I've always said that one company was just like another. I found a poem I wrote around 1970 about Jerrold Electronics Corporation. You'll see clearly that my writing style was influenced by Bob Dylan, but I find it particularly interesting that the subject matter is still applicable 40 years later. I've made some parenthetical notes to explain some particular insider terms used in the poem. Enjoy!
JERROLD
Morale’s been going down so fast
Contented employees are a thing of the past
I knew things couldn’t get much worse
So I summed it up in simple verse
Insurance is a problem here
It seems the coverage ain’t too fair
You tell yourself it can’t possibly be
But Aetna only pays you posthumously
MATV is a word of gloom (Master Antenna Television)
Jerrold builds amps that can heat a room
I hear tell an enterprising young lady
Once cooked a meal on a thirty-eight-eighty (Model 3880 got HOT)
A long time ago in a previous year
We sold the Water Works some four-forty gear (Model 440)
System acceptance is going real slow
‘Cause the units won’t work two days in a row
The “Transfer Unit” was an interesting twist
We sold a product that didn’t exist
So each guy worked on a separate portion
And it turned into an engineering abortion
Company growth is hard to conceive
If each guy coming sees three guys leave
Jobs at Jerrold are easily gotten
The benefits are bad and the pay is rotten
Steven Pein
Circa 1970
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Monday, March 15, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Getting priorities straight
For my friend Mike:
When our lunch discussion turned to the topic of people getting their priorities mixed up between family and career, I told you I had written a poem about that very subject. It's called Brian. It was inspired during a conversation I had with my cousin Shari in her New York apartment back in July 1994. I hope you like it.
Brian
Brian never really understood
That his family was on the line
That children need a daddy who works nine to five
But instead he worked from five to nine.
They were sleeping when he left the house
They were sleeping when he returned
The lonely little children never knew their dad
And they didn't care how much he earned.
So his wife became fond of the tennis coach
The children called him uncle Ray
And Brian never saw it coming
Until they packed and drove away.
So Brian went back to working
Trying to forget about the past
His hours stretched to midnight
But he told himself it wouldn't last.
He dreamed how it would be next time
The mistakes he wouldn't make again
He knew he had to cut his hours
But he didn't know exactly when.
And the years passed by too quickly
In five years he made V.P.
It was at a California convention
That he finally met Anna Lee.
And they married only two months later
And in three years had a family
And Brian remembered his vow from long ago
But it wasn't meant to be.
The fighting started shortly later
The divorce hit devastatingly
And Brian lost his second chance
It was really never meant to be.
He looks back now to reminisce
And tears fill up his eyes
He lost his job at age fifty-nine
His success was his demise.
So he drowns his sorrows in alcohol
And he remembers way back then
He swears he'd do better with one more chance
But he'd just do it all again.
Steven Pein
26 July 1994
Copyright 1994
.
When our lunch discussion turned to the topic of people getting their priorities mixed up between family and career, I told you I had written a poem about that very subject. It's called Brian. It was inspired during a conversation I had with my cousin Shari in her New York apartment back in July 1994. I hope you like it.
Brian
Brian never really understood
That his family was on the line
That children need a daddy who works nine to five
But instead he worked from five to nine.
They were sleeping when he left the house
They were sleeping when he returned
The lonely little children never knew their dad
And they didn't care how much he earned.
So his wife became fond of the tennis coach
The children called him uncle Ray
And Brian never saw it coming
Until they packed and drove away.
So Brian went back to working
Trying to forget about the past
His hours stretched to midnight
But he told himself it wouldn't last.
He dreamed how it would be next time
The mistakes he wouldn't make again
He knew he had to cut his hours
But he didn't know exactly when.
And the years passed by too quickly
In five years he made V.P.
It was at a California convention
That he finally met Anna Lee.
And they married only two months later
And in three years had a family
And Brian remembered his vow from long ago
But it wasn't meant to be.
The fighting started shortly later
The divorce hit devastatingly
And Brian lost his second chance
It was really never meant to be.
He looks back now to reminisce
And tears fill up his eyes
He lost his job at age fifty-nine
His success was his demise.
So he drowns his sorrows in alcohol
And he remembers way back then
He swears he'd do better with one more chance
But he'd just do it all again.
Steven Pein
26 July 1994
Copyright 1994
.
Crypto-One...Be Careful what you wish for.
Poetry even played a role in "Crypto-One", the companion novel to "The Six". This is a novel that ties to "The Six" and really explains where, why, and how the reincarnations (see my earlier post about "The Six") happened. The title refers to to the lead cryptographer in a team that is trying to discover the key to break a code for symbols they find in an astonishing place. In fact, it holds the key to existence as we know it, and the truth is so troubling that a previously unknown person back in 1968 discovered it and then concealed it. The poem is actually something the cryptographer found scribbled on a hidden piece of paper during his quest to break the code, and it troubled him greatly...
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
Codebreakers, codebreakers, try to conceive,
Of answers so simple they’re hard to believe,
I struggled for years in my home by the sea,
Just trying to figure what code this could be.
