I often wonder about the logistical inconsistencies when a religion espouses “You will be with all your loved ones in Heaven”. I know that religion is based on faith in a great unknown, so logic probably has no place in it, but think about it. In my case, for example, I have loved my mother and father as well as my wife. My wife did not particularly like my mother. I assume my wife loves me. She loved her mother. I did not. Are we each consigned to eternity with mother-in-laws we didn’t like in order to be together in Heaven? If someone can explain this to me I’d sure appreciate it. Please don’t hit me with the standard “mystery of faith” dogma.
I have a habit of slipping into alternate personalities. I’m not talking Sybil type psychosis. I know full well that these characters are not real. They serve a very useful purpose for me though. I believe that all people have many facets to their makeup, including things they might not like to admit to themselves, such as the fact that they are lazy, or callous, or a bigot. I’m not saying that these characteristics define them, but they feel guilty for having them at all. Therefore, when they see a group of young black males together, and they grip their purse a little tighter, or if they see a Muslim at the airport and watch them carefully even though they might be with their 80 year old grandmother and their two small children, they deal with all sorts of conflicting emotions. I, on the other hand, have developed personalities that I allow to say the things and feel the things that I, as myself, would never say. For example, I have recently developed a personality I call Cooter, who is a profane and politically incorrect guy from Texas. If an Asian cuts me off in traffic Cooter will likely say, “Them damn Asians can’t drive worth a shit!” It allows me to vent my rage and bigotry and blame HIM.
I have been thinking lately that it is absolutely futile for science fiction writers and movie producers to show us their interpretation of what aliens look or act like. If there are forces from outer space, surely they are superior in intelligence and accomplishment to what we have on earth. It doesn’t make sense to me that we can conjure up an image of these aliens when we are constricted by what we can only imagine from our earthly constraints.
Lately I’ve been noticing that I miss my father’s bad puns. He would make up something he thought was very clever in response to something either my mother, brother, or I would say and then look at us and go, “That was a nifty, wasn’t it?” Usually, it wasn’t. Every once in a while, with the regularity of a stopped clock, he would actually come up with a “nifty”. For a long time I have enjoyed putting two famous people together in holy matrimony to match their names together. For example, if actress Tuesday Weld married actor Hal March III, she’d be Tuesday March the third. As far as I know both of these people are dead now, the last sighting of either one being her appearance in “Cry Baby” back in the 1980’s. Still, you get the idea. Well I’ve been doing it a bit lately. It doesn’t make any difference if the person is real or not, just as long as the names go together. When I do this, my respect for my father’s bad puns grows tremendously, as my names are about as corny as they can get.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
My Favorite Events
One of the things I like most about working outside of an office is my drive to and from a church each day. Last week I drove back and forth from Indianapolis to Batesville, Indiana, about 70 miles each way. It’s an easy interstate drive and well within my parameters as to whether or not I will stay overnight.
During my drives, my thoughts can range from the mundane, such as what I might like to have for lunch that day, to the profound, such as God, religion, and patriotism. Sometimes I think of pretty silly things and sometimes I think serious things. This week I spent one entire drive thinking about the greatest events to which I have ever been. I’m talking sports, music, political, civic, whatever. I recall so many different concerts. I remember going to baseball games at Ebbets Field and Yankee Stadium with my brother and dad, going to basketball games with my brother at Madison Sq. Garden, and so many concerts I can’t even begin to mention them all. Some of them do stand out though.
I remember going to the Fillmore East with my friend Christine Marotta when we were both home from college and seeing Jefferson Airplane and The Doors in concert. Jim Morrison wore these tight black leather pants and I was taken by not only how many girls were licking their lips for him but also how many guys were.
I went to see The James Gang in concert in Cincinnati once. Their opening act was Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, who were on their first American tour. For those of you too young to remember them, James Gang was Joe Walsh of The Eagles first group and they were from Cleveland. They were a very enjoyable three guitar and a drum band with a country rock feel. E, L, P was from England and were all classically trained musicians. They used gongs, bass drums, and especially a Moog Synthesizer, which is now common place but at that time was a novelty. Emerson, Lake, and Palmer came out first with a wall of equipment, Hammond Church Organs, Synthesizers, and blew the crowd away. The poor James Gang seemed so bland after that that people were booing and walking out. I felt bad for them.
