Tom Shine Brightened Up People's Lives

Losing a good friend never gets easier and when you hit your sixties, more and more folks you know start falling off the planet. Tom Shine's life ended on Saturday from a heart attack after fighting cancer for several years at age 72. 

I met Tom in 1977 in San Jose when I started my freshman year at San Jose State. I was looking for a place to live, so I drove up from my home in L.A. and what I saw was shocking. The downtown looked like Ground Zero with hookers, drug dealers, and junkies everywhere. I found a room in an old Victorian called Ivy Hall and the first person I met there was Tom. 

"How bad is the neighborhood?" I asked him. 

"It sucks, but hey--the rent is $90 a month and that includes utilities. Wanna beer?" 

Over the next four decades, Tom and I hoisted a few beers and were roommates who lived in different configurations. First, we lived in an apartment complex where I was the manager as we partied away much of the mid-1980s. 

We became well-known for our annual Super Bowl soiree and another bash that we named The Apocalypse-- a world-ending celebration that lasted for days. We made Kahlua every Christmas to give to people as gifts, we held poker tournaments, bachelor parties, barbecues, and book club meetings. 

We called it the Bachelor Flat. Pretty soon, the local police were closing down our parties every weekend, to the point where we befriended several of the officers. On Sundays, we would play softball at Williams Street Park from 10 am until dark and then hit the flat for some late-night revelry. 

Later we roomed together at 133 East Reed Street in downtown SJ in an old house that was built in the late 1890s by Thomas Reed, one of the last survivors of the Donner Party. This too was a legendary party house as 3-4 guys rented rooms at $150 monthly each and tried to kill as many brain cells as humanly possible. 

Tommy and I hit it off right away because we both love history and sports. He supported all of the professional teams from Boston passionately--the Celtics, the Red Sox, the Patriots--even the Bruins and had zero issues needling me about my Lakers and Dodgers. And he was a great source of fascinating factoids about history (not fake news or "alternate facts"). He also followed the SF Giants and Forty-Niners and was also a big supporter of the women's basketball team at Stanford. 

Tom (pictured center with myself left and Todd Axtell, far right) loved cycling, eating, reading, eating, watching sports and movies--and did I mention eating? He was an active athlete who played basketball against Dr. J. while he attended UMass in 1969-70, and was a fairly impressive over-the-line (softball) player. 

He was one of those people who could eat anything and not gain weight. Watching him consume a huge piece of chocolate cake was priceless. He made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that had their own zip codes. We would make late-night runs to Original Joe's for their killer burgers and ravioli and more than once we would finish off an XL pie from the House of Pizza without hesitation. I got fat and he stayed the same--tall and lean. Story of my life. 

Tom grew up in Jamaica Plain, MA and I was able to go there to visit with him in 2000. His sister Pat got us some awesome tickets for a game at Fenway Park, but then it got rained out. During the last 20 years of his life, Tom's teams won six Super Bowls (Pats), one NBA title (Celtics), two World Series Championships (Red Sox), and one NHL title (Bruins). He loved winners and hated things like Deflategate, the Tuck Rule, and don't dare say anything about his beloved Belichick! 

The best thing I can say about Tom Shine is that he was a good friend to his friends. He was a solid dude who cared about us and would put himself second always. He was smart and engaging and appreciated conversations that ranged from who killed JFK to does Sasquatch really exist? He loved recommending new series on Netflix or Amazon and discussing what he was reading at the time.  

One sad thing about Tom's passing is that he didn't get to see the Goat (Tom Brady) play on Saturday. He was actually sitting down getting ready to watch the game when he had his heart attack. I wasn't planning to root for Brady's Tampa Bay Bucs this year, but now I will--for Tommy. 

Tom will probably be most remembered for his kindness and his commitment to his family and those people who were lucky enough to call him friend. 

The Pandemic Pet Project Approaches the Finish Line

 As of today, I've drawn 900 pets for people over a 225-day period as part of the Pandemic Pet Project, something I started back in April to retain my sanity during all of this confusion and anxiety. 

