Whispering trees.

lettersfromorchardvalley.blogspot.com

The whispering trees.

A journey of rediscovery in a place where life and dreams thrive.

by Mark Schmidt on November 16, 2015

My entry today is a very important contribution to the world of Mental health. The following piece is one that I had written last year at this time and kept tucked away. After discussing my condition and the dangers that can occur by not addressing our mental well being. I decided that it would be worth sharing with everyone. This is a true story and one of the scariest experiences of my life.  I hope that this piece will provide at the very least some awareness as well as hope for those who have not yet found a path to balance and good mental well being.

Entry No. 9

The whispering trees

The winding roads of Upstate NY can offer some of the most breathtaking views during the autumn season. As more and more residential & commercial development floods into the area, slowly these sights begin to disappear. I was a young child during the early 1980’s I was fortunate to live in a home that was a former farmhouse from years past. The home included a lot of acreage that was composed of overgrown fields, dense woods that had man made hiking trails carved out. Many of these paths  lead to a major rail track of the D&H. I spent many days as a child watching the trains pass by from the security of the woods.

I had spent countless Summer, Fall, Winter & Spring days in those woods. I was everything my imagination would allow me to be from Robin Hood,  a Civil War Soldier,  a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, Batman and Link from Zelda. If it rained, I was inside playing Nintendo or writing. If it was nice, I could be found outside in those woods having fun. Those were the days when worries and homework could be put on hold for an hour or two to rescue a fair maiden from an army of monsters. That is until I could hear the sound of my Mother yelling for me to come inside. Then the evil armies would have to pause and await my return the following afternoon after School to meet their demise.

This was a recurring story for many years and when I approached my teenage years I abandoned the confines of those woods to new passions such as playing drums, hanging with my friends, listening to early 90’s hard rock and alternative music. Soon, the chase for the opposite sex would then come into play. Dreaming of the day when I could get my license and venture out in that endless world of concrete paths; as opposed to the wooded trails that I would explore as a boy on my trusty make believe horse (A 1988 Huffy bike) while being equipped with plastic swords tucked in the back of my tshirt.

As the years progressed and the ups and downs of Adolescence and early Adulthood occurred, many times I found myself always facing a struggle internally with feeling happy and staying positive. At the age of 17 my Mother was diagnosed with Lung cancer. This was tough for me, I knew it wasn’t good. I gave it my all along with my family to help support in her fight. It was a fight, that she would eventually lose in September of 1999. I had just graduated High School that previous June and found myself at a crossroads. Enrolling in a Community College seemed like the best start. I pressed on

I worked hard and took many different courses in English, Psychology and History. I used my love of the arts to get a better understanding of the world and hopefully a better glimpse and understanding inside of myself. I poured myself into self help books to acquire a better understanding. Literature was a blessing, in the words of John Green “Reading literature is a challenge in that you get to see others as they see you and you get to see others as they see themselves”.

At this point I had been struggling with Anxiety and Depression. I had seen a few doctors who believed it to be either contributed to Grievance, Depression or that my body was still changing at 19 and that I may simply grow out of it. I was prescribed many different Medications that made me feel like a Walker from the Walking Dead. Frustrated, annoyed and tired of no answers I abandoned all medical help by the age of 22 with the mindset of “Its mind over matter, and I’m invincible” besides, at this point I was a bachelor on the bar scene and liquid medicating on the weekends seemed to do the trick.

There is an old saying, “You can’t put an old head on young shoulders” I heard this saying many times and never really gave it the insight it truly deserved. I spent the next 12 years building my family and going through the challenges that all young married families do. Mortgage, two children, excessive debt, weight gain,  change of careers, loss of friends to deaths, friends moving away and life itself in general. All the while, I internally was still dealing with my mental health. I always placed it on the back burner or just kept putting it out of my mind. I’d focus extremely hard on other things to try to block out what I was feeling. I never quite felt like I had solid control of anything as if I was on a swaying ship that made me feel that I knew what I had to do in life to the complete opposite of hopelessness.

2014 was the year that this monster took over my life nearly destroying all of me. There was no more back burner, no more fighting or internal mental trickery. My mental health was failing and failing quick. My family was suffering, my physical health was being destroyed as well as the personal relationships around me. My memory was completely absent and my moods were short and sad. I became physically ill often and felt like the world was against me. I felt like I was on a sinking ship. Those closest to me began to ask me “Who are you?” “What happened to the real you that everyone loves?"

