Its A Quarter To Three.....

The young guy bellied up to the bar and immediately ordered a straight shot of scotch. Now, scotch and me have never been friends. And, being the experienced drinker that I am all of these years, when a young guy---he had to be around 25--- orders such a shot before he gets some beer in him first, the juicers at the bar watch him closely. Clearly, this was someone who was drinking away some personal demon that was haunting him at this moment. The youngster took the shot [without chasing it with a beer, a cardinal sin, and, a sign of inexperience] threw his head back, closed his eyes [another red flag, there] and moped onto the bar stool....... The wise men at the bar let him sit there without paying much attention. So did the gal pal I was with. But, me, being me, sometimes does not know when to leave well enough alone. I asked him what his trouble was. He looked over at me with pained eyes, fairly red [not do to the shot but crying] and stated that he had just broken up with his girlfriend and he did not know if he wanted to go on living......Well, now, we had the standard, stereotypical bar patron. The guy that has been done wrong by love. It is in every bar in the world and has been glorified by the big silver screen in Hollywood. Love gone bad. And, alcohol to soothe the hurt of the broken hearted. Bogart famously sat at his gin joint in ''Casablanca'', wondering how of all the places to imbibe in the world, his lost love found her way back into his world and his heart. It is an unanswerable question--- maybe, in Hollywood they know--- but, in the real world we are stumped. Millions of people throughout history have swung open the doors to the nearest saloon and demanded a drink to be their tonic. I have done it. Perhaps, you have also...... Sometimes, it is good to be with a friend or group of friends when your heart is hanging low. They will listen to your story, and, if they are good enough friends, they will try to cheer you up. But, what they must never do is take sides in the quarrel!!! This is, as the Italians say, an ''infamita'', or, forbidden. Because, what if the desolate, after berating his or her love, decides to leave the bar and make up with the other person? You, as the alcohol sounding board who agreed with every point your lovesick friend made, now has egg on your face. You never take sides in a fight, even when you know which is the right side to take. Your words can be thrown back in your face. Demon booze can always loosen the tongue for a liquid confession, but, it can also say the harsh truth. And, most people do not want to hear the harsh truth. They want their truth spun to their convenience. Be supportive of your friend. However, watch out for the landmine that may be in front of you......Or, you can go to a bar by yourself, as the young man above did. This does not sound as pathetic as it does. A bar is one of the few places where you can walk in alone and not feel uncomfortable. Because you are alone with your own thoughts, taking stock of your relationship. If you are honest with yourself, then you admit things privately that you would never share publicly...... Two things go hand and hand when you find yourself feeling low. They are the booze, of course, and music. Lets start with the music. It must fit your mood. You are feeling the worst, self-pity mixed with your faults and insecurity So, therefore, the music must be your companion on the trip of sadness. Do not play a loud, happy song!!! What the fuck is wrong with you if you do that?!!!! A happy song will put you in a happy mood. You must never fall for this speedtrap!!! You are morose, let the tunes be morose also. The one and only King Of The Saloon Song, Francis Albert Sinatra, is the man you must instantly play. Frank made a career out of love found or lost. He battled the forces of love throughout his roller coaster of a life. You will need no other guide. He is the Padrone. He will cry out your pain for you. Play his music into the wee small hours of the morning. With each selection, Frank will get more intimate. Let this famously strong, virile man weep with you. And, always listen to the advice he is giving you....... With the music comes the booze. This is the tricky part of the evening. Why? Well, you have to walk that tightrope between drinking to feel good and drinking to stay in your cups. If you are doing the former, pay your tab and leave. You are taking up valuable space for a real sad-sack with a crippling love life. You are posing!!! Get the fuck out of my bar!!!........ But, if you choose the latter, to drink to elongate the sadness, then the booze choice is so crucial. Stay away from sweet drinks [a real bar and bartender doesn't like to serve sweet drinks. It is a pain in the ass to make those fruity drinks. Bartenders only make them because they are more expensive and it increases your tab and their tip. Or, they may make them because you have nice tits.  Drink what is in the bottles in front of you or in the keg]. Also, don't drink from the keg. A draft beer? Please!!! Grab a bottle of the suds so you can peel the label off the bottle while your are mumbling to yourself. Then, and only then, do you order a shot. And, it must be a real shot. Not something that sounds like a sexual act. Can you imagine Sinatra strolling in a bar at a quarter to three and ordering ''Sex On The Beach?'' Or, a Jello shot? No, you order something strong and bitter tasting. You are punishing yourself in one way, so, go for the jugular. Have the scotch, or the bourbon, or the brandy, or the whiskey. Cognac is acceptable, but, it must be in a snifter. Also, do not immediately overdrink and get drunk quickly. This is for losers. Drinking is a serious thing, not be be disrespected by some pussy chugging everything in sight and then ralphing it up at the bar. I have been at bars when guys cough it up. I don't wanna see that. Especially, since I will have my own bile to shoot out in a few hours...... The hours will disappear soon enough. You have your booze and you have your music. You could order food--- it would be the smart thing to soak up the alcohol--- but, food may make you happy. If you order food, don't order what you like. Order something that you know sounds revolting, like Blood Pudding or Calf's Liver. And, if those two items are on the menu at a bar, get out of that bar!!!What kind of place serves that shit?....... As your inhibitions melt with the soothing feel of real alcohol surging through your system, you might want to put your toe in the water and talk to someone around you. But, don't spill everything out. You will scare the person next to you and scaring drunks in a bar is a one way ticket to destruction. If the person next to you is a friendly sort, start rapping. Bar friends come easy. However, be prepared to hear THEIR sob story when you pause and take a sip of your drink. Then, you will feel even worse because you really don't care what is eating at them. You have your own problems!!!...... It goes without saying that when the place looks like it is going to close soon, say, in twenty minutes, you pay up and leave. There is no worse feeling to be sitting in a bar when the lights come up. Christ, you think, I'm still here!!! And, now you have to get home!!! Of course, you do not drive. Either walk or call a cab. [ One bar guy I used to know would call the police to drive him home, like he was Otis on the ''Andy Griffith Show''] Hopefully, when you leave, you will feel it was worth it being there....... The next morning, when you wake up feeling like death warmed over, make sure you have your work number by your bed. And, you are sick. You have all of the symptoms of the ''flu''...... These are just some of the things you may do when love kicks you in the ass. Or, you might just stay home and cry and then call the person to try to work it out...... When the 25 year old guy finished telling me his story, which, if you change the names, is the story we all have, I just asked him a few things. I asked him if she loves him? He said, yes, she does. Then, I asked the most important question: does he love her? Tears came into his eyes again, and, he answered that he could not imagine living life without her by his side. ''There'', I said, ''You have your problem solved. When real love is involved, there is no other answer. Go find her and work it out.'' He looked up at me and smiled. ''I will'', he replied....... I bought him one last shot and he was out the door......

