I have followed my dreams. I have lead an amazing life which I continue to live with passion. I once was headed down a path of "could have beens," but I diverged from the straight and narrow long ago. I have been on a meandering paths of "come what may" without reproach and it has enriched my life tremendously. I have toured with the biggest band in the world. I have lived in Music Capital of the World. I have loved many women. I do not regret a moment. There have been hardships and struggle. There have been rewards and triumphs. I do have my share of "could have beens" but these musings are a path to regret, and I wouldn't change a thing that has happened to me or I have done.

There is still so much life to live. Life is long and if you delineate your life in to a number of days, you will see that there are good times and bad, but all in all, there is an opportunity to make mistakes, to make strides, to learn, to feel. I will never live vanilla again. I will live peppermint, strawberry, mango and lemon. I have a theory that when a man ceases to progress, his hair will fall out. May you never see me bald for it will mean I've slumped in to a sedentary life. I will prosper, advance, progress and persevere.

Thank you, oh, conscious reader. You bring truth to this ode.

Columbus Day

Columbus Day is not a legitimate holiday unless you work for the government or one of her contractors. Yes, the government is a she, kind an giving agent of democracy and infrastructure. She cares deeply about our future. I don't know where I am going with this. I just liked using the female pronoun. So, it is Columbus day and I am pleased to announce that I slept in an extra two hours, had my coffee, had my cigarettes, and am now typing away in multicolored underwear, black socks and a salmon t-shirt that hangs gauntly over my small frame. I have not shaved for days and do not intend to shower for a few more hours. Today is a lazy day. I feel as though my weekend starts today which is a cruel thought because it will abruptly end tomorrow.

Since it is a Holiday I thought I'd treat myself to a little leisure time at the Coffee Bean. I love the drinks there, especially the Ice-Blended Green Tea. Though today I went for the traditional medium dark roast. Drinking coffee and sitting on the patio adjacent to Maryland Parkway, I realized, is a uniquely Vegas experience. The lush landscaping of the of the University is visible from across the street and symbolizes man's plight to conform and beautify his environment, which is naturally a yellow dusty no-man's land. Where there were once tumbleweeds, coyotes and Jack Rabbits, there is now a six-lane highway, Einstein's Bagels and the city's center for cultural enhancement and enlightenment.

The University district is once again flourishing, brimming with youthful energy and a passion for good food, good music and good libations. The gentry here are a mix of labor class families, student's, artists and musicians. Though at night the seediness of the area becomes evident as inebriated vagrants stumble along the sidewalks and the intermittently present hum of a police helicopter circles overhead. By day it is a meeting place for conversationalists. I overheard two gentlemen this morning share golfing tips. I overheard a young woman talk incessant shit about her friends. And I heard to women discussing work and the inability to rise above their class. It flourished in the early nineties. Businesses such as Cafe Copioh, Cafe Roma, Benway Bop, and Tower records were a destination for the fourteen-and-older crowd. It was a bustling area which offered unique experiences in culture and retail. Business slowly decayed in the late nineties and in to the next millennium and franchises such as Starbucks and the Coffee Bean appeared and began to attract a more affluent crowd. Walk-in traffic for the other cafes ceased, as did traffic at the record stores. Internet business is to be thanked for that.

There a many hold-outs in near the University such as the Stakeout. A two-tiered neighborhood bad which attracts the hipsters, drunks and old maids who live near by. I ended up there one night and was surprised at how many familiar faces were there. I am not from the neighborhood, but I feel connected to it somehow. I plan to move there as soon as I get out from under this debt.

At any rate it was a lovely day. It was a eighty-five degrees and lightly breezy. It was a good day to be outdoors drinking coffee and enjoying a good book.