Bobby Minara was a firefighter in Manhattan.
Ladder Company 25.
On September 11, 2001, he was 54 years old and almost ready to retire.
I found the next little snippet online from a woman named ‘Rita’ that knew the family.

“The last time I was with Bob was July of 2001.
Bob and Paula and my brothers Tom and Mike were all together to celebrate the baptisim of my daughter’s triplets, John, Michael, and Thomas.
He was his usual happy self and he had
three shirts from the firehouse for the boys (they still wear them).
Bob was going to retire in September and I remember Paula telling us she had a “sick feeling” and she wished he would leave now.  Bob laughed and said “I’m 54, how can I retire “He felt guilty”.
I’ll always remember that day.”

Intuition is a scary thing sometimes.
I wondered how many people had a ‘feeling’ that morning 8 years ago.
From what I’ve been able to find on the web,
Bobby was a regular guy with family and friends that loved him.
He died in the line of duty at the World Trade Center.
In researching this post, I was horrified at the number of firefighters and emergency personnel that perished.
I found the picture for this post on Google and could only assume that the memorial stone is near Ground Zero
or the firehouse.
When I visit NYC next year, I plan on finding the stone if only to say a short prayer
for the man I am paying tribute to today.

My thoughts and prayers go out to the Minara family today as I know this nightmare will
never end for them.
Bobby died doing what he’d done his entire life – helping a total stranger to safety.
May God bless this unsung hero and give solace to all the hearts that he left behind.
In closing, I found a quote from a firefighters remembrance page.
It was quite simple and I could almost hear Bobby saying it:

“If my job was easy, a cop would be doing it.”

Rest in the arms of the angels, RM
Thank you for keeping us safe.

(I hope I haven’t offended anyone using his nickname  ‘Bobby’. I used it with the utmost respect.)

Click here for my 2006 tribute to Amy Jarret, a stewardess on United Airlines Flight 175.

Special thanks to Dale for keeping this thing going with his undying focus.
There’s a very special place in heaven for you, my man.

I’ve always loved this song.
Enjoy.

“Excepting one note, pure and easy
Playing so free like a breath rippling by . . . “

There are days when my eyes open on the world and I see things as they are.
I notice the difference immediately because most days my vision is subconsciously selective;
I see the things the way I want to see them.
Today, I saw sadness.
I know, big surprise, huh?
On my way to lunch I saw a woman sitting in the rain by a water fountain and she was crying as she talked softly on her cell phone. I heard her say, “Please just don’t . . . ”
It seemed like I was the only person in the screaming city of Boston that noticed.
I felt bad as I walked by but there was nothing I could do.
Truth be told I’m no saint or archangel but when I notice a situation like this it tends to rattle me.
As a writer maybe I tend to notice a tad more than the general populace does.

I got to South Station tonight and witnessed a homeless woman counting, folding and re-folding what I assumed were her only earthly possessions.
She placed them in a rucksack that looked like it had been dragged through a muddy puddle.
And again, people walked by her without so much as a passing glance.
She was far from invisible and the look on her face told the world at large
that she was the farthest thing from a happy ending.
It was profoundly sad.
If it were another day, I may have just walked by as well, too caught up in my own life.
I sat down on the train and scratched my head wondering what highway to nada leads someone to a hell like this?

Many years ago I waited on a woman that bought her daily ciggies from me.
She always tried to look her best in terms of her hair and the clothes she wore but she could never quite pull it off.
I always felt there would be no hot fudge sundaes in her near future.
One day she stopped coming in and I would wonder for years what ever became of her.
My heart sank the day I saw her pushing a rusty old shopping cart on the sidewalks of South Main Street in a bad section of downtown Worcester.
Her cart was filled with dirty cans and empty bottles that she would undoubtedly redeem to get cash for God only knows what.
She was a broken woman and a sad commentary on a reality I pray I never have to experience.
So, is it selective vision?
Lord knows we all use it from time to time because it’s easier just to look the other way sometimes.
Maybe that’s why we also have days that we ‘see’ the world as it is.
And perhaps that’s what keeps us all just a bit more humble and human in the end.
Say a prayer the next time you see a fallen angel walking the walk.
It can only help.

Say hello to ‘Sebastian’s Voodoo’ . . .

Any questions?

Did anyone see this coming?
Poor Manny.
Oh, shit, I mean, rich Manny.
I’m struggling to pay my mortgage and this lying asswipe is making how much a year?
I’m going to bed.
Maybe I should look into some hypodermic needles.
Or not . . .

