Last week, I lamented the lack of free (and low cost) shows this summer. This, by no means, indicate a lack of quality shows to attend; it just means parting with many, many pennies to access them. My intended lineup of summer shows remains in flux. But, a schedule of sorts appears to show some promise.  

A few weeks ago Fred blogged about his version of “ Afterlife.” The subject fascinated me . And so I’ve decided to put pen to paper and investigate this concept with a deeper dive . Fred , Paul and I have been touching on it superficially over the last few weeks . So here we go . Indulge me if you choose to .     We are talking about that period from which we retire or in other words quit working for the man so to speak and the final curtain.  

One of the very very special things in my Afterlife is the weekend ritual of having batting practice with my 51 year old son David and his 20 year old son Jackson, my Batman teammates (pictured), at the local school yard. We bring a box of balls, take turns as one hits, one pitches and one shags.

The hotel is losing its soul. The building hasn’t changed. Rooms are as nice as ever. But people have left. Others may be leaving. The friendly welcome at reception is not what it used to be. The people whose smiles greet us are not happy and we feel it. The soul of the hotel is the people. The soul is leaving.

I used to get in trouble for talking in class when I was in grade school. In high school, my German teacher gave me detention for talking too much in class. Although she said, we could talk as much as we wanted, as long as it was in German. She lied. In college, I taught aerobics and kickboxing-now I was shouting for an hour straight! Maybe talking in class is a sign of some other skill set? My son is a talker. He could talk the ears off a brass monkey. Hmmmmm.. The art of communication. The art of framing thoughts and crafting argument through linear dialogue.

  It was one of those crazy commutes this morning. At every turn, something went wrong – and I had to be at a meeting at 10 am. I hate those pressure filled kind of mornings.

As I sat down to write this blog, I had no idea as to what I would write about.  I started surfing the net for inspiration but found much of the news, especially that out of Virginia Beach, upsetting and  depressing.  

As Summer approaches I traditionally look forward to posting a list of free concerts by originals artists. I viewed the Long Island listings and found a bevy of cover bands, many in rock genres I enjoy. At this time, I remain unready to lock in dates the way I might if I bought tickets for a show.