October

October...and the trees are stripped bare...of all they wear...U2

It seems September flew by. What with the fire, the bathroom retro-fit, my friend being deathly ill, I never got to write about my dad at all. On the 8th of September, the day marking one year since his death...I was up to my elbows in soot and bleach trying to clean out our place from the aforementioned disruptions. Hard work always makes me think of him. So he was on my mind, even if I did not get a chance to sit down and watch the video. In a way "After September" is all about moving on from grief, getting present with the most each precious moment of our lives, however seemingly mundane, has to offer, to teach, to share. Here's to you Paul, thank you for believing in me and for having the strength to get better! Here's to you daddy. We will never forget.

Paul says Hi.

This FETCHING IMAGE WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN POSSIBLE WITHOUT PAUL REBHAN!

The greatest times we had, he instigated it all...and there is still much to do. The night this shot was taken we transformed a living gallery into something ethereal. The house was packed, the lips smacked and we got it all on video long before HBO.

YES, that's me in the fangs and the horns.

My FRIEND, Paul Rebhan

Dear my friend, I know you can't read this, but know it is coming to you like prayers from a great distance, but it is as if you are right here with me. You have touched my life in a most profound way and we have always had a non-traditional friendship, an unconditional love between two human beings void of the garbage baggage of this world. My thoughts are with you in your great battle against the force that ravages your body and the chemical warfare you are waging against it which is just as toxic. I know you are on the brink because that is the strategy for this type of treatment. You are the bravest man I ever met. You have been the inspiration to me for the entire time I have known you, as if you were meant to deliver me from madness and narrow mindedness. Which you have done. I continue to practice on the Bubbles of Perception and try to know you and the world we inhabit not through interrogation but through interpretation. I am love. I am non-violent. I am a warrior for peace whose only weapons are my words. There was a time I doubted you, many, many years ago when we were young and I trusted no one. I thought your faith in me was patronizing at best. But after many years of watching you travel the world and do the things many people only dream of, I came to realize how blessed I was to have a person like you in my life to call me friend. You are my best friend. So it is difficult to be so removed from you right now, but this is not about your friends and our comfort, this is about yours. Know that we all pray for a peaceful and painless resolution to the conflict. I know you are in a place I could not dare to imagine, yet you inspire everyone you meet to imagine. You have changed the world for the better, and will continue to do so. Andy Kaufman got nothing on you kid.

Chaos, Fire, Mayhem!

So...after the electrical fire in the cellar a week ago today, we are back in the apartment under temporary power. It has been a very hectic week to say the least. The guys were in the middle of changing out our bathroom when they had to drop everything and change everyone's locks because the fire department broke down everyone's doors. We were not home at the time having self-relocated during the construction on the tiny bathroom. We didn't find out until last Sunday when we just stopped in to see how things were going. Things were not going well. The hall still reeks of smoke, it's like 9/11 all over again. Fortunately no one was injured although the restaurant downstairs that makes Jen's favorite food (Peking 2) has been forced to close. Snug is safe and not traumatized thanks to dear friend DD who let us stay in her place for the long weekend which turned into over a week. We are all waiting to see what will happen next. The generator could run out of diesel at any time...

I Have To Write About This!

This is Farrah on the ferry from Orient Point Long Island, N.Y., to New London CT. She was a popular doggie. We were taking her from Wainscott in the Hamptons to North Branford, CT to live with her new family. The odyssey started for us the night before when I was at work and Jen was sick with a cold. Neither of us got much sleep at all. Yet when I arrived home from work at about twenty to seven in the morning, my lady was up and ready to roll. The skies were gray and heavy, rain already started to drizzle down. We jumped into the Colorado and headed for eastern Long Island. The ride out was uneventful, yet we were nervous about making our noon reservation for the ferry. Having never taken the South and North Ferry from Shelter Island to the North Fork of Long Island and Orient Point, we were not completely sure of the timing. And we were not sure how long it would take to pack up the pooch and get on our way. However, despite a last second dash to chase some kids on an RV, we got the 2 year old Golden into our truck, said our goodbyes, and headed north. She was a wonderful companion on the road. Not a problem at all, and such a hit with all the other dog loving ferry riders. When we arrived to her new home, we had a warm welcome despite the rain. The dog was soon frolicking in the backyard with her new boy. Mom and dad very happy to have this beautiful creature drop seemingly from heaven to the laps. All in all we feel we did a good thing for everyone concerned. We stayed the night in Guilford, partly because we wanted to make sure no complications arose, and partly because we were both exhausted, and Jen's cold got worse. We summd the trip up in this fashion: Tank of gas: $60.00; Ferry fees: $100.00; Dinner at the Chowder Pot: $80.00: a night in the Guilford Comfort Inn: $180.00...the sight of Farrah pooping in Holly, Jim and Tyler's back yard: PRICELESS

After September

Those of you who follow this page are the first to find out that my book of poetry, "After September" is now available on Amazon.com as well as Xlibris.com. My author page will link you to the book :

Author page: www.xlibris.com/Ransom.html

100% of my royalties are being donated to the:

National September 11 Memorial and Museum
at the World Trade Center

I can't thank everyone enough who has helped bring this project to such rapid fruition. A process begun in early June of 2009 is now complete. Well, almost. Now I have to get the word out and hope people will react. I wrote this book not so much for those who were there that day, though I hope they find it helpful in expressing their own emotions, but for those who were not, those not even born. In a sense this is a milestone in my own emotional recovery from what took place eight years ago. This moment represents my own personal climax to a healing which began on September 12th, 2001.

Moving Forward

Some last hurdles have been cleared and I am getting ready for the release of my book of poems. It all started innocently enough when I clicked on an ad on FaceBook which led me to Xlibris and the rest is...about to become history. Don't let anyone tell you that advertising on the internet doesn't work. I only wish that I thought of this a year ago when my dad was still alive. I think he would have been proud. But last year I was up to my eyeballs in work training new recruits at the DOB. No regrets. Everyone says I am a late bloomer. All the details about when and where the release will take place will be duly noted. Stay tuned.


After September
by
Mark D. Ransom
ISBN: 978-1-4415-5497-0

Mark David Ransom — comes from a long line of craftsmen. His Italian
immigrant great-grandfather worked on the world famous Brooklyn Bridge.
His German/Irish father practiced his trade at the 1964 World’s Fair and
on the State Capital in Albany, NY. He spent many years himself restoring
masonry buildings in the five boroughs, including the Brooklyn Museum and
the Empire State Building. The son of a slate roofer and a bookkeeper, and
educated by the public school system of New York City, Mark’s chosen crafts
have been making song and theater. He has done poetry slams at the Nuyorican
Poet’s Cafe and readings at Reckless in Hell’s Kitchen. He is a member the
White Horse Theater Company where he played the title role of Half in a
workshop production of the original play. A lifelong resident of New York
City, he is a poet, an actor, and a singer/songwriter. As a building inspector
and civil servant, living in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, Mark witnessed the events
of September 11, 2001, from a unique perspective, one that provided him with
the inspiration for this, his first volume of published poetry. In his official
capacity as an inspector, he documents the physical damage of city buildings.
As a poet, he investigates the emotional and psychological topography of a
new era emerging from the old. His chronicle in verse, dedicated to the city of
his birth, is written with words of healing, admiration, respect, and love.