Caught in a Love Loss Cycle


I started to realize that our love was loss. I denied it for some time. We all deny a love that is loss when we realize it is gone. She would come and go as she pleased. For days on end. There was no stopping her, I’ve tried in the past and it was beyond talk. Leaving me for 2, 3 or days at a time. Come home and fatten up on food, sleep for two days straight. I would know she was at home because simple things would be out of place, hear the wood floors creak up stairs. She would walk by without a comment or stopping to sit with me. We lived in a large home at the time some 12 rooms in all. One could disappear in the rooms without being noticed. Our love was gone and it was hurting me deeply inside. The love we once had for years, earlier. The eye contact, snuggling, the gentle kissing, long missed and becoming a memory. She began her reckless life some months earlier and I knew why, a new love it must be or more surly. Her reckless life style caught up to her one evening. Evidence of foul play in the driveway, spots of blood, parts of her coat in the snow. She knew the dangers of being a night crawler. Our cats name was Jinx.

Powerman 5000

Powerman 5000: 1994

Kenmore Square in Boston MA the year 1994, the buzz: free concert in the square by local rock bands. I do not recall the reason for the event but there was a couple of them held year after year for a couple of years. Free concerts in Boston are rear and free concerts that shut down an entire area near Fenway Park was unheard of. I showed up with bells on. Michelob was there in full support of the festivities shelling out beer: two hands, two beers. It was a bright sunny day with beautiful woman scantily clad, were plentiful. One local band that was playing was having some local success called “Fighting C#cks” were headlining the show. The name of the band is in reference to rooster fights. The other bands I had not heard of yet, but a free outdoor show was enough for me to show. To my surprise Michelob showed. During the show I was busy checking out women and what color shoes they were wearing, blue, reds and shaded leather. I was enjoying the sights. My itinerary for the day was just watching women with music in the back round. An unknown band, to me, came on second to last on the set of I believe 4 bands. Disrespectfully I ignored their entrance to the stage. The band launched into one of the most powerful sets I have ever and including even today have ever heard. That band was and is Powerman 5000, they had just finished up recording and releasing a Compact Disk titled “True Force” which the next day I went to Tower Records and purchased. Tower Records had a section of local music, bear in mind this was still pre-internet as we know it today and to buy music required going to a music store and not all carried local music. To sample what I am talking about go to youtube and check out some sounds from “True Force.” Like this tune called Organized, one of my favorites.

I asked around to some of the concert goers who the band was and no one seemed to know. A rock club named the Rat was next to the show and the bar tender told me their name, he had heard of them. The band has a mixture of rap and rock with steel drums or use of percussion. Nobody at the time was playing this style of music and its sound was brand new. The first time I heard steel drums was in Waltham Mass as a youth. A Puerto Rican section of the town is where I first heard it as the folks would play these steel drums in the alley ways of Charles St. Segregation of nationality was a part of life back then for all the wrong reasons and not true today for all the right reason. I would cut through Charles St while carrying my shoe polishing gear. Waltham, at the time, was in the Guinness Book of World Records for having the most bars per square mile in the United States. At the time I would polish shoes for 10 cents and would usually receive 25 cent from the patrons. This was big money for a 9 year old and I would clean up. In the early seventies wearing dress shoes was popular and the style. Later bands such as Rage Against the Machine and Limp Bizkit would pound these same sounds, rap rock. I still love the sounds of steel drums and plan to incorporate it in my music as soon as I can find people willing to lay down some tracks that are over forty and not retiring from music or have picked up an acoustic guitar and starting to fall asleep.

I became a top ten fan showing up at each show. At the time they mainly played at The Rat, in Kenmore Square. I didn’t miss a one. One night before their set I bought them a picture of Rats Brew, a cheap on tap beer that the The Rat sold. It was least I could do for a band that was entertaining me every other month. They would pack the joint full of different type of people. Take note, what I mean was the variety of people who would show. There were Spanish Speaking Gang members showing, college folk, regular local crowd and never any trouble except for one night. (In 1994 the east coast west coast gang tension was nearing its height of explosion and the dudes were flying colors loud and clear with no miss understanding. Later rappers realized that working together was more profitable and less fearing than fighting, in the early 2000's era you started to see "featuring" on CD covers as rappers started to collaborate rather than segregate) I was hanging in the back area of the club before the band took stage. What was occurring during the show which would later be called Mosh Pitt, at the time it was just strange sight to see. Mosh Pitt’s consisted of the area in front of the stage in which people would bounce off of each another. One night a 5’1” young lady with blonde hair weighting in at 95 lbs on a rainy day was bouncing off people. She wound up and knocked out a dude with one punch. I would fathom to say that he probably deserved it. She did not have a violent look about her. A 6’5” bouncer came and carried her up the stairs and out of the club. That’s the only trouble I had seen at their shows. With such a diverse crowed you would “think” it would be trouble but everyone showed to hear this band with a new sound called Powerman 5000. I took a date to one show, Kathy, she was not aware of the band and what went down at their shows. She liked music and was in a tribute band of Heart and played on a local Boston CD of Rolling Stones music produced by the man himself,Jimmy Miller called Boston Gets Stoned the song is Dandelion. She had no idea what she was in for. She was walking around the stage and I kept telling her to watch out for when the band was coming on stage that things tend to get crazy in front of the stage and to be aware of this. She ignored me figuring that she had seen plenty of madness at rock shows and she considered herself a vet at rock shows which was true but not to this music. Well the band came on and launched into their typical powerful set in which the crowd went into a frenzy like piranha. She got caught up in front and could not exit the front area. I had to grad Cathy with all my might and drag her to the back of the show. She was in complete shock of what was going on and all I could say to her was "look it, I told you to watch out.”

Creative Commons Copyright by Dess Dermondy


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NAFTA and the Evolution of the World Economy

NAFTA


North American Free Trade Act

Is NAFTA a success or failure?


There are many views and opinions on weather NAFTA is a success or failure. While researching the content for this paper I came across many opinions about its success or failure. What I found is that both statements are true with regard to success or failure. The act has been successful for agriculture and a failure for manufacturing yet successful for profits for manufacturing corporations. There is a two to one ratio. Is the ultimate question about the world economy evolving to the point that we have easier trading among companies trough out the world. This is still unfolding as there are presently dozens of trade treaties among countries of the world for easier for companies to export and import goods and services. The overwhelming opinion is that these treaties are working and expanding. Is the lost of manufacturing jobs the product of evolution among trade partners with the USA? Yes, apparently so, according to the numbers of lost jobs in which no one is arguing the point of manufacturing jobs lost. While the world evolves to a world economy the old way of thinking rejects NAFTA and other trade treaties. The new way of a new world order with regard to a world economy is currently unfolding, stay tuned. If the United States evolves as the management branch of a world economy, NAFTA will be in history the beginning treaty that started the view of a world economy.

NAFTA officially began on January 1, 1994 and over the course of 15 years has been implemented. NAFTA is not an overnight thought but an organized implementation of agreements between the United States, Mexico and Canada. As stated in article 102 of NAFTA agreement outlines its purpose. The purpose of NAFTA is as follows: To promote fair competition among companies of other Nations, increase investment opportunities, protect intellectual property, create procedures that resolve disputes over trade, also to establish frame work for further trilateral, regional and multilateral cooperation among NAFTA participants. The one agreement that receives the most headlines has to do with conditions of fair competition. The one country that seems to benefiting the most has been Canada. Their exports have almost doubled in recent years. The arguments arise from supporters of manufacturing job loss here in the United States. Between 1994-2010 the United States has lost 682, 000 plus jobs with 80% being from manufacturing sector. The industries most hit are motor vehicles, textiles, computers and electrical appliances that were once made here in the United States. The lower wages in Mexico is the main factor for the movement of manufacturing.

Mexico has been hardest hit by farm jobs lost, 1.3 million jobs. Interestingly the lost has been by imports from the United States and subsidized farming has been able to sell produce for under cost to produce. Odd, because one of the reasons NAFTA is established is not to allow unfair competition. Yet the same could be said for lower wages of the Mexican work force. The work force in the United States cannot compete with the wages in Mexico. The average worker earns $3.50 per hour while in the United States the minimum wage is currently at $7.25. It is impossible to compete with a $5.00 difference. There is talk of raising the minimum wage in which I support but also wonder if this will further hurt the manufacturing worker. With an increase in the minimum wage further job loss is eminent. In order for survival at current rates with regard to rent and food basic survival, a minimum wage increase has to happen. One cannot survive with wage alone at $7.25 per hour without help from the federal government. An increase in Federal minimum wage would decrease someone need for Federal support. The give and take affect never ends.



