It's Not Always Sunny in Philadelphia

As a Steeler fan, or maybe for all football fans for that matter, the start of the season means your team has a chance. Wait ‘til next year is now THIS year. We may even look back at rituals we performed during successful seasons to emulate them and allow for another run at a championship.

In 2008, every Sunday I cooked something that was Black and Gold…and we brought home the Lombardi. This year I’ve decided the food spin would be the local flavor of the opposing team’s town. Last week it was Cincinnati Chili. It was devoured like A.J. Green was in the Steelers secondary. This week, well Philly, will be an easy one. Cheesesteaks anyone? In some cases I will prepare the fare myself. But in this instance I went straight to the source. Jim’s of South St. was my first foray into the siren call of the steaks…so this would be the place. The advent of shipping local favorites to far off places has even come to this little establishment. I will be ready with my foe’s food. We can’t lose.

Oh wait! What’s this. The talking heads on the NFL Network said the Steelers have not won in Philly since 1965. That would mean they are 0 and my lifetime in the city of brotherly love. But how could that be? I went to college in the liberty town…how did I not know this. I did attend a Steeler victory over the Birds in 1994 at Three Rivers in Pittsburgh and a Steeler loss at Veteran’s Stadium in 1997…but to have not won at any stadium in Philly while I’ve been a sentient being? It was time to do a little googling. They were right. The Steelers had not won in Philadelphia since October 24, 1965. Now, the only solace is that the Steelers did not seem to play the Eagles in Philly a whole lot over the last 50 years. In a twist of NFL scheduling it only totals 8 games. You would have to go back to the 9th game to their last victory. The day was won for the Steelers with big plays from Bradshaw. Wait, not that Bradshaw, he did not win in Philly either. This was JIM Bradshaw who led the defense with 3 interceptions returning one for a touchdown. This was at least one Bradshaw ago. Terry Bradshaw though did get one, and only one, crack at bringing home a W along the Pennsylvania Turnpike. The Eagles were an upcoming team with the likes of Ron Jaworksi and Wilbert Montgomery. The Steelers came in undefeated and the current Superbowl champs. The Eagles would walk away with a victory making a statement to the NFL. The following year the Eagles would be in the Superbowl.

It would be another 12 years, in 1991, before the Steelers would head to the eastern part of the state. I remember it well. It was the 4^th game of the season and my friends who were still attending Drexel did not return to campus until late September. The college started later than most due to its quarterly academic schedule. It would be too much of a challenge to plan a trip down. However at that time, I would watch all the Steeler games at Mulcahey’s pub. And on this first Sunday of fall, summer hung on with all its might. The bar put the game on at the outside bar, which was never open for football. But the abundant sunshine allowed for us Sunday dark cave dwellers out into the daylight. This had to be a good omen. Terry Bradshaw was a distant memory and the QB now was Bubby Brister. A brash upstart, he took the Steelers on a magical ride in the 1989 playoffs. Now, two years latter there was an excitement again with this team. The Steelers were 2-1 and got off to a great start in the first half of the game. Then the game, and the season fell apart. Brister threw three second half interceptions and the Eagles took the lead…which they would never relinquish. Tensions grew between Brister and his All Pro TE Eric Green. The Steelers would go on to lose 7 of their next 10 games. Brister would eventually be benched effectively ending his career in Pittsburgh.

1997 the schedule makers would have the Steelers pack their bags for Philly once again. This time I was going too. The Eagles were coming off a 10-6 season in 1996 where they had finished first in the division.  The fans were full of hope that 1997 would be THEIR year to win it all.  A slow start and a losing record created unrest among the fans.  An already unruly crowd turned worse.  Alcohol was banned after half time…that didn’t work.  Security was enhanced…no impact.  The city of Philadelphia needed a radical idea to turn the tide of trouble.  Their idea was to deal with the perpetrators with swift and immediate justice.  They would install a sanctioned courtroom right on the premises.  They chose Nov 23, 1997 to implement it.  It would be the same game against the Steelers I would be going to. The Steelers came in as big favorites. They were 8-3 and among the best in the AFC. After the bad beginning the Eagles began to steady the ship. A second year QB from Ohio State would be getting his second start. He was fresh off leading the Eagles to a tie game in the waning moments against Baltimore. There was an excitement in the stands as this would be Bobby Hoying’s first home game. This time it would be Kordell Stewart throwing three interceptions and the Eagles jumped out to a 20-6 lead. The Steelers would never recover. However, this year the Steelers would make it to the AFC Championship game. Unfortunately the Steelers would lose, as Stewart would throw three interceptions in that contest too.

