World War I, as historians have named it, did not end all of the wars, and in 20 years, the nations of the earth faced the worst world war mankind has ever known.  Continue reading
That’s the jury instruction I’d request a judge to provide when a witness at a trial said one thing one time and another thing at another time. Also, when one or more witnesses said something different than what the first witness had sworn to tell the truth about while sitting on the witness stand. Continue reading
I will never forget my old wooden desk in grade school and the drills we held in order to protect us from a nuclear blast.
The nuns from St. Ludwig’s Catholic School ordered us to get out of our seats and to curl up beneath the desks where we practiced the silence of Benedictine monks. Someone had pulled down the shades over the wide windows of the second-floor room, and we sat for long minutes that felt like hours.  Continue reading
He doesn’t play with me like he used to. I’d be the first thing he’d grab and put on his head when he went outside and pretend that he was Davy Crockett. A coonskin hat was meant for little boys and those wanting to be “King of the Wild Frontier.” But he has seen me less and less since that white plastic ball entered his life and got him swinging at it. Continue reading
“Surf Green” was the color of my 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air. I paid a whopping $300 for it when my barber offered it to me in 1967. I was working as a printer and had saved up enough money to pay him cash. Continue reading
Patty Ward, a Specialist 4 with a helicopter gunship, was shot down 50 years ago while flying to the aid of US Army soldiers during the Vietnam War. He was one of four men who died when their helicopter was hit and crashed.
Patty was awarded the Silver Star for bravery in connection with helping to rescue other grunts wounded in another battle. His family in the Fairmount section of Philadelphia received the medal posthumously.  Continue reading
While editorials from dozens of newspapers throughout the country are expected to be offered about the attacks on the First Amendment on August 16, I figured I’d get my two cents in as a former news reporter.  Continue reading
Are there moments in our life when we can see God’s fingerprints or the Will of the Universe directing us along our path? I’m talking about seeing such a Divine event as it is occurring or upon hindsight years later.
That’s the question raised by a group of my friends at the Spiritual Sharing Circle that meets once a month at the Center for Contemporary Mysticism in the Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia.  Continue reading
Joy filled my soul as I read that the 12 boys trapped in a flooded cave in Thailand were thinking of entering a monastery in honor of the former Navy SEAL who gave his life in an effort to save them.  Continue reading
That is the message gracefully displayed at the gravesite of my favorite Founding Father in the City of Philadelphia. He was an ambassador to both England and France, as well as a signer of the Declaration of Independence and contributor to the US Constitution. He was also an inventor, a philosopher, and the creator of the first library, the first zoo, and the first fire company in the New World.
Padre Pio has a close connection with Philadelphia because of a woman who called in a prayer to bring her sick child to see him in 1968, and the blessing he granted that led to her miracle cure just a few weeks before he died.  Continue reading
Memorial Day always brings back memories of the Vietnam War and one of the soldiers I served with who I called a friend and a true “comrade-in-arms.” He was Victor Lee Ellinger, a fellow who lived in Staunton, VA. He was shot and killed by an enemy sniper while leading a platoon some 50 miles outside of Saigon. Continue reading
Writing has opened me to a world above and beyond my five senses and I feel like an H.G. Wells whenever I revisit the past and recall what life was like when I was fortunate enough to stop the world for a few brief moments and write about something. Continue reading
Songs have a way of taking me back to a time of my life that provided milestones for the path leading me to where I am today.
We all have them, those cherished ones that we hold dear. Some of which may cause a tear to flow, a shit-eaten grin to form. I recently thought of five of ‘em and simply wanted to share them with “Old Folks at Home” who might also remember them.  Continue reading
If it wasn’t for an intervention by an Italian crime boss, I don’t believe I would be here today.  Continue reading
The best example of PTSD ever portrayed in a movie was offered by John Goodman in “The Big Lebowski” when the character, a Vietnam veteran, pulls a gun on a fellow bowler and threatens to shoot him for crossing a line and attempting to enter a score in a book.  Continue reading
Father Koenig put the gloves on me when I was ten years old and directed me toward the kid who was my same size but some two years older. That kid – Billy McLaughlin – kicked my butt. But I never cried or gave up as I swung wildly at him in an effort to land my own punches.  Continue reading
She stared at me as I walked from the courtroom, and I felt her hate bore into me. Her whole posture seemed to drip with contempt, and what I could only feel at that moment was a curse from her whole being.  Continue reading
That was the title of my first job when I was 15 years old. Somebody from the old neighborhood got me hired in downtown Philadelphia, and I took the bus to get to work on weekends and after school days.
