Craziness was all around us, and nobody worried about it. Talking with friends, I am finding it had been the same for many of us.

“What are you doing with that sauce?” Brian said like I had just stolen money from the register.

“The guy at the front counter wanted tomato sauce on his Italian Sub. Weirdest thing,” I answered, taking the ladle of hot sauce and dumping it across the cold, unfolded hero sandwich, right on top of the shredded lettuce and thinly sliced hotbox tomatoes.

I was thirteen, and I constantly worried too much trying to make everyone else happy. I was in blue jeans and a white t-shirt, just like the cool Italians from the Bronx would wear, and had an Angelo’s…

I am a good writer, but I don’t expect most of the readers on Medium to get that.

My guess is nobody will read this article either. I’ve been there before — done that. And it is fine. It is their loss. I have over ten memoirs, eight historical fictions, five romance novels, and four crime-dramas that I have written as a ghostwriter that are best-sellers and award-winners. I have always made good money as a writer. But not on Medium.

I grew up in a publishing world where if you had something to say, you said it, and if it was good, somebody would want it, pay you for it, and publish it. …

Our leaders, like most of us, are unfortunately stuck in a perpetual state of adolescence. What caused this?

To the casual observer, we must look like complete fools. Our leaders jockey for position like kids in school, trying to obtain glory within the most popular clique available and showing absolutely no scruples. Look at us! What have we come to? Have special interests and the lure of corporate backers taken over principle and valor?

Take Nancy Pelosi — she is like the girl in high school who is always on the outside, trying to drum up support with everyone else by finding fault with all the other cliques. …

A true story as reported to me by Grover

When I was a boy, back in the 1950s, I thought I would live a charmed life. I used to love fishing, skipping stones across the creek, helping my poor momma empty the buckets from our indoor latrine. I went to school. My teachers thought I was smart, and they used to call me “their little darling.”

I was a small boy, and others would customarily kick me and drag me through the fields for fun. …

That time is now at Hand

We are fools who believe You are there,

if You are not there;

Otherwise, if You are there, we must wait confidently and patiently. . .

to see what it is that You will do.

Who is right and who is wrong

only time will tell.

You must be happy to look down and watch

as we sniff to investigate the terrain,

trying to discern the territory

as our senses, emotions, instincts and intelligence

try to sway our thinking,

battling amongst themselves and then against

each other, in our hopeless pursuit to discover

who will come out on top.


A story of two American brothers, abandoned by their parents, adopted by residential care workers

In The Eyes of Love
In The Eyes of Love

Richie was unhappy with my choice of words, and so he threw his sneakers to the end of the couch, stood, and marched upstairs to his room. Laura put her arms around my neck, gave me a kiss, and said that somehow we would make it through this latest family crisis.

I breathed in deeply and realized she has had to say that to me quite often over the past ten years, and thankfully, so far — she had been right.

We were in the living room downstairs, and suddenly the lights flickered again. The wind gusted furiously against the…

Love was always there…

Even now when she glanced at an attractive man passing by on her way to work, Sarah was not certain if they enjoyed the hesitancy in her glance as they used to. The distant look on her face had now become a permanent feature and it had nothing to do with trying to play coy.

She simply could not change her mood — it seems to stick to me like the pieces of debris from Hurricane Sandy’s tidal waters which had clung to trees and bushes throughout Bayshore for weeks, she thought.

The Hurricane had changed many people’s lives, but…

Based Upon True Life Events

The swells increased greatly as we came around, eight-foot giants were now being accompanied by their twelve to fifteen-foot brothers. Roger pulled the sails in, hitched his safety line tight to his waist, and took the console. I saw to the oil level in the engine, then made sure Roger was heading straight into the mounting walls of seawater. It had come upon us in a matter of minutes … we should have heeded the morning’s forecast.

It had come upon us in a matter of minutes and neither of us had much experience with super storms, since we tended…

Is retribution always the best course of action when we are faced with situations which threaten our tolerance?

It hurts to be hurt …. And we hate it when we have to live with someone who has a much different view of life than our own. It seems our only choices are to allow our anger and frustration to turn into acid in our stomach, or we can always resort to the common thing: vengeance-seeking.

Darkness enters into our souls when we begin to feel, and then especially after attorneys or our psychologists tell us that we are justified and…

Finding Actionable Love when you figured it was Lost ….

He carried the three fishing poles and the tackle box like he was afraid he would miss something important along the trail. I was right behind him and my younger brother, Bo, was directly to my right. Frank was a worrier, an angry man prone to spells of screaming orders at everyone whenever the mood struck. This had been my mother’s bright idea.

It was the summer of 1982, and I was ten. Bo, three years younger, wore cut­off jean shorts and his old, red Keds. He wore no shirt. No self-respecting southern boy would be caught dead fishing at…

David Cenicola, M.Ed.

25 years experience writing creative fiction, non-fiction, memoirs, and descriptive prose. At:

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