This chart clearly indicates the difference in wages between countries. I added other countries because more trade agreements are in the works. The decisions among law makers is one of sacrifice or are they willing to further sacrifice further manufacturing jobs for corporate profits as the 99% protesters lend to believe or are we as a country in the process of evolving to a world economy? In my opinion we are evolving and I feel it is important to evolve in the name of progress.

This evolving world economy with treaties such as NAFTA has increased exports and benefited countries of Canada, Mexico and United States. Canada and Mexico exports have increase over 400 billion in 13 years. The United States exports of agriculture to Canada and Mexico have increased from 22% to 30% of total farm exports. Business investments have grown here in the United States from Mexico and Canada by 117% in 15 years since NAFTA began as compared to 1979 to 1993 45% increase. Trade among the trilateral agreement has grown from 297 billion to 930 billion. U.S. corn exports to Mexico have increased 175%. Exports of fruits and vegetables to Canada have increased 45%. The benefits to the United States poultry market has increased to Mexico by 60% and to Canada by 100%.

As indicated most of the successes of NAFTA for the United States are in the agriculture and livestock markets. Thirty years ago prior to NAFTA these markets were depressed in the U.S.. NAFTA has and is continuing to improve these markets. Agriculture is part of the back bone of the economy in the U.S.. Manufacturing has declined as the U.S. becomes managers in the world market and countries such as Mexico become the producers/ manufactures with the help of treaties such as NAFTA. At one time I was against treaties such as NAFTA until I have recognized the evolving economics that theses treaties have caused. I once was part of the manufacturing industry namely research and development, which I spent my first 18 year working career and have begun the process of retooling with the help of Manchester Community College in seeking a degree in HVAC (heating, ventilation and air conditioning). Recognizing trends and changes is important in staying with the curve of society and becoming a part of rather than rejecting, change.


Creative Commons Copyright by Dess Dermondy

Memories of a 1965 Dodge Dart

1984, my senior year in High School. Many folks will state that High School will be the best time of your live. Part true but the fall back to that statement is the lack of cash flow. I and many others were constantly broke during these wonderfull years. Home work was at 2 to 3 hours per evening. For a rebal teen these were heavey numbers to endure. Even with this home study program I was only capable of c-d average. Later i learned this would have been a a-b average at other schools due to high standards set. Regardless I wanted to work so I could buy a new car. At teenage level new cars are a constant fanticy. To this day I am still unable to afford a new car or truck for that matter. During this time era I owned a 1969 Chevy El-Cameno. Stuffed in the engine compartment was a 455cu Buick motor, large block. Over sized springs were installed in the front end to handle the extra wieght of the motor(compaired to the stock motor). Even though I love this car and to this day love the 1968-69 chevy El-Comeno, this is not the car I have many memeries from. The car that scared me for life is the 1965 Dodge Dart GTA, owned by a friend (sence grammer school) Anthony Ascolese (spell check on the name). Equipted with a 273cu motor, which by the numbers sounded tame but proved everything but tame. Badges on the car desiginated the car "GTA", I have tried to look up what GTA stands for on the internet with no answers, (if any one knows or cares to research further please leave me a note in the comments section to be added in). Standard for the car were bucket seats with a center console. Back then, the use of chrome was abundent. There wis chrome lased through out the interior compartment from the shifter knob to the outside window tracks. The automatic shifter is located between the seats with 1, 2, D designations for the transmission gears. "EMMA" as we called Anthony bacvk then, used the shifter as though it were a standard transmission. Constantly adjusting the gears with no argument from the transmission. I have never seen anybody like Emma work the transmission so hard (it never failed). Emma could have made an excellent Reliability Engineer for Dodge. He tested the mechanical limits of that car on a daily basis. When he purchased the rig he stuffed a largest cam avalible(do not recall the specs) and masive carborator. The matched cam and carborator provven a perfit combonation for it had tremedous straight line performance. The motor also equipted with solid lifters( lifters open the valves to allow combustion). For the times solid lifters were proven reliable for horse power seeking fans. hydraulic lifters are subject to failure to contamination in the oil and extreme pressure during hard accleration. The carborator, being a large model, complemented the cam by delivering large volumes of fuel into the combustion chamber of the motor.


Emma and I both worked at a local Exxon gas station with two bays for repairs. The owner, Mike Forest, alowed us to use the bays after hours to work on our own cars as long as we put the tool away when done asnd kept the bays clean. This ment we had full use of the car lifts and saved us lots of cash in paying others to work on our car. Try finding that today with every one claiming liability issues.

One Saturaday afternoon Emma had completed an adjustment on the solid lifters ( the draw back to solid lifters is they need adjusting from time to time). Emma decided to test the motor under load to check performance and began to do Donuts around the gas pumps. Donuts is an old slang term for spinning the car around in circles while spinning the tires. I counted 12 laps around the pumps when I noticed in the corner of my, blue lights. Emma continued doing donuts with his eyes focused the gas pumps so not to crash into them. Crashing into them would have set off an exsplotion that would have shutt part of the town of Lexington (MA) down. The blue lights turned out to be the local police. Officer Tim Barry pulled in the Exxon though the car door open, jumped out with his arms flailing in the air yelling "SHUT IT DOWN SHUT IT DOWN." Anthony compliade, jumped out and asked "whats wrong." Officer Barry restated "WHATS WRONG?" He went into a full blown explanation on "WHATS WRONG." After explaning the wrongs about going around gas pumps with the tires spinning, exspostions and possible death, he told Anthony not to do it again. Emma stated he only did it a couple of times. "A COUPLE OF TIMES?" Officer Barry yelled back, "Anthony the whole Police station has been watching you," with that statment the officer pointed in the direction of the Police station. The station was located 100 yards due west from the gas station. Emma and I both looked in the direction the Officer was pointing to conferm that you could see from the station. He was right, not only could you clearly see but there was also Police Officers still looking out the window. Seeing this Emma apologized. the Officer jumped back in cruser, gave Anthony one final look over and left.

On an another occation Emma phoned me on a Sunday morning telling me to come on down to the gas station right away. There was a tone of advenchure is his voice. With out questioning him I imediatly set off for the station. The station was located at the end of my streeet on Fletcher ave and Woburn st. I parked the El-Cameno and asked "whats going on," Emma explained that he had just cut the exhaust off his car from the headers. He informed me he wanted to hear how load the car was with no exhaust. We jumped in the Dart and turned headed East on Woburn st. At approximatly 25mph I exclaimed "wow thats load" "oh ya watch this" he replied. Emma stomped on the accelirator with such force that he lifted himself several inches off the seat. The car erroupted in a deafining ball of noice. The mid 1980's were pre car alarms. If cars had alarms back then he would have set off every alarm on the street as we passed. Emma continue with the accelorator pinned to the floor boards for about 1/16 of a mile. i was holding on for dear life with one hand on the dash board and the other holding the door shut. I hadent noticed the speed we were traveling for I was keeping an eye out for dogs on a Sunday mornibing stroll, solo. No dogs were around. We reached the end of Wobun st turned around and proceeded in the westerly direction with the same acceloration. We arived back at the station, when we left Emma calculatingly left one of the garage doors open at the station. He pulled into the bay a bit too fast and screeched to a hault, jumped out and shut the garage door. With-in 15-20 minutes we had the exhaust back on the car and the car parked out front as though nothing had happened. Emma was constantly looking out the windows as though waiting for the Police to show, they never did. Back then Lexington did not staff the Department on sunday mornings but I can assure you that the switch board at the Police station lite up. I believe Anthony was dissap[ointed that no Police showed because he pacing back and forth while looking out the windows. Anyone who live on Woburn st and was home should beable to recall that Sunday morning.

