So many of you have been asking what it was like growing up with Ace? What our family life was like - did I know Ace would be a legend. I will try to answer all those questions by recounting some of the wonderful memories of our childhood. If you are expecting an expose - don't. I'm just going to tell you what it was like "Growing Up Frehley."

Chapter 8- More North Carolina

After spending the better part of a week driving Uncle Conny and Aunt Louise crazy, “Just kidding! the family would usually press on to the other side of town to spend a few days with our Mom’s other sister, Aunt Katie. She lived in this really cool old house on the main road. It was painted gray with a big porch that had a real porch swing that seated up to three people at a time. I remember Paul and I swinging the day away when it was too hot for anything else. About a quarter of a mile behind the house was a train track where endless freight trains would pass. I’m talking about one hundred cars or more. Back in those days, the late 50’s, freight trains were still a popular method of transporting goods around the country. I remember lying in bed at night, listening to the freight trains rumbling through the night, coupled with the sound of the tractor trailers rolling down the highway on the road about one hundred feet in front of the house. Between the house and the road were two rows of huge trees that were too big to climb. They completely covered the entire front yard with a canopy of shade, which really came in handy on those hot summer days.

This was a dairy farm, exclusively. Sometimes Paul and I would get involved in milking the cows. Aunt Katie’s son, Bill, ran the dairy operation, and lived across the road in a modern brick house with his wife and children. Paul and I would often visit and hang with them when we ran out of things to do by ourselves. But getting back to the milking - cousin Bill had a state of the art milking operation. The old milking stable housed a five thousand gallon stainless steel tank to collect and store the milk. All through the stable ran glass tubing from the vacuum powered milkers to the tank. There were four tubes connected with rubber tubing to a base that had a switch to turn the vacuum on and off. You would hold the base with one hand and turn it on. Then, with the other hand you would take each tube and guide the cow’s udder into the tube with your curled index finger. The suction would do the rest. When all the tubes were in place, the suction was enough to leave it hanging from the cow. Then, we would watch the glass tubing carry the milk on its way. Not bad for a couple of “City Slickers!”

Cousin Bill’s oldest son, Conrad, was in charge of the family’s prizewinning cow. To Paul and me it just looked like a big cow. It wasn’t until we once had an opportunity to attend one of the 4-H Club Fairs down in Raleigh, NC, that we saw how special she was. We traveled down to Raleigh in Cousin Bill’s early 50’s Chevy Pickup, with a trailed pulling our prizewinning beauty. What I remember most of all was how slow Cousin Bill drove. It was at least 60 miles to the fair, and I don’t think he broke 30 miles an hour the whole way. Thinking back, it probably made sense with the trailer and all. But Paul and I were used to riding in a car doing 50-60 mph. The trip seemed like it took forever! I don’t remember a lot of specifics about the fair, never having seen anything like it before. But one thing I do remember was the black and white beauty that we hauled all the way from Norlina, NC did, in fact, win “FIRST PRIZE”, like she always did. Conrad was so proud! Then we packed up and repeated the “slowest ride of our lives” for a second time!!!

Back at Aunt Katie’s house, dusk was always a very special time. That was when the “lightning bugs” came out! They were the same kind that is common even up in New York. There were just a lot of them, and Paul and I would have a blast catching them in big jars that Aunt Katie was always eager to donate. We used to think that if we caught enough of them, we could light up a whole room. That never worked out, but we had fun trying. Like I explained earlier, the front yard was completely shaded by huge trees, so that made the yard even duskier, which made the good old lightning bugs look even brighter. We would catch so many and afterwards just watch them glow until they got tired of glowing and we got tired of watching. Then we always released them and probably ended up catching the same ones the next night. It was another one of those magical moments.

One of the scariest moments we had at Aunt Katie’s house was when there was a really severe electrical storm one day. Again, being city kids, we always viewed these types of storms from the safety and security of a large brick apartment building. Aunt Katie’s house wasn’t so big and it wasn’t brick. It was made of wood and surrounded by huge trees that lightning usually loves. I guess we should have taken comfort in the fact that this house had been standing for the better part of one hundred years, but that didn’t seem to matter much when the lightning began hitting so close to the house that it sounded like a canon going off. We had never heard anything like it before. So, our boyish curiosity about watching the lightning very quickly turned to “WHERE ARE WE GOING TO HIDE!!!!!” We, of course, survived that hair raising adventure and in a couple of days began preparing for the last leg of our vacation, the trip down to New Bern, NC to visit my God Parents and my Mom’s brother, Otto, and his family. The story continues very soon, since I’m a couple of chapters behind.

Chapter 9- More Adventures!!

