Dino and the Queen Concert Extravaganza /or/ A Night At The Cop Stop

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that’s me riding the trains

Now Dino was one of my tight buds in high school, we never ventured far from the school together, but still I liked Dino, and I think he liked me. Now as I tell these tales of my life don’t get the impression that I would approve of the things we did and said back then, and don’t think I couldn’t water them down a bit. But if you want an accurate , (or semi-accurate) account I gotta tell it like it was. Remember this is a true story.

Dino carried himself tall, wore a cut off leather jacket, or a cut off Levis jacket. Red bandanna folded neatly hanging out his back pocket, MC boots, and a long chain that hooked to his wallet. While most of us at Christopher Columbus High School had a small tattoo or so Dino had those devils on his inner forearms, one one pointing saying ” hey you” the other saying “who me?. You just couldn’t miss them there. The other thing that struck you about him was that his looks and mannerisms were a sort of cross between Spicoli from Fast Times At Ridgemont High, that kinda stoner thing, and DiNero’s subtle but sure toughness. One thing for sure if something was gonna go down I wanted Dino on my side.

As I said we rarely ventured far from the high school together until this one particular evening. Queens album The Game had just been released and they were playing Madison Square Garden in September I think it was. Somehow we decided to met that evening at the train station at White Plains Rd. and Pelham Parkway, which was about equal distance for each of us and was close to the High School.

(201k, 820x652)<br><b>Country:</b> United States<br><b>City:</b> New York<br><b>System:</b> New York City Transit<br><b>Line:</b> IRT White Plains Road Line<br><b>Location:</b> Allerton Avenue <br><b>Route:</b> 5<br><b>Car:</b> R-21 (St. Louis, 1956-57) 7132 <br><b>Photo by:</b> Mike Ormond<br><b>Date:</b> 1982<br><b>Viewed (this week/total):</b> 2 / 3032
So at the appointed time we both arrived on the street below the station. Up we went to catch the train. As Dino hit the top I saw him just jump the turnstile, and at the same time a Transit Cop reaches out and grabs him. Well, I didn’t hesitate and jumped it too right in front of both of them. Dino kinda smiled, the cop, well wasn’t so much smiling and says, “stop right there”. Now I did not want to get him mad so I held it in but I was like “dah, I’m with him and we got a concert to go to so we sticking together”. Did I say that this was a true story? Well it is.
The officer perceiving that we were not a threat proceeded to take us into the station bathroom, i figured for a beating, but he wasn’t up for it that night I guess. The first thing he did was ask if we had money to pay the fare, which we both did. Second the search began. Me first, 1 slightly large Schrade folding knife, a pack of Bamboo rolling papers, some cash, cigs, two tickets for Queen at MSG. Now Dino’s turn. Oh wait, I forgot a crucial point earlier on the street Dino pulls out a little container with microdot mescaline, or at least that’s what we knew it by. we each popped about 3 on the way up. Now Dino, one nickle bag weed, a zippo lighter, a assortment of knives,several quite large, a small plastic container with these tiny cylindrical objects of a purple color, assorted other things. First up was the weed, would your father approve of this? no sir? “I should just call him now see what he says’ “please no sir” .”and what about all the knives’ “well sir it’s dangerous on the subway at night and…” “and this what is this in this little container flints for your lighter” yes sir, yes sir that’s exactly what they are”…. “Now you boys take all your stuff go pay your fare and don’t ever let me catch you jumping the turnstile while you have plenty of money in your pocket, and spending money on Rock concert tickets”. “Ah sir, can we have our weed back we are going to the concert and all”….”right, right we are going, thank you again sir” True story.
We did as told thankful we didn’t get sent to the #5 line gulag and were on our way. To be honest I don’t remember much of the concert or coming home. I’m gonna blame it on the flints, maybe someday I’ll enjoy the show in a flashback.
Dino, I don’t know where or how you are but, love ya bud..one of the best.

