Depeche Mode – Mitchell's thoughts, photos, etc.

They Regroup

They Regroup

Anat headed back to her Upper East penthouse. Alana and Marc jumped into Alana’s Infiniti and drove upstate with Lebanon Hanover, Strawberry Switchblade, and the Sisters of Mercy blasting. They had been listening to some of the newer darkwave but needed to remain faithful to their origins. That’s why they added the Sisters. How could you not?

They got to closed-off areas of Marc’s holy camp. The two of them jumped into the lake. They were proud of themselves. They knew Christy A. and Jay weren’t done. Severely weakened they were. It was only a matter of time before they were taken out and cast away. They got out of the lake and heard ZZ Top pumping on their random mix. Eclectic the two of them are.

Marc built a fire in his favorite spot. Unfortunately, his sleeping quarters were destroyed by a man who called himself a professional. There was nothing professional about him. One day Marc would take him out. That was easy pickings. One or two pomegranates’ tops. But he’d toss in some barley to make it hurt more.

Other than their music mix, all was quiet. The two held hands and smiled. Their lips locked. They were happy Marc’s mom was taking care of Sarah and Benjamin David. They hoped they behaved and didn’t use their powers. Marc’s and Alana’s parents had no idea who their kids really were. They wanted to keep it that way. Anat hasn’t spoken to her parents in years and had no care what they knew. She still mourned her grandmother.

Darkness settled in. The only light was the fire and the half-moon. The two were sipping Genny Cream Ale and munching on Freihofer’s chocolate chip cookies. Their mix was still playing. Tunes from the Beatles, Damned, Stranglers, Velvet Underground and more played on. Marc and Alana were in each other’s arms.

All of a sudden, the woods got totally silent. All of the animals that were stirring around were quiet. The fire’s blaze grew. Marc knew what this meant. He heard the herd of buffalo and knew the Woodsman was enroute.

As hard as it was for the two of them, Alana and Marc let go of each other. They had to get ready for a higher calling. They slightly lowered their music. The Woodsman got off the lead buffalo and sat down by the fire. His eyes gazed at the two lovebirds. He opened a beer.

A few sips in, he said, “I know what the two of you and Anat did on Staten Island. I do approve. But be patient.” Alana and Marc smiled. The Woodsman continued, “Jay and Christy A. are down. They will try to get their strength back. Be mindful and careful, and you will complete your work.” He finished his Genny and rode off with his herd.

Asking Celebs Dumb Questions

Do You Ever Wonder What They Think?

I know many celebrity-obsessed people. Many want to meet them. I have a friend who regularly sends me info about the signing events athletes do. He’s never gone and never will. He’s dying to meet them and the actors who play superheroes. Toss in the writers and artists that work on the comic books.

I have dated women who have their crushes. One told me the first day we met she was in love with Harrison Ford and Paul O’Neill. Nothing better than Han Solo, Indy, and the best right fielder and intense player the Yankees had in many years. No one will replace Paul. I’d take him in RF and the clutch hitting situation over just about anyone. One was in love with Eddie Vedder and Johnny Depp: another Sting and Geddy Lee. The best of them dreamed of Roger Taylor and Simon Le Bon. She was the best dressed, classiest, prettiest, and smartest of all I dated. She could have been the girl on film.

I have my crushes. Those that know me know who they are. Last year, I was at Yankee Stadium for Old-Timers Day, and Jack Curry was walking into the Stadium. He shook hands and snapped pictures with many of us. I referenced some of his books in our brief conversation. He told me he has another coming out. I sent the image to my friend. He was jealous.

In 2012, as part of the Times Talks, I saw Yoko (Ono), where she discussed the movie “Imagine.” At the end of the event, I went up to the stage and got to hang with her for a few minutes. She’s super nice.

People asked her fairly normal questions, such as what type of music do you think John (Lennon) would have liked these days. She said he would have loved hip hop because he was obsessed with fast-moving wordplay.

About two years ago, Chris Stein released a book about his work in Blondie. I attended. Blondie was one of the first bands I liked, and I remember when my grandmother, a religious woman, took me to TSS in Queens to buy the band’s cassettes. I think I also got music from the Ramones. I have some interesting stories to tell about them. Maybe one day. Or not.

I can still picture this shopping event. I was about six. The cashier was curly-haired, about 17, and wore glasses with a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. He asked what I wanted. She said he wanted Blondie. I got my tape. I wonder what the kid behind the counter thought about a six-year-old with his religious grandmother buying punk? Probably nothing. It was a sale, and he likely wanted to go home, listen to Plant and Page and have a beer.