My favorite concert experience though was my senior year of college. I was eating lunch in the cafeteria on a Friday when my friend Tom came up. He said that some bands we liked were playing in St. Louis both that night and Saturday night. On an absolute spur of the moment, we got in his old VW bus and went. We got to St. Louis too late to catch The Steve Miller Band and Quicksilver at Kiel Auditorium on Friday. We wound up driving to the parking lot at Washington U. in St. Louis to sleep in his bus. Somehow we befriended some students who invited us to the dorms to party and we had a great time. Saturday we went to the zoo, dropped some acid, and went to see Jethro Tull in concert. Tull was releasing their masterpiece “Aqualung” that week, but nobody had ever heard it. Between the acid, the band’s intensity for the fresh music, and the greatness of the music itself, it was my favorite concert. DISCLAIMER: THIS WAS OVER 40 YEARS AGO AND WAS THE LAST TIME I TOOK LSD. I STRONGLY DISAPPROVE USE OF HALLUCINOGENS.
I would most likely have gone to Woodstock, as I was only three weeks and less than 100 miles away, and my friend Christine would have gone, but my brother and I had the opportunity to go to Mexico instead. I have no regrets about that.
Interestingly enough, depending on whether you find any of this interesting, I came up with my three favorite events attended of all time and not one of them has to do with music or concerts. Actually, I’ve come to hate going to concerts, as I find the hassle of the crowd, parking, and stupid, drunk people a turn off. I will go to the symphony or to a small club, but try to avoid venues that seat thousands. The three events that have remained fondly in my memory the most are my trip with my brother to the Kentucky Derby in 1968, The Washington Moratorium against the Viet Nam war in November, 1969, and my personal favorite, the NCAA college basketball regional in 1996 which I went to with daughter Jana.
The Derby trip with my brother was a classic case of everything going right for us. Andy was in graduate school in Pittsburgh and I was in my last semester at Wilmington College in Wilmington, Ohio prior to transferring to Transylvania University in Lexington, KY. Andy came down to Wilmington on Thursday, stayed with me, and then we headed off to Louisville on Friday. We had no idea of where we would sleep, probably his car, and figured we’d be among the throngs in the infield. As we drove down, we wound up following a car with NY license plates. We also had NY plates. We followed each other through Ohio and Kentucky and finally pulled off for some coffee and to chat with them. It turned out that the other car had a beautiful young woman and a very friendly and nice guy as its occupants. We told them we were going to the Derby and they said they were as well. The guy said he was staying at his old fraternity house and he would see if they could put us up for the night. The frat guys were great and put us up in a decent room and took us out to a bar with them. In the morning the guy from NY who fixed us up with the room pulled us aside to tell us that the girl he was with, who was just a friend, was the daughter of one of the producers of the Derby for CBS. He gave us Grandstand tickets. So we went from no place to stay and no place to sit to being comfortably taken care of. At the Derby, my horse, Dancer’s Image, won and paid a decent amount. The next day he was disqualified for illegal medication but we were long gone by then. In the race after the Derby I bet on a tremendous long shot (RIP, Al’s Birthday!) which came in first. I remember the pay off being enough for Andy and I to have a really good dinner. The bottom line was free tickets and free room and board for the Kentucky Derby. That’s hard to beat.
As for the moratorium against the war, I have never been involved with something that big before or since. About 12 or so people from my college drove to Washington and stayed with the family of one of our protesters. On Saturday morning we marched across the bridge from Arlington into Washington. It was almost surreal. The estimates range from 300,000 to over a million people in attendance. I remember armed policemen watching us from the roof tops. I also remember a few of them giving us the peace sign. When we passed the White House, I noticed it was circled bumper to bumper by city buses so no one could try to climb the fences. We heard music from Peter, Paul, and Mary, speeches by the Reverends Berrigan and Dr. Spock. At one point I got lost and found myself too near the FBI building which some more radical protesters were trying to invade. Tear gas from the riot police drifted the one block to where I was standing. As I was coughing and tearing up, a very nice cop came up to me and led me to a trailer the police had and washed my eyes out. He knew I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We left on Sunday, and about 100 miles into the drive back there was an impromptu peace rally going on along the interstate. Hundreds of protesters had abandoned their cars, climbed a hill alongside the highway, and formed a huge peace sign. We stayed like that for about ½ hour before the highway patrol came in force to remove us. We all left peacefully.