19 Years

19 years. It still stuns me that it has been this long. Time does march on. There was a time, right after he died, that I thought the horror of gloom would never go away....... My brother, Tommy, died on September 22, 1995. The official cause of death was a suicide. That is what the police said to me on that long-ago phone call in the middle of the night. He jumped from a twenty-eight story building. It was his girlfriend's condo. Weeks after the event, my Dad talked to the girlfriend on the phone. She confirmed that he willingly jumped to his death. But, a few days after this conversation, the family received the police report. From what it said, Tommy accidently fell from the balcony when the police made a quick lunge towards him in an effort to pull him into the condo. So, we had two stories on how it ended. But, the outcome was the same. My brother was gone....... Out of respect to my family I will not tell what happened. Some things will stay internal. The people closest to me know the whole story. Obviously, it is not an easy story for me to repeat. Not because of shame. The story of his demise I keep at a distance, because, it is so close...... Thomas Forrest Scoleri would be 52 years old right now. His death at 33 forever locks him in time as someone young. When I look back on his life, there were signs to him that he was not to have old bones. He lived for the moment, as spontaneously as a person could. Both my brother and myself share the title of ''free spirits''. That generally means we cannot [and, will not] be put into any kind of pigeon hole of description. If one must be assigned to us, it is that we float with the currents of independence and inspiration. We live for the current idea or mood, not really concerned about what will be ahead. We say what is on our minds and damn the consequences. All ''free spirits'' are not bound by normal behavior of the brain, but, rather, the streams of feelings from the heart and soul. I have it. And, Tommy had it. In a macabre way, his death, while tragic, was appropriate for his life. He lived life with a big bang. And, his death was just as loud........ Tommy filled a room. He was over six foot tall, unusual for an Italian male. He was good-looking. My Mom always said that he looked like the actor Robert Urich. True. Tommy was classically handsome in a movie-star way. Beautiful hair and glowing teeth. He had an Roman emperor look that turned many a ladies head. And, he indulged his gift with many women. Tommy could work a room, whether he was seeking a female or to entertain with his charm. He also had a great natural ability to play any sport well. This was his true love in life, especially, baseball. Tommy was a damn fine player, with the sweetest swing imaginable. This was his life's dream, to play ball in the majors. He once was scouted by the California Angels baseball team. I remember he came home that night so excited that here was his dream coming true. Sadly, he never heard further from them. Or, anyone else. He would go through his short life always hoping for that phone call to come. It never did....... I have written before in other blogs about the difficult relationship I had with him. And, it was difficult. Painfully so. I never did find out what the source of his animosity towards me was. It went beyond sibling rivalry into a frosty dislike of each other. He had it out for me as long as I can remember. There were times growing up when I was genuinely afraid of him. We fought--- well, him being stronger and bigger and older, made it not much of a fight---- every once in a while. When we were kids, he sure as hell never wanted me around. I was a punching bag to him, both verbally and physically. As I got older and was able to hold my own with him, the fights stopped, but, the tension was always there. Occasionally, we would share a laugh or a good moment. But, the truce would be short-lived. The war would start up again very quickly........ Looking back at those times with the brilliance of hindsight, I see where the cracks were in my brother. He was quite hot-tempered, which led to errors of judgment. Him, on that balcony at the end, was a hot-tempered moment. Hand and hand with that temper came the internal self-hatred at not being a professional baseball player. Tommy was one of those guys that was the star in high school, but, once he left school and the cheers for him stopped--- when he went into the cold world that doesn't give a damn about a high school hero---resentment and depression seeped into his soul and poisoned his character. He became darker in spirit. Not just with me but the whole family, except our Mom. Mom and Tommy always had that special relationship. She was his anchor, his protector and defender against his actions. But, however much love Tommy was given at home, it never soothed his troubled soul. Because we were never close, I did not have the opportunity to share his confidences and his moods. Well, I did experience the moods, but, they were always dark towards me. I can only speculate this, but, I am fairly strong in my conviction that his depression at not achieving in life grew more pronounced as the years went by...... To fixate on his depression and darkness does not do complete justice to the man. Make no mistake about him: he was a damn fun guy to be around!!! He had miles of friends and many admirers. He lived life at full-throttle, never pausing to slow down. Live fast and leave a good looking corpse. You wanted him at your parties. And, you wanted him to be there for you in desperate times when no one else would. He would be there for you. That was a hallmark trait my sister, Lisa, Tommy, and I got from our parents: BE THERE FOR THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE. Tommy was. You could call him in the middle of the night to bail you out, and, he would be there. You also wanted him on your side if a fight was near. Strong son of a bitch, he was!!! For those reading this that did not know him, trust me, you would have liked him........ And, I did like him. And, I did love him. Although we had our moments, I never stopped looking up to the guy. He was my older brother, someone, I knew who would always have my back. I suppose I always thought, as us kids got older and more mature, that things would settle down between us. There would be a truce. I looked forward to growing old with my brother by my side, almost like, two war buddies who fought battles with each other and found a peace pipe to smoke. I imagined us sitting around watching sports and eating and drinking and looking at the pretty women. We were so alike in so many ways. He had the strong sense of family that Lisa and I do. He would be the family ''Don'' and I would be his able ''Consigliori''. I know it would have happened. I had the dream of it happening. That dream died with a phone that September night........ So, now, he is eternally young. Frozen in time. In my minds eye, I see the handsome young brother that I once knew. He is smiling that beautiful smile as he is strolling to the plate of a baseball game in Heaven. It is a big moment in the game, naturally, because my brother was all about big moments. I see my parents off to the left in the stands, cheering him on, along with other family and friends who are also now eternal. Tommy spikes his cleats in the dirt and chokes up on the bat. A couple of practice swings and he is ready for the pitch. Here it comes!!! Fast ball, right down the middle. But, the ball will not reach the catcher's glove because Tommy swings and connects. The ball rises swiftly, almost effortlessly, towards the outfield. The left fielder races towards the wall. But, the fielder will run out of space. The ball, superbly hit, goes past the wall and keeps rising. It rises and rises and takes off into the distance, zigzagging across the sky. Tommy rounds the bases. When he reaches home plate, he tips his hat to the crowd. The crowd applauds him. And, Tommy, forever the free spirit, smiles back.......'' Dear Tommy. I love you, brother!!!! When I get up there, we will have our quick talk and smoke that peace pipe. And, then, MY BROTHER, I expect you to show me the fun sights in Heaven!!! We will rock it hard!!!...... Love, Jimmy''.........