That was a great question, "Who was I?" I didn’t know, I couldn’t honestly answer anymore. I didn’t know where I was, let alone where I was going. I reached out for help before it was almost too late. It was embarrassing to admit that things were out of control. But they were. I went back to my Psychiatrist and Psychologist to get the help and support I needed. I had to go back to square one. After many sessions and tests I was given a clear diagnosis and a reality check of who I am, and how life will be and how it can be living with a Mental disorder.

I spent the next few months going to my appointments and trying to make sense of things. Coming to terms with life now and asking how do I fit into the puzzle with who I am. That one chilly overcast day on November 06, 2014 while driving near my old home I felt something inside telling me to stop. To go back to where I was most happiest and also where I was when I hit rock bottom. I pulled off to a public biking/walking trail a short distance from my old house. I made the trek down the trail and went off of the beaten path and began to go through the woods.

The fallen leaves crunched beneath my shoes undisturbed since their initial fall. I knew I was alone and had to be careful. If I was to be injured I would be without help and cell reception was spotty at best. I continued on over small streams and clearings. Even though I was alone in those woods, I felt that something was there with me. Not claiming religious or spiritual beings per se; however there was a feeling of something, somewhere. I pressed on watching my breath in the damp air.  After a short walk I found the entrance to the old trail from when I was a child.

I entered the overgrown thicket that opened into a clearing that was full of pine trees. The pines shielded the overcast clouds making the woods that much more dark. I remembered this spot as a child and always feared an imaginary ghost that I felt inhabited the trees. With respect, I said, “hello” to the old imaginary ghost woman with a chuckle. I did not wish for any more bad luck even if it was make believe.  I reached what was remaining of an old stone wall that was our property line within the woods

Stepping over the wall was a symbolic act as if the boy/hero from long ago had returned to his kingdom. The trails mostly all overgrown were still passable. The man made streams were still there with an old bridge that was built by my Father. I sat on a tree stump, exhaling a deep breath I  listened to the silence. It was that silence that was as comforting as a parent’s voice when you were hurt. Something inside made me comeback here to face my demons. The ones inside who tried to take me life away as I had previously and unsuccessfully attempted to take my own life. I closed my eyes and could picture that cold April night months before when my very body, soul and mind was tested to the brink of death.

I shook it off and opened my eyes; I thought of the days I climbed and swung from the trees. The days of snow covered branches while I ran through the trails with my young voice loud, determined and full of life. A time when no dream or idea was too big or unattainable. Perhaps I needed to comeback to start over or believe that there really is some magic in these woods. It was here that I fully came to terms and accept my diagnosis of being Bi-polar. That it is a disorder that I have had all my life and it is a part of me. Hating it is in turn hating me, and hating me will never help me get better or those around me.

I closed my eyes and pictured the young me in this kingdom with those young dreams and that smile. I thought of that saying of the old head on young shoulders and wished old me could tell young me to do so many things differently. I opened my eyes and the tears poured down my face. I sat hugging my knees, feeling my damp shirt cold against my back. My tears were warm and channeled down my face pooling onto my jacket sleeve.

I promised to myself that I would try to let the hurt and the past go. What I once felt and how I acted was not me, but a sick me trying to reach for help but not knowing how. My clarity was shining in those woods once again. I realized that this was my second chance to take the knowledge of who I am, how I need to live, and be the most successful person I can be for myself and the ones I love. The healing of the wounds was finally starting.

Vowing to never be ashamed of who I am;  taking that knowledge along with the ability and strength to move forward; I garnered my strength and stood up, wiping away the tears I decided to leave the pain in the place where I was the happiest as a child. Perhaps mother nature would take that negative energy and convert it to something positive for the world. I walked away letting the troubles fall behind. Acceptance and one day at a time was my new mantra. I almost gave up on it all and I will never go back to those days of letting my mental health come between me and what matters most. I take comfort in knowing that a new family lives in my old home with children.

I hope that one day, with all the comfort of modern technology that other children will lay down the xboxone and iPads to find the magic and healing powers of those woods behind them. It was those trees and those paths from my childhood that called me back from demise to help save my life.

Maybe we never became what we thought we would as children. Many of us still search for who and what we are. Bipolar makes that internal struggle just that much worse. It is a daily tug of war between success and perceived failure. Many turn to destructive behaviour as a solace. That is not the answer, nor Death. I had to realize that sitting around feeling sorry for myself and expecting the world to fix me was not the answer either. Maybe I’m not the grand hero I imagined. Perhaps I will never accomplish some of the expectations of society. I realized that it’s okay. I don’t have to be the individual that society expects me to fit into. I have a disorder, a responsibility and dreams. I have to live my life to the fullest. I don’t know where my path will bring me. But maybe, just maybe if I stay true to myself and accept who I truly am. Well, maybe that’s just enough.