My favorite all time experience was with my daughter Jana during her senior year of high school. She was a fantastic student and kid, a Merit Scholar, top 10 in her class, etc. She had been fixated on Duke University’s basketball program since she was 12 years old and had a huge crush on Christian Laettner, one of their stars. After he graduated she would find new favorites. She developed a major attraction to one player in particular, Chris Collins. I suspect she would go into her room at night and write “Jana Collins” over and over in her notebook. At this time, we were in serious financial difficulty and couldn’t really afford many treats, but when we found out the regional was going to be in Indianapolis, three hours away, and Duke was going to be in it, I knew she had to go. We got tickets for both the Thursday and Saturday sessions, six games in all. I let her cut school on Thursday and I took off from work. We packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinks so we didn’t pay concession stand prices. The games were great. A guy behind us was a former player for some college I can’t remember and he had a blast teasing Jana about Duke in general and Chris Collins especially. He’d tell her he’d heard that Collins had just signed a major shoe deal with Florsheim, a maker of dress shoes. The spirit of the crowd, there to root on eight different universities, was unbelievable. Duke was upset by Eastern Michigan in the afternoon session on Thursday and Jana was heartbroken, but we left after the game and walked over to Duke’s hotel. After 30 minutes or so their bus pulled up and she got to meet Chris Collins and Coach K and get their autographs and pictures. They were very gracious considering they had just lost and Collins’ collegiate career was now over. It was a thrill I know Jana has never forgotten. That evening we got to see Princeton University upset defending national champions UCLA. The crowd was absolutely hysterical rooting for Princeton and we were crazy right along with them. We drove home late at night. We went back on Saturday for the final two games, which was fun, but nothing topped the time we had on Thursday. I think the fact that I got to spend a very special time with my daughter makes it number one.
Hope this hasn’t bored you.
During my drives, my thoughts can range from the mundane, such as what I might like to have for lunch that day, to the profound, such as God, religion, and patriotism. Sometimes I think of pretty silly things and sometimes I think serious things. This week I spent one entire drive thinking about the greatest events to which I have ever been. I’m talking sports, music, political, civic, whatever. I recall so many different concerts. I remember going to baseball games at Ebbets Field and Yankee Stadium with my brother and dad, going to basketball games with my brother at Madison Sq. Garden, and so many concerts I can’t even begin to mention them all. Some of them do stand out though.
I remember going to the Fillmore East with my friend Christine Marotta when we were both home from college and seeing Jefferson Airplane and The Doors in concert. Jim Morrison wore these tight black leather pants and I was taken by not only how many girls were licking their lips for him but also how many guys were.
I went to see The James Gang in concert in Cincinnati once. Their opening act was Emerson, Lake, and Palmer, who were on their first American tour. For those of you too young to remember them, James Gang was Joe Walsh of The Eagles first group and they were from Cleveland. They were a very enjoyable three guitar and a drum band with a country rock feel. E, L, P was from England and were all classically trained musicians. They used gongs, bass drums, and especially a Moog Synthesizer, which is now common place but at that time was a novelty. Emerson, Lake, and Palmer came out first with a wall of equipment, Hammond Church Organs, Synthesizers, and blew the crowd away. The poor James Gang seemed so bland after that that people were booing and walking out. I felt bad for them.
My favorite concert experience though was my senior year of college. I was eating lunch in the cafeteria on a Friday when my friend Tom came up. He said that some bands we liked were playing in St. Louis both that night and Saturday night. On an absolute spur of the moment, we got in his old VW bus and went. We got to St. Louis too late to catch The Steve Miller Band and Quicksilver at Kiel Auditorium on Friday. We wound up driving to the parking lot at Washington U. in St. Louis to sleep in his bus. Somehow we befriended some students who invited us to the dorms to party and we had a great time. Saturday we went to the zoo, dropped some acid, and went to see Jethro Tull in concert. Tull was releasing their masterpiece “Aqualung” that week, but nobody had ever heard it. Between the acid, the band’s intensity for the fresh music, and the greatness of the music itself, it was my favorite concert. DISCLAIMER: THIS WAS OVER 40 YEARS AGO AND WAS THE LAST TIME I TOOK LSD. I STRONGLY DISAPPROVE USE OF HALLUCINOGENS.