Deborah (Harry) accompanied Stein at an event held at his alma mater, SVA. The two spoke about their times at CBGBs and the assortment of characters they hung with, including the Ramones, Lou (Reed), Television, Iggy (Pop) and club owner Hilly (Kristal). They opened it up for questions. People asked about Iggy and the scene. Then came the “brainy” question. The person said he was an electrician and asked, “Do you remember maybe in 1975, when the two of you lived in your Bowery loft, and I came to fix an electrical issue and had to look in a closet?” Deborah and Chris just looked at him and said something.

A few weeks ago, I saw Lenny Kaye at City Winery’s Loft. Lenny spoke about Patti (Smith), Joey (Ramone) Lou and Hilly during his time at CBGBs. The Q&A started. Someone asked Lenny if he remembers meeting him and shaking his hand outside a club in 1976. Lenny said something along the lines of I have met so many people.

A week or so before Kaye’s event, Ann Wilson did a Q&A at City Winery. People asked similar questions. I wonder what they think when people ask these questions? Only twice did I ever ask questions.

I think they were normal. At a CD signing at the former Tower Records on 8th Street, I asked Depeche Mode if they could play songs from a specific album at their upcoming show at the Garden. Martin said, “Maybe.” The songs I wanted were ones they usually don’t perform. About two years ago, they did play them at the Garden. Maybe they had me in mind from 2002. Not.

At the 92Y in the early 2000s after Idina Menzel spoke, I was in line to get her signature on her new CD. This was post “Rent” and before “Frozen.” I asked her what her favorite “Rent” songs were. She mentioned a few that were not hers.

I am sure I will be at more Q&As. I cannot wait to hear the questions.

I Can’t Sing. I Will Never Pretend I Can

Years ago, I was in Durham and on the phone with my dad. I let him know I landed and was at my hotel. Even at my age, I have to let my parents know where I am. Sadly, my dad’s been gone for over a decade. Maybe he knows.

Anyway, I said, “You know I used to sound like John Lennon. Now I sound like Paul McCartney.” He retorted, “You make all the young girls cry.” He didn’t mean I sing like Barry Manilow. He meant my voice would make anyone cry. He’s right.

Sure, I wish I had the voice of Bono, Ian Curtis, David Gahan, Peter Murphy, Robert Smith, or the Moz. Oh, and the two Beatles I mentioned. They were gifted. There are many others in my boat. Far too many. But sadly, some of them think they can sing. I attend many events where we sing by the campfire or as part of our religious services. There was a guy there who used to like to sing and dance. He often said he was shocked that people didn’t recruit him from Lincoln Center to sing at the opera house or in the other theaters.

What do I do? I sing along or use their time up there as the time for a bathroom break. Some of them sing fast. Some drag it out. What should take 3-5 minutes turns into 45 minutes. That’s a lot of time in the bathroom. But it also gives you time to run over to the kitchen and get tea.

But then there are the personalities. The opera star had none. Some of the others are wonderful people. Some retired. Some working. They mean well. They want to sing. I still want to pitch for the Yankees. I blame my mother for never signing with the Bronx Bombers. That’s really a joke. Steinbrenner would have never signed me. Rightfully so. But these days, I might play and be better than whom Hal and Cash have signed.

How do I pick which “concert” I attend? There are places I go where those leading can carry a tune. But they are not friendly. In some cases, they are downright nasty and mean. I used to alternate. I recently decided I’d rather let my ears suffer with poor singing, as opposed to suffering unfriendliness.

Nostalgia

How Music is the Driving Force

Over the last few weeks, I saw performances by Paul Simon at Forest Hills Tennis, Bon Jovi at the Garden and Joe Jackson at the Beacon. Future shows include Squeeze at Radio City Music Hall, David Byrne at Forest Hills Tennis, Sting at Brooklyn Paramount and Belinda Carlisle at Palladium Times Square. I hope to see more. I do have a few Yankees-Red Sox games on tap.

All brought back memories. Or, as my mom said, nostalgia. Bon Jovi’s on-stage commentary put it best. He said, let’s party like it’s 1999. We all know Prince, whom, sadly, I never saw did that. Bon Jovi said Let’s go back to 1986. He references when his hair was a little fuller and his jeans were tighter. He continued, saying that all of you listening to me now were much younger back in the day. Probably all in high school and now we’re older.

