Meeting Broadway Joe

On the 45th anniversary of the greatest day in New York Jets history, I'm reminiscing about the time my youngest son and I met one of my all-time heroes, Joe Namath.  It happened on the Sunday morning of November 26, 2006 in the Meadowlands complex, just a few hours before a Jets-Texans game.

An autobiography of Namath had just been published, and he was scheduled to sign copies of it inside a large tent in the parking lot.  A 10-year Jets season ticket holder by this point, I asked my teenage son if he wanted to get to the Meadowlands early, skip our traditional tailgate party, and wait on a long line to meet Namath that day.  Thankfully, he did.

The line outside the tent was longer than we expected.  Eventually, we made it inside "the pearly gates" as another fan dubbed it.  Some of us were beginning to worry that Namath would be done signing before we could meet him.  We should have known better.  As the line moved slowly, very slowly, towards Namath, I decided we should buy two books, one for my son to keep.

We eventually made our way to the front of the line, and I snapped a few pictures of Namath -- I didn't want to be fumbling with a camera when it was our turn, especially since it was requested people not pose with Namath in order to keep the line moving.  Finally, we walked up to a grinning Namath, wearing tinted glasses and looking as cool as he did 30-40 years earlier.

"Thanks for making us proud to be Jets fans," I said to Namath.  He asked us where we wanted him to sign the books and, as he autographed the first, I whispered to my son Kevin that Namath was wearing his Super Bowl ring.  Namath must have heard me because he looked up at Kevin and said, "Here, try it on."

Awestruck, I watched as my son Kevin took the ring from Namath and put it on his hand.  We both stared at it as Namath autographed our second book.  After what seemed like a minute but was most likely just 15-20 seconds, Kevin handed Namath back the ring and they both smiled at each other.

"Thanks, Joe," I said as we prepared to walk away with our autographed books.  "We love you."

I took a couple more pictures as Namath prepared to sign the next person's book, and then we left the tent, beaming.  We beamed throughout the game, which the Jets won to seal a wonderful day.

When I recounted our meeting with Namath and showed our pictures to my grandmother shortly afterwards, she also began to beam.  She confided something to me that she probably would not have if my grandfather, a Jets fan, was still alive:  She understood why women were attracted to Namath -- she herself always found him very charismatic.

On this 45th anniversary of the New York Jets huge upset win over the mighty Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III, I again thank Joe Namath for making us proud to be Jets fans.
             

New WPU Adjunct: Students Ready to Go at 8 a.m.

Being an adjunct professor is proving to me that a great classroom experience can often result from a lot of preparation.  In some ways, it’s similar to other experiences during my career.  A commitment to do it right can be time-consuming and exhausting, but fill me with a sense of accomplishment.

Even though the classes I teach at William Paterson University start at 8:00 a.m. on Mondays and Wednesdays, most of the students arrive ready to engage in discussions and activities.  I typically feel energized after teaching a class.  

The diversity of the student body makes for some very interesting interaction.  The variety of perspectives from students with different backgrounds, life experiences, values, academic majors and career goals enriches the learning experience at WPU.

Most of my former corporate colleagues would be surprised at the amount of time required to properly plan for a class and review the work of students.  For a three-credit course that meets twice weekly, I typically spend 7-8 hours each week on preparations.  My father was a schoolteacher and also spent a lot of time working outside the classroom, something I almost forgot after working over 30 years at various companies.

WPU pays adjuncts higher than Monmouth University and Brookdale Community College, where I also teach, but it expects more from them. The course I teach at WPU has identical objectives and student learning outcomes required across its sections.  There are guidelines for teaching methods, student activities, student evaluations and readings, but ultimately it’s up to the adjunct professor to define and implement these for a class. 

The other schools provide less flexibility than WPU, but make more materials and other help available to adjuncts.  All the schools, however, encourage adjuncts to teach to their strength and share their work experience in the classroom.  My sense is that many students appreciate hearing about the real-world relevance of information in their textbook.

In any case, it’s unlikely that educated, motivated professionals are attracted by the pay rate offered to adjuncts.  At times, it feels only a step or two above community service, which can also be time-consuming but fulfilling.

The above write-up was published in the December 5, 2013 edition of the William Paterson University student newspaper, Pioneer Times.

Doo-wop ditty

The streets were dark and quiet,

most businesses closed for the season.

But inside the doors of an Italian restaurant

just blocks from the convention center,

there was much revelry and joy.

70-somethings and other seniors 

were dancing, singing, drinking, eating.

One wore a satin jacket with "Pink Lady"

written across her back.

A guy took the mike on stage 

and led his friends in song.

Next day a drizzle fell,

but nothing could rain on this parade.

Doo-woppers were enjoying their annual October weekend, 

simply opening their umbrellas or ignoring the weather

in a town that continues to make them feel young.

Old cars, old music, old people;

'57 Chevys looking as good as new,

Buddy Holly songs sounding as nice as ever.

Grandpas and grandmas were feeling as spry as kids,

enjoying their Wildwood Days as much now as then.

Remembering a first, and last

One of the most thoughtful things my mother did for me was take me to my first major league baseball game.  It was on August 14, 1965, right around the time of her birthday.

She realized that summer that her two school-age sons had discovered the joys of the American pastime.  My brother Lou and I had started collecting baseball cards, watching games on TV, and playing ball with friends in the neighborhood.  My mother had acquired an interest in baseball while being raised in Cuba, and was pleased to see her kids doing the same growing up in New York.

The Yankees were hosting the Kansas City Athletics that afternoon. Our family's loyalties were divided between the Mets and Yankees, but the fact the reigning American League champions were hosting a bat giveaway at Yankee Stadium on a Saturday afternoon convinced my mom it was a great opportunity to take me, my brother and Uncle John to live major league baseball.

