I've found myself in situations lately where I've been made to remember a lot of things from my past; both distant and recent. Now this isn't a post about 9/11 per se, but the events of the day certainly factor in here.
Recently a friend sent me a YouTube clip of U2 playing live somewhere circa 1984. I responded by asking him how crazy was it that my mom was actually at Wembley Stadium in 1985 for Live Aid and witnessed first hand the now classic U2 performance of "Bad". Not two seconds later did he hit me up with that very clip, and man if I wasn't instantly transported back to my living room on Euclid Heights Blvd the morning of July, 1985. My good friend Harry Richards had come over just to see U2 with me then we were heading down to WRUW's Studio-A-Rama on Case's campus. It was the best college radio station's (sorry Berni) all day outdoor live event and Harry and I, both 16, had a plan.
After thinking about that specific day, I thought about 1985 in general. Summer '85 still to this day, is my favorite summer ever. My best friends and I skateboarded all day and then drove around all night looking for parties or new skate spots. It didn't matter if it was as far east as Chesterland or as far west as Elyria. Amato would drive and we would skate, laugh, crack on each other and eat a lot of really bad food. Alpha Park and Denny's always seemed to factor in somehow. We were the "Heights kids". But we never drank. And we were always together; most of us had gone to the same grade school. Our parents all knew each other and they knew that we were pretty responsible kids (for the most part). We were generally left to our own devices until all hours. Not because our parents were irresponsible, more because we were good kids who could be trusted to make the right decision. I remember Rob Gilmore, Jim Amato, Pat Whelan, Mike Jones, Charlie Garriga, Mark Konopka, Sam Nigro, Robbie Stevens (my best friend for all of that great summer of '85). I remember swimming at Thonton Park and having a huge crush on Katie Moore (she lived on Townlie!). Some of the guys are no longer with me (Rob, I'll miss you always) and some, like Charlie, I see and talk to frequently. But for one summer, it was all there for us. All it took to bring it flooding back was a simple U2 clip from Josh.
The other night I was working the door at a club in the city. For any of you that know me, it's always something I've enjoyed doing in addition to having a full time job. Somewhere around 12:30 a familiar face approached the door with a group of similar looking kids. It wound up being a kid named Itchy who was on the road with A Static Lullaby when I was their tour manager during the summer of 2003. I said hello and asked how he was and if he still talked to the guys. He let me know two of the guys quit and formed their own band while Joe and Dan are still in ASL. I quit grilling him and let him hang with his friends.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, I began to think back on those eight weeks I spent on the road with ASL. I was 34, they were all between 18-22. Some nights I wanted to kill them, other nights they wanted to kill me. We were in a van with a huge equipment trailer hitched behind us. I remember every venue we played. From Denver to Quebec City, from Vancouver to Baltimore. I remember getting to know the other bands on the road with us, Strung Out, Eighteen Visons, Form of Rocket and The Kinison. There was a legitimate bond between bands by the end of it all. I remember being a big brother, a cop, a dad, a mom, a maid, an accountant (and not a very good one), a negotiator and a tough guy. I remember driving more miles across Canada than anyone ever should have to. I remember my best friend, Dean meeting me in Pittsburgh and providing one night of sanity in a posh hotel. I remember Joe asking if he could hang out with my friends and me in Chicago and being flattered he'dwant to hang out with a geezer like me. I remember getting everyone to stay at the Sheraton in Saskatoon because it had indoor water slides. I remember thinking that might not have been the best idea as the boys decided to climb up the supports of the water slides to the top. Dealing with the promotors at the venues was always fun. It certainly helped to have a solid booking agency behind the tour; less chance for those local lizards to fuck us. All it took to remember those eight weeks in that van with Joe, Dan, Phil, Nate, Ben, Eric and Itchy was seeing Itchy for about ten minutes outside the door of a club.
Bed time. For those that care, I promise part two will not take me a month to write.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Friday, June 16, 2006
Back in this Bitch
Yeah, I've been on hiatus for a while on this thing. And you know what? It's been for no good reason. It's summer time, the last time I posted was in March. That's unacceptable. While this post will be short, I promise that it will be the first in a series of consistent, well thought out (for the most part) entries.