That Dodge Dart recieved a complete and thorough thrashing each day with no exceptions. During the week we would visit Jonny Carrolls junk yard in Lexington to pick up tires. Emma would burn them off the car during the week and weekends. Anthony was on first name basess with the owner Jonny. He did slow down on the donuts because one day he split the rim in half doing donuts and swore them off. Very rarly did that car ever break down, the car accually seemed to enjoy it. I miss that car even though it was not mine. Creative Commons Copyright by
Dess Dermondy

Bow and Arrow Pub

When faith is no more he shall rise again, on a hill upon a horse; guarded by his Knights on foot, he will ponder with head down on where he went wrong, this I know this I’ve seen…Dess


Bow and Arrow Pub, Cambridge Massachusetts, 1990

We would travel to Cambridge Massachusetts to a local hot spot called the Bow and Arrow Pub, managed by a man I remember only by first name Rich and his knock out ,soon to be wife Tiffany. It was an interesting place to hang out if you were/are interested in night life activities. The shape of the interior was ‘L” shape, with the front half occupied by Harvard University students and the back half occupied by locals and avid motorcycles. On occasion the front of the Pub would have some dozen or more bikes out front with sardine standing room only inside. I mean jamming. Being in my early twenties this was prime. I have heard that the Pub was used as a back drop in the movie “Good Will Hunting,” staring Matt Damon who attended Harvard from 1988-1992, yup, he was there. The back of the Pub had a juke box and pool tables and dart boards. The dart boards were located in the path of the restrooms and caution was needed when traveling to the “head.”

One would at first think that the three crowds of attendees would not mix well. The Harvard Crimson, newspaper, did a false story regarding the Pub and the mix of people,check it out here. They made claims there were animosity between the students and others at the Pub. This could not have been any further from the truth. In fact Rich, the manager, cut the story out and framed it and hung it on the wall for all to see. We would read from it on occasion for a good laugh. The person who wrote the story was directly lying with malicious intent, to give the Pub a bad name. To know that this writer is now a leader in some community somewhere is freighting. Many Universities in the Boston area, at the time, had it out for bars including Boston University who went after The Rathskeller or commonly known as "The Rat."The Rat was a local hard rock night club that supported many bands over the years including but far from limited too: The Ramones, Powerman 5000, Orange9 mm, Pixies, Dump Truck and hundreds of other bands that later disappeared or became famous. This was Harvard’s failed attempt to go after the Bow and Arrow Pub simply because it was a hot spot and very popular with the students. The main reason for the Pub being so popular was the availability of cheap beer. Harvard Square, Cambridge Massachusetts, is an expensive area. Boston University won the battle over “the Rat” and bought the block the club was located on and evicted the club.The diverse crowd that showed up made the place.

Both sides of the Pub got a kick out of the story and both sides of the Pub got along just fine, ask anybody who was there and they will tell you the same thing I just did.

Tiffany, the manager’s future wife, ran the back side of the Pub. I asked her why she tended bar in the rear and not the front, she told me that the rear of the bar tipped better than the front half. The students were broke and would only have one or two draughts. I remember Tiffany having Rich clean her side of the Pub.

One particular night at closing time we had the bikes out front and fired them up and started down the wrong way down a one way street before realizing the right way to meet up with Massachusetts Ave, the main drag in Cambridge. Harvard Square, Cambridge, was always busy even at one in the morning. Maneuvering a Harley Davidson motorcycles through and around traffic was tricky.

With a bit of a buzz on, difficult. (for those of you who mentioned to me that I am glorifying drinking I not, this is just how things went down). When we came to the center of Harvard Square, a fire truck was making its way through the traffic with lights and siren blazon. We proceeded to blast past the fire truck at half throttle which at the time was referred to as lane splitting. Lane splitting was not recommended by the Surgeon General and no longer practiced. Bill the Cop led the way. Lane splitting is flat out hazardous to your health. With cars moving on both sides. I remember the driver of the fire truck looking out the window down at us in amazement that we had the “balls” to pass him while he had his lights on. That blank look on his face I have not forgotten. It was no big deal to us at the time. The two fellows in the rear of the truck had that same look. We never got pulled over the driver must not have called it in to the local cops.

We travelled to Route 2, a small highway that heads west; I had a fist full of throttle by this time and bad timing. When making a corner on a motorcycle, do not accelerate. You tend to drift because the bike will try to straighten out. Well drift I did, right in to the guard rail. I hit the rail hard and was heading down to the pavement, hard. I hit the guard rail with such force that all I could see were sparks. The front end started to wobble uncontrollably. From left to right and back again. I remember the bike starting to lean with the wobble and I grabbed the throttle and twisted it to wide full open. The bike straighten out and pulled out of a very deadly situation. I later learned that this is called inertia. With rotating mass a motorcycle will try to straighten up right. I did not know about this at the time and later read about it in an engineering hand book. If it wasn’t for inertia I would not be here today. The next day my 48’ would not start on Sunday it did. I enjoyed working on my bike and the bike was in top condition and there was no explanation for it not starting. I miss this bike even today. It was a 1948 motor in a 1958 frame with a six inch over stock front end, wide glide. A fellow from the Netherlands bought it for resale overseas. I was short on cash at the time, today I would never sold it because they are so hard to replace. Hay, I was young and you know, live and learn. I would sleep on that bike before I sold it today. I now sit and think about that bike and how hard it would be to replace it. Harleys are an expensive and selfish toy, I miss riding a bike. That Sportster in my blog was stolen and most likely the last. To me, riding, is therapy. I am not going to try to explain it.

Creative Commons Copyright by Dess Dermondy

Dess Dermondy: MGA, a poem by Dess.Dermondy.blogspot.com

Dess Dermondy: MGA, a poem by Dess.Dermondy.blogspot.com: MGA He came last night black and gray To look to wonder Look at what to wonder on whom Laugh now We shall share the wine ...

Dess Dermondy: A band called Aerosmith (1972 or 1 not sure)

Dess Dermondy: A band called Aerosmith (1972 or 1 not sure): About 1972 or 1 or so, a local band practice nearby at a place called the warehouse. For a long time a thought they practice at a garage n...

Bill the cop

  Bill the Cop

October 1993, I remember the year and month because I was soon to meet the mother of my three daughters the following month. Its not that the women left that much of an impression on me but that fact of the three women that I now love was the product of meeting her. The love I have for my daughters is true love that most people seek but never find…



Bill the cop is a long time friend that dates back to the mid eighties. When we first meet He had a 1970 Chevy el-Camino and I had a 1969 Chevy el-Camino. Apparently we had something in common, choice of cars. Bill the cop wasn’t actually a cop for a long time. Bill the cop hangs out with cops, chats with cops, races cars with cops, invites cops over for dinner, talks to cops wives, phones cops, emails cops, visits cops, works on cop cars, collects cop memorabilia yet for the longest time Bill the cop wasn’t a cop. He recently became a cop by default. He flat hung around cops so much they made a cop. I was visiting a junk yard in Billerica Massachusetts, Holland’s Auto Salvage, in the early nineties looking for a transmission for my Caprice, when I notice spray painted on an old Monte Carlo “save for Bill the cop.” I knew who they meant and so did everybody else who seen it. Bill the cop collected and raced Monte Carlos at local race tracks and on occasion would demolish one and need replacing.

In the early days Bill the cop didn’t drink much which was handy to the rest of us who did drink a lot on weekends. Bill the cop was the official designated drive again by default, he didn’t drink. I don’t remember him ever complaining about the one who drove all the time as a matter of fact he seemed to enjoy it. Constantly reminding us on what went on the night before. Remember we were in our early twenties and going out meant an adventure. You never knew what was going to happen, some good, some bad. Over the years people have asked me how I was able to hold on to my license and not losing by drinking and driving which was common place in the late eighties and early nineties. Real simple I never really drove drunk nor did anybody else who hung around us, bill the cop drove. If Bill the cop wasn’t driving I took the bus knowing I was going to drink. There is a retired Sergeant by the name of Charlie Sergeant who would pick me up while walking home and give me a ride. A good cop by anybody’s standards rather than giving me hard time for being drunk at 1 in the morning he would give me ride home with some small talk. Bill also enjoyed being in front during motorcycle rides with a group blasting behind. On one particular night coming out of Cambridge MA, we hung at a place called the Bow and Arrow, short story on Bow and Arrow Pub coming later.

