Time to Move On

In January of 2013, I entered into a relationship with a woman. In all fairness to her, I discouraged the developing of any serious feelings. That doesn't work however because the feelings show up when they want to. It was becoming obvious to me that she was developing feelings along the way, and, truth be told, so was I. And it scared me. She started withdrawing from me, and I let it happen. Then one day on Facebook I see that she is another relationship with someone else. Her and I had agreed to be exclusive, so I felt betrayed. I called her and was told that the man, after only two dates, had posted that without her knowledge. That is a big red flag demonstrating 1) a total lack of respect for the woman 2) a large degree of immaturity and 3) a sign of deep emotional troubles. One woman I mentioned this to said "He's a psycho. Tell your friend to run." Others weren't as vehement, but the thread of mental issues ran through all their comments.

My ex-girlfriend is a very bright, educated woman. I asked her where we went wrong and she told me it was because I didn't express my emotions. She was right. So I expressed them for her in text, phone calls, poetry and even a song. Nothing. I have a couple of very intelligent women who are friends of mine, and they both have a wealth of knowledge when it comes to human behaviors. Both asked me about my ex's earlier relationships. I said that she had multiple relationships with abusive drunks. They asked if her new boyfriend drank. I looked at his Facebook page, and every post was stating that he was at a bar, or a restaurant with a bar. Then they asked me if he was violent. I said a friend contacted me who had worked with him and he sent me a link to an article relating the story of the boyfriend's arrest for Assault with a Dangerous Weapon, and Intimidating a witness, which means this wasn't the first case he's involved in. So the answer is yes, he's violent. Then both of my friends dropped the same bombshell on me. My ex-girlfriend is the problem.

They explained to me that some woman have a pathological need to be abused. Something in their background makes them confuse abusive behavior with love. And when they leave one relationship with an abuser, they latch onto the next one. It's a vicious cycle for them. Both my friends told me the same thing. You're too good for her. You're not an abusive drunk.

My intelligence tells me they're right. And I can probably list ten reasons why I shouldn't be with her. But a part of me still loves her, although that part dwindles more every day. I feel like I'm watching a friend standing on the railroad tracks, and the train is coming, but they won't listen to my warnings. I feel so helpless. But the bible says the good Lord helps those who help themselves, and she doesn't. She just keeps putting herself in bad situations. You know, when a woman has a history of making bad choices and she chooses someone else over you, she has paid you a compliment. I don't know if I'm too good for her, but I know I treated her very well. Apparently that isn't what she wants. She wants a guy who drinks, get abusive with her animals, brags constantly on Facebook about what bar he's bringing her to tonight and then brags to his co-workers on Monday about things that never happened. That's how dangerous predators work...they say and do the things the woman wants to lure her into their web. Once she is ensconced in the relationship, the abuse starts.

My ex either doesn't see this, or worse yet, it's what she wants. That is tragically sad.

I am literally ill over this situation, but I can't put myself through this anymore. No matter how much love I feel for her, I have to get her out of my life.I can't be around self-destructive people, and everything her recent behavior tells me is that she is one. I hope and pray nothing bad happens to her, but I know it will. Unless she chooses to stop this vicious cycle. And when she wants a loyal, devoted, caring, respectful and loving man in her life, well, maybe I'll be available. Unless some really smart woman comes along and makes the lightning strike me....

Try to help your friends. But it's not your fault if they won't accept it. And take care.

Memorial Day Thoughts

It's been a while since I've written on this blog, but so much has happened to me that, frankly, I just haven't had the time, or in some cases, the desire to write. But this is Memorial Day weekend. And I feel the need to say something about that, so here I go.

I never enlisted in the military. Mine was the first generation of teenagers who needn't fear the draft, and so I had no intention of taking orders from guys with bad haircuts and worse temperaments. Besides, I had seen up close what happens to young men who go to war, and those images still haunt me occasionally.

When you're a young boy, your hero is either your father or your big brother. Since I never lived with my Dad, my big brother, who is 13 years older than me, was, and still is, my hero. We had cousins who grew up with him and I always thought they were big and tough and cool. This was in the late 60's. One of my cousins got drafted and ended up in the Marine Corps. I remember the long car ride from Massachusetts down to Camp LeJuene to see his graduation. When I saw my big cousin in his dress Blues, I thought he was a super-hero. I couldn't wait to turn 18 so I could join the Corps and be a Marine like him.

He got shipped off to Vietnam. As a child, I didn't grasp the concept of war. Every night Walter Cronkite would be on the news giving us the score, like a sports contest. "American troops confirmed 113 Vietnamese dead. We lost 39". That day, we won 113-39. That was how my undeveloped mind thought of war.

Until my cousin came home from his first tour. Boy, did my attitude change fast.

We all gathered at his parents house. He was telling us the stories of his time over there. He took out his combat bayonet and sliced a piece of paper with no effort. I had never seen a big knife like that so sharp. What happened next is emblazoned in my memory forever. He took out a photo album full of pictures from Vietnam. Most of the pictures were of his kills. Vietnamese soldiers, some almost inhuman in appearance, bloodied and dead. Some in pieces. All in color. And my 8 year-old brain was absorbing this. I decided I NEVER wanted to go to war. EVER!