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THE LEGEND OF THE HUNDRED HALLS /or/ Where have all the children gone?

 If you are enjoying these stories pick up a copy of my book which has lots more of my writings by clicking here.
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 Now growing up in Parkchester had a lot of wondrous and exciting advantages to many other neighborhoods in the Bronx. One which stirs up childhood fantasies, and memories is the Hundred Halls as they were referred to by almost every kid in the neighborhood and many adults. According to a paper found online, “Parkchester is comprised of 51 buildings with a modular system of varied cores and wings. 12,273 units house 42,000 people. Building range in height from 8 to 13 stories,” What this means is that most buildings were connected to other buildings. For the record if you lived there you know that we called them 7 story and 12 story buildings And while there were not direct pathways from one lobby to another there were ways to cut through if you ventured down a flight from the lobby. You see back then we had things called carriage rooms. You could walk down a flight from the lobby and go down the long hallways below to enter these rooms. most were long with metal railings on opposite walls. Generally there was a ramp access on the outer side to the lower level for easy access. The women of the buildings would keep the large baby carriages of the era there, some would lock them I guess with a chain to the bar, though I can’t remember anyone doing that. Some people would keep their bikes and store other things in these rooms , before crime got to be such a problem…..
 Ok, so back to the legend. While travel between certain buildings was simple to achieve, it was the idea of being able to go to any building in the complex that drew our young minds to adventure. But to do so would require the help of another legend of Parkchester “The Master Master Key”. Master keys were held by the porters who kept the buildings clean and all the things in working order. These master keys were good for one or two buildings but the” Master Master” would access those doors that led to the very secret hundred halls.
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 One of those Master keys almost cost my friend George, or Tinki, his life when he got caught with it. Not by the police, or the judicial system, no after being informed by the police about the incident Tinki’s dad was the would be executioner, well not quite but it seemed that way in my youth.
 Several times in my misspent youth I or a friend would take it upon ourselves to rid a lax porter of his key ring, he may have left on his jacket, hanging on a doorknob while he worked.
 This is where the adventure began. the basement halls could be long and dark, with lots of doors that were unmarked except the fallout shelter rooms with those yellow and black signs. And kids, well we loved drama and would try to keep each other on edge and scared as we wandered underground trying keys in doors and going through different rooms to other halls. Feeling like we had gone miles and been down there for hours we would have to ultimately emerge only to find out we were still just a building or two away. of course there was the known fact, by all us kids, that there were many kids who nerve emerged from those halls. That was enough to keep you on edge the whole way through.
 Today it may not seem like much to you, but to us who grew up there and lived these adventures, to us it was more than even Tom Sawyer or Huck Finn could have survived. And I’m sure if there are still kids living there that somehow, by someone, the legend has been passed down to.If you could just make it through all the way to come out say in the next quadrant, well you would be a hero for all time.  Makes me think about going back and giving it a shot, even at 53 years old.
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This is the link if you never lived there that will show you how buildings were connected around the complex.

Hot Beans and Butter /or/ Hot Peas and Butter

If you are enjoying these stories pick up a copy of my book which has lots more of my writings by clicking here.

 

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“The Wall”

Along time ago in a land far far away. Or so it seems these days. Enough of that back to the serious matter at hand. A game whose origin must stretch back to the days before man was civilized. At the least as far back as the 50’s or 60’s, maybe further.

Who came up with this sadistic form of fun is also another of the great mysteries of growing up in Parkchester, and it’s surrounding neighborhoods. This much I think, everyone who is familiar with this game can agree on, It had to have been devised by one of our older brothers or sisters. How do I know this? Because they were always the person that suggested the playing of the game.

