April Fool: Unoriginal Title, Original Content

It's always an indicator if I don't make 'blog day' it's because there's so much going on I'm literally incapable of remembering what day it is, even if I thought of it earlier in the day. This time, I got in early evening after staying up almost all night without food in order to upgrade to a better dwelling on schedule. There is some peace of mind now that having been in a flood zone in the wake of Hurricane Sandy with another evacuation warning during hurricane season just the year before is really no longer an issue now.

I'm thankful and grateful having survived another displacement; there have been benefits, though not without stress. There are others who had it so much worse; we were still among the fortunate. And there were lessons learned, about the generosity of others not previously experienced in an area not well known for its compassion or hospitality. I wanted to leave New York, and ended up on Staten Island. Despite all that's happened, it's been a mixed blessing to have been here during and after the "superstorm". Even though the trauma of having lost everything more than once before was temporarily reactivated, the coping and recovery were more bearable because of so many dedicated as volunteers who traveled from across the country and staying for months on end until their assignments were finished. Most are scheduled to return home at the end of the month: the six month mark from the day after the storm.

It was not only those from elsewhere who gave generously of their irreplaceable time and other resources; it was also the nicest of New Yorkers: the true New York's Finest, as well as a few NYPD officers who actually fit the description that has referred to them in the past. There are nice native New Yorkers, they're just much fewer and further between than say, West Virginia, where typical New Yorkers who go there experience a reverse culture shock. The first state under the Mason Dixon that marks the beginning of 'the south' is known for its hospitality. To a New Yorker, people who say 'hello' to strangers and are 'nice for no reason' are almost impossible to tolerate.

In the northeast, and especially in 'the city', unless one is of the few generous-hearted who surfaced and stepped up in the wake of a 'superstorm', such behavior in their experience only happens when something is sought in exchange. Not so for West Virginians, and volunteers who displaced themselves for the better part of a year to be available and assist others who lost everything. I can only hope to be in a position in the future to do the same, or something similar. Meanwhile, the family secret saga resumes next month, about some native West Virginians two generations ago of the same blood as this author, authored by my grandfather's sister.

It is being copied from less than a hundred pages of hand written notes; and now more than half complete here. More will unfold as the story continues, woven into what has become our lives today. I don't remember ever having met my grandfather's sister, though I did know her offspring. One I didn't know was such until after their death, and it was just as well. Had I known then it may not have made a difference, though the effects of those contacts have affected more than one life forever.

I don't know how many others were also hurt; I only know when I heard grandpa's nephew had passed I was not sad. Only until I read what his mother had written did I know we were related, many years later, relatively recently.

" Interest "

My feet are on the ground. I've begun to watch as time permits episodes from a half century before when I wasn't even born yet the amazing talent of someone I've respected and admired from 'far away' for most of this lifetime.

The opportunity has existed many times; simply never thought of it until the writing became 'official', which is selected very strategically in terms of audiences and exposure in paving the way for multiple venues and greater exposure at a managed, momentum building pace. There's a method to the madness.

I thought we had so little in common before, apart from thinking the same things are funny. One of us was born with an irreplaceable talent to actually show the world what funny really is and somehow took the opportunity and initiative to exploit that talent at a very early age. He has helped so many with so much, if only to make more smiles happen; hundreds of thousands. It's an enviable legacy, from a living legend.

The other of us simply became aware of the former in elementary school, or after, to be accurate. Rolling in the floor laughing in front of the television as if there was nothing to worry about, forgetting whatever there might be to run from or be afraid of. I was transported to a world of other possibilities that had not been known before. No one else has ever had the same effect before or since.

It was all but completely unconscious. A seed was planted, and the memories carried me through difficulties, from simply watching television during more innocent times when the media was not so proliferated with things that today are more that keep people away from participating in life than showing them there's another kind of world out there where things can be discovered and lots of clean fun can be had. We were shown what fun could be by a master, born with a special gift, who could share so much of their talent and energy in the right place at the right time. Was the talent and timing luck, or destiny?

Showing the world many unique and irreplaceable gifts came with a price. I'm not sure at this moment if it has been worth that price, as a personal opinion from the source, not that I would agree or disagree. He has been given many more years than his contemporaries, for which I am extremely grateful, as are countless others.

What disappoints today is that not enough who are alive now appreciate the sacrifices of those who have given of themselves so much with more talent in their eyelashes than most who attempt the craft in the years that have passed since, and actually gotten publicity or made a decent living in comedy or entertainment who pale in comparison to the depth and breadth of those who carved the paths they take for granted, with far fewer gifts. Even more amazing is that some have become well known themselves by exploiting or packaging what the media currently sells at the expense of innocence, pure clean fun, or life affirming, respectable abilities.

What ever happened to exemplary? Where have all the role models gone? Even if the talent can't be matched, who inspires us to find and use what we were born with that can't be replaced? Where has that integral value gone, or why is it so suppressed in what generations since have been saturated with? Deconstructing this has become personal; my legacy will be taking it back to the future, or I'll die in the doing of it, content that the purpose was discovered from the inspiration of those like a master who had it and took it to the limit.

I'm usually not blunt, and negative only when absolutely necessary; the truth has to come out sooner or later. Sometimes the truth can be funny. It is when done well. And so few really can. There are never enough of those with that kind of talent. To expose the truth in a way we can handle it, while making us laugh at the same time or close enough to matter.

I have talent, though not that kind. I can expose the truth, though not make you laugh at the same time. Once in awhile I'll hit it. It's usually unplanned and spontaneous. In the right place at the right time, though no one could have known ahead of time.

There's still no comparison to my original inspiration, on many levels. It's everything to do with where I am now, and where he is too. Earlier I wouldn't have known what to say, or ask, other than the stuff he's already heard so many times from others. Why didn't I think to ask before? Timing. Also a secret of great comedy.

Is there such a thing as losing time? Often. When is it meant to be? I'll be pondering that question for some time to come. I see so much suffering from so many innocents; it's become part of what I do. A big part. It's been part of who he is since before I was born. Only when I realized this is a common purpose from different perspectives did the light bulb go on, as if it weren's happening for awhile already.

He had the spark that lit the fire, back when I was only a little pilot light. I didn't even know it at the time; he may have even kept me alive. I promised my grandfather's spirit I would carry on his legacy. Especially because he wouldn't have expected it. For this same reason, and in the same spirit, the candle will be brighter to have been lit from an original. Lights will be brighter because they were combined.

At this moment, it's nice just to know it's possible, and that's there's an interest in doing just that. It isn't happening until it's happening. I remain grateful, and look forward to being close to another great light, toward the inspiration of generations that follow us.