With the funeral past and tears and hugs all around everyone returned to their respective homes around the globe. Fast-forward fifteen days. The tribe returns, although in limited numbers, to set the process in motion for the disposition of the estate.
Having been in the solid waste business the past thirty-five years, I have come to see many cherished memories cast into the dustbin of life. Pictures of some long past summer idyllic, holidays, birthdays, graduations and other special occasions that make the mileposts in our lives. Often I would take time to just pick up a discarded photo book and look sadly at the memories that these people once thought so precious and dear. I thought about whose children they were. And had they cast their parents memories into the dustbin of life?.
I saw the faded color photos, the black and whites with the cut off heads or the out of focus lens. The fashions of years past. The hairstyles we wouldn’t be caught dead in today! The embarrassing photos that parents often take of their children. Or the photos taken on the sly of that first kiss or the party where someone was caught wearing the lampshade. Really I have seen these! Before me was a short and condensed version of a family’s life and their good times. Their memories. Their life on Kodak paper.
The sad reality though was that all of this meant so little to those who came after. In addition to the photos were the knickknacks and assorted flotsam of someone’s life. Meaningful to them but not to their survivors.
I thought myself hardened to all of this. But in the past week much of the lives my In-laws was cast to the fate of the trash man. Yes the photo albums were saved and will be pasted on to future generations for safe keeping and keeping memories alive for the future generations. Many of the knickknacks we sold for cents on the memory in a hastily thrown together yard sale, while the leftovers were thrown into the dumpster.
It’s very hard to think about the little things we accumulate during our lives as being only precious to us during our lives and not to anyone else. So one must sit back and really think hard what our children would save and throw away when it’s our time to go. Life has become a quest for material belongings and in the end you can’t take them with you except for a box of Oreo cookies, a can of root beer and Mr. Met. So with that in mind why do we obsess over things in our lives that in the end are bound for the trash heap of life?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Dad
His friends called him “Rick”, people in the community called him, “Judge”, and we simply called him “Dad”, “Grandfather”, or “Great-Grandfather”. His late wife often referred to him as “HUBERT!!!” Usually as a sign that things were getting off the subject and needed to grounded back to a more austere level.
He was a brother, uncle, father, husband, and a son. His abiding presence always strove for family harmony and mutual respect. Always fast with a suggestion or another way of looking at a subject or problem, he would let it be known what he thought. Sometimes he wouldn’t agree with some of our choices or decisions, but with time, they often were either accepted or debated on a more scaled back dimension.
Close at hand was his calendar. It was full of interesting facts, birthdays, baptisms, confirmations, anniversaries, addresses, phone numbers, and even deaths. A compendium of dates, names, relationships, and facts at his fingers. Tattered and well worn, one might refer to it as “Poor Hubert’s Almanac”. It was his version of today’s pocket electronic organizer.
Birthdays were very special to him. To some of us he might have sometimes seemed annoying or corny when he would call on our birthday to sing over the phone, “Happy Birthday”. Be at home, at work, school or on vacation, he’d hunt you down and make the connection. Morning, noon or night he kept trying till he got you. Always wishing well before we’d start out on a trip. His calls were as dependable as snow in the winter and rain in the spring. That call would come, and for a moment he’d make us feel special.
He lived a life of many lives. From a hometown boy who came home from an incredible war, as a decorated hero, to a distinguished jurist, he never lost sight of his roots and they were planted firmly in “Family” and “Community”.
His talents were many and he gave more of himself than most. From little league to basketball to his golf game his competitive spirit always sought to challenge those who might have wished to sit on the sidelines and just observe. His balancing of judicial matters was light years ahead of his time. Many a wayward youth had their lives touched and redirected by his compassion and understanding of their indiscretions and how the punishment would indeed fit the offense. His use of community service illustrated that he truly was a forward thinker who challenged the status quo.
His gifts to us all were generous and many and given from the heart. His desire for his children and their family’s to have a better quality of life was at the forefront of his largesse. Wanting only for us all to live, love, respect, and appreciate each other were at the core of the wisdom he shared with us over the years.