If we don’t believe in ourselves, if we do not love who we truly are and accept how we were made; then neither will anyone else in this world. It’s okay to not be okay.  

lettersfromorchardvalley.blogspot.com

Saratoga Springs, NY

Crandell Mansion.

Crandell Mansion, Ballston Spa NY *Updated, October 2015*

In the spirit of the Halloween season, I decided to keep with the ghost tales and spooky location theme. Below is a blog I posted last December with some updates added to it. I hope you enjoy!...beware.

Most people I know love a great Ghost story and the idea of the old Haunted Mansion on a hill. The kind of place that spirits can be seen roaming through the house at the dead of night. The walls dripping blood with demonic voices saying the usual “Get out” These days with the popularity of reality Ghost shows and tales of the unknown we dial into all things that suggest that there is other worldly phenomenon that cannot be explained. Every culture and society has their own tales of ghosts and spirits. Here in America we seem to be drawn to old mansions and graveyards with celebrity psychic mediums telling us of the demise of those spirits while in human form. 

I grew up in a Village in Saratoga County that has its share of interesting 'haunts'. One such notorious place is the Crandell Mansion. This old victorian home is immediately in front of the elementary school; where I along with many other children in the 80’s ran around on the playground pretending to hide from old ghost Crandell and his silhouette in the cupola. We would tell tales amongst ourselves of the ghostly inhabitants and that children who got too close would end up missing. The imagination of children can be as far fetched and expansive as the earth itself. Behold, the Crandell Mansion.

One day while speaking with an old co-worker, she had brought up the house in passing saying that her immediate family are the current owners of the house and property. (I will leave her nameless). She mentioned that there is also Apartments that have been built into the massive house with tenants claiming no experiences, to seeing and hearing things that had them scared. I could not believe my ears!

She mentioned that there has been some odd occurrences that have been experienced as well as eyewitness accounts of apparitions including photos with orbs and other unexplainable images. Whether you believe or not, this blog entry is not here to state one way or the other if the house itself is truly haunted. Every person has their own thoughts and beliefs on the matter. As a grown up, I decided to do a little research on the home and found some information that is quite tragic and terrible.

I had heard rumors that Sylvester Crandell had tortured his family and that he hung himself in the cupola and on certain nights you can see his body hanging. All sorts of tales and ghostly stories to make anyone fearful. All these years it has been difficult to distinguish between fact and town folklore. Attached is a newspaper article from the NY times dated December 20, 1887 outlining the horrid events that had taken place on December 19, 1887. 

My fascination has gone beyond the “purported” hauntings of the home and into the events leading up to and the tragedy itself. I sit back and wonder to myself as a family man, how could anyone become so enraged that one would Murder his family. Especially given the fact that this tragedy was just days from Christmas where we are supposed to be thankful for the gift of life. (assuming the family was christian). As I pondered to myself about all the info I have read and stories I heard as a child I overheard a financial report about this current holiday season for 2014. The report stated that most families would be more conscious on spending this year.

The report made me think of all those in the world who have lost everything or on the very verge of such financial defeat. It seems almost everything is driven by financial gain and the mentality of those with the most toys wins. I myself, have been guilty of this mindset. I have seen firsthand friends and loved ones become torn apart by the nightmares of finances and ownership. With a house as grandiose as the Crandell mansion had to have been in the 1800’s brand new, I can only imagine the mindset Mr. Crandell had as he pursued public office and lived a privileged lifestyle. Eventually it appears that all fell away from him. Including his stability of mind and body. 

