Jay’s been lying low. He knows what his cousin, Christy, has been doing. The two do not know each other well. They probably would compete for attention. But Jay thought it might be good for the two of them to meet up.
Nathan’s
Jay knows Christy spends most of her time wreaking havoc at Coney Island. He decided he’d get there early on Thursday. He arrived and quietly went into Nathan’s for a hot dog, fries, and Coney Island Mermaid Pilsner. He came off as a typical customer. He wore jeans, shorts, sneakers, and a faded Mets shirt. His t-shirt choices are often another thing that pissed off Marc and Alana, the two diehard fans of the Bronx Bombers.
The Thunderbolt
He quietly munched on his food while sipping his pilsner. He heard screams. He knew the rides were opening and figured they were coming from the people on the Thunderbolt. Nah. He looked toward the boardwalk and saw his cousin on the prowl.
The Beach
Jay got up and walked towards her. He yelled out her name. She turned around and saw him. She grinned and kept attacking little kids on the boardwalk and landed several pieces of stale bread onto the beach. He was about three feet away from her. She glanced at him and kept firing at the children.
Christy fired at Jay. He was not surprised. He fired glass at her volley of bread and knocked it down mid-flight. She managed to hit him in the head. He retaliated. It looked like the two of them would wage war over who reigns as the chief nemesis.
About a week ago, several of my friends gathered at the home of one of our dearest friends, brothers, and mentors. He is getting on in year. We were packing up things he is donating. He and his wife sat in the living room while we packed and dined on turkey sandwiches. It was a bittersweet moment.
Grand Central Station
Our friend is involved in many organizations and is a retired engineer who helped build NYC’s subway system. His home is chock-full of memorabilia from all his interests, including many books on the history of our nation’s infrastructure. Some are written for engineers. Some for the general public. I snagged a few books. Of the infrastructure books, I took the ones written for the average Joe.
Last Saturday, I started reading “The Road Taken: The History and Future of America’s Infrastructure” by Henry Petroski, a professor of civil engineering at Duke University. I am about halfway through it. While reading, I was thinking about my take on the history Petroski was telling. He’s written several other books. I plan to read a few.
As I turned the pages, I put myself in my friend’s chair and started thinking about how he understood the topics in comparison to me. I know he’d have a better grasp of the subject matter and may have worked on some of the projects discussed in the book. For me, it was a learning experience because it was a new topic. I plan to read and learn more. I like it, as it is different for me, and change is the only constant.
Then I thought of other books I got from friends and some comic books that I was given at various comic cons. Were their thoughts of this literature channeling through me? Would I understand it better or worse? Of course, for the books from family and friends, I likely knew why they read them. Some of the giveaways from the comic cons were probably read for similar reasons. Like me, they like the Incredible Hulk.
For years, people have debated whether it is more appropriate to say “Merry Christmas,” “Happy Chanukah,” or the more general “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings.” Hallmark once produced simpler cards for that purpose, and e-card companies do the same today.
Every year, I send Chanukah cards to people I know who celebrate it and other holiday cards to those who do not. I make all my cards myself, using my own photos and high-quality printing from Printique by Adorama. I do this for a few other holidays as well, and I also send the cards by email.
Yesterday was Father’s Day. Someone I had never met wished me a happy Father’s Day. I chair a committee for one of the organizations I belong to, and he was running an event. A few months ago, he texted to ask whether my committee would participate. We exchanged information, and I attended. I had a great time, although the event chair did not show up. I had not heard from him in a while, but I expected to hear from him about a future event. I would want my crew to be there because the exposure is valuable.
Early this morning, I glanced at my iPhone and saw his “Happy Father’s Day” text. I do not have children and probably never will. My father passed away in April of 2014. I do not think I saw him on Father’s Day the year before. Maybe. He lived in Florida. I am in NYC. Sometimes I flew down, or he flew up.
Anyway, why would someone who doesn’t know me wish me a Happy Father’s Day? Yes, he friended me on Facebook. Perhaps he looked at my posts. The last time I posted was the summer of 2020. I was zooming with a friend. She was lounging in her bed with her dogs. I posted the screenshot. If you looked at my posts from six years ago, it is obvious I do not have kids. All my friends post pictures of important moments with their children. For example, graduations, becoming an Eagle Scout, being the lead in a school show, or winning a sports competition.
