The Salty Dog 2015

This says it all !

        It won't be long before it's 2015 and I plan to be in Brooklyn the last day of this year and the first day of the New Year, celebrating my last supper of this year having the best burger at my favorite place. Coming back to Brooklyn means home and any time I can visit the Salty Dog only makes it more meaningful. It isn't just a bar or just a restaurant but it's the people,
        From the moment I take a first step over and into The Salty Dog, I always first notice the wooden floors and then me eyes sweep the room taking it all in, the firetruck, blazing a deep red, the brick walls and the bar. The bar at times looks lonely, waiting. It sits and waits for elbows, smiles, pats on the backs of friends, hugs, kisses on cheeks and orders of big beer mugs.  Here it comes, a frosty one and a big man grabbing the cold handle after a long day and taking that first swallow and just as he does a buddy walks in, pulling his thick blue jacket off, nodding his head and another beer is set up. The voices. Two men who share a same kind of job, now relaxed at home with who they know. Home as in the neighborhood place to be.
        As I continue to walk to the back, I notice a few servers on each side waiting to see where I want to sit, not where they want me to sit. That's a nice feeling. No one is pushing me to sit in a section. Ah, I am comfortable. Adjusting my eyes to the dimly lit area I see some familiar faces, smiling and welcoming. They know me, as a visitor who comes up every few months or sometimes longer. It  doesn't matter. I'm just as good as any regular. They know what I order but ask anyway to make sure I didn't want anything different.
       Then they look to the other side. My guest, usually a kid, but once in a while a friend I grew up with and no matter who or what, we are treated as friends, as long time neighborhood friends.
      I'm a listener and a watcher and I see how people are treated at The Salty Dog, how they are spoken to, smiled at. Warm hearts. It's almost like saying, Who loves ya baby?  At times I forget why I'm there as I get lost in looking around. The photos on the walls, a fireman, history, buildings and a fireplace with a dalmation.
That dog who never moves but reserves in silence a place, a place for newcomers, almost makes me want to walk over and pet him, but all of this means, There's No Place Like Home.
Thank you Salty Dog

Christmas Music & Chrstmas Shopping :)

       This morning while comparing prices with Fat Brain Toys and Target Toys I couldn't find one special toy I was looking for, an erector set which is twice the rice at Fat Brain. So I decided to look up the Target corporate office and ask how can I get one from them at their price. Maybe Fat Brain bought them all.
    There wasn't any e mail contact that I could find, but happened to come on reviews and then I see one about how sad someone is because of the Christmas music, well lack of it. This shopper is Christmas shopping and asked a clerk, what happened to the Christmas music. The clerk answered, "I know, we had a complaint" end of story.
     My personal feeling is, and we know Christmas is about The Birth of Jesus and it has turned commercial (old song).
    So if anyone feels they are a Christian and is shopping for gifts and the store you re in has all the displays of Christmas shopping , but without the music, ask someone why. If the answer is, people complained, well we all know who in our hearts and why. Hopefully you have a cart full of items and you can feel good enough to leave the cart and walk out, and I promise, when I go out shopping this week if I walk into target or any store to Christmas shop and they have displays of such, but no music, I will purposefully fill  a cart, then go to a manager, ask why-he or she will tell me they had a complaint ad I will say, okay, now here's my complaint and walk out.
      Okay Now I know, you're tired, you don't want to shop again for the same items at the same prices-DON"T.
          Look at who you are buying for. Now it's time to go home, make a cup of tea or coffee or....Get on line and look up local craftsman for kids. For adults, write a nice and simple letter of why you are doing this, this year and give gift cards for groceries, gas, cash. I really do think, hope and believe they will understand.

Merry, Merry Christmas !!!

