The Big Reveal:                       

My name is Kevin Xavier Kyle. I never liked Kevin as my name. “Kevin” is an eight year old boy whose mother loves him. Lash or Steve would have been much better I thought in my MIND.

“Kongo” was the name I settled on; but I never told anyone. I even made up a little ditty melody. “There he goes, Kongo Kyle, riding down the Nile on a Crocodile.” I never told anyone that either. It was none of their business. But in my MIND, I was Kongo. I spent the first 14 years of my life in Hoboken, New Jersey. Kongo+Boken = kongoboken and there you go. I’ve grown to like the name and at least for a while will keep this site going.

kongoboken.com  was originally “cabinets and drawers and boxes and chests holding an almost random collection of dubious literary odds and ends, many biographical many opinionated many miss-spelled” but I’ve realized lately, the Blog IS the organizing. As I find things in the basement of my life they get Blogged in 500 word chunks and are thereafter forever digitally available as long as I pay the fee. So, in addition to being the irreverent and perhaps irrelevant observations of an old white man, this Blog will be that old white man’s life in pieces. Which is pretty close to how life happens anyway.

Every now and then some of the pieces will get organized into drawers and scattered around. Because one doesn’t want to be TOO organized. Maybe when I’m TOTALLY semi-organized, I’ll move kongoboken.com to kevinxkyle.com and be done with it. It’s good to have goals!  

Tales of Amagansett Part 4:  Traffic

Thursday I’d check the weather. It didn’t matter what it was. Susan and I were going to Amagansett. It didn’t matter what time we left on Friday. There would be traffic. Going out was never as bad as returning. Going out we were happy to be going to the beach and all the frivolous images it provides. We would bring lots of groceries and beer. Occasionally, I’d stop on the way at an Indian Reservation Smoke Shop to buy cigarettes. A carton of Marlboro ($2.50) and a carton of Kool  ($2.50) will keep me in smokes for a few weeks.

It was stop and go on the Long Island Expressway until Exit 49ish. We’d usually get off in the 60’s. You drove a few miles and turned left onto Sunrise Highway Route 27. The name changes but not the number. It ends up Montauk Highway. But Route 27 and the Expressway were basically the only 2 roads you traversed. Two roads, 2 hours on a normal Friday night. Manageable. When we arrived, it was dark and quiet. The salty smell and sounds of the surf washed over us. I’m NOW (2023) remembering the smell and surf sounds in Long Branch that prompted this whole series. Must go back there.

Suddenly it’s Sunday and the “when do we leave” debate starts. Do we leave at 3 and maybe get home at 7. Or do we wait and leave at 7 and get home at midnight or later. Decisions. Decisions. Whatever we choose, the traffic was terrible. On Route 27 we had Malls on either side of the road with traffic lights and 2 lane left turn lanes. No matter which time you chose you had Seniors going to the blue hair specials or families heading to the Outback Steakhouse. It was stop and go until you got to a connector to the Expressway – maybe 20 miles from Amagansett. So for 20 miles you just stopped and go’ed you way.

Most drivers were so fed up with the stop and go shit that they all took the first road possible to the Expressway. Only 7 or so miles but on a one lane road with a shoulder. It’s that shoulder that sticks in my mind as an example of “every now and then, something GREAT happens – and you are there to watch it”. We’d be on the road, close to the entrance to the Expressway. It was just up ahead. On the right. That shoulder sure looked inviting. I could just pull over and speed up. Tempting, but not for me, I’m chicken. Others would do it and it would PISS ME OFF. One day we found three patrol cars had been pulling shoulder riders over and they were all lined up in an empty parking area waiting to get a ticket. It made the rest of the trip somehow easier.

But mostly it was a fight to get onto each of the 2 roads and then just the fact of too many cars going to the same place. By the time we got home I’d be swearing I would NEVER go back to Amagansett again. Then I’d go to work on Monday. And again, on Tuesday. By Wednesday, Amagansett was looking good. By Thursday I was checking the weather.   

Two Things I need to say:    

#1 The Fireplace, Paramus NJ is no more. I ate there perhaps 10 times over the years. It was never on my list of great restaurants. Opened in 1956 by WW2 vet Frank Reilly.  It was the type of place you met people at. Maybe your first date was there. After local football games, family dinners. When it opened it had dark wood booths and counters and stools and window frames. The place was one giant labyrinth of dark wood. They served thin sliced steak sandwiches and Burgers, fries and Franks. In later years they added Chicken.

