East Side High School Alumni

Newark, New Jersey (NJ)

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Bob Kresko (Pen Name ROBERE)

Class of 1961

For all of you lovely people wh are stading befor this document, who are able to see and read and feel this marvelous world around you. I bid you an astounding welcome. I have posted my story because of its inherent inspirationl qualities.Life... It is a marvelous treasure. I do hope that the story below will urge you to reach for and attain all the best. You are the very stuff that dreams are made of, with engaging stories yet to be told. so... Let your story not be a sentence, a paragraph or a chapter in someone book, let it be your own novel.
There is nothing, unquestionably nothing in this realm of reality that is unachievable, and all it takes is that first small step to start the journey of your lifetime. A willingness to say “Yes I Can” and eliminate every road blocking negative thought. We truly are children on this planetary playground and on that other side of the mask of identity you are wearing is the same little child you remember the first time you recognized yourself in the mirror…with each change of your personal appearance or adaption of societal edicts or compromising peer pressure, the world may have changed around you, but the tiny seed of creative spirit sitting in the drivers seat of your earthly carriage has never changed, just adapted.
May each step along your worldly path be a celebration of your life, may each breath you take be an exhilarating realization of your existence, and may each thought be a reminder of your exquisite and sentient being. May each sight be a miracle in your life and may each journey be a joyous eternity.
I would like to proffer to you all that the Universe has to offer. It is yours, it was always yours, forever there waiting for your acknowledgement. A matter of perceiving and “seeing” the world with your thoughts.
I extend my hand in global friendship and I tender my heart in human compassion. May life and the Universe provide you with its everlasting miracle.

On Roving
Essay from my book entitled "Perspectives"