My first run at this childhood game was at the Wall in the South. I don’t recall all the faces on that ill-fated day, “oh the humanity”! I am quite sure that I was with my cousin Johnny, strange he pops up a lot in these tales?! or #@$%&##…others included Mary Jane, Tommy, Albee, Patricia, and Patricia, possibly Georgie and Andy

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Top of the wall where we hung and also “base”

Regardless, this is how the game went. One of the older kids says. “hey lets play hot beans and butter” and all the younger kids say, “Yeah, Yeah, how do we play?” Was Margaret there that day? I think so. Anyway, at this point the rules are spelled out for the uninitiated……..”ok who has a good belt on? great that will do, now the first person, that will be me since me and Tommy are the only ones who have played before, hides the belt…then after it hid, yous guys have to try and find it..if someone is close, I’ll say you’re gettin’ warm, if you start to get further away, I say something like “Johnny’s getting cold”. Now this spot here is base, if you make it here you are safe, Then all us little kids say….”safe from what?”…”Well when someone finds the belt then they get to whip anyone who has not made it to base yet until they do”..”AHHH? OK?” says our little minds.

At that point the rest of the rules were spelled out:
no hitting with the buckle
no hitting above the waist
no hitting in the front
blah..blah..blah
penalties were imposed for infractions
1 lash, 3 lashes, and on to the gauntlet!

Now I may be a paranoid, tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy theorist, but I am pretty sure that at least that first round was rigged and Tommy and Johnny knew that Johnny was going to find that belt. And then the game was on!First round, Tommy hides the belt, Johnny finds it and several of us get a good little whipping. Johnny was great at finding that belt, he would be standing right over it and couldn’t see it until almost everyone had made there way close, and bam! he would pull it out of no where and be on us.

Several rounds and several red welts and arguments about penalties later, after a few tears here or there (mostly here) an event took place that ended the game for that day. Now we all knew that Bronx girls were tough, I had lost a fight or two to several already by this almost grown up age of nine or ten. But, I don’t think any of us had any idea exactly how tough, until Mary Jane got whipped in a fashion that did not apply to the rules. I kinda think she was already upset after Patricia got two big ole welts on her back the round before, that were above the zone deemed legal. Well in a flash as the next swing came at her, she had the belt and was swinging like a Yankee in the World Series. Most all of us got a lashing and the game ended on that round, until next week when we gave it another go. At least that’s the way I remember it happening, you may have a different memory of the day and that’s ok.

So whether you call it hot beans and butter, or hot peas and butter, that’s not important to me or to the story of that day. To me, and I saw it myself in the eyes of the older boys.. I was a little young at the time…, in Parkchester boys love a tough girl, and the girls in our neighborhood, in the neighborhoods around us, the girls in our gang, they were tough.

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The flag pole
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One of the buildings I lived in back in the day.

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Fukushima Update 2/7/2017

Image may contain: one or more people and indoorHave not been able to spend too much time watching the live streams, right now it is night in Japan, but will try to get more shots today. My YouTube videos on the smoke coming from Reactor #1 have been being hit by trolls with fake accounts, saying all kinds of stuff about my videos being bogus and such. This just adds credibility ( in my opinion) to my thoughts that it is steam or smoke we saw boiling out of that building.

Here are the videos I have on it so far:

https://www.gofundme.com/hke3swus

 

 

Psalm 28

So sorry I did not get more posted yesterday, it was a very bad day for pain. My latest update is here. https://www.gofundme.com/hke3swus

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 Unto thee will I cry, O Lord my rock; be not silent to me: lest, if thou be silent to me, I become like them that go down into the pit.

Hear the voice of my supplications, when I cry unto thee, when I lift up my hands toward thy holy oracle.

Draw me not away with the wicked, and with the workers of iniquity, which speak peace to their neighbours, but mischief is in their hearts.

Give them according to their deeds, and according to the wickedness of their endeavours: give them after the work of their hands; render to them their desert.

Because they regard not the works of the Lord, nor the operation of his hands, he shall destroy them, and not build them up.

Blessed be the Lord, because he hath heard the voice of my supplications.

The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him.