I would most likely have gone to Woodstock, as I was only three weeks and less than 100 miles away, and my friend Christine would have gone, but my brother and I had the opportunity to go to Mexico instead. I have no regrets about that.
Interestingly enough, depending on whether you find any of this interesting, I came up with my three favorite events attended of all time and not one of them has to do with music or concerts. Actually, I’ve come to hate going to concerts, as I find the hassle of the crowd, parking, and stupid, drunk people a turn off. I will go to the symphony or to a small club, but try to avoid venues that seat thousands. The three events that have remained fondly in my memory the most are my trip with my brother to the Kentucky Derby in 1968, The Washington Moratorium against the Viet Nam war in November, 1969, and my personal favorite, the NCAA college basketball regional in 1996 which I went to with daughter Jana.
The Derby trip with my brother was a classic case of everything going right for us. Andy was in graduate school in Pittsburgh and I was in my last semester at Wilmington College in Wilmington, Ohio prior to transferring to Transylvania University in Lexington, KY. Andy came down to Wilmington on Thursday, stayed with me, and then we headed off to Louisville on Friday. We had no idea of where we would sleep, probably his car, and figured we’d be among the throngs in the infield. As we drove down, we wound up following a car with NY license plates. We also had NY plates. We followed each other through Ohio and Kentucky and finally pulled off for some coffee and to chat with them. It turned out that the other car had a beautiful young woman and a very friendly and nice guy as its occupants. We told them we were going to the Derby and they said they were as well. The guy said he was staying at his old fraternity house and he would see if they could put us up for the night. The frat guys were great and put us up in a decent room and took us out to a bar with them. In the morning the guy from NY who fixed us up with the room pulled us aside to tell us that the girl he was with, who was just a friend, was the daughter of one of the producers of the Derby for CBS. He gave us Grandstand tickets. So we went from no place to stay and no place to sit to being comfortably taken care of. At the Derby, my horse, Dancer’s Image, won and paid a decent amount. The next day he was disqualified for illegal medication but we were long gone by then. In the race after the Derby I bet on a tremendous long shot (RIP, Al’s Birthday!) which came in first. I remember the pay off being enough for Andy and I to have a really good dinner. The bottom line was free tickets and free room and board for the Kentucky Derby. That’s hard to beat.
As for the moratorium against the war, I have never been involved with something that big before or since. About 12 or so people from my college drove to Washington and stayed with the family of one of our protesters. On Saturday morning we marched across the bridge from Arlington into Washington. It was almost surreal. The estimates range from 300,000 to over a million people in attendance. I remember armed policemen watching us from the roof tops. I also remember a few of them giving us the peace sign. When we passed the White House, I noticed it was circled bumper to bumper by city buses so no one could try to climb the fences. We heard music from Peter, Paul, and Mary, speeches by the Reverends Berrigan and Dr. Spock. At one point I got lost and found myself too near the FBI building which some more radical protesters were trying to invade. Tear gas from the riot police drifted the one block to where I was standing. As I was coughing and tearing up, a very nice cop came up to me and led me to a trailer the police had and washed my eyes out. He knew I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We left on Sunday, and about 100 miles into the drive back there was an impromptu peace rally going on along the interstate. Hundreds of protesters had abandoned their cars, climbed a hill alongside the highway, and formed a huge peace sign. We stayed like that for about ½ hour before the highway patrol came in force to remove us. We all left peacefully.