I pondered, was the mindset & family situation of that tragedy that cold snowy day in December of 1887 really that different from today’s family stressors? I'm not claiming Adults are committing homicide on their families on a routine basis. But does the unhealthy desire and pursuit of wealth create as many family problems today as it did in the Crandell house? In short, I believe it does. Perhaps it is the human nature of wanting more, or simply trying to hold on to what we have creates words of anger and action that affects the ones around us. When some are faced with the reality of losing an apartment or a custom built home in a development. The idea and embarrassment of having to relinquish an expensive vehicle or belonging can lead even the best of us as humans to lash out and act in ways we wouldn’t. I come away thinking that even if this tragedy separates us by 128 years; the core element remains that finances impact every family from every race, background and culture. It is one of the most driving forces in the world. In the case of an individual such as Sylvester Crandell who clearly was not in his right mind led to the unspeakable. Murder

Perhaps, for a moment, we can all suspend our disbelief and assume that the stories of the ghostly inhabitants are true? Are these spirits trapped? or perhaps they visit to serve as a warning to us all so that history does not sadly repeat itself. “If” there is truly such a thing as spirits, I cannot help but think that perhaps there spirits along with Mr Crandell could be looking for a way to rewrite the history of that dark day. Again, “if” those spirits are in that house. I hope that they can find peace as the anniversary of their deaths quickly approaches. 

In closing, maybe the spirits stay in that house not to scare the school children behind the house, but perhaps to plant the seed in those children that while Money is a necessity of life it should not be everything. At 35 years old, if this is the lesson, then I have heard loud and clear. Whether through the sight of the house, the newspaper articles, speaking with family who have ties to the home or the folklore of the family’s ghosts. We are entering a time of year to take pause and be thankful for what we have as well as lending a helping hand to others. 

Perhaps through love and goodwill, we can help those who need help the most stay clear of what could be another senseless tragedy and loss of life. Just an average joe's opinion.  

“Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within” - James Baldwin.

Questions, comments? Email me!

The Calling Road

The following piece was originally written by me back in 2007 when I was still attending night school at Sage College of Albany. It was meant for my creative writing course. It was one of three that I wrote but felt it never quite made the grade to be submitted. I decided to do a few updates to the original and thought it would be a nice piece to post for this week. I hope you enjoy -Mark

“When you finally go back to your old home, you find it wasn't the old home you missed but your childhood” - Sam Ewing

The Calling Road….

Avery drove down old route 12 just outside of the historic township of Abaddon’s Landing. The closer he approached the township the tighter his grip became on the steering wheel. It had been almost ten years since he was this close to the area of his former life. Of all tasks he had been given, this was one that he could not completely comprehend. The winding road was full with forest line and broken down stone walls used to separate property lines almost one hundred years ago. The mossy growth on some of the rocks reminded Avery of the days when he would dare his closest buddies to  remove the moss and eat it. No one could quite stomach the task and many of those stones had the blankets of green growth still covering them.

One mile outside of the town was a small road that led to the local church. Making a last minute decision,  Avery quickly jerked the wheel kicking up stones and dust as he slid on to the road leading to the only place he could go to collect his racing thoughts before driving through the only place he really knew for the first 25 years of his life. He pulled up outside of the beautiful white painted church. The sign outside said “Welcome all, service Sundays at 11:00am.

Avery scanned the exterior of the grounds to see if any cars were parked. There was nothing indicating that someone else was here. Grabbing the flask from his bag, he took a shot of whiskey and felt it’s liquid courage trickle down his throat into his chest. He re clasped the flask and then exited his car. Tipping his fedora, he breathed heavy and was hoping to cover all of his distinguishing features as he crossed the line between who he is now and what he was  just ten years before.

The side church door opened and closed quietly. "good'' said avery, any loud noises would draw attention, and this was the last place of earth he wanted attention. He simply wanted to be a passerby with no destination, just an old traveler seeking spiritual refuge on a journey marred by question and disbelief.

Avery inhaled the smell of the candles burning and listened to the creaking of the old wooden pews that he so fondly remembered sitting in as a child. The church with all its furnishings and stained glass always carried an echo of the smallest noise.

The old organ sat pristine and ready to be played, no doubt Old Ms. Kathy was still in charge of the music here. Her sheet music was always in place and the hymns were always perfectly played as if a choir from heaven itself made a guest appearance.

It was Four thirty in the afternoon and the sun lit up the altar like a picture perfect painting. It was that very spot that he married his true love, Elise. Closing his eyes his mind brought him back to moving her veil backwards, looking into her eyes and kissing her in front of a full church of family and friends. It was the beginning to a life that seemed unstoppable.

His memory was interrupted by a voice directly from the pew behind him.

"I wondered if I would ever cross paths with you again-how are you my child?"

"shit!" It was the voice of Father Jessman, his voice deep and stern, just as Avery remembered it. He could feel Father Jessmans deep blue eyes looking straight through him.

"Avery...have you lost your ability to speak"? questioned the old Catholic Priest

"I'm sorry, Father, I'm not quite sure who you are referring to"?