The loss of his wife sixteen years ago was a devastating blow to all of us, especially dad. He never lost his love for her and her loss seemed to intensify and drive home his message about family, love and respect for each other.
As time went on, the summers in New York and winters in Arizona Dad began age. With his advancing years his health would cause us concern. The change in climate twice each year was almost certain to bring about some illness. But true to form, his tenacity enabled him to over come the set back and it powered his existence. It almost seemed he was going to out live us all.
So it was with great disbelief when I received the call on Tuesday afternoon from the Kingston Police Department that Dad had a heart attack while driving and caused an auto accident. I quickly called my wife Sue and daughter Jennifer. They went directly to his bedside.
Phone calls were made, family members were contacted and time and life hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity. Hours turned into days as his children and family members came to his bedside. Then the call came at 1:15 on Friday Morning that Dad was going home. Minutes later he departed. He finally found the peace, love and happiness he would always write on greeting cards.
While he is no longer here to share in our trials, tribulations, and accomplishments we can take solace in the love, patience and generosity he instilled in our hearts. His legacy is living in us all.
As dad would sign off on birthday and anniversary cards, “With warmest regards. Much love, peace, happiness and respect to you.” He will be missed. Good bye Dad. We all love you and miss you.
He was a brother, uncle, father, husband, and a son. His abiding presence always strove for family harmony and mutual respect. Always fast with a suggestion or another way of looking at a subject or problem, he would let it be known what he thought. Sometimes he wouldn’t agree with some of our choices or decisions, but with time, they often were either accepted or debated on a more scaled back dimension.
Close at hand was his calendar. It was full of interesting facts, birthdays, baptisms, confirmations, anniversaries, addresses, phone numbers, and even deaths. A compendium of dates, names, relationships, and facts at his fingers. Tattered and well worn, one might refer to it as “Poor Hubert’s Almanac”. It was his version of today’s pocket electronic organizer.
Birthdays were very special to him. To some of us he might have sometimes seemed annoying or corny when he would call on our birthday to sing over the phone, “Happy Birthday”. Be at home, at work, school or on vacation, he’d hunt you down and make the connection. Morning, noon or night he kept trying till he got you. Always wishing well before we’d start out on a trip. His calls were as dependable as snow in the winter and rain in the spring. That call would come, and for a moment he’d make us feel special.
He lived a life of many lives. From a hometown boy who came home from an incredible war, as a decorated hero, to a distinguished jurist, he never lost sight of his roots and they were planted firmly in “Family” and “Community”.
His talents were many and he gave more of himself than most. From little league to basketball to his golf game his competitive spirit always sought to challenge those who might have wished to sit on the sidelines and just observe. His balancing of judicial matters was light years ahead of his time. Many a wayward youth had their lives touched and redirected by his compassion and understanding of their indiscretions and how the punishment would indeed fit the offense. His use of community service illustrated that he truly was a forward thinker who challenged the status quo.
His gifts to us all were generous and many and given from the heart. His desire for his children and their family’s to have a better quality of life was at the forefront of his largesse. Wanting only for us all to live, love, respect, and appreciate each other were at the core of the wisdom he shared with us over the years.
The loss of his wife sixteen years ago was a devastating blow to all of us, especially dad. He never lost his love for her and her loss seemed to intensify and drive home his message about family, love and respect for each other.
As time went on, the summers in New York and winters in Arizona Dad began age. With his advancing years his health would cause us concern. The change in climate twice each year was almost certain to bring about some illness. But true to form, his tenacity enabled him to over come the set back and it powered his existence. It almost seemed he was going to out live us all.
So it was with great disbelief when I received the call on Tuesday afternoon from the Kingston Police Department that Dad had a heart attack while driving and caused an auto accident. I quickly called my wife Sue and daughter Jennifer. They went directly to his bedside.
Phone calls were made, family members were contacted and time and life hung in the air for what seemed like an eternity. Hours turned into days as his children and family members came to his bedside. Then the call came at 1:15 on Friday Morning that Dad was going home. Minutes later he departed. He finally found the peace, love and happiness he would always write on greeting cards.
