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Random deleted blog rantings:

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1996-97
A week after my 30th birthday I was standing at Columbus circle in Manhattan. Local 3 rented an auditiourm there for us to vote on working without a contract or going on strike. The place was crowded and the rumors concerning "what if?" were non-stop.I wasn't worried at all. All the elevator shops were busy with plenty of work. The last strike only lasted one week.Instead I talked about the large fountain in the middle of the large circle. A mechanic named Tom once poured gallons of liquid laundry detergent into the fountain to create bubbles. It worked but the fountain needed to be shut down for a few weeks after that.Local 3 represenatives wanted us on strike. They told us that working without a contact could mean not getting paid for the holidays. They said our pay rate could be lowered during the labor negioations. They were wrong on both accounts. And they knew it. But mechanics feared working without a contract, and limited union support.When the votes were counted we were on strike without any clue when negioations would even start. I had a mortgage, car loan and two kids in diapers. Gregory was also drinking formula like a thirsty soccer player.I applied to a Newday ad requesting escalator mechanics for the train system in Washinton D.C. It was the best move I could make but it required me to move and to fake fixing escalators. I never worked on an escalator so faking it would be interesting.That auditorium is no longer there.





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Albert Einstein proved that time does not exist. "People like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion."

What is stress?
Stress is the emotional and physical strain caused by our response to pressure from the outside world. “Stress is nothing more than a socially acceptable form of mental illness”

Most of that pressure is time related. We never seem to have enough time. This lack of time is more apparent during the very busy holiday season.

What is suppose to consume our time?

Sleep: 8 hours a day.
Work: 8 hours a day.
Commute to/from work: 1 hour a day.
Health-
Exercise: 1 hour a day.
Tooth brushing: 10 minutes per day
Shower: 10 minutes per day
Shaving: 5 minutes per day
Eating (includes preparing food): 65 minutes per day
Family time: 4.5 hours per day
Church: One Mass per week=10 minutes per day.
Reading: 1 hour per day

Have a car? Maintenance of a car will cost you more time. Accident and/or ticket? More time consumed.

Have a hobby? You should be doing some stuff you enjoy. How do you make the time?

Have a pet? Television? Computer? House? Sick relative? Laundry? Birthday party? Lawn? Kids?!

Now, for one month, add in Christmas shopping and family gatherings.

Total it all up and it comes to over 24 hours a day. Surprised? I thought not.

So here comes the fun part. We consciously begin to make priorities. No matter which area we cut time from we pay the price in other ways. And create stress!

No time to exercise gets us fat. No time to shower gets us lonely.

Want to multitask? Good luck!

Many people fantasize about hitting the lottery because freeing up time would be more enjoyable than buying stuff. Many websites and books dedicate themselves to relieving stress. But in reality the best way to lower stress is to understand the time factors work against us. We cannot possibly accomplish all that we should be doing in 24 hours. Let alone what we want to do.

In 1955 Albert Einstein, the man who proved time does not exist, died of old age.

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Building superintendents run a building and they drink coffee. They may work alone, in a small building, or head a department in larger buildings. He (usually a "he") needs a broad range of mechanical knowledge and access to hardware, paint, tools and cleaners. He is the man who signs out work order. He cleans up the carpet tracks when we lose direction and common sense.
Elevator "repair mechanics" replace hoist cables, burnt out motors and large machine bearings. The repair mechanic will spend about one or two days in a building before moving on to the next job. (In comparison the elevator "maintenance mechanic" figures out why the newly installed electric motor doesn't turn.)
A quintessential elevator "repair mechanic" is usually slow moving. He has a large frame and a few tattoos. Tom, a quintessential repair mechanic, also has reputation for being a little crazy even for a repair mechanic. Two stories follow him throughout the industry.
Tom needed to remove an old motor from a six storey building. He believed he could drop it down the shaft instead of walking it down the long and boring staircase. He asked the office about it while standing next to his helper, Joe. Tom's supervisor said "Let it sail!"
He dropped the motor down the elevator shaft. That motor hit a beam and went through a wall in a museum, knocking over a $5,000 statue. When the big boss found out the supervisor claimed he did not give any permission to Tom to drop anything. Tom took Joe in front of the big boss. Joe denied hearing "let it sail" from anyone. When they were outside Joe asked "You didn't expect to me rat, did you?" Tom was given two weeks off without pay.
Tom left work early one day (most days really) and his new helper made the mistake of informing the office. Tom hung his helper off a rooftop by his ankles. A simple and effective way of teaching helpers to keep their mouth shut.
In 1988 I traveled to work on the Long Island Rail Road with Tom and a few other elevator mechanics. We would sit in the same car. We spoke very little of work. Like most people, we would rather read the paper and/or sleep. A small group of men, myself included, would change at Jamaica for the diesel train to Hunters Point Avenue. Each day we would jump off the train as it was slowing down in the station. We didn't want to walk back from where the train actually stopped. Like parachuter's awaiting the red light, we jumped in sequence. Tom usually went first. We would climb down onto the tracks and cross over multiple tracks to a dead end street. One block later was a coffee shop.

