I was born on December 11, 1932, a day before my father's birthday, who immigrated from Italy after his father's death in 1918 the year of the great flu epidemic. My father graduated from Townsend Harris High School, then CCNY, and last, but not least, NYU Medical School. He then went on to become a talented ENT specialist whose patients included Arturo Toscanini, Renata Tebaldi, Franco Corelli, and Licia Albanese. I mention these artists because Maestro Toscanini would come to play an "almost" in my future.
In addition to writing poems, I began composing music and lyrics while in high school at Horace Mann in New York City. After a performance of my song "Afraid of the Dark", I was approached by a fellow student's father who wanted to record my song. Thinking of all the connections my father had, I demurred and told them my father was having it recorded. It never happened.
In my twenties, I walked the corridors of the Brill Building doing demos. I was introduced to the music director of radio station WHOM. I was presenting my songs to him in his living room when his wife rushed in hysterical that her parakeet was dying – who knew the dire effects of Teflon frying pans. I continued song writing through college and medical school.
At St. Lawrence University, I was an English major and began to write poems for the University's monthly publication. Professors would recite them in class until, one day, I was told to appear at a graduation ceremony and was surprised to receive the creative writing award.
Throughout the years, I continued to write words and compose music for the songs in this collection. I heard my music for "Blue Grotto" playing over the speaker system in my brother-in-law's restaurant, Luau 400. I had released the demo and it was copywritten. I never tracked down the recording
I succeeded in having my song "Sick, Sick, Sick presented to Frank Sinatra's music publisher. Fate intervened again, without my knowledge, as Frank Sinatra and Ed Sullivan had just had an infamous rift in which Sinatra had called Sullivan "sick, sick, sick.
There will always be inspiration from experiences and observations. Poetry was the outlet of my emotions. "Dropped Kisses" was written after the suicide due to the trauma of rape of the girlfriend of a good friend. The poem "Sudden Sadness" was written when a friend's love was accidently decapitated on one of the trellised, open elevators in Paris.
I offer you a collection of my poems – compact, creative. I often reflect on where they come from. Creation is like a chef that does not have to attend culinary school, yet has that inner source of creativeness. I seem to have combined both passions. I feed well and, I hope, I read well.