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Following a misty cold rain and abnormal northeast winds for October, Glenn felt obliged to satisfy Bill's and his son, James', urge for a few hours of fishing. Glenn's new 24 foot fishing gem equipped with a 150 horsepower engine seemed safe enough, even though the waters were telling us a different story. We were so certain of our safety that none of us even considered asking where the lifejackets or oars were stored, nor did we care. Once in the river, the only thing on our minds was how we were going to hook the 12" eels we brought for bait. At first, all seemed calm; but once we turned the corner and approached the inlet, we knew we were in for a ride. Our strategy was to start up river, drift down to a passing bridge, and start the process over and over until we caught stripers. The problem was that the tide was taking us down river so fast we hardly had time to bait our lines. Looking at the depth reader of 85 feet didn't help my nerves either, nor did the thought of what would happen if the engine didn't start up on our upturn to begin the start process? The bridge concrete pillars which looked more like a drainage waterfall was only 25 feet away on our end point. If the engine failed, we would have had only 20 seconds to react to the unthinkable -- hitting the pillars. Luckily, the engine started; and we finally gave up on the fishing and headed home. The next morning, still feeling the urge to fish, Bill, Glenn, and James set sail again. This time, I stayed behind, wanting no more of that challenge of fighting tidal waves and, not to mention the cold morning dew. The men decided to take the bay route this time and avoid the rough canal that we took the night before. No more than an hour after setting sail, the phone call came that they where stranded 5 miles out in the bay as the engine stalled. Glenn's wife, Barbara, and I raced down to the bay and watched them fight the windy seas with no means of approaching shore. We notified the local tow and sent them to intercept them. Finally 3 hours later, they were rescued and towed. But once again, I asked myself, what would have happened had the engine failed the night before? Being 25 feet from those bridge pillars tells me one thing. Next time you take a boat ride, no matter how safe you feel, find out where the life jackets are located and the oars. Why the oars? We could have used them to push off the pillars had the opportunity presented itself. We sure were lucky we didn't have to.

Talk about greed -- anybody visit Atlantic City lately? We went the other day to the Marina. Finally finding a $10.00 blackjack table (all the others were $15.00), we were sitting for as little as 10 minutes when the pit boss came over to inform the players that the table was rising to $15.00 at the next shuffle. Sitting at 3rd base, she was right up close to me; so I had the opportunity to ask her why they where raising the stacks when, in fact, it was the only $10.00 table left and the table was winning. She looked right at me and said, "it's Christmas week; we need to make as much as we can; it's been a slow year and we need to make up for lost time. I told her that most likely we would all get up and walk away, maybe go the walk to Harrah's which we did. A short time later, we walk past the table that was now completely empty, so what was the gain? We took the walk to Harrah's, found a $10.00 table, and actually started to win. In my opinion, the Marina's greed cost them some money but, more importantly; some customers. The next time we go to AC, its Harrah's, not the Marina.

The phone rang, I picked it up from the downstairs extension, the person on the other end said his name was Roger and was interested in the car I had advertised recently in the local paper. He informed me that being from New York without a car would be difficult from for him to view the car until 9:00pm tonight. I told him I had other buyer's and. in fact. A lady was coming at 6 p.m. and he should call back to ensure the car was not sold before taking a cab over from the city. It may be sold I told him. Forget it was his reply. I'm buying the car and I'm willing to pay you $300.00 over your asking price. What's the VIN number he shouted, I need to contact my insurance carrier. I'll forward you the cash via money express; just one question -- how big is the trunk? Wait a minute was my response; you haven't seen the car and you're willing to pay me cash; you're willing to pay me $300.00 over the asking price -- WHY? He responded by telling me he's only been in the country 3 weeks, needed a car, the mileage was low, and the trunk was the right size. Trunk the right size I asked? Why are you so concerned about the trunk I asked? His response was, like I told you before, I'm from New York and I'm connected. Connected to what I question? Never mind was his Reponses. What's the VIN #? Forget it, I responded. I'm not selling you the car site unseen; again I told him I had a lady coming to view the car and, in fact, had several calls about the car. He would have to come over and if the car wasn't sold, make me an offer. We hang up.

Around 3 p.m. George called being very interested in the car, wanted to come over right away and he, too, asked similar questions that Roger asked. What's the trunk size, how many miles, and the color. George, like Roger, was only in the country for 3 weeks and was very interested in the car and he, too, was going to pay cash. I told him to come on over right away since I had a lady coming at 6 p.m. and Roger, the connected from the city, at 9 p.m.