2008 would be the next, and last time the Steelers would be in Philly. But this time it would be at the new stadium, The Linc, Lincoln Financial Stadium. I decided not to attend, as now I was out further east on the Island. I was now married and a bit of a homebody. I had the NFL package and Max, why would I need anything more. I considered going as it was said the crowd at the new stadium was more subdued than their counterparts from a raucous Vet Stadium. However, the Eagles play on the field brought the crowd to life. Ben Roethlisberger led this incarnation of the Steeler team. Much like Bradshaw in 1979, he came into the game having a Supebowl under his belt. The Steelers were among the elite in the AFC, but this time so were the Eagles. It was no contest. The Eagles treated Ben like he said something bad about their mother. Ben was sacked 8 times and hit numerous more. He was eventually pulled from the game to protect him from getting hurt. It was said recently by Ben that he contemplated retirement after this game. I couldn’t blame him. Eventually the Steelers would put this travisty behind them. Ben would go on to win the Superbowl that year with a last second TD pass. On the victorious podium, Ben held the Lomardi high and said, “Who’s laughing now O-Line!” I can only imagine he was thinking back to the Eagles game.

Now it is 2016 and it is the Steelers 9^th try in my lifetime to win in Philadelphia. While the last two losses have developed into successful seasons for the Black and Gold, this time I’d prefer they come out with a victory.

It will make my Cheesesteak taste all the better…

Do You Remember...

Ask Walsh, he remembers everything. This is not an uncommon line I hear no matter what group of friends I may be with. Even at a young age I seemed to always remember. Good or bad. A friend of mine says we remember what we choose to remember. Well, I choose to remember everything.

As you may have seen in my blogs, my memory is vivid in detail going back to as far as I can…well, remember. Scientists say people are left brained or right brained depending on how they process their thoughts. I sometimes feel I have both sides working. Now, unfortunately this does not translate into being more intelligent. It is more like one side of my brain allows me to function on a daily basis…while the other side has a projector constantly showing old home movies. If I need to go back and remember, I just pop a reel on and off I go back in time. In my blogs, you can see that something in my day triggers the trip. However, now I am only visiting. When I was younger I tended to dwell in it. The previous grass always seemed greener. While I’ve heard the reality of the past would never match my sweet imagination, that everything looks worse in black and white, I don’t sugar coat the experiences. I had to learn to look at, and not yearn for, the past. And once I did that why not look back? We each have become a sum of our own experiences whether we remember them or not.

Now, while I seem to have the innate ability to remember, don’t think I’m able to put it to efficient use. It has not allowed me to avoid making similar mistakes over the course of my life. I am who I am. I can look back and see how things happened and why…and most likely why they will happen again. When I was younger I would ponder “what if” I did this, or reacted “this way”…what if I only… But as I once said, you can only make a decision based on the information available to you at the time. Looking back, you now already know the outcome, which obviously is more than you would have known…so how could you ever have done something differently. It’s like a coin toss already knowing which side will come up. And if you did somehow change what you would have done, and alter the outcome…then what? I am a big believer in the ripple or butterfly effect. That one change would change everything. You can’t alter one event and think that everything else will play out the same…or how you think it would have once you changed your path. You can never predict how this new course you are on would have taken you.

So it is easy for me to remember, because I am always remembering. I am doing it right now. It is rare I will forget something, but every now and then my memory will be jarred. Off to the tape room to find that reel…which I know is in there somewhere. Christina will catch me drifting off sometimes and ask me what I’m thinking about. She can easily see the changes of expression on my face…even though I am unaware. Due to my vivid memories I not only remember and visualize it, but I feel the emotions too. It is almost like my own make shift time machine. And once I go, I embrace it…good or bad. Jubilation, anticipation…sorrow. We watch movies that draw on our emotions…why not our own memories. We had to live through it. Of course I hear the inevitable “do you really want to relive that?” Yes, yes I do…all of it…and while I still can. As I said, our memories are who we are. And not being a believer in the after life, they will eventually cease to exist. Why not get the most out of them now. Life is too short, and I find comfort in taking time to look back. How many times do we watch reruns of our favorite TV shows? They evoke the same feelings we had when we first viewed them. My reruns are just a little more personal.

I’m not going to wait for my life to flash before my eyes.

I’m going to sit back and enjoy the show now… 

Reelin' In The Years

I never liked writing in High School. I always found it a burden to find 500 nouns, adjectives and adverbs to fill out certain assignments. Maybe it was just the fact I had not experienced enough life to have the words flow onto a page. Over four years ago I started my blog basically to kill time during the drudgery of the LIRR commute. Then I found out I liked to do it. Then I found out people read it…and they actually liked it. So, I will try again, albeit more sporadically, to regale you with my tales. A Facebook memory appeared this morning of a Steely Dan concert I attended 2 years ago on this date, it prompted me to think back to how I wound up where I am…and why the blogs stopped.