While he is no longer here to share in our trials, tribulations, and accomplishments we can take solace in the love, patience and generosity he instilled in our hearts. His legacy is living in us all.
As dad would sign off on birthday and anniversary cards, “With warmest regards. Much love, peace, happiness and respect to you.” He will be missed. Good bye Dad. We all love you and miss you.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Stimulate This!
It's been awhile since I've posted a short novella, but I've sort of been busy. With the economy in the toilet people are not throwing away as much as they did in the past and the winter being one for the books, business has been at best slow.
While all our elected officials can do is urinate away our, our children's and our children's children's future, the small business owner is left to fend for them self. No stimuli here. No TARP money. Nothing, except nuisance taxes and greater scrutiny over business operations. The bureaucracy and the computer age combined with the outsourcing to the other side of the world can leave one speechless. Common sense, civility, and that down home touch is gone. I dam near piss in my pants laughing when I get a customer service representative on the phone calling them self "Debbie" in that thick accent from India. I've made it sort of a game when I get these folks on the phone. They can't think on their feet or deviate from their script. It is just like talking to an automaton.
So where is this going. On Friday the 13th of this month I arrived at work about 7:30 in the morning. I've been going to this same place for the past 15 years. Something just didn't look right. There, inside the facility where my office stood, was a pile of buring and smoking debris. I stood for a moment in disbelief then called Fire Control. I identified myself and then asked if the local Fire Department had any calls the previous night for a structure fire. I was informed that there were no incidents reported or responded to. I then informed Fire Control to dispatch the local Fire Department to my location for a structure fire.
Within minutes, which for those who have shared this experience can seem like years, the local fire department arrived. If you ever want to see how much you can get done in a short period of time, call the fire department and then count the seconds as they respond and do somethings like move trucks, excavators, loaders etc. out of the way. It's amazing!
Several trucks responded but many were turned away. Only one was enough. Before water was put on the fire the local county arson task force responded. Standing on the outside of the burning pit of hot coals, enough to roast a good sized pig, we surveyed what was left and what was missing. Then the water was applied and the fire was out. Not really, it still cooked for two days after.
Our computer, fax machine, credit card terminal, phones, digital scale reader and many other things were stolen. The fire was just the final insult. I'm really mad about the fact that I had a high score on the game of "Mu Shu". Over 375 consecutive games won.
So with the embers cool, the investigations done, we cleared the site and rebuilt within a week. But in the meantime I had to deal with banks, insurance companies, the board of health, the state, the police and every vendor and creditor under the sun explaining to "Lucy" what happened and what I lost and need from them.
Phone trees that lead you to India and Pakistan or some other exotic cauldron of the abyss coupled with selecting a language option are enough to push an already overloaded and over worked individual past the edge. Ever notice how those phone trees never have the exact selection you're looking for? I just keep pushing the "0" key until the system shorts out and I get a live person on the phone or the system shuts down.
So after a week and a half of going though this crap I feel really Stimulated!
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Are We In Flushing?
It’s been a few weeks since the Florida trip. Emily was in hog heaven at Disney. What kid her age wouldn’t be after tons of advertising and exposure to the “Disney Experience?” This was my third trip to the Magic Kingdom and it was different this time. I got to step back and really look at what was being presented. It’s amazing.
In this day of hyper inflated costs the airline tickets were the real bargain in this mix. Three of us flew from Albany to Orlando for about $75 less than the admission to the parks. It just kills me to pay what they want for these “Amusement Parks”.
Once inside the park I had a strange connection to the past. An almost Déjà vu experience. Yea, we’d been here before and also to the park in California a few times. But this time it was a closer experience. Something from my childhood. I couldn’t quite pin it down until I got home and studied the situation. Suddenly it hit me. It’s 1964 / 1965 all over again! The crowds, the overpriced food, the cattle stalls, the long waits for a short unsatisfying ride or attraction. Were we at the Worlds Fair or Disney? The line begins to blur.