To me, his text made no sense. It annoyed me. I have always erred on the side of being politically correct during holidays so as not to insult anyone. But never thought Father’s Day would fall into that. I always wish my mother and grandmother a Happy Mother’s Day and extend my wishes to a few aunts and a friend or two whose kids I am close to. But I know they are celebrating. I don’t consider this a winter holiday when you may not know what someone celebrates. Maybe they celebrate Festivus? I figured Father’s Day is easier. Either you’re a dad, or you’re not. Or your dad is around, and you should be wishing him a great day.
So, what did I do for Father’s Day? I did something I never did; I went to the cemetery and visited my father and all my relatives nearby. I did some grocery shopping and sadly watched the Yankees lose.
Did It Make You Question the Quality of the Company You Interviewed With?
By Mitchell Slepian
A few weeks ago, I received an email asking me to set up an interview with an organization I was interested in working for. The interview would be with its chief of staff. She was the sender of the email. I read it carefully and noticed that she wanted to interview for a role I did not apply for. I had done none of the work this role required. I searched the website. Sure enough, that role and the one I wanted were on the job board.
About an hour later, she sent me a note apologizing for typing in the wrong role and said we would talk about the position I applied for. We figured out a time to connect.
I wound up doing the interview two days earlier than planned. Out of the blue, she emailed to ask if I could hop on Zoom. I did. It was supposed to be 15 minutes. We stayed on for around 30. I sent the thank-you note and included some things I could bring to the table if hired.
The next morning, I got the rejection letter. I was upset. The job was a carbon copy of many roles I had. There wasn’t one thing they asked that I hadn’t done. I have the portfolio to prove it. Then I read the note again. She included the lead sentence twice. The note had punctuation marks randomly added. There were a few typos and poor verb usage. I am still upset I was rejected. I want to work there. But it makes me wonder if the chief of staff cannot properly proofread what was more or less a three-sentence note, what does that tell me about the organization?
This was far from the first time I had received notes like this or had other “interesting” experiences. Have you experienced notes along the lines of this one?
I volunteer for many organizations. I am the chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Camps Museum. I was vice president of my co-op’s board and built the PR function for American Friends of ELEM, which now has a professional team.
When I volunteered on many political campaigns, I helped run the campaign office. We lived in it. It was fun. We won some. We lost fun. We ate too much junk food. But had a lot of good pizza. Nothing’s better.
I belong to most of NYC’s museums. A few weeks ago, one of them sent an email seeking volunteers for a specific program. I was available during the times they were hoping for people to work and had done some of the work they wanted you to do. I sent an email offering my time.
Weeks went by, and I thought they had forgotten about me. Two days ago, I got an email from them saying that many people had applied and that they could not accommodate everyone. Therefore, they picked the first batch of emails. They thanked us and said if you’re still interested in volunteering to email their volunteer coordinator. I did.
She responded very quickly and told me they didn’t have any opportunities for me. They’d keep my note on file. I learned very young never to turn away a volunteer. In all of the groups I have worked with, we always found work for people to do.
Just last week, I assisted in a volunteer work effort. We had about 10 people packing up donated items for a future museum display. Some people who came have mobility issues, and some are too old to lug boxes up and down a few flights of stairs. Their knees would go out. Did we tell them not to work? Not at all. We found so much constructive work for them to do that they were busy for hours. We fed everyone. We had many food options.
We accomplished a lot over about 4 or 5 hours. The next step is to sort through what we packed and see what we will keep. A few of us already started and filled many trash bags.
The great thing was that we all worked together. We got the job done, and no one was turned away. The entire group will be back for the next volunteer session. Never turn away a volunteer.
Marc and Alana went to visit Jen. Their kids sat in their strollers, under Ben’s watchful eyes. He was getting bigger and smarter. Like his mom and dad, he was friendly. Probably not a mean bone in his body. He’d never develop superpowers. That’d destroy his sweetness. He’d have to be always on his guard.
