Monday, June 2, 2008


I once said of my wife: I have so much faith in her that I would believe anything she told me--with one exception...if she told me that she was abducted by aliens...that would be something I would need to see for myself.

The issue of whether we are alone in the universe is open to a wide range of speculation. And because I am neither intensely ethereal nor scientific, I simply take this stance: Yes I believe we are not alone BUT I also feel that whatever IS out there, hasn't been seen by us, their "civilization" is not as advanced as ours... and therefore, they're not a threat to our planet.

Our course as stubborn as I seem...under the right circumstances, like seeing something other-worldly myself, I might change my stance.

A few years back, we here at Casa Edelblum experienced a period of economic uncertainty. In taking a pro-active approach (I did something before the crap hit the fan), I took on a secondary casino position. Unfortunately, the amount of hours I was getting at the extra job wasn't enough to cover our impending financial collapse.

The remedy became a third job, doing landscaping. The arrangement with this gardener, regarding the regularity of my schedule never "blossomed" into what we had agreed on (he lied to me) so while doing all three...I got a fourth job with a survey company.

Surveying allowed me to work at home. It was easy. I made follow-up calls...usually regarding customer courtesy/service from utility companies. The tedium was so mind-boggling...that as easy as it may have been...I resigned after a short time.

It was at this time that I mentioned my plight to my friend, Gary. He said that he needed a substitute to deliver his newspaper route (The Atlantic City Press) after swing-shift, 4:AM. I could work once a week for $30.00 CASH, plus a few extra days here and there and during his vaction.
Gary said once you get into the routine, the job only took an hour, its easy and you're in your own car. He said, "I like to pop in a couple of CD's and the next thing you know, you're done." It sounded do-able.

To see if I liked the operation, one time I rode "shotgun" while he did his route. He got out of work an hour earlier than me so he had already gone to the loading dock and put the papers into their little plastic bags.
When I got into his car, Gary and I laughed the whole time...that part was a lot of fun...BUT.

I never lost sight of the fact that, Gary wouldn't be there to clown around with me. Plus, even though it was August, riding around the boondocks of Galloway at 4:30AM, with the windows down (to throw the papers out), was freezing and I indeed caught a cold...I couldn't imagine doing this after the in the winter.

We were in the car an hour when Gary mentioned that sometimes, there's a long wait to pick-up the papers. That thought stung like a hornet. Then my enthusiasm for the job began losing its luster in the same proportion as my yawns became more frequent.

The back seat still had a ton more papers as Gary turned onto an unlit, unpaved rural road.
We were bumping and bucking up a long rocky driveway when he said, "It can be murder out here when the streets freeze-up." I was making a face when he added, "A bunch of times, I almost hit a deer."
I then asked, "How long does it take to put all those papers in the baggies?"
"Oh," he said, "I do it while I drive."
I did a double-take and he added, "In the beginning, I wouldn't recommend you doing that. So it might add an extra twenty minutes...of course the Sunday papers would take a lot longer because you have to put all the sections together yourself."

I was fried after 90 minutes and we still weren't done. This was a minimum of a two-hour ordeal after doing casino work and the money wasn't worth it. We were having so much fun that I didn't have the heart to tell him that I wasn't interested. Plus, I was feeling sick and struggling to keep my eyes open.

When we were done, I still had to get my car at Gary's house. We were on Jimmie Leeds Road and turned south onto Eighth Avenue. That's where the new Shop-Rite is...back then, it was the vacant wooded lot where the D'Lerio flea market was.
It was after dawn and the sunless sky had begun to brightened. Suddenly through the trees, I thought I was hallucinating...I saw as clear as could be...until the trees blocked my view...a UFO. Now trust me, I know how tired and disgusted I be certain I wasn't hallucinating, I wanted a second look before I proclaimed an advanced alien presence in the neighborhood.

But Gary beat me to it and said, "Its a bleeping UFO!"

And it was. As unearthly as any flying object I ever saw, it resembled a jack (the kids game jacks). A pronged craft with blinking iridescent lights on the ends of its spiky arms. It was gliding about as high as the banner planes that fly over the beach. And I'm telling you-- against the middle shade of blue sky, it was as clear as could be until the trees got in our way again.
This was the pre-cell phone-era so Gary slammed on the brakes, craned his head for a better look and said, "We're probably the only ones seeing it at this hour. We got to call someone and alert everyone."
Here I was with all the proof I needed that extra-terrestrials do exist and I said, "Gary, don't stop. Please, before you save the world from the invasion, drop me off..."

Two day's later in the A. C. Press, there was a little item on the sixth page that mentioned Russian space junk flying over Galloway. The government cover-up people around here screamed conspiracy...and for those of us who saw was a close call but...I wasn't beamed-up and Gary...who was more convinced than me, went straight to bed too. And because I knew my wife wouldn't believe me unless she saw it, I didn't tell her the story until I saw the article.

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