Return Zero

    It started innocently enough. Replying to an online ad about a temporary-one weekend job working at New York Comic Con. It was a, "meh" job at first, one I hadn't planned on expanding upon. 

Still, I applied for it again next year and began and incredible journey that ended Sunday night, October 12th, 2025, after 15 years of walking the halls of convention centers from New York City to Chicago.

Time, and mainly my body, dictated it for me. I'd like to continue, but going into this year, i'd told myself, and been told by many others, to, "listen to your body."

Well, mid-way through Sunday's shift, my body had made its decision, and with mass amounts of pain, I came to the conclusion that I simply cannot do it anymore.

For years now, as my Parkinson's symptoms increased, i'd push through them and soldier on, trying to set an example for my fellow con crew, most notable the newer, younger ones, who, at times, showed a lackadaisical, careless approach to the job. I wanted to show them that sometimes you have to work through the pain.

Don't get me wrong, it was fun, but it was still work. Work I took seriously. Whether it be corralling a line of hundreds, eager to see Chris Evans, or helping direct a lost con-goer to the right booth for that toy they were looking for. I tried, and hopefully succeeded in doing the job, and doing it well. 

I'll always wonder what happened to that guy and his friend in the wheelchair. I wonder if the friend ever got better.

What I didn't expect at first was the ever growing family of friends i'd develop from all of this. People who would shape my life in so many different ways. The staff leads that i'd work under, and eventually become one of, offered me guidance and encouragement that I still utilize. 

The kid from the west coast who lives the life of a roadie, all pretty much in NYC. Her affinity for cat-sitting is matched only by warmth and kindness she has for her friends. Fiercely loyal, she has talked me off many a proverbial ledge, and her friendship has been one of the few constants that has endured throughout the years. her boisterous laugh is eclipsed only sometimes by her Squee of excitement.

The man who took me under his wing and helped form me into a seasoned, well trained veteran is one who simply doesn't know what the word, "rest," means. This guy who, at least in our sector of the universe, coined the term, "Con-Life." This man gives with no thought of reward other than to see the smile that comes with one of his much-loved bear hugs. He instantly makes the energy level go up. You want to work for simply because you feed off his happiness.

The man from the bellows of New Jersey who says some of the most uncouth things, and follows it up with something so eloquent and from the heart that it will make your head spin. Despite his often dark attire, his positive attitude is like a ray of sunshine.

The "Crew-Mom" from Queens who isn't afraid to call out others on their nefarious ways, but has the heart and soul of of a dove, and yes, that is a bird watching pun.

There's the, "Salty-Cow," who once trudged through Lower Manhattan for hours with me just to get a good photo. I still remember how good that gelato tasted. Her legs often feel the aches and pains associated with her love of soccer, yet she still uses them to walk the halls of cons nationwide.

The guy who gave up all sense of sanity to drive to and from Chicago with me, and loves baseball probably more than a roomful Yogi Berra impersonators. You shall forever more be known as, "No-Photos Guy."

The man I nicknamed "Hightower," after a "Police Academy character. His broad shoulders are outweighed by his massive capacity for empathy. He like me often, "threatened retirement." I only hope he finds as much peace as he seeks.

And to the one who visited me in the hospital, which while not my sole memory of, one of the most notable...aside from her effervescent, always smiling attitude, she lights up every room she's in, and she just married her ultimate match. May your days from here on out be filled with happiness.

To the snack queen who always made sure we were fed, and always made movie night...or day...a extra special treat.

The crazed theater girl from Long Island, whose sometimes manic energy is something I wish I had in me. Despite us being equal in age, she has the stamina of a 10 year old on a sugar rush.

Then we have the girl from Washington D.C. Yes, that one. She would be the one who drove me mad in both good ways and bad. Never vanilla, never boring, always keeping me on my toes. I didn't think I truly knew what, "Chaotic Good." meant till I met you. I'll never look at an oscilloscope the same way ever again...and wherever you are, I hope the Quinoa is palatable.

So many people, so many faces.

From Chicago, a man of such passion and goodness, yet so humble he simply can't realize how much good he brings into the world, and when he tells a story, everyone stops and listens, and not simply because his accent is like butter, but because deep care he has when he tells it.

Another Chicagoan who, at first, I had a completely different opinion of, and showed me, very fast, that people are not always who you think they are, and that is a good and powerful thing, and even though, i'm not his first favorite Jedi anymore, i'll always be his favorite voice on the radio, K.

While on the topic of friends from the midwest, I shouldn't leave out the girl who brought me donuts, smiles and the infamous, "list of good and bad people." 

The crazed cat owner who supplied for the feline family by driving an Uber and deeply enjoying New York Pizza, despite hailing from the Second City.

