This is where it all began! My very first published book!
Love at first swipe! One man’s story of returning to Philadelphia in search of the perfect girlfriend. Will he succeed or fail miserably in his quest to find love in this city?
This is a funny and sometimes heart-wrenching tale of a man trying to navigate the pitfalls of the modern dating world in the city of Philadelphia in the mid-2000s.
You can get a copy of my first published book here:
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Top review from the United States for PHICKLEPHILLY
Reviewed in the United States on February 18, 2020
I love this teaser. I found Phicklephilly online when he first started blogging, and I have not been disappointed. He had me at the post where he was hanging out with a beautiful woman he works with and having to carry around a large banner from a work event. He’s fun, thoughtful, and provides lots of life experience advice.
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Thanks to everyone who bought this book!
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Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly.
In honor of Phicklephilly once being a blog about dating and relationships, I give you this.
Love is often described as a force that shapes our world, ignites our passions, and binds us in unbreakable connections. Its influence is so profound that it can leave an indelible mark on our lives, even after relationships have ended. As I delved into the depths of this enigmatic emotion, I uncovered a truth that is both fascinating and profound: the power of love is not solely in its expression, but also in the belief in its existence.
The Invisible Force That Guides Us
Love is a complex emotion that transcends time, space, and reason. Its manifestations are as diverse as the relationships it fosters, from the bonds between family members to the connections shared between friends and romantic partners. Yet, love’s most remarkable aspect lies in its ability to leave an imprint long after its tangible presence has dissipated.
The Perception of Love
Have you ever emerged from a relationship with a sense of knowing that you were loved, despite the circumstances that led to its end? It’s a sentiment that resonates with many—an intangible assurance that even if the person may not have loved us in the same way, our belief in their love endures. In these instances, the power of love extends beyond its physical manifestations, becoming an ethereal force that shapes our perceptions and memories.
The Role of Belief
Belief is a potent force, capable of influencing our thoughts, emotions, and actions. When it comes to love, belief becomes a catalyst that transforms the intangible into something deeply personal and meaningful. The act of believing that we were loved, even if the evidence is scarce, transforms the emotion into a truth that resonates within us, shaping our self-perception and emotional well-being.
The Resilience of Love’s Echo
As we reflect on relationships that have passed, it’s important to acknowledge the enduring power of love’s echo. Our belief in having been loved continues to impact us, affecting our self-esteem, our outlook on future connections, and even our capacity to give and receive affection. The knowledge that we were capable of inspiring love, regardless of its duration, becomes a testament to our worthiness of such a profound emotion.
Choosing to Believe
In a world where love’s existence can be fleeting and elusive, the power to choose belief becomes an empowering act. The act of choosing to believe in love’s presence, even in the face of uncertainty, speaks to our capacity to shape our emotional narrative. It’s a testament to our resilience, our capacity for empathy, and our willingness to embrace the intangible connections that define our human experience.
Love Beyond Measure
As we navigate the intricate tapestry of love, we come to realize that its power extends beyond its material manifestations. Love, at its core, is a feeling that resides within us, intertwining with our beliefs, perceptions, and memories. It is a force that can persist even when relationships evolve or fade away, a gentle reminder of our capacity to connect and inspire profound emotions. So, the next time you reflect on a past relationship, remember the unseen power of love—the belief that you were loved, even if the evidence is not readily apparent. It’s a truth that endures, a reminder of your worthiness of love’s embrace. In embracing this belief, you uncover the boundless potential of love’s influence, proving that its presence is felt far beyond the confines of time and circumstance.
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Happy Valentine’s Day
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Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly.
The parent-child bond is one of life’s most intricate and profound relationships. As parents, we watch our children grow, evolve, and strive for independence, all while knowing that they will always be a cherished part of us. In this blog post, I want to share my feelings about my daughter—a remarkable individual who is both a part of me and a unique soul ready to spread her wings.
Part 1: The Desire for Independence
My Daughter, My Heart: From the moment my daughter came into this world, I held her close to my heart. She was, and will always be, a part of me. Yet, as the years passed, I came to understand that part of being a parent is nurturing the desire for independence.
Yearning to Let Go: Like any parent, I want nothing more than for my daughter to find her own path, to let her wings dry and fly away into the world. And I know she wants the same.
Part 2: The Bittersweetness of Farewell
Embracing Change: The thought of her leaving, of not being a part of me, is bittersweet. But I’ve come to realize that it’s a necessary step in her journey of self-discovery and growth.
A Father’s Heart: Deep down, I know I’ll miss her in ways that words can’t express. It’s a testament to the love we share, a love that transcends time and space.
Part 3: Unconditional Love and Support
My Promise to Her: While I want her to go and explore the world, I want her to know that I will always be there when she needs my help. My love and support are unwavering.
Her Happiness Above All: Ultimately, my greatest wish for her is that she finds success, safety, and happiness in this world. I want her to know that my love for her is not contingent upon achievements or expectations.
Conclusion: The Unique Soul She Is
In the end, my daughter is more than just a part of me—she is a unique, beautiful soul with dreams and aspirations all her own. While I want the best for her, I know that what she truly desires is for me to love her for who she is, and that is something I will always do with all my heart. She may be a small piece of me, but she is a shining star in her own right, ready to light up the world with her presence.
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.
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.
What better time than Valentine’s Day to write this love note…
Initially, I wanted to call this post, About A Girl, but decided against it.
I remember I always liked you and others like you. I didn’t know anything about any of you, but there was always an attraction. Especially when you were the focal point. You became very popular in my youth. I always watched from afar as you and the others were in the spotlight.