The Lord is their strength, and he is the saving strength of his anointed.

Save thy people, and bless thine inheritance: feed them also, and lift them up for ever.

CAPTAIN FOLKTASTIC /or/ THE ENTERGY EEL

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FOLKTASTIC DEALS WITH THAT SLIMEY CREATURE, THE ENTERGY EEL

 

Captain Folktastic back on the scene

looking good and keeping it clean

Entergy now seems to be flexing it’s might

the Folkadelic Captain has got them in sight

all across this fine land the maniacs make their play

but Folktastic and Bombastic shadow them each day

while they think they have won and plan to poison us more

the original atomic abolitionist is here to settle the score

so get ready you slimey Entergy eel

Captain Folktastic is the REAL DEAL

2018 ANTI-NUCLEAR OLYMPIC SQUAD IS BEING ASSEMBLED

VOTE FOR YOUR TEAM IN THE COMMENT SECTION BELOW

stayed tuned for the next episode…..funky funky and………….folktastic …..we want the funk…gotta have that funk…funkadelic folktastic all organic nukefluke chastisement..

shine on you crazy diamonds /or/ wish you were here

An Afternoon Poem

FWFTF

not every man is evil

not every man is evil
not every man hits
at the woman
said he ‘loves’
nor speaks low
and grotesque
mean or sexual
nor to provoke

not every man is evil
not every man lies
at the woman
said he “loves”
nor flirts low
and sweetly
secretly behind
nor to cheat

not every man is evil
not every man puffs
at the woman
says he “loves”
nor puts down
and degrades
loud or unknown
nor to be top

not every man is evil
every man is evil
man is evil
and there is
no excuse
for me

RFilos2017
or two…

Route 66 Hiking to Hitch

asphalt bubbling along summer roads
steps turn into enemies heavy and sticky
battling this backpack an elephant above
piggyback riding me the first twelve miles
leaving Chicago alone on double sixes
two thousand four hundred thirty six left
four wheels the brain talk constant now
feet swelled and blistered boots eyelets drip
their wet balls travel down tight nylon laces
mocking me in steam rising clouds of queries
they hit hot pavement ahead of each footprint
in black quicksand stuck thumb extended
RFilos2017

ST.PATRICKSDAY/THANKSGIVING

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That’s me right next to the teacher.

 Buy my Book here. It’s got all the stories in it.

Written on Thanksgiving 2015

Now don’t think to yourself, “Rob has really gone off the deep end now”. We all know that happened long ago. Must be that, comfort food smells as memory inducers thing, but it is Thanksgiving day and I’m thinking Irish Soda Bread. So if after a few of my Catholic School stories you are wondering, if having missed the yard sticks, and ear pulling you benefited somehow, as we say in Da Bronx, “Forgeddaboutit!” (The pronunciation is universal, while the spelling is not, if fact,is still progressing).