The list is seemingly endless, of those who have come into and out of my life during this time.

There were the guys from New England, who, like a pair of overly zealous bouncers, enjoyed being in the thick of a massive crowd of angry, frothing geeks.   

The one who was among the first to learn of my diagnosis, yet pushed me to do a challenge that, while it didn't end exactly the way I wanted it, led me on another path to meeting some of the most important people in my life. I don't think she realizes what good she did.

The one boss who became a friend that expanded my skills as a photographer all in one epic year. Now retreated into the gardens of Connecticut to a simpler life of family. I hope the coffee sleeve collection is still going strong.

My second "Con-mom," who probably doesn't know how much a simple phone call meant to me, and the one who had the best exit, complete with a crew shirt that saw many a signature. I'm still waiting for that radio story.

To The guy who gave me power, despite barely knowing what I could have done with it, and trusted the keys to a crazy guy from Staten Island.

The insane mad scientist in the making who loved to climb things, and never did think the lemon joke was that good.

And the girl who went from fake tanks to real tanks when she decided to fly helicopters and get shot at instead of discus who would win in a fight, Batman or Wolverine?

From the guy in the hat, to the girl with the Google glasses.

From D.C. again, now in Jersey...a guy who won't let a building locking down stop him from his mission of ensuring a good time is had by all.

The other guy from Queens who would become one of the best cosplay photographers in the city.

even the person who couldn't quite make the best of final Jeopardy. 

And to the two girls from L.A., who most recently made this geeks Con-Career that much more powerful, I owe you a lot, and will not forget how much you helped me recently.

You and countless untold others will be part of some of the best years of my life. Twenty Two years ago, I swore i'd never pick up a comic book or watch a geeky movie ever again. This a result of having something I held dear ripped away from me. The scars of that year still fresh. But like all scars do, they healed, and though their memory still lasts, I became a stronger person from it. 

When I returned to the geek life, as I call it, I entered the water like a frightened child. Once a 3 foot deep swimming pool, geek culture had massively expanded into a bottomless ocean, one in which i'd need more than a canoe to navigate. 

When I started working Cons, I again felt like a small fish in a giant sea, but this time, a community had helped me grow and I am forever thankful for it. I look back at those exciting few minutes before the doors would roll up, and the thousands entered the halls, as us being the Knights of King Arthurs court. We were in Camelot. A place where heroes go before fighting evil. And even though we weren't fighting evil, we at times, fighting an epic battle.

While to some it may seem silly...to be this bent up over a job that consisted of maybe up to 15 days a year. You don't understand what it truly means to share the field of battle with some of the greatest people you will ever meet. 

It was Zach Braff's character J.D. from the show, "Scrubs," who once said, "Endings are never easy. I guess I build them up in my head so much they can't possibly live up to my expectation and I just end up disappointed. I'm nto even sure why it matters to me so much how things end here. I guess its because we wanna believe what we do is very important. That people hang on your every word, that they care what you think. The truth is you should consider yourself lucky if you get to make someone, anyone - feel a little better...and even though it felt warm, and safe...I knew it had to end."

I am incredibly sad that this had to end. I'm tearing up as I write this...but I am so, so, so happy I got the chance to live it.

Knocking The Meatball Off The Tree

   Christmas for me wasn't always a year-round thing like it is now. I know, shocking, right? There was actually a time when Christmas was only a few weeks out of the year. Now it seems like next Christmas begins at roughly 9:45am on Jan. 2nd of every year.

Oddly, I can't think of many early Christmas memories off the top of my head. When It really started pumping was around 1986ish. At least that's when I start being able to pick out specific memories and experiences.

We'd just moved into our new apartment that year, and I distinctly remember cookies being made & presents being opened. Family from both sides would come over, my fathers here on Staten Island, & my mothers from various points in jersey. For a few years we switched it up and went to various relatives houses, but for the mainly it seemed like everyone came to our place most years. Maybe this was because I was the youngest out of the grouping until cousins on my mothers side came along.

Back to the cookies, we ran an operation that could have put most bakeries to shame. We baked upwards of 15 different types of cookie, and at least 4 batches of 25 cookies (at least.), All told the baking alone took the better part of 6 days, one for just shopping. Sometime around the late 90's, maybe as late as 1998, we stopped for a few years due to just....massive amounts of other things demanding our time. But in 2003, to help honor the passing of my mother, we restarted the cookie bake, trimming down the variety to about 10, but increasing the quantity. This was due in part to a new twist. We would hand deliver boxes of cookies to firehouses here on Staten Island. This tradition would actually last until 2016. Now we've streamlined things a bit more, opting to ship cookies to friends & family out of state, and we've lowered the batch count to a more manageable 10 or so.