My favorite all time experience was with my daughter Jana during her senior year of high school. She was a fantastic student and kid, a Merit Scholar, top 10 in her class, etc. She had been fixated on Duke University’s basketball program since she was 12 years old and had a huge crush on Christian Laettner, one of their stars. After he graduated she would find new favorites. She developed a major attraction to one player in particular, Chris Collins. I suspect she would go into her room at night and write “Jana Collins” over and over in her notebook. At this time, we were in serious financial difficulty and couldn’t really afford many treats, but when we found out the regional was going to be in Indianapolis, three hours away, and Duke was going to be in it, I knew she had to go. We got tickets for both the Thursday and Saturday sessions, six games in all. I let her cut school on Thursday and I took off from work. We packed peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinks so we didn’t pay concession stand prices. The games were great. A guy behind us was a former player for some college I can’t remember and he had a blast teasing Jana about Duke in general and Chris Collins especially. He’d tell her he’d heard that Collins had just signed a major shoe deal with Florsheim, a maker of dress shoes. The spirit of the crowd, there to root on eight different universities, was unbelievable. Duke was upset by Eastern Michigan in the afternoon session on Thursday and Jana was heartbroken, but we left after the game and walked over to Duke’s hotel. After 30 minutes or so their bus pulled up and she got to meet Chris Collins and Coach K and get their autographs and pictures. They were very gracious considering they had just lost and Collins’ collegiate career was now over. It was a thrill I know Jana has never forgotten. That evening we got to see Princeton University upset defending national champions UCLA. The crowd was absolutely hysterical rooting for Princeton and we were crazy right along with them. We drove home late at night. We went back on Saturday for the final two games, which was fun, but nothing topped the time we had on Thursday. I think the fact that I got to spend a very special time with my daughter makes it number one.
Hope this hasn’t bored you.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
I'm a Proud Papa
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what terrific children I have. I wish that all parents felt that way about their kids, but I know that that’s not the case. Fortunately most of the people I am close to have done a wonderful job of raising their kids and they have wonderful children to show for it. The purpose of this post is to let you know why I think my kids are great…I would love to hear you tell me the same about your kids.
I honestly believe that my kids turned out great as much in spite of me as due to me. I never felt committed to any job…I never had a passion for sales. It was something I backed into because I have a natural gift with people…not because I wanted to sell! I am the living embodiment of John Lennon’s warning that “life happens while you’re busy making other plans”. As such, I chased every opportunity and whim which appealed to me at the time. We moved seven times throughout their childhood. They were denied the opportunity so many other kids have to make life long best friends. They had to fit in new surroundings time and time again. In my younger son Jeff’s case, he had to move in his freshman year of high school from an all white high school in Indiana to a school in south Texas which was 87% Hispanic. Talk about culture shock. Yet they have all succeeded beyond my wildest expectations. The only possible explanation is the tremendous job Kathie has done in being their mother. So, if you will bear with me, let me tell you about my kids. If you don’t want to bear with me…see you next post.
My oldest, daughter Jana, has always been a driven and focused girl, now woman. She was the kind of girl that when she was about eleven she enrolled in Red Cross babysitting classes to prepare for future opportunities. She was a National Merit Scholar. Knowing we would have a hard time paying for college, she managed to get a tuition paid scholarship to Bradley University and became a dorm resident counselor so that three of her years were also board free. She graduated from Bradley Summa Cum Laude. Her original major was education but then she met Chad and changed her major to Chad Hennessy. Since he is the best son in law you could want I have no complaints. Jana and Chad have two beautiful sons, Griffin and Cooper, and are adopting a daughter from Ethiopia, Gabrielle. Jana sometimes says that she thinks she is shallow, but in my opinion their commitment to saving a child from a much harsher life is about as non shallow as you can get.
My oldest son Dan is a man who has followed his own course through life. Some of it, especially in his earlier years, was rough on him. He wasn’t blessed with a natural talent for sports which as any boy knows is a great way to build status. He is extremely bright with an unusually insightful perspective of the world which in some cases has marginalized him from the mainstream. Yet he has always been true to himself. He knew that he wanted to observe the world and write about it and make a living doing it. He knew that going to college wasn’t for him so he dropped out during his first semester. I have watched with tremendous pride as he has evolved from writing poetry that he would read in front of five people in a campus bookstore to a nationally recognized writer. His perspective has changed and mellowed with age and he is no longer the cynic he was in his younger days. This week his article on the tornado damage in Alabama will be published nationally in “Parade” magazine. He has written for The Onion, AOL, Spin Magazine, and MTV. And he’s done it all his way. And he says that he is glad his childhood was tough…he feels he wouldn’t be the same person without having gone through it.
