The Duties Of A Son

To follow a father's shadow can be daunting. The achievements and the signposts that your dad has left in life can either be inspiring, or, can cause you to see your own faults. If you are like me and had a father that was your hero, then it can be even harder. To be a son is to be measured. How you act like a man and how you act like a functioning adult, is all tied to the bonds of blood you get from the man who helped create you... I can't speak for what it is like to be a daughter, obviously. Daughters are to be adored and spoiled. ''Daddy's Little Girl'' will always have a special place in a father's heart. The sparkle in a man's eye is for his little princess. If there is any conflict for a daughter growing up, it may come from a mother and daughter. Perhaps, it is the parallel road that a father and son share. Two heads butting, at times, because they are of the same mind. It is not a battle like men and women have. That battle is part intellectual, part sexual, part dominance. Rather, it is a battle of ''I know what you are thinking of because I have been there, so, do not try to put one over on me'' school of thinking... Nobody ever told me about what the duties of a son are. I just learned by watching and by osmosis. Watching being the key word. I knew growing up the importance of family. I still do, even more so now. While everyone plays a role, it is a father who is the focus in the leadership of a family. I do not mean to imply that women are not capable of being in charge of a family. That would be false and stupid. Many women are that focus. I am just speaking from my experience of growing up in a time that seems a thousand years ago. Different time and place altogether from our current world. My family-- and, the families of my friends-- all had that dominant male force that drove the engine of the family. My Mom was a close second. She was the steady companion of my Dad walking through life together as a team in love. Dad supplied the leadership because he was a natural. And, watching how he handled everyday problems I saw how a son should conduct himself in life. With decency and understanding. With compassion and honesty. With hard work and gentle play. A caring for the less fortunate and someone in need. And, above all else, love. Love for family and friends...The duties of a son are also on exhibit when a son is with a woman. Dad showed me how to treat a woman by how he treated my Mom. The treatment was of protection, caring, and strength. Be there for her when things are good-- that is easy. But, also during the bad times.Your shoulder should be the one that a woman cries on during life's battles. Your embrace should be the one that she feels when she cannot handle the burden of the world and needs someone to help her carry the cross of pain. Holding her and encouraging her are your duties as a man in the relationship. The rest-- the money you make, the size of your house-- is all smoke and mirrors. Be there for her. Let nothing, or, no one, ever come between you... The dark times are when a son is tested. There is an old saying that the shock of death changes a person so much that you come out of it a different person afterwords. I know it was for me. I had seen the tragedies that go on in life, but, it was never close in my soul until it came in my house during that horrible period in the 1990's. It was illness, I believe, that truly made my stripes as a man. I became the caretaker of my parents illness battles because I was there. The hospital stays and the doctor's visits were my responsibilities. I took them on because I had to. There was no other choice. I had to be there for my parents because I loved them and they were always there for me. It was how myself-- and, my sister and brother-- were raised. We all took our turns for our parents, but, I did the heavy lifting. I was single. They had their lives to lead. Don't get me wrong, they did their share. I just did more because I was on the front lines with Mom and Dad in the war to live. I saw their frustration and pain. I saw their loss of vitality and the joy of life. I faltered sometimes and made my mistakes, but, because of what I learned from them, particularly my dad, I did the best I could. I made them proud because I was proud of them and what they gave me. I did not do it for self-congratulations. There are people like that in the world, who go through the actions of caring so they will get noticed. Have you ever asked someone , who is taking care of a sick person, how that sick person is, and, the response you get is how hard it is on THEM? Not on the sick person, but, the selfish way the ''caretaker'' is reacting? I find these people repugnant and certainly not deserving of my sympathy. I feel worse for the patient because there is selfishness and phoniness around their