I'll even go so far as to give you a teaser. The next entry you read will be about NY "fashion" and what I could live a lifetime without ever seeing again. So look out all you ladies walking around in thrift store skirts and old cowboy boots, I'm coming to get you. And it's gonna be quick, and it'll get ugly, real ugly. So, check back soon, please.
Of course I know I'm pretty much talking to myself at this point. But anyway...
I'll even go so far as to give you a teaser. The next entry you read will be about NY "fashion" and what I could live a lifetime without ever seeing again. So look out all you ladies walking around in thrift store skirts and old cowboy boots, I'm coming to get you. And it's gonna be quick, and it'll get ugly, real ugly. So, check back soon, please.
Of course I know I'm pretty much talking to myself at this point. But anyway...
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
New Personal Best!
Good news, I improved on a personal record today. I got shitcanned from a job quicker than I've ever been shitcanned from a job before! One day shy of two months. It took me being in the best shape of my life to reach this lofty goal, it was no easy feat. There are so many people for me to thank, where do I begin?
I'd like to start by giving a shout out to the L train. L train, thank you for consistently sending five trains towards Canarsie before sending one into Manhattan. Of course by that point, only four people out of the 300 now amassed on the platform could fit onto that train. Getting me into work at 9:08, four trains later on a regular basis really put me in good stead with my new employers right off the bat.
While we're here, a hearty thanks to my new (now ex) employers. Your warm welcome and clearly stated expectations really set the tone for my outstanding sales career with your organization. Putting me in the corner next to the 64 year old lifer was a stroke of genius. What better way for me to learn key products and corporate culture then to expose me to the sound of Methuselah's hacking cough and "positive" attitude? Jack effing Welch couldn't run a company better than you guys, congratulations!
I certainly can't forget my old friend, Grey Goose. Oh, Goose, without you where would I be? Oh yeah, probably still employed. Oh, I kid. I thank Grey Goose for seeing me through so many cold winter nights (and early mornings). If not for your comforting effect I would have woken up on time and clear-headed, ready for another fantastic day in corporate America. Clearly you recognize this is no way to approach a bright new day, thanks for consistently sending me on my way under the "fog of war."
And where would I be without Dave's Place - Top of the Line, the friendly Puerto Rican bar directly under my bedroom? Karaoke night on Wednesdays you say?! I'm there! Well, not really "there." More like 10 feet above "there" in ideal position to absorb as much bass as humanly possible. Dave, I know it's necessary to play your diverse and interesting salsa music at Spinal Tap levels for all four of your loyal customers, really I do. And when Fabiola sings "Summer Lovin'" for the fourth time that night, sheesh, how can a tennant properly thank his landlord for that little gift from above (or, in this case, below)?
Oh shit, the music's starting, wait... um, oh yeah. Last, but certainly not least, I need to thank myself for having the incredible foresight to turn down an additional $20K from another prospective employer to take this last job. It's forward thinking like this that lead to the invention of Betamax.
I know I've set the bar high. To even dream about breaking this record I'll have to dig deep. But with my dedication, my commitment, my undying effort to improve, I'm confident I can do better. And do better I will, this you can trust. Just let me grab my Goose and soda at Dave's Place, I think I've got next song.
I'd like to start by giving a shout out to the L train. L train, thank you for consistently sending five trains towards Canarsie before sending one into Manhattan. Of course by that point, only four people out of the 300 now amassed on the platform could fit onto that train. Getting me into work at 9:08, four trains later on a regular basis really put me in good stead with my new employers right off the bat.
While we're here, a hearty thanks to my new (now ex) employers. Your warm welcome and clearly stated expectations really set the tone for my outstanding sales career with your organization. Putting me in the corner next to the 64 year old lifer was a stroke of genius. What better way for me to learn key products and corporate culture then to expose me to the sound of Methuselah's hacking cough and "positive" attitude? Jack effing Welch couldn't run a company better than you guys, congratulations!
I certainly can't forget my old friend, Grey Goose. Oh, Goose, without you where would I be? Oh yeah, probably still employed. Oh, I kid. I thank Grey Goose for seeing me through so many cold winter nights (and early mornings). If not for your comforting effect I would have woken up on time and clear-headed, ready for another fantastic day in corporate America. Clearly you recognize this is no way to approach a bright new day, thanks for consistently sending me on my way under the "fog of war."