Morrissey was blasting on Apple Music as they sat down to eat and sip Pinot Noir from City Winery. Their conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine and Morrissey’s voice. Some people hate the Moz. He speaks the truth and is a great man and entertainer.
Marc and Alana discussed the mess with Christy A. Jen was still a little shaken from her run-in with them. She was still pleased that Jerry was there to keep them safe. She was amazed at how a little boy could be so strong. But she knows he’s Jay’s kid and Anat adopted him when Jay left him for dead. That kid had to be strong.
Jen’s a decent cook. She served skirt steaks with cauliflower and other veggies. She even baked a peach cobbler. Meanwhile, Christy A. was near the Conference House. She rarely goes to Staten Island. No one was sure why she left Brooklyn. Who would ever?
A band was about to play. They opened with “Rescue” from Echo & the Bunnymen and played a medley of tunes from the Cure, the Smiths, R.E.M., Erasure and the Pet Shop Boys. I guess a cover band can mix the Cure in with the Smiths. Imagine Morrissey and Robert being civil to each other?
They just finished playing R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” and launched into the Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry.” As soon as the vocalist got to the lyrics, “I try to laugh about it and hide all the tears in my eyes,” there were tears all over the Conference House.
Middle-aged adults, some with their young children, were getting smacked with semolina bread. The goths were hit harder than the others. None of the people who usually stopped Christy A. were anywhere near Staten Island.
Almost at the same time, Marc’s, Alana’s, Jen’s and Anat’s iPhones buzzed with an Apple News flash. It mentioned the NYPD was on the scene at the Conference House trying to stop an attack. They texted Dan to see what he knew. He wrote back that he was out in the park with Gili when he got the alert. His commander asked how fast he could get to the Conference House. He said he’d rush over.
Meanwhile, things were getting messier in Tottenville at the site of the Conference House. The emergency response unit was getting smashed. Dan dropped Gili off at his parents’ and jumped into his car and prayed that Anat and her Avenger-like friends were en route. He had no idea.
His Wi-Fi wasn’t working well. He was able to call Anat. She was home and said she’d do her best to get there. But the trip from the Upper East Side to the southernmost tip of Staten Island was not easy to make. She’s not Superman and couldn’t fly. She didn’t have a tie fighter. She would figure it out. She wondered where the others were.
May It Bring Us a World Championship from Its Final Resting Place
By Mitchell Slepian
I love watches. I haven’t given them up because of my iPhone and do not own an Apple Watch. I’d never stop looking at it. I like traditional timepieces. They are classy. I dream of a few—Breitling, Panerai, and Patek Philippe—probably more.
Yankee Watch
At least a decade ago, my mom gave me a New York Yankees (NYY) watch as a holiday gift. She got my brother-in-law a New York Mets one. I guess a Boston Red Sox timepiece would have been worse. Sadly, my watch died.
Yankee Stadium
About three weeks ago, I took it to the jewelry store thinking it needed a new battery. The jeweler is a big-time Yankee fan. Whenever I go there, we chat about the boys from ‘Da Bronx. I asked him to change the battery. He popped it open and inserted a new battery. He couldn’t set the time. He examined the watch like the trainers look at the injured players and declared it dead.
Watch Case – Casket
We were both upset. He said, time for a new watch. They always try to sell me watches. They have a nice collection. They did not have any NYY or novelty watches. Just nice brands, such as Hamilton, Longines, Seiko (not Grand Seiko, another dream), and Tissot.
I texted and called my mom about the death. She understood my despair. She told me I should bury it at Yankee Stadium.
I faithfully wore this watch during many seasons. Sometimes, I wore it to the Stadium. About a year ago, I got another NYY watch. I switched between the two. I want a World Series one. That’s another story.
As the Beatles sing, “Your Mother Should Know,” she knew. I had to plan a funeral. I knew it should be conducted the next time the Red Sox were in town. A few days ago, I carried my watch in its black case. Now it’s coffin, and took it to the Stadium. I was already going to the game. As usual, I got there four or five hours before they opened the gates.
