Uncategorized – Page 6 – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

New Year’s Morning

After their fight with the gunman, the two raced home, hoping to watch the ball drop. They missed it. Oh well. They didn’t care much. They did their traditional thing, played “New Year’s Day,” and went to sleep listening to Leonard Cohen.

They got up and debated doing the Coney Island Polar Bear Plunge the following day. They were pissed with the weather. So, they decided to stay home and chill. Tzipora called to wish Alana a happy new year. She and Marc’s ex, Jen, are still some of the very few people who know about their pals superpowers. Tzipora was in the bar when Alana debuted hers against some dumb jock who was getting fresh with Alana and her girlfriends. Tzipora’s new marriage is going great. Alana still had baked in her mind when she unleashed her wine and ran out of the bar to avoid getting caught on social media. The truth is Alana debuted them against Marc. But that was in one of their usual fights. They were in their breakup mode. The time in the bar with Tzipora and the other women was the first time she used them to save someone. She gained them in Israel and tested them there. But she was a novice then. Alana remembers Tzipora following her, and they spent the night together. At that time, Marc was on and off with Jen. He did save her a few times. Alana tried to take her out. Then Anat was beginning to use her powers and going after all. That is until she saved and adopted Jerry.

Jay was hungover from his New Year’s Eve celebrations. He was in a club all night. He got into a few fights and reigned with his glass firing. Blood was everywhere. As usual, he evaded the NYPD.

Marc went to buy bagels for Alana. She decided to get out of bed and turn on the TV. Television was new to them. They just got a new one. Marc had an old TV from 1998 or so. He only watched his beloved Yankees and Bloomberg News. En route to the bagel store, he saw Jay stumbling down the block. The two’s eyes locked. Jay tried to shoot Marc with glass. As he fired, he fell backward and landed on his head. Marc fired away barley and drenched him in honey. Marc texts Alana and Anat about this episode. Anat was happy that Jerry’s biological dad was on the floor again. She wonders what, if any, powers her new child would have when it is born. Dan came in with flowers for his wife and some donuts for Jerry.

Another New Year’s Eve

Marc and Alana sat in Marc’s apartment listening to an 80s mix. The Talking Heads were now playing. All of their friends were now married with kids. Newlywed Anat, who was their sworn enemy a short time ago, is now one of their best buddies. How a new enemy can make an old one’s a best friend is amazing. Anat was now six months pregnant. She is hoping for a girl. But would be happy with whatever Hashem brings her.

Anat was having a quiet New Year’s Eve gathering with Dan’s family at her place. Marc and Alana were invited. But as usual, they stayed home on New Year’s Eve. Due to the world situation, no one wanted to celebrate.

Marc and Alana chowed down on burgers and Wise chips. They had some Stella. Marc always thought Stella was his best girl. She never let him down. He teased Alana about that all the time. She would beat him. He loved it.

It was about 11:30. Alana’s and Marc’s lips were locked. Bauhaus was cranking. They wanted to tear off their black clothes and play. They heard screams. They figured it was the holiday revelers. They looked at the window and saw some madman running around with a gun. They kissed, got their coats, and raced outside.

They stood on Queens Boulevard and saw the gun-toting loon firing away. The two of them never faced gunfire. They held hands and raced toward the gunman. The gunman fired at the two. They flipped over and got out of harm’s way. Marc shot honey; Alana unloaded wine like the Emperor wields Force lightning. The gunman was hit. But he kept firing. A bullet grazed Marc’s thigh. He was slightly bleeding. Alana looked at him. A tear fell from her eye. Marc was now in a rage. Alana shot apples. The gunman was hit right in the head. Marc drenched him with honey. Pomegranates went flying. The gunman took another in the head and now was shot in the shoulders and knees. He fell to the ground. Alana walked up to him and kicked the gun out of his hand. The whole neighborhood was stunned. The NYPD was en route. Marc tied up the loon in honey. The two lovers fled the scene. They knew eventually they’d be exposed.