It was 2013 and the world did not end on the Mayan doomsday date, 12/21/2012. However, my own doomsday took place 9 days later as the Steelers finished at 8-8 and out of the playoffs. At least this came with one consolation prize. My weekends in January would be free. This allowed me to plan without having a Steeler playoff game to work around. It was like any other Friday in January and I was looking forward to the weekend. The only caveat was the looming layoffs at my job. We had faced three major downsizing during my seven years there.  Luckily the local IT department had remained untouched and intact. This time would be different. Our manager knew they had their sights set on him. A shake up at CEO had left him vulnerable and this time they would make their move. He saw this coming, but from his sources he said the rest of use would remain. As I arrived Monday morning, it didn’t take long to realize this would not be the case. Already walked out of the building, my boss was on his way home by the time I arrived. Three people from the IT headquarters in Rye stood guard in our office like we were in lockdown. We were told that certain of us would be getting a phone call to meet with the interim manager. It now became a game of Russian Roulette. The first phone ringing was at the desk next to mine. Like a solemn soldier he marched off to his destiny. An hour later he returned and our fears were confirmed…he was laid off. Now knowing full well what a call would mean, an eerie silence fell over the room. For whom the bell tolls…it tolls for thee. As Don Henley once said, “I got the call today, I didn't want to hear, but I knew that it would come.”

I was shown to an office a couple of floors up. I had never met the woman from Human Resources or the new manager from Rye who would now oversee the NYC operations. We had seen the staff in Rye get promotions and raises. Now they came to pick our pockets to pay for it. I couldn’t help but notice this guy looked just like the Hispanic actor who played on Barney Miller as a cop and Lamont’s friend on Sanford and Son. All I kept thinking is great, I’m going to get fired by Julio…along with the sound of Redd Foxx’s voice saying, “You big Dummy!”  All the paper work was a mere formality, my fate long since decided. The only solace was the severance, of which I couldn’t complain. I signed away my seven years of service and was escorted back to my desk. I was given a cardboard transfer box to wipe away the evidence of my corporate existence. When I was done, I was walked to the elevator and out the door. I was left on the sidewalks of Manhattan much like Felix when he received that request from his wife. With nowhere else to go…I headed home. After 25 years of work, I took some time to myself. Max enjoyed having me around…and believe it or not so did Christina. Removal from the rat race softened me significantly. Eliminating 20 hours a week of dealing with the LIRR and MTA was a huge part of it. The filth, the inhuman conditions…all of which completely ignored by the corpse like commuters…takes a toll on the soul. If you allow it, it transforms you into a different person…and I unfortunately fell under that spell. Luckily the love of a lab is the perfect potion to fix what ails you.

Over the time off I took on some consulting work and did peruse the online job sites. I would cherry pick here and there where I would send my resume. I mostly looked on the Island as Christina basically forbid me to go back to the daily drudgery of the city shuffle. I tended to agree. However, that was where most of the jobs where. Two opportunities came knocking I really wanted. Unfortunately I was Miss Runner Up. There are no offers for second place. I opened up the search a bit even though I was doused in the recent disappointment. I applied to two very similar positions online. In a few days I received a call back and discussed the opening. I was excited, but quickly realized it was the lesser of the two. He informed me he owned his own Mac shop…in the city. He was short staffed and needed immediate help. He convinced me to come in for an interview and I reluctantly agreed. When the time came I certainly did not bring my A game. By the time I got home I had a message to give him a call back.  I was hesitant, but there is this thing called money…and I tended to need the legal tender. He wanted to hire me full time but I informed him I did not want the job nor did I want to commute back in the city. Unfazed by my negative answer he said he would hire me part time if I didn’t want the full 5 days a week. I threw out a ridiculously high hourly rate. He agreed. I tried not to get the job…but it was obvious he needed the help.