I always wanted to become better acquainted and learn more about you. But I never was allowed the opportunity. But still, I yearned for years to meet you. I liked you the best because you were so unique. You could do what all the others could do, but you always looked better doing it.
Alas, you were always in the arms of another man.
When I was around 16 I met one like you. I was introduced by a friend. But it just wasn’t the same. However, I was just happy to be learning more about you. Like the song says: “If you can’t be with the one you love. Love the one you’re with.”
It was a learning experience for me. I tried my best to gather as much information about you and those like you. I knew if I could be better I’d somehow win your heart. But I figured I’d cross that bridge when I got to it.
I was happy for a while, but there was still that yearning in my heart. You always want the thing you can’t have. It sounds nuts, but it just makes you want it more.
A few years passed, and things were getting better for me in my relationship with the other, but it just wasn’t you. It wasn’t tearing at my heart or anything, but you were always there. No point to string it along.
I got very busy in my teenage years just growing up and exploring life. I worked through the summer and had a good time at the seashore. I started hanging out with a more experienced group of people and I felt that if I wanted to fit in and tune into my own identity, things needed to change.
So I spoke to an older guy I knew from the community and explained my plight. He was good at fixing things. I suppose you could call him, a machine head. He told me he knew how I could finally meet you. I listened intently and being the wiser man with more experience, I followed his advice. It was time to make a switch.
I’ll never forget the night you finally came down from New York. I’d seen photos of you, and you always seemed to be living such an incredible life. Usually held in the passionate embrace of some rockstar.
But here you were. I went nuts for you.
Even on the walk home together to introduce you to my family, I had to stop and look at you. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
I took you in my arms and told you I’d never let you go. I was surprised at how willing you were to join me on my journey. I had worked so hard on my own to be better, and I felt that I had earned the right to hold you in my arms.
There were others like you. But you were mine, and I loved you for that. When I introduced you to my friends they actually seemed surprised that I could win such a prize as you. But I knew in my heart I had earned the right to be with you. I worked hard on myself and with other people to have you in my life.
I felt so much cooler just having you by my side. Especially when we went out together. That was always a blast. I was surrounded by beauty, but you never got jealous. You knew we were in tune with each other. You knew I wouldn’t bolt, I’d always come home to you.
You were so good to me. The afternoons in my room communicating with each other for hours. You really brought out the best in me. I don’t know if you could say the same, but I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. But you seemed like you enjoyed it. You always went along with whatever I wanted without protest.
I mean, sometimes I was a little sensitive to your feedback, but for the most part, you were always sweet to me. I appreciated your input.
Don’t fret. I love you unconditionally and promised to never leave you.
I’d seen others like you, and some even better discarded by others or broken, and I promised I would never let that happen to you.
We had some of the best times of my life together back then. I’ll never forget them, or you. You were always so loyal. You always stayed by my side even after the party was long over. You never took from me. Only gave. All I needed to do was take good care of you and protect you. And I did fiercely.
There were times another man would ask to dance with you. Even just for a minute. But the answer was always no. Find your own, I would say.
But time passes and life changes. I always loved you but things started to get in the way. Adult things like work and family. But I never neglected you. I know we couldn’t always be together doing the things we enjoyed most in the past, but you were always near. The distant sound of your voice was always with me.
You were never sad. But if I was sad you’d reflect that through your voice and somehow make it beautiful. You said it was a minor thing but it meant a lot to me. You were always a major influence in my life growing up.
Even when I was away from you I was thinking about you. The more we were apart the more I missed you.
I remember I came home one night and found someone had broken into my house. The only thing I cared about was that you were okay. You were fine. They never knew you were there.
I’ve loved a lot in this life. People have come and gone. I’ve had a great time, but you were always there. I could write volumes about you.
I know as time has passed you’ve become more desirable. So many people want you, or something like you. But you can’t put a price on your pretty head. You’re priceless to me. I know initially, I loved you because you were sexy and cool. But like all great relationships they grow and the things that mean more come forth. What you gave to me and helped bring out in me are some of my greatest moments.
You never cheated on me or ever betrayed me. I wasn’t as loyal to you as you were to me, but I needed to take care of other things in my life that mattered at the time. But I never forgot about you.
You always fed my creative spirit all the while making me look good. But you always let the light shine on me. As lovely as you are you simply reflect your beauty onto me. I’ll never forget you for that.
I’m growing older. We’ve been together for over 40 years now. We’re aging as time goes by each year. My hairline recedes and my waistline expands, but you remain as sexy as ever.
You’ve always retained your lovely figure and lovely tone of voice after all these years. I know I did the right thing by keeping you in my life and taking good care of you. You look just as gorgeous as the day I brought you home for the first time back in 1979.
I no longer have the speed and agility I once had in my youth but you’re always ready to get up and go whenever I want. I can always rely on you. You never made me sad. Not one day in my life was I ever sad if you were in my arms.
Just to hold you is magic.
Just to be together alone with you. Our own private conversations. Those moments belong only to us.
It’s been a while, but lately, I’ve had more free time and I’d like us to have fun together again. I know it’s been too long, but you’ve always been so patient with me. I can’t say that you miss me, because maybe you too needed the rest. But you never minded sitting by and waiting for me to come back to you.
It’s been too long. I want to hold you in my arms again. I love you, and I always will.
I’d love to dance and sing with you again.
Not the wild days and nights of our past, but in homage to what we can do when we’re together.
I want to hold you gently in my arms again and caress your lovely neck.
Think of these words as my first love song to you, dear.
