The Old Man And The Chair

Autumn, 2022

I was working in the hardware store the other day when a fragile gentleman entered the place. He was older than me and probably well into his 70s. He was by himself and wore a long blue overcoat. I noticed that he was moving slowly and suffering from kyphosis.

I was already on the floor assisting another customer so he was helped by one of my coworkers.

One of the things I notice about working at the hardware store is the number of older people that come in with things they’re repairing or replacing in their homes.

At 60 years old, I think about my own retirement in a few years when I see these folks. I always think about how I probably won’t worry about these sorts of things when I’m older. (I don’t worry about them now!) I ask myself why would these older people waste their time worrying about all of these small items and fixes in their homes? Shouldn’t they just be enjoying life and their retirement? Shouldn’t they be embracing their twilight years instead of worrying about lightbulbs, caulk, paint, stain, and other small projects?

I don’t get it. I picture myself in old age, building little plastic car models and giving them as gifts to friends. Playing my guitar and writing songs, and maybe jamming with a few other old geezers. Maybe renting a car and going on cool road trips around the country. Writing new stories for my blog and documenting my travels in it. Composing new stories for books I want to publish. Bigger picture, quality of life subjects. Not worrying about a bunch of little fixes around my house.

I mentioned this to my older sister and she gave me a good explanation. She said that by the older people taking care of all of these little projects and fixes around their homes, they’re keeping themselves busy. Rather than sitting in a chair with nothing to do in their retirement, they were keeping their minds and hands busy with these projects. It was giving them something to do each day. It gave them a reason to get up, get dressed, and go out of the house. It gave them purpose and filled their time. They enjoyed getting out of the house and talking to people and working on their stuff.

It made sense to me and was a solid explanation, but I thought there might be more to it than that. I also thought that maybe these people have gathered wealth, raised their families, completed their time in the workforce, and had nothing else better to do with their lives in retirement. Maybe they weren’t as gifted as I was. A person who could make art, write stories, play a musical instrument, and have a never-ending need to constantly create.

That bit seemed a little selfish and ignorant on my part. I don’t want to be self-absorbed or judge other people. For the most part, the world is filled with simply average people. There are only an extraordinary few. I am barely one of that elite club. I’m a hack at best, born with some natural abilities that are gifts to be shared with others if they’ll appreciate them. They’re only valuable if you don’t squander them.

My sister was right about her assessment of these older folks. That had to be it, and there wasn’t anything else. Just people with too much time on their hands each day who wanted to stay busy. Their friends and family were slowly dying off. Their kids were long raised and off living their own lives. Their time in the workforce has been over for decades. They were living comfortably financially and had no more battles to win.

When I used to go to a place called Rachael’s for breakfast there was an old guy who came in each day. He traveled around with the use of a walker and came in each day and sat in the same seat doing his thing.

I asked the owner at the time what his deal was, and he said that the guy lived in a building upon JFK blvd and came in every day. I thought it seemed like a hassle to have to struggle along with a walker each day to come down to Rachael’s.

He said that the guy came in daily, ordered the same thing, and then sat in his favorite spot and went through his mail and bills. It gave him a reason to get out of the house, be a little social, and just be anywhere but alone in his apartment. It gave his retired life some purpose. It simply kept him going despite his declining health and mobility.

This sounded like what my sister had stated to me when I told her about the senior citizens at the hardware store. So she must be right about that. I mean, I don’t think I’d do that in my old age, but it’s rapidly approaching every year that passes in my life.

Death is inevitable for all of us. Rich or poor, the reaper will come for every one of us. Everybody has to die, but it all depends on how you lived your life while you were here. But what does it all mean? Why do we live and do all of these things, and gather all of this stuff that needs maintenance only to know that we’ll have to leave at some point, and can’t take any of it with us? What’s the point of it all?

Anyway, I finished with my customer in the store and went to help out at the counter. I saw the old man with the bent back chatting with my coworker about a product he was about to purchase.

It was a little four-pack of tiny plastic coasters that are affixed to the bottom of chair legs so they don’t scratch your nice hardwood floors. He had one in his knarled hand that had come out of the leg of one of his chairs. It was a well-worn plastic cap with a rubber washer on a nail. After years of movement, the nail had become loose and slipped out of the chair leg.

The little four-pack had the very same product that he needed, but the man said the nails looked a little too thin. My coworker suggested that maybe he use a bigger screw or place a piece of a toothpick in the existing hole to tighten it up a bit to accommodate the new nail.

I was watching all of this and stated that maybe a dab of wood glue in the hole along with the toothpick shim could secure it. If the replacement ever wore down it would be pretty easy to remove and replace.

But I still thought to myself, why does this guy care what happens to his floor at this stage of his life? Who cares if the floor gets scratched. Doesn’t he have anything better to do? Why is he worried about this small thing at all?

But these thoughts brought me back to what my sister had said, but my thoughts went a bit further. Here’s this old guy trying to fix a chair in his house. He’ll be dead in probably the next 5 to 10 years and that chair will still be standing. He’ll be dead and gone. Disintegrating into nothing in the ground or already turned to ashes by a loved one. He’ll be gone, and this chair he’s trying to fix will still be standing here on earth. What’s the point, man?

Shouldn’t you be doing anything else? Don’t worry about the chair. You should be enjoying the day and feeling the sunshine on your face before it sets for the last time in your life. Enjoy what little time you have left.

But then it hit me.

This old man has spent his life working and fixing things. Being a presence in his spouse and children’s lives. He wants to fix this chair because he knows this chair is going to be around long after he’s gone.

Maybe that’s our purpose in life.

If something’s broken, needs to be fixed, or simply needs help, it’s our mission in life to do something to make it better. To make it whole again, or at the very least to make it feel better.

Maybe we’re here and have our lives not to accumulate wealth, stature, and stuff, but to care and maintain the things and people around us for when we’re no longer here. Doing things that make the world a little better while we’re here so that our existence left some sort of positive mark on the next generation.

It’s not about the chair. It could be another person. It could be a child. Taking the time to try to fix things and make them better is why we’re here. To make life better for the people around us for when we’re long gone.

Like the broken chair, if he works to try to help it stand strong, he knows it’ll serve others better in the future. He’ll be gone, but he’s making sure the things around him are better. The chair will still be standing strong when he can no longer stand.

No matter how old you are, while you’re here you should try to make things around you better because you’re able. Those things and people will still be in the world after you’re gone, and maybe they’ll be better. Which will make the world just a little bit better thanks to you.

You can do this in your daily life. Do right by other people and raise your children correctly. Download all of your good data into their heads. Work out your weaknesses and failures. Become a better person, and work on yourself every day.  Help other people who need it.

Because one day you’ll be gone, and the world will go on spinning without you. Do the right things now so the generations of tomorrow can continue to thrive and go forward. Maybe that’s our purpose for being here. We’re all going to die. But we can have a positive effect on those around us to make the world and its people a better place for tomorrow, even though we all have to someday leave the party forever.

Do what you can to make the chairs around you stand strong and steady on their own when you’re long gone. Because that chair could be a friend or a family member. But if you help make them strong and stable, they can offer repose to someone else who may need to someday take a seat.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please like, comment, share, and most of all, follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

The Paragon – Chapter 9 – Lightning Strikes

The final chapter!

