The Luna Park Gazette

What was I doing on January 7th? It was a Wednesday, I know that much from looking at the calendar, but nothing else about the day sticks out in my mind. Illustration by Graham Winn-Lee I went to work, came home, ate dinner, watched TV, did the usual routine, apparently, with nothing out of the ordinary. But I recently realized what I didn’t do on January 7th. I didn’t remember it was the anniversary of my father’s death. My father died on that day in 2008, and, as best as I can remember, I didn’t pray for his soul, go to church, or even put a notice on my Facebook status. The day just slipped by me without any acknowledgement of my father’s passing. I’m not sure what to say about that, except that I’m very sorry. I backed into this realization while reading the news stories about the American Sniper controversy that started when filmmaker Michael Moore tweeted that his uncle had been killed by a sniper in World War II and how his father thought snipers were cowards. ...

Dr. Joel raised his right hand to me in a gesture of farewell. “Go and enjoy life, young man,” he said. “Stay out of doctors’ offices.” Now there’s two great bits of advice—enjoy life and steer clear of doctors. And I really liked that “young man” bit, but I felt compelled to gently inform Dr. Joel that I’m turning 58 this year and that perhaps “young” wasn’t the most accurate adjective he could use. “You’re younger than I am,” he remarked. So be it. Dr. Joel is my gastroenterologist but I’d think he’d make a terrific rabbi. He’s just so caring and knowledgeable. I had gone to him for a second—third?—opinion about surgery for the internal misery that drove me to the hospital in November. His answer? A decisive “No!” He believes that the incident was a flare-up in my colon that has since righted itself, and thus there is no need to cut me open. Dr. Joel showed my CAT scans to one of the top surgeons at Maimonides Medical Center and he also nixed the knife. He actually...

So have I really been at this for a decade? It’s hard to believe, but 10 years ago today I sat down and cranked out the first post of this blog. I had no idea what I was doing and it showed. I rambled, ranted, and shared far too much information. I’m still doing all of that today, come to think of it, but at least I’m trying to keep the posts a little shorter. There have a lot changes in that time, including the death of my father and the sale of our family house. There are other changes in my life that haven’t happened as quickly as I would’ve liked, but I don’t see any reason to give up. While I’ve threatened to post more often, it’s been hard to break the weekly routine that I settled into some years back. I have all these projects bouncing around my imagination that make more frequent blogging pretty close to impossible. For a while I thought about giving the blog up when I reached the 10-year mark. That’s plenty of time, I reasoned, put it aside and devout more time ...

I grabbed the pull-up bar in my grammar school gymnasium and started lifting myself up off the ground. I was in the sixth grade and not in the least bit interested in athletics—a sharp contrast to the aging gym rat I am today. Behind me, Mr. Keating, the gym teacher, and my classmates, watched as put my chin over the bar once, twice… And then I let go. I wasn’t tired or in pain. There was nothing wrong with me physically, but emotionally I was done. I had decided that I wasn’t strong, I wasn’t a jock, like some other kids in my class, so clearly I couldn’t—or perhaps shouldn’t --do anymore pull-ups. In other words, I quit. When I hit the ground, I turned to see the shocked expressions of Mr. Keating and all the kids in my class. “Why did you let go?” Mr. Keating demanded. “You could’ve done more!” He was right. I could’ve done at least two or maybe even three more pull-ups. But subconsciously I elected to get by rather than excel. I had no answer for Mr. Keating and ...

I stretched out on my couch Thursday morning, soaking in the beautiful winter sunlight, and journeyed into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. Yes, this was the Syfy Channel’s annual New Year’s Twilight Zone blitz and I was happily traveling to that fifth dimension beyond which is known to man. I’ve seen most of the episodes scores of times, but that doesn’t prevent me from unlocking that door with the key of imagination. Twilight Zone is my comfort zone. I caught several of the classics, including “The Howling Man,” “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet,” and “A Game of Pool,” arguably my favorite show of the series. The episodes often feature such notable performers as Robert Redford, William Shatner, and Jonathan Winters early in their careers. And on this particular morning I was enjoying another gem, “ A Stop at Willoughby .” It's the story of Gart Williams, a harried New York advertising executive who can’t handle the high-pressure corporate life. Gart ...

All right, this is about as simple as I can make it. It’s a New Year and rather than rattle off a list of resolutions that will probably go belly-up before Presidents Day, I’m whittling my 2015 aspirations down to one single word. Better. Yep, that’s it. Better. Pretty hard to screw that up, right? I want to eat better, work better, think better, and live better. I want to be a better friend, a better companion, a better worker, a better brother, uncle, nephew, and cousin. Hell, I just want to be a better human being. I’m not making any grand declarations of spectacular change; I’m not vowing to embark upon some brutal exercise regimen or undergo a massive spiritual conversion. I’m not ruling any of that stuff out, mind you; I’m just not making any promises. Better keeps it simple. My mother used to recite ditty to us about self-improvement that went, “ good, better, best, never let it rest, until the good is better and the better best. ” That should keep me busy for qui...