*Am I the only one that finds it mildly ironic that Ted “Chappaquiddick” Kennedy
gave the Obama’s a Portuguese Water Dog?
Kennedy supposedly owns three.
Where were they when he needed them?
Wwwwwwoof.

*Here in the US of A we give free needles to junkies and
charge diabetes patients up the wazoo for the same damn needles.
Huh?
Someone pinch me.
I must be dreaming.

*In Massachusetts, I saw a headline today that read –
Study: Tobacco funds not curbing smoking
Turns out that only $13.5 million of the annual $700 million the Baystate receives
was used for smoking cessation programs.
Well, yank my doodle, it’s a dandy.
You gotta be kidding me.
Where’s Nancy ‘MadDog’ Lugosi?

I mean Pelosi.
She’s gotta have a hand in this somehow.
What an ugly woman, inside and out.
And those choppers . . .
Nancy needs to be promoted to ‘Subterranean Truffle Inspector’ tomorrow.
Beech.

*The groundbreaking and intellectually provocative Hannah Montana movie hit theaters over the Easter weekend grossing over 34 million dollars.
For your entertainment ‘bang for the buck’ wouldn’t staying home watching the grass grow be a bit more stimulating?
It’s probably me . . .

*Tiger Woods lost in the final round of the Masters yesterday due to a pair of late bogies.
Why does this not make me feel bad?
I must be a rotten human being.

*And lastly, I thought Gmail’s *new feature ‘Auto-Pilot’ sounded really cool.
But it was only available on April Fool’s Day. {sigh}

Just my mind at play folks . . .

COLD IS A RELATIVE THING.

65 above zero:
Floridians turn on the heat.
People in Massachusetts plant gardens.

60 above zero:
Californians shiver uncontrollably.
People in Massachusetts sunbathe.

50 above zero:
Italian & English cars won’t start.
People in Massachusetts drive with the windows down.

40 above zero:
Georgians don coats, thermal underwear, gloves, wool hats.
People in Massachusetts throw on a flannel shirt.

35 above zero:
New York landlords finally turn up the heat.
People in Massachusetts have the last cookout before it gets “Cold”.

20 above Zero:
People in Miami all die.
Bay Staters close the windows.

Zero:
Californians fly away to Mexico .
People in Massachusetts get out their winter coats.

10 below zero:
Hollywood disintegrates.
The Girl Scouts in Massachusetts are selling cookies door to door.

20 below zero:
Washington DC runs out of hot air.
People in Massachusetts let the dogs sleep indoors.

30 below zero:
Santa Claus abandons the North Pole.
Bay Staters  get upset because they can’t start the Snow-mobile.

40 below zero :
ALL atomic motion stops.
People in Massachusetts start saying…’Cold enough for ya?’

50 below zero:
Hell freezes over.
Massachusetts public schools will have a 2 hour delay.

{it’s 8.6 degrees as I type this. Noice}

It’s been obvious to me for sometime now that I have some personal issues regarding my blog.
I spoke with a close childhood friend the other night (who occasionally reads here @Smoke and Mirrors)
and he said, “I can tell you really love your blog.”
He went on to say why he thought that way and I had to agree.
I do love my little place here.
It’s home.
As always with me, there’s a dark side, a side only seen by others like me.
It’s with that in mind that I came up with 10 blogging issues that you may be able to relate to:

If you’ve ever:

1. Fallen asleep at your laptop (sitting up) while updating your plugins, theme, blogroll or widgets, you, my friend have issues.
2. Spent longer than the time it takes to cook an 18lb turkey while looking for that elusive ‘perfect’ theme, I hope you had on your blogging Depends (for the times when the bathroom just has to wait)
3. Posted a spam email because it struck you as oddly interesting and you just happened to find the perfect accompanying picture to go with it, it’s BCD, pal
   blogging compulsive disorder
4. Had a conversation with a close non-writing friend and somehow wound up explaining how Google Adsense works, for the love of God, get checked.
5. Seriously contemplated ordering bumperstickers, t-shirts and keychain beer openers with your URL on them, you need a support group.
6. Suffered intermittent bouts of insomnia due to one of your unpublished drafts that’s been leaving you with desperate feelings of artistic inadequacy, there’s a strait jacket waiting somewhere with your name already written on it.
7. Planned an upcoming summer vacation with more than one or two people on your blogroll, you’re justifiably insane. Your wireless mouse is constantly talking to you but at least you’re happy in your own little world. Eat a Snickers. You’re nuts anyway.
8. Been jealous that Firefox can remember all 847 of your blog-related/ FTP passwords when you can’t even remember your cell phone number. There’s a word for people like you. Can’t recall what it is but yeah, you. (and me, I guess)
9. Spoken to a Verizon rep in Tucson, Arizona to get your DSL fixed and somehow managed to slip in not only your blog name but your URL as well. Crazy people can be smooth sometimes.
10. Wondered what you did with your time before you became a blogger.

