Introduction, BOOM

Three bombs were dropped ending the Second World War.  The first two were atomic, I was the third.  Yes, I was the opening salvo of the Baby Boom which didn’t officially start until some months later.  My dad had been in the European theatre which probably allowed him to sneak home just a bit early to begin work on the population explosion that was soon to come.

This is not an autobiography as those are merely collections of possible truths strung together with lies and fabrications.  I will tell you up front that all of the stories you are about to read are true.  At least in my mind they are true.  All of these stories began as actual events which were as true as reality can make them.  The retelling of stories is where memories begin interpreting the actual events to put them in context.  During this process certain distortions can creep in.

Some distortions may involve the combining of two separate funny events into one hilarious story.  Others are perhaps just errors in memory.  Ask three eye witnesses to an accident and you will undoubtedly have three different versions of what took place.   At a recent funeral service a rabbi was making a point, which I forget, but he said, “Ask three Jews what happened and you will get six different opinions.”  Ask an Irish Catholic that same question and you will get some variation of, "It wasn't my fault."  In any case, these are my stories and I will stick by my efforts to tell them as accurately as possible given the frailties of memory. 

These stories will cover the interesting part of my life.  Most of which could also be referred to as the irresponsible part of my life.  Once you are responsible things may be amusing but they are rarely funny or interesting.  My first decade walking this planet wasn’t funny or interesting.  We will skip that part.  Actually the first decade was spent growing up in a neighborhood that was anything but funny.  Two of the neighborhood kids, Ken and Barry-Lynn, were struck with polio and were crippled for life.  Tommy moved away and was later thrown through the windshield of a car and seriously injured.  Billy was killed in a plane crash along with his mother, brother and pregnant sister in law.  Nelson, who lived at the end of our block, became the victim of the first murder in Biscayne Park.  I don't remember their ever being a second.  I guess we didn’t really totally skip that part.

I will tell my stories in loose chronological order.  It will help me to remember them that way and perhaps make them an easier read.  Undoubtedly, some stories will fall out of order.  Life and memories are like that.