When I finished the final poem in my first attempt at writing, I truly believed I had found answers I was looking for, and therefore assumed it was not necessary to do any further writing. I was satisfied with what I thought I had accomplished. I became a nomad and a rover, I felt a necessity for travel, and without really understanding, I was now experiencing the world through the eyes of all of the written words in that first book of poetry. Opportunities in life were provided on a daily basis for me to see and hear and compare what I thought I was seeing. Even the books I selected to read had references to the formatting of my continuing education of life.
I have had the great pleasure of performing on the stage in many dramas and musicals and it became apparent in every production there was one line which was seemingly meant just for me.
Coincidence? I have had the good fortune, I believe, to have the opportunity to reside in many different, diverse places around the country: New York, New Jersey, Maine, Vermont, Florida, California, Washington and Hawaii. Out of the country; Cabo, El Salvador and Vancouver, BC. I’ve spent time in every state, except Alaska (still on my list). My living conditions were varied and diverse, at times rustic, exotic, quixotic, compartmented, remote, palatial and marine. There have been approximately 60 different addresses in my wanderings. At the seashore, on a lagoon, in big cities, little towns and quaint villages, in a house, in a tent, in a trailer, in a cabin, on an estate, on a mountain, on a river, in marinas, on yachts, in a car, in hotels, in a commune, and even the bridal suite of a small inn. I have lived in a barn, in an RV, and slept on the living room floor at a friend’s house. A condo or three, a chalet in the woods, on a lake and in a campground.
The jobs and positions I have held were as varied and distinct as were my living conditions. Among them I have owned a restaurant, a coffee shop, managed B&B’s, bartended, served at restaurants around the country, cooked and washed dishes and was also a Maitre’D. I drove a limo, worked on the Railroad, as a house painter, and as a dockworker. Sold kitchen cabinets, cars and stucco siding. In charge of the largest roofing installation of its kind in the world, managed commercial roofing and sheet metal businesses, was the best slate roofer in the country, managed a winery, owned a wine shop, did carpentry work, maintained industrial buildings, accomplished interior and exterior design work, drove trucks, managed construction related stores and sold flooring products. Did boat repair and maintenance, composed and created a newsletter and graphic design work.
My activities have been as diverse. In this category I have played football, baseball and basketball, became very accomplished in bowling, racquetball and rock climbing. Appeared in the lead role of many theatrical productions and musical revues. Wrote my own one-man cabaret type show and did set design. Became accomplished in photography and painting, sculpting and even wrote a few songs and won a national haiku writing contest.
There is something else I will include, and that is the multitude of trips I have made across or around the country and the modes of travel which I utilized. I believe all of the information I have provided so far is integral and will explain the reason why at the end of this this chapter.
I have traveled from one side of the continent to the other in 7 different modes of mobility. (1) The expected airplane was used many times and from various cities, both north and south. (2) I have thumbed a ride from the East Coast to the West Coast because it was one of those things which I felt, at the time, was necessary for life’s experience.
(3) I have driven the cross country route 4 times in 4 different vehicles and 4 different routes. One of those vehicles ( a 1969 Porsche 914) was discovered in a barn, rusting and decaying for over 10 years, I resuscitated and regenerated it, and it performed admirably and brilliantly and I loved every moment of our experience together. (4) One bus trip, for the experience and knowledge and another page in my history. (5) One motorcycle trip. At the time I was living in a trailer in the middle of a barnyard on a ranch in No. CA. The motorcycle was outside my door in 3 pieces, lying in dirt and mud for 5 years, due to an accident with its previous owner. I acquired the bike, put it back together, brought it back to roaring life, and after 4 months of trial and road testing rode it 4000 miles in 10 days of continued driving, across the country and fulfilled another wish on my list. (6) The train holds a special place in my history. I have accumulated nearly 100,000 of travel on almost every Amtrak line and have had some of my fondest memories staring out of those big picture windows watching an almost fantasy like countryside pass before my awe struck eyes. (7) And the best trip included airplane, train and seagoing commercial trip to go around the USA and Central America, through the Panama Canal. The trip started in San Francisco, air to Seattle, train to Chicago, Train to New York, and air to Fort Lauderdale FL, living on board a yacht at the Bahia Mar marina for one month, Float this yacht onto an ocean going liner which transports boats from one port to another, and travel from Lauderdale through the Panama Canal to Vancouver, BC. Lived on the yacht in a local marina in Vancouver, then traveled on another yacht thru the San Juan Islands, with a stop at Friday harbor to Seattle, WA, resided on board at the Pier 66 Marina for 4 months, then back to the original starting point of SF aboard the same boat. 7 months of travel and experiences. The trips listed involved travel for one coast to the other.
There were numerous other explorations as well, covering thousands of miles, in a variety of vehicles, both on the ground and in the air.
Now, for the purpose of including a lot of my personal biography in this preface.
After “receiving” all of the information in Part One, I had to think of my life in a different way, an atypical perspective. Life wasn’t what I thought it was, (Or was it?), or what I was taught it would be, and people and places were not as portrayed on the radio or television screen. Every day was a new lesson, a new teacher, a new sight, a new sound and a transformative experience. When I tried to relate my observations, I discovered there was adversity to change and adamant attitude about keeping things “the way they are”. Also, there was timidity and trepidation, an unwillingness to step out on the edge and jump off the precipice of perceived reality and soaring into a new and dynamic actuality. So, I began to walk through two worlds, which now co-existed in my visual apprehension, one of every day mass agreement and another which I was following implanted ethereal signposts. I became adapted at straddling the two separate, but distinct realities which presented themselves, one foot in the world I was taught to know, and one foot in the world I was yet to know.
