In the beginning there was light, somewhat...finding the switch helped
and making sure the bill from Con Edison Electrical Co. of  NY was paid...

Three quarters of a century, 1943 to be exact, I opened my eyes at Brooklyn Jewish Hospital born to a middle income family, semi-schooled and raised in Brooklyn NY, (photo) on Montgomery Street in Crown Heights.  We were six blocks from Ebbets field and the Dodgers.  My life travels included spending a few years in Montego Bay, Jamaica and last class travel accommodations extensively over the globe courtesy of the military, rearranging landscape with explosives. 

I occasionally speak the Kings English, preferring Brooklyn based meta-phonetic syllabication (aka Street English, Brooklynise, Slang) and that explains my poor writing skills.  I’m really not a writer,  I am a story teller from Brooklyn who tells it in Brooklyn-wise.

I script, write, scribble, notate, alter, in my own patois which is a mixture of obnoxious statements embedded in extended run-on-sentences.  

I make no excuses, my point is getting a point across. Like the fellow walking with a knife stuck in his chest, one can ascertain he was not shot.  No punches pulled here.

My one real strength is I am an avid reader and researcher, since kindergarten.  Reading to me was my outlet to a new world, and escape from the neighborhood.  Dreams of foreign, intriguing, mysterious places, and meeting a special person.  Much was done under a blanket with flashlight when my mother thought I was asleep.

I was helped by a great librarian,  a much older friend at the Brooklyn library at Eastern Parkway and Schenectady Ave.   It was my home away from home and accelerated my reading and comprehending skills.  She was my coach and taught me reading was a tool to take you wherever you wanted to go or to whom you wished to be.  

The payoff, reading and self educating, allowed me to skip several grades and graduate high school two years early at just sixteen and three months.  I was glad to get out, it was a troubled school, poor teaching, community relation problems, and could be dangerous.  The city eventually gave up and closed it.   If you read on, you will see the whole story.

Off to schools of higher learning, for a couple years, then the Military again as a way to get out of the neighborhood.  I developed two other passions cooking and eating at this time.  My mother was a wonderful creative chef who never used a cook book.  I learned by watching.  And taking serious,  her threats with that ten inch cast-iron frying pan.  I learned the business end of food working in a restaurant.  Both paid for college tuition school which was a paltry 8 dollars a credit.  

Please visit  and on weekends I shot Weddings and eventually got into photography. to pay for school, but I found a greater education on the street.  School taught me how the world does things, the street taught me how I had to do things to survive.  

I humbly thank a couple of strong very smart uncles, who pushed me.  I learned more on my own in the library, later in life on the web, in inquisitiveness and on the street and from a wonderful grandfather who spoke little English but communicated  from a great humble and loving mind.  At seven I was using a gas powered blow-torch, not electric repairing toasters with Grandpa.

Grandpa kept it simple... “ Do good, gets good”.  My uncles, Jesse and Hy taught me tough wins;  Morris taught me graphic arts, kindness, forgiving, and photography;  Eddie the inventor who taught me electronics and creativeness.   

I had a good team since both parents had to work.  The most important attribute I will claim for myself, was taking NO out of my vocabulary, I researched everything, still do and made my own decisions.  I just call it being independent. 

Later in my thirties, books I read about aviation came to fruition when I bought and paid for my first real airplane, a Piper Lycoming powered 140.  I owned Cessna’s and Pipers as a Pilot In Command for 32 years... self taught, in the books,  then they told me to get an instructor, I soloed in five hours, aced the exams at the same time and had my first license at 40 hours, the legal minimum under 90 days.

I have devoted and spent a good part, most of my life, working with charities and groups, building Military Memorials, to this day I served and I salute those who served and those who paid the ultimate price of Freedom and I have been lucky enough to mingle with some very patriotic good people I have had the pleasure of meeting, working with, teaching, training and survived.