Mr. Harty Memorial

By Mitchell Slepian, Chairman, TMR Scout Museum

Thursday, November 2, Staten Island scouting was hit hard. No all of scouting was hit hard. We lost Mr. Harty. Francis J. Harty was his full name. Mr. H. to most of us. The entire scouting community feels the weight of his loss. He was a scoutmaster for a few decades, Aquehongian Lodge #112’s (112) advisor for five years, Vigil Honor (Bear Lover was his name. I named him), Silver Beaver, and more. There is not enough space in the Grand Canyon to list everything he did and how many lives he influenced.

A few months ago, I was in Alpine Scout Camp for Kintecoying Lodge #4’s (K4) spring meeting. K4 is the merger of the five borough legacy lodges. I miss my 112. My memories of it, many shaped by Mr. H., will live in my vaulted aisles of memory forever, back to Alpine. I was walking along the trails by the dining hall and taking a few pictures. I noticed garbage on the trail. Some water bottles and candy wrappers were on the floor in the middle of our precious woods. Disgusting. I picked everything up and tossed it in the trash can, which was not far from where the trash was thrown. It brought back memories of walking the Camporee Field and trails in William H. Pouch Camp, Staten Island, NY, with Mr. H. Every time he saw trash on the floor, he would pick it up. Sometimes, he may have carried a plastic bag from the local supermarket just to stow away the garbage defacing our precious woods. I mentioned it to a buddy who was a member of Troop 8, the troop Mr. H led for most of his scout life.

Thanks to him, dozens of boys soared to the rank of Eagle, and a few became chief or officers in 112. The number of people called to the Vigil was above average.

My time as lodge chief when he the advisor was terrific. I am now thinking of when we produced our lodge’s newsletter. It was a team effort. My committee chairs mailed or handed me their type reports. No email, social media, or texts back then. Simpler times. I sat on my Atari 600XL and typed everything into a newsletter. Then I gave it to Mr. H. He got someone to run off about 200 copies. A few of us gathered at his house and ate the world’s best chocolate chip cookies baked by his wife, Mrs. Betty Harty. Her Vigil name is Busy Baker. No one bakes like she does. We stapled, folded, and labeled the newsletters. When we were done our trusted advisor would get them over to Mr. George Abdou, another great member of our scouting community, who worked at the Manor Road Post Office. George made sure they were mailed out to our membership. It was a great night of true scout spirit. We may have had to suffer by having a Mets game on TV. But nothing was better than working together—one of the things he made us do.

I remember when we did the “Hernia Patrol” weekend up at Ten Mile River Scout Camps. He decided the lodge should work the weekend and go on a canoe trip. He wanted us to work hard and have fun. A bunch of us youth went up for a few days. We worked hard. Everyone but I worked to get Camp Aquehonga ready for the summer.

Me? I went to Kunatah and worked on the docks at Rock Lake. I was told not to jump in when we finished working. Did I listen? I will let you decide. Then I took a hike to Chappy, Picture Window, and Indian Cliffs. I returned to the rest of the gang, and we had a great BBQ and hung out all night. Bright and early the following day, we paddled the Delaware. Michael Poller was in my canoe. Mr. H. paddled solo and watched us all. We jumped into his Jimmy (remember those cars) and returned to Staten Island—another successful work and fellowship weekend.

As I moved into the adult phase of my scout life, he was there. He made sure I made the transition. He did that for hundreds of Staten Island’s scouts, and we all miss you. But we will continue to be active and help the next youth group. We know you want that. You will always be in our minds as we hike the easy and challenging trails. Because of what we learned under his leadership, we will complete the rugged trails and be stronger.

Be Prepared – Wear Boots

Most readers know I am an Eagle Scout. Many likely know the Scout Motto is “Be Prepared.” The meaning of this takes on many definitions. The more formal, as written by our founder in the Boy Scout Handbook, is you are always in a state of readiness in mind and body to do your duty. Of course, being prepared can also mean you have the tools you need to do your duty.

One of the tools needed, whether in scouts or anywhere else, is a good pair of boots. No, this story will not be about the Boot. That’s an inside joke. It will be about the importance of protecting your feet. I have owned a few pairs of Timberlands. I currently own the classic boot and a more recreational pair. Those boots are still waterproof and do their job. Of course, I have my Docs. I love them, too.