Not A Man

So, now, the NFL is contrite about domestic violence. In the wake of the not-so-shocking revelations that some professional athletes have abused the women in their lives, now the media, the beloved media that swoops in like vultures smelling blood, is crying holy hell about this very real and dangerous issue. Apparently, the years of sweeping the evidence under the carpet about these so called ''men'' and their abuse because it made bad copy to report, is now front and center. And, the mega-powerful NFL, which also has its hands dirty in covering this up, now feels it must bow its head and do the public penance...... Ray Rice beat up his fiancée, at the time, in an elevator. This abuse happened last February. Which means, the NFL was aware of it last February. Nothing a professional athlete does in any sport is not unknown by the league the player is in. There are spies among the team that report to that team's owner and also to the honchos in charge. The media follows these most public of figures very closely. And, the fact we live in an age of instant contact thru the Internet and cell phone pictures, makes an athlete even more open to disclosure. The footage from that elevator scene is shocking. Rice beat up his fiancée, plain and simple. Now, right away, since it happened in a hotel elevator, the hotel knew instantly. She was battered in plain sight. There is the constant security monitoring of all spaces in a hotel, save the privacy of a room [which, there are stories about]........ Rice and his fiancée seem to make up very quickly from this exchange. In fact, the couple decides to forget the whole thing and get hitched soon after. No doubt this is because of finding ones ultimate love in life and forgiving the fact that your lover beat the shit out of you. My guess is the fiancée also remembered the large paycheck that is deposited every once in a while into the bank account. So, while rumors swirled for a few months, Ray Rice continued to live carefree of his actions...... Now, you have greed involved in the next part. Not a belief in punishing the abuser, but, plain old human greed. Someone, probably from the hotel, leaked the footage to TMZ, the vile entertainment watchdog. Harvey Levin, who runs this operation with all of the ethics of the Catholic Church, knows a juicy story when he slithers around in its muck. And, Rice, while not superstar level in terms of fame and ability, does play for America's favorite Sunday afternoon TV show, the NFL. Levin shows the video and outrage comes of it. Suddenly, this ''minor'' incident blows up in the face of the National Football League. Roger Goodall, the commissioner for the league, at first, denied any knowledge of the league hearing of the video. He was as shocked as everybody else, you see. Had he known earlier he would have taken appropriate action against Rice. But, the evidence of him knowing soon leaked out. The spies in the NFL knew. The lawyer for Rice also had a copy of the tape. For the NFL not to be aware of this footage, while TMZ was, is not believable. Clearly, they knew. But, they decided to take a page from Penn State and their horrible scandal a few years ago, and, sweep it under the rug...... No sooner than this sordid tale unspun then came another, equally shocking case of abuse. Adrian Peterson, one of the best players in the league, was suspended for child abuse. In Texas!!! At first, this ''man'' said he was giving his little boy a good old-fashioned spanking. With a small tree branch. Like the Rice case, the real story soon came out. He beat the little boy so severely that there was blood on the boy. Open wounds. And, today, a new revelation has come forward about Peterson saying he may have abused another child of his--- from a different mother---- by banging his head against a car. Peterson was suspended for a game and now is unsuspended, as I write this. My guess is he will get more suspensions, or, possibly, be thrown out of the league as the case moves forward......... Athletes beating up women is nothing new. And, we should not be shocked that higher authorities feign ignorance and cover it up when it is necessary for their own selfish interests. Politicians and actors do it. Alec Baldwin is famous for using his fists on women, including ex-wife, Kim Basinger. And, Baldwin is also famous for the audio a few years ago of his yelling profanities at his daughter on her cell phone. Verbal abuse. And, what is the result of his actions? Why he is allowed to ply his trade in show business. In fact, Alec Baldwin has never been in more demand for his services. A hit TV show, countless appearances on ''Saturday Night Live'', and movies all came after he started to abuse women years ago. When his producers and agents are asked about how they can employ such a brute, they call on the time-honored feeling of forgiveness and absolution. Everybody makes a mistake and must be forgiven....... Well, not in my book. I believe many people do deserve a second chance and repent for their sins. But, not all people. There are some crimes that never must be forgiven or forgotten. Abuse of women and children is front and center as examples. ''Men'' who hit the weaker opponent are the true bullies in life. My God, little kids are afraid of thunder and lightening, or, of monsters under the bed, or, of being left alone in the dark. They are the most vulnerable in the world. They trust and belief. They love unconditionally and they fear the unknown unconditionally. And, for someone like Adrian Peterson to take the anger issues he has out on a child is beyond repulsive. Abuse comes in different forms, physical and mental. The child's wounds will heal physically, but, will they fully heal mentally?........ I have known several women who have been abused, again, both physically and mentally. The scars recede rather quickly on the body, but, not in the mind and soul. The mind spins many dark thoughts to the victim. Many women and children come to believe that they deserved this abuse, in some way. Their mind tells them that it is all their fault. Or, it is the price they must pay for staying with the ''man''. In the mind of the abused is the very real voice of guilt: ''I must be a terrible person and deserve this'' is the unforgiving and cruel thought of some from their unconsciousness. It all has to do with low self-esteem, which the abuser is a master at driving home. Of course, the abuser, the ''man'', is really taking out their own self-hatred on someone else because they cannot stomach the fact that the real problem is them. So, the women and children become--- and  I don't say this to be glib--- the ''punching bag''. They beat and humiliate their victims. And, all the while, a sad seed is planted in the mind of the poor victim: ''It is my fault'...... Another major problem of domestic abuse is the seemingly automatic solution by many to seek ''counseling''. They get some charlatan, hiding behind a diploma, to tell them their problems and what a solution must be. Family therapy........ PEOPLE, IN ADDITION TO KNOWING MANY ABUSED WOMEN AND CHILDREN, I HAVE ALSO KNOWN THOSE PEOPLE THAT DEAL WITH THIS PROBLEM. THEY ARE THE DOMESTIC ABUSE EXPERTS WHO ARE THERE FOR THE VICTIMS. AND, THEY ARE OF THE UNIVERSAL, FIRM BELIEF THAT THE VERY LAST THING A FAMILY OR COUPLE SHOULD DO IS GO TO COUNSELING!!! THEY ADVISE IMMEDIATE WITHDRAWAL FROM THE ABUSIVE PARTY!!! GET AWAY!!!..... Sometimes, though, you cannot. A young child cannot run away. It is up to some adult to rescue the victim, either by taking away the child or reporting this son of a bitch to the proper authorities. And, the woman must be strong enough, despite her fear of the unknown, to walk away. This applies to all women, be they famously rich or barely scrapping by. The abuser only gets stronger by constant contact with the victims....... I write this, not only because of Rice and Peterson, but also, remembering a woman I knew years ago. She was a friend of a friend and lived with an alcoholic husband. He regularly beat her, sometimes when he had been drinking, sometimes, because he was stone sober and felt like it. A true monster this ''man''. Despite repeated efforts by those around her, the wife stayed with her husband, hoping to change him. But, the true story was that she was afraid to be by herself. It is understandable. She relied on him, regardless on how he so abused her. The beatings got more frequent. The police were called on occasion but they were powerless to do anything because she refused to press any charges. So she stayed......... One night, high on coke and booze, the husband beat her to death with his bare hands. No other way to term it. He killed her with his own two hands. Then, he put the end of a shotgun in his mouth and blew away the side of his head. When the police found the couple a few days later, they found a note from the husband. Hastily scribbled after he murdered his wife. The note said he could not take his life any more. It was a complete horror show. This, he blamed on his wife........