The Fireplace was quintessentially New Jersey. You needed a car to get to it (exit 165 off the GSP). Every High School kid within 5 miles had worked or knew someone who had worked there. They gave to every charity and probably hosted every Birthday Party in the area. When The Fireplace was demolished in September 2023 it had dark wood booths and counters and stools and window frames. It smelled like thin sliced steak sandwiches and Burgers, fries and Franks with abit of Chicken.  It is to be replaced by a Chick-fil-A.  I hope Frank sees the irony!

#2 Yes That’s my g-Mail Account and there is no hidden meaning at all.

What you’ll get from BING:

Don Diego Vega’s Zorro debuted in Johnston McCulley‘s novel The Curse of Capistrano, serialized in five parts between August 9 and September 6, 1919. In The Curse of Capistrano, Señor Zorro became an outlaw in the pueblo of Los Angeles in California “to avenge the helpless, to punish cruel politicians, to aid the oppressed” and is dubbed the “Curse of Capistrano”. 

What you’ll get from MY MIND:

Zorro in the 1950’s was Guy Williams and the Disney series remained mostly true to the early California legends. Zorro fit my budding mindset of an Avenging Angel image and was worked into my Ralph Phillips type day-dreaming. There are a few obscure Zorro silent serials that portray a troop of white caped mini-zorros coming to his aid. That image was always with me – still is. I can expect a troop of white caped clad helpers to come galloping to my aid at a whistle. It bestows a certain level of confidence – false, but real enough.

Over the years I’ve replaced the metaphor of mini-zorros with my Mom coming to my aid  – perhaps interceding with God because, God knows, she had her ear the moment she arrived in Heaven. I would say to my son: “We’ve got a BIG advantage because we have Grandma watching out for us.” But in MY MIND, the Troop is always at ready – backup to Mom. The important point is I am free to avenge wherever avenging is needed. (cue music) get it?    

Tales of Amagansett Part 3:  Lobsters  

Susan and I were the “always there” weekend visitors to her twin sister’s house in Amagansett during the summer months of 1975 and 1976. There were a few exceptions. Fred and Anne came into the City for the Bi-Centennial Bash on July 4, 1976. But that’s another story.

We were assigned the loft area and from our perch observed a never-ending parade of different friends each weekend. Usually 2 sometimes 3 or 4; they would arrive Saturday midday and leave Sunday PM. Some I knew some I didn’t. Everyone was mid-twenty and looking for a day at the beach. There was one night in two years that someone got really obnoxious and Fred had to throw them out. There was a Motel to the left so it’s not like he kicked their ass to the highway. Actually, he DID kick their ass to the highway.

But mostly the festivities went the same every weekend. Saturday afternoon was at the beach. Swim, pass ball, sun, gather brush for night fire. If we carried a cooler, drink beer. Five o’clock and the guys are off to Gosman’s Dock because Everyone Wants Lobster. (Note: in researching this post I googled Gosman’s and can say it is NOTHING like I am about to describe. And a $38 Lobster Roll is not my memory of summer 1975/6). Gosman’s Dock was on a small dock where a few fishing boats would load and un-load. Gosman’s had giant coolers and a small counter service. Lobsters were in bins by size like 1-2-3 4+. 1 dollar a pound for the smallest and up to maybe 4 bucks for the 4+ and trust me there was the occasional macho friend who would insist that he needed to eat a 4-pound lobster. Back home we meet the girls, who had bought corn, butter, lemons, and beer from the Amagansett IGA just down the road to the left.

Dinner was a true symphony of tasks and smells. The Mastro of the symphony was Anne a serious task master with a mission: to provide an excellent meal of steamed lobster with corn on the cob all obscenely coated with butter. I immediately posted myself at Anne’s side cleaning the lobsters (which mostly involved twisting the head off the tail and asking the chef what she wants done with the head – NEVER ASSUME). I also shucked corn. Over the 20 or so weekends this ritual was repeated I had many discussions of to garlic of not to garlic the steaming water. Or to husk or not to husk the corn. If there are enough cooks involved just about anything you do will be dead wrong to one of them. Anne would have none of that. She’d send the hangers-on to Fred for Grill or Firepit duties.