And where would I be without Dave's Place - Top of the Line, the friendly Puerto Rican bar directly under my bedroom? Karaoke night on Wednesdays you say?! I'm there! Well, not really "there." More like 10 feet above "there" in ideal position to absorb as much bass as humanly possible. Dave, I know it's necessary to play your diverse and interesting salsa music at Spinal Tap levels for all four of your loyal customers, really I do. And when Fabiola sings "Summer Lovin'" for the fourth time that night, sheesh, how can a tennant properly thank his landlord for that little gift from above (or, in this case, below)?
Oh shit, the music's starting, wait... um, oh yeah. Last, but certainly not least, I need to thank myself for having the incredible foresight to turn down an additional $20K from another prospective employer to take this last job. It's forward thinking like this that lead to the invention of Betamax.
I know I've set the bar high. To even dream about breaking this record I'll have to dig deep. But with my dedication, my commitment, my undying effort to improve, I'm confident I can do better. And do better I will, this you can trust. Just let me grab my Goose and soda at Dave's Place, I think I've got next song.
Friday, January 27, 2006
James Frey - Celebrity Author or Celebrity Liar
Those of you that know me have heard me talk about and have seen me write about the two books written by James Frey, "A Million Little Pieces" and "My Friend Leonard." You know that I enjoyed both books and have recommended them both to anyone willing to listen. Between then and now, Frey has been called to the carpet in regards to the "truthiness" (thank you Mr. Colbert) of certain aspects of each book. This seems to have culminated in Frey's return to Oprah's couch yesterday where he endured a verbal beat down from his one-time supporter.
Now I know my share of Shaker Heights based kids that had fucked up upbringings and have spent their time battling various demons (hi Josh!). Some of these kids even went to the same grade school as Frey (Josh, hello again, and you too K-Bird!). So, as I was reading "Pieces" I kept telling my mom that I couldn't believe that all of his stories about rehab were completely true. Oddly enough, I also know a few folks that attended Hazelden (what's up xxxxx!). A lot of the things Frey says happened there just would not have gone down that way. I am in no way doubting that Frey had a drinking and drug problem, rather that things happened the way they did or to the extent that they did.
I knew that Frey was a screen writer before penning these two memoirs so he is no stranger to fiction. I also know he pitched "Pieces" as a novel and was turned down by 19 publishers before Nan Talese suggested he write it as a memoir. That being said, my only disappointment is in how Frey addressed the situation he found himself in last week when all this came to a head. Before seeing him on Larry King I had never heard the cat speak. I only knew him from his description of himself in his books and based on the photos I've seen on his dust covers. I expected a guy with a pretty pissed off demeanor; after all, the fury had to still be in him somewhere, right? Nope. What I heard was a guy who sounded pretty reserved, slightly effeminate even in his delivery. Hey, no problem, just address this shit head on, I thought. Nope, he backpedaled, hemmed and hawed his way through a pretty shaky explanation. Oh well, I thought, your image is blown but you're still gonna sell a million more books. Good for you.
Well, good for him until he went on Oprah yesterday. She blasted him, Talese, everyone as his backpedaling continued. If I were in crisis management (maybe I should be), I would have demanded he face the acusations head on. Be that tough guy you described yourself as in your books. Be ready to FTBSITTTD at any point. Go for the throat. All he had to do, from the time he went on Larry King to the time he was administered his rectal pounding by Oprah was to be the aggressive guy we saw in "Pieces." King accuses him of lying? Bring it. "You know Larry, I busted my ass shopping this piece to publishers and got shut down 19 times before Nan Talese took a chance on me. Did certain embellished aspects of my novel filter through to the memoir? Yeah, they probably did." Oprah tells you you mislead millions of people? "You know Oprah, maybe I did exaggerate or even lie in some places, but you know what? I was a freaking drug addled, boozed out addict, I exxagerated a lot to get by, I lied, I got in trouble, I went to rehab but I am clean right now and have been for 10 years. Take what you need to from that and move on." The Smoking Gun calls you out? "Hey, fuck you man! Walk a mile in my shoes before come after me. I didn't ask for all this celebrity. Oprah wants to put me on a pedastal, great, she wants to knock me off, even better. I am who I am and I don't apologize for any of it." Frey maintains that stance and he's a bad-ass. He appears on Larry king with his mommy and he looks like every other punk from Shaker I ever knew who ran home to his mom when the shit got thick (I'm kind of kidding here, but not so much).
