Poem: The Approaching Storm

On the eve of my 70th birthday, it seems I have turned into an old man shouting at the clouds... Here is the poem I read last night (before the Nor'easter hit) at The Space in Montclair, during an open mic sponsored by the New Jersey Poetry Circle. Photo courtesy of my friend, the wonderful poet Renee Dwyer.

(Yes, I wore a Notre Dame cap... #GoIrish🍀)

The Approaching Storm

I stand here, before the storm,

Wondering what our lives will be like

in the aftermath.

My parents are dead.

As I... with hair thinning, shoulders bowed... grow old.

Knowing my children will be responsible for the cleanup.

We know the storm is coming.

It is unstoppable.

We are already canceling plans.

The stars are aligned:

The trees prepared to fall,

the rising tides, the senseless violence.

Birds flock for safety.

Displaced deer are frightened.

Dogs are unleashed.

We can’t trust our leaders.

Liars, fools and bullies,

filled with false pride.

We can’t trust what might be true.

Even our churches are profit centers,

not a refuge for prophets.

I pray for our children,

but there’s little I still believe.

I still believe in the magic of threes.

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

It’s always darkest before the dawn.

And today is the dawn, the dawn, the dawn…

Today is the dawn of the approaching storm.

Poem: Update on the Abandoned Asylum

For some reason, this 10-year-old post, about an abandoned asylum in Totowa, NJ, consistently generates interest on this site -- and, yes, the information posted there is out-of-date by several years. The North Jersey Training Center has long since been demolished and replaced with a St. Joseph's Health facility.

However, more than a decade later, I offer this new poem about the same location:

Matins for Totowa

On the Feast of St. Blaise,

I wake to a hazy memory:

a criss-cross of wax pressed to my neck

at the altar of St. James of the Marches.

This church still stands on Totowa Road,

decades later, in the borough I was raised.

Here, graves outnumber the living

and the families who bear their names.

This tightness around my neck

reminds me of the ill-fitting clothes

purchased by my mother 

at a discount store called Two Guys From Harrison.

We used to walk there when I was a boy

because Mom didn’t drive.

We’d hurry down Riverview Drive,

overlooking the glen on Vreeland Avenue.

Here, spread over 180 acres,

the North Jersey Training School complex

housed the “developmentally disabled”

behind a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire.

When I was an altar boy at St. James,

Fr. Lynch, fresh from Vietnam, gathered me

to assist him for devotions at the center’s chapel,

where the pews were always full.

Full-throated Rosaries were half-sung

by the women and young children who lived there,

proclaiming the "thee," thou" and "thy"

in every "Hail Mary" with loud exclamations.

 

Because “you" and "your" did not invoke the Lord.

The archaic words invoked poetry,

and the poetry invoked magic

that today conjures my morning prayer:

I beseech thee, St. Blaise,

unmute the muffled voices

from the abandoned asylum of my past.

Give thy breath to every forgotten grave.

4 Mid-Summer Reads: 2 bad, 2 good

Let's start with the bad:

Odyssey by Stephen Fry
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

If you are considering reading this for context before seeing Christopher Nolan's movie "The Odyssey," trust me, you'll be disappointed.

Less than a quarter of the book, if that, concerns Odysseus, but you do get a lot of footnotes, references to Fry's prior works in the "great mythology" series, opinions about AI, and probably, somewhere in this haze I'm emerging from, a story about a kitchen sink. I started listening to this, but then (credit the author's marketing genius) bought the Kindle version so I could finish it more quickly. I did not like the narration.

Now, having written all that, let me admit: I've seen a preponderance of overwhelmingly positive reviews about this mythology series, and Fry's career has been remarkable. He is talented and accomplished... and not some one-off contemporary in New Jersey banging out Goodreads reviews. So, once again, I must admit, it's just me... and I won't give this less than 3 stars. But, truly, I just don't get it.

For me, it's back to Emily Wilson. Or maybe, for hoots, I'll return to the nemesis of my college days, the ghost of Richmond Lattimore. Oh, and I'm looking forward to the movie, too.

PS - 5 stars for the movie. It's excellent.


I, Robot by Isaac Asimov
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Given my obsession with AI, I thought I'd give this classic a read. I was disappointed, though. Alas, I've given up about halfway through. I found the writing out-dated or, to put it more kindly, "quaint." Here's a tip about this loosely tied short-story collection: never play a game where you take a drink at the mention of the word "positronic" every time you read it. 

Let's end with the good:

I Am Not a Robot: My Year Using AI to Do (Almost) Everything by Joanna Stern
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I enjoyed this book very much -- MUCH better than "I, Robot" which is actually referenced by Joanna Stern. It's relevant, and an easy read. I learned a few things along the way. It's not a manual on how to use AI, but it details a particular personal voyage across deep waters.

PS- Some negative review comments about this book have more to do with AI than the book itself. I wouldn't blame the author for this existential mess! 