As time went on, I successfully lobbied for an occasional Bluefish to be added to the menu. I did the prep and cooking and to this day look forward to someone calling me with a just caught Bluefish. Recipe is salt & pepper butter and lemons inside (did I mention this is a whole cleaned fish?), salt & pepper butter and lemons outside. Wrap it up with foil. Then wrap it up again. I always wrapped it a third time but Heavy duty foil is better these days that back then. Anyway, you are left with a foil football that can get thrown on a grill of on a fire for at least 40 minutes and up to 90 if you are playing and forgot about it. Open the foil carefully and the meat will fall off the bone in big chunks.

The reason I started the Bluefish is I was losing my taste for Lobster. EVERY weekend! Oh wait, if we were staying until Monday or longer we’d probably walk the short way to the Lobster Roll restaurant, just up the road to the right. At the time it was a shack with a huge “LUNCH” sign run by 2 hippies who were stoned much of the time and made great ….. you guessed it   –   lobster rolls. But if I were to REALLY think on this lobster thing, It’s not a taste thing. I do like the taste of buttered lobster. I think I got so used to eating my buttered lobster on a beach with a bathing suit on and having the butter pour down my chest and not caring because when I’m done, I’m jumping in the ocean and cleaning off. THAT is freedom. How do you eat lobster in a restaurant? VERY CAREFULLY with a bib on no less. No, it’s not worth all the fuss. I’ll take a salted grilled shrimp any day.

But I digress: dinner went on into darkness; the fire on the beach was either kept up or we moved into the house to the sound of constant waves dashing. We played ring-a-levio when we had a large crown. One night, Anne ran into my head and broke her nose. During that same game I fell into a sand dune and got so much sand in both eyes I was scooping it out with my finger. I found sand on my pillow for days afterward. Just a few times the crowd voted to go to a club but we mostly didn’t. Clubbing in the Hamptons even in the 70’s was expensive and we were not rich. Sunday I enjoyed cooking breakfast as long as it was eggs and toast. By this time we were all fast friends although I never saw anyone ever again. If the sun permitted it was more beaching and then our guests and maybe even Susan and I would leave for THE TRIP  HOME. And TRAFFIC.   

Tales of Amagansett Part 2:  Garbage and “Away”

 “Throw it away”. We’ve heard the term all our lives. Ever wonder how far away “away” is? I can tell you with firsthand eye-witness knowledge: in Amagansett in 1975/76, “away” was about 8 miles from the A-Frame. I would always try to take Monday off from work to avoid the Sunday night traffic leaving Long Island beaches. Driving to New Jersey on Monday night was only terrible, on Sunday’s, traffic was OUTRAGEOUS. Anyway, Monday was Garbage Day. No that doesn’t mean the garbage bins are out on the curb to be picked up. There was no pick-up in Amagansett, YOU brought your garbage to “the Dump”.

So being the helpful constant guest that I was, I offered to help Fred with the task. We placed seven supermarket bags of assorted trash in the trunk of Fred’s Chevy Vega. No black trash bags, just seven plain paper bags. Since recycling hadn’t been invented yet, that trash consisted mostly of lobster shells, fish heads and beer bottles. We drove toward Montauk about 12 minutes and turned left into the Suffolk County Land Fill area. Think long dirt road leading to a field with parallel dug trenches. We stop and are directed to throw our seven bags into the trench along the right side of the road. Did I mention the seagulls? Hundreds of seagulls enjoyed the food court provided by humans. I wondered why there were ANY seagulls at the beach. There were umbrellas, beach chairs, refrigerators, toilets; the place was obviously a dump! As an aside: the next year we were throwing our bags onto the LEFT side of the road. Good to know there was some intelligence behind the process!!

That is NOT the closest I’ve been to “away”. I’ve made a note to write about my weekend on an island in the Belgrade Lakes section of Maine. (AND THAT, good reader, is how a Blog Post is born!)

In 1992 the definition of AWAY changed for New York City when ocean dumping was made illegal by law. Yes, I said 1992. I live in New Jersey where we were blessed by God with Pennsylvania, a very large mostly empty State to our west. On a quiet summer night you can almost hear the siren song wafting in from the west: “Let me embrace your trash and secret the black bags under my largely desolate areas of wooded nothingness.” Not all States are as lucky. Looking down the garbage strewed road – there’s always Canada.

Tales of Amagansett Part 1: The Smell and the Book

During 1975 and 1976, I spent two summers living in an A-Frame house in Amagansett, NY. Not exactly the whole summer, allow me to explain:

The Main Characters: myself, my first lovely wife, Susan, Susan’s twin sister Anne and her husband Fred.

