Monthly Archives: September 2023

Ralph Rotella: The Sole of Syracuse

I’m happy to announce that my indie documentary short Ralph Rotella: The Sole of Syracuse, co-directed by my talented Syracuse University colleague Shane Johnson, will premiere at the Redhouse on Friday afternoon as an official entry of the Syracuse International Film Festival.

As many people in Central New York already know, Ralph is an amazing character with a generous heart, and it was a blast learning more about him.

After walking past his shop almost every day for the past few years, I felt compelled to go inside and talk to him. Inspired by Studs Terkel’s book Working, I wanted to do a mini doc to answer two questions: 1) Do people still get their shoes repaired in the 21st century 2) Can this man actually earn a living through shoe repair alone (taking into account the high cost of a downtown office building lease)? Or does he need an alternate income to survive?

Ralph Rotella hammering a heel. Photo Credit: Shane Johnson.

Ralph was a tough interview, and it was a challenge stringing together a narrative based on his terse sound bites, quips, and comedic digressions. And the film I thought I was making turned into something slightly different. But that’s the beauty of documentary filmmaking; if you take the time to pay attention to your subject, the story will reveal itself to you.

Photo Credit: Shane Johnson.

And through Shane’s fine cinematography—as we observed a “day in the life” of the shop, cinema verité style—we captured authentic personal moments that illustrate the bond Ralph shares with his customers on a daily basis.

This is Ralph’s work bench. It’s my favorite frame from the film. Photo Credit: Shane Johnson.

And here’s a little teaser we prepared in anticipation of the premiere.

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Eight Weeks Later

Today marks two months since my transsphenoidal brain surgery to remove tumor regrowth. I’m happy to report I’m getting stronger every day. I’d say I’m about 80 percent back to normal. I have returned to work and jumped back into the maelstrom of marketing projects, deadlines, and responsibilities.

Eight weeks post-surgery.

My nose still throbs, and I needed a round of antibiotics for a recent infection of the cartilage. I had a follow-up appointment with the ENT surgeon; he mentioned it will take about three to six months for me to be fully healed—not surprising considering they rolled part of my septum and used it as a nasoseptal flap to patch where the cerebral spinal fluid leaked during surgery. But the good news—the seal at the back near the opening of the sphenoid sinus is holding.

My nemesis: the twice-daily nasal rinse bottle.

I still need to do twice-daily saline rinses and take Tylenol for the pain. I lifted “weights” yesterday for the first time in eight weeks—don’t laugh at my little five-pound dumbbells. I hope to resume heaving fifteen-pounders in a couple of weeks.

Hitting the “weights.”

Two songs have been repeating in my head during my recovery.

Elton John’s “I’m Still Standing.”

And Steve Winwood’s “Back in the High Life Again.”

And here’s a photo from a Walgreens: the gift of a beautiful sight revealed to me on a mundane Friday night.

Sublime sunset from a parking lot. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

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Urban Exploration

I had a morning eye doctor’s appointment earlier this week. And I had some time to kill before the dilation drops rendered my eyes useless for the rest of the day. After getting off the bus at Washington Street near City Hall, I cut across Montgomery Street while making my way to Presidential Plaza.

St. Paul’s Church. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Brick wall with ivy. Photo by Francis DiClemente.

Along the way, I snapped a few photos with my antiquated, battery-challenged iPhone 8, jotted down a quick poem about some feathered denizens of the Salt City, and captured a moment of tranquility on a sunny morning downtown.

I felt grateful for the opportunity to capture a myriad of sights and sounds the universe sent my way. It was another reminder to always pay attention to my surroundings and be on the lookout for creative inspiration. Here’s the poem I wrote. It required significant revision as it made the transition from my pocket notebook to my computer.

Bird Chatter

Three pigeons
perched on a wire.

What are they
talking about
on this bright,
sunny morning?

But their conversation
is restricted—not for
human interpretation.

And the chatter ends
when the birds
lift from the wire,
taking off in formation,

flapping their wings,
and sending feathers
twirling to the ground.

 

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Jumpcuts of Thought

I was flipping through one of my older poetry books—Dreaming of Lemon Trees: Selected Poems (Finishing Line Press, 2019)—and I came upon “Jumpcuts of Thought.” I like the stupid absurdity of it, and I thought I would share the poem, since many people have not read it in book form. It’s also one of the only poems I’ve written that employs the use of rhyme.

Jumpcuts of Thought

Clorox shine
and Rust Belt mine.

Ruddy hue
and Spade gumshoe.

Tootsie Pop
and soiled mop.

J.S. Bach
and Shakur, Tupac.

Codeine high
and ham on rye.

Minnie Mouse
and adobe house.

Petrie dish
and sardine fish.

Rockwell print
and strand of lint.

Ruby Dee
and Wounded Knee.

Swollen lip
and radar blip.

Clark Gable
and Aesop fable.

Toilet seat
and sirloin meat.

Shower stall
and Camus’s The Fall.

Mustard green
and college dean.

Lowell, Mass.
and Namath pass.

The odd pairings
go on and on,
in this celebration of incongruity—
a verbal exercise
to stimulate the mind.

 

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