With a stern tone, Father Jessman snapped back! "Do you dare willingly come into the house of the lord and freely lie to me"? I know it's you Avery, I've known you since you were a child, it doesn't take a voice or my own eyes to know when someone who I've taught for years is here. It's a presence my child. You have one of the strongest presences I have ever encountered in my 25 years here."

"Forgive me Father. I was simply....trying to..stay...well...gone" Avery, replied

Father Jessman leaned back in the pew and let out a deep sigh. He was quiet for a moment and the smell of his musky aftershave permeated the air. then with the voice of a fatherly figure, he leaned forward and spoke.

"Son, I've buried 100's of folks in the graveyard out back, I knew the day of your funeral that something wasn't quite right. There is a feeling you get presiding over the shell of a person, you feel the spirit of the deceased with you at those times, as if they themselves cannot understand what it is they are watching. But on the day of yours, I felt your presence in the form of one that does not occur. I felt no spirit..because you were not dead. I'm not sure whose corpse I presided over, but my blessings of you going to meet the heavenly father were not meant for that day.

Avery sat looking at the altar, he thought about the day of his funeral, how he had to watch his burial from a car in the distance. "Father, I did die that day, perhaps not in the traditional sense. But I had to walk away from the life I had. I was given a new life, a new name and therefore, while my soul is still encased in this body, the being who I once was, died, and was buried on that day. My wife, my two daughters they deserved better than me. I was in a place where I needed to make amends and was given the chance for a new start making lives better for others"

"Avery, you need not explain why you live the life you live to me. Sometimes in life..it's not us that choose the path we lead, but it is that life itself that will seeks us out. There are times where our callings do not make any sense to others, but we have to trust that this is what is meant to be. I've heard countless confessions over the years from people who believe that they have failed. But the lord doesn't give you what you cannot handle. You are where you are; because there was a plan to get you here"

Avery sat in silence as he he tucked his lips in and his breathing became short. Clenching his jaw he did his physical best to stop the tears as they began to roll down his cheek. Listening to his priest, provided the fatherly figure that all men and women need at times in life. Religious or not, sometimes all need to hear that the direction towards the northern star is just when they sail the oceans of life without a navigator.

"Why did you come here Avery?"

With a giant sniffle, Avery muttered out the words.."I don't know...I guess I wanted to remember..why, I miss my family so much"

Father Jessman leaned even closer to Avery as the old pew creeked, "Turn to me, let me see you my child"

Avery, reluctantly, turned his torso in the pew and looked at the aged priest, whose face while wrinkled and sagged; still contained the bright blue eyes that he forever knew in his times of pain and sorrow.

Father Jessman looked Avery in the eyes and said, “your new life has aged you. It is an aging I know all too well. To take upon the burden of many robs you of what youth you may posses. But it it an honorable and just cause. I do not know what life it is that you lead now, Avery. But your eyes and face tell me that it is one of importance to many, while still a mystery to you. I will respect what it is that you do. But remember, you never truly died, nor are you alone in this world. When you are faced against immeasurable odds, remember that you do not walk alone, and that I will always be here for you.

the tears streamed down avery's face, the wetness was soft against the stubble of his ungroomed two day travel.

"I miss my girls, are they okay?....

"Yes, Avery, your family is fine, I would hope one day, when your new mission in life is complete, that you will let them gaze upon you as I have today"

Avery sat quietly, as the priest looked at him.

"Go forth my child, continue on with your tasks. I hope that this meeting has been the reassurance you need to carry on".

Avery stood up, he composed himself and tipped his hat forward. Biddding farewell to Father Jessman, He stepped out of the pew and walked down the aisle heading for the door, he reached down and grabbed a church bulletin as he stepped out of the front door and walked to his car. He choked back more tears as he opened the door and sat inside. His head pounded and his heart raced. He closed his eyes for a moment to try to let it all settle.

When he opened his eyes, the church was boarded up and the paint was chipping. Avery startled, sat up to attention, the stained glass had been broken and the church had fallen into disrepair. The front door was ajar from where he had opened it behind the boards used to seal off would be trespassers.

"What the hell"..Avery, still clutching the church bulletin nervousy looked down to see the paper was stained and aged. The date was from November 19, 1916...7 years ago. The back bulletin was a tribute to the recently deceased Father Jessman at the age of 78.

Looking up from the bulletin the church was falling apart, the shutters were hanging and the bushes were grossly overgrown. The front sign was rotting and all but the w and e remained of the message on the sign...the church must have been closed after the passing of father Jessman, perhaps they could not find a replacement.