As I listened to him, I was blasted back to my high school job at the Greenridge Plaza McDonald’s and when we closed the store. We all brought cassettes to put into the boombox to blast while we cleaned up. Remember cassettes and boomboxes? We had one of our managers, Uncle Dave, or Disco Dave, with his choices. Others had their choices. We used to fight over what we’d listen to. We heard a wild mix of Bon Jovi, the Cure, David Bowie, Cinderella, Depeche Mode, Genesis, Guns & Roses, Love & Rockets, Madonna, Mötley Crüe, Poison, U2, Van Halen and Wham. I liked most of it. Couldn’t stand and still can’t Cinderella, Mötley Crüe, Poison and Van Halen. Plenty of other acts made our playlists. They were either on mixed tapes, or albums that we pulled in and out of the boombox. We did not have the luxury of Apple Music.

Hearing Bon Jovi pushed me back to those days. I had visions of us in our uniforms scrubbing the grills, sweeping and mopping the floors. It made me think of the times we hung out in the parking lot after we closed. In our cars, we played what we wanted. In front of the stores, some of us had beer. Not me. I did nothing. That’s usually the case.

As for Paul Simon, I wasn’t around for Simon & Garfunkel’s heyday. I did see their reunion tour in the 2000s. I have seen Simon solo a few times and saw Art Garfunkel once at the original City Winery on Varick Street. As Simon played songs from the “Graceland” album, it reminded me of being driven to Scout trips, particularly our winter ski trip—my first- and only-time skiing. I did not do well.

It also reminded me of when I played music all night and kept my sister up in the next room. I made mixes. Most of the new wave and goth bands. But had to include the classic rock tunes. Elton John, Billy Joel, and the Beatles made the cut. Billy Joel was my first concert. I called in sick when I was supposed to close McDonald’s. I got to the former Brendan Byrne Arena with my family. Seated a few rows behind me were several of my coworkers. No one said a word about my illness.

I constantly listen to the Cure. Many times, I flash back to what was perhaps my first date, seeing them with the Pixies and Love & Rockets. We were too young to buy beer. Not that would have as I was driving. We had M&M’s at Giants Stadium.

All of the other bands mentioned do something similar. People who knew me in college often say they remember my Cure and Depeche Mode posters hanging on my dorm room wall. Sid Vicious hung on my room’s wall at home.

Good music, particularly the best generation of music ever, the 80s, is the driving force of keeping things going.

Keys

We All Carry Keys – Are they the Keys to One’s Heart, Memories, Your Residence or Car?

When you think of keys, the first that probably comes to mind are keys to your house or apartment. Maybe for those of us who own cars, you think of your car keys. Of course, these days cars and many homes open electronically.

Perhaps you think of the keys to opening the heart of the woman you like, and she’d date you. I doubt you think of the character Keys, played by Peter Coyote in “E.T. – The Extra Terrestrial.” There are better characters to think of, such as Gertie.

I would think we all own a few sets of house keys in our lifetime. I remember when I got my first set of keys. I was about 8 or 9, and they were for the house my parents, sister, and I lived in on Staten Island. Eventually, I got the car keys to my first car. It was my father’s Caddy. It became mine. I loved that vehicle. It was fun to cruise Staten Island while playing the Cure or Depeche Mode. When I took it to college, it was easy to make friends when you were on campus with a car. I drove everyone around. I played the same music.

I got residence hall and off-campus apartment keys at SUNY-New Paltz, and eventually keys to the apartments I rented and the one I now own. I own it. But currently, the bank owns me. Soon enough, it won’t.

Years ago, after my father died, I had the keys to his Plant City, Fla., home. I sold it. The keys are gone. I don’t have the keys to my mom’s house anymore. I used to for many years after I moved out. Eventually, she got new doors that required different locks. At one point, I had the keys to my sister’s first apartment. We basically lived next to each other. Nor do I have the keys to my prior dwellings. Why would I keep them? They wouldn’t open any doors.

In addition to the Caddy, I have had two Nissan Sentras. I remember selling the third one. I still have one of the keys. Why? I have no idea. I doubt the car is still running. It was 2002. But maybe. I kept my second car from 1992 to 2002. It was in six figures in mileage.

There are the keys to opening the hearts of the people I like. Those keys do not fit the lock—nothing more to say.

I remember when my grandmother gave me the keys to her Brooklyn apartment. She kept giving me sets of keys. Eventually, one of the sets worked. She told me one might have been my grandfather’s set. He’s been gone for a while. Too long. One might have been the set she gave to a friend, and the list goes on. Eventually, I got the keys to her building and apartment.