Snow, Trees, Love, Bay Ridge, Zion, Christmas

    Somehow today my thoughts remained in and about Brooklyn. Christmas in my house was usually great when we were kids. With eight kids it was hard to imagine how one living room would overflow with gifts, and gifts that made all of us happy. What made me happiest was being able to go to church at Zion Lutheran, seeing friends and singing around a giant Norway Spruce.
     The Norwegian ladies from Zion came to our house every year on fifty-night street to get shoe and clothing sizes of the kids, wants and needs. I watched as they made lists, asked our favorite colors and sipped coffee with my mother as a huge pot of split pea soup sat on the stove. When the time came to go to that party, we sang, ate, laughed, cried a little at all of the brown grocery bags filled and gift certificates for shoes were slipped down the inside of every bag. Our parents never came, but my father would sometimes drive over and we'd load up the car, and then we'd run home through the snow, the wonderful, cold and white snow filling our socks. It was the best of all Christmases.
    As we got older time became harder for other families and we got less than when we were little. we were no longer considered poor. Yet being poor seemed somehow better, when you're little that is. I'm sure the grown-ups didn't think so.
   Well we all know the expression, when one door closes another one opens and it did. It really did for me. That door came in the form of a man, Mr. Vitalo. He would become to me everything a man should be. I never saw that until I knew him, really knew him and I knew him because I watched him. I watched him as much as I could, and I listened to him.
    While I loved this man, I loved him more it seemed in winter. He would stand outside in just his suit, jacket collar up if it was snowing, and rubbing his hands together for warmth while ushering kids into school before the bell rang. He stood about five feet seven inches tall, yet in my eye he was well over a six footer.
I watched and listened to him for years, as I was about to be left back because I didn't pass math or make my own graduation dress and I was happy to be left back. Then I would have him closer in my heart another year. But it wasn't to be. He passed me on the charcoal steps one day, said, "Hey Mac, ready for high school?" I answered, "oh Mr. Vitalo I'm not going, I never passed math or made my own dress". His answer for that was, "look Mac, you're a good kid, you just need a push, study more, stop babysitting (my brother-sure, like that would happen) and you'll do fine. This one time, I'm breaking my own rule".
     I stood there, begged and almost cried to be left back. But he just patted my back and said, "you'll be fine Mac". He was so good, so very, very good, but he just didn't know what sending me on meant. I believe he was truly filled with gold. But he didn't know my family except a few verbal run-ins with my father to which he stood firm...well years moved on and oh yes, I did get left back in high school, taken out at fifteen, almost fifteen, to stay home and babysit.
     Life passed. I married, moved on from the East Coast to West and back again, two children, graduated Penn State and still thought of Mr. Vitalo. I saw him on every corner in my mind. I felt his hand on my shoulder over the years and knew when I graduated I had to look him up. Besides having my two children, seeing Mr. Vitalo again was the third best day in my life. I'm going to end this here and remember that Brooklyn brought me God, Children, Mr. Vitalo, cobblestone streets and stick ball, Zion Lutheran Church, giant trees in sunset park and the biggest snows a kid could love. What more could I ask for ?

See the very Early stories about Mr. Vitalo

Let me Tell you about SPECIAL Schools

       I worked in Mental health for quite a number of years and learned all too soon, if the new client wasn't on disability, they would be soon. See, they just didn't have the right doctor and were encouraged to talk to other clients because staff was not allowed to suggest a doctor.
     So sure, friendships began, new doctors now helped people get Social Security Disability because now they had a stream of patients they could count on visiting at least once a month. Oh yes, new diagnosis were made. After all you couldn't get on disability if you didn't have the right doctor and the "correct" diagnosis.
    Some have prison backgrounds and have a hard time getting employment. So what's the next move? No, don't keep trying. Get a diagnosis, Get on disability. Keep the system employed.

    Now we have similar issues with schools who are mainly warehousing kids with mental heath issues. How many of these kids get out of these schools better off? No one wants to admit they can't help that child, but instead keep them in one place, bill the system for big bucks, keep the kids happy with earphones, tablets and computers. TEACHING ? HA!
    The cycle is repeated when the child is passed onto another school, another program. So where is the success? Because these children don't do well in traditional schools, they are booted away from the average students or tax paying parents who have well behaved kids will complain, so to keep the peace, kick the other kids to the curb. Here in York, Pa. in my opinion we have such a system. WHY doesn't anyone see and start a vocational program for every student and give more hours to those who have mental health problems? Oh I know, funding! But they have enough to pay those same big bucks for special schools. Then, they can aslo keep those kids in their own district.

     Yes, I am well aware who should and shouldn't have the use of certain tools. But they also have to prove themselves and will learn reading and math along the way. After all, what are they going to leave school with now? Maybe a fourth grade education? Then they are eligible to clean toilets. Hell, someone has to do it. What happens when they do graduate without skills. No, don't be silly, they'll be taken care of. York County Prison is waiting, three meals a day, doctor and dental care, television, exercise, more than they got in school, a/c heat, lawyers and....they don't even have to work for it.

Prison Healthcare Better Than....

            How and why is it if you're a criminal you receive better health care that law abiding citizens? Just saw an episode of a male who was over 400 pounds, received a special diet, insulin twice a day and had a guard who became his personal trainer. Next the dentist. In our country you can earn just enough to not have dental insurance, but commit a crime and let prison fix your teeth.

     Prisons also have the highest rate of suicides and attempted suicides. They are monitored more often now. Why? Because families will sue. This is the population of people who are brave enough to beat up, kill, rape, torture, molest, rob and commit any type of a crime decent hard working people wouldn't dare do. Decent people who work and strive every day to get by are the brave people, everyone else a coward. Oh, want to know why this latest piece of trash tried suicide? He stated he was lonely, and everyone spoke English, not Spanish, and others had visitors, but no one came to see him. Doesn't that make your heart bleed? Too bad he didn't think of that, prior to prison. Oh but isn't it amazing, this creep can write in English.

       Our Systems are so screwed up and backwards. A health plan didn't have to be created for them. Congress didn't have to pass a law for them. Child molesters are protected ? Why ? Who protected the children? Prisoners who abuse, and torture children are kept apart from the regular population. I just don't get it, yet I know, they too are someones child, adult though they may be. Now they are protected.