My cousin never was the same smiling, happy-go-lucky guy he was before the war. It changed him. Hell, just looking at those pictures changed me, and I wasn't even seeing this stuff first hand. I could now see how war destroys everything it touches.

From then on, when I would see a Memorial Day parade, I'd think about my cousin. My Dad, and a few uncles, fought in WWII. All had some lingering effect of the war, be it physical, emotional or mental. These brave men and women went to war for their country. It was an experience that scars them permanently. Part of my job is transporting veterans to VA hospitals. The stories they tell cover a wide range of emotions, but when they are silent, staring out the window, the look in their eyes tells you far more than words could ever hope to express. You see the pain, the suffering and the loss of their dear friends that this evil called war brings to them. For them the battle never ends.

This Memorial Day, while you're rushing around getting ready for your BBQ, please take a moment to think of those who we are supposed to be honoring this weekend. The saying goes "All gave some, some gave all".

Don't you think we should give them the respect they have earned?

Be good to each other an take care my friends.

Learning from my past, not reliving it.

Okay, so recently I joined the DDP Yoga program. This is Day 7 of the DDP Yoga program for me. That means it has outlasted about 80% of the diet/exercise programs I've ever been on. You see, I have been overweight most of my 52 years and was just repeating the same mistakes over and over. At the very least my weight gain was due to unhealthy eating habits. For 12 years of my life, I was attempting suicide via food. And I almost succeeded.

I remember the day I hit rock bottom vividly. For the first time in a couple of years I visited my primary care doctor. He put me on the office scale.It had a 350 pound capacity, and didn't even pretend to move. He told me to follow him. He led me to a back room of the building and told me to stand on a FREIGHT SCALE! I was mortified. When I saw 383 lbs (I'm 5'7") on the readout I almost collapsed. How did this happen?

I got on a diet, lost some weight, but when I was feeling a little better I slacked off. It was a vicious cycle. I would lose weight, feel better, then put the weight back on plus more. For every 50 lbs I lost I put 75 back on.Next trip to the freight scale said 410. My Dr told me if I wasn't going to try he wasn't going to waste his time with me. I was shocked at first, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized he was right. He had other patients who actually wanted his help. I apparently didn't.

That was 10 years ago. Since then I've yo-yo dieted down to the 325-335 range. I lost some weight when I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. I lost some more when I was diagnosed with diabetes. I lost a little bit after my heart attack, but hit a plateau. Dieting alone wasn't working anymore. I needed to exercise. But I haven't been able to find an exercise program that a) works and b) I can do without hurting myself. Even walking a half hour a day was too painful to do everyday because of knees I have destroyed over the years. DDP Yoga solves that for me. It gets my heart rate up, gets me sweating, sends energy through my muscles but it doesn't hurt! There is NO IMPACT!

My past was bad eating habits. It was living a sedentary lifestyle. It was depression, self-pity and even suicidal thoughts. NO MORE! I am taking control of my life with the help of DDP Yoga. I have learned from my past mistakes and will not repeat them. I won't eat unhealthy foods. I won't be complacent about exercise. I won't be negative about my life and my future.I won't live in my past, I will learn from it and make my future ten times better! I will get healthy, fit and toned! Watch me.....

The "Liberal" media- When did facts become less important than agendas?

Hello readers. I apologize for my extended absence from this blog. I have been experiencing life. And to be quite frank, I was getting tired of arguing with some of my so-called “Liberal” friends who didn’t like the fact I constantly pointed out their hypocrisy.

So now I would like to point out some the outright LIES the "Liberal" media uses, not to defend Obama's actions, because most are indefensible, , but to STILL try to blame President Bush for everything happening now, five years after he left office. That is kind of funny, because the "Liberals" all say we shouldn’t talk about Benghazi, due to the fact that was SO LONG ago. Yeah, the “Liberals” think it’s okay to blame President Bush for Obama’s failures 5 years after the fact, but an attack 8 months ago is ancient history. Right.

The facts are now overwhelming that that the members of Obama’s regime have lied to Congress, the American people, and the families of the 4 victims of the consulate attack. The "Liberal media, instead of simply reporting facts and happenings, hides truthes that are not in line with their agenda. They instead use made up charts with questionable “facts” at best, outright fabrications in some instances, to say that things were worse when President Bush was in charge. Here is a chart the “Liberals” are spreading among their minions as “proof”:

Let’s examine the facts about these claims, remembering that all four victims in Libya were American staffers who had requested help and were denied that help from both from Secretary Clinton and Commander-in Chief Obama, who ordered the rescuers to stand down, effectively letting those people die unnecessarily.

June 14, 2002, U.S. consulate in Karachi, Pakistan - Suicide bomber kills 12 and injures 51. (1) Unlike Benghazi, this attack happened outside the walls of the consulate and yes, twelve people were killed and 51 injured, all Pakistanis. I cannot find any reports of Americans being killed or injured. And the graphic is factually wrong because there were actually 12 killed, not 10.

July 30, 2004, U.S. embassy in Taskkent, Uzbekistan - Suicide bomber kills two. (2) Again, two local Uzbek policemen were killed outside the embassy of Israel as bombs went of at the Israeli and American consulates. US and Israeli officials said none of their staff were among the casualties.