One afternoon I phoned Bill to see if he would like to join me for a cocktail at a local watering hole in Billerica Ma. The early nineties were pre cell phone days and calls were made at home or at phone booths this call went from phone booth. He informed me it was a bit early to venture out and call in an hour to let the sun set first. I agreed it was early but that I was bored and looking for venture. I decided to kill some time at a local gin mill. I don’t recall the name of the place nor do I remember the place having a sign out front either. It was a local place and that’s the way they wanted it. Earlier that day I had missed place my license to drive and formally had no ID. There are three things that I keep track of when going out, my keys, money and ID, having all three accounted for, meant I was in good shape. During these days I wore a bucket hat as they were called or still are. It made me look younger than I was but this is not the reason why I wore it; I wore it because I liked it.

When I walked into the local gin mill it was dead quite inside. The day shift crowd was still perched on the stools consisting of 4 or 5 40+ year olds who looked 60 from hard days of boozing. Nobody was talking when I entered and the only sound was the flicker from a TV set hanging from wire from the ceiling. Entering the door way was a straight shot to the bar. Behind the bar was a man over 60 and still mean like he was at 20. Stocky build with meaty arms from years of working iron at the gym. An x marine or military by the way he had his hair cut. Short on the sides and slightly longer on top. Military hair cut rang out. His arms were the size of cow legs and he was leaning forward with both hands on the bar and a deep intimidating stare I have never forgotten. Entering he had his eyes fixed upon my without a blink. He appeared to be the owner who had worked behind the bar far too many years and somebody had called in sick that day and he was stuck tending bar. Dressed in a cooks all white outfit including an all white apron. He was going to throw somebody out that day and I was a prime target with long hair and funny looking hat on my head complete with black leather jacket, I was soon to be gone. As I walked toward the bar he kept fixed on me, I tried to act as if I had been there many times before with a real casual walk. The boards creaked under my walk. Old wooden boards that have seen plenty of action over the years. His face had a worn leather look and an x bar room brawler that never blinked. I stopped in front of him at the bar and asked for a Bud bottle. “You got an ID,” he had me. No was the answer yet I didn’t say it, only thought it. Without saying a word I bent over slightly, took off my bucket hat and showed him my balding head. Straighten back up and put my hat back on, he stated “that works” and bounced himself off the lean forward stance to get me the Bud. The day shift crowd erupted in laughter and kept laughing until I finished the Bud and left. I finished the bottle quickly and placed it down. The bar tender was still in front of me. I said “thanks” and his reply was “good day.”





Dess Dermondy
creative commons copyright

 

A band called Aerosmith (1972 or 1 not sure)

About 1972 or 1 or so, a local band practice nearby at a place called the warehouse. For a long time a thought they practice at a garage near Bay State Cycles but found out later in life it was at the warehouse. I was too young at the time to venture out of federal prison (Prospect Hill Projects). This local band was very popular among the teenagers at the projects and we had heard a lot about them (mostly the partying that went on). Nobody had much money so this was a way for the project kids to see a concert. Being 7 and too busy riding my new (recently borrowed) bicycle into the pool. The pool at the projects was one that tapered down to 4 feet in depth and started out at 6”. At the front end of the pool was a fountain that sprayed water.  Riding my bicycle into the pool was an enjoyable event for me. Not sure what was the attraction was but I enjoyed it. On this particular day the attendants of the pool bared me from riding my bicycle into the pool and I was the leaving the area when a project friend came running up to me and announced that “that band is here, down on Hanson Rd.”  My brain said “Bing-go.” “They are setting up to play music.” I yanked my bicycle out of the pool and peddled down to 22g Dermondy road were I, my mom and brothers lived. After changing out of my wet clothes I met up with my friends who were gathering out front of my house and we stormed down the hill (snotty nose and all) to see this band that we had heard so much about. The members of the band (by the way, I do not remember the band at the time being called Aerosmith) were plugging in the amps and setting up the drums.

 First thing I would like to say is that Aerosmith is the first band that I have ever heard of playing the projects. I have seen Rappers today actually play at local projects as part of their tour. In the late 90’s I saw this in Virginia while working at Newport News Shipbuilding. They played at the projects by day and then at night at the Hampton Coliseum. Credit where credit is due.

The band was setting up, as I said earlier, plugging amps into an orange extension cord and getting ready to crank it up. They stetted up at the end of Hanson Rd down at the dead end, at the circle. I remember watching the blond hair dude (Hamilton) and slinky (Tyler). I called him slinky because he reminded me of a popular tool, at the time, called slinky. It is a spiral wound (coil) piece of wire that today they make out of plastic. The toy would spring around when pulled and has a funny look to it. The band cranked into some heavy songs and we the kids were pushed back out of the way by the local girls who insisted to be close to the band. At one point I was 3 feet from slinky, by the end of the first song I was at the back of the crowd. I was not too happy because I had thought I had a new friend.

 Aerosmith is a band that I have enjoyed from day one. 1975 my brother Scott had bought an album call ‘Toys in the Attic.” Musically I had gone from Elvis to the beetles to the Rolling Stones and now Aerosmith. They enlightened me to a different sound that I had never heard before this date and after this I found many different types of music. During the 80’s I would hitch hike across Massachusetts going to see Aerosmith play. During the 80’s Aerosmith would announce shows out of nowhere. I found out later it was generally because they were broke and needed cash, being from Boston they always had people willing to show.

In the early nineties I worked for a guy named Tom Marron who claimed that he use to deal drugs to the members of the band. Apparently they had a serious cocaine problem back then (old news today). Tommy said they were a nightmare, getting calls at all hours of the night wanting more, more, and more. He would, at times, double the price in hoping they would say forget it and they would say “bring it over.” This sort of abuse became apparent one night in Worchester Mass. at a show I was attending when Steven Tyler passed out on stage. I remember him hanging on to a tall stand up fan on stage that looked like it was going to drop into the crowd. Tyler was drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels and picking something out of a wood bowl next to the drum set. Some type of pill I presume. He poured that Jack down his throat at an alarming volume, like there was no tomorrow.  The whole obsession with drugs caught up to him that night and his body and mind gave out and he collapsed right on stage… the band played on ( I believe it was “Train Kept a Rolling”).( I am writing this in a coffee house in Portsmouth, NH and a beautiful woman with red Patten leather shoes just walked in and has caught undivided attention and I forgot to breath) anyways, shortly after this night the “toxic twins” as they were called at the time cleaned thing up and for good reason. This is now long into their past.

One show I went to in Foxboro stadium, again a show announced for no apparent reason or album release, the band had half of Foxboro Stadium set up, about mid field. I meet some folks at a wall that divided the stadium into to two sections and it cost more to go down on the field. We were devising a plan to jump the wall. We diverted the attention of the guards by telling them that 3 blokes had just jumped the wall. When they ran over to catch them, guess what, we jumped the wall. It was an extremely hot day and the faint at heart were passing out and carried off. That day was videotaped by someone on stage and the band had a large screen set up to see. I would like to see that tape because I was on it several times during the show. We had made it right up front.

Well the party days ended and Aerosmith picked up steam. CD’s started going platinum in tune with their brains clearing up. Soon I was not able to buy tickets; you use to be able to buy them up until the day of the show, not no more. The last show I was able to see of Aerosmith was at the Lynn Manning Bowl. A small stadium used for local soccer and lacrosse games. The band kick ass as usual. A bit of disruption occurred when a fellow decided to climb a tower that for some reason was located next to the field. It appeared that he was going to jump off the top of the tower in the southerly direction. A landing pad had formed by the crowd moving out of the way and chanting started “jump, jump, jump.” A brave security guard who wasn’t being paid enough climbed the tower and talked the man down…the show went on. The Hells Angels were there, back stage.