This post is not about this job, just a precursor to the next…so I won’t go into details. I tried to make the best of it. I even looked up the owner of this shop and found out he was a long time Mac evangelist. Hey, maybe I could learn from him and he could open up a few doors. I tried to put on a happy face. However, from day one I hated it…and it never got better. In my few months there I would never deal with him. The Mac shop was disorganized at best. I was sent out on jobs that I was woefully unprepared for. Lack of equipment, lack of communication, lack of anything I needed. I would show up at offices carrying nothing more than my commuter bag with my pillow. They gave me no laptop, no software, no nothing to perform even the menial of IT tasks. I will say the clients were more forgiving than the Mac shop itself. After a few weeks, the one guy who tried to keep the chaos together, quit. He at least organized my days. The girl who took over had no plan, and it showed. Every week I wanted to quit, but every week I got a paycheck. I was getting way more for three days than I was getting for five. Suck it up Mr. Walsh. As the weeks passed, I realized most of my assignments were of the “fill in” variety. Companies needed support for when their staff took their summer time off…including the Mac shop itself. As August was drawing to a close, I started seeing staff returning. It was then I realized my days were numbered. This was not a bad thing. I was still sending out my resume in hope of finding something different.

On one Friday, August 22^nd I saw an ad. Holy Holy Grail! This was it! Everything I wanted in a job right there online. An immediate opening for a Mac admin position and only one town over. I double-checked my resume, quickly put together a cover letter and off it went. I kid you not when I tell you I received a call back in no more than 5 minutes from when I hit send. When they said immediate they were not kidding. It didn’t take long for this rose to reveal its thorns. Almost from the word Go, things started to stink. Less rose, more manure. The talent recruiter who had placed the ad loved my resume. It was by far the best she had received. She then began to inform me of the position. The Design Company she wanted to place me at was in turmoil. The IT Director was fired and that afternoon the support staff decided to follow him. They were left with no one. She said it was risk/reward. The reward was an opportunity. If the Design Company liked me I could potentially become their IT Director. But it seemed even she would not know some of the unforeseen risks that lie ahead. She did say the Design Company was in such disarray she would not recommend leaving a job to take this one. She also mentioned an IT Provider was trying to get their foot in the door. In spite of all this I said I was interested. I don’t regret it, but it took me on quite the emotional ride.

The talent recruiter said she would get back to me soon, as the Design Company needed someone fast. A week went by…soon was slipping away. The next Friday I called her. She informed me the situation had changed and things were not as dire as the week before. It seemed the IT Provider got its foot, ass…their whole body in the door. However, she said that the IT Provider still needed a Mac person to handle the account. I would have to work for them and be placed at the Design Company. Not ideal, however my current job was not ideal…nor going to last much longer. I let her know I would still be interested. A few days passed and not a peep. I called the talent recruiter and she said the job changed once again. They said they discovered several PC servers at the Design Company and the job was no longer a Mac only position. I would say the wheels were beginning to fall off…but little did I know, this was only the beginning. She did say she would see if the IT Provider would still be interested in hiring me and she’d call me back. I held out little hope that this would happen. Two days later I was shocked to hear from her. She informed me the IT Provider was still interested in me for my Mac experience. We set up an interview for Monday, Sept. 8^th since I had Mondays and Fridays off with my current position. I prepped for the interview but I was not as smitten with the job as I once was. What started as a perfect fit was dwindling down to a size 28 but I take 34. Again, I would make the best of it. As I was getting ready to leave the house, my phone rang. It was the Mac shop I worked for in the city. They never called me on my off day, so I was pretty sure what would be on the other end. It was the girl who had taken over the scheduling. She informed me they no longer needed my services as other techs were returning from vacation. I was not surprised. The owner, who had convinced me to take the position, didn’t even have the courtesy to make the call.

With this new piece of information, I decided to head to the interview with the full intention of getting the job…as now I needed one. I nailed the interview and before I even reached my car in the parking lot the talent recruiter was calling me. She informed me of what I already knew, and they wanted to have me in for a second interview later that week. She asked what day I was free, well…as of now, all of them. Of course that was not my response. She suggested Thursday. Interview #2 went just as well. I was even asked if I could come in the next day or the following Monday, if needed, to get started at the Design Company onsite. Without divulging my new employment status, I said I could probably move things around to accommodate them. Later that day the talent recruiter called me and said I had done very well. She let me know I would most likely be hearing something shortly. Friday passed and nothing. I guess they didn’t need me yet. I looked forward to a relaxing weekend, as I no longer had to deal with the insanity of my previous employment. Free from the shackles of stupidly, I did not have to worry what the following week at that Mac shop would bring. Even more so, that Saturday night, I was going to see Steely Dan at the Paramount in Huntington. Friends of mine had an extra ticket and I was in. The last time I had seen Steely Dan the experience was marred by a severely under par dinner experience and a very large man encroaching on our entire existence at the concert. This time would have to be better. To increase the enjoyment we were headed for some Cajun cuisine before the show. As I was getting ready, I received a call around 3:00pm. I recognized the number. It was the talent recruiter. But on a Saturday? Must be important so I took the call. She was happy to inform me the IT Provider loved me and they would like to offer me the position. I immediately accepted the offer. The journey was over. The last few weeks of ups and downs seemed worth it. I couldn’t even imagine this was going to be the easy part.

