Glimpses from The Edge - Preview From 1stBooks Library -- Glimpses From The Edge by Dan Bruder

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Date Posted: 12:49:35 10/30/02 Wed
Author: 1stBooks Library Website
Subject: Glimpses from The Edge - Preview From 1stBooks Library

About the Book:

Glimpses From The Edge is a collection of true, autobiographical short stories that reveal the humor, heartache, near misses and personal achievements as the author, Dan Bruder, journeys up the bumpy roads on the mountain of life. The two-dozen tales visit his life in suburban New Jersey in the second half of the 20th century, where his view of the world was molded by his adoption, the Cold War, race riots, Vietnam, drugs and alcohol, the music business, cancer, violence, marriage and lots of tumultuous adventures. The stories also chronicle Bruder's encounters with everyone from celebrities, criminals, dirt-poor farmers, political radicals, friends, lovers, his family members and his heroes. Bruder generously divulges many personal inner perceptions that he gleaned from these individuals and experiences.

A good deal of the stories are snapshots of dangerous or embarrassing incidents in which Bruder was either a witness or participant, and how he turned these notorious acts into learning experiences. Bruder drags the reader through some trying moments in his life, but always deliver the reader to a destination filled with hope and warm feelings.

The collection is honest and factual, which adds to the intensity of what transpired in each of these neatly packaged narratives. The stories have the common theme of a positive perspective and hopeful outlook towards life in a world filled with many troubling questions and few answers.

About The Author

Dan Bruder has been an author and composer for the last three decades, having compiled a significant collection of works that are tributes to his rich life experiences. He spent the first half of his adult life as a rock performer and was mentored by, worked with, or opened onstage for many music industry legends. His fans and friends always viewed him as a loveable, energetic, outspoken hurricane of creativity. But his entertaining came with a personal price that became too much for him to bear. After chasing the rock and roll dream for many years, he came close to the edge of ruin.

In the mid 1980s, Bruder turned his energies away from the music business and live performing, and settled into a comfortable, married life. During this period he became a successful executive recruiter and once again the creative juices began to flow. Retooling his song writing talents to develop short stories, he ventured onto a journey of self-exploration. The result has been a series of autobiographical tales that are truthful accounts and admissions of his adventures living in New Jersey.

Bruder earned a B.A from Fairleigh Dickenson University and has written articles for various magazines and journals. He lives in New Jersey with his wife and stepdaughter.

Free Preview:

"My dad worked as an optometrist in East Orange, NJ from the late 1940's until he finally retired in the mid 1990's. When he started his practice, the town was a desirable, upper middle class community of hard working people who had tremendous pride in where they lived. As the years marched on, the town slowly decayed into the financially depressed, lower class peripheral of the city of Newark, NJ and was ravaged with crime and violence. His patients were mostly black people living within walking distance to his small, unpretentious office that had gone from a once welcoming front picture glass window to a securely boarded up fortress.

Dad endured incidents of vandalism and burglaries as the 1960's moved on and we all feared the day when he would be the target of a violent assault. This was of particular concern considering the fact that he was one of the few white people in the neighborhood, who happened to be a Jewish doctor and routinely came and left the office in a very predictable schedule. If this didn't spell "come and get me!" to some angry local bad boys, I don't know what would. It was at this point, as a young man, that I first realized the fact that my dad was in serious jeopardy of getting injured or killed every time he left the house to go to work. But yet, he refused to move his office and throw in the towel.

My mom and I would hammer him on the dangers and the risks he was exposing himself to by venturing into this foreboding, hostile environment every day. He didn't want to hear about it. It was not until quite a few years later that I realized he couldn't turn his back on his community. He had decades of relationships with thousands of people that called East Orange "home," and called him "Doc." Most of the people he helped were hard working, family people who probably didn't want to be living in these conditions anymore than he wanted to be there.

The reports of violent crime escalated and by 1968 East Orange had the dubious title of being one of the most dangerous communities in the Untied States. To add fuel to the fire, in the summer of 1967, simmering racial frustration erupted into the massive race riots throughout the country and that is when my dad's community exploded.

The Newark riots crept up Central Avenue towards his little office like an unstoppable flow of angry lava. There was no stopping it, just getting out of the way of it and praying it spared your property. Buildings were set ablaze, stores were being looted, innocent bystanders were being killed and there was nothing the authorities could do to stop it. I was scared out of my mind as Dad scurried down to the office with police escorts nearby and scrambled to toss whatever he could grab into his car. He got the hell out of there and quickly retreated to the safety of our home in Maplewood, wondering if he would ever again see the result of his years and years of hard work.

It was at this point that he came home with a gun. Apparently, there were all kinds of loopholes being done with the law to quickly get lots of licenses out to people that met the appropriate criteria, and that was simply being white. My dad had only one reason to get a gun, and that was fear. He was afraid the riots were not going to be contained to Newark and our town's defenses would fall as the marauding rioters would overrun our community. He would be damned if he was going to let anyone hurt our family. Still he harbored no animosity to the black community as a whole, only to the thugs and instigators who were destroying their own stores, homes and schools. He made it very clear to me that I should not judge an entire group of people by the actions of a few. Somehow, I was a little preoccupied with paralyzing fear to digest these words of wisdom at that time."

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