Naked Tree

This years Christmas tree was first spotted by Megan behind our Volunteer Fire Department.

I never understood the point of cutting down a living tree for a religious purpose. Add in the fire and mold hazard and you have an appointment with disaster.

While shopping for a tree two years ago, in an unprovoked attack, my only son smashed a slush ball against the back of my head. As I reached for his throat I was stopped by the Christmas spirit. Or it was Lisa, I'm not sure.

A fake tree is safer. Cost less over time, saves time and is slightly less work to install.

So why do I battle the weather, cough up the cash and kill an afternoon? Why do I lie awake wondering if the toxic arborvitae has enough water?

Because my wonderful wife grew up with a real Christmas tree. Thanks Grandma.

Barber shop

When we lived in North Babylon I always went to the same barber shop and waited for Joel's chair. Joel usually has a line of hairy men waiting for his scissor talent. Joel rides a Kawasaki Eliminator. Even after we moved I drove back to the Babylon barber once a month, for a few months.

Then I started getting my haircut in Manhattan during lunch. It saved time. Genaro works on 35th Street and 7th Avenue. He too has a real passion for haircuts and is also a biker. When I took the night shift I had difficulty being in Manhattan during the day. It worked out only once and I explained to Genaro that his customer was only lost temporarily. Eventually (but I hope never) I will go back to the day shift.

Wherever I've gotten my haircut I noticed two types of barbers. Those who work quickly and those who are more concerned about a job well done. It could be true of most people and how they approach their job. But barbers perform their work in front of a live auidence, consisting of multiple customers. Those customers soon realize which barbers cut hair well. Not which barber is quickest to finish. Saturday mornings are usually the busiest time for haircuts. On that morning the quicker barber will make more money. But that's the only time. The quick worker will be bored most days while people line up to visit the meticulous stylist.

One advantage to my nocturnal shift is less crowded barber shops during the weekdays.
My current barber shop has three chairs. Benny, John and Ben. It's a little confusing to have a Benny and a Ben in the same small shop.

One noticeable difference with this particular barber shop is the air compressor hoses attached under each of the three main mirrors. Those yellow hoses stick out when you first sit down. They use the compressed air instead of a blow-dryer when dusting off cut hair from their customers. It works well and I wonder why more places don't have this.

My first visit to this barber shop landed me in Ben's chair, furthest from the window. On the first visit you have to take your chances with which barber you get. Ben did a good job without rushing. So I went back a few times and requested the same person. Eventually the other barbers figured out I would wait for Ben so no words were necessary when I entered. I could just point and nod my head towards the chair near the wall.

I noticed that most customers waited for Benny, in the chair next to the window. Benny cut hair well and quickly. But that's not what made him popular. He was the most popular barber because of his friendly conversation. I sat in Benny's chair only twice. Both times Ben had a day off. (I never kept track of which days which barber worked.) He worked quickly both times. On the second seating he remembered me and my hair style. "Short flat-top?" He confirmed before starting.

On the Tuesday before Thanksgiving Ben cut my hair. Benny was working next to the window. When I was done I decided to go across the street, to SevenEleven, for coffee. I offered to buy both of them some coffee. Both declined. (I will eventually do a whole blog just on coffee etiqutte.)

Today's grooming was different. When I entered the place I noticed a new face near the window. As usual I sat down with Ben, near the wall. My first question "Whose rotating the barbers?" was asked with a smile but none was returned.
"Benny was hit by a car" Ben answered.
"Oh. Is he okay?" I calmly asked
"No. He was killed. He was closing up just over a week ago. He was walking across the street to get some coffee."

Life is too fragile. Too short.
The rest of my haircut was in silence. Partly because of the little electric buzzer.

It's better to give...

Why do we blog? I'm not exactly sure.

Some gifts don't come from Santa. What are most kids asking for this Christmas? I went to muliple stores one morning searching for that gift. If you really need to know which gift it is you need to open a newspaper. Or shoot me an email because kids (my kids) read this blog too.

Yesterday I called a store to ask about a very popular item. The lady said 18 will be in stock on Sunday morning. Rebecca and Gregory are serving at the 8:30 Mass. I would have to go to another Mass by myself. My plan was to get to the mall early and buy one. Too many Long Islanders had the same plan. Furthermore their idea of "early" was earlier than my own.

So I did a drive-by. I was not envious of the 18+ people waiting in the small snowstorm.

I got to Mass a little late this morning. Lisa wasn't happy to see me because of the stench of failure. We been trying to get this item for weeks. (Next Sunday I need to venture out even earlier.)

Elizabeth has a friend who works where our most wanted item is sold. We now have that friend on speed-dial. Do parents need a support group, or team, to get results?

But what about Christmas past? I did score an Elmo doll when it was popular. We have the gift giving moment on video because we thought it would be a great. Megan was in shock as it began to have it's epileptic fit and tossed it down in fear. Elmo is very lonely in our house.

