the road to Beauford

The journey actually started the day before in the town of Mattapoisett, Massachusetts. 

I don’t remember much from that time in my life but since I recently heard Mason Williams’ Classical Gas, I’ve been thinking about it…and I would much rather not.

About four months before this evening I resigned myself to the fact that I was going into the Army and was heading up to Boston to take my physical and then off to training camp.

The night before I had a few beers and then went home early.

The next morning I arrived at the Boston Navy Yard and was soon taking all kinds of tests to determine my fitness to serve.

Last up was my blood pressure.  I was told my pressure was too high and that I was to return in about four months to take further tests. Fast forward to this evening.  I thought if I was to drink and partake in other activities lasting through the early hours of the morning … what then would my body tell the draft board.

I will always remember the song that was playing on the radio of this tulip’s car as we left the Inn. 

 Classical Gas by Mason Williams


Next stop a dive bar in Fairhaven at closing time and the bartender greets us saying I’m closing and you guys are loaded.  There was one other person sitting at the bar.

 My lovely date says to the bartender…if you don’t give us a drink I’m going to drag this sorry fuck onto the bar and fuck the shit out of him…I believe we got several drinks.

I think the evening/morning ended around 4:00 AM, and I was on the bus going back to Boston at 7:00 AM.

Went through all the tests again and finally got to blood pressure.  

The way I figure it I was still loaded and my pressure had dropped to ” a welcome to the Army” level.

The next stop was a warehouse with about 500 guys in formation.  The voice went through the first 200 or so with,… step forward after your name and as the branch of service is stated … in the early 200s a name came up … step forward …US Marine Corps…the guy almost passed out.  It went on for another 150 or so then … Daniel N Carney United States Marine Corps … I didn’t step forward but said …hey I’m going into the Army.  Within seconds a 6’4″ Marine Staff Sergent was standing next to me and convinced me to step forward.

Only three out of this 500 or so guys were drafted into the Marines.

Hours later I was headed to Beauford, South Carolina.

On a train in a private compartment shared with the 3rd draftee.  We stopped briefly in Washington DC and then were transferred to a bus.

The stop in DC was interesting but because I was still in shock I just don’t remember much…or for that matter of the bus ride to Beauford … but I do remember this …

April 4, 1968, Beauford South Carolina.

Heading into Parris Island the bus driver yells out they just killed the fucking nigger!  The bus erupted in cheers…save the 3rd draftee, a drafted jew from New York, and me.

Needless to say, I was not looking forward to the next 13 weeks.

Up soon, my 8-week weight loss program and the road to Head Quarters Marine Corps, Henderson Hall, Washington, D.C.




Posted in America, Music, Stories, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Coming to America

It is unfortunate that some people will be offended by what follows…believe me I am offended by what certain groups are doing to my country.

Call me white privileged…one who started a company in my upstairs bedroom writing proposal after proposal to town officials and spending 3/4 nights out a week for two years trying to convince them to choose my company … and then going to work at 7 AM.  Ya I’m white privileged.

And so it goes…

A series of anti-poverty billboards sponsored by a black conservative group urges young people to finish school, get a job, get married and save money, but apparently, that advice was too inflammatory for Milwaukee.

The “Tired of Poverty” billboards, part of the Center for Urban Renewal and Education’s “Success Sequence” campaign, were removed this week by Clear Channel Outdoor after complaints about the message, which one local woman described as an “attack.”

The four billboards featured photos of young Black people with the message, “Tired of Poverty? Finish school. Take Any Job. Get Married. Save & Invest. Give Back to Your Neighborhood.”  

Those that have stopped reading sorry…but tell me what is wrong with this message and why isn’t Lebron James talking about this.

A friend of mine, I don’t have many, owns a business that serves the public.  He has several locations throughout Southeast Massachusetts.  At his flagship location, he has employed members from a Lebanese family.  They came to the states with nothing.  One son worked 40-50 hours a week and then attended night school and eventually got his law degree.  A daughter has been with him for 9 years, she works 65 hours a week while getting her master’s degree.  They work hard and recognize that getting an education is a key to succeed in America…and I might add they all live together in a house they bought with cash.

Oh ya, this white privileged friend works 6/7 days a week sometimes… when not working on a Sunday…always on call.

Mary has worked with many nurses of color from the Caribbean.  They too came here with nothing and recognized that getting an education and hard work would advance their career. 

Don’t you think those kids that are killing each other in Chicago would listen to James or some other successful black person?  No politician in the world could do that or for that matter should even try.

Ya gotta have a horse in the race.  No one should get anything without some sweat and tears.