care.... My Dad, when he had his colon cancer in 1991, spoke to me privately one late night in the hospital. It was during the period when we thought we were going to lose him. It was a private talk between Father and Son. The complete conversation I will not tell you about because it is a special pact with Dad. There was nothing seedy , or, some great confession. It was my Dad and myself sharing the love that we had in our hearts for each other. It is one of those conversations in life that no one else should hear. But, I will tell you a little of what we talked about. It was about being a good man and a good family man. He wanted me to know of proud of he was of me and how I had turned out. How I would continue his legacy and goodness in life after he passed on. He also asked me to watch over the family. My brother was still alive then, but, he lived out of state. My sister lived nearby-- and, was the apple of his eye-- but, she had a young family of her own and had her life there. Dad wanted me to anchor the family and watch out for everybody because I was the most like him. I looked him directly in the eyes and told him I would. And, then, he started crying. I did, too. Dad, through his tears, also asked me to take care of my Mom. He was worried that she would be lost in a world of exploiters and bad people. That was a big thing Dad always did for the family-- he kept the wolf at the door all throughout our lives and protected us against the horrors of the world. Through my tears I told him I would always take care of my Mom, who was the love of his life. We then hugged. Crying and hugging. Though it was never stated directly he was passing the torch of the family to me. I have never dropped it. And, I do not ever expect to receive anything more valuable than that... I write this because I have seen the duties of a son recently by two close friends of mine who just lost their fathers, one a month ago, the other today. They both did a hell of a job!! Their parents raised them well!!! They were there for family. Just about all of the things they did for their dads I did also. Every thought, every fear, every frustration. And, every ounce of love. Both my friends, James and Mike, right now have a very proud father looking down on them...I know all of you have similar moments with family. You just do it and not think of why. It is the blood love talking... And, with loved ones, we will always listen...

The Life At The Party

I wanna be there!!!! It sounds like it would be a great party and I have always been up for a fun time. There will be the music. Of course, Classic Rock will dominate, for it is my favorite style of music. The Beatles will sing ''In My Life'' and about that girl Prudence. The Stones will give you all shelter and be street fighting men. But, wait, there will be other styles of music that I hold dear to me heart. A large dose of Motown and R&B. The Temptations and Sly and the Family Stone and Marvin Gaye. Plus, James Brown and Brother Ray. Fast, good, loud music to get your juices going. And, then, some slow songs to soften your heart. Pre-Rock and Roll. Sam Cook will sing about a change that will come. Frank will tell you that it is 3am and there is no one in the place but you and him. Tony Bennett will tell you he wants to be around. Setting the mood with music is paramount to any party.... There will be movies to enjoy playing on the big screen. All my favorites. Michael killing Sollozzo in the restaurant in ''The Godfather''. Jake and Elwood singing and dancing up a storm in ''The Blues Brothers''. Jack Nicholson discovering the secret that shocks his soul in ''Chinatown''. Yes, my wake will be fun!!!... Now, no worry, I am fine. I am very healthy-- at least that is what my doctor tells me. And, I feel fine also. So, I am not planning on going anywhere anytime soon. I hope to be around many years with all of you. Recently, though, I have sadly gone to many wakes. I pay my respects, as a person should do. I honor the departed and the family. It is solemn. It is traditonal. It is respectful. Nothing wrong with a wake and a funeral... It is just I never wanted this for me. When I pass I have given strict instructions to my family that after my body leaves the morgue I will go to the crematorium. My ashes will be thrown to the wind sometime after. That is how it should be with free spirits like myself. We do not go into the ground or a wall or stay in an urn. I can't think of anything more confining than that [ and, yes, I know you are dead and can't feel it but it still feels creepy to me].  