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Dark Horse Cycles on Facebook

May 2009 PDF Print E-mail

I recently celebrated a birthday...number 56 I'm told.  I think that's wrong.  The only proof I have is a piece of paper from Margaret Hague Hospital, in Jersey City New Jersey, dated 1953 that says I am.

I'm still that 9 year old boy floating a cement tub down Wolf Creek in Ridgefield with my buddy Roger, capsizing, almost drowning us both, then having to face my father's wrath for being stupid.  It wasn't stupid, only fun!

I'm still the centerfielder playing in the "Babe Ruth" league, striking out in a playoff game, on a called third strike, and almost causing a riot when the umpire throws me out for using the "F" word.  To this day I swear I didn't say it, but to the guy my father punched for calling me a liar, I guess I did.

I'm still that fearsome linebacker for Ridgefield Memorial High School, getting thrown off the team for sneaking on the bus, heading for a scrimmage, rather than facing detention and missing the game.  End result was me quitting High School, getting sent to New York Military Academy in Cornwall, New York, and promptly getting the crap kicked out of me for sneaking out of my room during study period!

I'm still the premed student attending Springfield College amongst all the phys-ed majors, loosing every dollar I had playing hearts, which I really didn't know how to play.  End result was me receiving a letter from the Dean's office that I better straighten out, or I would be kicked out of school...therefore another English Major was cultivated, and a 3.8 GPA recorded.

I'm still that 22 year old graduate of Sea Girt State Police Academy, having just been hired by Wayne Township New Jersey Police Dept., thinking I would save the world, and lasting only a year.

I'm still that 27 year old free spirit sitting at the bar at Sterling Forest during a "Budman" party, and meeting my wife of 28 years.  Still foggy about how that happened.

I'm still that 31 year old becoming a parent with the premature birth of my son, and spending 3 months driving to the neo-natal unit at Westchester Medical Center to be able to hold my child.

I'm still that 36 year old new bike shop owner, burying my father, and losing that childish innocense that comes with the all too soon loss of a parent.  This at the same time my daughter was being born 5 weeks early.

From that time on, life became a blur.  Life's been good, albeit extremely interesting in an enjoyable, and educational sort of way.  I can't say I have any regrets, as I have been busy enough not to have time to create any.  I need to stay focused as I am caring for a very ill mother, who needs me to be there.

That's why I can't be 56...I have too much more to do in this life, and too many peolpe who need me.

As I walk into my mother's condo, and if I close my eyes for just a second, I'm that rapscallion from Ridgefield walking into 620 Elm Avenue, my mother wiping her hands on her apron, and saying, "You just wait till your father gets home"... and you know what....I wish I could!

George