My youngest son Jeff is a man who detests change of any kind and yet he has done a remarkable job of handling it. Jeff was forced to move to McAllen, Texas, three miles from the Mexico border, right at the beginning of his freshman year of high school. He had already had to move from Florida to Nebraska to Indiana. Now he had to leave Indiana and an all white school to go to a school and live in a community that was 88% Hispanic and 1500 miles from where he’d been. I’m not saying it was easy for him, but gradually he adjusted and made some of the best friends he has. They are still his friends to this day. Jeff was determined to go away to college so he financed his own loans and worked as a waiter at Olive Garden to help pay the bills. He moved up to waiter in an upscale restaurant after a little while and moved up from there to assistant manager. For the past five years he has been the general manager of one of the more exclusive restaurants in the north Dallas suburbs. I’m not saying it’s expensive…but Kathie and my tip is usually more than what we pay for dinner! He does an amazing job and sometimes I find it hard to believe my baby is all grown up and capable of running such an establishment. He is also a Certified Sommelier (wine expert) so he truly knows his stuff. He’s married to a beautiful girl and has our granddaughter Ella, who just turned two, and they are expecting their next child in November. They are hoping for a boy so they can give him the middle name “Danger”…”my middle name is Danger”. How cool is that?
OK...now it's your turn.
I honestly believe that my kids turned out great as much in spite of me as due to me. I never felt committed to any job…I never had a passion for sales. It was something I backed into because I have a natural gift with people…not because I wanted to sell! I am the living embodiment of John Lennon’s warning that “life happens while you’re busy making other plans”. As such, I chased every opportunity and whim which appealed to me at the time. We moved seven times throughout their childhood. They were denied the opportunity so many other kids have to make life long best friends. They had to fit in new surroundings time and time again. In my younger son Jeff’s case, he had to move in his freshman year of high school from an all white high school in Indiana to a school in south Texas which was 87% Hispanic. Talk about culture shock. Yet they have all succeeded beyond my wildest expectations. The only possible explanation is the tremendous job Kathie has done in being their mother. So, if you will bear with me, let me tell you about my kids. If you don’t want to bear with me…see you next post.
My oldest, daughter Jana, has always been a driven and focused girl, now woman. She was the kind of girl that when she was about eleven she enrolled in Red Cross babysitting classes to prepare for future opportunities. She was a National Merit Scholar. Knowing we would have a hard time paying for college, she managed to get a tuition paid scholarship to Bradley University and became a dorm resident counselor so that three of her years were also board free. She graduated from Bradley Summa Cum Laude. Her original major was education but then she met Chad and changed her major to Chad Hennessy. Since he is the best son in law you could want I have no complaints. Jana and Chad have two beautiful sons, Griffin and Cooper, and are adopting a daughter from Ethiopia, Gabrielle. Jana sometimes says that she thinks she is shallow, but in my opinion their commitment to saving a child from a much harsher life is about as non shallow as you can get.
My oldest son Dan is a man who has followed his own course through life. Some of it, especially in his earlier years, was rough on him. He wasn’t blessed with a natural talent for sports which as any boy knows is a great way to build status. He is extremely bright with an unusually insightful perspective of the world which in some cases has marginalized him from the mainstream. Yet he has always been true to himself. He knew that he wanted to observe the world and write about it and make a living doing it. He knew that going to college wasn’t for him so he dropped out during his first semester. I have watched with tremendous pride as he has evolved from writing poetry that he would read in front of five people in a campus bookstore to a nationally recognized writer. His perspective has changed and mellowed with age and he is no longer the cynic he was in his younger days. This week his article on the tornado damage in Alabama will be published nationally in “Parade” magazine. He has written for The Onion, AOL, Spin Magazine, and MTV. And he’s done it all his way. And he says that he is glad his childhood was tough…he feels he wouldn’t be the same person without having gone through it.
My youngest son Jeff is a man who detests change of any kind and yet he has done a remarkable job of handling it. Jeff was forced to move to McAllen, Texas, three miles from the Mexico border, right at the beginning of his freshman year of high school. He had already had to move from Florida to Nebraska to Indiana. Now he had to leave Indiana and an all white school to go to a school and live in a community that was 88% Hispanic and 1500 miles from where he’d been. I’m not saying it was easy for him, but gradually he adjusted and made some of the best friends he has. They are still his friends to this day. Jeff was determined to go away to college so he financed his own loans and worked as a waiter at Olive Garden to help pay the bills. He moved up to waiter in an upscale restaurant after a little while and moved up from there to assistant manager. For the past five years he has been the general manager of one of the more exclusive restaurants in the north Dallas suburbs. I’m not saying it’s expensive…but Kathie and my tip is usually more than what we pay for dinner! He does an amazing job and sometimes I find it hard to believe my baby is all grown up and capable of running such an establishment. He is also a Certified Sommelier (wine expert) so he truly knows his stuff. He’s married to a beautiful girl and has our granddaughter Ella, who just turned two, and they are expecting their next child in November. They are hoping for a boy so they can give him the middle name “Danger”…”my middle name is Danger”. How cool is that?
