After a heavy snowstorm, how small acts of kindness quietly build a neighborhood.
All in Drinking
Not Your Average Father's Day Story
It was Father’s Day a few years ago and the kids and I decided to do a tour of the Jersey shore. The plan was to start in Asbury Park, and then we would work our way along the coast to Belmar and then end up in Point Pleasant for a late lunch. In Asbury Park, as we walked the boardwalk, I got excited as we neared Convention Hall. I told the kids to follow me...
Just Wrap Yourself In Plastic And Go
When you think of kids’ sleigh riding, you might picture a Currier & Ives print of children innocently navigating a hill of snow.
That wasn’t use as kids.
A Mary's Husband's Pub Play: Put It All On Number Four
A play written by ChatGPT based on the Belmar stories from the ‘Conflict and Scotch’ blog written by Al DeLuise
Twelfth Avenue Freeze Out
New Jersey shore houses had their own personalities, similar to the hotel in The Shining, but with more sand and far less blood in the hallway.
How I Got Here
I don’t know a lot about my parents before I showed up; their generation was not as chatty as mine. After all, I have a blog where I write about every single stupid drunken thing I have ever done in my life—before, during, and after my marriage.
The Day I Died Down The Jersey Shore
In the late seventies and early eighties, my friends and I spent summers down the Jersey Shore. It was different each time: sometimes a week, or weeks, or a month, or the full summer in houses that were just steps or blocks from the beach.
A Bouncer, Beers, and a Belmar Bar Hop
I’ve been in a lot of bars in my life (oh, stop bragging, Al) and even worked in a few of them. The best bar I’ve ever went to and worked at was Mary’s Husband’s Pub in Belmar, NJ. Now if you think working at a bar that you loved would be fun…
...you’d be wrong.
Spoiler Alert: Hitler
A family wedding, would be mobsters, and what really happened during World War One?
We may never know.
Ask Me Anything
I’ve been writing this blog for nearly fifteen years. In that time, I’ve had little contact with my readers. Some people leave comments, and some have sent emails, but mostly they read and move on.
The One Rule You Don’t Break at the Bar
I believe there are rules of etiquette that are ingrained, or embedded, by some long-forgotten moments in time that we follow throughout our lives.
It’s The Summer of Seventy-Nine
It’s the end of October, outside my window the leaves have changed, the nights come quick, so what better time to talk about a shore house my friends and I rented during the summer of nineteen-seventy-nine in Seaside Heights, New Jersey.
No Conflict Just Scotch
A few days before the fourth of July I received a text message from my son, Alexander. That in itself could be joyful or suspicious. He wanted to know if I could meet him on Friday (the fourth) after he played golf, he wanted to give me something.
The Reason I was Speechless at Work
And it had nothing to do with starting a new job
Where Comedy Is Queen
I have been to, officially, three comedy clubs in my life to see actual comedians. I’ve also been to many unofficial comedy shows in my life, but most of those were late night in bars and funerals.
Coffee, Good to The Last Dropkick
I was not a coffee person, not as a teenager, not as a young adult, or as an adult. That was until I started to work in corporate America and then, boy oh boy, did I drink coffee.
This Concert Flew Like a Led Zeppelin
Most music I like, some music I love.
Live music?
Not so much.
The Story Behind ‘Wagon Wheel’
It’s funny how some songs take on a life of their own in our own lives. Wagon Wheel for me is one of those songs.
When my kids were younger, they would compete to make a CD compilation of their favorite songs, to see which I would like best. It was through this competition where I found a world of music I never would have discovered.
Angel In a Red Dress
Back in the late seventies, just out of high school, anything was an excuse for a house party. Of course, none of us had houses, but our parents did. The best house for a party at this time was at my friend Woody’s parent’s house.
Not My First Concert
It was not mine, but it may have been my son Danny’s first concert.
Although, after what we saw that night, I’m surprised he ever went back to see another.