Bottom line? Read the books. Fact/Fiction, Truth/Lies, Ethical/Non-Ethical, it doesn't matter, they're a great read. I just wish this guy wouldn't have apologized and caved like he did. I wanted to see that bad ass with the fury attacking his detractors. If anything, the lamb that he turned out to be makes me believe even less of the books' events. Well, don't forget to pony up your $10.25 for the movie version due out in 2007, it's sure to raise this whole ruckus yet again. Any thoughts or comments, I'd love to hear them.
Now I know my share of Shaker Heights based kids that had fucked up upbringings and have spent their time battling various demons (hi Josh!). Some of these kids even went to the same grade school as Frey (Josh, hello again, and you too K-Bird!). So, as I was reading "Pieces" I kept telling my mom that I couldn't believe that all of his stories about rehab were completely true. Oddly enough, I also know a few folks that attended Hazelden (what's up xxxxx!). A lot of the things Frey says happened there just would not have gone down that way. I am in no way doubting that Frey had a drinking and drug problem, rather that things happened the way they did or to the extent that they did.
I knew that Frey was a screen writer before penning these two memoirs so he is no stranger to fiction. I also know he pitched "Pieces" as a novel and was turned down by 19 publishers before Nan Talese suggested he write it as a memoir. That being said, my only disappointment is in how Frey addressed the situation he found himself in last week when all this came to a head. Before seeing him on Larry King I had never heard the cat speak. I only knew him from his description of himself in his books and based on the photos I've seen on his dust covers. I expected a guy with a pretty pissed off demeanor; after all, the fury had to still be in him somewhere, right? Nope. What I heard was a guy who sounded pretty reserved, slightly effeminate even in his delivery. Hey, no problem, just address this shit head on, I thought. Nope, he backpedaled, hemmed and hawed his way through a pretty shaky explanation. Oh well, I thought, your image is blown but you're still gonna sell a million more books. Good for you.
Well, good for him until he went on Oprah yesterday. She blasted him, Talese, everyone as his backpedaling continued. If I were in crisis management (maybe I should be), I would have demanded he face the acusations head on. Be that tough guy you described yourself as in your books. Be ready to FTBSITTTD at any point. Go for the throat. All he had to do, from the time he went on Larry King to the time he was administered his rectal pounding by Oprah was to be the aggressive guy we saw in "Pieces." King accuses him of lying? Bring it. "You know Larry, I busted my ass shopping this piece to publishers and got shut down 19 times before Nan Talese took a chance on me. Did certain embellished aspects of my novel filter through to the memoir? Yeah, they probably did." Oprah tells you you mislead millions of people? "You know Oprah, maybe I did exaggerate or even lie in some places, but you know what? I was a freaking drug addled, boozed out addict, I exxagerated a lot to get by, I lied, I got in trouble, I went to rehab but I am clean right now and have been for 10 years. Take what you need to from that and move on." The Smoking Gun calls you out? "Hey, fuck you man! Walk a mile in my shoes before come after me. I didn't ask for all this celebrity. Oprah wants to put me on a pedastal, great, she wants to knock me off, even better. I am who I am and I don't apologize for any of it." Frey maintains that stance and he's a bad-ass. He appears on Larry king with his mommy and he looks like every other punk from Shaker I ever knew who ran home to his mom when the shit got thick (I'm kind of kidding here, but not so much).
Bottom line? Read the books. Fact/Fiction, Truth/Lies, Ethical/Non-Ethical, it doesn't matter, they're a great read. I just wish this guy wouldn't have apologized and caved like he did. I wanted to see that bad ass with the fury attacking his detractors. If anything, the lamb that he turned out to be makes me believe even less of the books' events. Well, don't forget to pony up your $10.25 for the movie version due out in 2007, it's sure to raise this whole ruckus yet again. Any thoughts or comments, I'd love to hear them.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Happy New Year to All (four of you)!
Well, Since my last post, I've experienced two deaths, emergency surgery for a dear family friend, a holiday season, countless interviews and two job offers. Not to mention reading two books by the same author that completely blew me away.
