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Articles by John Altamura
Holding Pattern
SYIC: Part 1: Survival — Chapter 26 Press enter or click to view image in full size Building sandcastles in the sky — that was what Jack was doing. The days melted together as he and Shannon grew closer. It was late August, and they had been talking for nearly four months. Shannon had spent much of the month in Cologne, Germany, covering World Youth Day. Soon, a decision would have to be made. They would have to meet. “Burton, things are great. I can’t complain.
Nights & Weekends
SYIC: Part 1: Survival — Chapter 25 Press enter or click to view image in full size Monday, May 9, 2005, Charlotte, North Carolina Limelight, The Camera Eye, and Moving Pictures. The Canadian band had it right: performance, witness, projection. For Shannon Brown, they were how she survived. When the lights dimmed and the red bulb on the Catholic Channel’s outdated camera clicked off, she slipped off the set, past the crew, into the small sanctuary behind the studio offices. A door slammed. A sigh.
Ancillary Benefits
SYIC: Part 1: Survival — Chapter 24 Press enter or click to view image in full size Nothing was ever what it seemed. That was Jack’s thought as he tore open his first paycheck envelope. It was early May 2005, and rain hammered the Farm Bureau windows. At $45,000 a year, the biweekly gross should have landed near $1,730. The base on the stub read $31,000. “Wait — something isn’t right here,” he said. Confused, Jack rose from his desk, walked the hall, and stepped into Kevin Daboll’s office.
Forty-Five Plus Mileage
Moments later, Jack was in his car and driving about. His windows were rolled down as the fresh country air filled up his car. "Happy birthday to me," Jack said, taking a drink from his Dunkin'. "Twenty-eight years old. Shit. I'm getting old." Jack slowed as he maneuvered around the Eaton Brook Reservoir and eased into a small boat launch access point. He parked and walked over to a small dock adjacent to the boat launch. He stood there for a few moments and said out loud to no one.
Keep
He sped south on Route 12, morning light lifting over the eastern ridge, the drizzle needling the windshield. "Motherfucker," he said. "They couldn't even tell me she was moving back. Two years - supposedly fine - they patched it up. Taj was gonna propose. Now she's back and talking to some British guy online. How long until that guy moves in? I know Anna-Lisa. She can't be the fuck alone." He took a sip of water. "Can't be alone. She doesn't know what it's like to be alone. In this hell.
Jean Shepherd's America
Jack entered the small room, bypassing the kneeler. Father Testoni sat there, legs crossed, staring into space. "Hey, Father Testoni," Jack said, extending his hand. "Jack, how are you? It's been...?" "Three years, at least," Jack said, lowering his head.
Stars and Stripes Forever
The hours slipped away as they explored Seaside Heights, holding hands, talking, and laughing. Around mid-afternoon, they headed further south to Long Beach Island. LBI, as the locals called it, was another popular shore destination, known for its quieter, more laid-back vibe. As they drove along the coast, Sarah held his hand, her fingers interlaced with his. The warmth of her touch felt comforting, a simple yet powerful connection that made the world feel right.
Big Red
SYIC: Part 1: Survival - Chapter 19 Press enter or click to view image in full size Friday, April 4, 2003 Lebanon, New York Songbirds chattered in a steady rhythm as first light slipped through the cracked shades. It was the day after: the restoration letter, the sports bar rejection by a woman who couldn't see past her ideas about class and what a man should provide. Jack rubbed his eyes and stared at the ceiling the way he had on so many mornings during his year in exile.
Heat Lightning
SYIC: Part 1: Survival - Chapter 18 Press enter or click to view image in full size Wednesday, June 6, 2001 "C'mon, Jack! We need a hit here!" Jack's coworker, Walt, shouted, his hands gripping the chain-link fence as he leaned forward intently. Jack stepped into the batter's box, settling into his stance as a gust of wind sent a swirl of dust across the field. The overhead lights cast a harsh glow, illuminating the diamond while tiny gnats and moths buzzed lazily in the beams above.
Restoration
Moments later they were heading north on Route 12 toward Lebanon. Jack stared out the window, the rolling countryside dimming in the waning light. A whole lot of nothingness. Dilapidated barns, long abandoned trailers, and homes that were so neglected that they should be condemned. Jack took it all in, silently as indie rock blared. They passed a sun-faded billboard: Bill Murray from Groundhog Day grinning beside a furnace unit, the clock from the movie, stuck at 5:59 AM.
