Piping Rock, Pop 

One of the kids I grew up with figured out how to break into the electrical box that controlled the lights at the ballfield. It was at the Piping Rock field one day in the early 70s. This happened while we were hitting pop-flys. It was dusk and time to go home, but controlling the lights was just too much power not to try. So we turned them off to see what dark looked like. Unfortunately, we did this as one of my friends was settling in under a long, fly ball. The lights went out, and the ball hit him in the face. It was terrible, but we laughed anyway. We were young and stupid and proving it every day. He didn’t look too good for a couple of weeks, and we had to own up for it. We were reminded that we could have blinded him through fits of screaming and yelling by our parents.


The gang of kids on my street were always in trouble, I was a part of the mayhem most of the time but liked to remain a little distant. The fear of getting the shit beat out of me by my father just too influential. We wanted to reach the point just under where the cops would get involved; that was our sweet spot. As budding teenagers, we would make it to the real Rumson police station on Center Street in a few years.  Almost blinding one of our own on this day was good enough for us.


I am avoiding many names here as everyone involved is possibly reading this, and I don’t want to create trouble for them with their wives and kids. After all these years, still protecting our own is ok with me. I suck for a lot of reasons, this is one of them. Do you think I would have all of these stories to tell if I wasn’t trusted enough to be there when trouble arrived? No way! Being an outsider and an insider at the same time is what I was good at. In a few years, when we were referred to as the Wolfpack in Rumson, I would be glad I was a little more distant.


Update on farberisms. I have had so much fun doing this for the past couple of months. As a retired, cancer, free, impotent, orphan, I needed something to do with my time, it has been great. The genesis of my writing has always been around career and cancer so this has been a welcome change. I will keep it going but start to shift back to these themes a little. I have a lot to say and a place to do it, I hope you’ve enjoyed the couple of minutes we spend together daily. Seeing all the familiar names brings back a lot of good times and the desire to have more.


My following on social is mostly on Linkedin and Twitter, but this experience has been for Facebook friends dealing with seclusion. My site is running well, and we are turning our efforts towards Junk In The Trunk, which will be an online store to sell stuff and support charity. My site, farberisms. will support it. I spoke to a trademark attorney yesterday who asked me what farberisms. is about. After 10 minutes, I was done explaining what I write about and no further along with the definition, just where I want it.


Peace, chris

Wiseman’s Sea Bright

This iconic store was in the middle of Sea Bright when I was a kid. It was a toy store, confectionery, and newsstand. One of those “you can find it at” places right in the center of town across from the public beach parking lot and a little to the right. I think it was owned by two brothers but was always a stop when we were in town. You could buy a bus ticket, milkshake or a dirty magazine when it was open. Everyone knew it; not everyone went in because of the mags, which weren’t very public when I was a kid. Still, it was a town staple.

A friend of mine raves about Wiseman’s egg creme. He hasn’t had one in almost 50 years but can describe it so well you can taste it. You feel like you’re sitting on a spin stool at the counter and drinking it in along with everything else from soo long ago.

And that’s the quality of small-town stores, people, products and experiences. Sea Bright had and has that quality. So does Grafton, VT, for me. Think about those small towns and what brought you to them and soon you will miss them more than ever.

Peace, chris

Don’s Ride on the Magic Bus

Why would you recommend taking a drug out of nowhere? The question here is what are you trying to fight or avoid. We have a right to know if our leaders are sick and what they might be suffering. In my executive days, I was provided a complete physical from Mass General by State Street. They wanted to know if I was healthy. They also had a life insurance policy on me in case I wasn’t going to make it. As a senior guy at the bank, they wanted assurances that they were paying for was going to be around, and compensation if it wasn’t. I gladly bent over for the good doc to finger out if anything was wrong. I was ok with both.


It would only be a couple of years after I left the bank that I learned I had cancer. I was working at Scivantage trying to fix problems even hydroxychloroquine couldn’t make a dent in. In business, you can’t fix stupid or borderline criminal, and SVI had both. Looking back, I believe it is where I got the toxins that would cause my cancer, but that’s another story.


Don’t worry, nothing is going to happen is like believing you can lose your virginity twice. Taking drugs to see what might happen is stupid—kind of like letting someone else provide the most critical numbers on your tax return. Go figure.


Peace, chris

Mansion on the Hill

There are still remnants of my dads’ family floating around Sea Bright and my moms’ frayed family in a more magnificent Long Branch. But there are no more Farber’s in Rumson.


The new dawn in my family starts in Tinton Falls. (The earth trembling just now was my mother and father rolling over underground at the cemetery in Middletown). My parents thought Rumson was a step up from Sea Bright. They also thought Tinton Falls was a step down from Rumson. My sister-who is buried next to my parents – didn’t care. She said, ”Live wherever you want. Who gives a shit?” It’s funny how that came from the one who lived in a big home on the Navesink after a stint abroad.


Understanding what is essential takes some living, which is hardly an original or new way of thinking. Where you live only makes a difference to the collective bunch who think where you live is essential. As we age, we often widen our perspective on life. One of the things that does is allow you to justify how a life’s worth of decisions and actions come together, kind of like a plan. The result is being able to reconcile what we did wasn’t random.


Living where you are isn’t important. What goes on in what you live in is.


Peace, chris



What if Dr. Fauci didnt care?

At an age when people are fighting off cancer, stroke, or Alzheimer’s, what makes a man work at the level of the good doctor? He is a humanist, which means he believes we are in this alone as humans, no god is going to fend off the virus and save us. He has a concern for humans only, that’s what keeps him going after 79 years.
It’s funny to me that at a time when the silver tsunami of older people who want to work but can’t because of age discrimination, are supplanted by really old people who can. Why? Because we are f’d on this, one way or another.
If this whole thing is a master plan by the Illuminati to wipe out much of humanity so they can keep what’s left for themselves, that’s bad. And if it is as headlined, ”The worst pandemic since the last depression after the last pandemic,” that’s really bad.
Why else would such a distinguished gentleman expose himself every day to the media with a mask only a mother could love? I wonder what he might be mumbling to himself under it as the Don tells us everything is good, or great, or sucks, and just might be ok.
Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s like looking for birth control in the supermarket. You can get it there, but it’s not why you go. And who do you ask if you have a question? Remember where you are. Are you hungry or horny?
Dr. Fauci is a savior and national treasure who is dealing with a human problem with facts and figures. Its what his education taught him and what he believes. He has advised every President since Reagan for a reason. I am following him on this one. Wear the mask.
Peace, chris