I want no tears over my body as I lay in a casket, while people, with good intentions, tell my loved ones how good I look lying there. I don't want my survivors-- both family and friends-- to go through the grief stage. I don't want you sad, but, in a good environment celebrating my life. My send-off will involve positive feelings and good, hearty laughs. Hence, the party... And, it will be one fuck of a party!!! It will be at an Italian restaurant in Des Plaines, where I grew up. It used to be called ''Nick's La Catina'' but, many years ago it switched names to ''Giuseppe's. Same owners. Same damn good dago food, too!!! The gravy [ that is what real Italians call the red sauce] is wonderful. Try the lasagna, always my favorite there. No matter. There will be a wide selection of foods to choose from. Both on their menu and what I supply. There will be tasty helpings of cheeseballs, cheeseburgers, pies and cakes, that will be alongside all of the pasta. Muncha!! I suppose I should have some Tums handy too, for after the meal. You all saw me eat. You saw the joy that food brought my life. If you do not roll out of there with a full belly and a tight belt, I will haunt you... You all know that there will be beverages there. Strong liquid to toast with. I would be remiss as a host if I did not get you all shit-faced. After all I am paying for the party-- with the money I am saving by not having a wake and funeral-- so, feel free to get hammered and remember the occasional times you saw me take a drink or two... You must promise me you will have fun. That I cannot provide. I will get things set up for you with the ingrediants to have fun, but, it is up to you to take it from there. I know you will, for that is why I have chosen to have you all close to me all these years. Tell the stories about me, both good and bad. I know you have them. These stories will provide the emotional feeling feeling at the party, and, also, show a representation of who I was. Many of you will be meeting each other  for the first time at this shindig. I have a wide spectrum of people that I know who never intermingle with each other. When the stories start going there may be some family and friends who may disagree with said story and the sparks could fly. Hot damn, that is when it will really get interesting!!!!... Be truthful. You all know I hate phoniness and arrogance. If there is someone in the room that I did not like--- someone, perhaps, trying to shed some guilt on how they treated me when I was alive-- please have them escorted out. And, when they are outside give them a swift kick in the balls for me also. I want this affair light-hearted and sweet. I want loud laughter of my past follies... There should be tears, too, but, please, keep them at a minimum. Crying is laughter turned upside down. If there is no crying at times than I have not done my job as a full human being. Tears are anger and sadness, but, they are also another expression of love-- through the filter of sadness. Cry from the heart for me. I will feel it wherever I am at, and, somehow, I will respond back to you with love...One last thing you have to promise me. At the end, when people are filled with that love, you must take that spirit in the room with you back to your regular lives. I know you will, but, humor me here. It is all that I request of you. Make sense of my life and learn from my mistakes. Take my good points and expand on them in my memory. I can think of no higher tribute to me than that. You are the people I love and care about. I have many faults, but, choosing fine people close to me is perhaps my strongest asset. I am proud that all of you have brightened my life. ... As I said at the beginning, I am not going anywhere soon, at least to my knowledge. When I do die I am sure I will be the first to know about it. I am just giving you all an invitation ahead of time to come by. Smile and laugh for me. Wherever I will be I will be smiling back at you. I will even try to stop by and say hello in some form, in my own fashion. This will be my last party on this side... And, when we are all together on the next side... Hold on, Heaven!! The Scoleri crowd is here!!!!!

The Hollywood Spin

As I write this the cause of  death of Whitney Houston has not been determined. There are rumors and stories on how she was found. In the days ahead the complete story will emerge. And, like most people I assume drugs will play a role in her death.... Face it: we all thought the same thing when we heard of her death. Her history of drug abuse. Her bizarre behavior in concerts and interviews. If it turns out that drugs were not responsible for her death, then, that will be the real shock. The connection between a performer dying suddenly and the public's assumption of the cause of death always leads back down the road of self-destruction... Now, I was never a fan of Ms. Houston. I thought she had a very nice voice, and, a couple of her songs I thought were good. All I know of her story comes from the media, which is a dangerous way to know someone, what with rumors and innuendo running amok. The abusive and dangerous