The Carousel Keeps Turning
Jack and B.A. walked the tracks as a horn blew somewhere down the line. Jack, in a reflective vest and hard hat, paced B.A. as they worked the rail. The hills wore a fine coat of snow. Flurries fell through breaks in the sun. "I can't believe how easy that was," Jack said, shaking his head. "I figured it would take longer." B.A. chuckled. "That's office stuff. This is your office now." Jack looked at the open expanse: the Susquehanna half-frozen, the silence, the hills running to the edge of sight.
Half the Battle
SYIC: Part 1: Survival - Chapter 15 Press enter or click to view image in full size Jack knew plenty about the brutality of things. He had become a connoisseur of it: clocks, relationships, vices, money, and countless other matters. On that late January day, the weather and its unwavering cruelty joined the list. He knew all about upstate New York winters. He had spent years on the shores of Lake Ontario at Oswego State, a place where the sun rarely shone between Halloween and Memorial Day.
Hazard Lights
SYIC: Part 1: Survival - Chapter 14 Press enter or click to view image in full size It was a long December, and everyone believed that somehow, some way, the new year would be better than the last. Those thoughts were on the minds of Jack and Emily as they both tried to move forward without Sarah and without each other. It was Monday, December 31, 2001, early afternoon, one of those in-between days in New Jersey. Not too cold, not too warm.
Eyes Forward
SYIC: Part 1: Survival - Chapter 13 Press enter or click to view image in full size Exile means self-removal. An extrication from a life. A departure. An end. On that Saturday, outside his empty apartment, sky overcast, mood bleak, Jack reflected on what was, the end. He pulled the door closed and did not look back. He swung his knapsack over his shoulder and stared at his suitcase and lacrosse duffel at his feet.
Reflections in the Glass
He made it to the Garden just in time. Uncle Burt, in an oversized Mark Messier jersey and ringing a cowbell, pulled him into a hug. Burt gave him a once-over. “Soda and some food? Sabrett dogs, knishes — the good stuff?” They loaded up at concessions and climbed — escalators, stairs, more stairs — into the Blue Seats, the 400s high above the ice. For a while they just watched, letting the game carry them. The Rangers and Devils traded blows, each team pressing, neither giving way.
Complicated
You can only hold on so long. For weeks, Jack had been circling the drain. Denial gave way to anger, anger fed by alcohol. And then the revelation, that despite all her promises, her assertions, Tommy, with whatever allure he carried, had been strong enough to tarnish what Jack believed was unbreakable. Her choice, even if rooted in ambition, left him shattered in its wake. And now, the morning after the crash, Jack, Emily, and everyone else would have to live with that choice.
If You Could Only See
The video drew a small crowd as Morgan stood in front of the rear-projection big-screen, remote in hand. Jack stayed anchored to the kitchen island, trying to find anything to fix his eyes on. Jack, three beers in, walked to the refrigerator and switched back to Coke. He returned to his safe space by the island and tried to ignore the living room. “What a beautiful venue,” the older woman said, watching the Blue Ridge Mountains fill the screen. The wide shot held on the mountains and the club below.
Crossing the Midline
Press enter or click to view image in full size “Where the fuck am I?” he said. The stairs came into view — through the gloss, through the film on his contacts. Those stairs. Where he’d chased Sarah. A different time, a different moment, when there seemed to be plenty of it. But time was gone. The sun was up over the Atlantic, hard and fiery, as Jack tried to orient himself. He drew a breath.
Ships in the Night
Every relationship is temporal. The ticking clock. From the first moment of connection until the last breath in this reality, two people, their energies, are fused for a time. The first month of Jack and Sarah had been exactly that — two hearts beating in rhythm, fragile and certain all at once. The second-to-last Saturday in June was a balmy one, no different from most that summer. Jack began his day at Uncle Burt’s house on Staten Island.
