DON'T EAT THE SNAKES

For little Lennie Stein and Aaron Stern, the journey to adulthood is packed full of exciting, fun filled adventures that begin during their childhood in the early 50’s . . . While most kids our age were getting over the thought of becoming brave and fearless firefighters, my pal, Lennie, the skinny kid with the Coke bottle glasses, was still fascinated and intrigued. But, it was my father’s decision that upset our complacent summer ritual of shooting marbles, playing foot-the-can and ring-o-leevio that set off what was to become our responsible rise to assume our place as young men. We were ruthlessly shipped off to Camp WOE-IS-ME in the wilderness of the Catskill Mountains in upstate New York. I’m going to take you with me onboard the time machine as we go back some 55 years where you’re gonna experience some of the most hilarious and scary moments about our encounters at summer camp and how this book got its title. A lovable, smelly goat named Admiral Nelson is going to steal your heart and your pants too, as he and two kids learn the facts of life. Geez. . . when the Catholic girls camp across the lake gets sold and reopens the following summer as The Rosemont Nudist Colony, will certainly keep you giggling and turning the pages. You are going to join Lennie and I as we go where no kid has ever gone before when we map new terrain in the mountains, come face to face with a hurricane, a cute, little bear cub and his angry mother, too. You’re going to meet some pretty colorful characters like Sac Et Toomee, our Vietnamese camp cook and his assistant, Willie Cheatum and Howe the dishwasher. Wait till you meet Diezel Truck, the gun toting security guard from The Rosemont across the lake. I just know you’re gonna lose it when you accompany the two of us on our very first date with two, beautiful camp counselors. Oh, the shame and embarrassment of it all. . . Blessed with an ability to playfully dabble with the metaphysical and the gift of transcendental communications, watch as Lennie and I astound you with our skills of what we called, our Boston Blackie Powers of Persuasion. They called us the “daring duo” and somehow we managed to mature from kids to young boys to young men and raised families of our own. I’m gonna tell you all about it. But the whimsical, frolicsome behavior didn’t lessen just because we had become responsible grownups. Oh no . . . When the two of us became namesake grandfathers and were presented with two little clones, the challenge of the transcendental encounters are going to leave you in tears of laughter as my pal and I lose the title of the “daring duo”. As in most families, tragedy and suffering often present themselves and for the Sterns and Steins of Westchester County, New York, the tragic events of 911 brutally takes a toll as FDNY Battalion Chief, Leonard Stein loses his life in the World Trade Center disaster. Tactfully and carefully constructed with a great deal of sensitivity and pride, this part of our adventure becomes very real and is treated with utmost dignity and respect. Yet, even through the most poignant part of this journey, the humorous and whimsical personalities of our two pals surface as Aaron is called upon to eulogize his best pal in the whole world. Our story doesn’t end there, it has only just begun: “ . . . the drizzle had turned into a light rain as everyone scampered to their waiting cars. Everybody but ME. I stood there alone and watched as the camp counselors and the bus driver completed their security checks, closed up the cargo bays and with the biblical intensity of a boulder being closed across the entrance to a tomb, the huge door slammed shut. Soon the engine of the big, spacious land cruiser cranked-up, the wiper arms began to slap back and forth upon the massive sized windshield and a hush fell over the calamity coming from inside. The enormous vehicle began, ever so slowly, to crawl away from the loading zone. It made a graceful, sweeping turn through the now vacant parking lot, slowed again and came to a stop at the edge of the driveway. A huge blast of ugly, black exhaust poured over me like a cloud as the bus leaned gently to the side and awkwardly turned onto the street. Before it made its way out of hearing range, I could vividly detect the joyful refrains being sung from inside: HOW MANY BOTTLES OF BEER ON THE WALL surely was being led by the new daring duo. . ."