I Love my Honda Dealer

I am generally loathe to endorse products or services. However, I can easily recognize when I should make exceptions. Two are my beloved Dunkin Donuts which I utilize daily for coffee, and my favorite breakfast place, Broad Street Diner, where they know me well. Hamilton Honda has a ways to go before they know me well, but they're getting there.

With three Honda's to take care of -- my 2008 Civic, Janet's 2008 CR-V, and Kate's 2003 CR-V -- I have a lot to care for, as does Honda. It took Janet and I a long time to find the most reliable cars. We have operated or owned twenty cars between us since 1968. A Rambler, VW Wagon and VW Bus, two Pontiac's, two Chevy's (including a Chevette), two Toyota's, a Saturn, a Nissan, a Buick LeBaron, to name most. That's not counting the additional cars we bought for Jesse and Kate. There's a blessing right there -- being able to afford a car -- any car.

I have two old favorites: the 1957 Chevy Bel Air I first learned to drive when I was sixteen, and my gold 1965 Chevy Impala with Mag wheels, four-on-the-floor, and black leather interior. Not to mention the 327 HP under the hood. Being stupid, I sold it rather than pay for an $80 clutch, after failing miserably to replace it myself. All that still doesn't mean we know anything about cars. Heck, me and a friend, Mike Reilly, even replaced an engine in my 1963 Chevy Nova, and I regularly changed alternators in the old VW Bus. Oil changes were a snap. I changed out the carburator on my '65 Chevy as well. Those were the good old days when you could work on your car yourself.

These days you can't. Okay, if you want to do oil filters and oil changes yourself, you still can, if you have the patience and blocks. I still have my 1971 oil pan to collect the drained oil. But I don't even do that anymore. Not when it only costs $20 at a garage ($32 at a dealer). At Hamilton Honda, we get free oil changes for life on both 2008's, so you really can't beat that. Offering free oil changes when purchasing a car was a great dealer tactic for a while, but some are now reneging. Actually, free oil changes is the best way to get a customer to return to the shop that there is, and then the dealer merely up-sells the customer for big profits.

I just took the CR-V to the Express this morning. Thirteen point inspection, and a fantastic waiting area, make going to Hamilton Honda actually pleasant. Sometimes I just stop in for the free coffee - after all, I am a regular customer! 

When service is needed - I check first if its over $75. Like Kate's 2003 CR-V at Willis some months ago, whom we used prior to Hamilton Honda. I check two ways: first on the Internet to find comments about the problem, and second, physically. I walk in the garage, they raise the car on the lift, and I look at the bushings (I always look). I had the car in a week before for a minor recall, and they pointed out the worn tie rod and other bushings then, which were split open. This allows water to enter and rust the area. Not good. I did NOT get the service done then. I made an appointment on my Honda Link for a week later after checking what the Internet said about it.

Since they opened I love waiting at Hamilton Honda for repairs to be made. Did I mention the freebies like coffee, TV and Internet? They also have a full deli, with delicious bagels among other things. I get the Everything bagel toasted with butter. Yum! Tables to sit at and write, or to read the free USA Today. Once in a while I take it home to show Janet an article or two. Comfortable chairs and two large screen TVs (they should leave the remote out though). Jesse Armstead, an owner, really did a great job designing and setting up this dealership. Even our double buying experiences weren't too bad. (More on that later)

Also, of course, all the staff are capable and friendly. Like I said, I just went to Express for a free oil change. While dropping it off before going to the main lounge, the clerk offered me a coupon for $20 off a filter the car needed. Offered! I didn't know there was a special, so that was extra considerate. That kind of service can't be bought. Therefore, the extra I pay for (parts and labor), I really don't mind. I'm paying for the convenience and I understand that.