December 6, 2004, U.S. consulate in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia - Militants stormed and occupied perimeter wall. Five killed, 10 wounded. (3) This is the only attack similar to Libya in that the walls of the consulate were breached and people inside were killed. In Libya, it was 4 Americans. In Saudi Arabia, of the 9 people killed (yes, the “Liberal’s” graphic is wrong again), NONE WERE AMERICANS. And the rest of the staff were rescued by a military operation, while Obama rescinded the rescue order.

September 12, 2006, U.S. embassy in Damascus, Syria - Gunmen attacked embassy with grenades, automatic weapons, and a car bomb (though second truck bomb failed to detonate). One killed and 13 wounded. (4) Again, this attack was outside the walls, NO Americans killed or injured, and the graphic is wrong about the number of dead, who were all attackers.

January 12, 2007, U.S. embassy in Athens, Greece - A rocket-propelled grenade was fired at the embassy building. No one was injured. (5) How this is similar to Benghazi I have no idea. A single grenade was launched into an empty embassy building during early morning hours.

March 18, 2008, U.S. embassy in Sana’a, Yemen - Mortar attack misses embassy, hits nearby girls’ school instead. (6) Though there are reports by liberal websites of 2 being killed at a girl's school near this embassy when mortars were fired at it but missed, the official US Embassy website in Yemen says that there were only injuries.

September 17, 2008, U.S. embassy in Sana’a, Yemen - Militants dressed as policemen attacked the embassy with RPGs, rifles, grenades and car bombs. Six Yemeni soldiers and seven civilians were killed. Sixteen more were injured. (7) Wow. I guess the “Liberals” don’t pay attention to Yemen. Two stories, both wrong. The top story says 2 dead. There were actually none killed, only injured. On the second one, they say 10 killed. Again, way off. Actual count was 19, including 6 attackers. But NO AMERICANS.

February 22, 2008 - Rioters set fire to US Embassy in Serbia (8) Rioters did break into the embassy in this attack and one person was killed, a rioter when they got trapped in a part of one building they had set on fire. All American personnel were safe and accounted for.

This is the basic problem I have with the “Liberal” media….they make up facts to back up an agenda based on political beliefs rather than journalistic integrity. Uncited "facts" appear in blogs by "Liberals", and the media runs with these opinions as fact.Edwin Murrow and Walter Cronkite are tumultuously spinning at high RPMs seeing what is happening to their beloved profession. If you actually watched the Benghazi hearings, you learned the following facts:

• They knew IN ADVANCE something was going to happen.
• They REFUSED to acknowledge requests for additional security.
• When the attack was happening, they REFUSED to inform the unit best suited to handle the situation.
• They ORDERED a nearby unit, ready to go rescue the Americans, to STAND DOWN, effectively sentencing those four Americans to die.
• In the aftermath, they have lied on TV, lied to the press, lied to the American people and lied to Congress to attempt to cover this up.

No opinion there. No commenting on how past Presidents compare to this administration. Just facts, mostly from people who were there.

President Nixon was threatened with impeachment and was forced to resign when he looked away as some men stole papers from a hotel room. No one was hurt, or killed in that.

Obama ORDERED that these men were to die by telling a team of rescuers who were heading to the chopper, to STAND DOWN.

The blood of these four AMERICANS is on the hands of Obama, Clinton et al.

And THAT is fact.

Take care my friends.

References

(1) June 14, 2002
(2) July 30, 2004
(3) December 6, 2004
(4) September 12, 2006
(5) January 12, 2007
(6) March 18, 2008
(7) September 17, 2008
(8) February 22, 2008"

A Family Secret

I am not a child. At least not chronologically. I was born during the JFK administration. You do the math. And, just recently, I found out that I am not the person I thought I was my entire life. You see, I found out that the man listed on my Birth Certificate may not actually be my father.

This discovery came about during an investigation into a different family mystery. I had grown my entire childhood under the impression that I had only one surviving grandparent, my Me mere. It wasn't until two years ago I learned her husband, my pep ere, didn't pass until I was six.

Six was a strange year for me. It was the first time I met my father. I'll call him "E" in this blog. It was the last time I saw the man who was around our house while I was growing up. I'll call him "F". My Mom brought me to my Me mere's house, where my dad lived. My six year-old brain couldn't grasp this concept. Anyhow, I digress.

Upon the discovery that Pep ere was alive until I was six, I wondered why I wasn't allowed to know him. By this time, everyone I could think of to ask was gone...except my older brother. And he wasn't saying. Fast forward.

It was during a conversation with another relative I had not seen in a long time that I was told the reason I was never introduced to my pep ere. He would have told me that "E', his son, was not my father. My father was "F".

I was stunned. So was the relative. They were under the impression I had known already. This gave me many questions to answer.

I did some research on the internet. "F" had passed away in 2006. 76 Years-old...the same age as my mom when she passed. "F" had two daughters...whoa! I have two half-sisters? And then it hit me...my big brother is just my half-brother! I was overwhelmed at this thought. You see, in my eyes my big brother (13 years older) was my father figure. He was the one who bought me my first glove. He was the one who bought me my first ten-speed bike. He was the one who took me deep-sea fishing. He took me everywhere, and treated me like gold. I've always said I hit the brother Jackpot with him. And now I find he might only be my half-brother? I had an OMG moment....did he KNOW?