 With that in mind and submitted for you approval, St. Patrick’s Day at St. Helena’s circa 1970 something.
 Long before Lord of the Dance, Celtic Women, Martha Stewart, or even AC/DC, these celebrations of Food, and Song, Music and Dance in the Irish tradition were developing in the small Irish hamlet tucked between Westchester Avenue and Olmstead Avenue in Da Bronx. Being Italian-Irish as opposed to Irish-Italian, I couldn’t say for sure if this took place on or before the actual day we call St. Patrick’s Day. I assume it did take place before since I know Columbus Day was a School holiday at this time, and at our state of evolution in 1970 something, if St. Patrick’s day was not I’m pretty sure war would have ensued and I could not be writing this now in 2015 something.
 What a joy filled occasion it was back in the day. The day would start as any day in St. Helena’s would then. The pledge of Allegiance to the Flag.
 Which went like this, I think.
(disclaimer, as I said we were not yet fully developed in the brain back then so feel free to insert any religious deity, or none, any flag colors, or none, any national sexual orientation or disorientation or none, group of letters, numbers, symbols, light beer, dark beer, cans, or bottles, that may be required at present time as to be non offensive, non discriminatory, non invasive, non inclusive, inclusive, conclusive, non disruptive, non destructive, or just outright silly. Which will allow you to avoid costly litigation and logical thinking.)
 I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation, under God, Indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for All.
After which we said something else or other and did this or that, leading directly into a very Irish young man playing the bagpipes, a rendition of Amazing Grace even AC/DC had not thought of yet. Upon completion of which the most beautiful Irish girls in the whole neighborhood would put some very loud shoes on their feet and dance so wonderfully and fast that during their performance the most delicious Irish Soda Bread would be cooked to perfection, and set before us with sticks of real butter and jars of real jams and jellies.
 Who was the best dancer and who brought the best Soda Bread? Colleen, or Eileen, or Mary, or Catherine…O’ or Mac, all I know is it had the greatest smell as the pounds of butter slowly melted into it, and the bagpiper was long forgotten beyond the plaid uniform and knee socks. And shall remain a memory long after the days in Central Park for St. Patrick’s Day, with the mud and the blood and the beer, have vacated this beer congested brain. I can smell the Turkey cooking now so I’m off to sing a bar of Alice’s Restaurant and switch gears again. I love my Irish heritage, and the memories it provided that are truly priceless. I know that yours are too.
 The names may have been changed or forgotten but the comfort that Irish Soda Bread with lots of butter and jam brings will remain forever.
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Psalm 20 King James Version (KJV)

  The Lord hear thee in the day of trouble; the name of the God of Jacob defend thee;

Send thee help from the sanctuary, and strengthen thee out of Zion;

Remember all thy offerings, and accept thy burnt sacrifice; Selah.

Grant thee according to thine own heart, and fulfil all thy counsel.

We will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners: the Lord fulfil all thy petitions.

Now know I that the Lord saveth his anointed; he will hear him from his holy heaven with the saving strength of his right hand.

Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God.

They are brought down and fallen: but we are risen, and stand upright.

Save, Lord: let the king hear us when we call.

 

Some People Trust In Elephants

bight and fiery tracers wiz past
seeking out targets of consent
with flares above affording sight

bombs blare their acceptance
speaking in corrupt vile intensity
the campaign potty training trail

unsightly exposure to deceit
fear driving the party platform
restless inductees working late

buying and selling fear and doom
donations left on the convention floor
the janitors making the laws here

sold to crowds lighted glasses
religious icons of american pop
a cultural class of warfare hype

black widow apocalyptic purse
empty handed jesters distributing
their powerful tonics of positions

building bridges of human suffering
so as to reach the greener pastures
which silently sound proper affiliations

the key to chastity’s broken note belt
leaking spent oil as much as e-mails
best thing just take the bullet and run

while some people trust in elephants,
and other people will trust in donkeys
we trust in the Name of the Lord Our God

RFilos2016

PSALM 19

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The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.

Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge.

There is no speech nor language, where their voice is not heard.

Their line is gone out through all the earth, and their words to the end of the world. In them hath he set a tabernacle for the sun,

Which is as a bridegroom coming out of his chamber, and rejoiceth as a strong man to run a race.

His going forth is from the end of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it: and there is nothing hid from the heat thereof.

The law of the Lord is perfect, converting the soul: the testimony of theLord is sure, making wise the simple.

The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart: the commandment of the Lord is pure, enlightening the eyes.

The fear of the Lord is clean, enduring for ever: the judgments of theLord are true and righteous altogether.

10 More to be desired are they than gold, yea, than much fine gold: sweeter also than honey and the honeycomb.

11 Moreover by them is thy servant warned: and in keeping of them there is great reward.

12 Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.

13 Keep back thy servant also from presumptuous sins; let them not have dominion over me: then shall I be upright, and I shall be innocent from the great transgression.

14 Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, my strength, and my redeemer.