On Thanksgiving a good friend of mine died when she fell down an elevator shaft in Washington DC. Needless to say, it was a shock to all of us as most had been in very recent contact with her. Those that hadn't were certainly kept informed by those that had been. As I came to grips with the situation I coordinated a trip to Cleveland with a good friend of mine. As I've found to be the case with my friends and even our extended group of friends from Cleveleland, we're very good at spreading the word and rallying for each other. Support in times like these is crucial and it was evident in spades. Folks who lived in Cleveland picked up those that didn't from local airports and everyone convened at the funeral home. One good thing that can be taken away from trying times like these is seeing folks you haven't seen in a long time and renewing that bond that made you friends in the first place. In this case that bond was a certain club in Cleveland where many of us had worked and hung out together. After the visitation we all convened at a friend's bar downtown and had a good opportunity to decompress from the repressive funeral home. As the drinks flowed stories were shared and memories recounted. We continued to stick together through the (painfully awful) eulogy and made it to the "lunch in the church basement" phase of the proceedings. Here, our group of friends convened in the deepest corner in an effort to keep the wagons circled. The food was an amazing collection of casseroles and well, er casseroles. Casseroles were made out of things I didn't even know you couldmake casseroles out of but we ate them. After attacking the dessert table and bringing two full plates back for our group we realized it would soon be time to go our separate ways. We hugged each other and exchanged numbers; made promises to keep in touch. Whether or not that happens is secondary to the fact that we were all there together for each other at that time; it was comforting to experience that. Dawn, I was just thinking about you too. You will be missed.
After coming back to New York I dove right back into the interview process attempting to stick to my goal of finding a new job by the new year. I narrowed my choices to three companies. One was a darkhorse where I made a really solid connection with the SVP of sales. After carefully considering my options I chose to go in a different direction but he paid me some very nice compliments and left the door open for future dialogue. I'd like to work for him someday because I think I can learn from him and in my line of work, I can never learn enough. I informed my new emplyer that I was accepting their offer and am scheduled to start tomorrow morning. New job for the new year, mission accomplished.
While I was in Cleveland for the funeral, my mom handed me a book she had found through the Oprah book club. Yeah, I saw the red flags too. But if you know my mom, you'll understand that she never watches Oprah, she just happened to catch the story behind this particular book and was compelled enough to buy and read the book. The book in question is "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Frey is from Shaker Heights, Ohio, right next door to Cleveland Heights, Ohio where I was born and raised. Frey is actually five months younger than me and went to Fernway elementary school where one of my very best friends also went, she remembers him. Frey became addicted to alcohol and drugs and was smoking crack and blacking out every day by the time he was 23. The book chronicles his time at Hazelden, a rehab clinic in Minnesota, a place where friends of mine have gone. Their success rate is 17%. Their success rate is the best in the world. Their success rate is 17%. I won't recount his story, I just suggest you read it, it's utterly engrossing, sad, compelling, scary, uplifting and in your face all at the same time. Now, Frey is a screen writer and some folks have accused him of "embellishing" his story a bit. I don't care. Read this book. Even if it's 97% fiction (it's not), read this book.
I made it about 40 pages in at the beginning of December. When I came home for Christmas (can I still call it that?), I dove in and finished it in a couple days. I hit the Internet and tried to find out what I could about Frey. I read a couple interviews, found out he lives in NYC as well and also, best of all, discovered he is still a die hard Cleveland Indians fan. Check that, best of all, I found out he is still clean. During the course of events in "A Million Little Pieces" he develops a friendship with a man named Leonard. Leonard is a well connected mob fixture who becomes Frey's guardian of sorts. After checking Amazon I discovered that he had written a book detailing his friendship with Leonard and how it developed after his release from Hazelden. I bought this book the day I took off to come back to NYC and finished it that night; that's how compelling that book was. "My Friend Leonard" was outstanding. Again, Frey is a screenwriter, keep this in mind. It didn't matter to me, the book stands on its own as a heart wrenching, uplifting, thought provoking piece of work. I cried the entire last 20 pages, don't think a book has ever had that effect on me. Please read these two books.
