The following text has been copyrighted and also registered with the U.S. Library of Congress in August 2021.  It is an excerpt from the optimistic Chapter 2 of my upcoming book!  Enjoy!

As I got older, my legs got stronger with physical therapy.  During my childhood years, our family went on annual vacations to the Jersey Shore resort town of Wildwood Crest, where fond summer memories were created with my little sister Suzanne, or Suzy.  Wearing the leg braces, I performed a song-and-dance duet with Suzy in front of our hotel’s poolside crowd.  Lip-syncing the patriotic “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” we waved our Styrofoam hats into the air as Suzy twirled around to the music.  I could hardly bend my legs trying to dance, but the audience cheered our impromptu performance.  We laughed and then politely bowed.  Her affection helped me understand at our young ages what was important in life. To her, having a positive big brother was important; my physical limitations, not so much.

Our family’s love for the Jersey Shore was apparent during other summer weekends on a beach closer to home.  Dad, however, disliked the crowds.  He could not relax with beachgoers setting up their blankets mere inches from ours, choosing instead to embrace social distancing decades before it became the new normal.  Dad had a bold plan that would keep others at a reasonable distance away: his son’s unusual taste in music.

In elementary school, I enjoyed listening to a music genre that still instills pride for my country: patriotism.  With my music collection consisting of several patriotic albums, I was the only fifth-grade student in my school who knew by heart three verses of our national anthem!  With The Star-Spangled Banner sung live before televised professional sports, I often sat by the television and recorded these national anthems onto the same audiocassette.  I did not even care to watch the game, but was only interested in recording its national anthem.  Over a period of several weeks, I had acquired 45 minutes of The Star-Spangled Banner on one side of an audiocassette, and 45 minutes on the other side.

Early on a sunny weekend morning, we arrived at an uncrowded section of the beach and set up our blanket and umbrella.  Dad asked me to start playing my audiocassette of our national anthems in addition to several other patriotic albums.  One of these albums, “Yankee Doodle Mickey,” was a collection of patriotic songs sung in the animated voices of Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, and other Walt Disney characters.

Turning down the volume setting of my hearing aids, I increased the volume of the music. Relaxing under our umbrella, I held a microphone prop and lip-synced the national anthems and the Disney songs as beachgoers walked by.  Our beach became crowded by early afternoon but the closest families were now feet away rather than inches.  Both Dad and I were happy.  We created our “island” surrounded by sand!

Loving any attention, it was years before I understood the difference between “good” and “bad” attention.

As a teenager, I often liked to imitate Dad’s lighthearted humor.  In high school, I got a job as an intern for the Monmouth County Office on Aging.  Our office offered a service called the Emergency Blue Light Program.  A lamp equipped with a flashing blue bulb, when placed in the front window, allowed emergency services to identify homes at night where participating senior citizens needed assistance.  A token placed in the socket before a bulb was inserted provided the mechanism that caused it to continuously flash.

My boss allowed me to take a token home for the night.

Arriving home before my parents, I unscrewed the bulb from Dad’s bedroom lamp.  Dropping the token into the socket, I screwed the bulb back into place and turned the lamp off, also making sure to close the shades.

The stage was set!

When Dad got home that evening, I greeted him in the kitchen and followed him upstairs to his darkened room.  He turned on his bedroom lamp and walked into the closet to take off his tie and shoes, as I sat on his bed and made small talk.  The flasher needed a minute to warm up, so the bulb gave off a steady light and then started continuously flashing on and off.

Curious, Dad walked over to the lamp, made sure the bulb was screwed in tightly, and checked to ensure the lamp was plugged into the wall.  When these actions still had no effect, he lifted the lamp up to check the wiring.

Sitting on his bed watching him and the flashing lamp, I eventually fell over on my side while breaking out in intense laughter that made it difficult to breathe.

Dad began to laugh too!  When our laughter subsided after a few minutes, I haltingly revealed, between giggles, what was cleverly placed inside the bulb socket.

With his sense of humor passed on to his son, Dad found the experience hilarious!