We all know what’s coming up and I hope that those of you here in the States vote… for there are thousands of men and women that have given their lives so that we can.

God bless America the greatest country on this earth.

Credits to the Washington Times

Posted in America, Government, Politics, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

the last waltz

the last waltz


it was a long time ago and i have watched the show “lost count” times.   tonight i am at it again 

i don’t know how many people were at the live show but no doubt thousands more claim they were there 

oh no you don’t know the shape

i’m in 

i’m thinking that anyone under 40 maybe 50 has never experienced one of scorsese’s best 

it makes no difference

if the sun don’t shine anymore 

the doctor was in the house

such a night 

if i don’t do it

somebody else will 

there is a town in

north ontario

helpless, helpless, helpless 

see the man with the stage fright

take a load off annie   and put the load on


give me that old-time religion

the night they drove old dixie down 

just like you are marching off to war

come dry your eyes 

still feel alone 

that coyote is at the door

prisoner of the white lines 

train gonna ride all night long 

manis man

5 minutes time

hoochie coochie man 

if you mistreat someone

someone will mistreat you 

evangeline, evangeline

ophelia, ophelia 

on the radio

turn it up     radio 

oh man 

my god bless you and keep you 

and may you stay forever young

forever young 

can i come home with you

i’ll do anything in this 

god almighty world

if i can follow you down 

i see my light come shining

any day now i shall be released



oh no you don’t know the shape i’m in




Can you match the lyrics to an artist?

Posted in America, Movies, Music, Uncategorized | Leave a comment


The haunting torment of memories, not forgotten…where youthful innocence disappears forever …only to prompt a regretted confession that delivers an empty explanation of the curse men at war endure. 

It is my understanding that most combatives that survive war do not talk about what they did and the horrors they witnessed.  The ones that do usually open up to just one person and when all is said the memories continue to torment and the confession regretted. 

Though not public knowledge, KOS meant kill on sight for the British army during the “troubles” in Ireland.  The man that orchestrated the Mountjoy prison helicopter escape and the robbery of art worth of millions of dollars from the Russborough House was designated a KOS target.

I revisit this story because a friend of mine called me after reading “a day to confess” and asked me some pointed questions.  The last two were “what name does he go by and where does he live?”  I paused for what seemed to be a long time and said I don’t think I should tell you… for reasons left unsaid.  I was serious.  Over the years I never thought of the consequences of revealing his identity, but I do now.

I’m sure he would do anything to keep his past buried under time.

After the call, I went online to see if he was on any of the social networks.  It didn’t take me long to find him.  Two pictures jumped out, one with his wife and the other alone.  His smile was warm but his eyes were like ice.  I have no doubt that this wife still doesn’t know his true identity.

For those that haven’t read about him “a day to confess” follows.  It is a true story only the names have been changed. 

Just click on the date it was written and your thoughts and comments are welcome.

A day to confess

Posted in Art, Ireland, Politics, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Read a good book lately?

While in Ireland I spent a good deal of time reading for myself and reading children’s books for Mae and Dan.

Mae is fascinated by a book about Donald Duck’s adventures.  The book is quite big and it is in German, and I can’t read German so it forces you to make up stories about what is depicted on the pages.  I hate it and try to hide it but she eventually finds it buried somewhere.

Another one she likes is Calvin and Hobbes.  certainly not a kids’ book and more often than not I don’t understand some of the cartoons.

I only hope her love of books continues and as she does Dan follows suit.

Someone sent me a link to a woman reading the above children’s book. I don’t think I have stopped laughing and have probably watched the video 5 or 6 times.

Just keep in mind this is a children’s book. 27, 2020  Brendas Beaver Needs A Barber. Adolph Oosthuizen. Loading… Unsubscribe from Adolph Oosthuizen? Cancel Unsubscribe. Working.


Come on now…if you didn’t get a laugh out of this I feel sorry for you.

Be safe and be happy and keep reading.

Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The “right” violin returns

I would have preferred to post this video without words but I think it is important to introduce you to Michael Manners and Kuros Torkzadeh.

Kuros brought the violin back to life and Michael has awakened the music in it.

The “right” violin has returned home (Clonegal) and Michael can no longer use the excuse “I would love to play but I didn’t bring my violin” when he comes to visit.

It is indeed a pleasure to introduce you to Michael Manners.


The “right” violin?

will help you understand this post.  

Posted in America, Music, Stories, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

deja vu … all over again

A couple of blogs ago I wrote about Ruth and Dan and the “right” violin.  Remember, Ruth gave it to me.  Well, after Dan found out about the violin he was taken to the hospital.  He is out now and hopefully will soon continue his research on Irish whiskeys. 