A few years ago, I spent about two weeks in Iceland. The weather was great. We did lots of hiking; the freshly caught salmon and cod were “lish,” another inside joke meaning delicious. The weather was typical Icelandic. It was warm, and suddenly it started to rain, snow, or hail. I was on many trails. Some people were wearing sneakers. Not I. I had my trusted boots. My feet stayed dry the whole time. At one point, I thought they were wet. That is not the case. My feet were a little sweaty. A quick boot sock adjustment cured it all. Those in sneakers were not happy.

I often take pictures of the Coney Island Polar Bears. One day, I hope to go in. One of them has told me I should. She said it is exhilarating. I often walk right into the water in, yes, you guessed it, my boots. As usual, my feet stay dry. I only went a little deeper than the length of the Timberlands.

I spent about two weeks in the Republic of and Northern Ireland a few weeks ago. Wonderful place. I highly recommend it. A co-worker did a similar trip two weeks before I did. She said to make sure you have appropriate footwear. I flew out in my boots and wore them nonstop. I had my Skechers sneakers in my suitcase. I put them on at night when we finish our day trips. Many were beautiful hikes along the spectacular Irish countryside. We had periods of mist and rain. Some people were in sandals or sneakers. Were they happy? No, their feet were soaked. One morning, we didn’t have any significant hikes planned. I was up at the crack of dawn. I always am. It was one of the days we had a later start. Some people chose to sleep in. Not I. I walked and walked in my sneakers. I saw a lighthouse. The road was dry. The path of the building was wet. About 20 minutes into my walk, my feet were drenched through my socks. I never made it to the lighthouse—no big deal. I saw many. I returned to the hotel and changed into my Timberlands with fresh boot socks.

Iceland and Ireland have unique hand-knit wool products. In both nations, I purchased several pairs of socks. Nothing beats them on a cold, wet day. Since I came home from Dublin, we’ve had heavy rain. You know the drill.

Well, it’s time for a hike. See you on the trails.

Back in New York

The newlyweds were still enjoying their Israeli honeymoon. Anat didn’t run into her parents again. She and Dan were having a glorious time. They checked in regularly with Jerry. He was staying at Dan’s sister. He was spending time with Ben; of course, Marc and Alana were shadowing every move he made.

Anat needed him to stay safe. She was scared to leave him alone. However, she knew she needed to spend time with Dan. Anat had to get used to married life. She and Dan spent so much time together pre-wedding that she figured all would be fine.

Marc and Alana were fuming over the playoffs. Marc was madder than usual. He hoped the boys from ‘Da Bronx would take care of Houston. There is hope for a miracle. He needs to go to camp and see if he can find the Woodsman. But this might be out of his area of expertise. The Woodsman hasn’t left camp in decades. Maybe longer.

Jay was bouncing around aimlessly. He was higher than usual. He wanted to get Jerry back. He knew Diane filed for divorce. They never had a good marriage. They wed at the courthouse in the city when Diane found out she was pregnant. It was an abusive relationship. Abusive on both sides.

Jay was hurling glass as he walked along Madison Avenue. People ducked. He missed everyone. With the current crime situation, no one was surprised about a madman on the loose fighting with glass. So far, Marc, Alana, Anat, and now Jerry still fought their battles and walked off without fanfare. They hoped to keep it that way.

Marc saw Jay hurling glass along Madison Avenue. From a distance, he pelted him with pomegranate seeds. Jay went down. Marc got up close and showered him in honey. Jay screamed. No one paid attention.

Meanwhile, Jerry was at Wolfe’s Pond Park with his cousins. Some older kids were in the roller hockey rink. They weren’t playing. They were taking fentanyl. They started acting crazy. Jerry’s cousins were scared.

Jerry smacked the teens with olives. His cousins saw it but ran to their mom. They were so scared they said nothing. Jerry took out the teens. He casually walked over to the site where his aunt was grilling burgers and dogs. The fall day was now perfect. Jerry texted his mom to report his handiwork.