After Forty

Something happened after I turned forty. This age is a milestone age for any man. It is the age where you take stock of what you have done, and, what you haven't. Every man shudders with this age. But, forty never really bothered me. I have a strong sense of myself and what I can and can't do. It does not bother me that I am very unhandy. I know guys who spend weekends putting up drywall and adding rooms to their house. Not me. I live the old-fashioned way of lying on my couch and watching football games until the two or three naps I take seize me. No, being worthless with my hands feels just right in my psyche. And, the fact that I am not a rich man doesn't really shake me. I have never had a love affair with money. As long as I can pay my bills and have a little fun is all that I need to get along. I don't need fancy homes and sports cars because they seem a waste for me. Those are showboating toys to cover personal insecurities. No, I am happy with my dick size........ What happened to me when I turned forty was a complete physical change in my body. Suddenly, the healthy person I have always been turned and ran away and Mr. Unhealthy showed its evil self. It started with my blood pressure. Now, high blood pressure is something that runs in my family. Both my parents had it, along with both my grandfathers, whom I never knew because they died so young. So, the hypertension swimming around my body is nothing earth shattering. A couple of pills in the morning take care of this problem. But, when you have been blessed with good health up until this point, is a bummer to be brought down to reality. I never had any of the childhood diseases: mumps, measles, etc, all passed over me. Suddenly, something life-threatening was brought to me. It is under control and my pressure is fine. But, my first thought I had when the doctor told me I would be under medication [ by the way, I hadn't seen a doctor in twenty years. I was healthy!] was, ''Oh, boy, there are a lot of things I can't do now like I used to.'' Damn....... The next thing that reared its ugly head was my hair. I started getting gray hair in my twenties, but, it was a sprinkling amongst my thick brown, curly hair. I had a lot of hair my whole life. As anyone who has curly hair can tell you, you can't grow it long. It grows up into an Afro. But, me, being me, had to be different. I wasn't able to grow a traditional Afro. No, my hair growth was uneven. It went into different areas when long. I looked like Peter Brady on acid. A favorite trick when I was a kid was hiding pencils and various other small objects under my curls and see if people could spot them. Most times, people couldn't. Jimmy Hoffa could have been buried there and no one would have been the wiser. As an adult, however, with hairstyles changing, I cut the big rock candy mountain of bristle, and had a sensible haircut. But, in my thirties, the brown turned to gray. There were many horrible things going on around me during my twenties and thirties, so, I figured the gray was a byproduct of all of the stress and sadness in my life. By forty, this once brown-haired guy could have done a commercial for hair-dye. I have no problem with gray hair. I like to tell people that I earned every one of them. However, the true mortal enemy of every guy also showed up with the gray. It was hair loss. While hair sprouted from my ears, nose, and toes, it took a most unwelcome retreat from my head. Every morning in the shower these hairs would go down the drain, never to reappear. I wept openly during these moments. I still have a good chunk of my hair covering about eighty percent of my noggin, but, it is not the same. I hope I won't be one of these goofy looking bald guys. You know, the guys who have the Neil Diamond swirl of hair that they flop over to the other side of the head. Thankfully, toupees seem to be going away as guys shave their heads, which I think is a good idea. I don't know how I would look with a shaved head if it came to that. Probably, like a bald Iranian lesbian woman...... Forty also saw the explosion of my stomach muscles. I have never had a washboard stomach or been fat-free. Who wants that? I always liked having a little spare tire around my waist. I called it ''Fun Fat''. And, it was. A lot of fun went into that fat. In my twenties and thirties, my fighting weight was around 185 pounds. Some years I was heavier, some I was lighter. Then, after forty, the fat took flight and migrated into other sections of my physical form. Instead of a little spare tire, now I had an SUV around my torso. My gut hung over my waist, and there were days when it was difficult to see my genitals. In the past, I have always ridden my stationary bike to keep some kind shape. Now, after forty, it wasn't doing the job. Even my yearly sit-up---- so beloved by the public--- failed in its attempts in the Scoleri War Against Fat. Now, I have a nice little volleyball of fat that greets me everyday. There is an obvious solution to this, of course. I could start eating healthier. Well, I do. I eat my fish and vegetables and chicken. I stay away from the glorious fast-foods that I love dearly. I am not an eating animal. However, it seems to be a losing battle. I will still fight this battle but I fear the ultimate sacrifice is coming up fast on the horizon. Yes,''diet''. This word has always chilled me to the bone. This word and concept must have its origins with the Devil himself. Soon, I may have to make a pact with Satan......... After forty came the sinus problems. Suddenly, I had allergies to contend with. Where the fuck did this come from? My doctor, who I think cares about me as much as an IRS investigator does, told me that my body is changing. I said, yeah, not for the better, Sawbones!! Apparently, I have post-nasal drip. I never knew I had pre-nasal drip. Without getting gross, I have a little hole in my sinus that drips mucus. Nice. It drips in my throat and tingles some part there. That is why I am, at times, coughing or clearing my throat. To clear this mess. Mucus!!! I used to have steak going down my gullet, now I have my sinuses throwing up down my throat!!! Doctor Compassion tells me that it is the age process again. No shit, Sherlock. Go play with your fuckin HMO'S........ Arthritis in my legs. Yep, got that too. My should hurts at times. I even am sore when I wake up in the morning. I'm lying there for hours not bothering anyone and my body still kicks my ass!!!...... This is nothing new for any of us. We have turned into our parents in every way. Even, health-wise. I am proud to be like my parents but not when it comes to health issues. But, what can you do? It catches up with us. The key, which I practiced for many years, is to give your body a good-ole boy time before age comes at you. My body is hurting now, but, it was rockin-and-rollin when I was a younger man. When I think back on some of the best times of my life, none of them have been for my own good health........ I would write more now, but, I haven't peed in an hour and my bladder is calling me........