While Dan was in the hospital, Ruth came over for a social distance cocktail and, here it comes, brought a stamp she found in the old house.  One stamp…a George Washington 2 cent stamp…she thought I could incorporate it into some of my “art” work.

Ruth has made a home for some of my stuff while most people wouldn’t give me 2 cents.  Thank you again, Ruth for pushing my stuff.


After she left … what else do I have to do … logged into eBay to see if any stamps like this one were listed.  Quite a few, many slightly different ranging in prices of over $2,000.00 to $1.00.  Once again, one jumps out at me and looks exactly like the one Ruth gave me.


Thank you Ruth above … eBay below.

 Ruth Keep em comin.

Now I have to say posting this will probably blow my chances of getting the old gramophone that she said I could have … whenever she can get it down from the attic. 

The view from their back yard.

I mentioned in the past that her house was once owned by the Huntington Castle family and ya gotta think there is more interesting stuff hidden away.  That is beside the surveillance equipment that a suspected British intelligence agent who once lived there had upstairs in the attic…and that story my friends is for another time.

I put the lead picture in cuz I miss the beach and the mystery of the wandering Wareham conch.  

Memorial Day has come and gone, please remember the true meaning of this day and honor those that made the ultimate sacrifice so that we can live in the greatest country on earth.  At least part-time.

I consider this picture one of the saddest I have ever seen.  Who is he mourning?  I suspect his father. 

I can’t end this on a sad note.  Went over to see Dan, it was about 10:30 in the morning and they invited me in for a chat.  We sat on the porch overlooking the river.  Dan told me he just bought a new Irish whiskey and asked if I would like to try it.  “Only if you join me,” I said.  He did and his research continues…and I might add that I truly recognize how difficult Dan’s research is, therefore, I have offered to help whenever my “busy” schedule permits.

Posted in Art, Ireland, the beach, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Hey Google

The other day I asked Google where my keys were and the little bastard said: “How many times do I have to tell you, I don’t do keys”.  Well, then what’s the weather going to be in Clonegal today?  “Rain, no surprise there you stupid fuck.”  OK, then what if I left you out in the rain you little shit.  “You would not only not find your keys but I’ll lock you out of the house you fat fuck.”

The relationship started out on good notes.  I was playing an old Louie Armstong 78 on my gramophone in the pool room.  All the imperfections of the record and the gramophone made it sound “perfect”.  I went into the house and asked Google to play the same song by Louie and it sounded just too cosmetic for me, so I asked for MVY.  It all went downhill from there.

I still have a difficult time understanding how you can put a piece of paper in a machine and dial a number and the exact copy comes out of another machine thousands of miles away. 

A long time ago when I was selling temperature controls I was traveling with my sales representative in farm country in Illinois.  He brought me to see his grandfather that lived on one of the farms.  We had a great chat and it turned to changes in technology.   He went on telling how they used to communicate with the next farm that was miles away.  He would not feed his dog for two days and the dog was trained to go to the farmer miles away to get feed and return the same way.  Carrying messages each way.  He then went on to witness, on TV, man walking on the moon.  Never forget my brief moments with this man.

I really enjoyed traveling and meeting the people of the mid-west.  Much different than the west and east coasts. 

OK Google play “your” favorite song, I say nicely.  Back with  

The Doors – The End – Live At Hollywood Bowl 1968 – YouTube › watch

This is the, end. Artist: The Doors Album: The Doors Song: The End Release Date: January 4th, 1967 Track …

The next morning Google’s gone and so is my last bottle of Jamesons.

This is the end…

Update on the “right” violin.  I’m having it restored and …oh I assume you have read the “Right Violin…it could be a game-changer. 

I miss the greatest country on the planet and I wish you all well on both sides of the pond.

…and as I write this they are pumping out our septic tank…it’s full of shit.



Posted in America, Ireland, Music, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

The “right” violin?

I wish I had taken “before” pictures of my new/old violin.  It was given to me last week by friends from Chicago that live in Clonegal village overlooking the Derry River.

I went over to their house to do some fishing…saw them jumping…but once again that’s why they call it fishing.  After a hard hour of fishing, I joined Dan for an Irish whiskey, which was forced on me.  Dan is into Irish whiskeys and has over 28 different top-shelf brands.  Ruth, his wife joined us and at a social distance, had an enjoyable few with a conversation that led to my blog “The wrong violin”.

If you haven’t read The “wrong” violin you might want to, just to appreciate this blog a bit more.



After telling them about my 234-year-old violin, Ruth goes into the shed in the back yard and brings out what looked like a violin.  It was covered with so much dirt and dust you almost couldn’t tell what it was.  It had no bridge, strings, or chin rest.