I finally got the nerve to ask him. He said he didn't know anything about it. He asked me what I thought. I said its "E"'s name on my birth certificate. I'll go with that. Then a couple days ago I found an old picture of "F". It is more than obvious that "F" was my dad, not "E". I started thinking about things that might change because of this knowledge. There are many questions:

• Did my brother really know?
• Did "F"'s daughters know about me?
• Why didn't my mom ever tell me the truth?
• Did "F" have medical history I should know about?
• What nationality am I?
• Are my sisters alive?
• If so, where are they?
• Would they want to meet me?

Then I asked myself one last question.

Does this change my relationship with my big brother?

One of my Facebook friends posted a picture. The timing couldn't have been better.

"Family is not about blood. It's about who is willing to hold your hand when you need it most." The words struck me like a sledgehammer in my chest. You see, it doesn't matter if "E" or "F" is my father...neither one was there for me at anytime in my life. Sure one of them is my biological dad, but the man who has gone above and beyond the call for over and over again, the man who cheered me on when I performed onstage, who brought to and from the hospitals when I had no one, the man who has always, and I mean ALWAYS been the stabilizing influence in my life, the one person was, and still is, "...willing to hold your hand when you need it most" is my brother. I am tremendously blessed to have him in my life. To have him...in my family.

Take care my friends.

The Experiment

When I was a very young child, I was surrounded by music. My Mom would listen incessantly to her album collection. Her choice of music was clearly delineated: Elvis and Country Western. The pictures on the album covers always stuck in my mind. Men wore bedazzled suits and often had decorated guitars, women wore frilly dresses and had big hair. The music had that whiny country twang, and even the instruments sounded like they were crying.

My babysitters would bring their 45 record collections to the house when sitting me. It was on these occasions I would hear The Beatles, Chuck Berry, and all the bands of the British Invasion period. My babysitter and her sister would dance frantically while I cowered in horror under the coffee table. Ah, the memories.

I had a teen-aged cousin who had an electric guitar...you had to say it that way so people knew you were cool. He would sit in my living room and play for hours. It was then I decided that one day, I too would play electric guitar, and be cool.

I probably started my songwriting at this point also. Because I didn't play any instruments yet, I would find instrumental versions of popular songs, or even just instrumental songs, like "Green Onion" by Booker T and the MGs, and write lyrics for them. As I got a little older, I would make up a melody in my head. Sometimes I would commit them to cassette, other times I'd just write them down. Most of the time, they were just forgotten.

As I got older I learned to play instruments. First was bass guitar, then piano and then guitar. Now I could create a whole song from scratch, and I did. Eventually, I decided to record my own 45, which I did in 1984. The two songs can be heard and/or purchased for download on several sites. I spent most of the next thirty years playing in clubs and at functions. And now, I am moving on to the next phase of my music life.

Now, so many years later, I have pretty much retired from playing live onstage, and have gotten back to my roots as a songwriter. On a whim, I decided to enter one of my songs into a songwriting competition. Let me say this...in Nashville, the mecca for songwriters, there are specific rules for writing hit songs. Knowing this, I submitted a song that broke many of the traditional rules. Why? I had heard that most songwriting contests are scams of one type or another. Oh sure, the prizes they promised were often legitimate, but the premise of the contest was usually fraudulent. I wanted to experience it on my own. So I intentionally sent in a song I knew shouldn't win.

Shortly after my entry, I got a letter with a ribbon in it...I had won the "Director's Award", which is only given to those who show the ability to be professional songwriters. Oh boy! I put the ribbon on my refrigerator. A week or so later, I got another letter offering me a "Songwriter Contract". Before I read the contract, I decided I would would try to anticipate what it would say. I figured there would be a length of time involved...maybe a year or two. I thought they would promise me to promote my songs to record companies and artists, in return for granting them exclusive license to my songs, of course with a percentage of earnings going directly to them. This is what I anticipated. Here is what I got, paraphrased: We will send you a newsletter every month for a year, and allow you to have us record your song for only $xxx for a guitar/vocal demo.

So this whole songwriting contest was just a ploy to get aspiring songwriters to use the sponsor's recording services. Oh, and the special price? Well nearly EVERY studio in Nashville charges the same price. The bottom line is this company will do nothing for me I can't do on my own. Except for the cool ribbon...

Caveat emptor, and Take care my friends.

What does it take to be a man?

After all of these years wandering around this vast planet, I have finally learned what it means to be a man. Let me tell you folks, it ain't easy.

Like many males, I grew up thinking that being a man meant you could run faster, jump higher, hit a ball farther, or climb a tree higher than all of my friends. But that was just being athletic, not being a man.

As I reached my teen and young adult years I thought being a man meant being able to drink more beers, stay up later, drive faster, or "score more chicks" than my friends. But that was just having immature fun, not being a man.

I came real close when I became a husband and father. I thought being a man meant working hard at a job I might not like, or selling a prized possession so I could pay a bill, or functioning every day although I was racked with pain in various areas of my body. And while some would call that being a man, I think that's just meeting one's responsibilities.

So, if none of these things is being a man, what is? I just figured it out within the last week. But first, a quick back-story.