I couldn’t stop thinking about the Eko guitar over the weekend. That’s a good sign. I’ve got the feeling. I just hope it’s real and I do what I planned to do with my music going forward.

It was time to prepare for the arrival of her imminence. I went on Amazon and looked up a few items. I wanted to get a few things in preparation for her arrival so it would be a seamless transition from the store to my house. I wasn’t only thinking about the Eko I needed to take care of the Iceman too.

I figured if I had finally decided to cheat on my wife, (the Iceman) I should at least get her a nice gift to say I’m sorry and haven’t forgotten about her. Maybe some special little gifts to let her know that she’s still my number one and I’m just taking up with this younger woman for laughs.

First I ordered this.

guitar wall hanger,Quality assurance,protein-burger.com

I bolted the wall hanger to a support post in my room. If I was going to get this new cute guitar I didn’t want her hidden from sight in a case under my bed or in my closet. She should be displayed in clear sight so I can show her off and her beauty can be admired on a daily basis. Having her there on display will remind me that I need to play her on a regular basis. It’ll be easy to take her from her spot on the hook and make music with her.

Next, were these custom guitar picks.

I found a place that makes custom guitar picks online. I wanted them to be black of course and have my name on them. I even got to choose the font. Do you know what that font is called? Rock Salt. Seems fitting for a rocker. If I had access to stuff like this 40 years ago when I was in a band I would have ordered 100 of them. I would have been tossing them out to girls at every show!

I also found something else online, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

The day arrived. 2/22/22. Today was the day I went to pick up my new little girlfriend. Having made all of the proper preparations and mounting the hook to the post in my room to display her, I was ready.

I went over to South Street Sounds and chatted with the owner’s wife. Her husband was in and out but was busy with some other clients. I didn’t care. I was there to do business regardless of who was present. I told the nice lady what I was there to do and she obliged. She carefully wrapped up my new guitar and I paid her.

I gently carried her home under an overcast sky that threatened to rain. But I willed it away to protect my new girl until I got her safely home. My daughter was home but didn’t see what I carried in.

I unwrapped the guitar from her package and placed her in her rightful place in my room. The funny thing was, I didn’t want to play her right away. I wanted to wait until my daughter left to visit her boyfriend in New Jersey for the weekend. I find that I want things more when I deny myself. If I love something now, I don’t devour it immediately like I did in the past. I wait. I wait for the right moment when everything’s perfect. (seems a little nuts but it works for me in all aspects of my life) I love having things to look forward to as part of my life now. It’s so important to have little things to constantly look forward to. Without that, life can become boring for some people. If I do everything in moderation, I’ll enjoy it more and for a longer period of time.

It’s a good way to live a happy life.

If you’ve got your health, some good people around you, something to do every day, to love and be loved, and something to look forward to… you’re all set.

I let the Iceman go first out of respect.

Such a beautiful faithful wife. Elegant and powerful. Her sharp lines, and double humbucker pickups. She’s not a lady to be trifled with onstage.

Now, my new girl…

My concubine. My new younger mistress. She’s light, fast, and cute. She’s got a whole different feel in my hands than my Iceman. I want to write some new songs on her this year.

But I’ll never forget my first love. The 1979 Ibanez Iceman. The guitar made me who I was back in the day. Out of respect and a little guilt, I felt I had to do something for her for bringing me so much joy for so many years.

So I got her a little present that she always deserved…

Do you see it?

The black leather strap with the white lightning bolt on it! She deserves the best and has waited patiently for it for so many years.

So if I’m going to cheat on her with my new mistress, I think she deserves a nice gift to let her know, she was always… and will always be, my number one.

The Paragon.

I appreciate everyone who read all of these chapters and went on this journey with me. There’ll be more original content on the way soon!

I’ve been teaching myself how to play a little lead guitar in the last few months and it’s coming along!

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

If you liked my last book, Lawndale, then you’ll love my next book!

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water…

Coming this Summer!!!

The Paragon – Chapter 8 – Anticipation

I stood in the music store admiring the instrument on the wall. It wasn’t a famous guitar brand. It didn’t need to be. There was just something about it that spoke to me.

That’s her. Who is she? She’s lovely.

She’s an Eko SC1 Kadett Sunburst. Lean, young, lightweight with feminine curves. A dramatic departure from the angular, masculine lines of the Ibanez Iceman. I gently bring her down from her perch on the wall. She feels light and elegant in my arms.

This is it.

This is the guitar I want. I have to have her.

Then it hits me. She looks like a brand new younger and better version of my very first guitar, the Sears Silvertone!

The resemblance to my first love is uncanny, but the Eko is so much better. I think this is the attraction. Like the wounded teenager, I was in middle school. The object of scorn from the girls I wanted to like me, I’ve spent my life pursuing them. I’ve succeeded in so many ways but this guitar is probably the manifestation of those feelings. The young beauty who got away or was later replaced by what I thought was an even better girl. The Silvertone was replaced by the mighty Iceman. I think it’s all tied together in my feelings and history and has now come full circle.

I like this guitar because it looks and feels like my first guitar. The one that captured my love and imagination for the instrument and rock itself. The object that took me from music lover to music maker.

I have to have her, but I have to be careful. No more reckless spending or behavior now. I’ve done too much of that in so many ways throughout my life. Things are well under control now. I must tread lightly on this new path. (Or, am I back on the right path at last?)

As I hold her in my arms and gently pluck her strings and caress her smooth lean neck, I feel a twinge of guilt. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. I almost imperceptibly feel like I’m cheating on the Ibanez Iceman. She’s the good wife who’s stayed with me through my whole life. The guitar stood by me through thick and thin. The history, the songs, and her legacy are all part of my own mythology. I can’t just take up with this hot little tart simply because she’s young and cute. That would be too close to my real past.

But there is a strong parallel here. But Eric at the pawn shop was right. When you put it on…you’ll know. I’ve known before and felt this back in 1980 and I’m feeling it here again in the music store on South Street 40 years later.

I want her, and like the women in my past or the sale, I wanted to make… I closed it. I asked the price from the owner and he gave me a great deal. The Eko is brand new and just what I’ve been looking for. She plays and feels like a Fender Stratocaster, but she’s lighter and more petite. She’s the girl for me.

I’m obviously keeping my Iceman. The original paragon is too important to me. I’ll never forsake her. But I really want this younger prettier guitar for my new life. Maybe if I do something nice for the Iceman as thank you for standing by me all these years it won’t be so bad if I start dating this younger sexier model.

I need to think about this. But I do not think too long…

Fortune favors the bold and I ask the owner of the store to hold her for me for a couple of days while I figure out my finances. He tells me he’ll hold her until 2/22/22 when he returns after the weekend. I think that’s perfect because I’m off on 2/22 and that date has a certain significance. It’s obviously a date full of 2’s that’s unique, but the weird thing is… I was married on 2/22/1992. I was divorced eight years later, but had I stayed married I would have been married for 30 years on 2/22/22. I know that doesn’t have any real meaning because my marriage dissolved years ago, but for some reason acquiring a new guitar makes sense. I’ll get my first new guitar after 40 years and I’ll do it on what would have been my 30-year wedding anniversary. Why not take up with a new guitar now.