Hay, I’ll say it, I love that Tyler voice. 1975 I played that album over and over again and later on wore out cassette tapes of the band. His voice is an instrument of the band, very distinctive. (Recently I wrote a song called “Queen City talk” that has Aerosmith written all over it, the influence is unavoidable). Steve Tyler took that Mick Jagger style, double down and it was jack pot. The band has become so popular that state of New Hampshire had a scratch ticket (lottery) with the band on it. Well no matter how many albums they sell, no matter how many concerts they sell out they are still that local band to me. I miss being able to buy tickets to go see them play. I guess it’s a good thing when you can sell out a concert faster than a forty old man can log on to the internet. The last time I tried this, 10 minutes after the tickets went on sale, “sold out.”
Creative Commons Copyright by
Dess Dermondy

MGA, a poem by Dess.Dermondy.blogspot.com

MGA

He came last night black and gray

To look to wonder

Look at what to wonder on whom

Laugh now

We shall share the wine

Dance with jewels

A sparkle a shine

Celebration unkind

Laugh now

We shall laugh later

During our celebration

A click a clack

He climbs the stairs

As he stood to look

Arm around

We will laugh in a celebration

He is a friend

He waits for it to begin

So don’t ask

You will never get in

What is the greatest wonder of them all

The answers were all around

So now you know

Newport News Shipbuilding, 2002 (written in 2010)






I’ve been working for a research and development company for 10 years prior to this trip. With out getting into revealing classified writing, generally what we did was a “tune-up” on Navy aircraft carriers. We had just finished up on a trip to Canada (story coming) and off to Virginia. Traveling became a normal part of life for me at the time. Flying at first was frightening, but when you fly several dozen times it starts to become a way of life. A minimal amount of passengers were on board for the flight. The country had just been attacked by a bunch of cowards and traveling by plane was off this list for many. The company had split up the work crew incase one of the planes was hijacked by terrorist. The country was still in the 9-11 fear factor. This way half the crew would make it to Virginia and continue with the work at hand. Preliminary letters were written by management incase a plane went down and families needed to be notified.

First we landed in Washington to take a commuter flight to Virginia. The commuter flight consisted of a twin prop plane with seating for a tired dozen. These twin props are fun to take if you have some traveling hours behind you. The pilots obviously enjoy flying them. The take offs and in-flight banks have a roller coaster effect. Beads of sweat form on the novice travelers’ foreheads with blood stopping grips on hand rails of the seats. Most have visions of fuel pump starvation as 70-degree banks are achieved. The hope is that the pump won’t loose its prime of fuel. If it lost its prime the plane would need to land via wind current. Landings on a twin prop are interesting on windy days. The plane can and will drop 150 feet or so while approaching. The constant struggle by the pilot is evident by readjusting the planes flaps. You know when the pilot looses control when all of a sudden the plane makes a 65-degree bank straight up wards to avoid a belly flop landing. Second approaches are typically followed by extremely hard landing that shocks the spine. I always enjoy seeing the pilots exit the cockpit with a wide smiles and “enjoy your day” good byes.

It was mid-July; Virginia in July has the humidity consistency of pea soup. At 5am wake-up and exit the hotel room into a sauna atmosphere. Waiting for the always-late staff engineers newly recruited from local College and universities. Hard-nosed management would curb these late meetings with a simple private talking to. Simply catch the always-late staff engineer alone then kneel him with “keep pulling that late arrivals and your gone.” There were a couple of ‘staffers’ who no matter how many threats they received by upper management continued to exit their hotel rooms when it was convenient for them. Always followed by “off the record” talks. “listen good get your shit together earlier so you can be on time.” The standard response was always “the hotel didn’t ring me a wake up call,” followed by upper management response of “have your mother call.” “Or set your table alarm clock, your wrist watch alarm clock, cell phone alarm clock and the wake-up call by the front desk.”

Northrop Grumman Newport News Shipbuilding (NGNN) is a bit of a rough house for contractors. Most but not all workers there don’t like contractor because they feel that jobs are being taken away from them (not true). Not only were we contractors but also contractors telling them what to do. A double whammy. Normally we would work with the same shipyard that we have in the past. I have traveled to NGNN many times. This would also make the training easier having the same people year after year. Any manager out there worth their weight will tell you of the costs of training. Normally we would set up the process area (water filtration) and go straight to operations. Supervising is a tough job always looking for balance between getting the job done and not pissing every body off in the process. I worked with a fellow names Reggie who was the shift supervisor for the yard workers. The newspaper crew was the third shift. I always got a kick out of this one particular guy who would walk onboard with an arm full of newspapers apparently not expecting to perform much work. Mondays were even more interesting with the Sunday versions of local and national news. He never tried to hide it. There was always a one-hour shift overlap so that we could talk to the next shift and explain what had occurred over the last shift. Every morning we would come on shift with newspapers on the table and crossword puzzles completely done (not every one on this shift approved of this fellow and he had many run ins with people on his shift for his lack of interest in work). 3rd sift management always had a laundry list of things to do.

The Navy likes to train crews on a daily bases. Constantly over the PA system you would here “this is a drill, this is a drill” so not to panic any body followed by what was occurring around you. If your ever going to get hurt in an industrial environment you want to get hurt on a Navy base. Dozens of Sailors come flocking to the scene. Complete with every piece of equipment needed to save your ass. I must say that it is comforting to know that this amount of training goes on. On one uneventful day I was walking up the gang plank to enter the air craft carrier an alarm went off. The alarm was ear piercing in decibel level. I looked up at the entrance to the ship and seen a m-16 heading down the gang plank accompanied by a 19 year old Marine (the bullets in weapons are real and no longer rubber bullets). The Marine was yelling "DOWN DOWN DOWN," for future reference: when a Marine yells down down down; you get down (they are trained to kill and are ready and willing to protect this country). Ship yard workers(yard birds) started dropping to the ground. I took several steps back off the plank and dove behind a dumpster. I was working on the "out of site out of mind" theory. Its not that I thought that the dumpster would stop any armorer piercing bullets. A dead silence fell over the ship yard. Any one who works or lives near a shipyard will tell you that a shipyard always has noise. Clanking banging and hums of motors. This was an uneasy silence. I looked around and seen dozens of yard birds, belly first to the ground, not moving. Dust clouds were forming around their mouths and nostrils as they exhaled heavily to the ground. Every one was waiting for the familiar "this is a drill" announcement that never came. I remembered being 19 years old and not thinking properly. 19 year old Marines with fully loaded M-16's is in my top ten, "to fear", list. Several M-16 were diving for cover. The sound of a human body hitting cold steel is a dead Thug. A sound that I have never heard before yet I knew exactly what it was when I heard it started running by on board. It was bullets clanking against gun steel. Not sure of the caliber (nor could I mentioned if I knew for its classified info) of the weapon but it must be large for the gun barrel had a tripod at the end of it to hold the weight of the gun barrel up. Two Marines manned the weapon, one holding a drab green ammo can holding the bullets and the other manning the trigger. There were two of these weapons and they took  trained calculated positions aiming the barrels down at us. Approximately 60 feet apart. The only noise in the entire shipyard was the crackling of two way radios as communication between Officers and personnel started. I couldn't hear what was being said. Stress levels started to rise among the yard birds over the age of 30. The dead silence was nerve racking and frightening because all that was need was one sharp noise and all hell would have broken loose in the form of bullets flying. being young and in the military, you can't wait to fire your weapon that you have been trained to fire. Especially with currently live targets. Again there was no announcement that "this is a drill." The atmosphere was quite tense as wide eyed yard birds were looking about. M-16 were still diving for cover, I lost count after 10.
             Finally an Officer stood up after what seemed like several hours, an announced that "this is a drill." A crowd of yard birds formed at the plank ready to take the Officer for a short stroll out back to talk to. Th Officer was escorted by several Marines out of site. The comments being made by the yard birds are unmentionable to put in writing. The coast cleared and every one went back to work and milling about. I have never before or ever seen again in my 18 year career working in and around shipyards seen a drill go unannounced. Please don't do it again, ...Sir.
Creative Commons Copyright by
Dess Dermondy

Civet rock band

great song and guitar work by CIVET @ www.myspace.com/civet check out: "son of a bitch"

Otis Day and the Knights, 1985 by Dess Dermondy

Otis Day and the Knights, 1985 by Dess Dermondy






Fall 1985, Otis Day and the Knights were on tour and a large tour at that.