Many of my friends and some readers of this blog know I have had some health issues in the last couple years. Last Thursday my primary care doctor told me flat out I have to lose weight now or I will die. Period. End of discussion. Her suggestion for dieting? If it tastes good, spit it out. So for the last week I have been substituting bland, healthy foods for the salty, sweet, fatty, tasty foods I love and crave. The other day, I faced a test the magnitude of which I have never experienced...a friend asked me to a Chinese Buffet.

Oh, the Chinese buffet. The attraction is undeniable. First, there is Chinese food. So many kinds of yummy goodness just waiting to cast its hazy satisfaction over you. Secondly, it's a buffet. All you can eat. For one low price. Even lower on Mondays. My ability to literally work up a sweat at a good buffet is legendary.

But this time, I heard someone speaking in my voice utter the word no. Who said that? Then I realized it was I who declined an invitation to the Holy Grail of overeaters everywhere. Could it be that finally, after years of threats and browbeating from multiple doctors, that the message had finally sunk in?

I know this. There are very few things in life I like more than the Chinese Buffet. And to say no because I am trying to save my health, well, that's the toughest thing I've ever done.

I guess now I know what being a man is. It's having the strength to deny yourself of one of life's greatest pleasures for the sake of the greater good. Self-sacrifice, as it were. Maybe I can't run as fast as I used to. Or throw a ball as far. Climbing trees? Surely you jest. I can't drink as much, need lots more sleep and can't get the young ladies like before either. But I can say no when push comes to shove. Welcome to Manhood.

Thanks for reading. Take care my friends.

Mother's Day Reflections-2012

Well friends, another Mother's day is upon us. Are you taking Mom out to dinner? Maybe you plan on bringing her flowers or some other gift. Perhaps a family activity is at the top of your list. Whatever it is, I'm sure Mom will love it. When I was little, I was raised by a single Mom. Granted, we never had much money, but I did what I could to give my Mom a happy Mother's Day. I had to use my ingenuity to come up with creative ideas for gifts I could make...cheaply. Mom had a collection of home-made cards from me. My cards were always unique. I would draw (poorly) some little scene on the front, and on the inside would be a little poem expressing a sentimental thought, just like the real cards you bought in the store. Mom always loved them. Of course, as a child, you don't know that you could give Mom a lint ball and she'd love that too. That's what Moms do. And that's why they are so special to us. I think those cards may have been the genesis for my songwriting. In my youth, before I could play any instruments, I would take an established melody and put my own lyrics to it. Today they call that R&B/Hip Hop. Who knew I was a trend setter? As I got older and learned to play some instruments, I started writing complete songs. When I went into a studio and recorded two of my original tunes my Mom was the most proud of me since I gave a discourse at our church when I was nine. That's another story. I told my Mom I would write a song for her one day. I'm great at procrastination. I should have done it a long time ago. Mom passed away in 1998. Many of you readers might know how I feel this weekend. Your friends are talking about the plans they have with their Moms, and you don't have any. You see a street vendor with flowers, and there is nobody to receive them. The local diner Mom loved is taking reservations for Mother's Day, but they won't seat just one. We all cope with our losses in different ways. But Mother's Day is especially tough. As for me, I'll find a quiet little spot, think about my Mom, and strum my guitar. Who knows. Maybe I'll finally write her song. Happy Mother's Day. Take care my friends.

Thanks for the memories...RIP Chief Jay Strongbow

Last week, a legend in the world of professional wrestling passed away. Chief Jay Strongbow was 83.

I grew up watching wrestling and stared in amazement as these magicians worked their craft in the squared circle. It represented the classic struggle of good vs. evil, and the characters were often larger than life.

I learned when I was about six that I am part Indian (Native American for the PC crowd). Once I knew that, I was filled with pride every time Chief would do his war dance. Like most kids watching, I wanted to be a wrestler one day.

Fast forward forty years. The scene: the 2011 Induction ceremony of the New England Pro Wrestling Hall of Fame. I was asked by my mentor in the wrestling business to give his introduction speech. As I stepped up to the podium, I looked down at the main table. Seated there was Rick Martel, Tito Santana, and my childhood hero, the Chief himself, Jay Strongbow. I have the video of my speech. I mentioned the impact Chief had on me as a young child. At one point, the camara angle changes and you see me standing at the podium, less than five feet from my hero. It is an image I will forever cherish.

Next year will be a very special year for me. You see, I have been informed that I am being inducted into the same Hall of Fame as my mentor, many of my friends, and my childhood idol. The honor is one that I never expected, or even thought was a possibility. I am humbled and oh so ever grateful.

Thanks for reading while I reminisce.
Take care my friends.

In Memory...

I was just cleaning up some old Facebook statuses when I came across one from this week last year. It simply read "RIP Lee, your time came too soon". I can't believe it has been a year already.

Lee and I met as we were growing up as members of a fundamentalist religion. When you're a young child, you are whatever religion your parents say you are. We attended meetings, bible studies and theocratic school together. Lee was always good for a laugh, and had a kind streak in him as wide as all outdoors. Like me, when he was old enough to decide for himself, he left the religion.

Lee took a job working in a VA hospital. This was typical of Lee to want to help others. The amazing thing was that Lee was not in favor of war. But his love of his fellow beings was more important than his dislike for what these people were part of. In the end, it was his caring for these soldiers that cost Lee his life. I can't say more for fear of violating some type of privacy statute.