A steady drip from the faucet of my kitchen made my day today as I shouted “Halleluiah” during one of the worst snowstorms of my entire life.  Continue reading
I remember . . . cutting the back of my hand while running beneath the boardwalk in Atlantic City. It is the earliest memory I can recall. I couldn’t have been any more than three or four and cannot for the life of me remember anything else I had done at that moment in time. Continue reading
It struck me as I slowly made my way from the floor of the plane and stood in the center of the walkway. There were at least 30 other soldiers on the C-140, a military aircraft that was flying over the field where those of us in jump school would soon be taking our first jump.  Continue reading
I didn’t want to go to Vietnam. Who did back in 1968? I was never a gung-ho type of guy, even though I’d go a little berserk when a buddy of mine got attacked by some bully at home or in school.  Continue reading
My mother hit me upside the head when she caught me drinking beer in the Big Moose Bar up the street from where we lived.
I was 16 years old at the time and sipping a Ballantine beer with a friend from Dobbins Technical High School. Someone must have ratted me out, as my good friend Joe Walsh and I — both young white guys — drank in the African American bar in a section of Philadelphia called Brewerytown. Continue reading
I was born Out of Wedlock.
That kind of makes me a Bastard!
Some have called me that, and I guess they knew more about my life than I ever did.  Continue reading
Laughter. It’s good to hear in most life situations. It can be contagious and cause people to drop their serious attitudes and see a lighter side of things.
You need it, particularly when times get tough. And if you hang out with the type of people who laugh a lot, you might even hear some gallows humor. You’ll find it among soldiers, cops, and nurses as well as ditch diggers, new priests, and first-aid workers.  Continue reading
I took a leave of absence from my work as a newspaper reporter to serve as a union organizer years ago. I had helped to negotiate several contracts at the Pottstown Mercury and only took the job when I was overlooked for a copy editor position at the paper.  Continue reading
John Facenda was Philadelphia’s favorite newscaster when I was growing up. He was suave and debonair, kind of like a Cary Grant with a voice that captured your immediate attention, whether it be about shenanigans going on in city government or sports actions through NFL replays. Continue reading
I display the pewter plaque prominently at my front door so that anyone leaving my house can see what has meant to me more than any awards I hang in my Feng Shui home. Continue reading
With that phrase starting one of most memorable country songs in the 196os, I began my life as a man, a soldier, and a leader of an infantry platoon in the Vietnam War.  Continue reading
For a brief moment, I thought of praying that he would immediately die for cutting in front of me as I was doing 60-miles-an-hour on the expressway behind a car just five lengths in front of me. I beeped my horn and flashed my high beams at the driver. I relished in the hatred I felt burning inside of me. I loathed him from the bottom of my heart and wanted a bloody accident to befall ‘em. Continue reading
A fellow I worked with got a luke-warm endorsement for a man running to be the next district attorney of Philadelphia, and I believe it will go a long way in ensuring justice is served in my old hometown. Continue reading
I heard the word “Satsang” yesterday, and it reminded me of a journey I started a half a lifetime ago when I had hit rock bottom and sought answers to the meaning of life.
Satsang is a Sanskrit word that means “gathering together for the truth” or, more simply, “being with the truth.” According to sources from India, Truth is what is real, what truly exists. Continue reading
Today we have the Dollar Store but when I was growing up, we kids enjoyed the old Five and Dime Store. Continue reading
Thích Nhất Hạnh looked at me from the most sorrowful eyes I have ever seen, and I understood what it was like for a person to feel all the suffering the world is experiencing.