My mom has a cousin from the old neighborhood whom she recently reconnected with. Her cousin is from her dad's side of the family. Now, my mom's folks (my grandparents) were divorced in the 40's and back then, you just didn't get divorced. My mom lived with her mother and was basically estranged from her dad's side of the family. This cousin is from that side of the family, so it's interesting/cool that they reconnected. Hey, family's family. It turns out that my mom's cousin married the son of the secretary of my grade school, interesting. Ok, enough of a history lesson here. Well, the husband has a very successful law firm in Cleveland, if you watch enough TV in Cleveland you'll see him tell you how concerned he is that you receive proper counsel should you ever need it. Very nice guy, very successful. My mom's cousin was a judge in Cleveland Heights and is a very fun/boisterous/in your face/honest person. They love sports and they love to entertain. They have a loge for Browns games, they have courtside seats for the Cavs, both her sons were bat boys for the Cleveland Indians. I saw the Browns beat the Ravens last Sunday in their loge with family and friends. He was flying to the Fiesta Bowl with his son the next day to see, in his words, "Notre Dame kick the holy living shit out of Ohio State." He had a heart attack on his plane en route to Tempe. His son was on the plane with him. He died. Yeah, I was watching the Browns game with him on Sunday, Monday he had a heart attack and died. I feel terrible for this family, last holiday season their oldest son was in a terrible car accident and is still wheel chair bound. Why this family? It never makes sense.
I spent New Years with a good friend of mine running around downtown Cleveland between three different spots. God bless that city, I've been gone five years plus but still knew every bartender. It's always good to see them. We all used to work together, they all take care of me like I still work with them, like I still have their backs, which of course I do, just from 500 miles away. Christmas Eve was what it always is at my mom's place, just a bit scaled back. Her friends, my friends, hanging out, drinking, conversing until all hours. Of course it wasn't at all complete because my mom's best friend had open heart surgery the night before. Christmas day was quiet; a visit to the hospital to visit our recovering friend and her husband. Christmas night was the Grog Shop as it always is. I smelled like an ashtray. A drunk ashtray.
While this post might sound a bit morose I'm happy to have welcomed 2006 to the plate. Let's see what happens this year. No resolutions, no promises. Let it roll and let's see what happens. Hey, pitchers and catchers report in six weeks!
On Thanksgiving a good friend of mine died when she fell down an elevator shaft in Washington DC. Needless to say, it was a shock to all of us as most had been in very recent contact with her. Those that hadn't were certainly kept informed by those that had been. As I came to grips with the situation I coordinated a trip to Cleveland with a good friend of mine. As I've found to be the case with my friends and even our extended group of friends from Cleveleland, we're very good at spreading the word and rallying for each other. Support in times like these is crucial and it was evident in spades. Folks who lived in Cleveland picked up those that didn't from local airports and everyone convened at the funeral home. One good thing that can be taken away from trying times like these is seeing folks you haven't seen in a long time and renewing that bond that made you friends in the first place. In this case that bond was a certain club in Cleveland where many of us had worked and hung out together. After the visitation we all convened at a friend's bar downtown and had a good opportunity to decompress from the repressive funeral home. As the drinks flowed stories were shared and memories recounted. We continued to stick together through the (painfully awful) eulogy and made it to the "lunch in the church basement" phase of the proceedings. Here, our group of friends convened in the deepest corner in an effort to keep the wagons circled. The food was an amazing collection of casseroles and well, er casseroles. Casseroles were made out of things I didn't even know you couldmake casseroles out of but we ate them. After attacking the dessert table and bringing two full plates back for our group we realized it would soon be time to go our separate ways. We hugged each other and exchanged numbers; made promises to keep in touch. Whether or not that happens is secondary to the fact that we were all there together for each other at that time; it was comforting to experience that. Dawn, I was just thinking about you too. You will be missed.
After coming back to New York I dove right back into the interview process attempting to stick to my goal of finding a new job by the new year. I narrowed my choices to three companies. One was a darkhorse where I made a really solid connection with the SVP of sales. After carefully considering my options I chose to go in a different direction but he paid me some very nice compliments and left the door open for future dialogue. I'd like to work for him someday because I think I can learn from him and in my line of work, I can never learn enough. I informed my new emplyer that I was accepting their offer and am scheduled to start tomorrow morning. New job for the new year, mission accomplished.