This guitar…

See the note they placed on her?

It won’t be long now…

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

COMING THIS SUMMER…

The Paragon – Chapter 7 – The New Girl

I’m sure by now everybody’s sick of reading this series. But I’m working on the Wildwood book right now and the blog is on autopilot since last year. Don’t worry readers, the best is yet to come in 2023 in this blog. I’m grateful to everyone that still reads and enjoys Phicklephilly.

More time went by and the winter dragged on. It’s been really cold this season but maybe I’m just getting older. I used to be like a big generator when I was young. I was always warm and actually ran a little hot. I was the one who would give his gloves to his friend because their hands were cold. I was always warm. Not sweaty… just a well-heated core.

But as I’ve gotten older I find I really can’t tolerate the cold weather. I guess that’s why old people move to Florida. They just can’t take the cold winters in the Northeast.

I was out on one of my usual epic walking tours around the city and decided to stop back into a few music stores. I went back to Bluebond Guitars on 4th Street.

This time there was no young lady, only a couple of guys my age working there. I’m assuming one of them was the owner. I looked up at the guitars hanging from the wall and the black Ibanez Gio was gone. Hopefully, some teenage kid got it and was learning to rock. I didn’t feel any remorse because I guess I just wasn’t that into that instrument.

The guy asked me what I was looking for and I told him I had a ’79 Ibanez Iceman and just wanted a cheap guitar I could bang around on and play on a regular basis. He ends up taking a black semi-hollow-bodied Guild guitar off the wall with an $800 price tag on it.

So in that instance, I realized this guy wasn’t listening to me and had no interest in selling me a budget guitar. If I was too cheap to even spend $70 on a long-lost guitar strap there’s no way I’m spending $800 on a guitar. I don’t even want that type! I don’t really know what I want but it’s not that. All I can think of is a solid body, good shape, and lightweight. That’s it. Just something simple that isn’t the Iceman and maybe gives me a different sound and tone.

So I leave and head over to the pawn shop again. I stuck my head inside the shambles of a store and said hello to Eric. Boxes and gear are everywhere and the guys behind the counter appear to be hustling products from the store out on eBay.

I told him I was still looking and hadn’t found the guitar that would light me up yet. He told me to keep looking and at some point, I would know.

I feel like I’ve been on this quest for years now. I’ve been missing the musical part of me now more than ever but have been very content creating my blog and books. I think as long as there’s some creative avenue I can travel down I’m fine. I feel best when I’m creating but I want to begin to split that off between writing and music. Since the blog only publishes once a week now, I should have more time to put my energy into some other creative subjects.

My next stop was back to South Street Sounds. I stopped in and spoke with the owner again. I looked around the store and again told him about my quest. I also asked him about his guitar lessons.

I’m self-taught. I learned how to play guitar by listening to my records and learning the songs by ear. I hear the notes and replicate them on the neck of the guitar. I can only imagine what a musician I could have been had I gotten proper lessons as a child. But that’s another story.

He said he could give me lessons but would want to see what my skill level was before we began. He also told me he would set up any lessons around my schedule. He would only charge me $25 per lesson which seemed like a good deal. I figured even the best ballerinas take a class every day. You can always learn something from a more experienced player. I figured since I never took any real guitar lessons, that maybe if I learned some new things from a teacher I could improve my technique and master the instrument.

It should come to me naturally because I already have all the basics in my head and hands. I can play. I’ve been in a few bands. I can write songs but I would just like to be a better musician. Maybe learn some new blues runs or some cool leads. Maybe some new songs I always liked but never learned how to play. Maybe the reason I haven’t been playing much in the last few years is that I haven’t learned anything new in decades. I just keep playing the same old songs and riffs. Maybe learning some new things would reinvigorate my interest in playing.

When I began my musical journey back in the 70s I was always learning. Every experience was a learning curve. There were always new songs to learn, and write and repertoires to build for the bands I was in. This could be what’s missing from my life now.

I love learning new things. Learning is fun. But for many people, learning is associated with school, which I hated as a kid. I felt that the whole experience was a waste of time. It was just some person regurgitating a bunch of facts about things that had already been created and written by others and we had to memorize them and be tested on them. Nonsense to me. There was almost no place for creativity in school. Just memory stuff and math. I get the math part to an extent but how many times have you needed algebra in your adult life?

I liked science, English, and music class because I felt like there were elements that I could learn. But other than that school was just a prison I had to do my time until I could be released.

I think that’s why in the last couple of years I’ve stopped everything I once did in Philly over the last decade. I don’t go to bars anymore. I don’t go to happy hour anymore. I don’t have a girlfriend or hang out with a gaggle of hot young women at events. That all seems boring and a waste of time now. What can I possibly learn from an attractive 28-year-old beauty? Nothing. She has nothing to offer me but her youth and beauty. I’ve always loved those things but have no interest in pursuing them anymore. Some of it may be due to my age, (which is a relief!) but I just don’t see the sense in it anymore. I’d rather write, work, and watch my shows on Netflix. Just focus on my exercise, health, and creativity.

But I know I still hold certain traits that have been held over from my former self. I still love beautiful things and have an eye for lovely women. But now I love them from afar. I can’t be bothered getting involved with anyone now because I enjoy the simplicity of my life. I suppose because I’ve faced so much drama in my personal life over the years I’m just done with it all.

But I still feel for the beauty of life. I just don’t want any of that in a person. Maybe it’s still alive in me but in another form. Not for a young pretty woman, but for something I can possess that will bring me a similar dopamine joy. Something that won’t hurt or betray me. An instrument I can create something fun and beautiful through without involving another person’s wants or needs. Maybe an inanimate object that I can bring to life that I don’t have to text every day to reassure it I love it. Perhaps something I can develop along with. Maybe that thing has been with me all along and I’ve just been too busy working and dating pretty women to bother with.

Maybe a new, pretty guitar will be my paragon. Maybe that’s what I need. Not a girl, but a guitar. It’s so much simpler. I can be whoever I want around a guitar. I can bring my own joy forth through the instrument without the nonsense. Only good will spring forth from my heart and into my fingers on her strings.

I’m not cheating on the Iceman. I’m just spreading the genes around the musical community.

I run it over in my head again… just to reassure myself. (This is a combat mechanism I’ve installed in my brain to combat anxiety and depression.)

This makes sense why I need to do this now. Maybe I’ll replace all the women and drama in my life with a guitar. I’ve cut loose all of the crazy, toxic people from my life. I barely drink anymore. I eat right and exercise. I think I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my whole life. I’ve beaten all of my vices, crazies, and booze are gone. I’ve conquered my anxiety and depression. It took me most of my life to do it, but it’s nice to finally be free of all of that pain. It’s been an arduous journey but I’ve been able to spank all of my demons and make them pay. I’ve forgiven everyone, and I no longer worry about all of the nonsense most people do. I enjoy living a simple and uncluttered life. This is now an elegant balance I’ve finally been able to accomplish after a lifetime of struggle and anguish.

But despite the ups and downs, I’ve had a good time. It’s been an exciting and colorful life.

How many people do you know who’ve had the blessing to be able to fall in love multiple times?