Full up with this knowledge I was on a high. I would be working close to home…no city, no LIRR! Soon I was off to dinner and to see Steely Dan. My friends even noticed the extra bounce in my step. One of them had even dealt with the Design Company before. She had a less than glowing opinion, but I mentioned I did my due diligence and had seen the reviews on Glassdoor. I was undeterred because if not for those issues, the opportunity would not have become available. Dinner was fantastic and we headed to the venue. We had seats in the bar area up top. We were early and scooped up bar stools by the rail looking down at the stage. Things were looking up. I should have known better. But how could I foresee this. I checked my e-mail on my phone a few moments before Steely Dan was to go on. I saw an e-mail from the talent recruiter marked urgent. I assumed it was the offer in writing and an update from our conversation only hours earlier. It was not. I was informed the IT Provider had to rescind their offer. My heart sank. Like pulling the rug right out from under me. It seems the Design Company had issues with the IT Provider’s contract and they may not even be going forward with them. The concert was ruined. My friends could see something happened as I just shut down. During the show I called Christina to let her know and I asked her to come get me. I let my friends in on what happened but there was no consoling me. What started as an opportunity for a dream job turned into an abusive relationship…and there was more to come.

Over the next few months there was some back and forth between the talent recruiter and myself. I was told to hold on if I could, they were still trying to work something out. Two months later the IT Provider and the Design Company reached an agreement on a contract. It was a bastardized version beyond belief. Like a battered spouse I went back to them and accepted their unfortunate terms. I would be split 3 days at the Design Company and 2 days at the IT Provider. Eventually I would be weaned off to 1 day a month at the Design Company. There would be no opportunity to get hired by the Design Company. I can only image this is what it would be like to accept a conditional surrender. With no were else to go…I went with this. Working at the Design Company went smoothly, working at the IT Provider did not. The following year’s turmoil makes this story seem mild. Things would eventually turn for the better after that first year. An updated contract in 2015/2016 would have me at the Design Company full time.

But with Facebook’s reminder comes the fact that this contract is now up.

Hopefully I won't be Reelin' this year...

Not Just A Ball

For those who might have missed it...last night Christina, Max and I went to “Bark in the Park” at the LI Ducks game. Due to a rainout the previous day, it became a double header. Most of those in attendance with pups left after the first game. Christina and I just moved down closer to the action. As we settled into our new seats a gentleman around my age asked if he could pet Max. Max was already waging his tail like he knew the gentleman his entire life. He said dogs are a good judge of character, and be worried if your dog doesn’t like someone. I noticed he was wearing a black T-shirt that said “The Dogfather”, like the Godfather marquee. The gentleman took a real liking to Max and as he started to go, he said to Max… if he catches a foul ball, he’d give it to him. I joked he’d probably rather have you give him your fries. The gentleman quipped back, fries would be easier…he could BUY those. The gentleman was off to settle in his front row seats.

Around the 4^th inning it happened. A high foul pop headed towards us. The third baseman stuck his arm into the stands to reach for it…but it was too far in. I was ready to play the bounce off the concrete floor, but as it hit it bounced up into a row of chairs…and rolled back under the gentleman’s seat. He reached down, picked up the ball, got right up without hesitation and headed straight for us. He gave the ball to Max who gladly took it in his mouth. He said, Max, this is for you…and headed back to his seat. The little bit of crowd remaining applauded the gentleman.

When the inning was over, I walked down the aisle with Max to the gentleman. I told Max to give kisses and thank him, which of course he did. I then asked the gentleman if he wanted the ball back, it was a very nice gesture. He told me to keep it. He then told me he had just lost his dog to cancer. I HAD wondered why the fan with a “Dogfather” shirt on was the only one without a dog. He told me how hard it was to go through chemo with his pup, but he was there with him through it all. Maybe Max sensed that when the gentleman originally came over, and for a moment maybe it helped the gentleman forgot his sorrow. I hope it did, because I will never forget his gesture.

I probably will never see the gentleman again. But I want you to think of him the next time you have an opportunity to do something like this. Somewhere his dog would appreciate it...

Making The Grade

The unofficial end of summer has passed, but someone forgot to remind Mother Nature. Sometimes, she works off her own schedule. I can tell the season has changed by the myriad of the new standard. Junior’s off to school so a photo op created on Facebook has become all the rage. My newsfeed is literally littered with offspring set for the Fall ritual. Me? I have decided to give my blog another try after a lengthy hiatus. Why? Maybe I just want to document the passage of time much like these perennial portrait parents.