If you thought the cookies were impressive, just wait till I get into decorating. Most people, from what i've gathered through informal polling have 5 or 6 boxes of decorations. We have about 11 totes, 15 boxes, and a few bags for soft stuff, pillows & stuffed Santa's . The bathroom alone has multiple boxes, though this may change with our upcoming remodel. The decorations range from your usual stockings(personalized of course)and wooden signs, to more eccentric items, such as the Yoda figurine, wherein the diminutive Jedi master has donned Santa's hat and coat with a sack full of toys.

We used to take photos to guide us each year as to what went where, trying to keep to form each year, but over the years kinda decided to change things up every so often. This has led to a bit of confusion when it comes to packing it all away and finding what goes where next year, but we manage.

Until we moved in 2001, we never really had the chance to decorate outside. Since then however, we've gone outside. 2001 was also around the time "icicle lights" became the rage, in fact, they were so hard to find at one point, we resorted to using blue lights until we could find the traditional white ones, a fact bemoaned by my mother, who loved the white lights(Personally I like the more colorful ones). With about a week to go before the big day that year, we finally found enough to fill the roof, leaving us with a sudden excess of blue lights. Making the basement more of my own sort of pool/game room, I had them hung down there for a few years leading to quite a weird effect.

Recently, due to my fathers advancing age, and my arms being essentially made out of tissue paper, the notion of going up on the roof is simply not plausible, so we've opted for an easier lawn setup, complete with a T-rex carrying a gift. "Denver the Dinosaur", is as I call it, the most accurate Christmas decoration you can find. Dinosaurs are fossils, which is what plastic is after all. My idiot logic is solid on this.

Shopping for the big day has always been...interesting. What really changed things for starters, for me at least was when we started taking our summer vacations, usually in late summer, in Cape Cod. It was here where we discovered, "Christmas Tree Shops." For those of you who are unfamiliar with the chain, they're kinda like a bargain version of Bed Bath and Beyond, with a focus on holiday knick-knacks, 4th of July, Halloween, and of course Christmas. Being the crafty person she was, my mother loved the store, and we'd often have the car filled with Christmas gifts purchased from there for various family and friends. Keep in mind this was often late August.

Once I got a sizable income, I could finally contribute to the gifting en-masse. And wow did I. I'd often come home with bags full of gits from the mall, making a detailed shopping list, denoting the giftee, date of purchase, time, location and price. I made, and still do, a vow to never give out a gift card or money. Honestly, and maybe this is just me, I find it impersonal and lazy. If you're even giving the mental space to get someone a gift, put a bit of effort into trying to get to know them. A little effort shows that person you're thinking of them.

The advent of online shopping has made things a bit easier in terms of finding hard to locate items, and I do purchase things online, but I try my hardest to use brick and mortar stores. I worked retail, during the holidays, and I know how difficult it can be to survive in that industry so I try to give back. Though I do enjoy sitting in the food court of the mall on Black Friday, sipping a hot chocolate, watching the chaos unfold.

When it comes to the tree, I, as I am with many things(Asperger's makes me a lil weird), very specific. This also comes in part to just the way the tradition has gone, how we've done things since I can remember. For starters, its a real tree, ok? Don't give me that fake abomination. That is a flat out insult to me. I take this very seriously. Well, sort of. I understand if someone is elderly or allergic  or disabled, but if not....there's no reason you should have a fake tree. The tree is usually purchased about 12 days before the 25th. Next, the tree has to have a booty. I want it thick. Just like my s'mores. It's gotta be at least a foot taller than me too. Those are the guidelines that are to be followed.

When we get the tree home, we cut off lil branches and make room on the bottom...which is where one of the...more interesting stories comes from.

I don't remember the exact year, but it was the early 90s. The tree was up and in the stand and we'd  begun putting the lights up. Noticing a few branches he missed, my father, scholar that he is, got the clippers out and began cutting....right into the wire. The tree instantly went dark. Reacting without thinking, as kids often do, I screamed, distraught, "You ruined it! You ruined Christmas!", as I ran, crying into my room. Thankfully, it was a simple fix. Ever since, we joke about making sure we get all the cuts done before putting on the lights to avoid another, "Ruined Christmas."

The way it goes is this; Lights, garland, and then the ornaments. There are about 3 boxes of those, and the tradition there is, the oldest goes first, and when I say oldest, I mean oldest. A paper/carboard Santa covered in glitter that belonged to my great grandmother. It's easily over a century old and how its lasted this long I don't know. We flip a coin to decide who gets to do it, then go about the rest of the tree with every variety of ornament you can think of, from photos to LEGO to traditional glass. Christmas music is obviously setting the tone, and it takes anywhere from 2 - 2 1/2 hours.