I went to Lee's service, which was kind of surreal. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that someone so damn caring and good, let alone younger than me, was gone so soon. In the year since, I have lost a couple more close friends who were younger. It makes me think about my course of action in my life. Hopefully I'll learn how to be a better person.

Thanks for reading. And I hope that you all have someone in your life like Lee. If you do, cherish them. People like Lee are a treasure. It's a shame that too often we don't recognize it till it's too late.

Take care my friends.

My Latest Endeavor

When I first started playing a musical instrument back in high school, the road to fame and fortune was a long, arduous adventure to say the least. Hanging out at music stores hoping to find players to put a band together was cheaper than taking out a classified ad in the local paper, and you hoped someone had a garage or basement you could play in, hopefully with very patient parents.

Today, we have Craigslist which provides free classifieds, and reaches many more people. Social media has made it so much easier to promote bands. The countless hours passing out flyers has all but disappeared. Even I, an analog guy in a digital world, have jumped on board the social media bandwagon.

I am proud to introduce my own music fan page which you can visit here. You can access status updates, and purchase downloads from my store if you like. There are links to other informative sites as well. I hope you stop by, take a look, and maybe click the "Like" button. Better yet, share it with your friends. I appreciate it. I will keep you informed as to how it's going from time to time.

As always, take care my friends.

Today's observations.

When I first started writing this blog, I used to write quite often about the issue of politics. I would read an article, hear a news story on the radio, or see a post on Facebook from a friend, and then proceed to pontificate about it here on my blog. I found that this led to many ugly disagreements, and that it strained some important friendships, so I stopped. Yesterday the Supreme Court of the United States (SCOTUS) ended listening to three days of arguments on the issue of what has become known as Obamacare. It's purpose is to get everyone access to affordable health care.

I have sat back as an observer of the battle going on, and have become quite amused at how out of touch and totally ignorant arguments from both sides have gotten. Some of the analogies being put forward are so far-fetched that the best hollywood writers could never dream up such things. If it weren't for the fact that this is an important real life issue, this would be great comedy.

Another news item getting a great deal of attention is the Travyon Martin case. I knew it was getting out of hand when celebrities were tweeting the home address of the shooter, and others started tweeting the home address of the celebrity. And then I see on Facebook profile pictures of various people, safe and sound in their own homes, wearing a hoodie. That's all well and good, but some of these folks would NEVER be caught in public wearing one. And I dare say that some of these people, if they were walking down a dark street alone, and encountered someone matching Travyon's description in a hoodie, would cross the street. Or at least that would be their initial instinct. And that's okay, because instinct is natural...it doesn't make you racist.

But alas, I digress. I have decided to focus my creative energies towards my music. I have gotten some very good feedback from the two songs I recorded years ago. With the advances in technology, I can now write and record my songs at home, on this very computer. I am still learning how to use the software, but should be posting some demo versions of my songs soon. My hope is that one of my songs will attract the attention of a national act. In the meantime, please click on the music link to the left. If you like what you hear, please visit my reverbnation store, or look for my music on your favorite download sites like iTunes, eMusic, Zune and many others.

I'll be keeping in touch more regularly, so keep your eyes open.

Take care my friends.

A Tale of a Broken Heart

Last year, I had the pleasure of playing in a band for about four months. I was a little hesitant at first, because I was recovering from my second heart surgery. But after having six stents placed in my heart, I was feeling good and itching to play onstage again. Thanks to The Vegas Valentinos, I had that chance.

Things went well at first. The last month though, I noticed I was getting fatigued quicker. I was starting to get light-headed onstage. One night, I nearly passed out. The other band members approached one night and said they couldn't risk having a bass player who might pass out onstage. And I agreed. I told them I was glad they said something, because I am stubborn enough to have kept going till I dropped. I had physical issues I needed to address.

After each of my previous stent placement surgeries I always felt new again. I underwent a third surgery and got my seventh and eighth stents. I started a med regimen to help my cardiac situation. I started dieting. I then convinced myself I was ready to play in a band again. I was wrong.

Kenney Black hired me to play bass in his new band. It only took me a few weeks to realize I can't handle the physical demand of being in a band any longer. The damage I have to my heart is my own fault, and now I must face the consequences of neglecting my health all of these years. As much as I love playing live in front of a crowd, I have to face the fact that I can no longer do it.

I still plan on writing, recording, and promoting my music. But I can't see myself onstage anymore. And that breaks my heart.

Here is wishing all my friends, readers, and fans of my music good health.

Take care my friends. Please.

The Bane of the Music business...

I have played a musical instrument in a band setting since high school, a long time ago. The first bands were horrible. A group of teens just learning how to play their instruments, most of which were inferior copies of the quality brands, played through even cheaper quality amps. Long-suffering parents endured countless hours of listening to an electrical cacophony that would frighten the populace of most third world countries. But we were having the times of our lives, and nothing could have been better.

We dreamed of concert arenas and screaming fans chasing our limos. Tour busses and hotel rooms. Yup, we had all the dreams. Eventually, we all graduated from school, and for most, those rock and roll fantasies faded into the dusk of our youth, as we trudged forward into the land of grown-ups.