To come up with a nice round number, I decided a few months back that my goal would be 1,000 pets total.  

So, I have 100 left and that's why I am writing this post. 

The PPP worked better than I could ever imagine, but it has gone much longer than I anticipated. I thought the pandemic would be done by now, but boy--was I wrong. 

I figured that I would draw maybe 100 pets mostly for my friends, but boy--was I wrong. 

I thought I'd only hear from people in California primarily, but boy--was I wrong. To date, I've drawn pets for folks in 32 states and 11 countries. 

So, if you haven't sent me photos of your pets yet, now would be the ideal time. (Also, be sure to message me your mailing address.) 

If you were thinking of telling your friends about the project, now is also a good time. Because on December 29th, the project will be over and I'll have to start something else to draw. 

It's been a great journey and I appreciate everyone who donated to the pet rescue of their choice by participating in the PPP.

-Ed 

The Pandemic Pet Project Hits 800!

It all started back in April when a friend asked me to draw his family pets. They were stuck at home and the kids were bouncing off the walls. When I sent them the drawings, they posted them on Facebook and before I knew it, more and more friends were asking me to draw their cats, dogs, birds, reptiles, and even one blind raccoon. 

I thought I'll distract myself with this fun project until this virus goes away. If it lasts a few weeks, I will get to make a few people happy along the way. Little did I know that the pandemic wouldn't stop or even slow down, so I kept drawing. 

A few of my friends offered to pay me for the drawings, so that's when I got the idea of using the art to raise money for pet rescue organizations. I've always believed in "pay it forward" with all of my philanthropy and I rarely just hand the money over. I love doing fundraisers and using my art to raise money because obviously as a writer (and under-employed at this point) I don't have the funds to support all of the things I want to do.  

Then, the Bay Area News Group contacted me one day and I was interviewed for an article that appeared in the San Jose Mercury News and The East Bay Times. During the two days after the article came out, 250+ people sent me photos of their pets to draw. 

I stressed out for a day or so, but then bought some new pens and pencils, a bunch of colorful envelopes, and a ton of stamps. I drew the 250 pets in 125 days and then ABC News did a piece on the Pandemic Pet Project, resulting in another deluge of pet photos. 

https://abc7news.com/animal-shelters-art-for-good-donations-fundraiser/6376795/

What have I created here? What is the end game? 

Yesterday, I drew my 800th pet by doing four every day since mid-April. My plan is to draw as long as I keep getting photos of pets with the idea of wrapping it up when I hit the big 1,000! 

So, if you know someone who wants a piece of original art and is willing to make a small donation to the pet rescue organization of their choice, there is still time. Also, if you received your art, please don't forget to take a photo of my drawing and the Post-It for our social media. And if you haven't donated yet please do so--it really means a lot. 

Thanks for participating in my crazy art project and remember this--"Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on Earth.” — Muhammad Ali

A Life-Changing Stroke of Luck

Today is the 11^th anniversary of my stroke. I found a blog (“Stroke!’) that I wrote three weeks after the incident in 2009: 

“I was writing one morning and all of a sudden, I couldn't read anymore. I’m wiped out for working 12 hours days, I thought, so I decided to take a quick nap. One hour later I woke up and The View was on TV. Did an argument between Barbara and Whoopi give me a stroke while I was asleep and if so, can I sue them now?

I ran upstairs and my wife (my ex now) looked at me like a confused dog, with her head slightly tilted like WTF. She showed me a picture of Mickey Mouse that was on her desk for some reason and asked me who is this? That’s Freddy, our terrier I replied.  At that point, it was time to get to SF General Hospital. Five days later, I was out, but my brain was still scrambled.

My friends would ask me what happened and I couldn’t even say the word stroke. It was either, streak, steak, strike, or stoke, and then finally my brain would find it, like a broken Rolodex. I'm happy because the stroke was relatively minor. My body is okay. But now I am having difficulty talking and writing. I am going to have to go on disability for a few months. The prognosis looks very good--the doctors are saying that I should be back close to 100% after a few months.

