It’s no surprise that many of my blogs of reminiscing begin with: “When I was a kid at the Jersey Shore.” It was and remains a magical place for our family. There is a wide, off-white sandy beach, a small downtown with ice cream shops, miniature golf, a small arcade, a movie theater, and even a boardwalk for romantic post-pizza strolls. That’s not even to mention the Sabia/Sedlacek compound. We have the “dock on the bay” complete with boats and jet-skis, railings and pilings for karate kid bay jumps—a semi-private haven for all our tomfoolery. It made for great vacations. Continue reading
friends
Love and the Jersey Shore
Love is all around us on Valentine’s Day; and not the love that most of us experience. Not the absolute love from family; not the productive love of a partner; not even the dependable love of a pet. We are exposed to the Hallmark version of love. The version of love that can be quantified through expensive jewelry, fancy chocolates, and effusive gift cards. It’s another great idea destroyed by commercialism. Continue reading
About Life, Death and Falling Felines
Living on Earth is hard on the heart. We see things, feel things and hear things that can hurt us, hurt our soul, hurt the everlasting spirit that we know is inside of us and has been in and of this galaxy in many forms and shapes since time immemorial. We cannot avoid the pain; we cannot avoid the love, the moments of bliss or the moments of terror. We are cursed and blessed with the gift of consciousness. Continue reading
Like…
“I don’t like him.” It hurt me to hear that; and I was completely unprepared how to stop the feelings from being hurt. The other boy quickly replied (unconvincingly), “I don’t like him either.” I could see from his drooping head that he felt sad. Kids are not nice, they don’t need to pretend they like someone because they work with them, or live near them, or have mutual friends, or need something from them. Kids tell others how they feel, when they feel it. They are filter-less, emotional creatures with terrifyingly simple opinions. Continue reading
Super Monday?
Super Sunday is a party day in America complete with gathering friends, extensive dip selections, cursing at the TV, watery beer, and the inevitable disappointment. The disappointment for me comes knowing it’s seven months until football season again, sometimes disappointment in a boring, lopsided game, and for others it is the disappointment of being the supporter of a losing team. For the lucky few who support the winning team, it is pure exhilaration of bragging rights for the whole year (despite having done nothing to contribute to the winning cause except second guess every 3rd down play and pretend to support the time they went for it on 4th and goal). As we know, all games need to have a loser (except in that rather excessively gentlemanly game of European football, where draws leave a sour yet satisfactory flavor in the mouth of its fans). Continue reading
William Sabia 