1980 – 17 yrs old – Morey’s Pier, Wildwood, NJ
2013 – 50 yrs old – Philadelphia, Pa
2023 – 60 yrs old – Philadelphia, Pa
Thank you for 43 years of joy, Ibanez
A paragon means someone or something that is the very best. The English noun paragon comes from the Italian word paragone, which is a touchstone, a black stone that is used to tell the quality of gold. You rub the gold on the touchstone and you can find out how good the gold is.
It was great dating, Betty. She was the perfect girlfriend. Smoking hot and not around all the time. We were walking on the boardwalk in Wildwood one night. I just loved strolling with her. Holding her hand. Occasionally glancing over at my gorgeous girlfriend or stealing a sweet kiss.
Betty saw this game of chance that had these beautiful plush stuffed animals all around it that you could win. (Or in the case of most games of chance on the boardwalk, NOT win)
“Oh my god. Look at that big white lion, I bet my little Kelly would love that!”
“Yea, those prizes rock because that game is nearly impossible to win. Look at all those people tossing their dimes onto that board. Now watch how the attendant is literally sweeping piles of dimes off the board. They’re raking in thousands of dollars a night. I’ve won lots of stuff on this boardwalk over the years but that game is nearly impossible. They’re selling hope and crushing disappointment all at the same booth!”
“You’re funny, Chaz. Ready to go back to the motel?”
“That’s a game where we both win, Betty. Let’s go.”
I told my friend Pitchy about her. I’d been friends with him since we were 9 years old. He lived around the corner from me down the shore in the Summer. He has always had an incredibly dry wit. I was explaining to him my current romantic situation. Pitch was never a ladies’ man and liked that I always had something interesting going on. In 1984 he was already married and had a baby on the way.
On the boardwalk, there were many games of chance. Most cost a quarter and you bet on a number on a spinning wheel and if your number came up, you won a prize. I was a pretty lucky guy and won many a T-shirt or record album on the boardwalk. I remember winning Iron Maiden, Killers on a wheel one night out front of Morey’s Pier. I just liked the cover. Turned out to be a magnificent metal record that I loved but most of my friends thought was too fast.
But my buddy Pitchy had an incredible skill. A skill that wasn’t really based on chance. I don’t know when he discovered this ability and I’ve never seen it replicated by anyone else in all of my years on that boardwalk. There was a game called The Dime Pitch. This game had been around for decades. Customers would hand the attendant a dollar or two and would be given the appropriate amount of dimes. Which was cool, because it gave you 10 chances to win for only a buck. The way the game works is this. This huge wooden board is in the middle of the floor of the game booth. People toss their dimes onto the board and try to get their dimes on one of the red dots on the board.
But here’s the thing. There are hundreds of them and a lot of spaces in between. You have to throw your dime and get it to land in the very center of the red dot. Not just on the red dot but there has to be red showing all the way around your dime. You’re throwing dimes at this board from 4 to six feet away. They made a fortune on this game because it looks easy, but is nearly impossible. But here’s the thing, with great risk comes great reward. If by some rare chance you got a dime on the red circle and there was red showing all the way around it, the prizes were massive. Not some small trinket from the lower shelf of junk. I’m talking huge plush stuffed animal that any kid would adore. If you were a guy and won a stuffed animal like that and gave it to your kid, or girlfriend, you would be looked upon as a local legend for the night.
Pitchy was so good at this game, they had to ban him from the game. Not entirely, but they had to limit his time at the board because those giant plush animals were expensive. I kid you not. They would restrict him from the game to maybe once a week. They all knew him up there and understood his power.
They feared him.
He and I were up on the boardwalk one night and we were chatting about his special gift. It had gotten to a point where it was no longer a game of chance for Pitchy. It was a revenue generator. He would go to the first dime pitch game and after about 15 minutes he’d win a giant stuffed animal. He knew which ones were the most popular with the tourists. He’d hand it off to me and I’d start walking up the boardwalk with the great beast under my arm.
Within minutes people would be saying things and complimenting me on my prize. I’d always target guys with women with them. I’d respond with the same statement to everyone. “Wanna buy it?”
“How much?”
“Forty bucks and it’s yours.”
“Seems a little high.”
“You’ll spend twice that trying to win a prize like that for her this vacation.”
In the meantime, Pitchy was already at a different dime pitch game and playing. By the time I sold the stuffed animal he’d be approaching me with another one. We’d sell it too and then he’d give me a cut for doing the sales end of the deal. Then we’d go spend the money on beer and pizza.
This was an ongoing grift we worked all summer. I spoke to him about doing me a favor in regard to his special power. I’m sure you can guess what it was by now.
The next time I went over to Betty’s house to hang out with her. I got out of the car and had a little something under my arm for her to leave in her daughter Kelly’s room.
“Chaz! Oh my god! How did you? Where did you?”
“Don’t worry about it, Betty. I got a guy.”
On a final note to this chapter. One night I was over at Betty’s house and the babysitter had brought her daughter Kelly home. She immediately made a beeline to her room to go see her big white lion. I had to hide in a closet across the hall until the coast was clear!
Crazy times, man.
Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly.
You can buy my latest book LAWNDALE on Amazon! It’s stories from my childhood, growing up in Northeast Philly in the 60s and 70s.
I was sitting on the porch at my friend Pitchy’s house and telling him all about my exploits with Betty. He was amazed by the tales of my recent prowess. Pitchy was my best summer friend at the seashore since 1971 when I first met him as a kid. He lived right around the corner from me at 7th and Ocean Ave. We had a rich history together hanging out all of those summers in the 70s. He was a close friend and we’d had some great times together. He had a lovely dry wit that was uncanny. He was also a person I could always trust. One of his gifts was that he had always been the master of the dime toss game on the boardwalk.