Anat smiled as she read Jerry’s message. Anat wrote back to be careful and be a kid.

The Honeymoon

The wedding was perfect. Dan broke the glass. The two spent their 7 minutes alone. Jerry smiled all night. Marc and Alana sipped some wine. They were limited in their sipping as they were still on guard for Jay. He never showed.

The happily married couple walked into the Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” and did their first dance to Depeche Mode’s “Somebody.” They kept their clothes on during the dance. Martin L. Gore recorded the song in the studio in the nude.

Everyone was happy. The night ended. They went to JFK and boarded an El Al jet to the Holy Land. They landed about 5 p.m. and got on the bus the Safed. Anat loved this town. She had a strange feeling in her heart. To the best of her knowledge, none of her family was still in Safed. Some were in Tel Aviv, some were in the USA, and some were dead.

She and Dan checked into the Dan Ruth Zefat Hotel
and had their first dinner alone as a married couple. Anat was chatting in Hebrew with the waitress. Dan had no clue what they were saying. But didn’t care. She switched to Ladino. It didn’t make a difference to Dan. He was just happy to be married.

They finished their bottle of Kishor red and some hummus, shawarma and veggies. They took a walk through the town. They passed the Sephardic shul. Anat smiled. She remembered when her grandmother took her there as a little girl.
Hand in hand, the two lovebirds walked. Others were strolling by. They were oblivious. She heard someone yell her name. At first, she thought nothing of it. Many women in Israel share her name. She heard it again and again.
She and Dan stopped. Anat was face to face with her ima (mom) and aba (dad). She took a step back. It was the first time they had seen each other in at least 30 years. Her mom asked her what she was doing in Safed. Not wanting to answer. She held up Dan’s hand and hers, plastered the engagement ring and wedding bands on her face, and said on my honeymoon. Why are you here? We moved back, they told her.

Anat looked at Dan her lips were frowning. Dan stood there. Anat held back. She wanted to splatter her parents with raisins, dates and prunes. She squeezed Dan’s hand. Her parents congratulated her on the wedding. They didn’t even ask why they weren’t invited. In their hearts, they always thought if their daughter cleaned up, she’d find someone and never talk to them. Anat and Dan started walking away. Anat didn’t even tell them that they were grandparents.

The Wedding

Today is the wedding day. Anat and Dan have been waiting for a long time. But the wait was to plan the perfect wedding. No, Anat never called her parents to say she was engaged. She cried that her grandmother wasn’t around to with her. But she knew she is watching over her.

The outdoor setting looked beautiful. Dead flowers wall all over. Most guests arrived in all black. The photographers were taking photos of Anat and Dan. Both were wearing black. As was Jerry, the ring bearer. Marc was perched up in a tree, Alana was walking the venue. Jen was so happy she made amends with Anat and was in the wedding party.

The wedding party started walking into a medley of Bauhaus, the Cure and the Sisters of Mercy. Anat walked down the aisle by herself. She knew she had no one to give her away. Her parents gave her away at birth. Joy Division’s “Love will Tear Us Apart,” followed by “She’s Lost Control,” ushered her in. She looked at Dan, whose parents walked with him to Depeche Mode’s, “Somebody.” The rabbi began the ceremony. The glass was broken. They kissed and the festivities started.

Drinks were poured. Photos were shot. Finger food was munched on. Despite Marc’s special request, liver was not served. Not that’d he would have dined on it. Jerry was all smiles with his family. He knew he’d be okay. He wanted a sister. He figured they’d find her in Prospect or Central Parks. Cute he is.

The bell rung to go to the formal dining setting. Black tablecloths, plates adorned the tables. Alana was sipping Kishor red. Marc was still in his tree. He heard a noise. He was in the distance the extra calvary standing guard in the background. A herd of might bison were now present.

Even if Jay came to destroy the wedding the bison would have him for dinner.

Jerry fights dad

erry and Ben were playing in Central Park. Jen was watching the kids. Anat was meeting with the florist. She didn’t want live flowers. The bride to be wanted dead ones. She thought live flowers would be too colorful. Dan’s mom loved her. She knows she is strange. They had a sit-down and said she wouldn’t be an overbearing mother-in-law. But she should at least have colorful flowers. She gave into Anat’s demands of a black wedding dress. Anat wouldn’t kid anyone. Young and innocent she was not, far from that.