Of course, half the time I visited her, I never remembered them. I had to call her when I got there to be buzzed in. She can’t really hear. So, I had to call a few times. A few weeks ago, she went into the home (nursing home). She is now 99 years old. I’ve visited. It is hard to see her there. My mom, my aunt, and my uncle cleaned out her apartment. It was a rent-stabilized unit. She’s been there since before I was born. I figure the building will put it on the market. When the apartment was empty, my mom returned the keys to the super. My sets are in my kitchen—doubt they’d open the door anymore. Weeks ago, while she was still living there and we knew she was leaving, I mentioned to my mom that I guess I could toss the keys into the incinerator. She said not yet. Sadly, I think the time has come. But still holding on to them.

While I may no longer have the physical keys to my cars, dwellings, or whomever it is I like, I will always carry the vaulted memories of what they opened or could have opened.

What Does the Venue Think?

By Mitchell Slepian

Last night, I saw Paul Simon at the Forest Hills Tennis Stadium. A few days ago, I was at Yankee Stadium. Just before that, I saw Lenny Kaye in the Loft at City Winery, Human League with Soft Cell and Alison Moyet at Radio City Music Hall, and Kim Deal at Pier 17. Future shows will be at the Beacon and Garden. Speaking of the Garden, we all know Taylor Swift married there on July 3.

Paul Simon at Forest Hills Tennis Stadium

All shows brought their expected crowds. We had the aging hippies, the artsy and all-black-wearing new wave and goth crowds, and, of course, those of us decked out from head to toe in our NY Yankees apparel. It didn’t help. They embarrassed themselves by allowing the Twins to pound them. Seems to be a trend. George and the Stick must be rolling around in their graves.

Many of us have felt the Garden shake during performances by The Who or felt connected to Bono. We’ve come to a new understanding of the world while listening to the top-notch songwriting and skills of the Cure and Depeche Mode. We ached that Siouxsie Sioux only did a few shows and did not come to NYC.

But did you ever wonder what the arena feels like? We know what the Stadium feels. It wants the Yankees to bring home that trophy. It’s been far too long. Sure, these venues are concrete and steel. But do they have feelings? Do they have a sense of what’s happening inside them? Does the Garden ever say to Radio City Music Hall, I wish the Human League were on my stage? I doubt the Stadium talks to Fenway Park. They hate each other. Or maybe they complain about the fans or certain players?

Forest Hills Tennis must have been happy to have its local Forest Hills High School boy, Paul Simon, performing at its arena. Although the schoolyard in “Me and Julio Down by the Schoolyard” is never officially named. Per the lyrics, it is in Corona. I have been to the schoolyards; it is believed to be. As I was listening to him perform it, I wondered how many people in the venue had ever traveled to the yards he meant. What does that schoolyard think?

Do the venues have favorite artists? Do they prefer the classic rock, goth, or pop crowds? Does it give off feelings that enhance or hurt the show? Does it get excited when one band does three or four nights? I saw Billy Joel’s residency at Madison Square Garden a few times. Does the Garden kick back into Billy’s coming tonight, and will we have his awesome crows? What does it think when Robert Smith takes the stage with the Cure, and they play in darkness vs. the more top 40 shows that light up the place? Does it prefer bands that really honed their craft to those that are marketing projects created to sell tickets and push downloads? Maybe I need to ask it. It might laugh at me. Or whisper back its thoughts.

What Does AI Really Know About You?

How Accurate Is It?

By Mitchell Slepian

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

New York, New York, or the Middle of the Desert

You can be Isolated and in the Midst of It All – Get the Balance Right

By Mitchell Slepian

World’s Fair Globe, Flushing Meadows–Corona Park

No, I am not writing about Ol’ Blue Eyes. Or quoting from Depeche Mode. (But I do want to hear his version of “New York, New York” played after every game at Yankee Stadium during 2026). The Big Apple is one of the world’s most photogenic cities. Yes, there are plenty of others, for example, Belfast, Jerusalem, Moscow, Milan, Reykjavik and Tel Aviv. What I love about New York City is that nowhere else can you find Broadway, the Brooklyn Bridge, Coney Island, the East and Hudson Rivers, the Staten Island Ferry, Yankee Stadium, and the World’s Fair Globe. And more. Much more.