I wasn't off the phone 2 minutes and again the phone rang; it's Roger, and I'll be over at 6:30 by cab was his instructions and do not sell the car was his order. Hold it was his demand; I'm coming with cash. Again I told him I'm not holding it and the first person who gives me my asking price I'm selling it to. No No, he shouts, I'm connected like I told you and I want that car. Sorry, was my response, and again we hang up.

We left the house and returned a few hours later to a message on the answering machine with 9 -- messages 4 from Roger, one from George, the rest from other potential buyers all willing and eager to buy the car we only advertised 3 days earlier. I returned George's call and told him to hurry over since I had much interest and I was going to take the first cash buyer. Again I hang up, and again Roger called. This time he made a firm appointment; he was going to be at the house by 7 p.m. that evening.

I began to wonder WHY that car and for the first time realized what connected meant. He was Mafia connected and maybe he was going to use the car for a crime, maybe hide a body in the truck, who knows why else he would keep asking me the size of the trunk. I panic and for a moment don't know what to do.

It's 4 p.m. now and the phone rings, its George from his cell phone. Where's this street he asked? How do I get there, I need directions from Route 80 west, I'm on my way and I want that car. I gave him directions he answers I'll be there in 10 minutes.

George shows, likes the car, and gives me a deposit. I notice he's good looking, maybe in his 30's, riding a Lincoln Town Car, and very educated. He, too, was only in the country for 3 weeks, needed a car, and was very interested in the trunk size. He informed me he was going to his bank to get the rest of the funds and will be back in an hour.

The phone rang. It's Roger. He says he's on his way from the city and will be at the house in an hour . Again he told me not to sell the car, he's buying it site unseen for $300.00 over the asking price. Again he informed me he was connected, from the city, and nothing was going to stop him from buying that car. Suddenly George shows up, hands me the full amount in cash, and makes arrangements to pick the car up the next morning, and left.

We decide to go out to grab a bit of dinner, forget about the rest of the people coming over including Roger, and left. Upon returning, we discover Roger and a friend had arrived on schedule. Our neighbor opened the garage door, showed them the car, and both looked at each other and said perfect. The only problem was we weren't home.

They stayed for an hour and told our neighbors they'd be back. When we returned, our neighbors informed us of the visit, and we waited for the call. It came. I inform Roger I sold the car to another Italian from Bergenfield who also was only in the country for 3 weeks, liked the color, and also liked the trunk space. He asked if his name was George. I said Yes. He answered, well I guess it's going to the right place, and hung up.

There are 25 million Afghanistan's of which ¾ are men. The other ¼ are either children or women. At least that was the count before America declared war on their land. Each day, thousands of the men die in their own 20-year civil war and another thousand dies from the continuous bombings by the USA. Today, the Northern Alliance troops are winning, mainly due to the continuous bombing by the US. Thousands and thousands are dying every day. Today, the Taliban are the bad guys. But don't think for one minute that the Northern Alliance is any better; in fact, in some ways they're worse. You need only to see some of the TV clips to see just how bad these guys are. So this is what I propose. We turn the table and start marching on the north joining the Taliban, in an all out assault on the North. We, the US, keep up the bombing but this time targeting northern positions. We basically let the north and south fight it out and in the process eliminate both sides. Before long, the ¾ million Afghan men will wither to a few. At this time, we release the thousands upon thousands of American men we have positioned on the ships in the Persian Gulf. We let them roam the Afghan countryside implanting enough women as they can. With no Afghanistan men to stop them, the American sailors will soon begin a new race, one controlled and started by no other then the USA. Victory at last! And a new country in the process called Afghanistate

Why are today's children not like us? Why do we spoil our children and provide them with luxury beyond our means? That question has been asked, and I have been trying to analyze this for a long time. Although I don't have any children of my own, I see it every day with friends, family, and co-workers. The answer as I see it is that we see ourselves growing up, living their lives, and wishing and hoping that whatever we never had and always wanted will be accomplished by their childhood. We will provide them with whatever it is because, in reality, it's not our lives but theirs we are living. But there are dangers as we the children of the 60's observe the prodigy of the 90's. We see a pampered, self-centered generation that does not believe in anything except all the trappings of their virtual realities. These children of yours will never see the reality of a day's pay, the sweat of a day's work because we are not permitting them the means required to accomplish this. Think, however, about how our parents must have viewed us. The Beatles, long hair, loosening sexual attitudes, the questioning of virtually every religious, cultural, and political institution that existed at the time. Yet, as we matured, we became the generation that thought nothing of 50-60 hour work weeks. Our 180-degree change was something no one in the 60's would have thought possible. We must not lose faith in our young folks; we must stop the giving and provide them with the means to survive; provide them guidance and, in human nature, they'll achieve whatever life and culture forces them to become.