This all took place three years after he left. Avery rubbed his forehead trying to make sense of what just happened, when he noticed a figure in the rectory window..it was Father Jessman, he nodded to Avery, blue eyes piercing and then..he vanished.

Avery now understood, he does not walk alone in his path. Father Jessman is with him. He was called back to this spot as a meeting, why? Avery grew tired of the visions, but Father Jessman was one that he for once welcomed, and hoped he would continue to see. Starting the car, he placed it in drive and drove down the road, looking in the rear view mirror he could see the images of him and his boyhood friends running on that road as the old church disappeared out of his line of sight.

He needed to press forward, he still had a job to do…

Mark Schmidt,

October 07, 2015.

Autumn Equinox

  “AUTUMN EQUINOX 2015”

09/23/2015  

“Nature is indifferent to men. It is not nature that is haunted, but men. It is not nature that makes murder, but men. The one hope is that men also make mercy.” - Phillip L. Simpson

Today marks the Autumn Equinox of 2015. Fall is by far my favorite of all seasons!! it’s changing of colors, temperature change, wardrobe changes to hoodies and jeans with the chance to eat calorie enriched food to prepare for the long upstate winters. Autumn brings the excitement of a druid holiday known as Halloween.

I love Halloween! the candy, the decorations and songs. I can remember the in school class parties every year and going trick or treating with my friends. The hardest part was trying to deicide what costume to get each year. On hallows eve every neighborhood, town, county and state had either that one house, farm, penitentiary, hospital, mansion, graveyard or structure that was closed and “haunted”.

These places could be haunted the other 364 days but only on this night would it matter! It’s always the spirits of some poor restless soul who was murdered and tirelessly looking for the souls of children to eat in vengeance. (I can stop now if these memories sound familiar? i’m sure 98% of us have at some point encountered something close to this). Like most other kids in America, we either laughed or we screamed and looked away and ran fast as a haunted ghost or murder house is scary and ugly.

Fast forward 2 hours later, when we would return from our candy pilgrimage you would find that while you unwrapped your candy and shoved it down your gullet that you would turn on the beautiful 80’s 90’s wood floor tv console  and be watching whatever slasher flick that was on that Halloween night. YES!! more scariness!! more horror for the sub conscious. That is what makes the holiday of Halloween great! (until you get in your teens and you get drunk off you ass at Halloween parties)

I find myself asking what is it about haunted houses and in particular ghosts that grab the attention of us so much. The perception vs reality is astounding. Now I am not a bible thumper or a high horse judgement bearer. I love to be scared and I am fascinated with the paranormal and the tragedies behind them as well. It’s almost as a living piece of history that reminds us that if the tragedy does exist, it’s there so it may not happen to someone else.

If I was to play devil's advocate for a moment and switch hats…let’s look at a different perspective of the whole haunted location/murdered restless soul situation. That ghost (if you do believe in ghosts) was once a Human being who had a name, a heart, loved someone, cried, had talents and most likely dreams they were aspiring to. But something happened.

They were robbed of life, that's right, simply put…they were Murdered. Now, without getting into great detail, perception vs reality can play a big number on our psyche. For example, I work in an Emergency room and I have seen first hand human beings take their very last breath and die. It is by far the most hardest thing to see..the sound, smell and sight is something you can never forget or get out of your mind. The perception is in movies is that the passing is a romantic or heroic thing, but in reality it’s gut wrenching and leaves you without words to see someone die in front of you.

Now, death is part of life. That is how it is and I understand that. Prior to my work in the ER I would watch slasher movies and games where the goal was to kill and the kill streak was what mattered. There was an idolization in society for the perpetrator even if it was a fictional character. Do I still watch these movies? yes. Do I still fire up the xbox one and play the witcher and cod? omg yes! but I’m more concious now about not only the life lost, but the life taker.

I grew up during a time when pretending to be Freddy, Jason and Michael Myers was fun to do with your friends. I still see it with my son who will be 9 with his friends. (the trend is more zombies now). It’s normal part of life and boyhood to grow up with your friends taking turns being dominant or the murderer of the group. Just as there is also the hero of the role play and sadly, the victim. The perception vs reality begins from the moment we are born. we idolize what we believe through visual images, stories both read and told.