marriage of her and Bobby Brown was well documented and played out in the public eye. What happened there, behind closed doors, is no one's business, but, the misguided couple seemed to be more than willing to parade it in front of us. Maybe some were interested. Perhaps it was the people who religiously follow the vile gossip mills like ''Entertainment Tonight', the ''E'' channel, and, the trashy magazines on the supermarket checkout line. Whatever. To Each His Own. However, when you live your life like an open book I am going to rip out a few pages when necessary... Let me begin with her drug problem. It is an old story in Hollywood when someone has an addiction. Publicly, it starts with the hiding of the abuser's behavior. That is what PR people are for in Hollywood. There was a time when PR people were needed to plant someone's name in the paper to generate interest in the star. Now, the job is to keep the star's behavior out of the press. When that fails, the spin starts. We begin to hear of bizarre behavior being described as ''exhaustion''. Meaning, the poor star is working so hard for you, the adoring public, that this minor blip on the radar, therefore, is explainable. It is bullshit, of course. But, it shows the Hollywood spin. Next, when the star has been exposed publicly and even the most ardent fan knows there is a problem, then comes the rehab. Now, you would think if the star has people around them that truly care for their welfare, then they would send the star as far away from the greed and lust of Hollywood and to get them clean, away from the temptations that abound. But, no. They go to fashionable rehab places for their drive-by therapy. It isn't really helping them so much as helping them maintain a career for the star. It becomes trendy for a performer to be there. Rehab chic. And, after a grueling three weeks, the patient is discharged and all is well. It isn't... The rate for the non-famous to fall back into old habits is very high. The famous have a higher rate of imbibing again. All of this leads back to Whitney Houston. She went through the same cycle above and never succeeded. Now, part of that has to do with her genetic makeup. Certain people are born with the gene of addiction. Clearly, she was. The other part is the enabling of these stars. The people around them, whether they be agents, managers, music people, or, the standard groupies who sponge off their fame. Every successful star has this whether they want it or not. It is the ugly by-product of fame. Some survive and see the nonsense. Some do not. Apparently, Whitney Houston never saw through it, or, if she did, she was helpless to save herself. The history of Hollywood and show business is littered with people like her. Vulnerable people who have been given a rare talent and then, are exploited by the movers and shakers and the scum of the industry. And, they fall... Ask yourself this: if you had someone close to you achieve fame, and, they were not handling it well, would you do anything you could to stop them from destroying themselves? Would you stand by while they are slowly coming undone and fading away before your eyes? Of course, you would not. You would do what I would do: the hell with your career, I'm trying to save your life. You would not have to even think about that. And, that is where the parasites that make up show business differ from us. They go through the motions of caring, but, they do not. In the days and weeks ahead you will hear testimonials from all of her family and friends on how special she was , and, despite their best efforts, she slipped threw their fingers. No one could stop her... Yes, they could have stopped her. Just like the ''caring'' people around Elvis and Michael Jackson could have saved them, but, didn't... A few months before he was shot, John Lennon gave an interview with ''Newsweek'' magazine. In the interview he was asked how The Beatles split up. John said that he was used to a situation where all of his needs were being taken care of. He was overfed, over drugged, over indulged in every way. John continued by saying he had to get out of it because he was being slowly killed by his living that way. He compared it to a King being killed by his courtiers. And, he had to walk away from that life or he would be destroyed... Whitney Houston did not go in that direction. She was killed by her vices, to be sure. But, she was also killed by the show business life. She had her courtiers around her that really did not give a damn. She suffered the tragedy of dying from inattention. I will leave it up to you if she deserves your sympathy. She has mine, to some degree. As did Elvis, Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, John Belushi, Michael Jackson, etc..... And, maybe soon, Demi Moore, Lindsay Lohan, Charlie Sheen, and, some unknown future star....