I can talk clearly, but finding the correct words can be tough at times, especially the multi-syllabic ones. (like spontaneous, collaboration, appreciate--these are hard words for me to say these days.) Soon, I will be going to speech therapy.”

I read these words now and I realize that I was working really hard not to let anyone know that I was absolutely terrified. One of my biggest fears was that I wouldn’t be able to be a professional writer again. I worked so hard to get there, and now it’s all gone. At first, I couldn’t write a sentence without some difficulty and things weren’t progressing. One of my friends suggested that I become a full-time dog walker. Another one said they hire slow adults at the Apple Store and Chevy’s. Am I going to end up as a greeter at Target? Please God, no!

One night in the hospital, I started thinking, is this how it’s going to end? I surely created a mess to clean up, including obesity, high blood pressure, congestive heart failure, sleep apnea, and diabetes at 50 years old. In a screenplay, they call this the inciting moment, where the main character succeeds or folds. I knew I didn’t want to fold anymore.

So, I committed to improving my life through a better diet, sobriety, and exercise and it worked. I went back to writing 15 months after the stroke and lost more than 100 lbs. I have to give credit to my ex-wife for helping me through this time. She always said that she enjoys fixing people and I surely needed some fixing. (Unfortunately, once the repairs were complete, Project Ed was over.)

The last 11 years have been the best years of my life. There have been some tough moments along the way (divorce and the passing of my father primarily), but the great things have outshined everything else. My art has exploded and the joy I have brought to people through my Pandemic Pet Project has been so exciting and fulfilling. I’ve tried to be a better listener and to help my friends, although I still maintain the three basic rules of friendship and they’ve worked for me (Don't ask me for money, I don't want to help you move and get your own ride to the airport!)

Who knows what will happen next? Some people counted me out 11 years ago, but I’m still standing. I still need some repairs, no doubt. But, if someone tells me to enjoy the journey and embrace the moment, I am going to scream!   

My First Call from a Crazy Cat Lady

Sometimes I get halfway through a conversation and think, wow I should have recorded it. The other day, my phone rang and I didn’t recognize the number, but I picked up anyway.

“Hi, are you the guy drawing peoples’ pets?”

“Yes.”

“I’m trying to post my cats on your Facebook page, but it doesn’t work.”

“Okay, how many cats do you have?”

“Nine.”

“Do you want me to draw all nine of them?”

“I know, it said limited to two pets, but I love them all and…”

Then she talked for five minutes about her cats, their names, the fact that she feeds strays down by the high school every night, etc. etc.

I decided to have a little fun with her.

“You know. It takes me at least 20-30 minutes to draw each pet. I need to look at the photo and, in some cases, I have to meet the cat before I can start.”

“How does that work?”

“If you can herd them together, we can do it on Zoom.”

I was waiting for the laugh, but it didn’t come so I kept going.

“Plus, I will need to do background checks on all of your cats.”

Still no laugh.

“I’m sure your cats are fine, but we need to know because I can’t be associated with convicted felines.”

“I got these cats all as kittens, except for Fuzzy.”

“Then, we will need to check Fuzzy out. Who knows what he’s been up to?”

“He just sleeps most of the time.”

I am trying not to laugh now.

“Send me your four favorite cats and I will draw them.”

“Thanks.”

Click.

I thought about taking my phone number off the Pandemic Pet Project page, but then I thought—this is writer’s gold. The journey continues.
I know there will be a follow-up call, so stay tuned.

The Pandemic Pet Project is still going strong and without no end of this in sight, it may eventually become the Perpetual Pet Project. https://www.facebook.com/pandemicpetproject/?modal=admin_todo_tour

(Illustration courtesy of Dmitry Abramov) 

California Artist Draws Happiness for Pet Owners During Coronavirus

In mid-April, Bay Area Artist Ed Attanasio began looking around for something he could do to bring joy to people during the COVID-19 pandemic.


One day a few friends asked for him to draw their pets, and when they saw what he had created, they either smiled or cried tears of joy.

