Temporary Bachelor

Marcia and Katelin flew off today to spend a few days in Florida with my mom, so I’m home alone until Monday. Guess I’ll have to go nuts and do something crazy like, uh . . . stay up and watch television until 11. Or . . . eat macaroni and cheese out of the pot. Or . . . get a haircut. Hmmm . . . guess I’d rather just have ’em stay home. Oh well.

Speaking of Murder and Mayhem . . .

A few days ago construction workers dug up a 55-gallon drum in the South End of Albany with a woman’s remains in it. The city has just announced that they’ve identified the victim . . . and that she’d been there for a long, long time:

“Albany Police have now identified the woman who was found stuffed in a 55-gallon drum on Friday. They say the woman is Emma Moccio, a woman who has been missing for 58 years. Her remains were discovered on Friday at a construction site at South Pearl Street. Moccio was 71-years-old when she vanished back in 1946. Albany Police say she had a bracelet on her right wrist that had her maiden name inscribed on the inside. They say she died of strangulation, possibly at the hands of her husband, although they admit they will never know. Her husband, Ralph Moccio, was convicted of murder in New Jersey in the late 1940’s. He was never charged in connection with his wife’s disappearance, but he later committed suicide in prison. Police say on the day Emma Moccio went missing, her husband was actually involved in a fight with another man that ended in bloodshed. Police say Ralph shot the man in the head, but he survived. When they went looking for answers, detectives looked to Moccio’s wife, but they could not find her. At the time, Albany Police say the search lasted only weeks. Besides the bracelet, police also found $200, which they say may indicate Moccio was trying to leave her husband.”

How many cold case files that old ever get opened up and solved again? Pretty amazing, if sad.

Ugh . . .

As always, there’s really nothing to be gained by poking at the Grammy’s, since they’ve been nothing but consistent in their ability to miss the mark, year after year after year. But, jeez, picking Coldplay for Record of the Year over Outkast’s “Hey Ya!” is such a freakin’ travesty . . . going alt in a year when listeners and critics alike, from every genre and social circle, have embraced a wonderful song, well, that’s just wrong. About as wrong as it’ll be if, say, Seabiscuit beats Lord of the Rings for Best Film at the Oscar’s this year. And while it’s sad that Luther Vandross had a stroke and all, giving him Song of the Year for a Richard Marx co-penned sugarbomb, while neglecting “Hey Ya!” or Warren Zevon’s “Keep Me In Your Heart For A While” shows that cheese wins over substance every year at the Grammy’s. Sure, they gave Zevon two awards, one for “Disorder in the House” (the one with Springsteen on it, the only song on Zevon’s last album where it seems like the guest star is trying to showboat over the dying man) and one for “Best Contemporary Folk Album” or some such nonsense like that. Zevon wasn’t a folksinger, he was a rock star. Blecch.


I was asked yesterday to become the Secretary for my class at the Naval Academy. I’ve been managing their website for five or six years or so, and it seems logical to have me do both things, so I accepted. I’ll have to write a monthly column for the alumni magazine and make myself available for reunion planning and whatnot.

No big deal, really . . . although it’s kinda perverse, given what a horror show I was as a midshipman. I think if you’d taken a survey within my company of the person least likely to ever hold a leadership position in the class, my name certainly would have been near the top of the list. Funny how the things that have value in the real world are dramatically different from the things that have value in an insular training community like that. Of course, I’m dramatically different too.

I hated the Academy most of the time I was there, and for many years after I left it. I’ve come to appreciate the fact, though, that it was probably the only place in America that would force the discipline on me that I needed to actually make it through college at that point. Had I gone anywhere else, I have no doubt in my mind that I would have failed out by the end of freshman year, and probably been dead a year or two after that. So while it wasn’t fun time, I’m grateful for the sheer bloody-minded energy that it devoted to keeping me from being my own worst enemy.

Helluva Super Bowl!

We had about a dozen people over for the game and had everyone pick their choice for winning team and total points scored, with the winner getting a $25 gift certificate from Borders. Guess who got it? Katelin! So much for all of us adult sports experts.