But what shall be the subject of the scribe? The calendar may have changed...yet many things remain the same. This is in direct contrast to the parentally posed youngsters off to education. A year in grade school can be a microcosm of a lifetime. When I was younger it would start in late summer, when you found out who your teacher for the upcoming year would be. You would call on your neighborhood friends, hopeful that many of them would be in the same class. Little did you know that something so small and subtle, would define relationships for years to come. Almost like a birth announcement, you would proclaim...I am having Miss “So and  So” this year. Then like choosing sides for kickball, your friends would divulge their destinations. Unlike today, I don’t think anyone ever questioned their fate or requested a change. You got who you got...without choice.

The first day of school, as much as the disappointment of summer’s end still loomed over you, was an experience. You knew the teacher’s rep from older siblings, your’s or your friend’s...so you had an idea what to expect. In the mornings we would gather in the playground before class and the first day would be no different. When the whistle sounded, we would line up by grade. Each year you would move up in the pecking order. The youngest would enter the building first, the oldest would be granted the longest reprieve. Upon entering your new classroom you might have assigned seats, or it became a one time musical chair event as you scampered to cluster near your friends. This was it, your home for the next 10 months. There was no longer period of time in a child’s life than the school year.

The time would pass though. Like a rung on a ladder this was just the next step to take...but it seemed like a lifetime. During this time you would grow - both figuratively and literally. Almost like being on an assembly line, parts would be added to you to create the person you would become. Of course, each child would do with these parts what they wished. During the year divergent individuals would emerge. The brains and the bullies, the academias and athletes, the social ones and the shy ones...and the smelly kid. Every class would have them. While school itself was not responsible for where your destiny lies, it is where it came to the forefront. Good luck shaking a title once you were anointed...whether warranted or not.

This yearly routine would continue until you were off to Jr High or High School. There, multiple grade schools would funnel in their finest. Now, once again, you would be sorted...but grade school never prepared you for this. However, you would learn to adapt...

Kids have been doing it for years.

The Courtship of Max

Red

Recently I had my 30^th High School reunion. I had the chance to speak with a friend who I had not seen in almost seven years. She told me she read my blog and was surprised how little she knew about me back then. As we spoke she referred to me as a “Ginger”. Back in the day, and even earlier than that, the term “Red” was more commonly used.  It reminded me that used to be my moniker. She thought she didn’t know me before…wait til she reads this.

The summer of 1990 was drawing to a close. A few weeks earlier I had crossed paths with an old flame. I had not seen her in almost two years, but the embers of the distant romance quickly ignited. Now, we were going on a double date to the movies. I did not care what the feature might be, my focus was on her, and her alone. I was informed we were going to see “Goodfellas”, the film adaptation of the book “Wiseguys”. I vaguely recalled my parents clamoring over the book. I did not pay attention at the time, I was just surprised they were actually up on a best seller. That evening I was the last to be picked up and there she was sitting in the back seat. I opened the door and was greeted with a big smile…much like Marnie gave to Julius in the movie Twins. We arrived at the theater and I still had those tingles of a first date. As the lights dimmed I was more enamored with her than the big screen. I did not know much about this movie but settled in comfortably and closely with my sweetheart. About a quarter of the way through the movie actress Lorraine Bracco yelled at actor Ray Liotta “Henry Hill, if you ever do that again…” Henry Hill? I quickly sprang to attention in my seat. I asked was this based on a true story? I was informed it was, and didn’t I know? No, I didn’t. But at this point I knew everything that was going to happen in the movie…and I had never read a page of the book.

It was the spring of 1974. I was 8 years old and my Mom had just remarried. My Step Dad and Mom bought a nice new house up the block from my Grandparents. New house, new family…even a new dog.  Life looked like it would finally be normal for me…well, not quite. I always knew what my Step Dad did for a living before he married my Mom…wasn’t that hard to figure out.  On Sunday morning’s my Step Dad would take me out for breakfast, my Mom would sleep in. Our destination would be a diner not too far from our house…yes, THAT diner they depict in Goodfellas. And there they all were.  Jimmy “The Gent” Burke and Tommy DeSimone…among others. I stood out like a sore thumb. I was the proverbial redheaded stepchild. The Fellas asked who the kid was. My Step Dad always called me his son from day one, and this time was no different. “Yeah, Rocky…he looks just like you” they kidded. Then Jimmy called me over, “Hey, Red…come sit here with me”. He told me he was half Irish and don’t let the other guys bust your chops. We would go there every Sunday morning…the name “Red” stuck.