I can say that this blogging thing still makes me happy
and that I am blessed to have a wife that
understands that.
Some people aren’t that lucky.
She knows what makes me tick, I guess.
And though I may tick a bit erratically sometimes,
she ultimately understands.
I’m nuts, but at least I’m lucky.
Don’t get much better than that.

“Still looking for that blue jean, baby queen
Prettiest girl I ever seen
See her shake on the movie screen, blog on . . .”
BLOG ON.

I have no idea what the fine folks at Ben & Jerry’s are smoking these days but they have some of the tackiest advertisements for ice cream that my eyes have ever had the misfortune to read.
The ads are so cutesy they make me want to stir fry a litter of Chihuahua’s.
Well, almost.
I hear they taste just like chicken.
Ice cream in January around here is almost as enticing as a hot cup of soup on the 4th of July.
It just doesn’t make meteorological (or logical) sense.
Like these Ben & Jerry’s ads.
I saw an ad at B&J’s a month or so ago for one of their frozen concoctions called ‘Whirled Peace’.
Ugh.
Gag me with a maggot.
The proverbial turd floating in the crapper was something I happened to notice last Tuesday.
Are you ready?
Get your tie-dye barf bags out.
The flavor du-jour (I didn’t even bother to see exactly what it schwas) was something called, ‘Yes, Pecan’, in honor of the big O’s inauguration.
Yes, Pecan?
You have got to be shitting me.
Lame, lame, lame.
Well, smack my ass an call me Betty, who was the slogan-making machine that penned that one?
They should be brought out to pasture and neutered.
Over the years, slogans have always managed to catch my attention, especially when they’re real bad.
(like B&J’s)
I found a few funny things floating in cyberspace regarding slogans gone over to the dark side:

• Clairol introduced the “Mist Stick”, a curling iron, into Germany only to find out that “mist” is slang for manure.
• Colgate introduced a toothpaste in France called Cue, the name of a notorious porno magazine.
• Coors put its slogan, “Turn it loose,” into Spanish, where it was read as “Suffer from diarrhea.”
• Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer Electrolux used the following in an American campaign: “Nothing sucks like an Electrolux.”
• When Gerber started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as in the U.S., with the beautiful Caucasian baby on the label. Later they learned that in Africa, companies routinely put pictures on the label of what’s inside, since most people can’t read.
• The Coca-Cola name in China was first read as “Ke-kou-ke-la”, meaning “Bite the wax tadpole” or “Female horse stuffed with wax”, depending on the dialect. Coke then researched 40,000 characters to find a phonetic equivalent: “ko-kou-ko-le”, translating into “Happiness in the mouth.”
• In Taiwan, the translation of the Pepsi slogan, “Come Alive With the Pepsi Generation,” came out as “Pepsi Will Bring Your Ancestors Back From The Grave” in Chinese.
• Also in Chinese, the Kentucky Fried Chicken slogan, “Finger-Lickin’ Good” came out as “Eat Your Fingers Off.”
• Frank Perdue’s chicken slogan, “It takes a strong man to make a tender chicken” was translated into Spanish as “It takes an aroused man to make a chicken affectionate.”
• When General Motors introduced the Chevy Nova in South America, it was apparently unaware that “No Va” means “It Won’t Go.” After the company figured out why it was not selling any cars, it renamed the car in its Spanish markets to the Caribe.
• Ford had a similar problem in Brazil when the Pinto flopped. The company found out that Pinto was Brazilian slang for “Tiny Male Genitals.” Ford pried all the nameplates off and substituted “Corcel”, which means horse.
• When Parker Pen marketed a ballpoint pen in Mexico, its adds were supposed to say, “It Won’t Leak In Your Pocket And Embarrass You.” However, the company mistakenly thought the Spanish word “embarazar” meant embarrass. Instead the ads said that “It Won’t Leak In Your Pocket And Make You Pregnant”

The psychology of slogans fascinates me.
And come to think of it, after reading these, maybe Ben & Jerry’s isn’t so bad after all.
Bite the wax tadpole?
Evyl must have had something to do with that one . . .