I was too young to care about buying a Cabbage Patch doll. And too old to want one.

When I arrived late at Mass, Father Tom spoke of the commercialization of Christmas.

Hutch droppings

Back in the 80's my friend Steve found a plastic crucifix on top of a box, in someones garbage. He carried it a few blocks to my house where he placed in on the wall in the kitchen nook.

Steve laughed and said "I bet if you don't say anything to anyone that cross will stay there forever".

An idea popped into my head.

When Lisa and I purchased our first house in N. Babylon we were left with a few lawn Nomes. They were happy little ceramic creatures locked up in our shed. As I was tossing them in the garbage I thought "hey, this would look better on someones lawn". So I spent the next few weeks sneaking around at night and placing them on the property of unsuspecting relatives. Soon people were asking "Where did this come from? How did it get here?" We also had a spare one on our lawn. What secured my anonymity was the work of my Dad. He dropped one off for me at Diane's house when I was sick like a dog. Everyone knew I was sick and couldn't have gone out that night. Dad giggled like a kid when he explained his accomplishment as an accomplice.

Instead of going through people's garbage to find a random item I will venture to the dollar store and buy them by the dozen. When I'm invited over someones house I will discreetly decorate their house. Hopefully the item will never leave it's new home.

What I didn't account for was my children watching me drop off these beautiful works of art. They giggled as they looked at the new addition on the hutch.
They couldn't wait years for someone to discover the glass owl, or dark purple candle holder. They needed to share the joy immediately.

One Summer day Kristine was shopping in the Holbrook Dollar King. She screamed "Mom! This is where Uncle Jim gets all his supplies!"

So I'm no longer invited over people's houses unless I agree to a strip search upon arrival.

Out of order

In the middle of the night, when most are sleeping, my job is to repair elevators and, sometimes, remove trapped people from them.

On a warm December day in 1988, as a helper, I was sent to a 220 CPS to remove passengers from a stuck elevator. I went via subway with an older gentleman named Donald. Donald had pure white hair which, I assumed, was the color after gray. Donald later retired from two full time jobs. He was a Foreman at American Elevator and, at night, he worked for the MTA.

I held Donald's toolbox as we traveled underground. His toolbox was old too. The worn handle had been repaired many times.

Donald didn't talk much and walked slowly. In 1988 I haven't yet realize that my career-destiny was to fix elevators so I didn't have any interest in talking with him either.

As we emerged from the subway in Columbus Circle I could see the building we needed to get to just down the block. I walked slightly faster. Donald suddenly made a right turn into a deli! I asked "What about the people trapped?" He leaned over and said "They're safe in there. Let's get some coffee."

My addiction to coffee came years later. I got a small container of orange juice and waited for his eggs to cook. We went outside and sat on a bench in Central Park. I couldn't enjoy my oj. I was thinking about people across the street, down the block, stuck in an elevator.

When the right moment had come Donald slowly got up and I picked up his old tool box.

When we entered the lobby the super, Ramon, was standing there. "I just got them out" Ramon said.

Donald whispered to me "That's what we wanted. The building super or a Fireman can get them out. Let someone else be responsible for their safety. We just need to repair the metal junk in the shaft. And if we don't fix it someone else will. No pressure."

The lesson was easy. But I have yet to delay my journey to any elevator entrapment on purpose. During those moments before arrival, the coffee doesn't taste right.

Teenager gets warm welcome

13 years ago today I watched Lisa dress Megan for the first time. Megan was very patient with her as Lisa took her time being very careful. First the diaper (no pins!) then the funny shaped t-shirt with snaps on the bottom. An amazed nurse commented "She is being such a good baby".
Each morning when Megan woke up she would begin to talk to herself. Never crying. I would lie in bed with Lisa and listen to her sounds. Needing food and a diaper change, she was patient in getting attention.
On her first birthday Megan got a green wagon. Snow was on the ground as I pulled her around the neighborhood. We hit a small bump and Megan went backwards, landing face up in the cold snow. I took two steps backwards expecting to pick up a screaming child. Megan was silent. She was being patient with my inept wagon driving skills. A few seconds later we were making tracks in the snow once again.
When Megan hugs you she gently pats your back; she is consoling you. Her hugs have real feelings in them.
In Kindergarten Megan brought home a worksheet with a picture of a large animal. The letter Y was being learned. I thought the animal was a yak. It wasn't. It was an Ox wearing a yoke. When I couldn't think of the word 'yoke' Megan suggested we wait until Mommy comes home. "Are you saying Mommy is smarter than me?" I inquired. "Don't worry Daddy.... you're stronger" she replied. This ox laughed for a long time.
In 4th grade I watched Megan doing homework. For no reason, and without warning, she would jump up and do a cartwheel. Then sit back down to complete more homework. I was puzzeled by this action until I learned that the blood flow to the brain increases brain activity. I was learning from her, but I'am still uncapable of doing my own cartwheel.
Today I hope that Megan still has patience dealing with her parents as we are sure to make mistakes in her teenage years.