However, I never lose sight of paying extra for their service and convenience. The filter was $79, about $30 more expensive than it should have been, in my estimation. After all, the filter is only paper and plastic, and they must make millions. But, changing out dirty filters is a must. Honda's smart, all their cars have a five year design life, so the parts are good for some time sitting in inventory. But again, there's that convenience...it didn't have to be ordered -- it was right there. As most businessmen know, inventory is killer -- it kills profits. So, alright, I pay extra for that. But not $30!

On the flip side, other service charges seem reasonable to me. Like the $389.98 timing belt replacement special they seem to always offer. That's a bargain, in my opinion. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get that done? Given the small engine area space, special tools etc. I couldn't do that. And it needs to be done every 100,000 miles, which we have done like clockwork. Doing it has helped our cars last longer and avoided unnecessary, common, breakdowns.

They also take customer satisfaction seriously. Once, while waiting almost three hours, I got a little ticked off. So when I filled out their online service survey later, it was negative in that regard. Lo and behold I got a call from Don, the rep who took my order, apologizing and asking for a better rating. I would have done so, if I had been able to do it online, but I couldn't find out how, so it still stands. But poor service is rare from them, as well as long waits; normally they're outstanding. And, They did offer me shuttle service to our home two miles away, which I have used before.

This is not to say our Honda's need excessive service -- they don't. But the 2003 CR-V with over 130,000 miles sorta did. The rest was mainly maintenance. After all, it is ten years old . . . .

So, Hamilton Honda is a great place to hangout. Maybe I'll see you there?

Starting to Write Memoir - Part two

About writing memoir, in general:

That’s where the “art” in “S-T-A-R-T” comes in. Like I said, writing my autobiography from scratch was easy. Making it art, or good memoir, is difficult. Just as Stephen King has said, reading your genre is key to good writing. At the top of my list is On Writing, King’s own memoir, then comes The Memoir Project and so many others. King says dialogue attribution is very important, and adding dialogue is critical to good memoir. But, like most visual learners, I have a terrible memory when it comes to the exact words spoken. Whereas Tony can rattle off pages of dialogue, I remember only snippets. Just enough to make it real and believable, and, that’s all that’s needed. Style is another aspect of good writing, and again Stephen hits the nail on the head when he cites The Elements of Style (1918) by William Strunk, Jr. and E.B. White. I quote Stephen, “There is little or no detectable bullshit in that book,” and, it’s only 85 pages long. However, the most important thing for any writer, is his or her own “voice.”

I found my voice on January 14, 2012, at the 19^th Annual Winter Poetry & Prose Getaway. It was in the Advanced Memoir class. I wrote three short paragraphs about my stay in an orphanage, because of a family tragedy in 1954. The family was devastated, and became scattered. 21 rewrites and months later I had a three page, very compelling story. One that resulted in stunned silence when read aloud at the Green Acre Baha'i School Writer's Workshop. For the first time, I had found my own voice as a writer. Finding mine has made my writing only that much easier. Now I help others find theirs, and pay close attention when I hear others share their voice. Reading other memoirs and listening to others, helps develop mine more clearly. It also helps me project louder and more confidently.

The hard part of writing memoir, of course, is writing about oneself. I am the “star” of my own writing, again from the word “START,” as in starting one’s memoir. It can be tough writing about oneself. Especially, if they’re heart wrenching experiences.  The sensitive personalities and feelings of every reader showed forth recently, and astounded our public audience. Our class leader Maria  organized and hosted our first public readings at the Lawrence Library in August. (1) I and others were moved by Marion’s “Please Let Me Die,” Robert’s “End Games,” and Carmella’s “Gift from God.” A few of us contributed some light pieces as well. We have to do this more than once a year!

Memoir isn’t really persuasive writing. After all, I’m not really hoping to change your opinion, or get you to buy something when I tell my story. Unless its Dunkin coffee or my book, of course! Memoir isn’t business or technical writing, far from it. Technical writing is boring, but that’s my background. So I must always incorporate facts and new information into my writing. For example, did you know that only 2% of writers even publish? That’s still over 325,000 books a year in the U.S.! But I’m slowly learning how to write better, and now I really like it, without holding back. That’s another tough but necessary part – not holding back. Yet my fellow memoir classmates inspire and continue to surprise me with their honesty. I can do no less. 

