LFS: The Storyteller

©2005 by LeeZard NOTE: I wrote this after coming home from the "all-years" reunion for Andrew Jackson High School in Queens, NY. They were closing the high school and replacing it - in the building - with four magnet programs. It was my first ever reunion and it had a profound impact. A shorter version of this essay appeared in New York Newsday. The Corner I didn’t even know I had to get back to The Corner. When I got there, even after more than 30 years, it was as if I’d never left. There has been “a corner” in all our lives—a store or mall; a diner or restaurant; a place for teenagers to go to when there’s nothing to do—or, something terribly important. For me, it was the corner of Francis Lewis and Merrick Boulevards in the Laurelton section of Queens — a convergence of time and place. We met at The Corner after school, after dinner, after a date or after a fight with our parents. When I was a teenager there was a floating, ever changing, always connected grou

©2009 by LeeZar d Shortly after last year's presidential election, LeeZard wrote the following piece. We should've known we'd be updating it soon. In fact, LeeZard is surprised it's taken this long! So, now, please read the updated edition of "The Stupid Politicians Club (SPC)." ----------- Our Motto Move over Elliott Spitzer and Dubya, The Stupid Politicians Club has a new member. In fact, Illinois Governor Rod Blagojevich may have already earned his place in the Stupid Politicians Hall of I’ve Been Framed.” Sell Barack Obama’s senate seat? You’ve got to be kidding. We all know that this is the norm in Illinois politics and in other Third World countries but this goes beyond stupid. Well, move over again you guys, your newest member was caught with his member in Argentina. Yes, we are talking about South Carolina's esteemed Republican Governor, Mark Sanford. You could almost mistake Sanford for a Democrat, not for his politics but for his particular SPC

©2008 by LeeZard Throughout history writers have been trying to define and analyze love, capture it in words and make us feel it in our hearts. LeeZard thinks he'll take a crack at it. “All You Need is Love” "Can't Buy Me Love" "All My Loving" "And I love Her" "P.S. I Love You" "She Loves You (Yeah Yeah Yeah)" The Beatles Not that I fancy myself an expert; quite the opposite. Remember, this is the guy who spent ages 17-51 in some form of chemically or alcoholically altered state. It is unlikely anything I thought was love was really love. That shit messes up your central nervous system, which is where some of that love resides, I’m sure (see "Chemistry of Love" to the right). So, I’m taking this on as a rookie. Hang on; here we go. Ah, so many kinds of love, so little time. For our purposes, let’s talk of romantic love – the best and the worst kind of love. We’ve all been there; we’ve all felt the joys and the pain. “L

©2008 by LeeZard I may be on the cusp of becoming “an elderly gentleman,” but I’ve never had to deal with chronic pain – until this year. I want to share this experience with you because, by reading this Blog, you are perversely interested in my journey through life. But, I also want to relate my first real experience with managing pain - or not managing pain - via the use of prescribed narcotics. OH MY GAWD!! It started out last February as a dull ache down the back of my legs. I mostly felt it when I awoke in the morning and then a little bit after my daily three-mile power walk with Brando the Wonder Dog (BTWD). “Muscle soreness,” thought I, and tried to ignore it. Three weeks later, the soreness was still there. In fact, it was getting worse, even with a couple of Aleve every 12-hours. Time to call The Doc. I’ve written about Doc before, about how he saved my sorry ass when I was at the deepest level of desperation right before I got sober. One of the reasons I called Doc then was

©2008 by LeeZard All Photos ©2008 by LeeZard There’s trouble in paradise – Hawaiian paradise. That’s trouble with a capital “T,” it rhymes with “D” and that stands for DOLLARS. Make that tourist dollars and the trouble is, there aren’t enough tourist dollars flowing into the 50th state, especially Maui. Tourism accounts for up to 70% of Maui’s economy. It is one of the world’s most popular destinations. Conde Nast Traveler readers consistently vote Maui “the best island in the world.” Maui is my favorite of Hawaii’s tourist-popular islands. There is something for everyone. You have Lahaina, the center of tourism with its cruise ship harbor, funky shops, hip clubs, galleries and restaurants; Ka’anapali to the north with its high-end condo resorts, hotels and the upscale shoppers’ mall, Whalers Village; and, Kihei to the south with Ma’alaea Bay, its collection of various tour boats and the island’s absolutely fabulous aquarium. If you want to escape the regular Maui tourism haunts, ther

All good things must come to an end. In 2005, I fulfilled a life-long dream and bought a Porsche. Now, after much soul-searching and top-down driving, I've decided to sell it to finance my other life-long dream - to be a successful writer. So...... Farewell to the Blue Streak ©2008 by LeeZard Blue Streak, Blue Streak, Gonna sell the Blue Streak. Dream car, ride supreme, Time to chase the other dream. Three years, day or night, Had fun, outta sight. Thought hard, inner fight, But I know its time to write. So farewell, super car, Still lookin’ good, still drivin’ nice. Ride on down the road, Please bring a hefty price.

...........I am proud to be an American.

©2008 by LeeZard In 1776, just as the nascent United States of America was declaring its independence, Edward Gibbon published his classic (to this day) "Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire." Two-hundred-thirty-two years later, it strikes me that one could pen a similar tract entitled "The Rise & Fall of the American Century" and not stray too far from many of Gibbon's analyses. The decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable effect of immoderate greatness. Prosperity ripened the principle of decay; the causes of destruction multiplied with the extent of conquest. - Edward Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, “General Observations on the Fall of the Roman Empire in the West.” (Edward Gibbon, oil painting by Henry Walton, 1774; in the National Portrait Gallery, London) I'm certainly not the first to mentally compare the current state of America t        ao the fall of the Roman Empire but, I think it is wise to reexamine the similaritie

©2008 by LeeZard June 10, 2008: ten years – 3,653 days. Who’da thunk it? Ten years ago on this date I walked – very drunk – into my first for real meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I took my last drink on that date. Oh, I’d stuck my toe into AA in late 1984 but I wasn’t ready then. I signed up for an outpatient recovery program mainly to get the wife off my back. It didn’t work, neither the recovery nor getting she-who-shall-not-be-mentioned off my back. I knew I had a “problem” with pot but I really loved it. I drank just because; well, maybe just to boost the pot high. I knew deep down I wasn’t really ready to give up either one. When you enter a recovery program, they do an assessment. It is a list of questions and you can either be honest with (yourself and) them or you can just bullshit (yourself and) them. For some reason, I decided to be honest. “Well,” the counselor said as she looked over my questionnaire, “it appears that you are an early-to-mid-stage alcoholic.” One of the sy

©2008 by LeeZard LeeZard has a new hero. No, make that SHEro but I cannot reveal her name. I don’t want the troubles I am about to relate to revisit her. Let’s just call her Sarge. Sarge is a cop. In fact, she is a Sergeant and that is the nub of the story. Unfortunately (in her agency), the fact that Sarge is both female and African-American led to the tale I am about to share. Sarge came to her rank the hard way, through a forest of sexism and racism that would’ve thwarted a lesser man or woman. She achieved the rank despite the odds and she took the very high road to get there. As I was having lunch with Sarge the other day and listening to her story, I said, “You know, what you are telling me reminds me of what Jackie Robinson went through when he first came up to the Brooklyn Dodgers. Except, THAT was in 1947.” “I know,” she sighed, “some things never change.” -------------- When Sarge and I last hung out, she was a basic patrol officer. LeeZard was posing as a reporter at the ti