I, for one, joined a wedding band after high school so I could make some money from my playing. This was when I had my first encounters with a species of organisms that is the bane of musicians everywhere...Managerius Greedicus...the dreaded Greedy Manager.

Our band tried having a manager twice during our run. The first was another musician who basically gave us the crap gigs he didn't want to do. But, at least we were getting work, or so we rationalized it to ourselves. We finally reached the point where we were booking ourselves pretty solid, and didn't feel like paying the standard 10% to a manager, so we stopped taking his bookings.

The next manager schmoozed his way in. He took pro quality pictures of the band, and made glossy prints with our name on them. He even featured us at showcases. Then one night, one of the club owners he had booked us with refused to pay us. Our manager did nothing about it. So long manager.

My latest experience with a manager has been the worst. I got hired as a member of a band backing up a solo performer. He writes his own tunes, and performs them along with a selection of familiar cover tunes. The ad I answered on Craigslist stated the band had management. After a little research, I found that the management company was not a legal entity. The "owner" was a recovering addict who had a brief career as a stand-up comic. His website claimed to represent some regionally famous comedians, but no musical acts. When contacted, none of the people on the website said they worked for the guy. In short, he was a fraud. He made a video of a recording session, and used it to lure this performe into signing the most ridiculous contract ever seen.

The end result? After court hearings and such, this "manager" is still harassing this performer. The actions of this individual remind me of a petulant six-year old. You see, it boils down to this...those with talent, play. Those who don't manage. And if you can't manage? Then you try to ripoff people with ridiculous contracts.

I will never sign with a manager. Unless of course I can get....

Take care my friends.

PetePedia Music blog

To all my regular readers, I apologize for the length of my absence from this blog. Things have been very hectic in the last months, and I just haven't been able to write.

Please check out some of the links below to hear some of my original music. I appreciate it.


For those of you on iTunes: http://t.co/RqIlpffI

For those of you on eMusic: http://t.co/0w9bIehP

For those of you Zune suscribers: http://t.co/kD3E50tM

For those of you on Twitter: Pete Corbeil (@PeteCorbeil)

Thanks again. Take care my friends.

To hear my songs for FREE: www.reverbnation.com/petecorbeil

Another New Year

I have to apologize to my readers for not posting in quite a while. It seems that I have neglected writing about my thoughts on various topics because I have too busy experiencing life rather than merely observing it. So, here is my last blog for 2011, a very interesting year for me personally.

This year had its share of ups and downs, evidenced by the fact that five days in I already had a heart surgery. Apparently I have not mastered the healthy lifestyle regimen quite yet.

I managed to stay employed the entire year, so that's a good thing.

I started a new hobby- paranormal investigations. I was very skeptical at first, but some interesting evidence, and a couple of personal experiences, have lessened my skepticism somewhat.

I briefly resurrected my music career. I spent four months playing with The Vegas Valentinos, but had to quit due to health reasons.

I attended my first ever class reunion. What a great time. I am sorry I missed all the previous ones.

I had a second heart surgery in November. My Cardiologist is not too happy with me. I apologize for my stubbornness. Aries on a Taurus cusp you knotw. Can't help myself.

I did notice one big change this year. I had zero enthusiasm for any of my favorite holidays. Don't know what to make of that.

The best thing to happen to me this year? That's easy. After almost thirty years, I got to see and hug the most special person in my life during my teenaged years. Since then, nothing bad can possibly happen to me.

2012 is moments away. I'll go to work, get sick now and then, visit some cool places, make some music, work towards my next degree and just live life in general. I hope that I experience more good things than bad, and I hope my health improves, although that depends on me and me alone. After all is said and done, I hope all my new experiences make me a better person. It is a never-ending journey, the road to self-improvement. And I hope I keep moving forward on this journey.

Take care my friends.

Father's Day Thoughts

So today is Father's Day 2011. In some households, this is a minor holiday, where a "Happy Father's Day dad" and a less than perfect gift gift usually rule the day, In other households, it is a bigger deal, with maybe a celebration of some sort. In some households it might involve remembering a dad who has passed. On Facebook, it is a slew of Father's Day greetings getting posted on multiple walls. But Father's Day, in my house, is a rather uneventful, and meaningless day.

I never lived with my dad.I didn't even meet him until I was six. Even after our introduction, I only saw him a few times in my life, and all were negative experiences for me. So my perception of a dad was quite skewed from the start. I often thought dads might be like the ones you saw on TV, but the reality is those are few and far between. My dad was, simply put, not a likable person, and I hoped that I would not be like him.

When I had boys of my own, I was totally unprepared to be a dad. I tried to do the best I could with the tools I had, and admittedly, made a lot of mistakes. I immersed myself in my work, thinking that being a provider was sufficient enough. I was wrong. Unfortunately, mistakes when raising children tend to not be forgotten, and as I sit here composing this, it is early afternoon, and my phone has not rung yet. At least not from my boys. I expect one might call this evening, after his mom reminds him. But then again, maybe not.

My Facebook friends have wished me the best for today, and I politely thank them, but the fact is today means little to me. Remember how I said my dad was not likable? His final act was passing away on Father's Day. Nice guy, huh? So please forgive if I'm not all smiles today. It's just another day to me.