 (Note 1) Sadly, Maria passed to the next world suddenly and shockingly on November 16, 2012, the result of an auto accident. She will be sorely missed. Our 20+ writers hope to continue classes.

Starting to Write My Memoir -- Part one

I didn’t know where to start writing my autobiography. Started is a loaded word.  Where does any writer start? I am not yet a writer, so knowing no different, I started at the beginning. Boring, I know, but being born in our nation’s Capital, to me, is a big bonus. I love Washington and the Mall, and all those magnificent public buildings. I love to visit there, the last time being three summers ago with wife Janet and friends. We went to the NEWSEUM on Pennsylvania Avenue, the newest museum at the time. What an inspiration to see a section of the Berlin Wall! My birth in Doctor's Hospital was as good a place as any to start with, followed by: jail time, true love, opium dens, a family tragedy, spiritual birth, excellent career, a long marriage, and two great kids, all interspersed with mental disorders and hospitalizations. 

I'm serious about everyone writing memoir. My favorite style is first person narration with a little tongue in cheek, chronological, with just a little reflection thrown in. Most of my reflection comes at the end of my long stories in an epilogue. I call this style of writing Summary Memoir because it spans a period of time, maybe even years.

Actually, I had retired in 2009 from 39 years with State Government, and was at loose ends. One day my wife Janet said “Rod, you’re just sitting around the house or putzin’ around. Why don’t you write your memoir and do something?” It took a few weeks to start that first blank page, but once started, I wasn’t done for a year and a half! It was so easy to just write down what I remembered! I didn’t worry if I forgot a street name, person’s name or date, for example. I just used some dashes to mark the empty space. During this process I did one very important thing: I joined the Memoir Writing Class at the Mercer County Library, in Lawrenceville New Jersey.

Listening to others read their short, poignant pieces, opened my eyes to clear, honest, compelling writing. The mantra of the class was “Show, don’t tell,” even though I’ve since learned that it’s really “Show AND Tell,” just like kindergarten. Maria Okros was a terrific facilitator, and her enthusiasm and positive energy was contagious.  We believe in gentle, but honest, critique. Simply, how can the piece be improved? No grammar corrections for us, like some memoir groups I know. All that needs to come later, when publishing – not while writing early drafts. That’s when I learned the difference between autobiography and memoir. (Note 1)

Starting a memoir is a whole lot easier than an autobiography. Memoir is more like a string of short stories rather than one long treatise. Sharing what you’ve written can be difficult, and was for me – at times. But it got easier the more I wrote, and shared aloud. Sharing is essential if you want to be a good writer. Four days ago I had a hard time getting through a piece, almost sobbing and unable to finish. 

Stephen King in his book On Writing says every writer needs an Ideal Reader – someone they trust to read the piece with an open mind, with honest feedback. Yet someone trusted enough so you won’t be offended by their opinions. That’s how I feel about our Tuesday Memoir Group.  And my Thursday Group, and my Sunday and Monday Groups. I'm hearing many wonderful, poignant and compelling stories and I love it.

On a personal level, Janet and son Jesse are my Ideal Readers. When they finished my 350-page autobiography, A Blessed Life in America, they both told me it was the most boring thing they’d ever read! I knew I had a lot of work to do, but their reviews, and those of my memoir group friends, only encouraged me. Because they all told me how many good stories I had, if I could just make them more interesting! That’s what Memoir Classes do – help writers to rewrite. Every week I facilitate a memoir class on Mondays at our public library, and go to two or three others during the week as well. It’s nice being retired! And I do want to publish an interesting book(s), despite myself.

To be continued in Part two.

The Hard Truth -- rewrite

This may give you a kick. It's a rewrite making the same basic piece (see Parts one and two) more interesting to the reader (I hope). This is what I've been learning to do, gradually, for years, as a fledgling memoir writer. Let me know what you think.

