Holiday Season

The holiday season tip-toes toward you-- reddish leafy nights and trick or treaters in costumes with candy bags-- fog creeps across children's shoes and demonic cackles and ghostly boos by screen doors and before you have time to give candy away, Thanksgiving stands before you: fat basted turkeys, football games and eggnog-- families stroll the walkway, passed pockets of snowdrift that surround the sunken black toothed pumpkin named Bob but, inside the warmly lit living-room you eat, linger, and dream-- strung out on the couch thoughtless and satiated and when you leave, Christmas advertisements fly like Kamikaze's and Christmas classics inundate the airwaves; to the attic you bound with your pilgrim hats and turkey mats and down, one stepping your boxes of red, green and white ornaments and lights into living-rooms and windows, soon the sweet scent of pine and the crinkle of wrapping paper fill the air and the joy is immense and fleeting as the countdown begins, the Times Square ball, marking the passage of time and it drops. You wake in the fatigued hangover of the new year and the holidays have slipped away. You will then spiral along in the cold dark abyss of winter, waiting profoundly for spring. Good night.

Christmas memories

I wish I had the kind of memory that could reach back in time to when I was 8 years old and remember all the way back to last year, 2015. I don't. I remember bits and pieces, feelings I had, events and images.

One year, probably 1983- 84 when I was going through a horrible adjustment period in my new Randolph life. I had no friends. The other kids didn't seem to like me. I kept to myself. One day I happened to see a book on the spinning book rack at Fernandes Supermarket called, No one Here Gets out Alive. It's fiery orange yellow cover and threatening title grabbed my eye. I bought it with my paper route money. I loved it. It spoke to me. Morrison's loner mentality struck a chord. He made writing poetry cool. I was a closet writer at the time but not poetry. It made me want to be a writer, a poet, a song writer and cool crazy mother fucker. So I started dabbling in drugs. I always wore my hair somewhat long and now I really let it grow. I started sneaking booze from my dad's bar and cigarettes from my mom's carton. My parents observed my change. They knew I was listening to The Doors and totally immersed in a Jim Morrison lifestyle. They weren't happy about it but there really wasn't anything they could do except try and talk to me or just wait it out. The Christmas of 1984 there was only one thing I wanted: An American Prayer. It was a spoken word album combining Morrison's poetry with original music by the band, released posthumously. I knew I wasn't going to get it for Christmas and that I'd have to save my paper route money to get it. Well, after the presents were all revealed, colored wrapping paper torn in balls all over the floor beside the big blinking Christmas tree, my mom pulled the old, "what's that behind the bar" routine. When they brought it over to me I knew it was a record by its size and shape obviously. I held it like a golden egg, somewhat in disbelief. Then I opened it and saw the capital A-- at which point my mom smiled and said to my dad, "I'm not sure if this was a good idea." Eventually this phase of my life would fizzle out and by 1985, though still a fan of Morrison and the Doors, the infatuation was long gone. By 1985, I would meet new friends who would become friends for life. But, I'll always remember that gift and how difficult a decision it must have been for both of them yet they wanted to bring a little enjoyment into my troubled life.
 

A Note to the apprentice.

A note to any apprentice who's on the verge of taking his test. If you have not been in an electrical school environment within the passed year and a half, I highly suggest a refresher course. I failed my test badly, both parts. I hadn't opened the code book or calculated any formulas-- not even simple ohms law equations since 2010, my final year at Leo Martin. In 2016, my paperwork approved by PSI, I figured what the hell, let's get this thing done. But like I said, I got my ass kicked with a 56%. I realized I was in over my head and I had to take a refresher course and mid September I signed up for the Leo Martin course. Right away he started hitting on questions and answers, many of which I saw on the test, scored right or wrong. I relearned how to use the ampacity tables, load calculations, grounding and yes ohms law. So the week after the last class I made my appointment in Fall River (closest immediate date), went in, shaking like a leaf. It was still hard, very hard actually and at one point I thought I might fail again. However, I had the knowledge to navigate some of the trickier questions this time and I knew now that PSI worded their questions sometimes to trick you or make you think you have a quick easy answer. Two examples come to mind. The question is about hallway receptacles. Most apprentices know that you need one every ten feet. But on test day when you're already jumpy, they ask, in a hallway, what is the amount of feet before you need a receptacle. You look down at the answers and there is ten feet, right there first answer and you automatically jump at it because you didn't really read the question. Before is the key word. You look further down and there is 9 feet, the correct answer. Another one involves switches and again most apprentices know that every six stairs where there is a platform, a switch must be installed. So you get the question, how many stairs must you exceed before you have to install a switch. Bam. There it is, first answer A. 6 stairs. But again, exceeds is the operative word. You exceed 5 stairs before you must install a switch. Anyway, the test is filled with little PSI tricks. If you want to just try and get it your first time by all means but if you fail, trust me, take a refresher course. It was the best $750.00 I've ever spent. On my exams these were the test properties, if you will.

Part 1
general knowledge 8
services 11
grounding and bonding 7
wiring methods and devices 18
motors 4
transformers 1
low-voltage distribution 2
special occupancies and equipment 5
overcurrent protection 6
lighting 2
alarm systems 6


Part 2
circuit calculations 5
electrical schematics and plans 5
materials and components 6
trouble shooting and testing 6
massachusetts amendments 6
licensing laws and regulations 2

So now the question asks. Do I want to go for my Masters? I mean at this point in my career I don't plan on starting up a business. By most accounts, its not going to give me a huge pay raise just having it. If I did go for it, it would most likely be just for the prestige of having a masters license. It's really just a business certificate anyway. I don't know. I really just want to be a writer. Good luck kids. Study,study, study!

Here's the motivation:

Me still making $18.75 an hour

Me now making $27.00 an hour

Somehow, I guess it was fitting that afternoon after I passed my test. I left the building and fell right smack into a children's Christmas Day Parade that was marching right down Main Street passed the test center and all sorts of celebration from the crowd and parade sort of capped the excitement in my brain.

Fall River, a minute after I emerged from the test center.

aggravation

so aggravating when I start these posts, get on a roll and then something comes up and I have to stop, and get back to them later but at which point the muse or passion for it cools off.

Funny how my 90's music experiment became a summary of my life in that period, without the benefit of my journals, just on memory. Seems like my long term memory is still strong and clear but my short term weak as a fig. As far as the 90's music thing goes, I hope to reach 1999 and close it out. And touch upon a few more things I may have left out. Well, what can ya do? Suck it up and have breakfast at Tiffany's.

Me and Luke at Screamfest October 2016. Posing with statues.

Paige texted me this picture. Funny

The writer John Gardner died, two miles from his house after a motorcycle accident. I've been reading one of his books called On Becoming a Novelist and in it he describes, in a writer guilty kind of way how he and a buddy came across an accident where a young pregnant woman involved was bleeding to death. And though he did everything he could, and his buddy too, in his mind, as the writer, he was taking notes on how she bled, reacted, emotion and all the humaness surrounding this woman's death. I wonder what sort of lasting details or impressions went through his mind as his bike lost control and he crashed to his death....