Take care my friends.

Hunting Ghosts, Finding Spirits

I have a friend who is fascinated with the ghost-hunting craze you see on TV. She has digital cameras, digital audio recorders, thermometers and all the basic ghost-hunter devices.

I am a skeptic. I have logic, and the inability to believe in things that I either can't see or explain logically. So she has taken it upon herself to make me a believer. Good luck with that.

I find myself trouncing around various "haunted" places in the area. Apparently, I live not far from the "Bridgewater Triangle", one of the most active areas in the country for paranormal activity. Our travels bring us to many old cemeteries. TOday was no different, yet it was.

We stopped at this small, out of the way burial ground in a remote part of a small town nearby. The stones were marked with dates from the 17 and 1800's. But something was different here. There were flags on the veterans' graves. Veterans of The Revolutionary War. I was taken aback.

Every Memorial Day, Veteran's Day, and Independence Day, we remember our fallen heroes. But here, in front of my eyes, I was standing in the final resting place of these brave men. And I was humbled.

It is so easy for us today to get on Facebook and rant about our leaders, the economy, the system of things, and everything else we see around us. Each one of us has our opinion about how things should be. But other than posting on Facebook, we do little else.

These men, who were struggling to build a life for their families and themselves, put their lives on the line for their beliefs. a bunch of farmers took on the greatest military force of the era...and won due to sheer determination and courage.

As I walked away contemplating these things, I turned around, staring at the little flags. And then I, a man who has never worn a military uniform, saluted these brave men. It just felt necessary.

I don't pretend to know what our forefathers meant or intended when they penned the Constitution, and greater minds than mine have argued, and still argue, its meanings. But I do know that these men were willing to give their lives for the nation that had yet to be born, and that's worth something.

I still don't believe in ghosts, but today, I encountered a spirit. I encountered the spirit of a group of people unhappy with the way things were, and the spirit of those willing to die to change things.

Think about that the next time you want to post to Facebook. Doesn't seem like all that much, does it?

Take care my friends.

The Resurrection

I used to play in a band in high school. You know, some kids with instruments who knew 3 or 4 chords and proceeded to spend countless hours butchering a group of songs that somehow all sounded alike. As the hours passed, we were unknowingly improving. My high school band even played a couple of shows before large crowds.

After graduation, we all parted ways. I ended up in a wedding band for a little over 12 years. When I got married, and more importantly, had kids, I had to choose between being a family man or a musician. You see, although I was making money in the wedding band, I was also writing a good deal of my own music. I went into a recording studio with some friends of mine, and recorded two of my original tunes, with the intent of making a "45" record. If you are under 40, you might have to Google that. I still have the master tape, but never did get it pressed. I thought the songs were lost forever.

Then I got an e-mail from a Facebook friend. His brother was the producer of the recording session I had done. My friend told me that his brother had sent him some mp.3 files, and my two songs were there. I was thrilled! But what to do with the songs now...

I burned a couple copies of the songs to give my kids. At least they could enjoy my music. I kept the CD in my car, and any willing passenger got to hear my songs. Then one passenger suggested I put the songs on iTunes. I checked into it, and did so. "I Wanna be Famous" is available on iTunes, and while is not making me rich, has sold a surprising number of downloads. This resurrected my desire to play music again.




I had heard Kristen Merlin, a singer/songwriter with incredible talents, and a band called The Vegas Valentinos in local establishments, and my enthusiasm for the idea grew. Then my high school band's drummer invited me to hear his group, The Toni Knott Band, and I was very surprised to hear how good they were. That did it. I had to find a band. I looked on Craigslist. I saw a couple ads looking for bass players, and replied. A few weeks after my replies, the very same Vegas Valentinos e-mailed me inviting me to audition. I did, and got the job. It was a godsend.

I am now playing live gigs again. The band does a good deal of original songs, and takes recording seriously. It is exactly the situation I had hoped for, and I must say I feel blessed to have been accepted by these wonderfully talented guys.

I have been saying that I want to enjoy the second half of my life a lot more than the first half. The Valentinos are a huge first step in fulfilling that goal.

Remember friends, it's never too late. Go after your dreams. You never know what could happen. Oh, and if you want to hear "I Wanna be Famous", just click on the widget to the left. Enjoy!

Take care my friends.

Osama Bin Laden is dead-My thoughts.

May 1, 2011-

"Dear Diary,

I woke this morning, and my legs are sore from yesterday's activities. I got to go to court to be a witness in a trial. My fantasy baseball team is very average. Oh yeah, and Osama Bin Laden is apparently dead. Homework assignment due tomorrow. Ugh."

I don't actually keep a diary, but if I did, yesterday's entry might have looked like that. All my Facebook friends are posting about Bin Laden's death, yet, somehow, I feel nothing.

I'm not proud. Yet I'm not disgusted either.
I'm not happy. Yet I'm not sad either.
I'm not safer. Yet I'm not in more danger either.
I'm not feeling physically better. Yet I'm not physically worse either.
I'm not celebrating. Yet I'm not upset either.

In short, after all is said and done, it doesn't affect my life one way or another.

My legs still hurt.
I still have bills to pay.
My homework still isn't done.
I still need a haircut.

So Osama Bin Laden is dead.

Pardon me, I've homework to finish.