It wasn’t until just recently as an adult that I saw the dead or a victim and my 30+ years of perception of what I believed to truth in the moment of a persons death became the true reality. It isn’t the heroic fallen, symphony accompanied background piece that I was conditioned to believe in my subconscious. While death is nothing to fear as we will all die, I think the experience of seeing someone cross from the living to the deceased made me aware to how others perceive or joke about death.

In close, when I pass a haunted house now that is rumored to be inhabited by the spirit of a murdered soul. It is not that spirit of the victim that scares me. Oh no, what scares me more and is far more sinister is the thought that another human being could willfully and consciously take that person's life! especially after seeing first hand for myself the traumatic events of end of life.

Be safe, eat candy, hug your loved ones during scary movies and remember to celebrate life!..not destroy it.

Mark.

May Flowers (Poetry entry)

May Flowers...

Once encased in the cold frozen ground were two seedlings that were broken and bruised.

By chance they were seeded next to each other and the warmth of the May sun allowed the two seedlings to see the beauty in each other.

Out of the ground they sprouted into two beautiful beings, while they didn't always touch, they grew towards each other.

The common bond they share is one of love and understanding for these two flowers grew especially close in a sea of other flowers.

Even though the winds of life blew them in different directions at times; they were always together. The roots were strong, for they grew together in the soil of love & compassion. The bond they found in each other provided the strength and hope for the future that both so desperately needed.

Mark Schmidt

08/21/2015

New age social party crashers

The new age social party crashers.

Let's talk about party food, baby

Let's talk about you and me

Let's talk about all the good things that...I..made to eat

And all the bad annoying trendy food hipster things that you may be

Let's talk about regular beer

Let's talk about straight cookout food

Let's talk about common courtsey

Let's talk about shut the fk up and eat what is provided to you

yeah..Let’s talk about party food, BABY!

Okay, in today’s blog entry I want to discuss the growing trend of what I refer to as “The new age social party crashers” If you have attended a cookout, picnic, BBQ, Special gathering, Birthday party or Corporate event you have no doubt encountered one of the following individuals bellow. I refer to them as “Diet fad” & “Beer snob”

Ahhhhh yes, we all immediately know what I’m talking about. NOW, this in no way shape or form refers to any individual who has to live by a special diet due to a legit allergy, medical condition or other treatment / weight loss plan. Oh no, this annoyance is with the self proclaimed foodie/craft beer individual who finds it necessary to come to an event as a guest but yet feel the need to make special food requests when they have no reason other then they decided to try a specialized diet to “enhance” their life….

If you wish to improve your health, by all means bravo! I will support you...but do not come to an event and make special requests when you aren’t paying for a damn thing. Can you imagine Jesus frustration if the “Feeding of the Multitude” was to occur today?? Bethsaida would be full of people saying that they could not eat the fish because of pcb’s nor the bread because they have broken their dependence to gluten. Or better yet they can only eat the foods customized by their food coach.

Beer snobs are another annoyance to me. Now, I have had some delicious IPAs. I respect the craftsmanship and work that goes into making your own brew. No disrespect to those crafters but again if you come to a social gathering and you are offended by the thought of simple “redneck” beer such as coors, budweiser or pbr being available then please bring your own smart ass. That also doesn’t give you a pass to boast about how your IPA is superior.

Honestly, I don’t care that your 6 pack is a special edition brew that is only made during the third lunar phase in the hills of Pennsylvania while it rains on a slate roof with the actual Punxsutawney phil hanging upside down with an m80 shoved in his ass causing perspiration to drop into the hops to give it that slight full bodied panic and earthy undertow complimenting the beastly nature for the sophisticated palate…….wow, that is fascinating buddy..my jam from Journey’s Raised on Radio is about to come on next on my playlist and my cheeseburger with  cheese from a singles wrapper is burning so laters.

My ultimate point is that when I was a kid and even a teen if you were a guest someplace even if you didn’t really care for the food you shut up and picked at it or simply waited until you left and ate after. Now, everyone has allergies, special diets, religious restrictions to the point that throwing a get together with food is as difficult as landing a jet on aircraft carier with 0 experience.

Perhaps going forward we should throw parties with holographic food? I mean why not?? no one gains any weight, the food never spoils. You certainly never run out and ole uncle morty can’t double dip in the chip dip. social food gathering are supposed to be about basic fun and enjoying the company. I suggest if you have a specialized diet then please bring a dish to share with everyone. Instead of saying a spread does not meet a trendy hipster standard, you should be thankful in today’s world we still as humans have social gatherings. I suppose within the next 5 years all parties will be via facetime and online meetings seeing how we become less personal and more connected through technology. Which is hilarious as I am giving my opinion about social gatherings…..ONLINE.