The Person Who Keeps Calling
They inched to the front door. He fumbled the keys; they clattered to the concrete. Emily scooped them, tried each in the dim vestibule light until one clicked. Up the short hall to 1B. The lock turned. Warm air and wreckage. The pullout bed gaped open, comforter on the floor. The Epson lay in pieces. Sarah’s flyers were scattered like leaves. She took it in and lowered her head. “Jack, I need to take this,” she said, stepping into the kitchen. “Ugh, okay,” he muttered, and stumbled toward the bathroom.
Born to Run
Love often happens by accident. Unintended circumstances. Serendipitous encounters. All of those things. For Jack and Sarah, it came through something small, almost forgettable — a local race, the Hamilton YMCA Heatbuster 5K. A few miles on a spring morning that would change everything. Jack was twenty-four, restless, and still trying to figure out where his life was supposed to go. The race wasn’t about fitness or competition; it was about impulse, about doing something different.
Drivin’ in the Dark
She was gone. Truly gone. The realization struck harder than any lacrosse check Jack had ever taken in college. Harder than the crack of his father’s belt in childhood. The empty casket — the void, the hollow promise of a future without her — pulled him down into darkness. Into the foxhole. For two months he had lived in denial, wrapped in a false reality stitched together with hope and magical thinking. By day he buried himself in work.
Into the Foxhole
SYIC: Part 1: Survival — Chapter 3 Press enter or click to view image in full size Fall always precedes the winter. The darkness. The blight. The cold. And on that Saturday, winter came early. Jack sat motionless behind the wheel of his Eclipse, watching leaves scatter and swirl across the frozen pavement. He remained suspended — paralyzed — unable to move forward. From his inside suit pocket, he pulled out the peridot necklace.
United We Stand. Alone, He Fell
SYIC: Part 1: Survival — Chapter 2 Press enter or click to view image in full size Clocks. They keep spinning, spinning. They don’t yield to anything. They don’t give a fuck about your feelings. Your emotions. Your dreams. They just keep going. And the brutality of that truth is sometimes too much to bear. For Jack Almanti, for the Bryant family, and for so many others, September 11th left a void deeper than Ground Zero itself. Loved ones erased. Destinies altered.
All the Time in the World
SYIC: Part 1: Survival — Chapter 1 Press enter or click to view image in full size It started out just like any other day. The sharp, piercing tone of an alarm clock echoed through a small studio apartment in Central New Jersey as sunlight streamed through the blinds. Jack Almanti let out an audible groan as he reached for the snooze button. “Alright, alright,” he said, kicking off his worn college comforter.
The Toxic Avenger Part III: The Last Temptation of Toxie
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The Toxic Avenger Part II
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Wide Right, Exit Stage Left
Chapter 154: Month 2 | February 2014 It was 11:45 PM. New Year’s Eve. At the M&S offices. I was standing in the breezeway by the freight elevators, flanked by the painting crew. The crew Shane Plantier had hired for the office paint job. They were just about finished for the night. They weren’t from this country — likely illegal. They’d been working nonstop since 6:00 AM Monday morning. And somehow, they’d managed to knock out nearly 75% of the 84,000-square-foot office. A small New Year’s miracle.
106 Miles From S.F.O
Chapter 151: Year 7, Month 9 | September 2013 Five groomsmen. Six bridesmaids. One narcissistic injury. I stood — alone. Among strangers. Some I knew. Most I didn’t. It was Chet and Paulina’s wedding day. And it had been an interesting 48 hours. The second Saturday in September. Five minutes to 3:00 PM, Pacific Daylight Time. The sun still high over the Pacific. The view — breathtaking. The winds — calm. The mood — anticipatory. And me? Still standing. Tired. Worn out.
Whatever the Cost
Chapter 149: Year 7, Month 8 | August 2013 I’m strangely fine. Upset, yes. Angry, sure. But I’m glad it’s over. Kathy was never Sarah. She was just an echo. And now, it’s time to move on. I took one last glance up at Kathy’s Kingsbury tower. Shook my head. Then disappeared into the night. “I really have no clue where I’m going to sleep tonight,” I said, glancing down at my iPhone. 12:22 AM. “Does it really matter? Because in the end, the clock is brutal. It always moves forward — whether we’re ready or not.
Do You Believe in Miracles?