Blood In The Hills Part 2

10050 Cielo Dr was a secluded house. It is at the end of a long and winding road that ends in a dead end. The grounds of the property are perfect for any couple wanting a ''love nest''. There is a protective gate at the entrance. A simple push of the remote control button next to it allows the visitor to drive up a fair-sized driveway. At the end of this driveway is the main residence. It is mostly a ranch style home, but, does boast a spiral staircase when you are in the residence. These stairs take you up to the attic. So, most of the house is one level. There is a main door, along with a side entrance. Twenty yards behind the main house is a guesthouse. This small shack is little more than a walk in closet. But, it does do the job of lodging a single visitor comfortably. Behind the guesthouse is a breathtaking view of Los Angeles. The hills swoops out to a steep drop. Perhaps, the main attraction to this property, aside from its nice layout, is the feeling of privacy. When you are in the house, you feel safe and secluded, as if the outside world cannot intrude......... Around 9pm, Sharon Tate and her friends, Jay Sebring, Wojciech Frykowski, and Abigail Folger, decide to get something to eat. They drove a short distance to a favorite Mexican restaurant, El Coyote, where Sharon is well-known. The group grabs a table in the corner and are soon enjoying the fine Mexican food. Witnesses later reported that the party did seem happy that night, enjoying a Friday Night outing like many in the city. Around 10;30, the group finished their dinner and headed back to Cielo......... Somewhere, in the city, Charles Manson's minions were zooming towards the destination that Charlie had picked out for them. There was much excited chatter in the car about what might happen. Above all, the occupants in the car had one common goal: to fulfill Charles Manson's prophecy of ''Helter Skelter''........ At 11pm, Sharon Tate and her friends were back safely at home. Jay Sebring had a private conversation to share with Sharon, so, the two of them settled in Sharon's bedroom. Sharon was lying on the bed, clad in her bra and panties because of the heat. Jay was sitting at the foot of the bed. Meanwhile, Frykowski had stretched out on a couch in the living room, while Folger went to read in her bed.........Around 11:30pm, a car approached the front gate. The driver of the car was Steven Parent, age 18. He had come to see the caretaker of the residence, William Garrettson, who was staying in the guesthouse behind the main house. Garrettson had met Parent the previous night at a party. They both discovered that they shared a love of stereos. Garrettson told Parent that he should come up to the residence and take a look at a clock radio that Garrettson was ready to sell. So, with nothing to do on a Friday Night, Steven Parent drove up to Cielo to talk to the caretaker. He was unknown to everyone in the main residence. Had fate been different, he would have stayed unknown....... Midnight. August 9, 1969. The property was quiet. Most of the neighborhood was in bed. It was families that surrounded the area, not the fast-moving Hollywood crowd that Roman and Sharon were used to. One thing about the area: It was strange for its acoustics. Some sounds fifty feet away might not be heard at the shortest distance, but, might be heard hundreds of feet away by someone. The air was hot that night, still simmering from the heat wave. Many neighbors slept with the windows open........ Shortly after midnight, another car approached the gate. It turned off its lights and parked to the side. Its occupants got out of the car. Charles ''Tex'' Watson climbed the gate at the entrance. He cut the phone wires. Then, he slowly opened the gate to let the others in. The group was armed with several knives and a gun and a rope. Soon, the Manson Family was quietly walking up the driveway towards the main residence...... At about this time, a car came from the backway. Steven Parent had just finished talking to William Garrettson about the radio. Steven had decided to not buy the radio and made a quick exit out of the guesthouse. When Parent was driving towards the gate, he was stopped by one man and three girls blocking his way out. Curious, most likely, he rolled down his window to ask what was wrong. At that moment, ''Tex'' Watson placed a gun next to his head. Not knowing what was going on, Steven Parent, nonetheless, started pleading, ''Don't hurt me! I won't say a thing!'' Watson then tried to stab him with a butcher knife. Parent, out of reflex, held up his arm defensively, and, the knife slashed his wristwatch. Watson then fired two quick shots into the head of Steven Parent, killing him....... All of this happened in mere seconds. And, no one in the house heard a thing....... ''Tex'' decided to not go in the main door, thinking it was locked. Therefore, he decided to climb in a side window. He cut the screen and climbed into the house. He walked around to the front door and let Susan Atkins and Patricia Krenwinkel in. Linda Kasabian stayed outside. She had developed a phobia about going in and wanted nothing to do with what was gonna happen........ ''Tex'' Watkins approached a man lying on the couch, who was dozing. He kicked the couch and awoke the man. When Wojciech Frykowski came to consciousness, he was told by this stranger, ''I am the Devil and I am here to do the Devil's work!'' While Frykowski was trying to figure out what was happening, Krenwinkel and Atkins went around the house looking for other people. Krenwinkel found Abigail Folger lying on her bed reading. Folger saw this visitor and smiled a friendly smile. Soon, the smile turned into fear as she was led knifepoint into the living room. Susan Atkins found Sharon and Jay in the other bedroom and ordered them at knifepoint to the living room also........ At first, there was more confusion from the residents than actual fear. They must have assumed that they were about to be robbed. They soon found out otherwise. Watson ordered Tate, Sebring, Frykowski, and Folger onto their knees. The girls were loosely tied up with the rope, along with Frykowski. When Sharon was ordered to lie on the ground, Jay Sebring protested that she could not do so because she was heavily pregnant. When Watson made a move towards Sharon, Sebring stepped in the way to protect her. It would be his last act of love for Sharon because he was immediately shot by Watson in the chest. Sebring went down as Sharon and Abigail started screaming........ Pandemonium....... As the women screamed, somehow, Frykowski freed himself from the rope and ran outside screaming for help. He was quickly followed by ''Tex'', who shot him twice. Frykowski fell to the grass on the lawn, right in front of Linda Kasabian, and kept crawling. Watson then took his butcher knife and proceeded to stab Frykowski dozens of times. Police later stated that Wojciech fought hard for his life as he tried to defend himself against the stabbings. Finally, the life went out of him and he laid still. All told, his wounds numbered: stabbed 51 times, bludgeoned in the head 13 times  [most likely, with the head of the gun] and he was shot twice. Rarely had such savagery been inflicted on a human being...... In the house, Abigail Folger also freed herself from the rope. She ran for her life out the side door of the house, pursued by Patricia Krenwinkel. Running past the pool---- which, was near the guesthouse--- she finally got caught by Krenwinkel under a tree. She then was viciously stabbed. At some point, Linda Kasabian, who also witnessed this slaughter, heard Abigail ask her killer, ''Why are you stabbing me? I'm already dead!!'' Soon, she would be. Police would count her stab wounds as being 28 inflicted. She had been wearing a white nightgown to bed. Now, it looked like the nightgown had been dyed red in blood........ Meanwhile, in the guesthouse, William Garrettson heard nothing, he was later to tell the police. He was playing his music very loud and heard no screaming or any other disturbance. This seems odd. If the music was blasting, as Garrettson claimed, surely, the murderers would have heard it and investigated it. In fact, Krenwinkel was ordered by Watson to check out the guesthouse but she only got to the front door of the guesthouse before she turned around and went back to report no one was there. William Garrettson was lucky. Had she gone in, he would have been another casualty......... Sharon Tate was the only one left alive. ''Tex'' Watson, Susan Atkins, and Patricia Krenwinkel were around here. Linda Kasabian had retreated towards the car waiting for the others. Sharon started crying and begging for her life. And, she begged for the life of her unborn child. She asked them not to kill her and to take her hostage instead. Susan Atkins looked her right in the eye and said, ''Look, bitch, I don't care about you or your baby at all. You are going to die''........... Then, Sharon was held down by the others as Susan stabbed her repeatedly. Soon, the others would stab her. Sharon screamed in agony until she could scream no more. Her last word was, ''Mother''......... The murder of Sharon Tate did not involve her having her baby being cut out, or, her breasts being amputated, as rumors have stated. She was lying in the fetal position, protecting her baby until the end. The baby, a boy, did not survive........ All of this had happened inside of a half-hour. The killings had gone smoothly, the killers thought. But, on the way out of the Tate house, they thought of what Charlie said about leaving a message to the world. Susan Atkins went back into the house and found a towel. She dipped the towel into the bloody body of Sharon Tate and took it towards the front door. In Sharon's blood, she smeared the word ''PIG''....... The killers left the property and drove back to Spahn Ranch and Charles Manson. When Charlie saw them arrive, he asked them why they were back so early. Then he asked each of them how they felt about the murders. Each one, except Kasabian, said they felt ok about it. There was no remorse in them....... The next day, the bodies at the house of Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate were found by the housekeeper. The police were called, and, searching the property, they came across the caretaker, William Garrettson. He was handcuffed and brought in for questioning. He told the police that he heard nothing. He played some loud music and went to bed. The police were skeptical about this alibi. How could he have not heard anything? Neighbors down the canyon---- but, not next door because of the bizarre acoustics in the area---- had heard sounds of screaming and gunshots. How could Garrettson not hear anything? William Garrettson stuck to his story and the police, since they had no evidence to charge him with anything, released him. It wasn't until thirty years later, in a television show about the murders, that Garrettson changed his story. He admitted in 1999 that he had heard screaming and carrying on. But, he chalked it up to the party frolics of those in the main house. He thought nothing but fun was coming from within less than a hundred feet from him. This new story was also thought of with skepticism. Still, he was not involved with the actual murders. He must have been in fear of his life, which is understandable. He was probably hiding until the coast was clear. Again, this is understandable but, if he had made some kind of move to help, he might have saved one or more lives in the main house........ The following night, August 10, 1969, the killers would go out again. This time it was a couple named LaBianca. I have written about this night in a March, 2012 blog called, ''Giving Out Justice''......... In time, the murders would be solved. Susan Atkins was arrested on another charge of disturbing the peace, and, in prison, she would tell fellow inmates about the Sharon Tate murders. The inmates told the police about what Susan said, and, soon, Charles Manson and his ''Family'' would be arrested and tried for murder. Linda Kasabian, who did not murder at all in any of the killings, was the star witness for the prosecution. The whole theory about ''Helter Skelter'' and the coming race war was spelled out to the jury in the trial by the brilliant prosecutor against the Manson Family, Vincent Bugliosi. In the nine month trial, all the world got to see the bizarre and frightening story of these hippies who dabbled in murder. The killers, Charles, ''Tex'' Watson, Suasn Atkins, Patricia Krenwinkel, and Leslie Van Houton --- who had helped murder the LaBiancas the following night----- were all found guilty and sentenced to death in early 1971, along with Charles Manson. The following year, the State Of California overturned the death penalty and all of the killers, and their guru, Charles Manson, were given life sentences. Susan Atkins would die of cancer in 2009 in prison. The others are still in prison to this day.......... It has been said repeatedly that the spirit of the Sixties, the ''peace and love'' movement, died on those nights in August, 1969. The feeling of hope and desire for a better world thru the hippie mantra died when the first wounds went into the bodies at the Tate house. Maybe. But, the human condition is powered by hope and love. Most people live their lives preaching to themselves the idea of not hurting anyone. We may not be all love, but, it does flow thru most human beings......... And, in some, there is no love. There is hate and murder. For an example of this, visit the grave of Sharon Tate........ And, her unborn son........

Blood In The Hills Part 1

Charles Manson listened to the album because it was his Bible. In fact, he was never shy telling his disciples that there was a tremendous connection between the verses in the Bible and the famous singing group. But, in this glorious album, named simply, ''The Beatles'', but, quickly known to the public as the ''White Album'' [ because of its stark, white cover] Charlie found that The Beatles and he were synched up in thought. In several songs, Manson heard what the Fab Four was really saying. They were proclaiming their approval for a worldwide revolution. Whites fighting the blacks. The rich and the poor slugging it out for world dominance. Charlie told his followers that the race war would be the ultimate last war, an apocalypse to a new order. In Charlie's way of thinking, the blacks would beat the whites and have world domination. Then, as stated in The Gospel According To Charlie, the blacks would be incapable of leading the world by themselves. Therefore, they would need someone attuned to their thoughts and anger. After the revolution, Charlie and his chosen ''Family'' would rise up from the pit they had been living in while the race war was being fought. Charlie would be the new Leader Of The World and the blacks would follow him because they would need a Messiah, the newborn version of Jesus Christ. And, that would be Charlie and the Family. It was all predicted in that magic song on the ''White Album''. That telling version of what was to come to only the people tuned into The Beatles message. All the people who would embrace ''Helter Skelter''........ Sharon Tate was a beautiful woman without much talent. But, to those who knew her, she was a childlike waif in a stunningly attractive body. Sharon was as sweet in personality and soul as she was beautiful. In a town as bitchy as Hollywood, no one had a bad word about her. She had attained a certain level of celebrity by appearing, in 1968, in the film ''Valley Of The Dolls''. It was a poor movie based on the popular novel. While the film was no blockbuster, she did attract a certain amount of attention for the role. Well, it was her beauty that got the attention, not her acting ability. Sharon probably always knew that she was no great shakes as an actress. Just another stunner in a town of stunners. Sharon did have a successful social life. She had married Roman Polanski in 1968, the same year he became a sensation by directing ''Rosemary's Baby''. They were a much admired and popular couple in Hollywood. This was the late 1960's, where ''Flower Power'' and the whole ''Hippie Movement'' was at its peak. There were a constant stream of parties among the young. Everybody loved each other. There was open sex among the community, along with heavy drug usage. Roman and Sharon seemed to be the center of all activity during this period. Famous friends, including Warren Beatty, Jane Fonda, Jackie Bisset, Mia Farrow, all gathered around the charismatic couple. No one ever asked whom you brought to your parties. The houses were always open to the ''Beautiful People''. The future seemed very fine. Live and Let Live. There was peace and love in the air, so, why would you even bothering locking your doors?............ In 1967, a two-bit con named Charles Manson had been released from prison. Manson, a lifelong criminal, who had spent nearly two-thirds of his life behind bars, was a highly disturbed human being. It was more than anti-social behavior, there was something very wrong with this character. By turns charming and deadly, Manson had been thrown out of various homes as a child. He had even failed at the famous ''Boys Town'' orphanage. He was a thief, everything from cars to minor holdups with a knife. But, most of his life he was incarcerated behind prison walls, where, strangely, he felt most comfortable. In fact, when he was released on parole in 1967, he begged his parole officer to keep him locked up. Prison was his only home. As much as his parole officer wanted to keep this explosive person behind bars, the P.O. was handcuffed by bureaucracy. He had to let Manson out on to the mean streets. Charles Manson would land in San Francisco, smack dap in hippie central, during the famous ''Summer Of Love''. Soon, Charlie, who had a deep love of music, would gather around him a group of fellow wanderers. They were the castoffs of middle-class households. These kids, mostly women in their early twenties, had low self-esteem and were easily led by a dominant male figure. Charles Manson would become their God. Manson would preach his theories to them constantly. Add into a daily helping of LSD and other mind-altering drugs, Manson was able to have his half-assed ideas become full-blown visions and  the words of the new Messiah. Throughout 1967 to 1969, Charles Manson, with his ever widening ''Family'' of followers, controlled the minds of his faithful. He foretold of his idea about ''Helter Skelter'' and all that would happen. These disturbed kids bought whatever he said. Charlie was all truth.  By the summer of 1969, they would do anything Charlie asked. Even kill for him......... Terry Melcher was the highly successful producer of The Beach Boys, among other artists. He was always looking for fresh blood in an industry that used and spat out talent every few years. He was good friends with the drummer of The Beach Boys, Dennis Wilson. Dennis recently introduced Melcher to his new friend. This guy has some good musical talent, said Wilson. He played the guitar and wrote strange but interesting songs. His name was Manson. Dennis Wilson got to know Charlie after picking up two hitchhikers one night and taking them home for sex. The girls, Ella Jo Bailey and Patricia Krenwinkel, talked about their idol, who had a last name made up of both ''Man'' and ''Son''.  He was the Head Of Family of tuned in people. Dennis, always anxious to meet the enlightened, one day met this Manson guy. Dennis was charmed by him and soon, the whole large brood of the Manson Family had taken up camp in Wilson's home. There was a constant stream of orgies at the house, along with rampant drug taking. Of course, there was music being played. Dennis was so impressed by Manson, he told Charlie he would be a rock star soon. This was Charlie's dream. To finally be a Somebody in a world of Nobodies. The only hitch was that Terry Melcher was not impressed. After having Charlie out to his house--- which Melcher shared with his girlfriend, Candice Bergen---- Melcher decided that Manson was nothing special and told him that a recording career was not gonna happen. Charles Manson, true to form, was furious at what he perceived as betrayal by Melcher and Wilson. Soon, both would become so frightened of Manson and his rage that they cut off all contact with Charlie and the Family. They were kicked out of Dennis Wilson's house. And, there would be no more invites up to Melcher's house. The address of this residence was 10050 Cielo Drive. In time, Terry Melcher and Candice Bergen would move to the beach. They needed to rent the Cielo house out in the meantime. In early 1969, Roman Polanski and Sharon Tate moved in.......... One day in March, 1969, Charles Manson went looking for Terry Melcher at the house. Charlie went to the back cottage behind the main house thinking Melcher might be there. He was told by the actual owner of the home, Rudi Altobelli, who happened to be staying in the guesthouse temporary, that Melcher no longer lived there and that there were new tenants in the main house. Charlie was not happy. Altobelli finally told Manson to leave the property. As Charlie stormed out towards the main gate, Sharon Tate came out the front door. For one moment, Sharon Tate and Charles Manson looked into each others eyes........Sharon and Roman had their share of marital problems. Roman never let his married life interfere with his bachelor fun. He fucked around and was not discreet about it. Sharon, a good girl, did not swing like Roman. In early 1969, right after they moved into Cielo Drive, Sharon learned that she was pregnant. She was overjoyed. Her career, what there was of it, was gladly put aside while she planned on being a mother. Her only worry was Roman. She was unsure on whether Roman would want the baby. She waited a couple of months to finally tell him the news. At first, he wanted nothing to do with being a father. But, as the months rolled on by into the summer of 1969, he grew enthusiastic about the concept of fatherhood. It was hoped that the baby would bring Roman to his senses and stop womanizing. It didn't. It put a deep strain into their marriage. In July 1969, Roman went to England to work on preparations for a new movie. Sharon accompanied him for a while. Finally, late in the month, she said goodbye to Roman and sailed to America. He told her he would be back soon, around his birthday on August 12.......... August 8, 1969. Sharon Tate got up around 10:00am. She was sleeping very irregularly lately. The fact that there was an incredible heat wave the last week made this eight-and-a-half-months pregnant lady very uncomfortable. Sharon was also unhappy that Roman was still in England. She talked to him that morning from Los Angeles. Roman later said that Sharon was annoyed at her houseguests, Abigail Folger and Wojciech Frykowski. The former was a friend of Sharon's. The latter of Roman's. The couple had agreed to stay with Sharon at the Cielo house until Roman arrived back in L.A. Although she was grateful for the company, she wanted them out. Folger, an heiress with the famous coffee company, was a good-hearted woman who liked to volunteer working with the poor. Frykowski, however, was a jet-set leech. Although he claimed to be a filmmaker in Poland, he showed no evidence of having any talent or ambition. His main pleasure seemed to be getting high almost every night on Sharon's couch. As day went into evening, Sharon became jittery. She invited her old fiancée, Jay Sebring over to the house for company. Sebring, a famous hairdresser to the stars [ his friend, Warren Beatty, would later base his character in the movie ''Shampoo'' on Sebring] was still very much in love with Sharon. Those who knew him always speculated that Jay knew that the Polanski-Tate marriage was strained and he wanted to stay as close to Sharon as possible in case the couple folded. He was a good family friend, however, and was liked by Roman, too. So, when Sharon needed company that night, to break the monotony of Frykowski and Folger, she called Jay to come up to the house. He came willingly around sunset........... Out at the Spahn Ranch, in the desert where the Family lived, Charles Manson told his followers that now was the time for ''Helter Skelter''. He was tired of waiting around for the blacks to start the revolution. Charlie would do it. His plan was to murder white people and have the police blame the blacks for the crime. In doing so, Charlie reasoned, the whites would become so paranoid that war would break out. But, Charlie was stumped on where the war should start. Finally, he hit on the idea of starting the killing at a house he knew so well. Terry Melcher's old place. It did not matter that Manson was aware that Melcher no longer lived there. Whomever lived at the house would be the sacrificial guinea pigs in the war to shake up the establishment. Manson picked out his people carefully. By studying his ''Family'' all of these months, he knew who would kill for him. Thus, he chose Charles ''Tex'' Watson to be the leader of the bloodletting. With Watson would go Susan Atkins, perhaps, the most dangerous and unstable of all of the ''Family''. There would be Patricia Krenwinkel to go with them. And, a new member of the ''Family'' that Charlie was unsure about, Linda Kasabian. In the early evening of August 8, 1969, Charles Manson gave his four disciples specific instructions. They would go up to where Terry Melcher used to live and kill everyone there as viciously as possible. Charlie told them to ''get your hands dirty and leave something witchy''. With these instructions, the four got in the old car the ''Family'' had stolen and drove off into the night looking for blood........