I cracked it at last but it soon haunted me,
I wish I had never discovered the key,
For you can’t imagine my sadness unless,
Your efforts also are met with success.
I warn you it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie,
But if you’re compelled to still give it a try,
I’ll give you a clue that will help you succeed,
Solutions are found very simply indeed.
Jonathan Hartford, III
July 1968
Steven Pein
Copyright 1995
So what do you think Jonathan found out?
.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR
Codebreakers, codebreakers, try to conceive,
Of answers so simple they’re hard to believe,
I struggled for years in my home by the sea,
Just trying to figure what code this could be.
I cracked it at last but it soon haunted me,
I wish I had never discovered the key,
For you can’t imagine my sadness unless,
Your efforts also are met with success.
I warn you it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie,
But if you’re compelled to still give it a try,
I’ll give you a clue that will help you succeed,
Solutions are found very simply indeed.
Jonathan Hartford, III
July 1968
Steven Pein
Copyright 1995
So what do you think Jonathan found out?
.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Death
This is a really weird one. Let me start off by saying that I'm not, and never have been suicidal. That being said, when I did my self-hypnosis exercises (mentioned in a previous posting) the goal was to figure out what caused the panic attacks. I decided to write "Death" in a different style than I had written my other poetry. This one started with a narrative describing the confusion about panic, an attempt to understand it, a thought that maybe there wasn't anything strange about it at all, and finally a conclusion that fear of death was normal because self-preservation was the only purpose of life. I know it's a really weird concept, but at least try to enjoy the sarcasm.
The narrative leads to a light hearted poem about a very dark thought...suicide. Please take it in the spirit that it was created; warped fun about what life without meaning would be.
DEATH
I feel the butterflies.
Sometimes they take me by surprise.
There is no pattern.
There is no rhyme nor reason.
The butterflies are here, then they are gone.
No!
They are always here.
But sometimes I pay them no attention.
What do they mean?
Living is being afraid.
It's instinctive.
Animals are always watchful for danger.
They do not trust.
They dare not trust.
But, the higher the form of life, the lower the vigilance.
What is the purpose of our being?
Maybe there is no purpose.
But, if not.......
It strikes me as somewhat confusing,
The reason for being alive,
And I find it somewhat amusing,
How strongly we fight to survive.
If life doesn't have any purpose,
Then why this obsession of man,
To stay on this earth's lousy surface,
As long as he possibly can.
If dying were really such horror,
Then no one would ever go through it,
But look at the obits tomorrow,
And tell me why so many do it.
The lesson that's here for the gleaning,
Is simple as black and white,
Since life clearly doesn't have meaning,
Why not just end it tonight?
Steve Pein
26 May 1994
Copyright 1994
.
The narrative leads to a light hearted poem about a very dark thought...suicide. Please take it in the spirit that it was created; warped fun about what life without meaning would be.
DEATH
I feel the butterflies.
Sometimes they take me by surprise.
There is no pattern.
There is no rhyme nor reason.
The butterflies are here, then they are gone.
No!
They are always here.
But sometimes I pay them no attention.
What do they mean?
Living is being afraid.
It's instinctive.
Animals are always watchful for danger.
They do not trust.
They dare not trust.
But, the higher the form of life, the lower the vigilance.
What is the purpose of our being?
Maybe there is no purpose.
But, if not.......
It strikes me as somewhat confusing,
The reason for being alive,
And I find it somewhat amusing,
How strongly we fight to survive.
If life doesn't have any purpose,
Then why this obsession of man,
To stay on this earth's lousy surface,
As long as he possibly can.
If dying were really such horror,
Then no one would ever go through it,
But look at the obits tomorrow,
And tell me why so many do it.
The lesson that's here for the gleaning,
Is simple as black and white,
Since life clearly doesn't have meaning,
Why not just end it tonight?
Steve Pein
26 May 1994
Copyright 1994
.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Don't depend on the 2010 election to solve problems.
If there's legislation you oppose that gets passed this year in Washington, don't get lulled into the notion that voting out Democrats is the answer. If you don't stop the legislation now, we'll likely be stuck with it for the remainder of the President's term. A new Congress can pass laws to repeal existing laws, but a Presidential veto can only be overridden by a full 2/3 majority in both the House and Senate. No matter how the 2010 elections turn out, it's a safe bet that Republicans alone won't ever meet that 2/3 requirement.
If you don't like what's happening in Washington, tell your Representatives and Senators. Write, phone, e-mail, and tell some friends to do the same. Attending a Tea Party might be a great idea as well.
.
If you don't like what's happening in Washington, tell your Representatives and Senators. Write, phone, e-mail, and tell some friends to do the same. Attending a Tea Party might be a great idea as well.
.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
A Circle on the Floor
In psychology, the concept of the “inner child” is often misunderstood. Actually there are very often several inner children that an individual creates as a coping mechanism to survive growing up in the presence of severe emotional and/or physical abuse. Each of the multiple inner children likely doesn’t know the others exist. (By the way, this is not to be confused with multiple personality disorder which has nothing at all to do with the inner child concept.)