The rush of new love balanced with the pain and suffering of loss makes you a more complete person.

I’m sure it’s great to meet that one person, get married, and stay with them forever. But that never made sense to me. It’s just not something that was ever right for me. Good for the people that can do it, but I like being free and alone. The next love or adventure is just up around the next bend. It’s been an action-packed trip. I don’t know how most people stay in the same marriage and job their whole lives. Maybe it’s the fear of the alternative. Most people don’t like change or being alone. I dig both. I suppose if you’ve lived in a body that’s constantly wracked with anxiety and depression, any outer changes are just hills you climb to get out from under it on a daily basis.

There’s a certain joy you learn from being free and alone to do what you want, when you want, and not answer to anyone.

Love and attraction occur automatically in homo sapiens. Marriage and monogamy are RULES. There are no rules in the way the heart. The heart wants what it wants. Once you put a price tag on anything beautiful, it’s ruined.

I walked around the store and looked at their latest batch of instruments that hung from the walls.

My eyes suddenly stopped on one particular guitar hanging there among the others.

It was like walking through Spruce Street Harbor Park on a summer evening. The place is full of people. It’s dusk and not quite dark yet. Lanterns hang from the trees and people are sitting on the grass, and lying in hammocks. Music and laughter fill the air as people eat and drink as they celebrate the warm weather of the evening. I walk along the path with a friend sipping a beverage when I encounter a group of women. They’re all standing together looking lovely.

But there’s that one in the group who stands out from the others. The best one. The obvious queen of the group. There’s something about her that makes her shine a bit brighter than the rest. That’s when I saw Sarala for the first time.

I said to my friend… “I have to meet her.”

That was what I saw on the wall at the music store that day. 

I think I found the guitar I want.

To be continued next Tuesday…

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SAFE TO GO BACK IN THE WATER…

COMING THIS SUMMER

The long-awaited book about what it was like spending every summer in Wildwood, New Jersey in the 70s!

The Paragon – Chapter 6 – DiPinto Guitars

A month or so later I was chatting with my coworker at my job, (The one who’s a musician and knows more about guitars and rock than I do) and he and one of the other guys, (Who’s the drummer in a local band called, Mesh) and they told me I should visit Dipinto Guitars up on Girard Avenue in Fishtown. I decided that on one of my epic walking tours around the city, I’d stop in there and check it out. They both said it was a great store and the owner was really cool.

A month or so went by and it was one of the rare warm days, and I was off and decided to make the journey up to the store. I went in and met the owner. I introduced myself and gave him a little of my history. This store was probably the best music store I had set foot inside in Philly. He had lots of great guitars, basses, and amps around the store. He had a nice collection of vintage instruments and effects pedals.

I had been out walking for a few hours and asked if I could use his bathroom. He obliged and took me to the back room that led to a flight of stairs to the basement.

Even this guy’s bathroom was cool.

Just the coolest bathroom in Philly by far. It was like stepping into my past 40 years ago when I owned a few of those posters and rock band mirrors that I had won on the boardwalk in Wildwood as a teenager!

We chatted about his history and it was quite impressive. He’s played in several bands throughout the years and still played locally when he could. He also made and customized his own line of instruments. Like Paul McCartney and Jimi Hendrix, Mr. DiPinto is a lefty. He’s supplied guitars to some other left-handed guitarists over the years. He’s also built and sold guitars for several other famous musicians, like David Bowie, Jack White, Elliot Easton, Rick Neilson, Dick Dale, Kurt Vile, and LA Guns.

Mr. DiPinto played in a band called Wastoid and opened for Judas Priest at The Electric Factory back in the early 2000s and I told him I saw his band because I was at that show!

I also noticed he had a nice collection of vintage effects pedals in a glass case under the counter. So overall this was a very cool store run by a really talented industrious guy. Most of us musicians at one time had the dream of making it big and being a famous rockstar but this man has definitely had a taste of that and now runs a successful business. So good for him!

We chatted a bit more trading stories and I wandered around the store looking for the next instrument that would maybe light me up. I really liked some of the guitars he had made himself because they all had a unique surf-rock vibe to them and had some interesting lines and aspects about them.

He has some regular stuff like these Squiers and Strats…

Some crazy heavy metal type guitars… (very cool and flashy but I already have a cool guitar. I want something that’s nothing like my Iceman.

Here are a few of his custom-made designs. Bright, fun colors with classic vintage 1960s retro lines. Those groups of 4 dots are little buttons/switches you can hit with your fingers to change the sound. They control which pickups are on or off at any time. Looks cool, but in my opinion, less is more on a guitar. Still… they’re really nice guitars. But the biggest point that would stop me from buying one would be the price. They’re custom-made. They’re going to be expensive. Most are over $1000, so I won’t be getting one of those.

But there was this one guitar that was hanging up on the wall that really caught my eye. Not so much by its red color, but the way it looked and its pedigree.

That one… second from the left with the black pickguard.

It was a Tokai which is one of several Japanese guitar makers. I don’t think they make that model anymore. It’s a used 38 Special from around 1984. I liked how it was in decent shape, had a cool body, and was from around the period when the Iceman was born.

He let me take it down from the wall and play it a bit. It played just like my Iceman but was different in appearance. It was vintage and a rare guitar. You don’t really see these models anymore. I don’t know anything about the guitar’s history but it had been taken care of. Good shape, some dings here and there, and almost no buckle rash on the back.

But here’s the thing… the guitar was over $300 and a 30-year-old instrument. Another thing that struck me was that the volume and tone knobs on it were gold in color. They looked out of place. They appeared to be the knobs from a gold top Gibson Les Paul. Why were they gold, and why were they on this guitar? What else isn’t original on this guitar?

I looked up the model later on the internet and all of the pictures I saw had black knobs that looked more appropriate for this type of guitar. I know this may seem like a small detail for an old used guitar, but I think if I purchased it I’d never be happy with it. They just looked out of place.

But it was still a cool guitar and out of all of the guitars I’d looked at and played over the last three years this one did speak to me for several reasons. The shape, the color, the vintage and it played like my own guitar. So this guitar became the frontrunner in my musical quest. But I still had a slight problem with the knobs, the age, and the condition of the guitar. Oh, and $300+ for an old guitar that wasn’t one of the famous brands, sort of left me a bit cold. But, I’m sure if I had really shown interest in buying it, Mr. DiPinto would have replaced the knobs for me.

I told him I liked the axe but I’d have to sleep on it. Years ago I was a bit reckless with my money. I was compulsive in many aspects of my life and my youth. But as I’ve aged I’ve gone the other way. I’m super thrifty now. I don’t make impulsive decisions about anything anymore. Although I’m the same man I’ve always been in spirit and heart, I’ve literally gone in the opposite direction in my personal life. My core traits and talents remain but I’m different now. I rarely drink alcohol, no longer smoke cigarettes, eat nutritious food every day, and keep myself in healthy shape through proper diet and exercise. I’m no longer a young guy anymore. I’ve finally matured and take care of myself rather than feed my compulsive needs with frivolous things.

But I’m still a bit shallow when it comes to beautiful things. I love beauty. If the guitar doesn’t please me visually I’m not interested in it. I think the same thing goes for my romantic life. I’m 60 years old. I’m out of the game. I don’t have a girlfriend, and I no longer date or even want to date anyone. I like being alone. I want to come and go as I please and not answer to anyone. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone else’s happiness but my own. It just wouldn’t be fair.