While I was in Cleveland for the funeral, my mom handed me a book she had found through the Oprah book club. Yeah, I saw the red flags too. But if you know my mom, you'll understand that she never watches Oprah, she just happened to catch the story behind this particular book and was compelled enough to buy and read the book. The book in question is "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey. Frey is from Shaker Heights, Ohio, right next door to Cleveland Heights, Ohio where I was born and raised. Frey is actually five months younger than me and went to Fernway elementary school where one of my very best friends also went, she remembers him. Frey became addicted to alcohol and drugs and was smoking crack and blacking out every day by the time he was 23. The book chronicles his time at Hazelden, a rehab clinic in Minnesota, a place where friends of mine have gone. Their success rate is 17%. Their success rate is the best in the world. Their success rate is 17%. I won't recount his story, I just suggest you read it, it's utterly engrossing, sad, compelling, scary, uplifting and in your face all at the same time. Now, Frey is a screen writer and some folks have accused him of "embellishing" his story a bit. I don't care. Read this book. Even if it's 97% fiction (it's not), read this book.
I made it about 40 pages in at the beginning of December. When I came home for Christmas (can I still call it that?), I dove in and finished it in a couple days. I hit the Internet and tried to find out what I could about Frey. I read a couple interviews, found out he lives in NYC as well and also, best of all, discovered he is still a die hard Cleveland Indians fan. Check that, best of all, I found out he is still clean. During the course of events in "A Million Little Pieces" he develops a friendship with a man named Leonard. Leonard is a well connected mob fixture who becomes Frey's guardian of sorts. After checking Amazon I discovered that he had written a book detailing his friendship with Leonard and how it developed after his release from Hazelden. I bought this book the day I took off to come back to NYC and finished it that night; that's how compelling that book was. "My Friend Leonard" was outstanding. Again, Frey is a screenwriter, keep this in mind. It didn't matter to me, the book stands on its own as a heart wrenching, uplifting, thought provoking piece of work. I cried the entire last 20 pages, don't think a book has ever had that effect on me. Please read these two books.
My mom has a cousin from the old neighborhood whom she recently reconnected with. Her cousin is from her dad's side of the family. Now, my mom's folks (my grandparents) were divorced in the 40's and back then, you just didn't get divorced. My mom lived with her mother and was basically estranged from her dad's side of the family. This cousin is from that side of the family, so it's interesting/cool that they reconnected. Hey, family's family. It turns out that my mom's cousin married the son of the secretary of my grade school, interesting. Ok, enough of a history lesson here. Well, the husband has a very successful law firm in Cleveland, if you watch enough TV in Cleveland you'll see him tell you how concerned he is that you receive proper counsel should you ever need it. Very nice guy, very successful. My mom's cousin was a judge in Cleveland Heights and is a very fun/boisterous/in your face/honest person. They love sports and they love to entertain. They have a loge for Browns games, they have courtside seats for the Cavs, both her sons were bat boys for the Cleveland Indians. I saw the Browns beat the Ravens last Sunday in their loge with family and friends. He was flying to the Fiesta Bowl with his son the next day to see, in his words, "Notre Dame kick the holy living shit out of Ohio State." He had a heart attack on his plane en route to Tempe. His son was on the plane with him. He died. Yeah, I was watching the Browns game with him on Sunday, Monday he had a heart attack and died. I feel terrible for this family, last holiday season their oldest son was in a terrible car accident and is still wheel chair bound. Why this family? It never makes sense.
I spent New Years with a good friend of mine running around downtown Cleveland between three different spots. God bless that city, I've been gone five years plus but still knew every bartender. It's always good to see them. We all used to work together, they all take care of me like I still work with them, like I still have their backs, which of course I do, just from 500 miles away. Christmas Eve was what it always is at my mom's place, just a bit scaled back. Her friends, my friends, hanging out, drinking, conversing until all hours. Of course it wasn't at all complete because my mom's best friend had open heart surgery the night before. Christmas day was quiet; a visit to the hospital to visit our recovering friend and her husband. Christmas night was the Grog Shop as it always is. I smelled like an ashtray. A drunk ashtray.
While this post might sound a bit morose I'm happy to have welcomed 2006 to the plate. Let's see what happens this year. No resolutions, no promises. Let it roll and let's see what happens. Hey, pitchers and catchers report in six weeks!
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