What I did realize, early on, was that opportunity for change was always there, and I could do anything I set myself to do. There was no limit to ability, only my own self imposed restrictions. So, no matter what I looked at or attempted, I “knew” it was not only possible, but a Universal mandate because of my belief in myself. But, there was something else, something deeper and much more profound then in my limited imagination. Not only did all of my fondest wishes come to fore, but my most secretive fears, both innate and media induced, were becoming a part and parcel of an eye opening evaluation of the world “I thought” I lived in. How strange, how bizarre, how wonderfully elucidating! There were no parameters, no limitations to what could be or what you thought you could do. The universe was not a plus or minus situation, nor good or bad, but a living womb for the purpose of incubating all seeds of thought no matter which living organisms on Earth engendered them. So, I watched in awe at this splendid Galactic play was acted out in front of what I would like to consider my still child-like formative eyes.
I was making comparison after comparison, a critical and systematic analysis of what was, what is, and what could be. The opportunity for a world to be whatever it wanted or whatever it feared. And I saw and heard trepidation in so many venues and aspects of conversation. The seeds from the apple of experience were ingested by the masses and little trees bearing the same fruit were cultivated and plucked by exploitative farmers.
So, why all the trekking? I would like to consider myself a visitor on this spatial, orbiting, wobbly blue marble of a planet. A tourist, a traveler, taking a two week vacation that lasts a lifetime. One who is on a holiday…everyday. A beautiful world to see and hear, smell, feel and touch. An experience which can only be labeled, “Awesome Dude”! For this world to exist is a miracle, for anything to exist at all, goes beyond any thing I can grasp with my prevalent preconceived limited capacities. And the inherent beauty I comprehend by nature itself, is a one time , must see place on my destination calendar. I was mesmerized and smitten by the exquisite loveliness, ingenuity and expression of an utterly vibrant, living, respiring planet. I had to know more about it and I had to re-educate myself and acclimate myself to nature’s call.
So I began an unknown quest, a search for knowledge beyond my knowledge. To “see” beyond what I was taught to see. I wanted to live life on the edge, to ingest it and taste it, and savor every breath of it. Every second was a part of my travels, every minute was a gracious reckoning of life, and every day was a grateful thank you for being alive. I went on a trip, and then another trip, and another. Each one was a classroom in the Universitas Vitae and every one I met along the way became a professor along the path. Every time I journeyed, it was a new day, a new class, a new subject, a unique and relevant experience. The invisible drummer was pounding out an inaudible tempo and my heart responded by stepping into the marching line of eternal poetic music and dancing to its rhythmical melodic beat.
Traveling; going from one place to another. In search of what? I don’t know. But it really doesn’t matter. It certainly wasn’t about finding happiness, I knew there was more. I knew happiness could not be in any one particular physical place. A place was just that, only a place, neither good nor bad but indifferent. The difference was me, what I saw, what I felt, what pervaded my very being. So happiness was not a location, nor was it a part of me, it was me. It was my entire being; I could choose to be cheery and exultant no matter where I was. It was the physical image I presented to this world. Journeying from one place to another did not make me happy, it was the infinite and remarkable display of the manifestations this planet has to offer, the extra sensory appeal of physical, palpable, ethereal presence.
So my questing expedition provided an endless amount of “places” to assimilate, as well as the opportunity to audition my own conviction of my abilities to adapt to a position or a physical challenge. To ply a boundless list of talents I “knew” I possessed, and yes, I knew everyone else had the self same capabilities whether they knew it or even if they were still not aware of their remarkable innate “gifts”.
The door of opportunity opened in each new locality, and I did not, or would not turn down a chance to do or learn something new. If I felt stuck or threatened in any given situation I would simply query the Universes “help” menu and answers were always provided by something or someone in my immediate surroundings.
I became extremely proficient at whatever I took on. But it wasn’t about position or work. It was about place. Each” place” I lived at became a tourist attraction for me. I motored its back roads, I boated on its waters, I flew through its sky, and I partook of its foods and sipped its libations and spirits. I assimilated its culture or its lack thereof, and stored every byte of experience in my memory storage unit. But there was always something more, another gateway would open and beckon me to move on.
Moving to another neighborhood and philosophy were relatively easy for me. My collection of stuff was kept at a minimum. At any given moment; I could pack my car and go. Even on prolonged journeys, whether it was 2 or 3 days, or 5-7 months, I packed one simple red shoulder travel bag with items that would sustain me no matter what circumstances would arise, be it formal or casual.
There was a host of trips on my wish list. Thought out and planned in advance, many of them have been completed, some yet l to fulfill. But why this comprehensive listing of places, jobs and residences? I mentioned I lived on the veritable edge, where it was almost a day to day existence. Most of the time I was supremely confident, every once in a while a thought of concern would creep in. but when I embarked on one of Earth’s tours, even if the only capital I had was in my pocket, I was able to depart with absolute confidence that I would be alright, and when I returned, no matter the duration, I had at least the same amount of money I departed with or more. Pretty cool, huh?
And all of this verbiage brings me back to the beginning. I was living in Maine and thoughts of written words were starting to bubble up inside me. I couldn’t contain them anymore and I knew my vow of discontinued writing was postulated at the completion of Part One. I now had the scribe’s itchiness clawing at a blank piece of paper again. So I gave the requisite stare up at the heavens and voiced these words out loud, “I know I said I was through with writing, but I’ve reconsidered and I want to change my mind and I would like to write again, a book if you will, because I feel I have to‘.
So…serendipitous events opened doorways in the hallway of life, and I did write, again and again. It started with a book, a children’s book (until I realized it was a children’s book for adults). Then I became an artist and illustrated the book (because I could not find anyone to paint what vision I was “seeing” for the pages). Okay…then I acquired musical pieces and orchestrated a musical rendition of the story and added on my own idea of the characters voices to the CD.
I wrote another book, created greeting cards and wrote the first chapter of a fantasy based novel, and a few songs along the way.

Is there more? The answer, would be a resounding yes! Do I know what they are? Not yet.

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