The type of woman I like and am attracted to all want to get married and have kids. I’m way past that. It wouldn’t be fair for me to get involved with a beautiful younger woman because she’ll eventually want those things. Don’t get me wrong, I totally understand it, but it wouldn’t be fair to her to be involved with me. So although I’ve enjoyed all the love and romance that has filled my past, I’m just done with it now.

I know it may sound a little shallow or picky, but if the old Tokai is a little worn and doesn’t have the right knobs on it, I just don’t really want to blow $300 plus tax on something that doesn’t please me every day. I need to feel that thing that Eric at the pawn shop told me about.

I was about to leave the store after having a lovely hour with Mr. DiPinto and his wonderful store when something caught my eye.

Over on the back wall were several guitar straps hanging together. But there was one in particular that I had never seen in real life.

Yes… the long-lost black guitar strap with the lightning bolt on it!

I maybe saw one once in Gilday’s music up in Northfield NJ back in 1980, or maybe in a rock magazine somewhere but I haven’t seen one in real life for a very long time. I always thought it would be the perfect strap for the Iceman to complete my look but I never could get my hands on one.

But here it was hanging on the wall among a variety of different types of straps. I walked over and touched it feeling a connection to the item. I could smell the leather as I checked the price tag.

$70! What? $70? for a strap? That seems outrageous. I told Mr. DiPinto the story about how I always wanted one and he told me I should get it. He makes his living selling things in his store and I really want to support local businesses but $70 seems like way too much for me to spend on a guitar strap. As much as that item means to me from a teenage fantasy perspective I can’t fathom spending that much on something like that.

So I left the store and thanked him for his time and told him I’d seriously think about the Tokai .38 Special.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

The Paragon – Chapter 4 – The Pawn Shop

I started to think about maybe getting an inexpensive electric guitar that I could play more often. Something different than the Iceman. But I didn’t want to spend much money. Just something I could bang around on. The Iceman was now 40 years old and a valuable antique. It’s still in mint condition because I always took good care of it, but it’s worth thousands of dollars now. I thought that if I could find a cheap electric guitar that was a bit more present, I’d play it more. I started to do some research and decided to shop around locally in search of this cheap guitar.

It seemed that in the last few years, I was always talking to people I’d met about music and playing rock. To me, this was a signal that I needed to not only play again but maybe try to become an even better musician. Maybe learn how to play some leads and learn some new songs to reignite my interest in making music again. I felt that it was always a part of me and was lying dormant in my mind for many years while I worked at my job.

I think when I started writing this blog back in 2016, my brain was calling out to me to create again.

A guy who was a former musician who ran the company that washed the windows at a restaurant where I worked would always come in and chat about music with me. He was a retired school teacher and loved the same rock I listened to. He eventually ended up giving me a Fender G-tec amplifier for free!

I was surprised and very grateful but also saw this as a signal that my heart was calling out to me to rock again. This was a few years ago around 2018. The Fender was a cool little amp that you could program bass and drum sounds into. I could hit a button and it would play a bass and drum track and then I’d play along with it. It was really fun to jam along with but I was still playing just small bits of songs I had known for four decades.

I think maybe one of the most exciting parts about playing guitar for me in the late seventies was writing songs and learning new songs from other artists. There was a certain rush that occurred when I’d figure out the riff to songs by Led Zeppelin and Aerosmith. I felt like I was getting better if I was walking in the footsteps of Jimmy Page or Joe Perry. I wanted to feel that way again.

The great thing about music is its purity. It will never hurt you and only bring you joy. It can give you a great high when you play and perform and doesn’t give you a hangover. Your music will never betray you or break your heart. It’ll comfort you when you’re sad, and energize you when you’re happy. It truly is the rhythm of life itself.

I decided to look into some of the local music stores in center city. This was about two years ago. I began with visiting my friend Eric down at Society Hill Loan which is a pawn shop down at 6th and South Street.

The place is a cluttered mess with boxes and amps everywhere. There are several guitars hanging from racks around the store and some of the better ones are in cases behind the counters. The place has been there for years and actually does brisk business on eBay. I spoke with Eric about what I was thinking about and how now that I’m older I was thinking about an old used Fender telecaster. Springsteen plays one and so does Keith Richards. It’s a versatile instrument and good for rhythm. I saw a few in the store but they were copies made by Jay Turser. He makes decent low-priced guitars, but I wasn’t feeling it. I also don’t know if I feel good enough to own or invest in an original guitar. I had to focus on my objective. A cheap electric guitar I could knock around on and play on a daily basis.

Eric said to me that I should shop around and when I put on a specific guitar I’ll just know that it’s the one. From one musician to another I think that was good advice. He told me to stop back in occasionally because they were always getting new stuff in.  There was always something about that pawn shop that made me sad. In the front windows, they had some old TVs and radios but mostly musical instruments. Just seeing those horns and guitars made me sad. Instead of seeing several guitars at rock-bottom prices I only saw the failed dreams of other musicians. I always imagined the guy who owned the guitar and for whatever reason had to pawn his instrument. The thing that he may have built his hopes and dreams on. The road of rock ‘n roll is littered with the detritus of millions of failed musicians, but seeing these artifacts held out for everyone to see knowing where they came from just made me sad. I was a failed musician/rockstar but I wasn’t broken up about it. I’ve had some lows in my life like we all have, but I never got so low that I ever wanted to part with my Ibanez Iceman. It had brought me so much joy and I had worked hard to acquire it, and I loved it so for what it did, I could never part with it.

So  I went about my business of working and writing and slowly thought about my next guitar. There was no rush. Weeks went by and sometimes on my walks on my days off I would stop in at the pawn shop and chat with Eric. He’s a cool dude who still plays in a band, but each time I went in there I didn’t see anything I liked. Probably because deep down I had no idea what I wanted or if I even needed another guitar.

My daughter said to me I never do anything for myself. I tell her it’s because I don’t want anything. I’ve had tons of material things in my life in the past and none of them made me happy. It seemed the more stuff I had the more responsibility and stress it brought with it. I think many people fill their lives with stuff in an attempt to fill a certain emptiness inside their hearts. Sadly material things like cars, jewelry, vacations, homes, and designer apparel all seem silly to me. I suppose it makes them feel affluent, successful, or more attractive to other people. But it’s just stuff. All of the greatest things and life can’t be bought. If you can purchase it… it must not have any real value because anybody with money can get it. Some of the greatest things in life can’t even be seen. They must be felt or experienced.

I’m so in tune with myself now that if I want something out of the ordinary I always ask myself why I need it and if I really need it. Am I depressed? Am I missing something? What’s wrong? Do I need to fill an emptiness inside myself? Obviously, that’s not the case with me because I rarely buy myself anything at all now, but that’s just how my brain works after living with the darkness of depression and the rollercoaster of anxiety my whole life.

But I’m fine now, and I think another guitar would be neat to have and play. Maybe give me a fresh start to kickstart my heart about music again. Not just playing music, but writing some new songs from my older more experienced self.

