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Yesterday was more dentite(dental office sitting routines); a follow-up to my sinus bone implant. Last Saturday, on a local municipal tennis court, I asked my doubles partner, a periodontist, “What was the implant made of?” “Cow bone,” he said matter-of-factly. So I said, “But I haven’t ingested any cow substance (red meat) since 1975.” To which he shrugged shoulders. “Will I reject it?” “No, it’s absorbed by your bone fairly quickly.” But I’m still firm in my resolution not to consume red meat; the list of reasons why, continues to grow as I hope that cow bone in my jaw does. After the periodontist, I lazily strolled next door to my orthodontist who was all backed up; kids returning home from camp; brace wires need tightening.

I never went to sleep-away camp (the poor son of a women’s shoe salesmen but no pity please) so I still watch ‘Meatballs’ with Bill Murray to see what I missed. I get all choked-up at the end when everyone says goodbye; a passage to a new time of life. For a couple of summers, I went to a local Y Day Camp; not the same as being away from home. I could’ve used the developmental experiences, away from young sisters, a grandmother in a diabetic wheel chair and general malaise malcontent from hot lonely summers in Newark city. The summer I was twelve was my last camping experience; it was checkered. The best I came away with from the camp awards banquet (featuring Good Humor Toasted Almond Bars) was a ‘Third Most Improved Softball Player.’ One of the kids yelled, “My grandmother could’ve won that award.” I thought, “Not mine.” Mid-summer, early in the camping day, we played bombardment (dodge ball). I was wiry, always avoided confrontation so I failed to attempt to catch the ball, violently discharged towards me by the other team. The camp head counselor warned me to try and catch the ball; failure to try would result in my having to box (fight in the ring) the biggest, meanest, toughest kid in camp later that day; Howard J. was twice my size, red-haired and smiled sadistically at me when I dodged the ball. The fight was on for 4 PM. I was Gary Cooper at ‘High Noon.’ I was also petrified; my camp comrades did little to assuage my fears. Soon we were playing softball in nearby Weequahic Park. A bus came to fetch us for swimming. I ducked into a bunch of trees and waited for the bus to leave then walked all the way home, by myself, crying. Mother came to camp the next day and reduced the head counselor. I bumped into Howard J. (I still protect his last name) fifteen years later. Funny: I was twice his size with light dreamy brown hair.

Driving home from the orthodontist, I got stuck behind a school bus ferrying kids from camp. An overcast sky and inhalation of bus exhaust sent me off to late September and I decided that lazy crazy days of summer officially ducked away and are Gone With Margaret Mitchell’s Wind. Often I wonder why she never had another major publication after winning the Pulitzer Prize. Ms. Mitchell was killed by a speeding car when she stepped off a curb in Atlanta. If you see me walking the streets of Laredo or Manhattan, I’ll be flush-up against store fronts; far from the maddening streets of incorrigible taxi-cabs and messengers on brakeless bikes, delivering cool pizza or United Nations parcels. Reminds me of a scene in ‘North by Northwest,’ one of Hitchcock’s best, when a little boy covers up his ears before a shot rings out in a cafeteria. Thing is, how’d the little boy know there was going to be a gun shot?

I’m going to miss this summer of my content. My servitude with braces in my mouth is nearly done. I’ve had ample down time on the wondrous jetties of Jersey and discovered a myriad of Jersey musical venues. I wonder (there’s a bar in Asbury Park called the ‘Wonder Bar) if the vibrations and particulates of Springsteen and Bon Jovi’s spiritual atomic energies has created so much home-grown wonderful music. Part of my contentment is also this new gig writing about the joys of Monmouth County for OUR TOWN/Barfly newspaper/publications.