I had attended a five-day silent retreat at Blue Cliff Monastery in upstate New York with some thousand others who meditated morning, noon, and night. Someone would ring a bell as you walked through the monastery grounds and just like clockwork, everyone would stop what they were doing and rest in the present moment.  Continue reading
I’d like to buy Peace for the world even for just one day. To see Muslims hug Jews and Protestants, smiling and shaking hands with Catholics, would be a wonderful sight.
Have Greeks and Albanians forgive and forget what the Turks might have done. Let the Irish march this St. Patrick’s Day with British royalty in the streets of New York.  Continue reading
Can you believe it? I did it by visualizing myself getting into a shirt I haven’t worn since I put on extra weight. It’s part of a course I took entitled “Tap into Your Genius” and is based on the teachings of Dr. Joe Dispenza.  Continue reading
To me, it’s a big deal for it is something I haven’t done in quite a while. You see, I have prostate problems. I got diagnosed with it while at the VA hospital, and I take medication every night, but no matter what I do, I still have to get up in the middle of the night and take a pee.  Continue reading
I experienced the Presence of God when I was 12 years old but didn’t know it until some fifty years later when I meditated and realized how much the Divine had filled me when I was praying for a girl I had just met on that glorious pre-teenage weekend. Continue reading
I can’t think of anything to write about. I feel lost, adrift, less than human.
That is what happens when you make writing your life’s love. You want to write all of the time and never be too far away from what writing can do for you. Can do to you!  Continue reading
I cannot recall the one and only time I saw myself perform on television with my singing group, even though it was one of the highlights of my life.
I sang bass for a Doo Wop group in the late 1960s as we appeared on the Super Lou Dance Show. We sang two songs, which were recorded by a film crew. The performance was taped in front of a live audience for Channel 29, a UHF Station with its studio at Old York Road in the Philadelphia suburb of Jenkintown. (Philadelphia had three UHF stations – Channels 17, 29, and 48.)
We auditioned for the show’s emcee at his Northeast Philadelphia home, and he agreed to performance a few weeks later. We purchased matching shirts like the one Seinfeld wore for his television appearance and we practiced two songs from our “Golden Oldies” repertoire.
Five Jaunts on the Super Lou Show
I remember walking onto the dance floor and staring at the bright lights that lit us up for the camera. My voice was the first one heard because I opened with a bass sound to start the Rock & Roll beat. I was advised later to remove my glasses because the lights shone too brightly and the reflection was distracting.
All went well with the show, and I’ll never forget Super Lou speaking to us at the end, stating my name as the “boom, boom” man! I couldn’t smile any brighter than I did at that wonderful moment. We sounded good, and I can tell you there is nothing more divine sounding than harmonizing in a group!
————
We called ourselves The Five Jaunts. The night of our television appearance, we also “appeared” at a party held by Bob Palumbo in his mom’s house in the Brewerytown section of Philadelphia. I remember how a cute little redhead kept giving me the eye. I got my very own “groupie,” I thought, but failed to get her more interested in a more intimate relationship with me.
The problem is, however, I cannot remember seeing us sing on television. I have no memory whatsoever and I wonder today if I’m experiencing the early stages of Alzheimer’s disease. I simply can’t recall the television viewing even though I can remember the performance.
I do have lots of memories of singing together, and I am so grateful that someone made a copy of our television appearance. While you can’t see us perform, you can at least listen to The Five Jaunts. Give a listen here:
(Only the second selection works. Sorry . . .)
(For another story of the Five Jaunts, check this out: The Five Jaunts.)
Someone from 100 different countries has viewed this site and my flag counter can attest to the number of nations represented here.
I started to write a Blog some seven years ago and hooked up with a link that not only counted the number of persons viewing Contoveros, but determined which country that person was from. I placed the flag counter at the top of my Blog so that anyone — including myself — could readily see it on linking into Contoveros. It’s at my home site.
(See Flag Counter for the latest count. Trinidad is the latest country added to my list!)  Continue reading
Alexander giggled like a schoolboy as 40 of us gathered for a service on Sunday and quietly attempted to meditate for about 30 minutes.