But he was never that good at talking to girls. I noticed a lot of young men struggled with that back then. (And even today!) I never understood that but I guess we’re always good at things we like, and I loved the company of pretty women so I was okay.
I would tell him… “If you think you’re going to be tongue-tied on a date with a girl… take her to the movies. That’s two hours right there where she’ll be entertained and fed. You don’t have to say or do anything at all. Just hold her hand during the picture. If the film is fun and exciting, she’ll associate those feelings with you and you’ll be fine.”
Pitchy was working as a summer cop in North Wildwood by 1984 and really enjoyed police work. He had always wanted to be a cop and was beginning his career as a summer cop to gain experience.
I’m happy to say that through the years, he stayed in law enforcement and became a roaring success. He achieved success beyond anything I could have imagined for him.
We sat on his porch in the quiet evening silence of North Wildwood. All the craziness was happening 25 blocks away on the boardwalk and in the clubs on Pacific Avenue. But we both had a moment of repose from our jobs this evening and were just chatting and sipping a few cold beers. The glow of the neon signs from the motel, The Friendship 7 across the street was the only light that illuminated our presence on that porch.
He would do these comedy bits like he was the voiceover guy for a movie preview. It was hilarious and I loved when he would come up with these things. It was like he was describing me as a character in a horror movie. He would say; “In 1980 you loved him as the Wildwood Gigalo. But now…he’s back. It’s been four years… but he’s back. Chaz is… THE HOMEWRECKER. This time it’s not your girlfriend…It’s Your WIFE!”
I liked that he referred to me as the homewrecker as if I were the villain in a movie. So funny. I told him how Betty drove a light blue BMW 5 and that she and I stayed in motels in Wildwood to hook up. I never thought back then how much Betty must have spent on babysitting fees for someone to watch her daughter, Kelly while she galavanted around Wildwood with her young boy toy, ten years her junior.
But as much as I had built up a reputation as a rocker and charmer of women, it was nice to reach that legendary status with my friends. It’s all so silly when I think about it now.
I’d be on the phone with Betty.
“I want to come to Wildwood to see you this weekend, Chaz.”
“That would be great, Bets.”
“Can you maybe rent a room for us?”
Because the season hadn’t started yet, the rooms would not only be available at several motels in town, they’d be much cheaper.
This became a regular thing with Betty and me. She liked her anonymity in Wildwood. She had no fear of running into anyone she and her husband knew up in Absecon. Plus, she had that whole rule about not having sex with her in her house, car, or matrimonial bed.
I was totally fine with it. I was working and had money to burn, and Betty always had cash. Most times she would pay for everything. I remember one day I was at her house and she gave me a brand new Gucci watch. It was beautiful. A 14k gold timepiece with a lizard skin strap. I wore that watch until the strap practically dissolved on my wrist. I loved that watch. It was the nicest piece of jewelry I had ever owned.
At this point, I wasn’t falling for Betty…
I had already fallen.
I always shared with my mother what I was up to romantically in my life. I would sit at the kitchen table chatting with my mom and profess my love for my new, older girlfriend. I told my mom I was done dating girls and only wanted to date women now.
“Oh, you mean that alley cat you’re currently running around with?”
Mom did not approve. I think she had some concerns about the seed not falling far from the tree in this family. She had already had enough of my father’s many dalliances and probably feared I was becoming like him. On the other hand, I know my dad secretly loved the idea of his son capturing the heart of such a lovely woman that was in his wheelhouse.
(This polaroid was taken in a little photo booth in an arcade on the Wildwood boardwalk. It was her idea. I’m so glad we did this. I was so happy.)
We stayed in several different motels that spring and it was awesome. We once stayed in a motel that was right on the corner of 8th and Surf Ave. That was around 100 yards from my parent’s house! Crazy night!
We’d do fun things like go to the boardwalk, and it was amazing. Going out to eat and just spending time together. I just loved being with Betty. I know she enjoyed my company too because I think I helped her retain her youth and show her how fun it was to date again. I think she needed that in her broken marriage.
The passion we shared.
I remember we once pulled up at a motel where one of my friends was working as a lifeguard and I introduced her to him. Betty Ann stepped out of the car in a white mini-dress. Her caramel skin glowed in the sun and her raven tresses tumbled over her shoulders like a moonless river.
I didn’t really hang out with this guy/clown anymore. He had burned too many bridges with me by then. I really did it just to show off my spectacular girlfriend to him. He later told me that if he ever got a girl like that he would never let her go, but I knew by then I was now operating at a level that he’d never understand, or ever be able to achieve.
I was so proud to be with such a beautiful, sweet woman. Just kissing Betty was like waking up on Christmas morning. We’d kiss, and she always ended it with a little extra peck on the side of my lips. It was like she was putting her signature on that last kiss… just to remind me I was hers.
But no matter what we did during the afternoon on our dates, it was all simply delaying the inevitable. We always ended up back in the room…and back in the saddle.
(Cue up: Aerosmith – Rocks – Side 1, Track 1)
One night, we stayed in a motel on New Jersey Avenue. As summer approached it was getting harder to find available reasonably priced rooms. But it was a nice place, and of course, at the end of our fun day we ended up back there. I remember it being especially hot outside, and the air conditioner was right over the bed. It kept us cool while we passionately tore each other to pieces like teenagers through the night.
The next morning we walked out to the car and there was a piece of paper clipped under the windshield wiper. It looked like a ticket.
It was an official warning from the police.
The notice stated that we had violated the local noise ordinance in North Wildwood. It said that neighbors were complaining about the loud sounds of, “Moaning, Screaming, and a Squeaking Bed… Nonstop”.
I was obviously stunned, and Betty was horrified.