One of the guys at the store where I work is a musician and he’s the only person I’ve ever met that knows more about rock music than I do. That’s an incredible feat to me and I admire him for his musical ability and mental prowess on the subject. I think chatting with him at work and listening to all of the playlists he’s created for the store on Spotify has inspired me to return to my first love.

Last year I started my own Spotify account and I love making playlists, listening to all of my favorites, and discovering new music. It’s reignited my love for the art form.

I’m getting a guitar!

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

The Paragon – Chapter 3 – South Street Sounds

Two years ago I bought a little amplifier from a local music store. It was a Roland Cube. Just a little amp with a loud bark. It was only $100 but has plenty of power and all of the cool effects were built into it. Technology really has made some leaps in the last four decades. Electronics are smaller, faster, and better than ever.

CUBE-20GX | Guitar Amplifier - Roland

The owner of South Street Sounds is a local musician who’s been in the industry for many years. He played and recorded in a band called Tall Trees. He’s got tons of gear crammed into the little store and it’s a bit cluttered. There’s so much musical stuff packed in there that there’s almost no room to sit down and try out an instrument. But he’s got a little bit of everything at reasonable prices.

In the basement, he has a complete recording studio and rehearsal space. He also gives guitar lessons and rents out the studio to musicians looking to record. He’ll run the board and mix the songs down for you. The Dead Milkmen have recorded there. When he’s not playing or fishing he’ll pick up gigs at local watering holes like Bob and Barbara’s or McGillan’s here in the city.

He’s been married to the same lady for around 25 years and they run the business together. His wife usually is behind the counter and operates the store on a daily basis. She’s a fit, pretty Asian lady with a peppery personality. She has a certain intensity in contrast to her husband’s laid-back, easy-going nature. Maybe that’s why it’s worked for so long. I’ve found that she’ll start talking about some subject or person that irritates her and then will become so intense, you actually feel like you’re the one in trouble with her!

I kind of dig her because she’s attractive and a little bit mean. I think this goes back to my Junior High days when I was hated by everyone. Being an ugly outcast, I was the object and target of my classmate’s scorn. Especially the girls. I think somehow in my formative years when girls were mean to me my subconscious at least enjoyed the attention even though it was negative. I think this may have manifested itself into me enjoying a woman who’s a little bit mean. I end up liking women who are a bit cruel in general. I don’t understand it but it’s definitely there in me.

I would stop in occasionally and chat with her but her corrosive personality compared to her very nice husband kept me away. That, and there was just no room in the small space to really check out their collection of guitars.

But I was still looking. I was thinking I may want a Fender Telecaster but still wasn’t sure. All I had was the little amp and my Iceman. But something was still missing. I’m not entirely sure what it was, but probably the fact that I wasn’t learning any new songs or writing and composing anything on my own. My energy was focused on the blog, but the itch to play again was getting stronger.

I would drag out the Iceman and jam on occasion but something was missing from the whole experience. I sold my Marshall amplifier years ago simply because it was just too big and too loud to play in my apartment in Rittenhouse. It would have melted the paint off the walls before I would be thrown out for violating local noise ordinances!

Something was coming but I didn’t know how or when. I would just keep thinking about music and ideas for songs and just let it develop naturally.

Continued next Tuesday…

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

The Paragon – Chapter 2 – The Past

Back in 1978, I was the singer in a band called Renegade in Northeast Philly. The musicians were already playing together when I joined the band. It was a huge leap for me and was the beginning of my life as a musician. I’ve written about this time in my life and it’s all pretty well documented.

We played the song, Draw The Line by Aerosmith, and Gerry the guitarist asked that I learn and play the guitar part when he did an extended slide solo during the song. I leaped at the opportunity to play guitar so he brought in his old Silvertone to practice and showed me how to play the three notes I needed to play.

Larry, Mike, Chaz, and Jerry

I eventually acquired the guitar from him. He played a blonde post-CBS Fender Stratocaster. He needed money to buy a Valentine’s Day present for his girlfriend and he sold me his old Sears Silvertone for $15. He even threw in the amplifier that came with it. He was a great guitarist and had a cool Stage amp and a Univox Super Fuzz distortion pedal. The equipment he was using became the model of what I wanted to do musically even though I could barely play.

I found this pic on the internet and it is the exact model I owned into the early 80s.

Time went by and I continued to practice every day. Learning the notes on the fretboard and pouring through my sister’s old piano songbooks to learn songs. I would forgo going out to stay in and practice my instrument. My main focus was to learn the basics and then start writing songs. I wrote my first song called Get Lost on that guitar. I had only been playing the guitar for a couple of months. I always had a good ear and a sense of music in my head. I loved rock music since I was a kid, and leaned more toward the harder acts like Steppenwolf rather than The Beatles. I really dug hard-hitting powerful guitar sounds. The heavier the better.

Let’s jump to 1980 and I’m living in Wildwood, New Jersey with my family. My dad had decided that once my older sister went off to college, we’d leave Philly and live at the seashore. Wildwood back then was an absolute wonderland in the summertime. But in the winter it became a desolate awful place for kids and teens to live. There is absolutely nothing to do. It’s a resort/retirement town and only exists because of its location, free beaches, and a boardwalk full of amusement rides.

But I survived the winter and actually thrived when I met a kid who played guitar. We started jamming and later joined a few other guys to form the Union Jacks. My buddy said I probably needed to buy a “real guitar” if I was going to be taking music seriously. I thought this was a great idea and started looking through magazines to see what my favorite guitar heroes were playing.

The one instrument that really struck me as the guitar that was right for me was the Ibanez Iceman. It had to be black and would represent the cool heavy metal/glam image and persona I wanted. I guess once I learned how to play guitar and write songs I didn’t really focus on being a great musician. I just wanted to write good catchy songs and be a rockstar. I remember reading once that the artist, Sting once said, “I saw the Beatles and I wanted to be in a band. I saw Jimi Hendrix and I wanted to be a musician.”

You can read about my whole music saga in my upcoming book, Down The Shore: Stories from my summers in Wildwood, NJ

But for this story, you can click on the link below to get the backstory of this musical instrument.

The Ibanez Iceman

When I saw the film Hard Day’s Night I wanted to be a rockstar. A cool job playing rock music and being hounded by throngs of girls wherever I went. So I always liked being in a band but my focus was on becoming a famous rockstar on my songwriting merits. I figured I could always get other musicians to bring my poetic and musical vision to life with their musical prowess.

So now I had the Iceman and I loved it. I referred to it in the feminine sense like men name their boats female names. It’s a term of endearment. Even though the Iceman had the word MAN in the name, and had sharp edges, an angular body, a hook, and what looked like a stinger I still regarded the instrument as female. She was beautiful and loyal and brought me hours of joy. She was far better than most people I knew. But the instrument still had a very heavy metal masculine image to it. Look at the photo. That’s a metal guitar. You don’t come out onstage with a black Iceman and a Marshall amp behind you and play ballads. You crank hard rock and metal at a loud volume.

I remember seeing a picture of a guitarist playing guitar in a music magazine and he had a black guitar strap with a white lightning bolt on it. I had to get one of those to complete my look. I had the cool Iceman, but my strap was plain black leather and I put neat buttons on it. Buttons were popular back then and my guitar strap was covered in buttons. Buttons with images and words like, I want complete control, I want it all, a picture of Alex from Clockwork Orange, a photo of Farrah Fawcett, etc. Just stuff I liked and thought was cool at the time.