My Step Dad used to be a first mate on a fishing boat out of Sheepshead Bay. I can only assume that is where he became connected to the connected. It was in this same Brooklyn neighborhood we frequently went to dinner. It was a fancy place on the water named The Barge. In attendance were all the regulars from the diner…and then some. Even as a kid, I could tell that these unfamiliar faces ranked higher in the hierarchy. On the first night I was there we were called over to a small table. A gentleman with a big smile greeted us. He stuck out his hand to me and said, “This must be Red”. He introduced himself as Paulie and informed me he used to date my Mom…and that that was how my Step Dad had met her. Yes, this was Paul Cicero. He gave me some money for the jukebox and told me to at least play one Sinatra song for him. I guess they needed to talk a little business. For the next few years we would eat there like royalty…until the fire. If you have seen the movie, you already knew that was coming.

You may recall in the movie the Fellas were always going down to Florida…and we would be no different. I would frequently be pulled out of grade school for my snowbird trip down south. My family’s schedule revolved around us, not some silly academic calendar. My Step Dad set up his Mom and Sister in a hotel in Miami for the winter months. He would send my Mom and I off to Disneyworld in Orlando. After a few days we would be on our way to Miami too. My Step Dad would eventually meet up with all of us. I kid with my current friends who follow the Miami football team that I am amazed I did not become a Dolphins fan myself spending all this time down there. The days were filled with sun and sand, the nights were filled with lavish dinners. And wouldn’t you know it, the guest list was much of the same from Sheepshead Bay. My Mom would always have the Long Island Duckling. Of course my Step Dad would tease her with you came all the way to Miami to have a duck from Long Island.

These stories were the additions to the every day life. Normally school, sports and friends still dominated my time. However, every now and then the Feds, or “Bulls” would like to put pressure on the “Family”. You may recall a scene in Goodfellas when Lorraine Bracco lets them into her house and then she goes about her business like they weren’t even there. It was much of the same in our house. They came with search warrants but left with nothing. Nothing was ever left in the house. A large glass ashtray would sit upon the dinning room table. When the day was done, papers were burned in it like my Grandfather used to burn his leaves.

Money was no object back then and life was good.  From April of 1974 to December of 1978 it would go on like this…well until December 11, 1978 to be exact. One of the most daring heists of all time took place at Lufthansa at JFK Airport. It was all over the news but never spoke of in the house. The diner breakfasts stopped, the Brooklyn dinners went away and the trips to Miami would soon be no more. I didn’t know the reason at the time, but someone did not do what they were supposed to do and the Feds quickly identified the possible suspects. The Fellas were laying low from the law…and from each other. 1979 would be a very interesting year in the news. Fellas were either getting locked up or disappearing. Things began to change.

It was around this time I met him. My parents were friends with another couple who lived on our street…and were also business acquaintances. They were having a get together at their house and my parents brought me along since I had grown up with their two daughters. When we arrived, there was already another couple there. I spent the time downstairs with the girls until we could sense a bit of a commotion. I could hear that their Dad was angry with the man I had just met. Apparently he was doing coke in the bathroom. Her Dad was pissed that this guy was doing drugs while his kids were in the house. I actually knew their Dad longer than my Step Dad. He’d look out for me in the neighborhood since he knew my Mom was a single Mom. When he referred to “his kids” I knew I was included. He threw the man and his wife out of the house…both of them coked up. They are lucky that is all he did. This was my introduction to Karen and Henry Hill.

In April of 1980 Henry Hill was arrested…and he began to talk. Not only about the Lufthansa Heist, but about everything. The Fellas fell one by one as his testimony led to their incarceration. My Step Dad had seen the writing on the wall and he became paranoid…and with good reason. He was always a big drinker…as all the Fellas were. But his became worse. It all came to a head in September of 1980. I came home from being out with friends and my Mom was in a panic. My Step Dad was unconscious and turning blue…but luckily he was still breathing. Not waiting for an ambulance we carried him to the car and headed to Mercy Hospital. My Mom could always drive faster than an ambulance anyway. They pumped his stomach and when he awoke the doctor let him know he was lucky to be alive. He would never have a drop to drink again. The end of 1980 saw another change. He realized the "Family" days were ending. When he was younger, my Step Dad used to work in the Iron Works in East New York and luckily still had some connections. He was hired as a Foreman for his old yard and brought in a good salary. My half brother had just turned 5 and we got another dog. Life went on pretty normal for the next few years. Unfortunately Henry Hill was not done talking. For the more he talked, the less time he would face.