But as I read down toward the bottom, I recognized the name of the officer who had issued the warning last night. It was my buddy, Pitchy. He knew I was staying there and recognized Betty’s BMW.
Nice shot, dude.
(I may still have that warning ticket packed away somewhere!)
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I called Betty and assured her I was on my way. I had the necessary videos on the front seat of my car.
Betty lived in a nice house in a lovely neighborhood in Absecon. As I pulled into the development, it was as if they had simply poured asphalt into the shape of a road through the woods and dropped a few elegant houses in there.
I parked away from the property and approached her house. (What if something crazy happens and I have to make a quick getaway?)
Betty Knight. The prettiest lady that came in our video store. How was this different from California? Those days in the early 80s were full of debauchery and recklessness. I was back. But I lived with my parents for god’s sake. I failed out there in L.A. My career or, my imagined career in music was already over. Why? How did that happen? All I ever wanted was to be a rockstar and now here I am.
I sang in a band in Philly, played guitar in a band in Wildwood, and played more rock in L.A., and none of it amounted to anything. My favorite thing in the world wasn’t going to happen to me. What was to be my fate now? Was I just a leaf cast upon the winds of my whims and dreams only to be cast asunder in some grinding domestic life from now on?
But all of the magic things happened in the summer of 1977, 1980, and 1983. I was on a 3-year success cycle there. What happened? It’s 1984, and I thought my luck had run out. My transformation was over. I’ve had my laughs and had my fun with all the girls, I need to buckle down and fly right.
But here I am. Walking up the pathway to this lady’s house. This stranger. This beautiful woman that looks like a Mayan queen and smells like the first day of spring. No matter what I do I always end up here. Walking up to the next adventure. The next extraordinary affair in my life. Why do I keep doing this? Maybe it’s not me, and it’s the forces trying to get me back on track as to where I’m supposed to be.
(This is her front porch. What’s behind the Green Door?)
I was nothing in the ’70s. Then I rose up. But there were those who seemed superior to me. Undoubtedly these things had been allotted to the beautiful, the athletic, and those with clear skin. This stuff was for them. Not a loser like me.
But here she is. I’m at her house. Not a girl. Not some teenager hanging at my side by the pinball machine. This was a woman. 10 years my senior. For some reason, she’s chosen me. It can’t really be happening.
Is my co-worker Tyrone some sort of cupid or even a wizard in matters of love?
I didn’t know what love was back then. Any love I ever felt for anyone came at a price. Whether it was scorn or the sweetest touch of a hand in mine.
I knocked on the door. There’s the moment. You’ve made a sound. Has it been received? There is nothing in the world right now but you and your waiting.
Do you knock again?
No.
Wait.
Knock again. Use the brass knocker on the door this time, buster.
I can’t believe I’m standing here right now. In this neighborhood, knocking on this customer’s door. I look down at the two plastic tape cases in my hand. Rod Stewart and Eddie and the Cruisers on Beta.
The door opens.
Betty is dressed in casual clothes. Light blue button-down blouse and jeans with white Keds. Those dark eyes and raven mane though…
Nothing alarming here. Gotta stay cool. She welcomes me into her home.
She’s lovely and relaxed. I on the other hand am a cluster of nerves and anxiety. I almost can’t describe the feeling. It’s as if I’ve been the miraculous winner of some exotic lottery.
We exchange pleasantries and I set the vids on the table. Her house is how one would picture the home of what appears to be a wealthy person. I know she drives a light blue BMW 5 series, but I don’t know what Betty does for a living.
She takes me on a tour of her house. It’s clean, neat, and nicely appointed, but nothing that points to extravagance. But it’s a really nice house in a very nice neighborhood. We go down a flight of stairs that lead to the basement. Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean the basement in some John Carpenter film, it’s a finished basement. As we head down the steps I see some framed photos that appear to have been taken at the Grand Prix. This part of the house is giving me a strong male vibe here. We walk through a finished playroom area complete with a bar and pool table. Spider sense is tingling like mad now.
“Well, I guess you know I’m married.”
“Umm… No, I didn’t. I hadn’t thought of that, Betty.”
To be honest, if a lady is renting little mermaid videos she obviously has a little daughter. If she has a little daughter, she might be married. But in my blind desire for her back at the store, I can honestly say I didn’t think about any of that. I know I should have, but at that age, I only saw what was before me and what I liked and wanted. I think that’s simply a trait of youth. You act before you think of the repercussions of your decisions. I know I did that well into my 40’s! You want what you want when you want it, and nothing is going to stop you from getting it. You only see the end goal and not all the hazards along the way to your destination.
“My husband, Dick works at the Showboat Casino.”
“Is he in the mob?”
“Oh gosh, no. I wish everybody would stop assuming that just because someone works at the executive level in a casino they’re associated with the mafia.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. Follow me.”
Betty then takes me into the laundry room. (Is this where I get murdered and no one ever hears from me again?) I doubt it. Betty is 5’3″ and 100 lbs. She reaches into the dryer and pulls out a man’s dress shirt. She holds out the collar to me.
“Look at this.”
“Okay… Hmm…”
“What does that look like to you?”
“That looks like lipstick, Betty.”
“Yea. The lipstick on your collar always tells the tale on you.”
“I suppose so… I wouldn’t…”
“And look at this.” She reaches behind a cup on the shelf above the washer and produces what appears to be a woman’s earring.
“I found that in his car.”
Things don’t look good for Dick at this point. Who named Richard goes by the name Dick anyway? I would love to know the question’s when, how, and why.
“Wow.”
“Yea, what does all of that make you think of?”