Three Stories About My Dad

The woman was trying to express her thoughts, but, the words were not there. That happens sometimes in life. I listened politely because she was saying nice things and she had taken the time to call me, because it was important to her that I hear the words. She was talking about my Dad. It was a few months after his death in March, 1996. They had worked together. It was my Dad's last job before retirement. By then, Dad was just biding his time until he reached 62. He worked around a lot of younger people, and, being his age, he became a Father Figure to them. It was a role he played most of his life. Dad was the type of person whom you told your life story to. He listened well, and, when asked, gave his advice on what to do. It was always solid and sensible advice. This woman on the phone[ and, please forgive me, but, I do not remember her name] had just heard that my Dad had died a few months earlier. They had not really kept in contact after he retired, but, when she heard of his death, she had to call the family. I took the call and right away she started by apologizing for any disturbance she may be causing me by bringing up his recent passing. She just wanted to tell me how much she valued him as a friend and their time together. She was newly married when they worked together and was unsure about whether she married the right man. She had questioned whether the marriage was going to work and whether there was going to be a lifetime of happiness like my Mom and Dad had. She told me that my Dad was very understanding and encouraging to her. He cautioned against jumping the gun too quickly and pulling the plug on her marriage. Dad was a romantic. He wanted people to be in love and to stay together. So, he advised total communication and honesty. Never go to bed mad at each other. Do not run away from a problem. Confront the problem and solve it, however painful it may be. And, because of his way of talking-- from his good, sweet heart-- she was convinced to give her new husband more time. When I spoke with her, not only was she still married, but, had two small children. On the phone that day, she wanted me to know what a difference he made in her life and how forever grateful she was that she listened to him. Without his talking to her, she said, most likely, she would not have her children. And, then, she started to cry. She said that when she heard that he had died she felt like her own father had died. Naturally, I started to cry, too. We were two strangers on the phone crying together, linked together by my father. He would have cried with us.... In the summer of 1991, while I was still trying to get something going in acting, I got a call one day from the casting agency where I was registered . They asked me if I would be an extra in a new Spike Lee Nike commercial. I was doing a lot of extra work then, so, I took the job. Well, my Dad called the agency and asked if they needed anyone else for the commercial. They said yes, and, I had a partner that day to work with. The commercial was shot at the old Chicago Stadium. Maybe, you remember the commercial. It was after the Bulls had won their first title. The Nike commercial slogan was, ''It's Gotta Be The Shoes!'' Dad and I drove down there together. Naturally, there was laughs in the car ride. Dad was always fun to drive with. His comments were always worthy of a stand-up comic. We got to the Stadium and sat with 400 of our new friends. And, true to form, almost immediately, Dad started making friends with everyone. He loved to meet and talk to new people. The young guys thought he was super cool, the women wanted to hug and kiss him. If there was a star in the crowd that day, it wasn't Spike Lee. It was James Martin Scoleri. It was a simple and fast shoot. Spike Lee came out and had us cheer on cue. Then, he took his spot in the crowd and jumped up. The crowd was told to jump up after him, which we did. I jumped to me feet, and at the same time, I looked over at Dad on my right. He was waving and smiling and was genuinely excited to be in the commercial.This was his first and only brush with show-business and he seemed to be having the time of his life. The shoot went quickly and we were soon on our way home. The reason this incident has stayed in my memory is that not long after Dad developed his cancer. He was never really the same after that. The infectious joy that was in his soul left his body and he was shattered. That summer day in 1991 was the last time he was truly himself. Now, I think of his beautiful smile that day and I smile... Over this past weekend, my good friend James lost his father. His Dad was a lot like my Dad. Even in appearance. I went to the wake and paid my respects. My buddy Mike, also a childhood friend of mine like James, was telling his girlfriend a story about my Dad that I had not thought of in years. When we were in 8th grade and made our Confirmation, there was a bunch of practice drills we did in the days preceding the ceremony. One long Saturday afternoon, we were all stuck in church and we were all starving. Sure enough, my Dad, our hero,  came to our rescue. In the back few pews, while the priests were giving the blessing, my Dad brought all of us Oreo cookies to eat. We were overjoyed!!! So, while the loyal flock were taking communion, we were eating cookies. Dad smiled that beautiful smile of his and then he was gone. To this day, it remains a treasured story to my friend Mike. Nothing radical, but, just a sweet gesture for his son and his son's friends. When Brother Mike told the story the other night, he concluded it by saying, ''Jim's Dad was the best!!!'' Yes, he was Michael. Yes, he was... These short stories somehow have a connecting tissue to them. They are only small little nuggets of a much larger portrait that was my Dad. They show you a little of his gentle soul. Hopefully, you also have a father like this that you can tie similar stories to. I am telling these now because March is coming up in a few weeks and it is the anniversary of his passing again. Not a day goes by that my Dad is not in my thoughts and in my heart. I am biased, I know. I am entitled to be. He was the Greatest Man I Ever Have Known. I miss him. I miss his goodness. I miss his love for my Mom and for us kids. I miss his love for his friends and people he cared about. I miss his advice, for no man ever gave out better advice than my Dad-- as that woman on the phone also knew. The world also misses him. He had a spirit and love that the world needs more of.... And, I miss that smile that I saw that day at the Stadium. It was the smile of an angel.... I am sure he is smiling now....