After spending about a week "on the farm", which was sometimes all Paul and I, the two "New York City Slickers", were able to stand, the family hit the road once again and headed south about a hundred miles or so to New Bern, North Carolina. Our Uncle Otto, Mom's brother, and Aunt Martha lived there in a really nice suburban home on Country Club Road. And "Yes", there really was a country club on the road. They are actually my God Parents. I knew that because on my birthday they would always send me a white dress shirt. "How many dress shirts can a kid possibly use in one lifetime?" Anyway, they were also parents to two children, our Cousins John and Elizabeth. Sister Nancy would hang out with Elizabeth and Paul, John and I were the "Three Musketeers", sort of… So, without a farm in sight, we of course had to find other things to do, which brings us to the aforementioned "Country Club"!!! John and the family were members, naturally, since it was just down the road. So, being the middle of the summer in the South there was really only one thing to do...HIT THE POOL!!!!!! It was only a short walk down the road and we spend lots of time there. John was a very good swimmer, able to swim over a mile, although I never saw him do it. But when you're ten you're easily impressed even without proof. This was really the only time that Paul and I ever got any consistent sunshine, hanging around the pool day after day. But, you know, when you get back from a vacation and you don't have a tan, "How cool is that?" So, we welcomed all the "fun in the sun", and had a great time playing in the pool with good old Cousin John, who was supposed to e-mail me some pictures of us taken during our visits. At this point, the only excuse I'm willing to accept is that "Aliens" abducted him. That would actually make a pretty cool Chapter 11:"Cousin John's Alien Abduction!!!!!" Maybe I could get Mulder out of retirement to head the investigation. (A little X-Files background music would be nice right about now.)

The water, I think a river, was not too far away and I remember the three of us once went "crabbing", that doesn't mean complaining, it means going to catch crabs, of course! And I was very surprised to learn that the bait used to catch them was none other than one of my favorite foods, chicken!!! We were on a pier with some chicken parts that we would tie to a fishing line. But it wasn't like fishing at all. It was more like lowering pieces of chicken in the water and watching them disappear. But low and behold, we'd pull the chicken back up and there was a crab holding on for dear life. Actually, if the crab had any kind of a brain, it would have been "letting go" for dear life! I think that after we finished, we probably let the crabs go anyway. Just more "Fun in the Sun"!

I also remember that once we were taken to the Cherry Point Air Force Base. But when we arrived, we didn't go to the base. Instead, we ended up in the parking lot in the middle of nowhere! I thought to myself, "Wow, what an exciting afternoon"! Then I was told to look in a certain direction. Far away I could see something approaching in the air. As it got closer I could see that it was a fighter jet. Then I suddenly realized that this "Nowhere" parking lot was at the foot of a runway!!! It looked like the fighter jet was coming right for us, and it actually passed about fifty feet over our heads with its engines roaring. It was definitely the coolest thing Paul and I had ever seen. Then another one came right behind it and another and another and another etc, etc, etc…we had such a great time!!!!!

The other thing that really sticks in my mind was the time that everyone went to dinner in Moorehead City, which was a good drive eastward to the Atlantic Coast, to an area known as Cape Hatteras. There was supposed to be a really good restaurant there. So, during the car trip our Aunt Martha had decided that she was going to train Sister Nancy and Cousin Elizabeth in the fine art of "Etiquette". She had brought a famous etiquette book along for the ride, the name of which escapes me right not. "Boy, is that surprising"! So, by the time we arrived, the two young ladies were supposed to be well schooled, and the dinner would be the "acid test". But hopefully, "it would taste a little better than that"! Anyway, the meal went great with lots of food and fun. But when some of us couldn't finish our food, the etiquette stuff went right out the window and we started passing food around which is a "Cardinal Sin" of etiquette. But, Hay, we couldn't waste food. Speaking of "out the window", I started looking out the window of the restaurant and everything was blowing around, a lot!!! It seems that someone was so concerned with "etiquette" that they forgot to check the weather report. We were on Cape Hatteras, out IN the Atlantic Ocean, and a good-sized hurricane was approaching. And I'm thinking to myself, "We risked our lives for Shrimp in the Basket"? No lie, when we came out of the restaurant, it was raining sideways and things were blowing around everywhere. "This was nuts"!!! The image that sticks in my mind is driving out of Moorehead City with everything blowing around and the traffic lights swaying back and forth in the hurricane force winds. Needless to say, after that experience, "I didn't eat shrimp for almost a year!!" (Just kidding!)

Next time, an experience that made Moorehead City seem like "Childs play."

Chapter 10- The Frehley’s Arctic Adventure

I just caught the weather report this morning and even though we are all well into the month of May, snowstorms are rocking the Northwest - just what I needed to put me in the mood to relive one of my favorite Frehley adventure stories. This will also be the last in the series of stories about North Carolina, though it’s been so much fun thinking about those wonderful days and being able to share some of the moments with all of you. This story isn’t so much about North Carolina as it is about getting out of North Carolina. This story is also a testament to my Dad’s skill, ingenuity and just plain guts where his family was concerned.