It was early June of 1983. My last few weeks of High School were dwindling down. As I was arriving home I noticed several Nassau County cop cars in front of my house. Now, this was not the same as the Feds years ago. They would show up by themselves in unmarked cars and suits. This was different. My first thought was that something happened to someone in the house. That was quickly debunked as the Feds brought my Step Dad out in handcuffs. I was shocked. This might have been something I would have expected years ago..but not know, not when things were almost normal. A few weeks later, the day before my graduation, I spent the afternoon in a courtroom in Downtown Brooklyn. It was there we learned that Henry Hill ratted out my Step Dad. By this time the Feds knew Henry Hill was not completely telling the truth.  He only kept feeding them with stories to keep himself alive and in the witness protection program. My Step Dad would be held without bail and would miss my graduation…and a lot more. It would seem they wanted him to sing for his freedom too. The man they really wanted was the guy who lived up the block…the one who threw Henry Hill out of his house a few years earlier. Was this some sort of vendetta against him and my Step Dad for that? At this time Henry Hill’s word was golden, so my Step Dad would remain at the Metropolitan Correctional Center. Saturdays in the summer of 1983 were spent traveling to MCC. My Step Dad was always in good spirits. A court date was never set, they had no intentions. They held him to talk, and whether he knew anything or not, he was not about to. Eventually the summer ended and it was time to go to college. I had discussed with my Mom if I should postpone it, but her and my Step Dad would hear none of it. Also, my Mom’s Dad still lived up the block so he was always around for support. Besides, how long can they keep him without a conviction?

1983 turned to 1984 and my Step Dad’s situation changed. They wanted to extradite him and the other man Henry Hill ratted on to Italy to face different charges. A few weeks into the year I found out that the other man had fallen to his death trying to escape from MCC. Rumor had it though, the Feds tossed him out the window after refusing to talk. I tended to believe this version of the story since he was the same man who once escaped from Riker’s Island. I doubted a minimal security prison could cause him such a problem. This did not bode well for my Step Dad.  I was planning to come home for February break when I got a call from my Mom. She was in tears. At first I thought it would be about my Step Dad, but it was not. My Grandfather had slipped on the ice walking one of our dogs. He lied there unconscious until he was found by the neighbor…the dog never leaving his side. My Grandfather was rushed into surgery. He never awoke from it. A few days later would be the wake and the funeral. After viewing hours, the Feds actually brought my Step Dad to the funeral home to say his last goodbyes. I wondered why they were being so nice. We would find out the next day. On the eve of my Grandfather’s funeral in February of 1984, my Step Dad was extradited to Italy to face charges there. It would seem Henry Hill stepped it up a notch.

I once again discussed with my Mom if I should return to college. She said the semester was already paid for and I would be back home soon enough.  Drexel being a co-op school I could work from June to December before returning to class in Philadelphia. I was lucky enough to land a job not too far from the house in Valley Stream. My weekly paycheck went to keep the family afloat. I would hold on to few dollars for gas and going out. When my Step Dad was in MCC we would talk every day and I would see him once a week. Now, being in Italy, communication with him ceased. We would get an occasional letter and the wording was bleak. Life went on as much as it could that summer. The second week of August my Mom decided she needed a break. She and my brother went to stay with friends upstate to get a way for a while. Could you blame her? She lost her Dad and pretty much her husband only months earlier. The Saturday of that week was spent pretty much the same for me. My friend’s parents had a cabana at Malibu beach. Many a Saturday we would arrive there early and spend the whole day…and today would be no different. That day I arrived home later in the evening and quite inebriated. I passed out on the couch and at about 5am in the morning the phone rang. It was a drunken groggy awakening. On the other end of the phone was a familiar voice…but it couldn’t be. It was my Step Dad. He informed me that they just released him without saying a word. Dumped him right out of the prison. He said he would work his way to the American consulate since he had no money, no nothing. He was surprised I did not know about it, he thought the family had been notified. I informed him this was the first we were hearing about it. I did not want to hang up the phone…it was like a lifeline to him, but I had to. I immediately called my Mom and she headed back home that morning. After a few days, my Step Dad would finally be returning, not just back to America, but home.

My Step Dad arrived to a warm welcome home reception…something out of Goodfellas, except this was true family. He had lost a lot of weight, which he actually needed to do, and was no worse for wear. He also informed us that he wrote very hopeless letters because he knew the Fed was reading them. He wanted them to think he was cracking. We should have known, he spoke Italian and was always a jovial sole so he made the best he could out of the situation. He felt the Feds finally got frustrated by him for never spilling his guts and just up and decided to let him go.

My Step Dad never did say a word. But funny, one word from a friend led me to write this story.