Wait a minute. He is a schoolboy. Alexander was just 14 years old yesterday when he attended the Tibetan Buddhist Center of Philadelphia with his mother. I was sitting next to the youth, and about halfway through the gathering, a sound erupted from the other side of the room. It sounds like someone adjusting a metal chair on the wooden floor, but to a young mind like that of Alexander, it also sounded like someone farting.  Continue reading
I learned to meditate more easily while riding on a train.
I had tried sitting mediation alone and with others, but was successful only once, and I really don’t know what I was doing. I was following a guru – a 15-year-old teacher from India — before I had turned 30, and I mingled with aspirants in an ashram in Philadelphia. I never touched Nirvana or reached the level that others seemed to rise to. Continue reading
I could die really cool when I was a kid.
I’d pretend that I was a soldier on a mission with a rifle in my hands as I made my way through enemy territory. I’d carry a tree limb most of the time and walk through pathways in a jungle we called Fairmount Park.  Continue reading
Each day I get down on my knees and tell the Universe how grateful I am for at least three things in my life.  Continue reading
I don’t think my son knows enough about me to write a good obituary. And so, for 2017, I hope to sit down and look back on my life and offer highlights to appear in the Philadelphia Inquirer if it should still be publishing years from now.  Continue reading
Writing opens me to a world within that I usually don’t visit unless I’m asleep or go into a meditative state. I let go of most thoughts except the one that crops up as I focus on a subject, or rather, it reveals itself to me.  Continue reading
A “dead-dog-loser” is the name trial lawyers gave to cases no one expected you to win in court. I had a few of them and always tried my best to get a defendant to plead guilty before making a fool of myself and him by calling his case “ready” for trial. Continue reading
There is a message I receive every time I travel to the IKEA store and visit the “As Is” department. I get a feeling that the Universe is telling me to open myself to the message the Swedish furniture store wants to share with the rest of the world.
Accept life “As Is,” it softly calls out to me. Continue reading
Chocolate was my favorite flavor Tootsie Roll Pop. Cherry was my second. I don’t remember the first time I licked one. I must have gotten the candy at age five or six years old. Continue reading
– a student of Losang Samten. Tibetan Buddhist Monk
My greatest concern when I placed the political signs on my lawn was whether they would offend someone in my neighborhood. I live in a working class section of Pennsylvania, some 15 miles outside of Philadelphia. It was dependent on steel and manufacturing for many years, but eventually saw a decline as jobs left the little borough of Conshohocken for elsewhere. Continue reading
Dear Mr. Trump,
I never felt “weak” when I started feeling the rage that grew in me from Post-Traumatic Stress following 25 years after leading an infantry platoon in Vietnam. Continue reading
My Uncle Mike was a grizzly white haired Greek who spoke little to no English when my father invited him to stay in our house in North Philadelphia. I don’t know if he really was a blood relative, but he was one of the meanest mother-humpers I had ever come into contact with as a child. Continue reading
If I had a magic wand, I’d wave it all over my body, magically ordering it to relax and begin to accept all the good and the bad life has to throw at me
I would want to treat it all with equanimity.  Continue reading
September 29th is Michaelmas Day, the Feast of Saint Michael the Archangel, when everyone with the moniker of Michael will feel the roots extending from our favorite saint. Continue reading
When the Good Lord created the Universe, He created order out of chaos. He instilled Free Will in earthlings, something he withheld from the angels of whom He created first. Continue reading
I wanted to shoot the political sign I saw outside of Philadelphia the other day but ended up feeling sorry for all of us who react violently against the person we demonize on the other side of the aisle. Continue reading
If I had my druthers, I think I would have made cats and dogs more like people and made people more like the other animals.
Yes, as God, I would have changed the Book of Genesis and created the dog first, and then, taking a rib from the first one, I would have created his loving mate and good friend, the cat. Continue reading
I had my recurring dream again last night. For several years, I have gone to work at the daily newspaper, dreaming that the deadline for submitting copy was just minutes away and I had typed nothing about my story for the day.  Continue reading
You’ll never find me here.