So, he reached out to all of his friends, fellow artists, and a few celebrities on Facebook and Instagram and started the Pandemic Pet Project (PPP), where he offers to draw peoples' pets for free. In return, Attanasio asks them to pay it forward by donating whatever they can to their local pet rescue organization, if possible.

What started as a favor to friends, his idea quickly gained momentum. "I thought maybe half a dozen people would respond, but on the first day, I had 30 requests and more than 50 by day two, and it's still growing! Right now I am drawing four every day." (Total to-date: 144 illustrations requested and nearly 100 done.)

Attanasio is hoping that by getting the attention of certain celebrities, the PPP will grow and raise more money. "I am drawing pets for people like Ellen Degeneres, Rachael Ray, and Beth Stern because I am so proud of all the animal advocacy and charity work they do."

If you want your pet drawn by Attanasio, visit Pandemic Pet Project on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pandemicpetproject and submit photos of your pets (limit two per person) with your mailing address (via Messenger).

About the Artist

Ed Attanasio, 61, started sketching as a form of rehab after he had a mini-stroke in 2009. Little did he know that eventually, his illustrations would lead to a career as an artist, astounding critics, gallery owners, his friends, and even himself.

Attanasio's stroke didn't affect his motor skills, but it scrambled his brain to the point where he was unable to continue his job as a journalist/advertising copywriter. It was a scary time for Ed because he weighed 350 lbs. And at age 50, he also had other serious health issues.

One day, his speech therapist suggested that he should get involved in some type of activity where he'd be using his brain daily. So, he started drawing a series of illustrations on post-it-notes, for hours and hours while he underwent a 14-month recovery, including the loss of more than 120 lbs.

Ed drew these characters only as part of his therapy and nothing more at first, he explained. "I never thought anyone would see them, and I surely never imagined I could sell them. My friends always seemed to enjoy them, but eventually, they would migrate down to our refrigerator door and after a while, they'd disappear. I figured they were getting tossed, but I wasn't concerned, because I could see that I was steadily improving and knew the art played a role."

Then, in October of 2011, Attanasio's therapist and his ex-wife handed him a notebook, and all of the drawings were there—close to 400! Over the next 14 months, he created a wacky collection of baseball and football players, gangsters, dinosaurs, dogs, birds, monsters, and aliens.

A stroke of genius or just plain luck? "All of these peculiar-looking illustrations that have emerged from my stroke-scrambled brain were all together and ready for something…but what?" he said. "Could this be more than just a hobby or a distraction?" The answer turned out to be yes!

As he browsed through the images, Ed thought wow--these characters drawn in black felt pen and colored pencils tell a great story. "For more than a year, I didn't know if I would be able to be a professional writer again, and these drawings are a map that shows how I recuperated…. or maybe digressed, depending on how you look at it," he laughed. "After I went through all of the images, I assembled them into a series of collages, and that's how the whole thing began. In many ways, this art saved my life."

Today, Attanasio continues to draw on post-it notes and sells originals and prints. In 2013, his baseball players ("Bushers") became a graphic novel, and shortly after that his art career began to flourish. Known as "outsider art" or "folk art," Attanasio's Post-It creations have sold online and through galleries in the U.S., U.K., Australia, Germany, and Russia, just to name a few.

For more information about the artist, visit www.my3x3world.com
or watch https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JUu1sZ6mvsE&t=1s

My Art Makes People Happy & That's All I Need

Taco Bell Drive-by

I was out running errands the other day and I decided to pick up some food at Taco Bell. I used to be a big Taco Bell fan, because I read an article that said their cuisine is the healthiest fast food out there. In my thirties, I hated cooking and ate at Taco Bell 2-3 times every week. My normal order was usually 2-3 tacos, 1-2 burritos and a large drink and that’s probably why I was grossly obese for several decades.

Their menu back in the 1980s wasn’t very creative. Every month they would unveil a new item like the Beefy Mini Quesadilla, the Cheesarito, the Crunchwrap Supreme, the Indigestible, and the Double Tostada—all of which are now long gone.