Man On The Moon

I still find it amazing that we did it. We went There!!! The place of space fantasies, where heroes like Buck Rogers and Han Solo called home. It seems strange that we cannot cure the common cold or grow hair for the hair challenged, but we did this. On a perfect July evening in 1969, while the planet Earth was coming apart in dissension over war and race and gender lines, three men went to the Moon....... Visiting that strange object that has adorned the sky must have been a fantasy of humans ever since we started to inhabit this planet. We can only wonder what cavemen thought of that strange object in the sky as they ran for their lives to keep from being Sunday dinner by the dinosaurs. As mankind---- or, better yet, humankind----- developed into the beings we are now, the fascination of this object in the sky, along with other planets that were rotating around us, grew into a desire to visit and explore what might be out there....... Jump ahead to the 1930's and 40's. Among the madness and horrors that Hitler's Third Reich did, they did one sane thing: create a space program. Underneath his evil ways, Hitler did have an active imagination when it came to alternative life. He believed in the paranormal, ghosts, living before in past lives, and in outer space. With his war machine, he also told his scientists--- brilliant men and minds, it must be said--- to create travel in outer space. That is the foundation of where rockets came from. Hitler, in time, used these rockets [ ''V-1''and ''V-2''] to shoot at England when he was losing the war. After the Nazis went down in defeat, the best and the brightest among the German scientists, immigrated to other lands. Some were taken against their will to Russia and made to work with the Communists in the Cold War fight against the West. But, most came to America, and, after being cleared of any offenses committed against the Allies in WW2, they were put to work for our government to create the next big thing: the eventual travel to space........ Throughout the late 40's and 50's, a big push was made by the U.S. Government, led by the Eisenhower Administration, to get something up into space. The Russians were competing with us, and in true Cold War competition, we had to beat them in the race for space. In 1957, the Russians drew first blood by sending the ''Sputnik'' rocket into space. This was the test missile to see if humans could shoot something into the sky. It was a success, a very short test. But, it did go up and come back down successfully. The United States was highly embarrassed by this launch. We needed to get something up as well, along with the training of men to be a thing called ''astronauts''.......... In 1958, we rang the bell by sending up the ''Jupiter C'' rocket into space. It was our ''Sputnik''. It went up, tasted space for a few minutes, and then came down as planned, splashing into the ocean. The country was thrilled. The government was more thrilled. Not only because we got into outer space finally, but, it showed the power of how a rocket could reach anywhere, at any target. Which meant the military would get stronger. Not only were we aiming upwards but we were aiming at our enemies across the globe. These rockets could now become nuclear rockets used in the ongoing Cold War against Communism. The success of the ''Jupiter C'' brought us not only a taste of what was ''up there'' but also brought the threat of nuclear extinction through these rockets, a mere few minutes from happening........ ''NASA'' was created in Florida. It was the home headquarters for the space program. And, seven men were recruited and trained to be the first visitors to be sent into orbit. The ''Mercury 7'' they were called and they consisted of such brave men as, John Glenn, Scott Carpenter, Virgil ''Gus'' Grissom, Alan Shepard, Wally Schirra, Deke Slayton, and Gordon Cooper. These men lived together, palled around together, fought together, and ultimately, succeeded together as they battled the elements pitted against them to go to space. Later, these men would be immortalized by writer Tom Wolfe as having ''The Right Stuff''....... When John F. Kennedy got into the White House in 1961, one of the first items on his agenda was getting the space program into fast track. His hard-charging administration wanted to best the Russians on all fronts. In May, 1961, President Kennedy made a public speech declaring that he would like a man on the moon by the end of the 1960's....... First off the bat into space was Alan Shepard. It was April, 1961. The Russians had already sent a man up and, once again, we were behind the eight-ball. Shepard was a fine pilot---- as all the men were--- to lead this mission. The only problem was he had to wait forever on the launching pad for the ok to ''light this candle''. Hour after hour went by as the world waited for NASA to finally give the go-ahead. There was understandable concern that something might malfunction and Shepard could be killed on the spot. Things even got so bad that the natural body functions of a human being came into play. Alan Shepard, after drinking a lot of coffee and water before he was latched into his capsule, quite simply, had to take a piss. To pry him out of his capsule would abort the trip. So Shepard did the only thing we all would do: he peed into his spacesuit.  Soon, detections of liquid appeared on the NASA computers. Everything was fine, everyone had a laugh, and Shepard was feeling better. Soon after, he was launched into space successfully. He was up less than half an hour. But, it was a rousing success. Alan Shepard, pee stained and all, came back to Earth and was rightfully declared an American Hero......... John Glenn would go up in 1962. His mission would be more hazardous. He not only was going up into space but was going to orbit Earth many times. This had never been done. And, when something has never been done before, beginners accidents happen. No one could predict if Glenn would come back alive. The first part of his mission went soundly. He spun around the planet many times, marveling in the glorious sights that he was seeing. Then, a problem developed. A serious problem. His heat shield around the capsule failed him. It was burning up. This shield was what was protecting him from being burned alive when he started to reenter Earth's orbit. For several moments, as the capsule came back to Earth, John Glenn was in enormous pain from the heat. For several frightening moments, it was feared he may burn to death. But, he survived just fine, like the true American Hero he is........... Eventually, all of the ''Mercury 7'' would go into space. None made it to the moon, however. And, in 1967, Virgil ''Gus'' Grissom and two other men were killed when their lunar capsule exploded on the runway at NASA. Of all of those seven, only John Glenn is still alive........ By 1969, we were ready to go to the moon. Various astronauts had traveled into space and even one capsule had spun around the moon in 1968. We had long-since lapped the Russians by winning the space race but one destination still needed to be conquered. In July 1969 it was......... The three astronauts were Neil Armstrong, Edwin ''Buzz'' Aldrin, and Michael Collins. Armstrong was the commander of the mission, so, he would be the first man on the moon. Aldrin, according to legend, was not happy about this. He wanted to be the first, not the second man to walk on the moon. He tried to pull some strings in Washington to force his position. But, NASA wanted Armstrong. Collins would stay with the ship and man the controls. Among our achievements into outer space, we had been sending satellites up there---- as did other countries---- to better our lives on Earth. Because of these satellites, we were able to watch the landing from our living rooms. Seeing a man, so many thousands of miles away in space, from the comfort of our couches made the whole space program worth all of the time and money and blood spent achieving this goal. I'm sure JFK, wherever he was, was watching his dream come true also........ On July 20, 1969, ''Apollo 11'' landed on the surface of the moon. Hundreds of millions of people were watching this around the world. After some time, the door of the capsule opened and a solitary figure stepped out onto the steps to take him to the surface. The world held a collective breath right as he made the step onto the moon's surface. After making this historic step, Neil Armstrong said. '' That is one small step for man. One giant leap for mankind''........ Soon, Aldrin would join him walking the moon. They took samples of the moon's surface to bring back to Earth. They took pictures of each other and what the view was like around them. Eventually, they would plant an American flag. It was a final statement of the decades of hard work and some blood lost getting there. It showed America had won the race to space....... The flag was also planted for another reason. The year of 1969 on the planet Earth was as tumultuous a year as history had ever been. There was the Vietnam war raging out of control. There was the race riots in many cities. There was the fallout of important leaders being assassinated . There was revolution in the air. Hate and divisions among the people was very much felt....... But, in another place, where two men were walking, like Adam and Eve, a new world where none of the Earth's hatreds and fears was felt, a flag they were planting also was a symbol. The flag was planted in the spirit of peace.........