“Well if that’s not your earring and that smear on the collar of his shirt is clearly not your color, I’d say your husband is probably cheating you, Betty.”
“Yep. That son of a bitch.”
Clearly, she’s pissed.
Why is she showing me all of this so early in our first meeting? It’s as if a message and a motive need to be sent. As nervous as I am at this moment, I kind of like the rush and intrigue of my current situation. I don’t know why, but I’ve always been like this. The nice innocent guy who is somehow drawn into the darker aspects of existence. This is a precarious position I’m in and the bigger question is… where is Dick right now? Cheater or not, I’m in the basement of the guy’s house with his wife right now. I don’t know where the escape routes or heavy sharp objects are in the house. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
“Where is he right now?”
“He’s in Chicago on business until Tuesday.”
(Sigh of relief.) Oh… okay. Well, I’m sorry this is happening to you, Betty. You seem like a really nice lady.”
“I am, but I should have expected something like this to eventually happen. Let’s go back upstairs. Would you like a beer?”
“That would be awesome.” (Alcohol would be the perfect remedy for my nerves right now.)
We get up to the brightly lit kitchen. “When you said you should have expected this, what did you mean?”
She takes a bottle of Heineken from the fridge and pops the cap. Pouring it slowly into a pilsner glass I notice how dainty her hands are and how lovely her vermillion nails are. “Well, that’s how I met Dick. A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”
“Go on…”
“I was his secretary. He was married before. I worked for him in my early twenties and he started having an affair with me.”
“He left his wife and married you?”
“Yep. So I suppose I should have seen this coming. Maybe he’s tired of me now that I’m 32. I wonder who he’s fooling around with this time.”
Her sadness mixed with betrayal and scorn flashed before me. She’s so beautiful and perfect that I can’t imagine a man wanting anything but her. But I was young. I’m jaded from being in bands and living in L.A. for a couple of years, but youth is still a place I can’t escape. I take a deep swig from the ice-cold beer for solace.
“I’m sorry, Betty. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to tell me how you’re feeling.” (I’m navigating new waters at this point.)
“Yea… Hey, come look at my cul-de-sac. I love my cul-de-sac.”
Okay, at this point I have no idea what a cul-de-sac is. Is it french for some sort of sexual thing? No. Can’t be. Is it something in the house? I’m lost here. I had heard the word but never knew what it meant or what it was.
She walks me over to the kitchen sink. I look down. Okay… drain, spigot, dish sprayer thing. What am I supposed to be looking at?
She points out the window over the sink. “Look. Isn’t that a lovely cul-de-sac?”
All I see out there is the end of a street surrounded by other nice houses in a circle with no apparent exit. It’s just a street that ends with no passage. I’m confused but I have to play along. I look intently out the window at the view. “Well, I must say, Betty… that’s about the best-looking cul-de-sac I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“I know, right?”
But as I turn around and away from the window, Betty is standing right there in front of me. Like, right there. Like six inches in front of me. My heart quickens as I look into her dark eyes. I can feel the familiar searing burst of warm color that explodes in my mind and heart.
This is ignition.
I set my glass on the counter and kiss her lips. It feels like I’ve kissed her before. But it’s brand new. But there’s a friendly familiarity to her kiss. We fit naturally together like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be in the universe right now. I take her in my arms and we kiss deeply. It’s amazing. I’ve been kissing girls all of my life. but now I’m kissing a woman. A beautiful, exquisite, experienced woman. My god, she’s beautiful. If Dick walks in here right now and shoots me dead, I’ll die willingly knowing the last thing I ever did in this life was to kiss this lovely woman.
The kiss comes to a conclusion and she hugs me tightly. She smells incredible. What is that fragrance? Is that Red Door? I don’t know. I can’t think straight. There’s too much dopamine firing in my brain. I lean back on the counter and look at her. She smiles and her eyes twinkle as she tosses her raven mane to the side. My god… what did I do to deserve this moment?
Instant love.
“You’re cute, Chaz. I like you. Bonus points for being a great kisser.”
I blush like mad and look down. “I always liked you, Betty. Ever since the first time you came into the store. You were my favorite. You’re the prettiest girl that comes in the store. I’m glad Tyrone said something to you now.”
I didn’t know it at the time, but this is probably what she needed to hear from her husband. She was over 30 and had a 5-year-old daughter now. No longer the spring chicken she was when she met her husband. No longer the forbidden fruit that he spent time with at the office every day. Most men never leave their wives for the mistress, but this guy did, and then cheated again.
“I always thought you were cute and nice, Chaz.” Get your beer. Let’s go into the living room. and watch a movie.”
We watched Eddie and the Cruisers. It is a cool story, with a great soundtrack, but is a cliche-ridden mess. But I didn’t care, I was just happy to be sitting on the couch with this pretty lady. There were more beers drank and more sweet kisses stolen.
We watched some of the Rod Stewart video because she loved him. Most girls from that generation loved Rod Stewart. I never understood it, and neither did my mother. “What do they see in that skinny big nosed Scotsman?” she would say. But what was happening here now was no place for thoughts about my mom.
After some cuddling on the couch and more kisses, it was time to wrap up the day. I smooched her one more time before opening her door and making my departure. We planned on getting together soon, and I didn’t ask any questions. It was her movie and I was merely an actor in this one. A very willing actor.
I think this was an audition for me. Betty wanted to see what I was like outside of the store. She felt comfortable enough to bring me to her home, so at least there was that. But would I get a lead role in this affair?
Only time would tell.
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Here’s an unfinished fiction series I once started to write. I wanted a series that was 5 minutes, 5 hours, 5 days, 5 months, and 5 years. But I never made it past 5 minutes. It sat in my drafts for years, so here it is.