The Setting: Situated between East Hampton and Montauk NY, Amagansett was, before the last Ice Age, the end of Long Island. Montauk was an Island. As the Glaciers receded, they left a small spit of land connecting Amagansett to Montauk.

Fred’s sister was married to a Watch manufacturer who, in 1975, purchased two homes in Amagansett. It was a new development off Montauk Highway Route 27 (that spit of land). There was a BIG house 1 block from the beach and a small A-Frame off the Highway (4 blocks from the beach). Fred’s job was to “Re-do the A-Frame”. We all knew it was a “gift” from his sister. Nevertheless, Fred worked 5 days a week “re-doing” things. He must have done a good job since that little A-Frame is still there. See for yourself on Goggle Maps: 1882 Atlantic Drive, Amagansett NY 11930. It used to be visible from the Highway but the trees have grown and is only visible off Atlantic Drive. I used to joke to Fred that the Driveway could hold 28 party goers but the house only 8.

Susan and I had the Loft to ourselves. It was about 12 feet by 15 feet but I could only standup in the four foot center section. We were in our mid-twenties and loved it. I never realized how much those two summers had affected me until I started piecing my life together. Amagansett kept popping up. So let’s do it – I’ve enough notes for 3 or 4 Blogs and then we’ll put an Amagansett Drawer together. Maybe with some pictures although this seems to be a “no photos, please” period of my life.

The Smell: My lovely wife, J, and I were staying at a resort on the Atlantic Ocean in January 2023. We had a balcony that opened right onto the beach. There were no people on the beach (it was January!). I slid the door opened and was greeted by a whiff of Salty Air that immediately brought back VIVID memories of you guessed it—-  Amagansett. Susan and I would pull into this huge driveway about 10pm on a Friday night.  We’d sit in the kitchen with Anne and Fred and commiserate about our week. The doors and windows were wide open and the air was soooo salty. It’s hard to explain. But the memory is vivid and happy.

The Book: There were books around the A-Frame. One was a thin book by Anne Morrow Lindbergh titled A Gift from the Sea. I was into the political novels of Allen Drury at the time, but I did occasionally pick up this little book and go sit on the beach. Its stories were unmemorable except for the rhythm of the words. Arriving the second summer, I was glad to find the little book still there. Over the years I’ve bought several copies and probably have one around the house but cannot find it for the life of me. When I heard there was to be a 50th Anniversary edition of a Gift from the Sea, I thought I’d buy a copy for J. I did. She will enjoy it. I know that even thought I haven’t read a word from this book in years. It’s that kind of book.    

To my Lovely Wife

Quantum   Part 1:                                                                              

I like Quantum. I like the word. I like the sound of it. You can’t say Quantum without exercising more of your mouth muscles that usual. Of course, you have to say it out loud to feel what I mean. Say Quantum out loud.

I cannot believe you said Quantum out loud. Wait, I CAN believe it. Because in a Quantum Universe anything is possible. But that’s another Blog. THIS Blog Post is talking about a press release from my favorite Quantum Computer Company, D-Wave Quantum Computers (QBTS). Yes, I own stock in this Company. No, I am not advising anyone to buy this Company’s stock. It’s a recent press release from this Company I want to highlight today.

First off – I’ve said before Quantum Computers are a solution searching for a problem. Keep that in mind. Second off – the thing that Quantum Computers bring to the party is they are FAST at computing. Third off – SOME optimization problems are even today too much for our computers to solve quickly. Like what kind of problems, you ask?? Did you ask that? The kind of problems that involve tracking incoming ballistic missiles travelling thousands of miles an hour and scheduling the appropriate ahead response  –  well wait, let’s just let you read the part of the press release I’m referring to:

D-Wave and Davidson Technologies Introduce New Innovations to Advance National Defense Efforts

“…Designed to mitigate potential attacks, the interceptor assignment application is able to take into account a multitude of complex variables, including missile capability in negating threats, balanced allocation of missiles to threats, and availability of resources to help quickly identify the potential defense threats and identify key mitigation tactics. The radar scheduling application efficiently manages the time-limited resources of a phased-array radar system, enabling scheduling of communication with moving objects…”

I love the last two words “moving objects”. Sounds so innocuous. Just give the computer control of certain things and it can work faster and make decisions quicker. Sound familiar? In the Terminator Movie series, the system was called Skynet.  Go ahead read it again. Here’s the good news – it most probably won’t work. It’s just a press release. We WILL talk Quantum again.