But I wanted that lightning bolt strap to complete my rockstar look. But couldn’t find one anywhere. It was 1979, and I lived in a ghost town so music choices were limited. There was a TV repair shop owned by a guy who had a few guitars and gave lessons, a music store called Back to Earth, and a place called Gilday’s up in Pleasantville. Not much else. It was even difficult to find good music down the shore. All they had was one crappy radio station broadcast out of Atlantic City and if you wanted a cassette by a specific band the store had to special order it for you. I was probably the first person on the island that owned Def Leppard’s first album, On Through The Night, and Some older Judas Priest albums because there was just no call for any of that music where I lived. When I think about how sparse and talentless the population was in Wildwood in the wintertime I’m surprised to this day that we all actually came together and created a viable rock band.

I spoke to my father about the black strap with the lightning bolt and he said he’d see what he could do. He had always come through for all of us on anything we wanted when it came to Christmas, so why not ask Santa himself to procure this elusive item for me? He was great at locating things and bringing them home. I was sure he’d find one for me.

But as time went by, he came to me and said he wasn’t able to find the strap I was looking for. Was it a custom item that the guy I saw wearing it had specially made for him? Maybe. I eventually let it go and continued to play wearing my plain leather one covered in buttons.

The Ibanez Iceman had taken the place of the Sears Silvertone. The guitar that I learned to play and started my songwriting journey on. The guitar looked like a slender Stratocaster, but once you got close to it or held it realized it was one level above being a toy for a child. But it was a great guitar to learn on and it meant a lot to me.

But it eventually started to have electrical problems and spent more time in the closet because it had been replaced by my new girlfriend. My best girl. My beautiful powerful black Iceman. I had a tendency to do that with women back then too. I would have a girl I liked and I would spend time with her. Let’s use Anne as an example. Anne was my little girlfriend at the end of the summer. That lasted into the winter and she would come down and visit with her mom during the winter and we would hang out. I was 17 and she was 14. But I was immature and she was the perfect girlfriend for me. But once I was enrolled in Wildwood High and playing in a new band, I started dating a local girl. She was tall and blonde and I was digging her. New and shiny like the Iceman. Anne slowly became the Silvertone. I thought less about her and enjoyed my time with the girl who was new. I was fickle even back then. I didn’t even feel bad when I dumped Anne to be with the new girl. Anne was a better match than the new girl, but I wanted what I wanted. As the song says, “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.” The new girl won out because she was available. But because of who I was at the time, once the summer of 1980 broke, I cut them both loose to enjoy all the fresh tourist girls who would arrive in droves each week on vacation.

That was 40 years ago and none of it matters now, but I noticed some interesting parallels in my life lately. The Ibanez Iceman is the only guitar I’ve purchased in the last 40 years. I thought about getting a Gibson Explorer as a second guitar back then, but they were expensive. I had the Iceman and that was enough. I could only play one guitar at a time anyway. The Gibson Explorer would have been a vanity purchase not because of how well it played but because it looked cool. Pretty much why I wanted the Iceman. It looked cool. My decision to spend all of my busboy earnings on a $500 guitar back in 1979 was simply because it looked cool. I wasn’t about the ease of play or tone. I got it because it looked sharp and I had never even played it before I bought it. I just wanted that look. Pretty superficial and shallow thinking. But I’ve always been that way. I’ve put up with so much from so many women because they were beautiful. I was always very forgiving of beauty, mistaking it for sophistication and kindness. When normally beauty is the opposite.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about getting another guitar. Just something simple, inexpensive, and functional. I don’t want to have to drag the Iceman (which is now a valuable collectible antique) out from its case underneath my bed, get it hooked up, and jam. I’d rather just write.

I had spoken to a musician who worked as a delivery driver at the last restaurant where I worked four years ago. He said he would buy blank guitar bodies and necks and build guitars himself. He’s a really talented guitarist but I think it’s more of a pet project than something he was thinking about turning into a business. We chatted about it on a few occasions but nothing ever came out of it.

To be continued next week…

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Happy New Year – 2023

Happy New Year!

What a year it’s been! A lot has happened and I’m going to touch on the highlights of 2022.

I’ve been writing this blog for over 6 years now. 2022 has been a great year with many changes. The pandemic rolled on and as more people got vaccinated it began to slow down. I was laid off from my hospitality job back in March 2020 and was unemployed for a year and a half. Normally that would sound sad but it was a spectacular and creative time for me and my daughter.

For a whole year and a half, we weren’t slaves to horrible jobs. We both vowed that when things returned we’d never work in the hospitality industry again. The one thing people love in this city is going out to dinner and drinking. But working in that industry is the absolute worst place for anyone to be as a vocation. It not only attracts the worst people and those who lack the skills to do anything else, but the hours also suck, and the clientele is impaired.

Just awful.

But I’m glad we both did it because we knew what we never wanted to do again, and it gave us the means to file for unemployment and collect on the government’s dime for a year and a half.

It was like getting a grant to create and make music for over a year. If you leave artists alone, they’ll have the time and money to simply work on their art.

During that time my daughter composed and produced an EP of original songs and put them out on YouTube and Soundcloud. I continued writing and publishing my blog but didn’t have any new stories for content. So I decided to turn inward and write stories from my young life growing up in Philly and my summers in Wildwood.

They were all wildly successful. I dropped the links into groups on Facebook that liked that sort of nostalgic content and the members loved them. It brought me a lot of fresh content and traffic. The best part of it for me was reconnecting with people from my past and realizing what my next two books would be about.

2022 saw the release of my fifth work of non-fiction, LAWNDALE, a collection of stories from my childhood growing up in Northeast Philadelphia. It continues to have brisk sales on Amazon.

I had the honor of being a guest on Tom Krantz’s podcast, Type. Tune. Tint. It was a great experience and helped promote my book. You can check it out here.

Regarding numbers on the blog, we’ve had another good year. We hit over 380,000 page views since the blog’s inception.

Here are some of the 2022 YTD data:

Page Views: 55,000

Visitors: 44,000

Subscribers: 2,400

I’m really happy with how much the blog has grown organically since I started it with just one post back in the Fall of 2016. I appreciate everyone who reads, likes, comments and subscribes to Phicklephilly.

Phicklephilly began as a place for me to tell my stories about dates I went on, past and present girlfriends, and friends. I later added dating and relationship advice which was popular and brought me tons of traffic. I had grown tired of it all back in 2020 and wanted to stop doing the dating and relationship advice because it just became too hard to generate and maintain. But I kept it going because people liked it and it brought me traffic. But back in 2016, I prophecized that there would come a day when Phicklephilly would become nothing more than stories from my life and nothing more. I’m at a point with this blog where I’m writing for myself.

After doing it for 6 years and cranking out 7 published books I’m hungry to create something of real value. But I don’t want it to publish every day. It’s too much work and not my ultimate vision for this blog. I make a nice living now doing freelance commercial writing for companies across the country. It’s a challenge to create and the money is decent. I love the idea of making a living doing something I created rather than working in some job with a bunch of no-talent mooks. (which was my life in corporate America for the last 30 years)

I went from working in sales in my professional life to a guy who makes his living writing. I love to create. Nothing brings me more joy than making something and publishing it.