I walked around Macombs Dam Park. That’s where the original Stadium was. I miss it dearly and wish it still stood. I used to walk by it when it was boarded up. I used to say prayers for it. I wasn’t the only one.
The Iron Horse
I got the Lou Gehrig sign, which has his famous “Yet today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.” quote. I took the watch out of its bag and went to the baseball fields that used to be the field. I gathered up as much dirt as I could put into the bag.
Final look at watch at its resting place
I placed the watch in front of the sign. I took a final look and sealed the coffin. I began to pray. I told it to RIP and asked the former greats, who watch over us, to welcome it. I included (George) Steinbrenner. We really need him.
Ready to Rest
I dumped the dirt out of the bag and placed it on top of the watch’s casket. My eyes teared. I said the mourners’ kaddish, took three steps back, and walked off to Stan’s. I sat shiva for it there. I did wash as one does when leaving a cemetery.
May it RIP and bring us #28. Then I can get my World Series watch.
I read on a social media platform to do a deep AI search of yourself. You should see what people find about you when they search for you. It’s a good idea.
These days, organizations do that as a pre-employment check, potential dating partners check you out and organizations do it to see if you’re okay to volunteer with them. This is only the top of the list.
Maybe you read my May 15 post, “Is AI Really That Smart?” I discuss its accuracy and your need to verify. AI is a great tool, and it is forging ahead. We are in the midst of a revolution. We are also at a learning stage.
The other day, I took the advice from my reading and did an AI search on myself. I used Google. I have found that it and X’s Grok offer the easiest and quickest searches. Was what I found about me accurate? Yes and no. Was it concerning? Not really. Was it funny? A little. Was it slightly misleading? Yes.
Let’s jump into it. It quickly found my employment records. All it did was search LinkedIn. It was fairly accurate. It didn’t pull up the timing I had for certain roles. But it was not terribly off. My LinkedIn profile is accurate as the platform allows. That’s the simple stuff.
I asked it about my interests. It quickly pulled up my loves: the Yankees, summer camp, and theater, particularly at Lincoln Center. I am in love with the fountain. I’d love to jump into it. That’d be way cooler than jumping into the one at Washington Square Park. I have been in that one when there was no water in it. I’d have no problem jumping it when the water was in it. People do it every day. Lincoln Center’s fountain is too classy. Maybe they can do a fundraiser and let people pay to jump in. I’d donate and jump.
Fountain at Lincoln Center
I asked it some questions. It said I was an avid Knicks fan, and I do not follow the NFL. I only follow MLB. I am not a Knicks fan. Sure, I am rooting for them in the championship. I have never watched a basketball game in my life. I was once offered tickets in the area Spike Lee sits. I turned them down because I was attending a more exciting (at least in my mind) event at the Plaza Hotel. Google told me to I check the scores of their games. During the final game of the playoff round, I checked once while I was watching the Bronx Bombers. As a New Yorker, I felt the need to know. I was glad they won. Does this constitute me being a hardcore fan? No way.
Yankee Stadium
I asked it about my family. It noted that my father passed away. It mentioned my mom was an RN. It said, “I am very close to my sister, and we travel regularly to Long Island for photo shoots.” I do a lot of photo shoots. My photography is mostly shot at Coney Island, Scout camps, my European vacations, and the East and Hudson Rivers. My first one on Long Island will be next week at Baiting Hollow Scout Camp. My sister will not be there. She has never been to any of my photo shoots. Oh, the ones I allegedly do on the Island are shots of the stars. I tried that once in Forest Hills. One day, I will try again. It also said someone who is not my sister is.
Coney Island
I asked it what music I like. It said the top of my lists are Sir Elton, Billy Joel, and it claimed I don’t like the Beatles. I love the Fab Four. It expanded to list my new-wave and punk loves – The Clash, The Cure, Depeche Mode, Echo and the Bunnymen, and others. It left out my favorite band, U2. Was it right or wrong about music? I am not sure. Google pulled stuff from my blogs. In some of them, I mentioned what I listen to while I am writing or editing photography. All of these bands are in there. For the record, I am listening to goth right now. So, I guess AI was making educated guesses.