I learned years ago that I could hide away from you whenever I feel you’re looking too closely at me or expecting me to act a certain way that I really don’t want to act, to speak, or to even think. Continue reading
“Twelve Angry Men” influenced my decision to practice law more than any movie I can remember while growing up in a working-class neighborhood of Philadelphia and being the first in my family to go to college. The movie has done more for understanding the workings of our criminal justice system than any books or school classes could possibly provide. Continue reading
“What the hell do you have to lose?” Donald Trump shouted to the all-white audience while pretending he was asking African Americans to vote for him last week.
In response, Chris Rock responded with one word: “Everything.” Continue reading
I was unashamed of the tears that fell while watching the father of a young soldier describe the sacrifice his son made for America the other night. Khizr Khan, a Muslim immigrant, spoke with pride at the Democratic Convention and I couldn’t help but see my father in him and the love all parents felt for children called by our nation to defend it. Continue reading
“The First Dude!”
Well, what do you think?  Continue reading
Playing is something I do quite well, if I do say so myself. I enjoyed it ever since I was a kid and don’t see how I could truly enjoy my life if I didn’t incorporate some sort of play in my daily living.  Continue reading
I’m stuck in the middle of the Vietnam War, and I don’t know how to get out. I got the beginning and the end of the story completed. It’s the middle that is causing me problems. I want to show how I got to where I was, and then what happened when I got out of there alive. Continue reading
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just thought you needed to know, that’s all.”
Peaches said nothing as we sat on the floor of her vestibule. I saw her eyes water up a little and I wanted to cry myself.
“I still love her” I continued without looking at the young girl I had shared such an intimate moment with at the young age of 19.
“I guess I never stopped loving her, if you want to know the truth.”
“You were her best friend in high school and you knew her as much as anybody did” I said, asserting a belief that neither one of us could deny. “I would break up with her, but we’d always got back together every time. You knew that when we first dated.”
“I should have been honest with you. But I liked you, I still like you. And wouldn’t hurt you for anything. But I don’t love you. I love Peggy, and I guess I always will.” Continue reading
I cried when I saw a woman comforting a black police officer who was helping others get hospital treatment from an assassin’s attack in the streets of Dallas last night. The cop was like many I knew in the legal profession, good guardians of the peace who laid their lives on the line every day to protect us civilians, particularly those of us in the inner cities. Continue reading
Can someone become the “muse” of another?
Could my reckless and often unabashed “agitation” be the instigation for another person to find the voice she needed to speak directly from her soul?
I like to think so. I believe I might have sparked a keg of memories that were waiting for the right moment and touch to manifest and explode for the world to finally see. Continue reading
“You can’t replace Trouble, no matter what you say,” I said to my wife Wendy. “He was my favorite cat, the only one that could not only catch those dirty squirrels, but also behead them and leave their carcasses behind, sans their squirrely little heads. There’ll never be another one like him.”
————
‘No, I’m not trying to replace Trouble,” my wife answered me. “It’s just that our son Nicholas could use another pet, and the one we found at the Kitty Cottage is so adorable, I thought that any pet lover would welcome her into their home. Give her a chance. I know you’ll warm up to her and treat her as a member of the family in no time.”
———–
Sundance the cat looks out for me and for you
————
Sundance is now this cat-lovers’ most lovable feline ever!
(For more, please see: Unconditional Love from a Cat.)
By TEA
It was Saturday morning, May the 19th of 2012. I awoke that early morning feeling well rested. Since the beginning of the new year, I have been working Monday through Thursday, having Fridays off. In the past, when working a full week, my Saturdays were spent sleeping in and catching up on the many hours of sleep lost during the week. Continue reading
“Don’t do it Michael,” my ex-wife told me when I began planning for a debate between the candidates running for lieutenant governor of Pennsylvania in 1978. I didn’t listen to her, and I spent too much time and money on an effort that failed miserably, and kept my dreams of entering politics a nightmare that I never again wanted to materialize. Continue reading
“My grandfather lied to my grandmother. I guess it runs in the family. *
But I never got married while I still had a family. That’s what I’m talking about. He lied about being married at the time he married the only grandmother I ever knew Continue reading
I saw the singer and songwriter Paul Simon last night, and he’s “still crazy after all these years.”  Continue reading
I’ve never been so proud of being an American as I was the past week when some forty members of the Senate held an unprecedented filibuster and it was followed up by Congressional Democrats who took the House Chamber hostage for a “sit-in” protest against our nation’s inability to halt the sale of high-powered weapons now being used for mass destruction. Continue reading
“My fingertips write like a boy left alone at home.”
