Changes - Re-Edited

cut down and edited, submitting to NPR as personal essay:

This is Not the End

It happens to the best of us when we aren't paying attention to the ways of the world, while we have our heads turned daydreaming away about how we all want our lives to be perfect. Well what is the point sitting around waiting for the good stuff to fall into your lap? We got to get out there and "roll with the punches" - incredibly cliche', but also incredibly true.

Change can be EVIL. It can throw your entire life for a loop, turn your already scattered mind up mind upside down and get you just when you think you've got it all figured out. The truth is, no one EVER has it ALL figured out. If we did there would be no mystery, no surprises, good or bad for us to look forward to in this rollercoaster we like to "life." Whatever it may be, there is always a reason. There is a reason people come in and out of your life at certain times, say and do certain things or why your loved one died or why you are unhappy at your job. Whether understood or not, Change is NOT random. We might not always be able to see through the dark and stormy clouds and find the sun, but we can at least try.

Change can also be BEAUTIFUL. It can give you the opportunity to do things with yourself you never thought were possible. It can give you clarity, provide a reawakening, and give you an appreciation for something you have never had before. It can open up your eyes before it's too late. Change can save you when you need to be saved.

We all know the feeling, the complacency, the second that smile morphs into a frown on your tired face, the moment we decide we feel stuck in a place we don't want to be, that exact moment when we yearn for something better. We realize we NEED to make a change to be happy. The good news is we have the power and the ability to make any change we want. We are not restrained. We have enough control over our lives to make that change that we are desperately seeking. So what are you waiting for? Every millisecond that passes in your life is WASTED if you are sitting around waiting. So get up and get moving instead of wasting anymore of your precious time, that we were so graciously given to live on this earth. Some people don't even get the chance.

It could be a huge career change, moving across the country, ditching that horrible friend/boyfriend/girlfriend that is dragging your heart through the mud or dropping everything you know and making a brand new start. POSITIVE change, big or small is a start to a beautiful life that you COULD be living.

Go after what you want. Chase your dreams.

Do what you love, and love what you do.

Saving My Streets

The beginning of a short story....that I am currently trying to complete, loosely inspired by an article in Philly Weekly:

Saving my Streets

The name is Vinny. This is my neighborhood. It has been since my grandfathers' grandfather. My whole family grew up on this block. It's changing, but I'll never leave. You can say I'm your average kinda guy, you know "blue collar" or whatever the rich people call us. I go to work everyday at the plant, and come home every night to my wife Angela, and our two cuicci's. That's sicilian slang for "little pains in the asses." Nicky and Gianna are my world. I didn't think I could love anything that much until I looked into their baby eyes when they were born. My family, next to my friends, is the most important thing to me. I do everything I do for them.

South Philly is my home. It always will be, no matter how bad it gets. This is our block. When I was growing up, me and the boys used to hit the park after the school bus dropped us off. I remember we'd go even if it was snowing or raining, just to be kids. Mama always had the macaroni and gravy ready by 5, homemade bread and all. I'd run home by 5, eat my supper, do my homework and go to sleep. I loved being a kid. I'm still a big kid, and my boys are still my boys. The days were simpler then. I miss those days. Nicky and Gianna will never know days like that.

Tony and Patrick grew up down the block from me and are still my best friends. You know, the kind of friends that would take a bullet for you. Those kinda friends are hard to find. We aren't wiseguys. That's an insult cause we are hard working guys. Plus, we keep our neighborhood together. Tony likes to act like a big tough guy, but inside he is just a big old teddy bear. Patrick ain't even Italian, he's an Irish lad, as ginger as can be. But we gotta love him anyway. They all got kids and wives too. You might want to call us, the protectors of the street, since the whole old neighborhood does. We like to keep things straight and safe round' here. Things have gotten so bad since we freely roamed these streets. We all get our kids now from the bus stop and walk them home.