Cell Tower Outside Brooklyn Botanic Garden

New York offers places where you can feel the big-city madness. Or areas where you can feel the quiet and almost feel isolation. When I say isolation, I do not mean the Joy Division tune. I am thinking about being at the Brooklyn (BBG) or New York Botanic Gardens, William H. Pouch Scout Camp, or just being in your own world while cruising along Museum Mile. NYC offers isolation and madness.

The joy of being in the “isolation”(Joy Division was running through my head) of NYC, or let’s be honest, any other major city, is the things that pop up on your travels. As I was walking through the Fall Harbor Fest at BBG, I looked up and saw a cell tower. A few feet away, I watched a squirrel around some dying flowers. It’s that time of year. Next to the flowers was a trash can. I remember seeing cell towers driving through Death Valley and along the Italian lakes.

Let’s face they are everywhere. We cannot survive without our Wi-Fi. In many ways, seeing them and the trash cans keeps it in perspective. You can enjoy your isolation or privacy. But know you are when you are in the middle of beautiful gardens or national parks and communing with nature, you can easily text your friends, check the baseball scores, or listen to Depeche Mode on Apple Music on your iPhone. And toss out your trash. NYC provides the perfect place to do it all. It’s just important to remember to stay balanced in your adventures and take it all in.

The Drop on the Cyclone, Luna Park, Brooklyn, NY

100 Years or Goodbye Yellow Brick Road

Does Music Make a Difference When Shooting and Editing Photos?

By Mitchell Slepian

Hello, readers. As my regulars are aware, ninety-nine percent of the time, the images in my stories have been shot and edited with my Nikon camera. As Paul Simon sings, I like to take photographs. My Kodachrome sits on a table next to an old Nikon that was a workhorse and is now out of commission.

Sheepshead Bay by Emmons Avenue – Edited to Sir Elton

When shooting and editing, I always have songs in my head. One of my all-time favorite songs is “100 Years,” the opening track on The Cure’s “Pornography” album. It might be the darkest, most goth album of all time. I listen to it nonstop. Here’s a taste of Robert Smith’s (The Cure’s founder, lead singer, and possibly the best songwriter ever) lyrics. “It doesn’t matter if we all die. Ambition in the back of a black car.” I listen to lots of other great artists. Some are happier than The Cure. Of course, some are just as dark. Here’s a partial mix: Bauhaus, David Bowie, Billy Joel, Depeche Mode, Erasure, Sir Elton John, Joy Division, John Lennon (probably the best musician of all time), Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, The Psychedelic Furs, The Smiths, Siouxsie and the Banshees, U2 and The Who. And the list goes on.

It’s not unusual for me to have some of these lyrics floating through my brain when I’m shooting. “Confusion in her eyes that says it all. She’s lost control. And she’s clinging to the nearest passerby.” – “She’s out of Control,” Joy Division “Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her. Slashed her wrists, bored with life. Didn’t succeed, thank the Lord.” – “Blasphemous Rumors” – Depeche Mode “Back to the howling old owls. Hunting the horny back toad” – “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” – Sir Elton and “Before you cross the street. Take my hand. Life is what happens to you. While you’re busy making other plans” – “Beautiful Boy” – John Lennon. He always nailed it. They all do.

One can be sure the songs in my head while I am shooting affect how they are taken. I might adjust the ISO and F-stop based on how I am feeling. In case you were wondering, I do not listen to music on my iPhone. I hate headphones. I used to wear my Walkman’s headphones slightly above or below my ears. Sometimes I still do that with headphones when I am Zooming or watching things on YouTube. Songs always go through my head. It gets me through the days. Or as Robert Smith says, “In Between Days.” That’s on the “Head on the Door” album.

Bees Fetching Honey – Edited to the Cure

The other day, I was editing some images from Emmons Avenue, Sheepshead Bay and the New York Botanical Garden while listening to Sir Elton. Then I switched to a mix of The Cure, Echo and the Bunnymen, Erasure, and Psychedelic Furs, Siouxie and the Banshees. Erasure brings back memories of camp. The Cure, Erasure, and the Furs bring back old memories of dating and driving around in my old Caddy with the girls I liked. We usually listened to those bands. My first date was to see The Cure with Love & Rockets and the Pixies as the openers. We were too young to buy beer. We shared M&M’s. I still think about all of this when certain songs play.

Look at the images and see if you can tell the difference. This was written and edited to Led Zep’s “How the West Was Won.” With final touches while listening The latest from The Cure: “Songs of a Lost World.”