 Theo of Golden by Allen Levi
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This "accidental novel" was rejected by a book club for being too religious or Catholic or Christian, so I read it (listened to it) anyway to see what was so spiritually radical. And, instead of religion, I entered a vast, imaginary world that uplifted my spirits. There is no dogma here, just a reaffirmation of the power of "acceptance, forgiveness, love" (Uncle Sydney's maxim in "Broadway Danny Rose").

I would have liked the book to have been shorter, because I am so impatient these days. At the same time, I would have liked the book to have been longer, because I am so impatient these days. I need to be reminded of the importance of time well spent. So now I'm imagining sitting on a park bench and talking to my friend Kathy. I'm sure you have a friend, or future friend, like that too.

PS- Here's a read on why others reject this novel: https://wendygrace.substack.com/p/why... - Now, I don't know if I should feel guilty!

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My Reading (and Fiddle Playing) Journey in First Half 2026

At the midpoint of the year (on the hottest day of the year), I'm almost halfway through my book-reading goal for the year. I might have been ahead of pace had it not been for the fiddle... and the Guinness. 🍻

Following are review, in reverse reading order:

Regime Change: Inside the Imperial Presidency of Donald Trump by Maggie Haberman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

An important work of journalism. Not a lot new here, but thorough and well-written. It will be a source for future generations. It left me despondent. 

Everything Is Tuberculosis: The History and Persistence of Our Deadliest Infection by John Green
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I admire John Green as a writer, and this short book was selected by my book club. I knew not to expect fiction, but I didn't know I'd learn so much by reading this. 

This Is Happiness by Niall Williams
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I loved this book. It took a while to get used to, since the story took its time to unfold, then took twists and turns. In the end, it was a long journey that I didn't want to end. It also explained a good bit about the sensibilities and mysterious ways of my Irish wife, which I'm grateful for! This was a lovely, life-affirming read. 

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I can't write as well as this lyrical author, but then again every page here screams, "Look at how well I can write!" Meanwhile there's the story... ostensibly a letter to his mother... which it isn't -- graphic sex, shifting POVs, flights of dense prose offset by what logo was on what t-shirt and what song was playing in the background in the author's memory of the scene.

This was another book club selection -- and I admit I'm being exposed to different authors I wouldn't normally read. Which is good. But I eventually stopped trying to read this and tried listening to it, taking the lyrical nature of the writing literally. But then I found it easier to listen to if turned the speed up to 1.2, and then 1.5. Now I can honestly say I finished the book, neither betraying my experiments in fiction nor the good intentions of the book club at my local library.


The Keeper of Lost Art by Laura Morelli
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This was an uncomplicated read, and I enjoyed the insight into the art world. I kept waiting for more about the horrors of war, but this had just enough of that to keep me reading without putting the book down. I've grown so thin-skinned lately, because today's real life is so scary. Art is still a refuge, and this book reflects that nicely.

Again, this was a book club read... and I highly recommend joining a club to explore genres you might not normally read on your own.


Lincoln in the Bardo by George Saunders
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

The good: It's like a journey through a haunted house. Atmospheric and bewildering. It also helps if you listen to the book, since it has so many narrative voices.

The bad: I remember reading George Saunders' "A Swim in the Pond in the Rain." It was, as AI reminds me, "a masterclass on writing... focusing on the technical craft of storytelling and the connection between writer and reader." If only George (and I feel, especially after reading his vulgar passages, that we're at least on a first-name basis) had taken his own advice in writing this book. "Lincoln in the Bardo" is, I think, pretentious. It does not try to connect with the reader at all. It reminded me of being lost in a corn maze. It's a swim for survival in a murky pond through a dense fog.


Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery by Deborah Howe
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Simply charming. My grown daughter gave it to me as a Christmas gift, and I read it recently, imagining myself reading it to her as a little girl. 

Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This is an extremely dense read. It's hard to get through, but much better when listening to the audio version.

I understand, from reading pre-reviews, that the upcoming movie is wonderful. How this book will translate to a movie is a mystery to me... but one I am looking forward to exploring! I liked the ending of this book very much, but I kept shaking my head throughout all the other parts, thinking about politics and current events: "People aren't really this smart!"

This book could be characterized as "hard science fiction fantasy." (PS- I give the movie 5 stars!) 


The Irish Fiddler's Playbook: 50+ Easy Fiddle Tunes with Step-by-Step Fiddling Guide by Julia Termeer
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I don't think I'll ever truly "finish" this book, but I'm having a lot of fun along the way. I'm playing my grandmother's old violin... I mean, "fiddle." The difference between a violin and a fiddle? You don't spill beer on a violin!


Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A trifle disappointing because I had heard so many good things about this novella. It seemed to be set in the early 1900s, but then there are unexpected details that let you know that you are reading something set in the near present-day... which was fascinating but disconcerting all the same. There's much more to this story than the way it ends and all that leads up to it... which is also fascinating but disconcerting all the same.