At the time of the 1964 / 1965 Worlds Fair Disney was a huge driving force in many of the exibits and features of the Fair. Here is where the "audio-animatronics," was introduced. Remember Lincoln at the Illinois pavilion? Or how about the largest collection of animated figures at the time and for many years later, “It’s a Small World”. That nauseating song that plays over and over again driving the hardest core criminal to seek solitary confinement. This Pepsi Pavilion exhibit was dismantled and shipped to Anaheim for Disneyland and there is sits with it’s evil twin in Florida.
Sinclair Oil gave us the Dinoland exhibit which also went west to the Disneyland railroad. General Electric and Ford also used the "audio-animatronics," formula for their pavilions. General Motors even asked Disney to design their exhibits but Disney said no, then someone got their ass chewed at Disney and the rest, as they say is history.
As the Worlds Fair closed, and failed, discussion ensued whereas Flushing Meadows Park would be converted to an east coast “Disneyland”. Imagine that, Mickey, Minnie and the gang in Queens! “Shal-la-ka-zoola!
But instead much of the 1964 / 1965 experience was packed up and sent to California and Florida where it lives to this day. Epcot is the closest thing to a permanent Worlds Fair we have.
So if you enter into the Magic Kingdom beware of Déjà vu. Unless you were born after 1965. Otherwise you’ll be suffering from Vuja De. You know, the feeling you’ve never been there before.
In this day of hyper inflated costs the airline tickets were the real bargain in this mix. Three of us flew from Albany to Orlando for about $75 less than the admission to the parks. It just kills me to pay what they want for these “Amusement Parks”.
Once inside the park I had a strange connection to the past. An almost Déjà vu experience. Yea, we’d been here before and also to the park in California a few times. But this time it was a closer experience. Something from my childhood. I couldn’t quite pin it down until I got home and studied the situation. Suddenly it hit me. It’s 1964 / 1965 all over again! The crowds, the overpriced food, the cattle stalls, the long waits for a short unsatisfying ride or attraction. Were we at the Worlds Fair or Disney? The line begins to blur.
At the time of the 1964 / 1965 Worlds Fair Disney was a huge driving force in many of the exibits and features of the Fair. Here is where the "audio-animatronics," was introduced. Remember Lincoln at the Illinois pavilion? Or how about the largest collection of animated figures at the time and for many years later, “It’s a Small World”. That nauseating song that plays over and over again driving the hardest core criminal to seek solitary confinement. This Pepsi Pavilion exhibit was dismantled and shipped to Anaheim for Disneyland and there is sits with it’s evil twin in Florida.
Sinclair Oil gave us the Dinoland exhibit which also went west to the Disneyland railroad. General Electric and Ford also used the "audio-animatronics," formula for their pavilions. General Motors even asked Disney to design their exhibits but Disney said no, then someone got their ass chewed at Disney and the rest, as they say is history.
As the Worlds Fair closed, and failed, discussion ensued whereas Flushing Meadows Park would be converted to an east coast “Disneyland”. Imagine that, Mickey, Minnie and the gang in Queens! “Shal-la-ka-zoola!
But instead much of the 1964 / 1965 experience was packed up and sent to California and Florida where it lives to this day. Epcot is the closest thing to a permanent Worlds Fair we have.
So if you enter into the Magic Kingdom beware of Déjà vu. Unless you were born after 1965. Otherwise you’ll be suffering from Vuja De. You know, the feeling you’ve never been there before.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
I'll Take Legal Breifs for $1,000
Being in the solid waste industry you're constantly under the scrutiny of the various police agencies. The local cops, always looking for you to roll through that stop sign, or be caught talking on your cell phone. The State police trying to catch you speeding or out of date inspection. The State Police DOT unit, now these guys are the ultimate. They control any vehicle on the road over 10,000 lbs or greater. They can give out more tickets on one inspection than scalpers have at a big name rock concert. But let's save the best for last; the Conservation Officer.