Mark E. Schmidt.

August 19, 2015

Summer Job of 1998

SUMMER JOB Of 1998

August 11, 2015

                                                   

"The tans will fade, but the memories will last forever" -unknown

The  ring tone of calypso rang loud and ever persistent on my night stand. I reached for my phone and looking at the iphone screen I realized that I had been sleeping through the sound and would surely be late for work.

“dammit” I muttered as I threw over the covers sitting up rubbing my eyes I made the quick and fateful run for the shower to make epic time. In autopilot mode I was never quite thinking but doing whatever necessary to beat the clock. I dressed faster than Katy Perry during a wardrobe change in between songs at a concert. I grabbed my badge, keys and did a once over in the mirror to check my hair….thats right, I can still check my eyebrows if that's all I have. (No visible greys or dead ends) I was good to go.

For 2pm in the afternoon, the August air was still heavy with humidity. The flowing breeze across the creek provided a temporary relief of the oppressive humidity; all while also providing the sweet smell of cape jasper which was pleasant as I entered the hot oven of my car. I decided to take a shortcut over a side street to cut out a few minutes. Buzz 105.7 was on and playing Make it hot by Nicole Wray. I haven’t heard this song in years I said to myself.

Like any good Summer day combined with needing to be somewhere yesterday I ended up with the inevitable..yep, you guessed it. Road construction and the ever hated flagger with his radio and oversized cooled that is used as a foot rest. I felt pity for him on this hot day, I would not want that job. Still, I was pissed, now I’m even more behind. Yet, it’s no ones issue but mine.

Attempting to be clever, I took one more detour and drove past one of the Elementary schools in Ballston Spa. As I drove I saw something that made me pull over. I witnessed a group of 4-5 Teenagers working at the school doing groundskeeping. I couldn’t help but smile. It was exactly 17 years ago that I was one of those teenagers.

Summer of 1998, Myself, Anthony Angrisani, Dave Smassanow & Justin Spittal were all classmates and close friends entering our Senior year of High School. We all decided as a group of friends to work together for the Ballston Spa School District doing groundskeeping and moving supplies to the brand new High School that we were to be the first class to graduate from.

I can still hear the radios in the background playing the top songs of that summer of can’t get enough from smash mouth, closing time by semisonic and the new hit single don’t want to miss a thing by Aerosmith. That is the summer as 17 year olds that we spent our nights watching Celebrity Death match, the Sopranos and bringing our Girlfriends to the drive ins/movies to see something about Mary and the mouth dropping Saving Private Ryan (which resulted in not much make out time, nor relations post movie)

This was the Summer I was also playing many shows to help support the CD release of Wrath’s “Twisted & Tormented”. All the while I continued to care for My Mom who was in the midst of battling cancer.

Those were simple and fun times filled with junky first cars, first loves, unforgettable memories and laughs that all 17 year olds should have. We worked hard, but not too hard for our money at the school. We met individuals that showed us that bitterness and grudges are no way to live. The four of us talked often about once our Senior year was done where we would end up. Our dreams were as big as our imagination. We felt that we could accomplish all but yet had the fear of knowing that the time soon approached for College and leaving the nest.

The perspective for all of us besides partying and facing the future in those days was as distant and as far reaching as the objectification of any dreaming 17 year old. There all four of us stood unknowingly on the dock on west egg reaching for that Green light of Tom Buchanan’s deck across the bay. All we knew was that if we just got into the top colleges, got the degrees then we would land the Top paying Job and have that dream girl fall in love and marry us. Then, if we got the big custom houses, fancy SUV’s, coached the little league teams and just could have it all, then all in our lives would be complete.

I am the only one of the four who still lives in the area. All of us still talk on a regular basis and see each other when possible. We all have families, responsibilities and dreams that made it and did not quite make it. But the bottom line stands that it was that bond, that friendship, laughs, jokes at others expense during those summer days that gave the four of us the foundation for what would be an unbreakable bond going into our senior year.

I rolled up my window and drove away with just enough time to make it to work. While driving, I  realized that the teenagers I saw blowing off their summer work were probably born the very same year that me and my friends were working those same grounds. Love, Laughter and Friendship is more valuable than any summer paycheck..unless it came to Taco bell, 0.99 cent a gallon gas and cheap smokes from Mobil off of brookline road. Then that was a different story.

Thank you,

Mark Schmidt.