"What the eff is wrong with you? Are you effing nuts? Why can't you do this?" Everyone in the office could hear me. I was screaming at my staff member Carl. It didn't matter that he had refused to do the task I assigned, because he said he had too much work already. My blowup was totally inappropriate, and when I was later disciplined and lost my management position, I knew I deserved it. It wasn't the first time I had screamed at my staff. It was 2008.

I had been doing this for years, and it's a testimony to my excellent staff that they took it in stride, knowing that I really didn't mean it. I was of course being a perfectionist each time, or micromanaging. I thought I had control, and when I didn't, I lost it. I crossed a tipping point that day with Carl, and let it out. It happened at least two or three times a year with the same or different people.

Oh, later or the next day I'd take them aside and say "I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me. You're doing fine, you know it's just how I am. I won't let it happen again." But it did. I needed a wake-up call and got one.

I got a notice to report one morning to a counselor at the State's Employee Advisory Service. Carl, rightfully, had filed a complaint with management. I was surprised, but resigned to change. She was very nice. I met her in her office on the first floor of the Training Center on Woolverton Ave. in Trenton, just 6 blocks from where I worked. I had been there often, albeit on the second and third floors, for IT or management training. Obviously my previous Core Leadership training had been totally forgotten.

"So what's going on? Why did this happen? You know why you're here don't you?"

"Yes," I said demurely. Thinking Am I going to get fired? Will this hurt my pension -- my unblemished record?

"We have to talk about anger management," she said, and we did, for half an hour. I felt contrite. I was at a loss for words. I vowed, "I won't let this happen again."

"Good, because if it does there would be serious consequences you know."

"I know -- I promise," and kept that promise -- at work.

We had two more follow-up sessions. I knew I had to change.

Unfortunately, it did not work all the time with my poor wife Janet who was hurt regularly with my outbursts. I apologize to her later as well. It's not fun together until she gets over it in a few days. But, I always recognize what I've done and am extra solicitous afterwards - it helps me and her. My screaming outbursts have gotten rarer at home.

I kept my job with the State, but not my management position over the Statewide Contract Consolidation Unit. I was still Energy Office manager though. Now I had one staff person instead of four.

I could blame all this on my condition -- bipolar -- but I don't. It lies squarely with me, Rodney -- not my sometimes psychotic personality. Very fortunately, I'm very blessed to be with Janet, even after 42 years. We should all be so blessed. But really, it's about control. As long as I hold to the Truth that I have none over life or others, I'm half-way decent.

By the way, Tipping Point is an excellent book by Malcolm Gladwell.

The Hard Truth -- Part two of two

For example, in April 1996, I woke my best friend Bob up at 5 am to simply tell him where I was. I had left work at 1 pm the day before and had driven directly to Newark Airport, under an extremely strong compulsion to go to Holy Land. As soon as I said “Hi,” on the phone, Bob asked “Where the heck are you? No one’s heard from you and we’ve been searching everywhere!” I had to tell him “I’m in London, at the Guardian’s grave,” which, you can imagine, invoked a very shocked reaction. Being in an altered mental state, I didn’t have the courage to tell my Janet what I’d done, so I had called Bob instead. Needless to say, I can definitely be impulsive. And that was only one of four of my manic episodes, which worried Janet to death, and landed me in mental hospitals for weeks at a time. But that’s another story.

I know I can also be a perfectionist in my work and play, and have consciously made efforts to ease that impulse and go with the flow and not worry about things so much. Writing short pieces for memoir classes like this one keep me honest that way. Even around the house, I take more pleasure now in crossing things off my list than doing them perfectly, which is another thing I thank Janet for.