In the old days these folks were the game wardens. But through a series of political moves this once hidden constabulary of the woods became a police force in its own right. Bag of garbage in the back of your pick up truck, untarped load, $1,500 fine. Rain water dripping from an empty roll off container on a miserable rainy day, illegal discharge of leachate, untold fines and penalties. Maybe even scrubbing the roads with a toothbrush.
Several years ago I was involved in performing closure activities at two local landfills. I brought in wood chips for soil stabilization and out of the blue here's this Conservation Officer with her ticket book. Illegal Dumping! Pleads fell on deaf ears, the Conservation Department, who authorized the use of the wood chips back peddled so fast they could have beat Lance Armstrong going backwards. In the short, I spent $5,000 and two years of my life in court only to be exonerated. Not Guilty!
Fast forward many years. Last February this same officer came into our Plattekill facility and started writing paper. Imagine being ticketed for operating a transfer station without a permit at a permitted transfer station. Go Figure. This is one for the legal scholars to muse over and debate. September rolls around and it's finally court time. My lawyer can't peice this together let alone follow the logic train on this thought process. So before the Judge we go and in a few short sentences of legal mumbo jumbo, a few special incantations and just like Emeril says, "BAM!" case dismissed. Great! Wonderful! But it's not over!
A few weeks later the same officer shows up and this time she's climbing all over my trucks, taking pictures, writing notes, filling out forms, taking measurements. It was almost like Alice's Restaurant.
On Friday December 19 the other shoe dropped. The officer served me with a criminal summons, citing the same charges. Here we go again. So January 5 I went before the bar again. This time the officer provided all of those charts, graphs, illustrations and alike to the court. My lawyer looked at the overwhelming preponderance of details of criminal activity and she couldn't believe it. It was the same case but in greater detail. Same dates, times, locations etc. The officer was seeking a "do over." Don't win the first time, let's try the best two out of three. A few more incantations and, enter Emeril from the side and "BAM! Case dismissed! This time the Judge cited Double Jeopardy attached.
Imagine that, a television program saving my butt in court. Thanks Alex!
In the old days these folks were the game wardens. But through a series of political moves this once hidden constabulary of the woods became a police force in its own right. Bag of garbage in the back of your pick up truck, untarped load, $1,500 fine. Rain water dripping from an empty roll off container on a miserable rainy day, illegal discharge of leachate, untold fines and penalties. Maybe even scrubbing the roads with a toothbrush.
Several years ago I was involved in performing closure activities at two local landfills. I brought in wood chips for soil stabilization and out of the blue here's this Conservation Officer with her ticket book. Illegal Dumping! Pleads fell on deaf ears, the Conservation Department, who authorized the use of the wood chips back peddled so fast they could have beat Lance Armstrong going backwards. In the short, I spent $5,000 and two years of my life in court only to be exonerated. Not Guilty!
Fast forward many years. Last February this same officer came into our Plattekill facility and started writing paper. Imagine being ticketed for operating a transfer station without a permit at a permitted transfer station. Go Figure. This is one for the legal scholars to muse over and debate. September rolls around and it's finally court time. My lawyer can't peice this together let alone follow the logic train on this thought process. So before the Judge we go and in a few short sentences of legal mumbo jumbo, a few special incantations and just like Emeril says, "BAM!" case dismissed. Great! Wonderful! But it's not over!
A few weeks later the same officer shows up and this time she's climbing all over my trucks, taking pictures, writing notes, filling out forms, taking measurements. It was almost like Alice's Restaurant.
On Friday December 19 the other shoe dropped. The officer served me with a criminal summons, citing the same charges. Here we go again. So January 5 I went before the bar again. This time the officer provided all of those charts, graphs, illustrations and alike to the court. My lawyer looked at the overwhelming preponderance of details of criminal activity and she couldn't believe it. It was the same case but in greater detail. Same dates, times, locations etc. The officer was seeking a "do over." Don't win the first time, let's try the best two out of three. A few more incantations and, enter Emeril from the side and "BAM! Case dismissed! This time the Judge cited Double Jeopardy attached.
Imagine that, a television program saving my butt in court. Thanks Alex!
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