As I recall, it was December of 1963. The Four Seasons were singing their now famous song on the radio. Remember back then we didn’t have MP3. It was either buy the 45 or tune in! Anyway, my cousin Elsie, daughter of my dear Aunt Louise and Uncle Connie, (remember from previous chapters) was about to be married. Up until this time, we had only visited during the summer months, and as fate would have it, we were going to pay dearly for this particular winter excursion. It was to be a quick weekend trip - so my parents got Nancy, Paul and me excused from school on Friday, our travel day, so we could be there for the Saturday wedding. I don’t remember much about the specifics of the wedding. Back in those days kids were rarely seen and never heard. It was always about the big folks. So, Paul and I probably just blended in as usual. I’m sure we had a lot of fun, but the one thing that sticks in my mind was hearing that as a prank, some of Elsie’s friends (that’s debatable) managed to put manure (for you City Folks that means cow shit) into some of the luggage of our newlyweds. You know, After 39 years, it still grosses me out! But hay, what do I know? I’m no expert on down home Southern humor. But actually, everyone seemed to get a big kick out of it, save our newlyweds!

So the wedding came and went in one short whirlwind kind of a day. But the next morning, I remember like it was yesterday, we were sitting at the dining room table at Aunt Louise’s and Uncle Connie’s house listening to the radio. The story the weatherman was telling wasn’t pretty. It seems a giant SNOWSTORM was heading up the Eastern Seaboard. We, of course, had planned to leave for New York right after Church, but extreme situations sometimes call for drastic measures!!! So, we through all our belongings in the car and burned rubber!!!! Dad let Mom, who loved to drive, take the first leg of our nearly 500 mile journey that lay before us, knowing that later on in the day, it would probably take every ounce of his aforementioned skill and ingenuity to get his family home.

So, there we were, five desperate New Yorkers, with our eyes fixed on the long road ahead and our ears anxiously awaiting every weather update we could find on the radio. Paul and I were having a ball in the back seat. The anticipation of the adventure that was about to unfold in the coming hours was almost enough to make us explode, which would have made an even more disgusting mess than putting manure in our luggage, if that’s possible.

I can still vividly recall us driving through Richmond, Virginia on an elevated stretch of highway. We drove through a short tunnel, and when we came out on the other side we saw the very first SNOWFLAKE which didn’t seem like much of a problem. Unfortunately, this one snowflake brought lots of friends!

We had completed only about 20% of our journey and the storm had already caught up to us. Obviously, exceeding the speed limit had not been enough. But fear not, loyal fans, out Dad had a few tricks up his sleeve.

We had been on the road for a few hours by now when we stopped at a gas station in Rocky Mount, a town not too far North of Richmond. Dad always had a set of tire chains in the trunk just for these kinds of emergencies. I can still picture the old style service station with the snow piling up all around it. They put our car on the lift and quickly attached the chains to both rear tires. They did it quickly because Dad kept mentioning how he had to get his family BACK TO NEW YORK! in no uncertain terms. He was a Man on a Mission.

Back in those days, there was no I-95 Interstate Highway to get us home. Much of the trip was on simple two-lane, meaning one lane in each direction, roads, which under normal circumstances were problematic. In the middle of a raging snowstorm you can just imagine, but you won’t have to because I’m here to tell you exactly what happened. They say reality is better than fiction? How many shows have you seen lately that are hosted by former Survivor Stars? I rest my case. Anyway, our desperate band of travelers now somewhere in Maryland on a two-lane road in a raging snowstorm arrives at a huge hill, maybe a mini mountain, and STOPPED DEAD! What we saw in front of us was our little two-lane road stretching straight up this very long hill completely filled with stranded vehicles. Had Dad not been able to deal with this incredible situation, we probably would have ended up living in Maryland, since it appeared that no one was ever getting out of here. But remember, behind the wheel was our DAD, and he was on his aforementioned MISSION! So, he got out of the car and went over to the State Troopers that had assembled at this traffic disaster, of sorts, and just like with the guy at the service station, Dad began explaining how he had to get his family back to New York in this raging snowstorm no matter what. I’m sure he shared the prevailing opinion in the car which was, We don’t want to spend the rest of our lives in Maryland! So, as unbelievable as it my sound , the State Trooper suggested that we could all risk our lives by trying to squeeze around the scores of vehicles that are stranded on this long hill. It seems that this road had a very narrow shoulder that dropped off into what can only be described as an abyss. No kidding, the trooper really suggested this, but only because we were equipped with our trusty tire chains and were obviously desperate New Yorkers who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Paul and I had our faces glued to the window as Dad ever so carefully drove up along the shoulder. I guess he and I wanted a really good view of us tumbling into the abyss if, in fact, it did happen. But our Dad pulled it off, and once we got beyond the hill it was clear sailing, if for no other reason than we were the only car that made it through.

The snow kept falling heavier and heavier, but the roads were being plowed and were passable. We finally reached the southern end of the New Jersey Turnpike after dark. It was the home stretch, as long as they didn’t close it down. So, we pushed right on through, Dad doing all the driving himself. By this time Paul and I could hardly keep our eyes open. I remember waking a few times and seeing Dad steadfast at the wheel, determined to get us home. We found out later that the Turnpike was closed about a half hour after we got to the northern end. Those still on the Turnpike had to exit into service areas and sleep in the booths in the restaurants. We, on the other hand, made our way to our neighborhood in the Bronx with snow piling up everywhere. There just happened to be an empty parking space right on the corner that Dad plowed the car into. It remained there for days under seventeen inches of the white stuff.