Jeff, a long time school friend and trusted comrade had a mission to pursue. I don’t mention his last name for I believe he is in-line to become a police chief in a town near you. Walking along the road in down town Lexington, MA, Jeff pulled over to talk to me. He reserved a U-haul rental truck 21 footer, I believe and the mission at hand was to travel to the University of Massachusetts to see Otis perform in his glory. The price for accommodations (the back of the U-Haul) and beverage (the cheapest beer available by keg) $20 complete. I immediately signed up. The road trip was sold out inside an hour. We meet early on Saturday morning at 9:00am sharp. We all quickly piled into the back at 9:00am, I do not recall how many of us there were but it was around 10. University of Massachusetts (U-Mass) was referred to at the time as Zoo Mass and for good reason (later explained). The back of the box truck was dark for there was no lighting available. Only trace amounts of light coming from the outline of the rolled up back door. If you have ever been on Space Mountain down in Walt Disney Land in Florida, this is close to the sensation that you experienced. Completely dark with un-anticipated swings. Halfway to the Zoo, Weebs (nick name) announced that his throat was “parched” and preceded to tap one of the kegs. No one argued and we all joined in passing plastic cups to all guests and forming a line to the left around the inside the van. Upon arrival at Zoo Mass 1/8th of the keg was one the box truck floor. Pulling into the parking lot at the campus, Weebs investigated how much beer was consumed during the journey. More damage than we realized had occurred, the keg was empty. Jeff had enough of driving at this point and commissioned one of the guests to seek out another keg at a local vendor. The van returned in no time. We piled back into the back and formed a line to the right, leaving the back door open and parked.

A third through this keg it was decided to patrol the campus. Driving around campus the students were donating furniture, roadside. The next school year was beginning and furniture was being tossed into the trash, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. We gathered lamps, a sleep sofa, padded living room chair and nick knacks. The festivities on Campus were at an all time high complete with bomb-fires on the front lawns…Otis was on the way to deliver the goods. As late afternoon was passing anticipation of Otis’ arriving the next afternoon was mounting. The show had sold out months earlier. Several years earlier Otis and the knights did a cameo appearance in a film that all critics hailed as a flop. The film was and still is a smash hit. The name of the film: Animal House, starring John Belushi, Karen Allen, and Tom Hulce. Zoo Mass picked up were the movie left off. Students were traveling from all corners of the United States to study: women, beer and to perfect the art of parting. At the time the school had one hell of a repetition. During the evening we traveled from party to party introducing ourselves to the students. We were guests on campus and well liked. Not a campus cop was insight. Half way into the night several U-Haul guests had passed out in the back of the van. We secured their bodies as so not to roll out the back of the van while traveling. We had been well received by the students to a point that they were phoning head to other students to inform them of our arrival. We were soon being greeted on the front lawns. A good time to be had by all.

A roomer had fired up that Otis and his Posse had arrived in down town Amherst. Upon hearing this Jeff gathered all conscious guest to get back in the van and we set off to see if this roomer was valid. Somewhere downtown Amherst the van slowed down and stopped. Blue flashing light was coming through the cracks of the roll-up van door, not good it was obviously the cops. We quiet down to a low roar. Out of nowhere the back door flung open. The local Chief of Amherst had enough experience with law enforcement to know that a moving traveling around down town at midnight was enough reason, as far as he was concerned, to pull over and check out what the “why” part of it was. He had a large black flash light that part timed as a billy club. Once he put his sights on what was going down in the back of the van, he turned around and then turned back facing us and shouted “GET THIS F##**’N VAN INTO THIS PARKING LOT, NOW.”

He wasn’t polite about it. There was way too much paper work involved to hall us in and being the Chief of Police, he was apparently short handed as far as staff is concerned.

With out complaining Jeff pulled into the parking lot, jumped out of the drivers seat to chat with the Chief. The Chief further explained that if he seen this vans on the road again tonight that he would arrest us all. We agreed to his demands, it sounded as if he meant it. Jeff assured the cop that we would be in full compliance with his orders. Some of the van guests were able to sleep, personally I do not remember sleeping and if I did it was a brief nap.

By 10am the next morning all guests had awaken. We set off for Campus. It was still a bit early for the show but crowds of concertgoers were arriving in droves. The field in front of the stage was soon filled with a sea of heads. The crowd over flowed into the adjacent parking lot. Folks with out tickets were showing up. Ambulances were coming and going with a wide variety of wounded. Again I do not remember seeing much in the way of law enforcement but paramedics were abundant. This was the mid-eighties and we, as a society, were still in the dark ages with plenty of violence if that’s what you seeked. Violence has never been my cup of tea and I stayed clear.

Otis’s daughter (I believe her name, Delite) had a smash hit on the radio and she was the first performer to hit the stage. I remember her sounding fantastic thanks to the person running the soundboard. The soundboard was dialed in perfectly. She was well received by the crowd and exited the stage with a very wide smile.

With a relaxing brake between sets the paramedics caught up with the wounded. Newspapers reported several broken bones, bloody noses; dozens of bruised egos and one stabbing. Otis and his Posse stormed the stage, the crowd erupted. Personally I was stone straight having my fill of drinking the night before.

At that time I believe Otis was in his early forties. You younger folks would consider this age being the end of the road it wasn’t , Otis was in his prime and possibly at the height of his career in entertainment. On this day Otis was working the crowd and that large chrome microphone. I remember his performance vividly. Over the years some shows I remember and some I have completely forgotten this one stuck. He held that microphone like the Queens jewels and no one was going to steal it from him. Prior to the film being released Otis had a mildly successful career until Animal House was release this propelled him into the limelight. He was completely enjoining it and it showed during this performance. There is a real possibility that Otis was at the height of his career according to the amount of people that showed up at this concert there were thousands. All corners of that stage had been worked over by Otis and the Knights. He exited the set with a tremendous roar from the crowd, a day I and many thousands of others have never forgotten.

I have heard on the radio and other media outlets trash Otis as some kind of one hit wonder. Claiming he made a career out of one song, first lets get the facts straight Otis Day and the Knights had several hits as far radio airplay is concerned. One hit wonder is bullshit. This particular guest on a radio talk show is a piece of shit for talking like this. Some radio talk show host feel some psychological need to bad mouth every thing and every body they can to falsely promote their bullshit to fame. This type of daily negativity gets old real fast…

Otis and the Knights rode the wave of fame for years. That one song he so much wanted was his to keep. Thousands upon thousands of people who have seen Otis perform will confirm that Otis is a great entertainer. Otis Day and the Knights hit the stage with the jewels that shined loud and long for all to see. That one song that so many musician seek was his; not you, not me, not anybody was going to take it from him.
Creative Commons Copyright by
Dess Dermondy

Dinner Bell

Dinner Bell






Uncommon valley, an area that is well hidden from common roads. The road leading to it is an undisruptive type of road, dirt built as to not give away to folks passing by of its existence. Living up here in the mountains there are many places of the same nature that I consider rewards for choosing the good life. The uncommon valley has become one of my well kept secrets and adds years to ones life. Many mental health “experts” charge thousands of dollars to offer answers to peace of mind that the valley has to offer for free of charge. Some of the locals refer to this part of northeast as Gods country. Believing that there is truth to that statement is to see for your self. Driving down a tall, purposely kept dirt, hill that is heavily lined with thick brush and trees, I enter into a small well-hidden valley. It opens up with out any warning with green fields lined with mountains, which encase the fields and several simple homes within. I would like to mention the name of the mountains but prefer to let the hunt begin. At one time the fields must have produced an income for the folks who once lived there. Evidence supports this statement with barns and rusty old farm equipment that now line the over grown fields. The oil soaked barns, dark and brown, are not in use as they once were but now available to artist paintings. Fortunately not been torn down and have taken on a new meaning. Once a storage area never quite big enough, now a relaxing image.

In the middle of the fields stand three oddly placed trees. I say oddly because it makes no sense to a casual eye on why they are there. Probably placed there to shade the farmer at midday, as he would take a break in the field rather than traveling to the house. The intriguing part to the trees is the unexplained stonewall. Round gray boulders stacked four high above the ground and most likely three to four stones below the ground. They run past the trees by ten feet on either side. There is no logical explanation for its existence for I sat for several hours trying to explain in logic why they are there. It is possible that this farmer held a local degree in mental health. While setting up this lively hood for his family he, with out question had a rime and reason for the placement of the stonewall, just at this current writing it goes unexplained. Maybe some one in his family could explain better by simply looking at what he saw.