Every Friday night, Tony and Patrick usually come over to my place, we play some cards, throw back a few lagers, and just BS about our weeks. Saturday mornings, we take our boys to the park for little league practice. Last Friday was not the usual. I remember we were sitting outside cause it was a nice night, cool and breezy. Tony heard some yelling and screaming down at the one corner. The corner that we don't let our kids walk by anymore. That's where some of those crackhead guys hang out. We don't bother them, and they know not to bother us. Tony, you know the tough guy, said he's gonna walk down there and check it out. Patrick, of course, told him to "leave it alone man." I remember the look of rage on his face as he walked away. Our neighborhood hasn't been the same since the drugs showed up, and Tony was the first to take care of things like this. It used to be peaceful here. Kids playing on the street all night long, running in the fire hydrant in the summertime and all the adults sitting outside eating and talking. You know, like a real community should.

Tony walked right up to this big group of guys lead by the little punk with the big mouth. Tony had no fear. They were all screaming and cursing their heads off like crazies. Patrick and I stayed back and hoped for the best. I could hear them yelling about missing drug money or something like that. Then I heard Tony say to take it somewhere else, and get off our corner, cause our wives and kids were sleeping. I heard the gun shots. I ran. I saw Tony fall to the ground. I saw those crackheads scream bloody murder and scatter away fast. I watched Tony die that night in my arms. I held him tight. I cried. My heart hurt and the rest of me was furious. The cops and the hospital people came way too late. It was that night that I decided to take matters into my own two hands.

Kiss me Pink

A very short descriptive essay based on a color that evoked emotions

Kiss Me Pink.

I am the striking color of his lips after he passionately kisses you. I am the slight hue of your sweet blushing cheeks when he gazes into your eyes and adoringly says how beautiful you are. When he holds you close in a tight longing grasp, I am left on your back in the formation of caring handprints. When you hold his hand, I peek out from your strong grip as the color on your freshly manicured nails. I am the light blotch on your pale white neck after he gently rests his head on your shoulder, sending chills up your spine. You admired my brightness on the blooming flowers of summertime when you walked up the hill together. You stopped to smell me, and I tickled your nose by surprise. I am the glimmering tint of the girly lip gloss on your mouth when a smile adorns your face as you catch him endlessly gazing at you. Unfortunately, I appear in the whiteness when it is time to part ways and tears well up in your eyes. Your once colorless heart finally begins to radiate brightly from your chest with my abundant presence. I am the intense shade of a budding romance, of a breathtaking kiss and the amorous thoughts that are conquering your mind.

They Called it a Near Miss

a very short story:

They Called it a Near Miss

They called it a near miss, but I called it fate. As an innocent bystander, I fled to the tragic scene that I witnessed unfold so quickly before my shocked eyes. At first I thought I was daydreaming, or re-enacting an action sequence from a movie in my groggy head. It was the early morning rush and I was making my way to the train station. My walk was usually uneventful, just the hustle and bustle of people trying to get into the city.

That morning was entirely eventful in a most horrid way. As I walked across the train bridge, I heard the most excruciating sound of crashing metal and glass that pounded my eardrums. People stopped walking instantly in their tracks, eyes wide open. I was positive I had just witnessed death first hand.
My first instinct was to run as fast as I could to the small silver demolished car. This car was hit hard, pushed over 40 feet, twisted around, crushed in every way possible, and landed up over a curb onto a grassy hill. As I ran I thought to myself there is no way the driver could have survived. The other driver was already out of his car dialing emergency services. I managed to get into the passenger side of the vehicle, only to find a most frightened, but breathing, young woman, who most likely just saw her life flash before her eyes. She was crying. She was shaking. She was choking on her own blood. She was alive.

"Honey, if you can understand me, the ambulance is on the way, you are going to be alright," I said in hopes of providing some comfort. She was silent, but looked at me with the most frightened eyes I had ever seen. I held her hand. The paramedics and firefighters arrived quickly. They politely asked me to get out of the car, so they could cut her out. I said goodbye and prayed for her.

The paramedic asked me if I knew the victim, I said no. "Well, that was a darn near miss, she is lucky be alive!" As I sat on the train on my way to work that morning, I realized it was fate that kept that girl alive, something or someone didn't want her to leave this earth yet.