The End of Drum-Time by Hanna Pylväinen
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

Read this as part of a book club. I know it's been well-received and well-reviewed, but I found it hard to follow (cue the college "Ulysses" flashbacks): big blocks of type with shifting POV and many different characters. I did not find the story compelling in any way. I slogged through it because I joined the book club to read books I wouldn't normally read... which is always revelatory, but not always enjoyable.


Our Mixtapes, Ourselves: The Happy-Sad Story and Soundtrack of Generation X by David Grady
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I finally can say, in all honesty, that I started reading a book I couldn't put down -- and now my wife thinks I'm crazy because I had my iPhone at my side and kept listening to snippets of the songs written about here... without AirPods. Because I wanted her to ask me what the heck I was doing and then I could explain to her why I loved this book so much. Thank you, David Grady, and thanks for posting your brother's drum intro to "Middle of the Road" at https://thosesongs.blog/

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A Visit to Gethsemane on Juneteenth

The entrance to Gethsemane Cemetery

Gethsemane is usually associated with the sacred site at the foot of the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem. Christians believe that Jesus Christ prayed there, undergoing the "Agony in the Garden" prior to his crucifixion.

But Gethsemane also exists close to home in Bergen County, on an acre of land on a hill off Route 46 in Little Ferry. It's a county historic site with the graves of over 500 souls, stipulated in the 1800s for use as a "cemetery for the colored population of the Village of Hackensack."

On this Juneteenth, the Bergen County Parks Department opened the site to visitors, thanks to the efforts of the county's Division of Cultural & Historic Affairs, whose representatives handed out detailed guides and provided links to even more online resources about the historic final resting place for the area's Black community.

The handout, a PDF guide, is available online here. And a YouTube video tour is available here. 

Following are a half dozen photos of gravesites, along with information provided by the county.

Left: "In Memory of Sarah, wife of John Layton, who died on October 26, 1838. Aged 17 Years, 9 Months and 11 Days." Right: The headstones of wife and husband, Elizabeth (1818-1899) and Edward (1836-1909) Jackson.

Left: Richard R. Mattison, Died November 27, 2892, Aged 23 Years, 10 Months and 29 Days. Richard was a railroad porter who died of the effects of diabetes. Right: Henry White, Died May 25, 1911, Aged 25 Years. His granite tombstone had been buried in the ground, face up, for more than 30 years, until it was reset on its base in 2007.

Left: In Memory of Harry Jones, Died April 24, 1888, Aged 87 Years... a headstone that, according to county's guide, "was vandalized and broken after the original cemetery restoration in the 1980s. It was repaired and resent on a new base in spring 2007." Right: "Cora Oblenus, who died of acute bronchitis just before her 15th birthday." Her stone is "carved in the shape of a tree stump, symbolizing a young life that was cut short."

It's Never Too Hot for Poetry in Teaneck

Poet Scott Pleasants

I was excited to learn that Scott Pleasants, the poet laureate of Teaneck, NJ, was planning a new poetry series so close to home this past Sunday. It's being held in a small garden adjacent to the town's recently renovated library, and it includes an open mic.

I woke up Sunday to a sudden burst of mid-summer weather and decided to write a poem for the occasion. I normally struggle for days/weeks/months/years/decades to write a single poem, but I didn't have anything appropriate at the ready.

The result is below, a poem I read on Sunday afternoon that didn't exist on Sunday morning. It's set in Teaneck and based on current celestial events.

I arrived early and commented to Scott, "What weather! It's too hot for poetry!" Which, he assured me, is never the case.

More than two dozen people showed up in the shade, including Chris Rockwell, founder and editor of SOUP CAN magazine, and two local poets I've participated in recent workshops with, Tara Temprano and Tammy Smith. Scott's next event at the garden? Sunday afternoon at 2, on May 31. And here's my less-than-day-old poem (PS- with slight revisions in June):

When Venus and Jupiter Converge Over Teaneck

 

At the onset of June, 2026,

the recent blue moon has begun

to sweep past Venus and Jupiter,

as the two brightest planets visible on earth

slowly converge

in the early evening sky.

Merging tail lights on Route 4

summon my gaze

that, lifted by fireflies,

beholds a revelation: the same sight

that, more than 2,000 years ago,

evoked the Star of Bethlehem.

I take refuge in art:

This prophetic verse

at the conjunction

of passion and spiritual growth…

A celestial fever dream.

A feather of hope.

I believe that at dusk on June 9, 2026,

a new Messiah was born in Teaneck, NJ,

in a two-family house with thin walls:

Because thin places

are the closest between Heaven and Earth;

because tiny houses

make the loudest memories.

 

Holy and anointed,

welcomed by Venus and Jupiter’s cosmic kiss,

heralded by a murmuration of starlings,

descended from aurochs and angels,

She is a golden goddess without a statue.

She will be revered by all faiths.

She will change the world forever:

End all wars, redistribute wealth,

protect our sons and daughters.

She will share her immortality,

and save us with humility.

She will dispel self-serving myths

we have chosen to believe.

She will inspire our epic poetry.

Scott's "Ode to Teaneck," displayed in the library garden