When we were kids, the notorious big time horror story was the fathomed "Green Hand." A story of a little boy who, while playing the piano, wrenched his tiny finger between the keys which in turn caused a cut, got infected, spread to his hand, and eventually had to be amputated. Using his boyish imagination willed the tiny hand back to life, which became a floating creature strangling all bad boys across the land. Many nights, we sat around a cycle choosing who would be the green hand. After a long debate, the remaining unchosen would hide and wait for the chosen green hand to find them. Once found, we were taken to a garage and waited until all were caught. We, now the adults, are playing the same game but in different locations and differently with different creatures. The hand, while not green, is there lurking in ever corner and under every tree. The horror is all around us, surfacing in the most unthinkable places, like what happened among the Catholic priests. How do the Roman Catholic priests and their parishioners reconcile this moral quandary especially during the "holiest week" within the catholic faith? The green hand is being observed by All-American Catholics today regarding the issue of homosexuality and child molestation by priests. When I was a 7th grader, my teacher (a Catholic brother) was summoned away from the parish to an unknown location. Now I wonder was this a mischievous deed that he was involved in? Was he the green hand we should have feared back then? The Catholic Church is the oldest surviving institution in our western culture. There are 700 million people word wide, as well as millions within the US that profess to being of that faith. My opinion as to how the Catholic Church should deal with this moral issue is that it must present the facts and punish those of guilt. Instead of the garage, they should be locked up for good. The Catholic Church should permit their priests, brothers, and nuns to marry. The animal urge we possess was not meant to be taken away. Also just think about what, as a culture, we have observed over the past year. Yes; the green hand is everywhere. We watched a former president lie regarding a matter of sexual impropriety. We observed politicians of both political parties demand campaign finance reform while speaking at $1,000.00 a plate political dinners. We observed, with unspeakable horror, two planes take out the World Trade Center while its perpetrators claimed to be martyrs for a faith that professes peace. We watched an energy industrial giant implode on itself because of immoral financial behavior that left thousands of its employees without pensions while the company's main officers kept their millions. We have read in horror the disappearance of a politician's administration assistant without a trace. I know that I am stating the obvious when I remind everyone that regardless of how high the moral plateau the Catholic Church views itself, the fact is it is an institution, one that make its own rules and its own views on how one should and should not run there lives. The church must, regardless of how moral it believes it is, address the seriousness of the heinous acts committed by its priests, view its culture, and address its issues; and these concerns must be dealt with immediately. Yes indeed, the green hand is still out there and you, as parents, must and will watch each and ever step your children take. You have to.

While riding down the expressway the other day, I couldn't help noticing all the things wrong with this planet and thought if I could build my own planet what would its make up be? I'll call the new planet Bomber Planet. The first and most obvious is NO cell phones allowed. These little gadgets amaze me and the types of people who consistently use them puzzle me. I can't see the reason why we need to live with these and why we can't simply discard them. Example in point, the other day while waiting for a plane I strolled over to the picture window to get a glance of the incoming traffic. This guy walked over, took his cell phone, out and proceeded to call what sounded like his secretary at the office. The conversation went like this. Hello Barbara, it's Mike. Is Tom in yet? Barbara must have said not yet, because Mike then told her that when he arrives have him open my office and on my visitor chair to the right of my desk are a set of papers. Have him photocopy them and fax them to me in Phoenix. Now just think for a moment; did he really need to call his office at 6 a.m. to deliver that message to his secretary? Come on, didn't he know all he had to do is take the papers with him Friday before he left the office? The message here is he wanted to feel important, go to the airport, take out his image security tool, call the office, and be on his way. Well on Bomber Planet, his types aren't allowed, and therefore No cell phones. Also we can do away with all those other new toys like palms, blackberries, or any other useless corporate toys which provide us false security. Give it up; smell the coffee! There will be no priests allowed on Bomber Planet for the obvious reasons mentioned in my last feature story. However, there will be religion; because without it, there would be all kinds of crime and violence Religion will be made up of five rules: 1) no killing; 2) no rape or other sexual crimes; 3) no adultery; 4) no stealing; and 5) no jealously or anger. There will be no illegal drugs allowed on Bomber Planet and definitely no pot because with it there is no rationalization, which is needed to keep a sane planet. Also not allowed on Bomber Planet are any onions, liver, or junk food. I just don't see any good in any of these foods. There will be no bosses on Bomber Planet. All workers will be on the same level, working together to solve problems and solutions. There will be no taxes. All in all, without the use of the gadgets I mentioned above, keeping to my 5 rules, I think Bomber Planet will be one hell of a place to live.