Last week, I ventured to a small waterfront town called Keyport to see/hear Sandy Mack and the Asbury All Stars in a totally amazing blues concert. Ambience: darkening skies, puffs of clouds, water vistas and a bridge all lit up in the distance; a bridge over untroubled water, perhaps leading to Sedona or Guadeloupe. Just so you know, sitting there absorbing Sandy Mack’s blues music, I pinched myself five times; my highest ranking.

Life is strange. I said that in the August 3rd blog. The other night I was taking out the garbage, walking under over-hanging branches to get to the side of my garage, when suddenly I felt trapped, ensnared; something grabbed my face. I saw a flash of light and a pattern in front of my eyes. Whatever, it wasn’t letting go. My breath was taken. I just couldn’t imagine. Then out of the corner of my eyes, I saw something dark, moving away. I managed to break free, turn around, gasp and used the old ‘WTF’ expression; it was nearly 1 AM; everyone was sleeping, so all through local houses, not a creature was stirring except this large arachnid spider whose net I got caught in. Damn, I never saw it coming. And it must’ve gone up rather quickly; I walk there all the time. Here’s cerebral on the spot thoughts:

Years ago I saw the movie ‘Charlotte’s Web.” I liked spider (arachnid) Charlotte and Zuckerman’s famous pig, Wilbur. Redemption; I never ate pig because they were presumably too intelligent to eat; of course since 1975, I don’t eat red meat at all.

Mini potbelly pigs are gaining popularity and recognition as great pets due to a combination of extraordinary traits that many people would not think of when considering a pig; traits such as cleanliness, diminutive size, friendly disposition and intelligence. Imagine: my wife has rejected thirty years of getting a dog overtures so one day soon, I’ll walk in with a pot belly pig. Debbie Reynold’s voice was Charlotte in the 1973 cartoon movie.

Five cans a week was I; cans of tuna that is; nothing quite like a tuna sub sandwich, a beer and a cigarette or two. Twenty years ago, those were days of my smoky summer discontent, ballooning in weight. Now, tuna is a personal luxury, down to once or twice a month. You see, I’ve got this aversion to mercury messing with my cerebral thought processing cells. Nasty stuff it has become. And some tuna like North Atlantic Blue Fin is virtually extinct; a saving grace for unborn children who need cerebral development without mercury? Here’s the deal with tuna; there’s so many things wrong with eating the fish; I found this neat youtube video to watch. Enjoy:

a startling Greenpeace video on tuna

Are the world’s most majestic marine game fish – bluefin tuna, swordfish, marlin, sailfish and sharks – in real danger of disappearing forever? Of course they are. The primary cause of this decimation of the Atlantic Ocean’s greatest game fish has been a 30-year absence of proper stewardship by those national and international governmental bodies which are responsible for managing the fishery and conserving the resource. The above video will nudge us to understanding the problem: Industrial-scale fishing operations conducted throughout the world’s oceans use destructive and indiscriminate gear types primarily to catch swordfish and tunas.  But the fishing lines big companies use, averaging over 25 miles in length and armed with hundreds or even thousands of hooks, also accidentally capture and kill much greater numbers of unmarketable juveniles, non-target fish and other wildlife including marine mammals, sea turtles and marine birds. So what I am saying here is, give peace a chance and that I’m not only cutting down on tuna because of mercury but because big companies fish with disregard. Seems like old times; like when drug companies disregard side effects or car companies forget to recall. Subliminal: Somalia.

So here I am writing my blog; a reed of ceremonial hay dangles between pursed lips. An old straw Rutgers hat brings me to a sleepy river down south; the fish are jumping and the cotton is high. I feel absurd. I love writing absurdities.