Chapter 147: Year 7, Month 5 | May 2013 Why do you drive everywhere? People have asked me that question from time to time. I’m really not a fan of flying. Never have been, and probably never will be. And it’s not exactly for the reasons you’d expect. Sure, 9/11 is part of it. Losing Sarah that day has forever complicated my relationship with air travel. There are just emotions there. Heavy ones.
Thirty-Six
Chapter 146: Year 7, Month 4 | April 2013 Another year around the sun. Another year in Chicago. Another year without her. I stared at my reflection in the scratched glass of the Brown Line as it approached the Merchandise Mart. The train groaned, tires shrieking as it navigated the hard curves in that mile-long approach to my workplace. In the distance, blurred by the warped reflection in the glass, I caught sight of her high-rise on Kingsbury. So close, yet impossibly far. A reminder of time.
The Gospel According to DePaul
Chapter 144: Year 7, Month 2 | February 2013 Salvation. There are many definitions. The common, non-religious one is the act of being saved from danger, loss, or harm. Or, if you really wanted to get preachy and go with the theological version, it’s the act by which an individual — steeped in the Christian belief — is delivered from sin and its consequences. Regardless of how you defined it, I was still wrestling with its meaning — and how it applied to my current situation. It was Thursday.
Facebook Official
John Altamura · Follow 46 min read · -- Chapter 140: Year 7, Month 1 | January 2013 I stood at the bar, in a zoned-out state, staring at the staircase beyond the taps — beyond my coworkers, who were in the midst of downing a flight of Jäger bombs. I was at Rock Bottom Brewery in River North. A place that held some history for me. In another time, another life, I had started something with Marisa. Up those stairs. Up to the rooftop bar. A night that was perfect. Where everything just clicked.
Excess Baggage
John Altamura · Follow 22 min read · -- Chapter 138: Year 6, Month 11 | November 2012 Heavy clouds. I was surrounded by them. Both physically and metaphorically. As my Southwest flight descended through the darkness toward the runway threshold at Buffalo Niagara International Airport, my mind churned. So many thing were on my mind. Things like. My life in Chicago. My job. Kathy. Sarah. And everything in between. The plane bobbed and dipped, its landing lights slicing through lazy snow squalls.
Time After Time
John Altamura · Follow 14 min read · -- Chapter 137: Year 6, Month 11 | November 2012 I thought I would be happy. I thought I would be at ease. But I was neither. I was… apprehensive. For some reason. And I didn’t know why. It had finally happened. Kathy and I — we became one. Connected. In the most intimate sense. What had once been something metaphysical — a dance stretching across nearly five years — had reached its climax. A physical union. And it was everything I had imagined. And then some.
Wavelengths
John Altamura · Follow 24 min read · -- Chapter 135: Year 6, Month 10 | October 2012 Wavelengths What is seen. What is not seen. The last twenty-four hours had been an emotional journey — a test not just of endurance, literally, but of spirit. Seeing Kathy during the marathon, in such a serendipitous way, was jarring enough. But two words she uttered — Mr. Lacrosse — one of those deeply personal things, something Sarah had coined and used with affection — hit me harder than I expected.
Ripples Through Time
John Altamura · Follow 16 min read · -- Chapter 132: Year 6, Month 9 | September 2012 Some ghosts don’t haunt you. They live quietly inside you. I couldn’t sleep. I felt unsettled. It was 5:00 AM — another Chicago summer Saturday. The first hints of daybreak slipped through my blinds as the old wall-unit air conditioner hummed softly in the background. My mind was still swirling with thoughts from the night before. The singles mixer at the Shedd Aquarium had been… eye-opening.
Through Sickness and Health
John Altamura · Follow 36 min read · -- Chapter 129: Year 6, Month 7 | July 2012 Another wedding. Another celebration. Another reminder. I stood in the dimly lit church bathroom, staring at the weathered mirror, trying to keep myself together. I was at Saint Francis deSales Church — an ornate red-brick Catholic church in Geneva, New York, perched on the shores of Seneca Lake.
The Ties That Bind
John Altamura · Follow 25 min read · -- Chapter 127: Year 6, Month 5 | May 2012 Another summer. Another season. Another transition. The start of my sixth calendar year in Chicago would be marked by the arrival of familiarity. A cool breeze drifted down Waveland as I stood outside my apartment, waiting patiently for an old friend — Big Red. I hadn’t seen the old girl in about six months — not since I left her behind in Upstate New York.