The name’s Erik. I’m a photographer. I shoot mostly fashion stuff for magazines and shows. I’m out on assignment today. We’re on a boat somewhere west of Australia. It’s a beautiful day. I’m doing a shoot for a new swimsuit line worn by model Alessandra Ambrosio.
I work with models all of the time. After a while, it’s like working in a bank. You’re surrounded by millions of dollars in cash, but after a while, it’s just the thing you work with every day. It’s not yours, and it’s just business. All of the women are beautiful. Probably some of the most beautiful women in the world. But it’s just a job like any other. You work, you hope you get the right shots, and you get paid. Sometimes you put in long hours. The travel wears you out, and life on the road gets lonely.
What concerns me today is the skipper was complaining that the port engine on this 1996, 37-foot flybridge motor yacht just wasn’t right; the gas engine was running rough and losing power. Something about loose valves or pistons. He’s below now taking a look at it.
It’s just the four of us out here. Me, the captain, Alessandra, and her makeup artist, Sidney.
Out of all of the models I’ve ever worked with, Ale’ has always been my favorite. She’s a sweet woman with a great sense of humor. Always on point and ready to work despite her fame.
Right now I’m out on the bow with her. She’s wearing a lovely multi-colored bikini. My Nikon D3X Digital SLR camera is clicking away. These shots are going to be great. They better be. This baby cost me seven grand.
“Sidney! Can you help me out a sec?” The captain shouts from below. Sidney rolls his eyes and heads to the back of the boat. “Coming!”
I turn my attention back to Alessandra. “Ok, dear. Give me a little smile. Turn. Little more to the left. Okay, look up just slightly. Perfect.”
Out of nowhere, there’s an explosion. Ale’s eyes were wide as she clutches the grab rail on the bow. I fall backward onto the deck. “What the hell?” she exclaims.
That’s when the screaming began. Screaming from below deck. Screaming I’ll never forget. It was the captain.
“Fire! The boat’s on fire!” Alessandra cried.
I looked backward, still reeling from the shock. Flames burst forth from the hold in the back of the boat. I scrambled to my feet. I glanced back at Alessandra. “Stay here.”
This was a fuel fire. I could smell it. Large billows of black smoke poured skyward from the flames. I could hear them screaming, but I couldn’t get to them. The heat was so intense. I clambered to the bridge looking for a fire extinguisher. I got inside and looked wildly about. Then I saw it. The metal hook on the wall to where the fire extinguisher was supposed to be but wasn’t.
I went towards the helm. I located the distress button and lifted the cover. I pressed and held the button until it beeped. Hopefully, the DSC signal will tell the Coast Guard the ship’s information. I grabbed the radio. “Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is the Lady Louise! We’re on fire!”
I could feel the panic clutching me like a giant claw. I couldn’t give a location. I didn’t even know where the hell we were!
God, it’s getting hot in here. The heat is taking me and I can’t stop coughing. Smoke is filling the cabin. I looked out the windshield at Ale’. She had a terrified grimace of mute protest on her beautiful visage. A look I had never seen before. Then she said something I wished I’d never heard.
“We’re sinking!”
I grabbed what I could and threw it in my bag. Then reached for the only two things that could keep us from dying here in the next few minutes. I scrambled out the side door of the cabin. The flames licked my left arm. Searing it instantly. I screamed in pain and made my way toward Ale’.
The boat was going down, and the screaming from below had stopped. The thought turned my stomach. Hopefully, they didn’t burn to death and the smoke took them instead.
“Put this on.” I could see the tears streaming down her cheeks and her lower lip quiver as she put on the bright orange life jacket. She snapped it in place. She was hyperventilating. I grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her. “We’re going to be okay, honey. We’re going to get out of this.”
“Are we going to die?” She squeaked.
“No!”
“What about Sidney and Captain Pike?”
“They’re dead. We have to go.”
She started crying more, but then suddenly stopped. “Wait. Look!” She pointed behind me. I wheeled around. Strapped in a rack at the foot of the bridge was what appeared to be an inflatable raft and two oars. I yanked it out. “How are we going to get it inflated in time?” she said.
“With this.” I affixed the CO2 cartridge into the nozzle. Thankfully it began to inflate. The ship was now tilting to the side. Lady Louise was going down for the last time. But we were going to get out of this if we could just get off her and into the raft.
“Alessandra. I need you to listen to me. I’m going to lash this raft to the side of the boat here. Then I’m going to throw it overboard. I’m going to drop this bag here into the raft. Then I’m going to go in. I’m going to ask you to then untie the raft and jump. I’ll catch you. I promise.”
“What about women and children first?”
“Just do it, Ale’!”
The raft went into the water. Followed by my bag containing my camera and what supplies and tools I grabbed from the cabin. I then climbed down and dropped into the raft. I looked up at her crouching on the deck. “Okay, Ale’. Come on!”
She was about to climb over when she suddenly hesitated, glancing backward. “What are you waiting for? Come on!”
“One sec.” She said, holding up her perfectly manicured index finger.
Then she was gone. Just the sun glinting in my eyes as I looked upward. “Ale’! Come back! What are you doing? They’re dead! You can’t do anything. We have to go! Please!
Suddenly she reappeared, coughing and gasping. “Here. Catch.” A huge duffel bag landed on me, knocking me to the floor of the raft.” I pushed it to the side, as it was followed by the slender 5’9″ 119 lb frame of a global supermodel. She fell into my arms as I broke her fall. Her face was inches from mine for a moment. She didn’t move. Her breath came in short gasps of fear.
“Jesus, You scared the hell out of me, Ale’. You could have been killed running back for that!” She could sense the anger mixed with terror in my voice as I gazed into her lovely feline eyes.