Gershwin ‘Summertime’ video Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MIDOEsQL7lA

Somewhere in hot parched Texas (no global warming? Texas and 22% of their children have no health insurance) there’s a county fair where butter on a stick is deep fried in butter. Healthful(?) living under the governorship of a man who threatened Federal Reserve head Bernanke with physical harm for (a) being treasonous by printing new money and (b) if he ever comes to Texas while he’s governor. Ah gee, Edith, “Stifle yourself.” In the title of this blog I said “How I Want to Say Something Stupid, Political.” So here it really goes. “Something Stupid, Political.” That’s all folks. I’m done. Like why bother. All the energy in the world; enough to get us through a million wormholes or away from the same number of celestial black holes in outer space; won’t make a dental difference in talking/changing/understanding American politics. Hey, one in seven Americans are on food stamps. This just in: for the first time since 2004, the record business is up. And so is the plastic bag business. Our world uses (eats) 1 million plastic shopping bags every minute of the long, hot, almost end of summer day. Hooray for Hollywood and China where they banned plastic bags.

I get eleven email notifications a day informing me of having won a lot of money overseas. Here’s an email (slightly doctored) I just got:

“Dear Email User

Good news to you from the British Puratanical Oil Plc Cash Offer, You’ve won 750,000.00 (Seven Hundred And Fifty Thousand Great British Pounds GBP) in the satellite software email lottery. On line Sweepstakes International program. Conducted by British Premier Oil Plc in which your e-mail addresses was pick randomly by software powered by the Internet.

Below is the claims and verifications form. You are expected to fill and return it immediately so we can start Processing your

claims:

1. Full Names:

2. Residential Address:

3. Direct Phone No

4. Fax Number

5. Occupation:

6. Sex:

7. Age:

8. Nationality:

9. Annual Income:

10.Won Before:

Contact Person:

Alfred Newman

Tel: +443014455360

Sincerely,

Lucretia Borgia

British Puritanical Oil Plc Promotion Team”

Why do I mention all these bogus emails about my supposed wealth? Being an insufferable paranoid, I believe one day the real email will come along when I went ahead and trashed it. So once again, I could’ve been a contender ‘On the Waterfront.’

A final absurdity of the day: renowned clothing retailer Abercrombie and Fitch has decided to pay ‘The Situation” Mike Sorrentino from ‘Jersey Shore’ NOT to wear their clothing on the reality show. No further comment.

Finally, last night I saw the movie ‘Sarah’s Key’ in Red Bank, N.J. and sociologically speaking, the silence in the theatre was paradoxically deafening. Last week, I saw ‘The Help’ in front of a mesmerized audience. Next week: a remembrance of the ‘March on Washington, August 28, 1963;’ the summer of my coming of age, slipping from auditory wetness behind ears to becoming a college student, trying to listen to the world. In my freshman year of college, a speaker from South Vietnam spoke at a convocation about the changing face of southeast Asia. I went, absorbed and heard something. This summer, which was just like my freshman year: I absorbed, felt and heard. Yesterday I was saddened when summer ducked out, although it’s still August. Why? Because I’ve absorbed so much summer life; almost to an enlarged cephalic state; I can’t get enough. A special song comes to mind: ‘Simple Gifts.’ President Obama had it played at his inauguration. Summer was realization of simple gifts; sunsets, jetty sitting, Jersey shore music, boardwalk aromas and a wonderful wife and son. But watch the rebound: In 14 days, Rutgers football team kicks off. And a few months after that, with a few snow storms to shovel through, I’ll listen to Nat King Cole sing ‘Those Lazy Hazy Days of Summer’ and life, simply gifted, goes on with enough bathing suits in the upstairs closet already for next summer.

Nat King Cole on Youtube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hv4gYHlqTds

Simple Gifts:  Jewel singing youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=amcGIfMu0bw

Lyrics:

“Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free

’tis the gift to come down where you ought to be

And when we find ourselves in the place just right

‘Twill be in the valley of love and delight.”

CONTACT INFO:

website:  http://vichywater.net

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter: Earthood

Email: earthgood@gmail.com

BOOK TRAILER:

LINKS:

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/

Are you in search of another blog that is also outspoken, unique but
unbridled which means uninhibited ????  Meet Linda Chorney:
http://lindachorney.wordpress.com/