Something that was told to me a few years ago, was that as a baby, for my first few Christmases, i'd do nothing but stare at the tree for hours on end, which oddly enough, I've found myself doing in recent years.

Under the tree is our Christmas village, much of it consisting of Department 56's, "Snow Village" series. Some of the figurines have seen better days, and i'm slowly starting to replace them in an effort to make the town more...lively...?

Throughout the month, i watched, and still do, many of the specials, from "A Charlie Brown Christmas", to "Rudolph", but one of my favorites would actually be David Letterman's annual Christmas episode, where Paul Shaffer would impersonate Cher, focusing especially on the fact she wore a muff, Jay Thomas would tell undoubtedly the best  talk show story of all time, and Darlene Love would wrap it up with an epic version of, "Christmas, Baby Please Come Home."

As tradition heavy as I am, I don't have a particular script I stick to on Christmas eve. Not anymore anyway. It used to be cookie delivery, but in recent years has mainly been about either tidying up or gift wrapping. I think I need a new Christmas eve tradition.

Christmas day. The big one, my Super Bowl. It used to start like this...

I'd wake up, make it approximately 2 feet out of my room before my mother intercepted me like a cop about to take down a criminal, and drag me into the bathroom to stylize my hair for photos. She was hilariously oblivious to the fact that -no one looks that good when they first wake up- This would fall on deaf ears however, as the hairspray turned my head into a helmet. Finally me and my father would get this point across and I made my way to the tree obstacle free.

I used to go first, always starting with the stocking, which has always been filled with snacks, batteries and socks, which, lemme tell you, become a much better gift as you get older. We'd then open one gift at a time, alternating person to person as we had, and continue to have, a glass of Martinelli's apple cider.

Over the years, this has stayed pretty much the same, with small variations here and there. I won't go deep into gifts because that's not what the day is about for me, but I will say that one of the best I ever got is a scrapbook my father made me a few years ago, featuring sort of a, "best of photo series" chronicling my life. There's also been the yearly Hess truck.

The rest of the day has varied throughout the years, but up till a few years ago, i'd spent the majority of the day with a friend a few blocks away. It's been difficult recently, due to the fact I simply don't have much family left and many friends have honestly moved on.

As I look back, I always fondly remember Christmas 2001. It was the first in our new house, and following September 11th, there was a real sense of togetherness and want for a good day. All told, we had over 75 people at the house, with some even having to park on the front lawn due to lack of parking on the block. It was kinda warm from what I recall, which resulted in opening the garage to accommodate more people. It would also be one of the last times the core four of me and my childhood friends would all be together. It would be my mothers last healthy Christmas, though we didn't know that at the time. It was simply put, the best Christmas I ever had. I was surrounded by people I wanted to be around, everyone had a good time and it was just so....ugh I know its lame to use this word, magical.

Remembering it...it seems like just yesterday and not nearly 20 years ago. So much has transpired. I've lost not just family and friends, I've been hit with Parkinson's, Asperger's, bum elbows, depression. I've lost so much and tried desperately to hang on to any facet of previous holidays that I am often disappointed in the end result as of late. No one is around, no one seems willing to interact with others due to the current climate of vitriol it seems. People are less tolerant, less patient and more distracted. It's sad what the holiday has become. It's also become so commercial that even the commercials are commercialized.

Still, I have small vestiges of goodness. I still bawl like a baby at the end of, "It's A Wonderful Life", my mothers favorite Christmas movie. I still name the Christmas tree, and I still have hope for that happy moment under the mistletoe.

Don't Profit, Don't Be Late.

   I'm an emotional guy in a time when that's still not well accepted, I wanna get that out and in the open now.

   Yesterday's passing of Cranberrieslead singer Dolores O'Riordan hit me in a way I didn't anticipate. I was a fan of thier music, but not to the point of which it'd stop me in my tracks, but I appreciated them and the fact they took pride in their Irish heritage.

   What struck me most is, I remember moments when I was listening to thier songs as,"new"...now it's all but classic rock which is...sobering. She and time will dictate how my generation is viewed, that fact is not lost on me.

   This past October, I lost a friend, Marcus, who I sadly didn't get the opportunity to get to know as well as I would have liked, yet that also struck me in a far heavier way than I thought.

   Life is precious, the masses will say at times like this. It's a cliche that borders on white noise, but it is true. What,  moreover is true, is that time is what really is precious. Time and those you choose to spend it with.

   Spend it with the quiet people. They often have good things to share. They observe quite well.

   Spend it with the boisterous people, they'll break ice quite well.

   Spend it with the young. You'll find that thier views on the world are full of hope and wonder.

   Spend it with the old, for they have experienced more and have valuable lessons to teach.

   But do not spend too much time alone. The people we surround ourselves with make us who we are.