Until that point, my only images of baseball stadiums were in newspapers, magazines, television and baseball cards -- only the latter in color.  You can imagine how awestruck 9-year-old Charlito was ascending the subway station stairs to see The House That Ruth Built in all its splendor in front of him. I was given my first baseball bat, a wooden Hillerich & Bradsby Tom Tresh model, as I passed the turnstile.  We found our cheap seats far away from the infield, and I still remember the home run by Roger Repoz, Whitey Ford's good pitching, and the Yankees winning in the bottom of the ninth inning.

Life was never quite the same afterwards. My mother remarried less than two years later, our family moved in late 1967 to Bloomfield, New Jersey, where she raised my younger brother and sister and usually found herself too busy or tired to enjoy live major league baseball.  All the while, however, my passion for baseball continued to burn.

In the summer of 2011, with all her kids long grown up and out of the house, my mother surprised us by expressing enthusiasm with the idea of taking a ferry from the Jersey shore to Citi Field to watch the Mets.  Our family pounced at the prospect of accompanying her to another major league baseball game.

She enjoyed the ferry ride immensely, marveling at the view of the city from New York Harbor and the East River.  After the ferry docked at the marina by Citi Field, my wife, dad and father-in-law made our way with her way slowly by foot to the new Mets ballpark.  Unlike my first time at a major league game, I don't remember any particulars from these nine innings.  I do recall my mother enjoyed the game from our upper deck seats, and our family accompanied her back to the ferry afterwards for the ride back to the Jersey shore.  The day exhausted her, but for months afterwards she kept telling us what a great time she had and how she looked forward to doing it again.

It wasn't to be.  My mother passed away the following winter after complications from heart surgery.

Today, on her birthday, I'm remembering fondly the day she took me to my first major league baseball game.  I'm also thinking of that late summer day two years ago when I was with her for her last, and wishing she was still with us.

The bicycle rack

They're built by people in shops around the world,

often by those who use them for daily transportation.

They're shipped to ports in different countries,

and sold in stores in cities, towns and villages.

Some buy them to get to work every day,

others to do their shopping and errands.

Some have them to get serious exercise,

others for leisurely rides through scenic paths.

Bicycles find themselves together in racks

at places like New York City or Long Branch NJ.

They can sit idle for hours or just minutes,

and sprint through traffic or roll slowly by the sea.

Some have thin tires, others fat.

A few have baskets, occasionally a bell.

Some are black, some are white,

they are also red or yellow or pink.

But they're all just bicycles,

sharing space, co-existing on roads,

getting people to work, on errands,

helping some get exercise, have fun.

Landscaper to librarian, man’s job is to help others find theirs

For 15 years, Charles Gross worked in very physical jobs — commercial landscaping for a decade, followed by a few years as a carpenter, then a boat builder.

The wear and tear on his body prompted him to find a less physically demanding line of work. Without a college degree or much other experience under his weather-beaten belt, it was a challenge that would be daunting to some people. But not to Gross.

Today, Gross is a librarian at the Monmouth County Library System’s Eastern Branch on Route 35 in Shrewsbury. His specialty is the library’s Career Information Center, where he assists people looking for a career change or new employment locate information they need on a computer and among stacks of books and periodicals.

After hanging up his tools and doing a one-year stint at Brookdale Community College’s library in Middletown, Gross knew a career helping people find information was for him. While he worked in the library of Monmouth Medical Center in Long Branch on evenings and weekends, he completed his undergraduate studies at Thomas Edison State College in Trenton. He then decided to pursue a master’s degree in library science from Rutgers University in New Brunswick while working part-time in the library of Monmouth University in West Long Branch.

Digitizing records

As he first did at Brookdale, Gross initially spent much of his time at Monmouth on a “retrospective conversion” project, a huge undertaking at libraries across the country during the 1980s involving digitizing records so they could be easily accessed on computers. After earning his graduate degree in 1991, Gross began working full-time at the Monmouth University library.

“At that point, things began to get even more interesting,” Gross said.

He joined the Monmouth County Library system in 1995 as the law librarian in the Monmouth County Correctional Institution in Freehold. Gross, of Middletown, said he interacted daily with inmates, some of whom were doing legal research to better understand their options while in prison.

In 2000, shortly after the Career Information Center was launched in the Shrewsbury location, Gross began his current assignment. He said it has been his most satisfying professional experience.

“It’s nice to be able to help people in some way,” Gross said. “I’m a librarian, not a career counselor, but I’m glad to be able to help people learn how they can develop new skills, find different resources like trade journals they didn’t realize existed, or get academic credit for their professional experience.”

Computer classroom

Gross said he is most proud of helping to establish a computer classroom at the Shrewsbury branch this past year. It’s particularly helpful for senior professionals looking to enhance their computer skills and take more advantage of Web-based resources.

In addition to maintaining a large library of circulating and reference materials on changing or choosing a career, interviewing, job hunting, networking and resume writing, the Career Information Center makes available online resources with business directories and periodicals, employment projections and job listings. Online resources are available at www.monmouthcountylib.org/cic.htm.

For a one-on-one appointment with Gross at the Shrewsbury location, or to contact him with questions, call him at the library at 866-941-8188.

This writeup with new photos appeared in the August 6 edition of the Asbury Park Press.

Out of the mouths of babes

Two five-year-old girls quickly made friends on the beach in Long Branch today, exchanging names and sharing toys.  Within an hour, one of the girls noticed a man holding a sand bucket for her new playmate and the following exchange ensued:
"Is that your dad?"
"No.  I don't have a dad."
"You don't have a dad?"
"Well, he doesn't live with me."
"Me too. My dad doesn't live with me."

The conversation ended, and they continued playing happily.