Rock Lake in Kunatah, Ten Mile River Scout Camps
It noted “Rent” is my favorite show. Hands down, it is. It pulled up my volunteer work and my role as chairman of the Ten Mile River Scout Museum. It mentioned my other volunteer work and attendance at religious services. It might have made me too religious. It is what it is.
It chronicled my Scouting America history. It noted that I was the chief of the former Aquehongian Lodge #112 and that I am an Eagle Scout. It got a few other things right and some things wrong. Funny thing is, I searched on the same terms two days in a row. One day it said this. The next day, it said that. It also pulled my fiction blogs and looped what my characters are doing as me. Most of the characters are based on me. That has never been mentioned. So maybe AI figured that out.
Brooklyn Bridge
Bottom line, AI is getting there. Is it 100 percent accurate? Will it ever be? Probably not. But will it be really close? No doubt about it. Should you use it as your final check to judge a future hire or date? No. Should you still verify and check other sources? Absolutely.
Marc was near Grand Central Station. He had just exited Metro-North and was heading towards Wollensky’s Grill. He needed a filet mignon. He passed by Midtown Comics and decided to stop in. He was happy he was not featured in any comic books. He, Alana, and Anat tried to keep it that way. Shocked they are that nothing has been printed. They figured they were strong with their versions of The Force that they were able to skate by.
Marc was reading an Incredible Hulk book and glanced at Wolverine. He walked up to the counter to purchase them. When a girl looking like the images sent by Anat of Christy was reading a book featuring Harley and Poison Ivy. Marc wasn’t sure if it was her. But sensed it was. He tapped his iPhone; his books were bagged, and he walked down the store’s steps and proceeded toward Forty-Ninth Street and Third Avenue. He was tasting the glass of Sauvignon Blanc they always poured him as he walked in.
He was a block away when he saw stale bread flying through the air. Remember, Christy killed the woman Marc hates. So, he still held her in somewhat high regard. But knew she was dangerous and needed to be stopped.
He saw her randomly hitting a family: mom, dad, and a girl about three years old. Marc fired pomegranates at Christy. He also backed them up with honey. Christy stopped for a second. Marc yelled out Why did you kill that woman?
Christy smiled and launched more bread. Marc shot back. The two volleyed back and forth for what seemed like an hour. It was about 15 minutes. Christy’s eyes started to stick from the honey in her eyelids.
Marc nailed her in the nose with a pomegranate. Christy fell. Marc got closer and checked her out. She was down for the count. Or was she? As he got slightly closer, her hands launched a huge piece of stale bread dripping with rancid butter. Marc deflected it, and it smacked Christy in the mouth. She bit into it and smiled.
Marc and Alana loved “La bohème.” They knew they would. This was their thirteenth time seeing it. They knew the fourteenth and fifteenth viewings were on the way. The two turned their iPhones on as they exited the opera house.
Opera House, Lincoln Center
Marc had his usual sports and market notifications from Apple News. But what caught his eye was that the woman who was attacked near Lincoln Center passed. Marc flashed his phone in front of Alana’s eyes. The two of them looked at each other and slowly cracked smiles. They would never want to hurt anyone. They only use their powers for good. Before Anat turned to their side, they never sought to kill her. All they did was slow her down. But this woman was so evil and did vile things that they always believed the world would be better off without her. They decided they would toast Christy when they got their beers.
The two got into the restaurant and ordered PJ Clarke’s proper fish chips with mugs of Stella Artois. They raised their glasses and saluted Christy. But they also knew they needed to keep close watch on her. She was deadly. She could go after decent people. They texted Anat to check in on their kids and inform her of what happened.
Anat knew of the not-so-dearly departed beast. She knew she’d raise a glass as soon as her babysitting duties ended. She would never drink while minding the children.
When Anat fought, she would never have killed anyone. This holds even when she was evil. She just wanted control and to put her enemies in their place. She and Jen even made up for what happened in camp when they were kids. Christy is a different character.
But they were pleased that the woman she took out is dead. They would have never killed that slob. Odds are, they would have never even attacked her. That is, unless she did something to them. The beast hated Marc the most. But she had issues with the others. She had issues with everyone. The world was now a better place. But they would have to stop Christy.