Jerry was riding his bike. He and Ben were racing. They were keeping up with each other. As Jerry turned a corner, Jay was waiting. Jerry got blasted in the face with glass. Most of it shattered from impact. He only got a few nicks. Jay went after Ben.

Jerry knew all about Jay. He was happy to be away with him. He knows Anat loves and will do anything for him. She already proved that many times over. He, at a young age, understands how he changed her. Jay was chasing after the kids on his skates. Jerry fired green and black olives at Jay’s eyes. He landed several right into his biological dad’s left eye. Jerry aimed for Jay’s wheels. Direct hit. Jay started to slide. Meanwhile, Jen was trying to keep with this mess. She was screaming at the boys to pedal toward her while Jay slid into a tree.

Jen caught up to the two kids and texted Anat, Alana and Marc. Anat raced out of the florist and headed to the park. The other two were still in camp. They were getting ready to head home. But Marc couldn’t leave.

Marc sinks into a depression

Marc was thrilled to see the Woodsman. He knows his words speak many truths. Yet Marc was so depressed. Here he was in his childhood home and now it was just barren land.

Alana put her arms around him. She felt his pain. She knows as brutal and cold as his, he will always crumble when things happen to his home. She remembered when they tore down the original Yankee Stadium. He went there and prayed at its ruins. Whenever he visits the new Stadium, he walks the park’s grounds where the House that Ruth Built sat.

In his mind, Marc was contemplating his next course of action. Most important, he had to do something that would make the Woodsman proud. He walked the trails up to a window that is quite picturesque. He took in the view and traveled a little further toward a cliff. Here were the ruins of former cabins, a dining hall and a latrine. It has been a long process, but this place has been made smaller and smaller through the years.

His iPhone buzzed. It was Anat. She wanted to know how he was doing. Alana called her. It’s amazing how the three of them became friends after all the fights they had. She said Jay was still bothering her and Jerry, who is getting stronger.

Marc was pleased. He knew he’d have to provide security at her wedding. Of course, Jen would be there. At this point, he didn’t care. Marc was happy Jen was doing well. He and Alana would go on till the end of time. Probably longer.

Marc Climbs up the steps

The trail

A shaken Marc began climbing the rickety steps to get to the top of his hill. The steps used to be solid mud. Due to the site’s closure, they are overgrown with weeds and other plant life. No one has taken care of this place since 1988. People have visited. Fires have raged. Bears have walked the site. Now Marc is walking with a mission.

Wearing his trusted Timberlands, he hiked to the original site of his leanto and prayed. He went to the cinder blocks that held the Palace. He fell to the floor. He went where the treehouse used to be. He kept hiking. He flashbacked to 1986 when he won the camp top leadership elections all but one week. The kid who beat him was his buddy. He went into the health lodge immediately after winning. By default, Marc assumed the role. When the guy came back from the health lodge, he rested. All was good. They played U2, Depeche Mode and Steely Dan in their leanto. Marc hated Steely Dan. His buddy hates U2 and Depeche Mode. A few leantos away, Metallica blasted.

He walked in the direction of the ‘ole latrine. Long torched. One of his leaders who went in buckets possibly was the last to use this latrine. We will never really know.

Marc has approached the site of the latrine and looking for the tip-pan. Suddenly, the world stopped. He paused. Alana was a few feet behind him. She wanted to give him his space. But she knew he was fragile. She had to watch him.

All was silent. The breeze turned into a stronger wind. The animals stood still. For a mere few seconds, Marc shut his eyes. Upon opening them, he was surrounded by a herd of bison. He fell to his knees. As he hit the ground, he saw the Woodsman.

“Marc, you need to stay strong. You’re one of the last. Forces are trying to destroy the lovely grounds we were raised on. You know I’ve been patrolling this area since the beginning of time. I’ve seen a lot. With your leadership, we will see more. Different, but we survive.”