Home from our cruise and this year, like every year, we met some interesting characters. Jimmy, a tall slender man with reddish hair, pale complexion, glasses, and a western accent, was my main character this year. He traveled with his wife and 2 kids, who seemed well behaved. Jimmy had a small problem. He can't drink. After attending a martini tasting party in which each participant was handed 5 different types of martinis, Jimmy, sipping his first -- a regular dry Bombay gin -- proceeded to stand up and leave the room. His wife, Ann, who looked puzzled, followed him out to the adjoining hallway and never returned. The next day we all attended a continuous cruise party for guests who cruised before, and again we encountered Jimmy. This time I noticed Jimmy was sipping something pink, with an orange twist. Later that evening, Jimmy was in a bubbly mood, talking to all the restaurant waiters and continuing to go somewhere every 10 minutes. Jimmy, it seems, just should have left the drinking to the more experienced types. Mr. New York was an Italian a big and strong older man who was very arrogant. He was the guy sitting at the end of the blackjack table betting $200 a card and acted like he was the only one who knew how to play the game. The first night while watching the play, he turned to me and said, "That guy doesn't know what he did wrong; not only didn't he double his bet with a soft 16 to the dealer's 6, he stood pat". "Well", I said, "the dealer broke anyway, so no harm." Just the type you see all the time. I made sure I stayed away from his table when I played. Lou and Lisa -- now they were a pair right out of Brooklyn, experienced cruisers, knew everything there was about everything. You know the picture -- nice couple, but please, enough already!

Every summer morning at around 8 o'clock the kids in my neighborhood would bang on my door. The reason to get me for our morning baseball game. There were 8 of us four on each side. We played on the street using the telephone pole as first base, canvass bags stuffed as second and third. Glenn Piper pitched for us, I played 3rd base, our outfielder was Eddie Weiss and Danny Fay played second or caught if there was a runner in scoring position. The Other Team was Eddie's brother Ray who later played in the Mets organization, Glenn's cousin Roger, Billy Gallagher and RickKirby were the other guys. We would start at 8 and play until eleven. If we lost a ball we would just run down to George's candy store and buy another one for 59 cents. After the game ,we would go over to my house, and watch the Yankees or the Mets.. After Dinner we would play until it got dark. That was our summer we fought, we talked about girls, the Beatles we were friends. The thing that bound us together were those summer baseball games. Well a couple of the guys moved away and it is at least two decades since I last saw some of them. But the memory of those games will last forever. Tomorrow if major league baseball goes out on strike. I can easily forget the Yankees Mets but the memories of those summer baseball games will last forever. And, those are the memories of baseball that will matter..

Taking the first flight out Saturday morning is a must. With a little help from the weatherman, you're about to embark on one of the greatest weekends you'll ever have. You'll want to allocate at least 6 hours at the ballpark once you arrive in Green Bay. Don't worry about checking in, your room will be waiting for you. The hospitality is the first thing you will notice. Everyone from the desk clerk to security guard will welcome you with a hug. Stroll around the stadium entrances, focus on the main entrance and atrium entrance (the statues). Once inside, go directly to the tour ticket counter. Tours run every hour or more frequently depending on the crowd. Once on the field, take your turn praticing the Lambeau leap, sit down on the aluminum benches, and you'll learn very soon you're going to need to bring newspapers for your feet and a cushion for your behind. Dress warm; it's windy, it will be harsh. Visit the pro shops, the lines are not as long on Saturday than as on game day. You can buy everything from carpet for your den to green and yellow hairspray. On game day, many close by restaurants/pubs offer tailgate parties where you can buy a brat or grub one for free. You'll love the decorated vehicles and the real crazies dressed up with their painted faces and tummies. If you're not a football fan, you're in the wrong place. Saturday was like a Superbowl warm up, and game day there is nothing like it.