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I’m so moved by the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial. But first: For the first time in nearly two years, I’ve let my deadline of writing blog entries every week slip into a second week. There was a song, “You Can’t Hurry Love” by the Supremes.   YouTube:

The Supremes “You Can’t Hurry Love”

I love writing my blog; a magic carpet ride of introspection, heightened awareness and personal growth. I’ve evolved into a better writer, a better citizen of this old town or any old town. Good old Ebeneezer Scrooge: in another five weeks I’ll find my VHS copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’ starring Alastair Sim(the only film Scrooge there ever was) and slip into the joyous world of holidays.

 

 

 

All year long, I think about Scrooge and how he fought change and spiritual enhancement. Then on Christmas morning we witness his rebirth and commitment to taking care of Tiny Tim by symbolically standing on his head in a showing of complete joyous spiritual arrival. How often I’ve dreamt about conditional change forcing me to stand on my head. I dreamed of NBC morning programming. I’ll need a couple of stage hands to hold me up on a worn easy chair or sofa. I’ve got it all figured out; the scene is part of my arrival at journey’s end. Arrival is not a bad thing; just a time to exhale and give thanks. And I love Thanksgiving, a most perfect holiday of family, friends, food for thought, and a sleigh ride to Grandmother’s house. But there are no Grandmothers left, very little family and earthquakes happening all over the world with increasing frequency and intensity.

If you haven’t guessed, I’m firing away on all cylinders, dusting off my parched streams of consciousness that I haven’t used in two weeks. I can still give thanks on Thanksgiving; every day I find a way to thank the universe for my blessings; I just don’t and never will have much of a family. All those scattered cousins everywhere and not a drop to drink with, except precious poignant Cousin Stuart. Where did all the flowers go; same place of obscurity where my cousins sit at the diner of lost dreams on Wednesday 3AM. Is there a good geneticist in the house? Am I the product of bad cousin genes?  I’m even down to one sister left; more gene splicing?

 

 

I see Dorothy clicking her red ruby heels; there is no place like home and extended family. I’ll never know. Is it purist simple gifts of life? I must be on to or just on something (broccoli?). I’ve been listening to the song and instrumental ‘Simple Gifts’ for years. Then during President Obama’s Inauguration ceremony, ‘Simple Gifts’ was one of two songs played at the Lincoln Memorial.

 

 

 

 

‘Somebody Up There Likes Me.’ A wonderful movie starring Paul Newman. Last week it hit me again. How can Paul Newman be gone? And Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau and Sammy Davis.

I asked my mother the other day; how can it be that I only have one sister left. Things we take for granted; the warmth and caring relationships of the blood is thicker than water. What if water becomes blood? There’s Yul Brynner holding up the staff but the river Nile still turns red. Well, I accept the law of diminishing family. I see a thousand Conestoga wagons heading into Kansas during a land rush. My father decides to pitch camp at the first overflowing stream and within two weeks our cabin is built, a fence surrounds the property. An asteroid came within 200,000 miles of earth the other day; awful close astronomically; scares the hell out of me.  I wonder why we didn’t experiment and send a rocket to see how effective we can be in destroying menacing asteroids; ‘just in case’ kind of deal. Or with our luck, we divert it right down here to central Jersey. I need Thanksgiving; a cold, cloudy day with fresh cranberry sauce. I asked a friend on the tennis court recently if he remembered the cranberry scare of 1959. He said no. “What about Thalidomide?” That he knew; the sedative drug that causes malformation of fetuses and was withdrawn from the market in 1961.

 

 

Enough with dodge ball. I apologize for being tardy. But the good news for all my blog readers is that my words are reaching a larger audience than I ever dreamt. Back in July, I started writing a monthly column for OUR TOWN newspaper. The following month it went to two columns. And in October it hit three columns a month. It is work and commitment but I love words and writing. Then three weeks ago in the blowing winds of synchronicity, I became ‘involved’ with a Jersey TV Production company, as a reporter, writer, and program/talent developer. And I do all this as you know because I’m not quite at mid-life yet as long as I subscribe to the notion of living to 150 years which I always blog about. I hear my mother calling to me from upstairs to budget my time. I love this blog and thanks for your support and dropping by.  Enough said. Maybe take four minutes and watch my first gig as a reporter during Zombie Walk on the Asbury Park boardwalk two weeks ago. The YouTube link:

 

Calvin reporter at Zombie Walk Asbury Park

 

A few years ago, on a cold, bleak, windy February Friday afternoon (enough adjectives?); I was heading homeward southbound on the Garden State Parkway. It was 2 PM, two hours from descending darkness. Something grabbed my soul and told me to go visit the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Holmdel. Something is one of my favorite amorphous spiritual conceptual words; much too involved and complicated for a dissertation now. But I always listen to something because it is wise, warming, steering and magical. Something made me write my first novel a few years ago.