He senses a freedom that he has sought for so many years but never realized he had the ability to dig into until the moment he wrote his first sentence to a story.
Was it in grade school that he first discovered the secret? It could have been Sister Josephine Francis who instilled the love of writing while guiding the boys and girls in writing with or without the Palmer method. Continue reading
Why is anger my “go-to” emotion? Why does it crop up whenever I’m confronted with something I don’t understand or something I feel threatened by?
“Crop up“ is not the right phrase to use. My anger “erupts.” It goes from zero to sixty within the span of a millisecond. It always seemed to be that way, even as a kid. Now at last I think I know why. Continue reading
If you could go back in time to attend a Meet-Up in Jerusalem with the famous rabbi from Nazareth to share some bread, wine and good conversation, would you sign up and go?
How about traveling back some 2,600 years to give a listen to the Four Noble Truths in northern India by a fellow who some claim had reached enlightenment? Would you agree to meet weekly to discuss life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness? Continue reading
It should be as simple as that! If the federal government has reasonable suspicion to place you on a terrorist “No Fly List,” you should also be barred from buying guns.
No ands, ifs, or buts.  Continue reading
Cut back, Michael J. Simply cut back like the sandlot football running back you played as a kid while scampering on a field in Philadelphia’s Fairmount Park.
You can’t go “cold turkey” on a lifestyle you’ve been living for more than 30 years. But you can choose to limit the amount of news you take in on a daily or even an hourly basis.  Continue reading
I took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Peggy’s mother, Mary, answered and said “Hello, Michael.” She didn’t invite me in, but smiled, and I kind of smiled back.  Continue reading
I typed this over and over again, hoping that one day I’d learn the fine skill of typing as I sat in a class with all girls. Young women, I should say. I was the only male in the Delaware County Community College course of study, and I never once felt out of place or unusual.
I wanted to be a journalist, you see. So, I figured I had to learn the fine art of typing to file my stories. Continue reading
You should never call a woman a bitch.
Particularly if she’s wearing a long black robe and has the power to throw you in jail for anything deemed to be contempt of court. Her Court, that is. Continue reading
I love Coca-Cola. It has been my favorite drink since I don’t remember when. I guess it all started with the small green bottles that you had to use an honest-to-goodness bottle opener to crack open. Continue reading
My second wife stopped breathing shortly after they placed her in the emergency vehicle en route to a hospital some eight years ago. The day was six-months to date of her first bout with an emergency wagon when she fell in our Conshohocken, PA, home, suffering a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI).
She remained in a coma for more than five days. This time, however, they were more certain that she would not recover from her latest, unplanned date with Miss Fate. A nurse or a social worker at the Hospital suggested I contact a priest to say the last rites for Wendy. Continue reading
My son, Nicholas, just didn’t seem to understand how much pain I suffered in Sutcliffe Park when I took him to see fireworks on clear and starry night sky on the Fourth of July some years ago.
At first, I enjoyed the rockets zooming into the air. They were colorful red, white, and blue explosions that took your breath away with gasps of wonder and awe.
Soon, however, they took on a menacing demeanor, as each blast began to remind me of the Vietnam War and the rounds of mortar fire that fell on me and my platoon some 30 years earlier.  Continue reading
I’ve opened my mind to a new way of seeing and I am free as long as I can keep my peripheral vision on anything but the object of my focus.
What I do is distract myself from looking at the car in front of me when I’m cruising on the highway. I set my gaze off in the distance, where I take in the beautiful blue skies interrupted now and again by a while cloud.  Continue reading
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