Starting back in January of 2022 Phicklephilly no longer provided any dating and relationship advice. I’ve been doing it for over 3 years and I’m tired of it. I feel like I’ve covered every aspect of it and it no longer interests me. People can still read all of that stuff because it will live in the archives on this blog forever. My traffic for the site is still solid despite the changes made last year and the lack of new content.

I only publish once a week. I put out something new and different every Tuesday. There will be no notice and each piece will stand on its own. Think of the quote from Forrest Gump: “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never what you’re going to get.” That’s what Phicklephilly has become. Every Tuesday you get a new story but it will only be about things I want to write about or stuff I did.

I like the idea of the absolute freedom to create the stories I want to tell. But fear not… these are all interesting little stories about cool topics. I’m finally making the blog I want to make with no interest in page views, likes, revenue, or stats. Will I cash all the checks I receive from WordPress and Google for the ads I allow them to run on my site? Of course, I will. Why not? I provided all of this content and this ad revenue helps support the site. But it will no longer drive why I generate content. I’d rather write something heartfelt and meaningful than just crank out dating and relationship advice.

I’m getting older now. (60!) I don’t work in corporate America anymore. I’m so glad I left the rat race behind. I don’t go to happy hour anymore. I eat better and rarely drink alcohol. Going out to bars and burning money with a bunch of drunks seems like a waste of time. I haven’t been on a dating app in over two years. I just don’t care. Those sites are all filled with leftovers and losers anyway. Sad lonely people looking to replicate the love of their lives that’s long gone and can never be reproduced.

I’m glad I lived all of these adventures and don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a great time in this city. But it’s over. I’m done. There’s absolutely nothing I can learn from hanging out or dating young women. Other than their youth and beauty, they bring nothing to the table. Let the young people find their way with each other. I don’t belong out there anymore. To me, it’s just boring.

Don’t get me wrong, It’s been a great year. I will write about all of the adventures I’ve had in 2022. They’re stories best told in the coming year. I assure you, they will be interesting.

However, Tales of Rock will live on in 2023. It will happen when I think of something interesting and then write a piece about it and drop it on a Tuesday. That’s it.

I’m looking forward to how the blog will evolve and change as time goes by. I continue to evolve so why not my work? You should always be evolving throughout your life. If you’re not, you’re stagnant. I’m happy that I’m always growing and changing, even at this point in my life. There’s always new cool stuff to do and experience, and I want to share those stories with you.

I’m grateful to everyone who has taken the time to read Phicklephilly and bought my latest books over the years, but the best is yet to come!

I hope to publish my 8th book, Down The Shore around Memorial Day this year. This will be a book about my life in Wildwood during the 70s.

Health and Happiness to all in the coming year!

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

Here’s the wrap-up from Tom’s podcast.

Got Googled

Back in 2020, I applied to get Google AdSense on my site so they could run ads on my blog and generate revenue. It was a complicated process and took months for them to get back to me.

I was finally approved, and ads began to run on Phicklephilly. I had already secured my own clients to run on the site so this was an added bonus. The income isn’t that great unless you have millions of page views but it was free money I earned while I slept, so I was down.

But here’s the rub.

Google has very strict guidelines when it comes to running ads on your site. Your content has to be very PG and you can’t have anything sexual or offensive on your site. I always wrote from my heart and used the whole language. Especially in the beginning. I wasn’t too worried, because most of my stuff was pretty tame. I’d rather mention it and leave the images up to my readers.

But one of the most popular posts I’ve ever written was about Asian massage parlors in Philly. I wrote it back in 2017 and it was just me interviewing a friend of mine about his experiences at those establishments.

Google Adsense was immediately all over it with warnings about how they wouldn’t run any ads on that page unless I fixed it. What they meant by “fix” was to clean it up and make it safe so anybody could read it. I didn’t like any of this but I complied. I changed a few things but they were relentless in their attacks on my work.

I thought the one page that’s had over 17,000 page views should be a winner for advertising revenue… but no. They kept flagging the site for violations and ultimately I simply relented and took it down. I didn’t want to offend anybody, but it really felt like a form of censorship. I mean… here’s a company that runs ads for HBO and that cable network has tons of profanity, violence, and sex on it. I wondered, why me? That all seemed a bit hypocritical on the part of Google. But I wanted the revenue and it took me forever to get approved, so I sadly gave into their will. They had me at their mercy.

Things have been fine since then and I got over it. But then something else happened last year. My Google email account was hacked. I didn’t realize it at first. A small letter Y appeared in my search engine bar on Google Chrome. I would go to search for something at I would be redirected to Yahoo. I didn’t want any of this. I tried to clean it off my Chrome account using different security measures but none of them worked.

This went on for a week or so, and then one Sunday night I got a text from google that they had disabled my account. So I had no access to my email, calendar, and my google drive. Google has the power to not only disable your account to keep you safe it can easily cut you off from everything you have in your accounts with them. They do this with no remorse and without warning. This is a little disturbing that this company has this kind of power over its users. (It’s funny how the only two industries that refer to their clients as users are internet companies and drug dealers)

My mail has been in place for 10 years and had everything in it. My calendar had dates and things scheduled in it since 2010. My Drive had both manuscripts of my works of fiction, and every article I’d written for the freelance commercial writing I do for a living.

Google told me that my google account had been disabled due to harmful malware and phishing that had hacked into my account, and some entity tried to change my password. I thought, the next thing they’d do was try to hack into my bank account or my brokerage accounts. It was pretty scary.

But with the account disabled it stopped the perpetrators dead in their tracks. I found a way to clean out the malware from my chrome account and I sent google a message telling them what I did to try to fix it.

They got back to me in 48 hours and told me the account was irreparably corrupted and they wouldn’t reinstate it.

And that was it. Everything was simply… gone.

But the good news is, I don’t really care about my email or calendar, I just made a new one with a new name and password. But I was a little salty about the elimination of everything in my Drive.

But I wasn’t that upset.

All of my books are held securely at KDP Amazon and I have complete control over them. I also have copies of the manuscripts saved to my computer. Everything I’ve ever written commercially has been shared with my editor and she has records of everything I’ve done. So I’ll be fine.

It was actually a bit liberating to know that although someone could come in and attack my account I really didn’t lose everything. If anything, it gave me a fresh start with a new email free from clutter and a new calendar. I’ll just have my editor share with me copies of everything I’ve written for her to my new Drive.

So as daunting as something like this can be, I just had to think to myself for a moment and not panic. My house hasn’t been broken into. My daughter is safe and so am I. My money is secure and untouchable. My creative work is safe. I’m fine and I really haven’t lost anything. The only time you really lose something is when your perception is that it’s a loss.

If you’re fine without something you don’t really miss it. Nothing of real value has been affected and we’re all fine, so this is simply a story and a warning to everybody out there to be careful and be mindful of what’s going on with your digital footprint across all of your devices.

Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. 

You can check out my books here: https://www.amazon.com/s?k=charles+wiedenmann&ref=nb_sb_noss_1

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