 

 

 

 

 

Something made me climb mountains barefoot in Sedona or walk on a decaying old wooden dock in Key Largo or gets me up at 3 AM to stare blankly at computer screen savers. I’ve never been to the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial not being a veteran of that war during my twenties. Of course with the extreme weather conditions, I was the only person visiting. There are 360 panels, each representing a day of the year including leap year. Each panel contains the names of those men and women who died on that day. I decided to stare at each name, shivering from the brutal 10 degree wind chill cold and then consume random names and commit to my eternal memory. Arthur John Abramoff and Albert Potter became part of my senses. Forty minutes passed until I made the circuitous journey around the memorial, promising to keep committing names to my senses. I might fill up several pages to rip words from the intestinal lining of emotions when seeing names of all those special wonderful young people taken away with so much of life’s promise.

 

 

 

 

Six months ago, I knew on this special Veterans Day of 11-11-11, 11:11 AM that I’d be there. But I never dreamt I’d be going as a TV reporter and journalist. Life is something. Once again, it was so cold and windy. One lone tree in the middle of the memorial grounds kept losing leaves that were once green, now brown.  One fallen leaf skirted my cheek. I kept looking around at the faces of these amazing veterans. A strange welling in my chest; should I have been with them back then? Five hundred proud Vietnam Veterans gathered. I got to interview on camera Clark Martin, Chairman of the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial Foundation and Joseph Formola, (“Hero’s don’t wear capes; they wear dog tags.”), Chaplain New Jersey State Council Vietnam Veterans of America and Chester, a proud eloquent Vietnam veteran.

 

 

Everyone said the same thing; how hard it was coming back from Vietnam because of the way they were treated; there was no respect for their sacrifices and patriotism. Chester said it best, “People come up to us now, thank us for serving. That really didn’t happen years ago. Didn’t happen. But it is happening now and that’s beautiful.” I thanked him three times and got all choked up. My video cameraman knew to stop shooting. I need to keep going there. I’ve added John Richard McDonough from South Orange to my senses. It’s hard excavating intestinal linings and emotions. Here’s the link to the video coverage of Veterans Day in New Jersey. (2 minutes):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYwkaa_xreg&feature=youtu.be

Yes, I dig living to 150 years. The other day I encountered a menu from a fast food place soon opening here in Jersey. I whispered to myself, “Fried Snickers?” Picture attached and I think I’ll take the terse road which may be the high road not the back road to Perdition. One other note on living to 150 years: A glass of pomegranate juice a day could keep the wrinkles away, according to a new study that reveals it slows down the aging process of DNA.

 

 

Pomegranate has previously been linked to the prevention of heart disease and stress relief but now researchers from the Probelte Bio Lab in Spain have found that the fruit juice also slows down the natural oxidation (‘wear and tear’) of DNA. During the study, scientists used a potent new type of pomegranate extract including the skin, pith and seeds of the fruit. The 60 participants were asked to take the extract for 30 days in the form of a pill. The results found a significant decrease in a marker associated with cell damage that disrupts brain, muscle, liver and kidney functions, as well as causing aging.

Finally Penn State: There are few words I can excavate now. Enough will be said for years to come. I became friendly with a former pretty good Penn State quarterback from the mid 70’s when I actually used to root for them before I began my love affair to remember with Rutgers. He always talked spirited about Joe Paterno and actually became an assistant strength coach after graduation. One morning in the early 90’s, I had my wheat flakes with sprinkled raisins and felt pretty good as far as throwing a football was concerned. Later that day I was at John’s house in eastern Pennsylvania, sitting in the den when I spotted a football and suggested we go out into his endless backyard and start tossing the football around.

 

Who knows, if John never got hurt in senior year, he’s playing on Sunday. So we’re throwing the ball around. I keep backing up knowing I’ve got a pretty good arm. The further back we go, it seems the more effortlessly he’s throwing the ball to me. Then Cher slapped my face and told me to snap out of it. And I did back then. I could never be a quarterback like John. Thing is, I wish upon a fading star of Paterno and Penn State that this was all a nightmare and Cher could slap my face, tell me to snap out just one more time and then Scarlett O’Hara could come along just about now as I finish this blog and say “Tomorrow is another day” But it isn’t.

 

Cher slaps nick cage You tube (5 seconds)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0x-fkSYDtUY

 

 

CONTACT INFORMATION

website:  http://vichywater.net/Facebook:  Cal Schwartz

Twitter:  Earthood

book trailer. hey its 65 seconds long

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2ko9gcC_M

 

IMPORTANT LINKS:

If on Facebook check out this NJ Discover site:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000125711074

OR   www.njdiscover.com

 

ARE you in search of another blog that is also outspoken, unique BUT refreshingly, topically unbridled which means uninhibited ????  Meet   LINDA CHORNEY:

http://lindachorney.wordpress.com/

 

 

Immortality Institute (which represents advocacy and research for unlimited lifespan)

http://www.imminst.org/

August 2011. Guest on Alicia Cramer Show (podcast) “Thin Healthy Happy” :

http://wausauhypnotherapy.podbean.com/2011/08/02/calvin-barry-schwartz-interview-on-living-life/