One Step Closer
John Altamura · Follow 16 min read · -- Chapter 126: Year 6, Month 5 | May 2012 Five Years in Chicago That’s how long I’ve been away from Upstate, New York. Half a decade. It seems like just yesterday I packed up my old car, Big Red, and drove through the night into the unknown. Back then, I was searching for something — anything — to pull myself out of the depths of depression. It was a Hail Mary, a last-ditch attempt to escape the confines of my old bedroom in my parents’ house.
Love, Fate, and a Night at The Drake
John Altamura · Follow 21 min read · -- Chapter 125: Year 6, Month 3 | March 2012 I was seething. Standing there, exhausted, annoyed, and wanting to be anywhere but here. It was the Monday afternoon after St. Patrick’s Day weekend. I had spent my entire Saturday moving the entire office — by myself. And now, as I stood off to the side, Diane was busy showering Jen and the admin team with praise. A job well done? They didn’t fucking show up. But none of that mattered.
80 Degrees on St. Patty’s Day
John Altamura · Follow 14 min read · -- Chapter 124: Year 6, Month 3 | March 2012 Office politics. It was something I had grown accustomed to during my time with M&S. A little over a year had passed since I took the blind leap into the world of advertising. Somehow, through all the dysfunction, I had managed to carve out my own niche and survive — navigating difficult personalities and a disjointed power structure. Technically, I was my own boss.
Eli, Evelyn & A Wedding Invitation
John Altamura · Follow 11 min read · -- Chapter 123: Year 6, Month 2 | February 2012 Eight or so weeks. The stretch from New Year’s Day to March 1st. Roughly, the time between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. This early segment of the calendar year goes by many names. For some, it’s a transitional period — winter slowly yielding to spring. The ancient Romans saw it as a time of renewal, with March marking the start of a new cycle. It’s also when a certain furry rodent takes center stage.
Lake Effect
John Altamura · Follow 21 min read · -- Chapter 122: Year 6, Month 1 | January 2012 Letting go. It’s a part of life. It’s a necessary step in the grieving process. As the calendar inched closer to 2012, I found myself consumed by the idea of letting go — shedding the things that were holding me back, even those that had once brought me comfort. It was time to say goodbye to Big Red.
Wake Me Up When September Ends
John Altamura · Follow 15 min read · -- Chapter 121: Year 5, Month 12 | December 2011 I had no one to blame but myself. I was careless, inappropriate, reckless. I lost my frame, lost control, and crashed and burned — in spectacular fashion. That’s life, unfortunately. And now, on this cold, dreary Sunday morning in early December, I was facing the prospect of another abandonment, another loss. But this time, it was entirely my fault. Morning arrived, as it always does, dragging a hangover with it.
Ugly Sweaters & Drunken Regrets
John Altamura · Follow 23 min read · -- Chapter 120: Year 5, Month 12 | December 2011 I really didn’t want to talk to her. I mean, she had the nerve to question my management style. And it wasn’t just that she questioned my leadership capabilities, she went out of her way to voice her opinion to Diane. Jen was on my shit list, and I needed to have that discussion with her. I sat at my cubicle, waiting patiently for her to return to her office. I was pissed. Somehow, I had to keep myself composed.
The Winds of Change
John Altamura · Follow 16 min read · -- Chapter 119: Year 5, Month 11 | November 2011 I was in a contemplative mood. It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, and change was in the air. A bitter wind swept down Southport as I made my way toward the Southport El station.
Everything and Nothing at Once
John Altamura · Follow 18 min read · -- Chapter 118: Year 5, Month 11 | November 2011 We didn’t say a word to each other, but I knew all too well what she was going through. I had just completed another 26.2 miles, but my mind was far from my own achievement. I was still fuming at the race marshal who had tried to remove Ashley forcefully from the finish line area.
The Climb
John Altamura · Follow 24 min read · -- Chapter 117: Year 5, Month 10 | October 2011 The whole experience was surreal. This house, that lake, the gazebo, the old man. And that journal. Lying here in this unfamiliar bed, in this unfamiliar house — a good hundred yards away from where Sarah and I fell in love — it was all too much. It had to be sometime in the middle of the night, maybe 2:00 AM. Sleep eluded me.
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