Now, I join the Bell system maybe 3-4 times per year, usually when I’m rushed and can’t find a better alternative.

So I picked up the food and started home. Less than one mile away, I saw a beautiful Golden Retriever and a Chihuahua out in the middle of a very busy road.  They definitely looked guilty and didn’t know what to do. Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, and my fear was that one of these mutts was going to get spooked, run in front of a car and lose its life. 

I pulled right up to the pair and opened my passenger side door. I offered them a taco and the Retriever sniffed at it and backed off. Never talk to strangers especially if they offer treats, he thought wisely. The Chihuahua apparently had no issues with it and jumped right in!

I love Chihuahuas. We had a rescue named Gracie and she was a delight—no barking, no biting, no scooting and a total lap dog.  She was patient and sweet and we had her for at least 5 years after adopting her at age 10. We also had a guest Chihuahua who would stay with us once in a while and she was the opposite of Gracie. When I met Choo Choo, the first thing he did was bit my nose, and it got worse from there.

Now back to the action. The Golden is panicking now and runs to the curb. I leave the Cheech in the vehicle and cross the street, and all of a sudden a truck comes flying around the corner. “Do you know these dogs?” I asked him. He answered affirmatively with a tone that was a combination of frustration and embarrassment.

“I’m constantly fixing my backyard fence, but these dogs keep finding ways to get out,” he said, followed by a litany of spicey words I can’t repeat.

I can totally relate. When I was a kid, we had a mutt named Maggie who was always an escape risk. My father reinforced all of the fences and gates in our back yard. He added chicken wire, looked for every little gap in the fence and patched it and even drove wooden stakes deep into the ground. But, it never worked and the dog got out all the time. Immediately after each escape, Maggie would go to the front door and wait patiently for someone to let her back in. The message was—"You can’t stop me from getting out!” It became a competition between man and dog, and the dog was winning.

So, back to the action--the dog’s owner has the Golden safely in his truck now--what was a relief. Then he looks at me and says“Where’s my Chihuahua?”

Oh no, I thought, the dog is in my car with all that Taco Bell!

By the time we got back to my vehicle, it was too late. The Chihuahua ate it all, including most of the wrappers too. The owner yelled at the dog, so he jumped into the backseat and looked very busted. There were lettuce and salsa all over my seats and believe it or not, cheese on the passenger side window!

The owner grabs the dog and then helps me to clean up the vehicle. He then gives me $20 to get more Taco Bell. I was happy to get the dogs back to their owner, although I really didn't do much, other than feed one of them. The last thing I saw was this fat little Chihuahua who didn't care--he got his and he was content. Priceless.