Looking at the trees you slowly begin to notice that the branches are pointing in a southeasterly direction. The winds of time coming down off the mountains have formed this branch direction over many years. The trees elected not to fight the Mother Nature yet incorporate her in how they grow. Standing fifty to sixty feet high I would guess that they are 100 plus years old. Branches gracefully swaying in the breeze a though of love comes to mind for there is no question that love has hung around the trunks on sunny days. Local teens daydream during school hours about returning home to meet among the branches. Surly many hundreds of curious smiles accompanied with curious glances have meet under the branches. Long summer days made short by mothers who decided for “no apparent reason” to have dinner two hours earlier than normal. Perhaps instinctively knowing to sound the alarm of the triangular dinner bell. Two mothers on opposite sides of the valley coincidentally make an evening arrive early. One father, hearing the dinner bell, enters the kitchen having day of common patterns and predictable moves abruptly cut short. Entering the kitchen and scrunching his eyebrows, looks around the kitchen with out asking any questions, looking for evidence to why his day has been cut short. He knows better than to question his wife’s decision for he has learned well in the past. She looks at him briefly and tells him to “sit, dinner is ready.”

Several hundred yards past the trees lay the mountains. They rise up, not that high but high enough to make you bend your neck to see the tree less tops. Covered with lush greens. Much rain has fallen recently and the foliage has taken full advantage of this. They have multiplied their growth to hide any evidence of ground beneath it. The clouds roll down from the northwesterly direction and gather steam. Tending to bounce off the mountains in search of a path of least resistance. While bouncing they reform into different shapes and forms of indescribable blotters. The trees continually point in the direction that they must follow. The clouds agree but show some resistance to a known of the valley, that a path has already been chosen for them.

While I was enjoying the scenery, I relit a cig stashed in my leather jacket. Noticing a chipmunk scurrying across the dirt road, apparently busy taking care of her home. She jumps on top of a rock to get a birds eye view, in search of her mate. You see, the male species can conveniently lose focus on what we need to do when it comes to home chores. Commonly coming up with reasons of better things to do that will benefit our families and becoming quite good at it. “My dear, I have money to be made elsewhere” he states. She is not disturbed by his answer only content. The rain starts to fall again and I must go.

It is a beautiful part of town and when I do not feel well I visit it to get that pleasant feeling again. That feeling… that it is good to be alive.

Creative Commons Copyright by
Dess Dermondy

My Grandfather, gramps, and that ghost in the car

My Grandfather MacDonald holds a special place in my heart. Grand parents should hold a spot in every ones heart. To this day I miss him. Many times I think of the Christmas tree that they had year after year. A simple tree, silver in color, with colorful ordenments. At times I would poke at the ornaments and watch them twirl with all the colors of the rainbow shinning by reflection from the moon outside the window. Colorful wrappings covering presents. I would stare at that tree for long periods of time and enjoy its simple pleasure. A warm feeling always came to me. During these times the apartment would be filled with all the delights, fruits, and bowls of nuts and the scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.


I would visit my Grandfather and Grandmother mostly on weekends. Gramps was manager and maintenance of the apartment buildings located in Waltham Massachusetts. He took care of them 7 days a week and on occasion we would travel to his home away from work in Kingston, MA. Gramps put me to work while visiting in a way to relieve some of the energy that a young man can have and would also put some much needed cash in my pocket. One of the many chores was to take out the trash, dozens of bags at a time. Tend to the boilers in the basement and mechanical and electrical equipment in need of repairs. The main job I had was to vacuum the hallways of all the buildings; there are 4 buildings with several floors in 2 of them. One other task was to walk a dog of one of the tenants in the building, an easy task. A small poodle type of dog, I am not sure of the breed. The dog was a single woman who I vaguely remember but do remember having a crush on her. I do remember her being a beautiful woman. When vacuuming the halls I would take much pride in making sure all areas were clean to my Grandfathers liking. I guess I was looking for his approval in which he always gave positive statements. In the morning he would wake up early and I would be waiting for him to come out of their bedroom. Making coffee was his first priority, the percolator type you rarely see today. A bulb on top in which you could see through. You could see the coffee percolating. Two pieces of toast, lightly brown in color. Lightly buttered to flavor. Always, I waited for him to bite into his toast first. Gramps had white hair that he combed with the same black comb that always laid on the bathroom sink. A few swipes with the comb and his hair would be set for the day. I would stand at the doorway in awe of my Grandfather. I guess this was with the same passion a son would to his father. My father was long gone so my Grandfather took his place in stature. With thick black rimmed glasses in which I rarely seen off his face. He would sit in the same morning chair with me waiting for the daily chores to begin.

The truck he used maintaining the properties was incredibly interesting for a young kid. The truck was a mess. The dashboard was torn open to reveal the mechanism that controlled the windshield wipers. Every now and then during rainstorms the wiper mechanism would hang up. Gramps would reach in like a surgeon and maneuver the levers to get the mechanism to function. Gramps was constantly grinding the gears of the transmission while shifting. Apparently the transmission on the truck was a bit tricky to function. Jumper cables were stored behind the seat and used often. I remember in the bank parking lot on several occasions him asking passer byers and friends for a jump start. The furthest I remember him traveling in this truck was to the dump located across town. As much trouble as this truck gave my Grandfather, he never traded her for a new one or newer one for that matter.



Gramps didn’t have many friends that I knew of and had few acquaintances. The people he did talk to were always the same people. I would recognize them and there were few.

One particular day of interest gramps and I were loading trash in the back of the old pick-up truck when a screech of wheels came around the corner of the parking lot. The timing of this car was in time with us exiting the building. To a haul not 15 feet from the building exit and the driver’s door swung open before the car came to a complete halt. A man I have never seen before jumped out with an expression of complete panic on his face. Being from the projects I knew when it was time to leave, a time just to watch and a time to duck. This was a time to not move and just watch, dropping the bag I held, I waited. My grandfather walked slowly to the man who stood at the car. He started to plead with gramps. I could not hear what was being said yet the man was slapping the back of his right hand onto the palm of his left with plenty of words in between. Half bent over and veins protruding the skin on his face. Gramps grabbed the man with one hand and pulled him further away from where I was standing, I watch my grandfather intensely and ready to back him up. Gramps said little with short statements, with an expressionless face. The man obviously was in trouble of some kind. He appeared to thank my grandfather several times by grabbing my grandfather’s hand and shaking it vigorously. Jumping back in his car, this was still running, and slammed the gear selector in reverse. He accelerated out of sight. Gramps walked to me slowly with his head down. When he came to a short distance from me he rose his head and looked at my eyes waiting for me ask what was going on. I looked back at gramps and asked him like the friend he is “what’s wrong.” More worried about my grandfather than this unknown. Gramps began to tell me: “he is a federal witness in a murder trial and that there are two guys after him, there’s nothing I can do.” And something about a shot gun. I never seen or heard about that ghost in the car again. Back in the seventies if you were marked by organized crime you instantly had no friends and it was just a matter of time before you were found and then gone.

The interesting part,  is years later a high school friend who’s grandfather is named MacDonald, different last name, was one of the ten most wanted by the FBI. We would get quite a chuckle by visiting the local police department and seeing his picture on the poster yet that weekend we were getting home made wine off of him. (I recently read a book by a retired FBI agent who claims this was not his wine but made by a member of the Winter Hill Gang). All the FBI had to do was simple follow a couple of teenagers and they had their man, Joseph MacDonald family no relation to gramps. Recently Howie Carr of Boston radio fame wrote a book on Hit Men; in there I believe I will find out what went on with that ghost in the car. Today there is a file in the offices of the FBI on McGrath which is my born name, I’ve seen it. They keep track of family members for only one reason and that is you can go either way, criminally or law abiding, it’s in your blood. The FBI really never intended on finding MacDonald. Eventually they took him down at Penn Station in New York for the theatrics of it all. What they don’t mention is that Joseph MacDonald led a long life and was convicted at the age of eighty. Much corruption existed back in the early eighties during the agent, Connelly days of the FBI. Anyone who reads the newspapers even on occasion will remember the headlines during the nineties when the corruption was exposed.

The wine in question was kick ass. It gave me serious hang over that even at a young age kept me in bed until noon. Kept in a thick green bottle with lots of grape skin inside. The taste was harsh. The cost was free.