In the early 1990’s I suddenly started having panic attacks, and I went through an “inner child rescue” therapy process that involved a form of self-hypnosis. During the process, I found out to my own astonishment that I had neatly hidden away many inner children to cope with various abuses during my childhood. I had long forgotten most of the events associated with the creation of these inner children, but as the hypnosis revealed them and I got to know them, the panic attacks concurrently disappeared. As a result of this incredible experience I had, I thought about how wonderful everything might have been if I and my inner children were fully visible to each other. I know the concept is a bit abstract, but I wrote A Circle on the Floor to express how the process might work if the inner children were physical beings.
A Circle on the Floor
Deep inside my head there live these separate parts of me,
Most of them just vestiges of conscious memory,
Infants, toddlers, gangly teens, and school boys of all ages,
All the different characters from my life's many stages.
Some are proud and some ashamed, abandoned and abused,
Some are lost and some are scared, and others feel confused,
All are separate entities whose lives seem unrelated,
Crammed inside one body, yet completely isolated.
Wouldn't it be nice if they could come out from inside,
And join me in a circle just to talk about our lives,
For each of them has seen life from a different point of view,
And each of them has secrets that the others never knew.
Yank the phone, turn down the lights and maybe lock the door,
Then sit around, legs folded, in a circle on the floor,
Then we could spend so many days relating what we knew,
Unraveling the mysteries, the past that we'd been through.
And gradually we'd get to know each other very well,
And then we'd merge together when there was no more to tell,
'Cause once we let our secrets out there's nothing left to do,
But travel through what's left of life enjoying it anew.
Steven Pein
July 1993
Copyright 1994
.
In the early 1990’s I suddenly started having panic attacks, and I went through an “inner child rescue” therapy process that involved a form of self-hypnosis. During the process, I found out to my own astonishment that I had neatly hidden away many inner children to cope with various abuses during my childhood. I had long forgotten most of the events associated with the creation of these inner children, but as the hypnosis revealed them and I got to know them, the panic attacks concurrently disappeared. As a result of this incredible experience I had, I thought about how wonderful everything might have been if I and my inner children were fully visible to each other. I know the concept is a bit abstract, but I wrote A Circle on the Floor to express how the process might work if the inner children were physical beings.
A Circle on the Floor
Deep inside my head there live these separate parts of me,
Most of them just vestiges of conscious memory,
Infants, toddlers, gangly teens, and school boys of all ages,
All the different characters from my life's many stages.
Some are proud and some ashamed, abandoned and abused,
Some are lost and some are scared, and others feel confused,
All are separate entities whose lives seem unrelated,
Crammed inside one body, yet completely isolated.
Wouldn't it be nice if they could come out from inside,
And join me in a circle just to talk about our lives,
For each of them has seen life from a different point of view,
And each of them has secrets that the others never knew.
Yank the phone, turn down the lights and maybe lock the door,
Then sit around, legs folded, in a circle on the floor,
Then we could spend so many days relating what we knew,
Unraveling the mysteries, the past that we'd been through.
And gradually we'd get to know each other very well,
And then we'd merge together when there was no more to tell,
'Cause once we let our secrets out there's nothing left to do,
But travel through what's left of life enjoying it anew.
Steven Pein
July 1993
Copyright 1994
.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Roller Coaster
I grew up surrounded by manic depression. My dad and his dad both suffered with it their entire lives. I suffered from chronic depression, and still do. But luckily I escaped that horrible bipolar torment. "Roller Coaster" is my attempt to project myself into my dad's mindset. I can never know for sure what he felt, but here's my best guess...
Roller Coaster
My life is a roller coaster
One that's moving much too fast
The highs are too high
And the lows are too low
But God how these lows can last.
I feel like I'm riding a coaster
With a blindfold over my eyes
I never can tell
If it's Heaven or Hell
That's waiting to take me by surprise.
Like my Father before me
And his before him too
I'm genetically sent
Through a life of torment
And there's nothing much I can do.
No matter how good the high times
They never can match these lows
In life I've been cheated
And yet I've conceded
Sometimes that's just how it goes.
And I really need somebody
To comfort me and take my hand
I just can't explain
The depth of my pain
In a way that most could understand.
But you seem so much like me
That I'm thinking if it's really true
Maybe you could
Help me feel good
And I could do the same for you.
Steven Pein
23 July 1994
Copyright 1994
.
Roller Coaster
My life is a roller coaster
One that's moving much too fast
The highs are too high
And the lows are too low
But God how these lows can last.
I feel like I'm riding a coaster
With a blindfold over my eyes
I never can tell
If it's Heaven or Hell
That's waiting to take me by surprise.
Like my Father before me
And his before him too
I'm genetically sent
Through a life of torment
And there's nothing much I can do.
No matter how good the high times
They never can match these lows
In life I've been cheated
And yet I've conceded
Sometimes that's just how it goes.
And I really need somebody
To comfort me and take my hand
I just can't explain
The depth of my pain
In a way that most could understand.
But you seem so much like me
That I'm thinking if it's really true
Maybe you could
Help me feel good
And I could do the same for you.
Steven Pein
23 July 1994
Copyright 1994
.
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