Of course, I had many other outbursts. Like the times I cursed and shouted at my staff because I wasn’t happy with the way a job was done, which may have been my perfectionism talking. My apologies afterward were too little too late, and those occurrences totally tarnished my otherwise affable character. This led to a formal complaint against me by the target of one of my more severe outbursts, and rightly so. Because of it, I spent three sessions with a counselor at the State’s Employee Advisory Service in 2008, reviewing anger management techniques. Of course I understood everything she said intellectually, especially “Pause before you speak.” But my full emotional maturity may still be questionable. So I lost my management position over this outburst, even though, because I had over 30 years with the State, I was able to keep many of my other management jobs. 

That occurrence still haunts me to this day – not that I lost my position, but that I could be so cruel and unthinking while berating another person. I still feel remorse for that outburst, and also when i raise my voice to Janet. Nothing hurts her more....

So dear friends, and I count all of you readers and writers here as friends, if you see me getting on my high horse and interrupting your reasoned speech, or interjecting my opinion as a statement of fact, or making a snide remark, please don’t let me get away with it. Ultimately everyone learns from their mistakes, and I am still learning. I am learning to listen to your beautiful and poignant stories without making judgments, and I am also learning to write the truth about myself, even though it’s often hard to admit.  

The Hard Truth -- Part one

My anger can be uncontrollable, and it’s taken me a long time to recognize and accept that.  I was dating my future wife Janet in the summer of 1969, when I had an angry outburst neither of us has forgotten. It started innocently enough in her parent’s den, where we would shut the door, turn on the TV, and cuddle on the daybed.  One night we had been discussing our life together and what kind of furniture we would have in our future house. Being of Italian background and having grown up with it, I said, “We’ll hafta have plastic seat covers on the sofa and chairs.” It sounded perfectly reasonable to me – but only to me. Janet laughed loudly at this, and was incredulous! She wouldn’t understand why I would say such a thing! “What’s wrong with that?” I shouted.  I got so angry and violent, that I picked her up physically by her arms! For some primal reason, I was so attached to this idea, I got intensely angry, both verbally and physically, at her rejection. Of course, Janet was absolutely appalled, shocked, and crying.  She shouted, “Leave! Immediately!” I knew I had really hurt her, even more emotionally than physically, and so I left. I found out later that my fingers had left bruises on her arms. I thought, This is the last straw, she’s not going to take me back.

It took me a month of groveling, leaving apologetic phone messages, and sending cards, to reach Janet’s heart again. And I will be eternally grateful she accepted me back. What finally did it, I think, was when I handwrote her Shakespeare’s Sonnet Number 40, and mailed it to her. It says in part, “And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief To bear love’s wrong, than hate’s known injury….” I’ve never touched Janet that way again. In fact, I try very hard to not even raise my voice to her, as it has the same effect as a physical assault. When I have, she doesn’t talk to me for days, and my apologies don’t help, they make it worse. During our 41 years of marriage, it’s been impossible not to slip up.

My acceptance of my anger problem however, does not mean control, only amelioration.  What I mean is, my mouth can explode with invective at any time, totally unexpected, and totally cruel and hurtful.  Of course, Janet and our closest friends know this about me, but few others do. At least, I don’t think they know. But I might be wrong about that, since I certainly don’t discriminate in my outbursts, as exhibited by my numerous road rage incidents. It bothers me enough though, knowing I’m capable of such actions and verbal abuses, that I’ve learned to slow down, and bite my tongue more often. Now I try to handle things as if I were a contestant on one of my favorite game shows, Jeopardy. I’ve learned to speak in class only after Maria calls on me, instead of blurting out my opinion. In other words, I try to pause a moment before speaking, as any good anger management counselor will tell you to do. And I’ve been told more than once.

Outburst is the best word to describe what happens to me. I’ve often meditated on what causes my vitriolics, because they often contain nasty curse words, words I haven’t used in over 40 years. I know I’m not a very patient fellow, although I have mellowed greatly since hitting retirement age. Perhaps my lack of patience is my real problem? Or was it thirty years ago when I discovered I was bipolar? That could certainly explain some of my rash impulses, but is not an excuse for my bad behavior.                                               To be continued in Part Two.