Sunday, December 25, 2005

December 25, 2005

Folks, this is not a Christmas tale for kids..

Santa did not stop by the 6100 block of Cooper Avenue in Queens last night. Instead, paramedics, firefighters, and police officers from the 104 Precinct huddled around the small white house. They were summoned because of a large man named Kenneth Gromwaldt in the living room. Despite the paramedics' best efforts, Kenneth (or Kenny, as the house knew him) was pronounced dead at 9:30PM. He was 47 years of age.

The police questioned the landlord, Shanik, about the deceased. Shanik remarked that Kenny had a sister named Geraldine from Middle Village. Kenny had a few side jobs moving furniture. He had asthma and a blood clot in one of his legs. He also had a voracious appetite for drugs, including angel dust, heroin, xanax, methadone, and marijuana.

On the preceding night (December 23), Kenny went to his neighbor Dorby's room. Dorby sometimes assisted in Kenny's pharamceutical pursuits. But this time, Kenny downed Dorby's bottle of xanax and her methadone without her consent. She shooed him away, and he passed out on the kitchen table. Hours later, Kenny stumbled from the kitchen to the living room, where he spent the last 21 hours of his life.

Shanik, Dorby, and the other residents of the small white rooming house were in shock when the paramedics announced they could not revive Kenny. Dorby blamed herself for Kenny's death. One of the paramedics gave her Kenny's tiny address book, and she started calling the names listed on the book. One of them, Pete, was Kenny's boss from the moving jobs. He hung up on her when she told him that Kenny was dead. The police never noticed the address book. If they had, they could have gotten the names and phone numbers of at least 4 drug dealers.

So much for a well paying job. So much for 47 years of life. So much for good humor- all gone because of some pills and chemicals. To those who think using and abusing illegal drugs is fun and harmless, go to the morgue or Potters' Field in the Bronx. That's where your harmless fun takes you.

Friday, December 23, 2005

December 23, 2005

Well, the year is almost over. I managed to go through 3 vehicles (the Taurus died in early October). I survived the transit strike- which pretty much cost me my job because I had no way to get to work.

Supposedly, the members of Box Office Poison are fans of this blog because I mentioned them in an earlier post- and because I told my sister about their song "Inconsiderate". "Inconsiderate" was written by their bassist Jon Koza (a teacher at South Shore HS in Canarsie) about his rude, violent, gang colors wearing students. The chorus describes the students in vulgarities best hurled at Al Qaeda terrorists and transit strikers. Outside of "Inconsiderate" and "Ding Dong", most of Box Office Poison's songs are fairly clean. And that's about all the mention I'll give them until Jon Koza and the Catepano brothers cough up money for the Netscaper113 car fund.

When my father was alive, he used to send Christmas letters to his friends and relatives. My mother's relatives used to complain about the morbid, negative tone of the letters- until I wrote the family letters for 1995 and 1996. As horrifically commercial and non-religious as Christmas has become, I think the Catholic Church should move the holiday closer in the year to its historical occurance (September) and end the madness that takes up most of November and December now.

I'll try writing a year-end blog when I'm in a more festive mood.