My Childhood Home was Destroyed

I am Sitting Shiva for My Leanto

By Mitchell Slepian

Me by my leanto at the bottom of Chappegat Hill

For those of us who never attended Ten Mile River Scout Camps (TMR) or perhaps hiked or camped along the New York State’s Adirondack and Catskill Mountains, along the Finger Lakes Trail, and other parks like Harriman State Park, you might not know what a leanto is. Let me explain. A leanto is a three-walled structure used for sleeping. The front of it is open. You can build a small deck on its front and add screening. You wanna keep the bugs out. But bug juice (a camp drink) is fine.

That’s what I lived during my teen years on Chappegat (Chappy) Hill, TMR. Mine had a deck, screening and electricity. It had fridge stocked with Cherikee Red (A now-discontinued super sugary red soda), other soda, etc. We had boxes of Freihofers chocolate chip cookies and home-baked cookies from Noni (my grandmother). I shared it with my camp friend. Many people crashed in it. Some crashed every night.

The inside and outside of my leanto (1988)

We played Risk, ate food from El Monaco’s (Now closed), McDonald’s, and I kept my Frosted Flakes there. I rarely ate the lish (delicious) meals prepared in the Kunatah Dining Hall. May it stand forever. We played music on Bertha. She was the boom box that one of our crashers brought up to TMR. It was a double-deck cassette player with a CD player on top. Remember those? U2 (My bunkmate hated them. Right now, I have mixed opinions on the band I worshipped all my life.), Steely Dan (My bunkmate loved them), The Clash, Depeche Mode, David Bowie, The Rolling Stones, Sex Pistols, The Beatles, The Who, Mojo Nixon, Jethro Tull, Squeeze, The Ramones, XTC, and, unfortunately, Pink Floyd played 24/7.

Camp was the time of my life. I looked forward to it all year. I remember riding around in the “WhoMobile “(A 1966 F-85, A basic version of an Oldsmobile Cutlass). Sometimes the camp staff drove it. I remember when Kousin Keety (Keith) got his license, and we would ride around listening to “Rock Lobster” by the B-52’s. That’s the only song he had on the tape. We just kept playing it.

I drove the “Truckster” (A 1976 blue Cutlass station wagon). I cranked Depeche and U2. Joey cranked Judas Priest and Metallica. Larry, our assistant scoutmaster, would, in his good nature, make fun of us teens and our music. We would drive him around to Peck’s Supermarket (Now Pete’s), the hardware store, and other places to go shopping for camp. And of course, until we lost him, he teased me about my famous episode of getting lost in Hawley, PA, a Wayne County, Pennsylvania, borough along the Lackawaxen River.

We all had fun canoeing down the Delaware River and swimming in the Ten Mile River. Most of us earned many merit badges. There was special list for those who did not earn badges. I never slept. On my first morning in camp, about an hour before wake-up time, I was sitting at a picnic table by the Palace (our office), staring at the black rattle snake in the fish tank. Larry was walking from the willy (latrine) where he may have come from the shower and asked me what I was doing. I said, I don’t sleep. He decided I was the Chappy vampire. Quickly, everyone knew. They still call me Dracula. It’s cool, unlike Bela Legosi, who’s dead. I am flying around.

We had action-packed days. But eventually, some people needed to sleep. So, we retired to our leantos. Chappy closed after the summer of ’88. It should have never closed. That’s another story. My leanto was at the top of the hill. To get to the top, you climbed muddy steps.

After Chappy closed, my leanto was moved to the bottom of the hill. I slept in it during Alumni Weekend of 2009. I visited it on every alumni weekend. The grounds of Chappy were part of the Rock Lake Camps (D1 Kothke, D2 Chappy, D3 Kunatah, and D4 Ihpetonga). Sadly, that section is in the process of being sold. Much of what was there was destroyed, my leanto was marked, “NOT TO BE DESTROYED.”

I am chair of the Ten Mile River Scout (TMR) Museum, located at TMR’s HQ. At our facility, we have the Dr. Karl E. Bernstein (My camp hero) Cayuga/Kotohke Cabin, a willy (Sadly it is not operational), and the former Kunatah Trading Post, which will soon be the Hal Rosenfeld Museum Annex. My leanto was supposed to be moved to the museum. A week or so ago, one of our trustees cleared the area where it was situated and got it ready to be moved. He went up a few days later with his friend to haul it over. As soon as he arrived, he saw that a machine had crushed it. There’s nothing left. My name and other names had been scribbled all over it when it was alive. When I heard, part of me died. To all my camp friends, remember the trails you hiked and the lakes you jumped into. You never know when they may be taken from you. I am sitting shiva. You’re welcome to join me.