“What? If you’re entitled to one carry-on bag, then so am I,” she said, rolling off me.
I just shook my head but was somewhat relieved. The raft drifted away from the sinking Lady Louise. She was engulfed in flames now. Maybe someone will see the column of black smoke that poured from her, I thought. We both watched as she disappeared beneath the waves. The ocean hissed, mocking us. Extinguishing the flames in a final puff of smoke.
“Grab an oar. I’ll try to get our bearings as to where we are.” I said, looking around. I squinted in the hot sun.
Ale’ scanned the horizon. “Look!”She turned toward me. “Land! See it?” She pointed to what appeared to be a small island in the distance to our west. She grabbed an oar and locked it in place. I did the same. “Well, let’s hope there are people there that can help us.”
So here I am. Out in the middle of the ocean. Miles from the mainland of Australia with a gorgeous, international supermodel. Possibly one of the most beautiful women in the world. Here we are. Shoulder to shoulder, paddling an inflatable orange raft to who knows where.
Should I finish this? Let me know in the comments if you think it’s worth pursuing!
(If you click on the link of her name in the story above you can read the blog post from a few years ago when I met her in New York!)
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My uncle Jack used to work for Columbia Records back in the 60s. He was a well-known producer and had lots of connections in the music industry. When I lived in Los Angeles in the early 80s he was out there on business and called me to meet up with him for lunch.
I was happy to meet up with him. It would be nice to not only see a member of my family because it was my first time far away from home. But also because he was my favorite uncle. He was a brilliant guy with a lightning-fast wit. He was an easy-going dude that everybody liked.
I drove out to Century City in my 1969 VW minibus to meet him for lunch. We were joined by the former president of Columbia Records who was a buddy of my uncle’s. I remember it was cool to hang out with these guys and listen to their stories of the glory days of popular music in the 60s.
During his time in the business, my uncle met many musicians and celebrities like Andy Williams, and Barbra Streisand.
One story that stand out in my mind is when his buddy told a story about how the Jefferson Airplane had recorded a demo for Columbia and they didn’t like it and turned it down flat for a record deal. He said one of the guys in the band urinated into the planter in the corner of his office upon hearing the news. He said they later signed with RCA Victor and got an unheard of $25k advance to get on board with them. (which was a fortune in 1965) “They were a bunch of crazy people.” he said about the band.
Anyway, I always loved my uncle and still miss his wry wit to this day. But back to the story at hand.
Because my uncle was in the industry he would be given lots of vinyl demo albums to check out and review. Anything that was popular or mainstream he could relate to, but when he was given anything relating to classical music or opera, he would give them to his brother.
Which was my father. My dad loved classical music and opera and it was probably his favorite kind of music. Since my uncle was clueless to that kind of music he’d pass them to my dad to give him the lowdown on each orchestra and album.
This went on for many years and my dad got loads of free music to add to his collection. As a kid, I always wondered why on many of his record albums there was always a red stamp on the back. It read: “Not for Sale. This album is for demonstration purposes only.” Those were the ones my uncle gave him. If for some reason there was some unknown rock band in one of the many albums he gave him, my dad would pass it to me. Even as far forward as the late 70s. I remember my dad handing me the soundtrack to the animated film, Heavy Metal based on the comic magazine. It’s where I first heard the song, Mob Rules by Black Sabbath. There was even a record that consisted of a collection of songs by different artists, and one of them was a really old recording from the German metal band Scorpions (Whom I loved) it was a song called “Am I Going Mad?” from the album Lonesome Crow, which I didn’t even know existed back then.
Anyway, back in 1968, my uncle was chatting with my dad about music, and an interesting question came up. He said he had a buddy over at Decca Records that was working with a somewhat popular band from the UK. The group had been generating some buzz as an up-and-coming mod/rock band. They were trying to find their voice and identity and had released a few small hits.
Back in the 50s and early 60s, bands and singers only released singles. Short songs that were never longer than 3 minutes long. If that artist had generated enough popular songs in a period of time, the label l would put the songs out as a collection on an LP.
But the Beatles changed all that when they started to release albums of all-new material. No longer would albums be collections of hits but bonafide creative works of music.
But the main guy in the band over at Decca was a brilliant songwriter and wanted to take his band’s music to the next level. He came up with a unique concept. He ran the idea and played a few songs for his producer. It was a groundbreaking idea for an album that hadn’t ever been done before.
The producer over at Decca ran the idea by my uncle to get his thoughts on the subject. He of course spoke to his brother, (my dad) about it. My father listened intently to the idea and gave him this response:
“Do they have a libretto?”
“A what?”
“A libretto. Every opera has a libretto. It’s the text and the substantive ideas that inspire the composition, including the dramatic structure, characters and scenario of the opera.“
“Okay…”
“Well, tell your friend that if this band is going to do some kind of opera, they’ll need a libretto so when people buy the record they can read along and know what’s going on with the story of the songs even if it’s in a different language.”
So my uncle goes back and tells all of this to his buddy over at Decca, and he tells the guy in the band who’s writing the album. He loves the idea and they decide to include a libretto with the new album. My uncle tells my dad and he’s happy he was able to help out based on his expertise with classical music and opera.
“By the way, Jack, what’s the opera about?”
“It’s about a deaf, mute, and blind boy who is abused as a child and becomes an incredible player at the game of pinball.”
“Okay, well that seems a little weird, but I hope they have success with that. Glad I could help.”
My dad obviously got a free demo copy of the album before it came out and turned me on to this incredible band and their music.
So my father had something to do with the creation of Tommy by The Who.
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