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 Dess Dermondy

General Electric comes to bat

Many opinion makers and others have been talking about the lack of jobs in this country. I believe everybody knows by now that there is a significant shortage of jobs. We do not need to be told that jobs are an issue, we know that. What is in question is how to fix or reverse a trend in motion. The answer lies with the Regan Administration tactics against foreign motorcycle companies flooding the US with their motorcycles. In the early 80’s the Harley-Davidson Motorcycle Company was on a path of bankruptcy. Executives and former owners of the company got together to buy the company back from AMF. The problem was several. The company had quality control problems mounting and the floodgate was open for foreign motorcycles. Retooling of the company as far as making a better product was conclusive with the managers as possible. This would take large amounts of cash and backing by investment houses. Both achievable. What the executives needed was support from the US Government. The support they requested and received was as follows. Foreign Motorcycle companies were flooding the market with alarming numbers just to bring their [product to the masses and it was working. They made no money on the motorcycles them selves but on accessories and parts. The motive worked and was putting the only American made motorcycle out of business in short order. They devised a business plan with the help of the Reagan Administration to levy heavy import tariffs against foreign motorcycle manufactures. Sense these manufactures were willing to sell their product for less than retail value the government levied these taxes to make up the difference. This put their motorcycle prices in line with Harley Davidson. This saved an American icon. The details are many but the system worked.




Today we as US workers are faced with the same problem. Manufacturing has all but ceased in this country. The problem is US companies and foreign companies have their products made mostly in China. The products cost the same or a bit less when these same products were produced in the US. The solution to manufacturing job loss lies with the workable Reagan Administration tax levy to bring the importation of products in line with US made products (if you can find any). I personally would like it to start with General Electrics Solar Energy manufacturing unit. GE came up to bat for the US worker recently by building these wafers in the US. They could have easily and more profitably made them overseas, they decided against it. If the US government were truly supportive of the US worker it would levy heavy taxes against any and all imported products to the US. To encourage a new view for US manufacturing. The details would be many. This would cost some to the US population but would bring back manufacturing back to this country and put people back to work. Foreign countries pay their employees 10 cents on the dollar for their workers. Levy heavy import taxes to bring pay rates inline with US workers. If this foreign government raises worker pay, lower import taxes inline with pay hikes. You achieve two fold: manufacturing back to the US, Humanitarian support of grossly under paid workers in foreign countries.                                                             Creative Commons Copyright by
Dess Dermondy

The reason why cigeretts are located behind the counter, 1971

I watch TV from time to time to catch up on the news of the world. Recently I have lost interest in television for a variety of reason I not particularly interested in discussing. 80% of channels on cable are useless and boring. Having no TV is mostly ok but at times I miss it. One day while watching TV, a commercial promoting teaching a child to be honest. The boy, at the age of 6, ripped off a model airplane from a local store. The father had the boy, rightfully, return the airplane back and apologize to the owner. The owner greeted the incident with a smile for the boy who was being honest. This is the proper way to teach a child rather than becoming mad and yelling at the child for something that he wanted but apparently afraid to ask for. Maybe the boy was petrified to ask for the toy as history may indicate. The parent was dressed to appear to be able to afford such a small gift. These small gifts can and will leave a memory that will last a life time, think of your memories of minor yet rewarding incidents.


At the age of 6 I was living in the Prospect Hill Projects located in Waltham Massachusetts. At that time the projects were all I knew and I knew more than most kids twice my age, some good some bad. On occasion we (the group that I hung with all project kids) would venture out side the walls of the project fence to a local store (I forget the name but it was located next to A&P Supermarket). Bernie who is approximately 3 years older than most of us, led the group by default (his age gave him seniority). “Hay lets head for the store to pick up some things.” The things were always the same, candy, cigarettes, rubber bands and (yes) hairpins. Keeping in mind we were only 6 years of age. Those of you who have children in this age bracket try to in vision them doing this, I have a son and could never imagine him doing what I have done (the enviourement in which you live in can and will have a dramatic affect on you). We did not devise a plan on who would be located where when we entered the store or positions. We simply knew what to do. Bernie would normally be the “pick” but on occasion this would change by direction of a clerk who would start to ask questions to some one else. When Bernie was the “pick” he would fire up a conversation with the closest clerk in order to distract her from our positions. It work each and every time. In the sixties and early seventies cigarettes were located out in front of the counter and not behind the counter. They were easy pickings. Candy, always on the list, was second to be heisted the prime targets were root bear barrels and hot balls. Yes hairpins and rubber bands were third. This is referred to as the Old lady style. The u shaped hairpin made of thin steel. The hairpins fit nicely around the rubber bands and we used them as projectiles against cars. All this thieving was accomplished inside three minuets, we were that good. With pockets full of dividable goods we would head out of the store and back to common ground. Cigarettes use to be located in front of the counter and were easy for the taking if you had a good story to tell the clerk. One to two packs each, which totaled a large number. Candy removed by the hand full later to be divided up somewhat equally. Bernie always managed to end up with more than the rest of us. The strong arm of the group, we never complained. We never giggled and act like it was a big deal like we have never done it before. Back in those days when you were poor you had nothing but one pair of cheap sneaks and the privileged had a bicycle. Cigarettes are now located behind the counter, starting with this store which was most likely one of the first to move the cigs for we removed them illegally in large numbers. The tally at the end of the night was far from where it should have been. Between us under 10 year olds and the teenage crowd heisted the A&P (which is long gone bankrupted) for steaks and other goodies used for barbeques later in the evening fueled by alcohol and lord knows what else. The store we heisted later required (with a posted sign) that children under the age of 15 be accompanied by adults. This ruined some of our weekends for a short time there after.

Back to the hairpins. Hairpins and rubber bands are a volatile combination. Dividing these up somewhat equally we would head for the local bushes. When cars would pass we opened fired…dink dink dink of the steel panels of cars and trucks. On occasion brakes would lock up and screeching of tires rang out. Followed by reverse lights coming on. The folks in the cars never got out to chase us for we were long gone by that time. This was one of our greatest adventures on weekends.

As far as cigarettes go we never really inhaled them and at the time cigarettes were in vogue (I wish I never started smoking). Simple puffs on them, sell them or trade them off for firecrackers. I don’t believe we knew how to inhale them. I look at my son today and can never picture him even remotely doing this in any way, remember the enviourment in which we live in can have a dramatic affect on you. My mother to this day doesn’t like the idea of the fact that my 2 brothers and me grew up in the projects but interestingly some the funniest stories she tells come directly from the project error of our life. This story telling would normally come around chrismess time after 2 glasses of wine. One that is told from year to year is the one of the stolen radio from her car. A 1973 Chevy Nova. The radio was stolen the night before and my mother phoned the local police to assist the desk Sargent in the investigation of the stolen radio. After explaining the situation the desk Sargent responded “can’t you people handle this” referring to neighbors. Ask any retired cop from this era and they will confirm that the police never went inside the projects with out massive back ups. Apparently it was a rough place to venture, I never seen it. Living there was no concern about safety or walking around the projects as long as you were from there. If you weren’t from there you better have a good reason to be there and if it was trouble you were looking for it was trouble you found. Many were sent home with there tail between their legs. Looking back I do not recall ever seeing some one who was not from there.

Back to Brandeis. Going to Brandeis was a blast. The students took us everywhere by bus car or by foot. We rarely stayed put at the school we simple were too much to handle. At one time in my life I knew just about every corner of that Campus. Hanging out around students was interesting yet we were probably a pain in the butt to them for we had plenty of questions to ask of them. Makes it difficult to study when you have a runny nose kid 2 feet from you asking non-stop questions. The Gold fishpond located at near the entrance to the school has plenty of Gold fish. They are trapped in a small man made circle of stone and always hungry. You could cast to one side of the pond with a good cast of the fishing rod. The fish were easy pickings. A large in circumference security guard would chase us from time to time but never made it past 20 yards in foot pursuit. He received plenty of heckling while attempting to chase us. One of the most memorable things of Bradeis is the over night camping we did on rear occasions.

One of the and probably the most biggest tree forts you would have come across we built. Located a good 30 feet in the air with plenty of head room between the fort and the ground to cause serious damage if one fell. It was 3 stories high and took a week for the maintenance department of Waltham to disassemble it. It was amazing that we were left alone to build it in the first place.

My friends and me backed each other up in the project right or wrong the details of any conflict would be worked out later. We were project kids and viewed by many as being out castes because we never had money. In those days being poor was a crime and we were felons. If you picked on one us you picked on all of us. We surrounded you and made you very aware that you were not going to win. We were left alone most of the time by using this tactic and very rarely got in a fight.

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Dess Dermondy