She found it in the attic of the house they bought once owned by the family from Huntington Castle, which was built-in 1625, where my daughter had her wedding reception, where Stanley Kubrick filmed Barry Lyndon, where Mike Jagger, Hugh Grant, and others have stayed (My sister and brother in law stay in the gatehouse) and recently was the headquarters of the Goddess of Isis (da Vinci Code).

Barry Lyndon (1975) Poster

Barry Lyndon (1975)

I brought it home and started to clean it up and with a Q tip, I was able to make out the year 1724.  Hey, this thing is pushing 300 years.  I put it aside and went to bed.  All I could think about is this old violin, got up, and went at the inside with more Q tips.

I could make out a partial label and it forced me to do some research on the internet.  What I found made my head spin. Most, if not all the articles I read, led me to believe that winning the lottery big would be easier than finding a rare master maker’s violin.

I continued my research and found samples of labels of the great violin makers.  This one jumped out and slapped me.

I began taking more pictures and tried to get light inside so that those pictures would be clear.

They are clear enough for me.  Look closely and you might agree.

I can’t go anywhere over here, roadblocks are everywhere, therefore I have been sending these pictures and more to violin appraisers and restoration specialists.  I even sent them to Guo Li at “E” Strings in Quincy, Massachusetts.  He restored my 1782 James Perry violin.

The sweet sound that comes out of this baby when played by someone that knows how is special.  His response was “could you bring it in and I will be able to tell you more.”

I will bring it in … don’t know when … as my new/old fiddle and I begin to age together and hopefully… inject a new and exciting life in each other.

…or I could just sell it….ya I could just sell it.

Posted in America, Ireland, Music, Stories, Uncategorized | Leave a comment

verses revisited

may your path 

through the snow

always be true

as the cardinal

in your life 

guides you


i remember


she was born

and i held her in my arms

and she became my life

i remember clearly 

i remember yesterday

i remember a little girl

in the sand and in the water

as the seagulls watched closely

and the tide came in and the tide went out

i see my life 

i see a young girl

i remember clearly

i remember yesterday

i remember a young girl

as she looked forward 

to tomorrow

i see a young woman

i remember clearly

i remember yesterday

as she embraced the rain

and the rainbow that showed the way

i see my life

as the sun came up

as the sun went down

as i remember…as i remember

i now see a beautiful, caring woman,

she is true and in love

but just as the sun rises and sets

and the tide comes in and goes out

 she will always…she will always

be my little girl

a bridge over the slaney

soon to cross

connecting friends

and so much more 

winter don’t linger

for i’ll be there

till summer comes

then i’m gone

to catch the sun

looking at a sunset

when a sunrise

was just admired

mornings turn quickly

nights faster

time is yesterday

and yesterday is

gone forever

and forever is 

a long time

oh time, oh time

oh precious time

can tomorrow’s sunrise

deliver more

and hold it gently

and hold it gently

till i need no more


it is cold

and the flowers

are slow to deliver

their message

the valley is quite

only interrupted By

a stay dog barking

in the distance

the old pot bellied stove

is devouring wood and coal

and we’re all mad here

or is it just

the cat and alice

with the white rabbit at a distance

looking for direction and



broken shells

ah but it’s broken

how can you find 

any beauty

in broken shells


just as you would

in a broken person

you only have to

look a little deeper

and you might be

pleasantly surprised

in what you find


Lily oh Lily

the world welcomes you

Lily oh Lily

open your eyes

and you will see

Tom reaching out

to hold your hand

and guide the way

Lily oh Lily

you have sooo much to do


Lily oh Lily

the world welcomes you

…and so do i

the fog rolls in

the sea battered shacks 

are disappearing 

with an excuse 

used by me

people may accept 

a painting’s


when covered with

a haze 


that works with people

as well

i closed my eyes 

to dream a day

a perfect day

but days are never


only dreams

they say

as clouds

sweep through 

and dreams become

days and days

become dreams  

i closed my eyes 

to dream a day

a perfect day


dreams they say

as clouds 

sweep through

and dreams become 

days and days

become dreams 


i closed my eyes

just to see

a day so pure

through a dream 

so free

i closed my eyes

just to dream a day

or maybe more

i closed my eyes

just to see

a day so pure

through a dream 

so free

i closed my eyes

just to dream a day

just to dream a day

or maybe more


storm window

not real 

but it is

windows allow you to see 

the world outside

and the world to

see you


which do you prefer

Posted in America, Art, Ireland, Uncategorized | Leave a comment