Ninety Years of Teaching, Learning and Leading

     My dad died on December 26 at the age of 90. Edmund L. Attanasio was known in Old Greenwich, CT and then later in La Canada, CA (where he resided for 50 years) as a great Little League baseball coach, mentor and father. Many of his former players still fondly talk about "Mr. A" and his championship teams, and that is why I am focusing on this aspect of his amazing life.
     After graduation from Columbia University and a stint in the Korean War, my dad got his Master's Degree from Michigan State; landed a job with Reader's Digest in the advertising department and worked there for more than 40 years. He eventually became the Ad Sales Manager for the publication when we moved to southern California and then worked for Sunset Magazine as an ad consultant during his semi-retirement years. He worked into his 70s and was also the President of the Los Angeles Ad Club.
     In the late 1960s, he was living a busy life with two rambunctious kids (to say the least), but he never lost his passion for baseball and teaching young men how to play the game right. He ran his teams like Vince Lombardi, but with a smile rather than a scowl. He coached all of his sons (Ed, John and Gino) and loved every minute of it.
     He treated it like a job. He studied to be a better coach during every offseason by reading books like The Science of Hitting by Ted Williams and The Winning Hitter: How to Play Championship Baseball by Charley Lau and integrating them into his drills.
     He continually drilled his teams teaching them the fundamentals of the game and you could tell because his teams knew how to bunt, sacrifice and take pitches deep into the count--and that's why they won year after year.
     Each season, my dad would invariably find some kid who was new to town with unfulfilled potential and turn him into an instant star. One teenager who played for my father threw the ball with a sidearm motion and his parents were scared that he would get hurt throwing the ball that way. But, my father took him to a local orthopedist and was told that throwing the baseball sidearm was natural for this young man. As a result, my dad's star pitcher struck out the rest of the league all season long, throwing a submarine ball.
     This overnight sensation reminded me of Mark Fidrych, Vida Blue or later Fernando Valenzuela. The following year the kid got drafted number one from some other team, but he wasn't able to emulate the 15 minutes of fame he achieved on my dad's team. But, by then, my dad already had another prospect to work with and mold into another champion.
     My father was a Yankee fan so we were initially Yankee fans too. I remember my first game. It was in 1967 at Yankee Stadium, the Bombers vs. the Twins, a Sunday doubleheader. The Yankees stunk horribly that season with a hobbling Mickey Mantle at the end of his career and flashy Joe Pepitone, with his ridiculously long hair (toupee) and swagger. I guess at the time he was going to be the next great Yankee star (laugh). We stayed after the game and hung out by the player’s parking lot to yell at them for autographs as they drove off in their Dodge Darts and Cadillacs.
     It became a ritual. First, we would go to the game and afterward to my grandmother's restaurant in the Bronx (149th St. and Southern Blvd.) for a meal of Pasta Carbonara, Eggplant Parmesan and Pasta e Fagioli with Escarole, and then it was back to suburbia in Old Greenwich, CT. (continued)

    

RIP Jim Bouton

I got to spend a few hours with Jim Bouton in 2006 at the annual SABR convention in Seattle, WA. There was a reunion of former Seattle Pilots players and he also spoke at the convention's dinner. I saw him sitting alone at breakfast one morning and asked him could I join him? I know it was a little invasive, but I loved Ball Four and wanted to talk to him about it.

It was a great conversation about certain parts of the book, as well as his second book ("I Hope You Didn't Take It Personally") and we covered a lot of topics, although most of them were not suitable for publication here. We talked about greenies, groupies, cake decorating., practical jokes, stealing signs, locker room banter, bench jockeying, the Yankees, the Pilots, and the Astros and the craziest players he ever knew.

When he was signed by the Yankees in 1962, many people thought Jim Bouton was a cinch to be a star pitcher, but he actually found greater fame as the author of “Ball Four,” an irreverent, best-selling book that angered baseball’s hierarchy and changed the way journalists and fans viewed the sports world, died July 10 at his home in Great Barrington, Mass. He was 80.

He had a stroke in 2012 and five years later disclosed he had been diagnosed with cerebral amyloid angiopathy, a condition that causes vessels in the brain to burst under pressure. The death was confirmed by his wife, Paula Kurman.

He won 21 games for the Yankees in 1963 and 18 the following season, helping lead his team to the World Series both years.

After an arm injury, he lost his fastball and was relegated to the minor leagues before trying to revive his career as a knuckleball pitcher.

Bouton had often regaled listeners with tales of his antics in baseball, and as he sought to make the roster of the 1969 Seattle Pilots, he decided to take notes.

“Ball Four” — the title was suggested by a woman who overheard Mr. Bouton talking about his project in a bar — was published in 1970, with the editorial help of sportswriter Leonard Shecter.
Jim Bouton in 1970, the year “Ball Four” was published.

It was in the form of a season-long diary and was modeled in part on “The Long Season,” a 1960 book by big-league pitcher Jim Brosnan. But no one had ever captured the humor, profanity and pathos of a major league clubhouse with the candor that Mr. Bouton did in “Ball Four.”
“When I made it to the Yankees,” he told the New York Times in 1983, “it was like walking in this wonderland, this crazy place . . . With ‘Ball Four,’ I never meant to make an investigation of a subculture. I just wanted to share the nonsense.”