OK...now it's your turn.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Thoughts on my job.
I haven’t written anything in my blog recently because I’ve been depressed. My job, which for several years has been the best one I have ever had, has not been nearly as enjoyable lately. It’s a long story and I won’t go into it. The interesting thing is that it is still the best job I’ve ever had, even if it isn’t half as good as it was. I don’t know if that’s a testimonial to the job or an indictment of the previous ones I’ve had.
I sell advertising on the back of weekly church bulletins, primarily Catholic churches, in Indiana and Kentucky, with an occasional trip to Illinois. I go to a different church every week and use their office to call businesses in the area to place an ad on the bulletin. There are usually anywhere from 40 to 120 spaces for ads on the bulletin. They cost from $300 to $495 per year. It is not a small business. The good part is that as I am calling from the church I don’t encounter the hostility the normal sales person would. I still encounter the same rejection. One thing I have always found ironic is that I am a man of Jewish descent selling Catholic products in Baptist country. It must work though…I celebrated my seven year anniversary this week.
As I sell for churches, I have to be very careful in the types of businesses I call on. I can’t have strip clubs or abortion clinics as advertisers. I have a policy for example that I will not allow bars to advertise unless they also serve food. This once led to one of the funnier incidents I’ve had in my job. I was in Kansas City one week working at a Catholic church and was having a miserable week. I was getting rejected at a higher rate than I have in quite awhile. I called a bar listed in the yellow pages and got hold of the owner. I went through my pitch about the benefits of church bulletin advertising. After I finished he told me he was not interested as he didn’t think his business was appropriate for a Catholic church. Frustrated, I asked why. He told me that it was a gay bar. Undaunted by any religious reservations, I boldly inquired, “Do you serve food?”…didn’t sell him an ad.
My very favorite experience in my job though was different in nature. I was working at a very small Catholic church in a Kentucky town right along the Tennessee border. Sometimes when I work at really small churches they will meet me on Monday morning, give me a key, and then come by on Thursday afternoon to pick it up. I will be the only one at the church. This particular church was so small that it had the church proper and just a combination office and confessional in a room off of it. I was working in the room one afternoon when a young woman came in. She wanted to have her confession heard and, mistaking me for the priest, was hoping I could hear it. I was taken by surprise, but for a second I must admit that the idea of role playing was very interested. The pervert in me wanted to say, “Now tell me all about the things you’ve done…make sure you don’t leave out ANYTHING.” The Jew in me felt like saying, “Listen, we’re having a special…one sin for one Hail Mary, five sins for three Hail Mary’s”. Fortunately the sane part of me took hold and I told her how to contact the priest.
I sell advertising on the back of weekly church bulletins, primarily Catholic churches, in Indiana and Kentucky, with an occasional trip to Illinois. I go to a different church every week and use their office to call businesses in the area to place an ad on the bulletin. There are usually anywhere from 40 to 120 spaces for ads on the bulletin. They cost from $300 to $495 per year. It is not a small business. The good part is that as I am calling from the church I don’t encounter the hostility the normal sales person would. I still encounter the same rejection. One thing I have always found ironic is that I am a man of Jewish descent selling Catholic products in Baptist country. It must work though…I celebrated my seven year anniversary this week.
As I sell for churches, I have to be very careful in the types of businesses I call on. I can’t have strip clubs or abortion clinics as advertisers. I have a policy for example that I will not allow bars to advertise unless they also serve food. This once led to one of the funnier incidents I’ve had in my job. I was in Kansas City one week working at a Catholic church and was having a miserable week. I was getting rejected at a higher rate than I have in quite awhile. I called a bar listed in the yellow pages and got hold of the owner. I went through my pitch about the benefits of church bulletin advertising. After I finished he told me he was not interested as he didn’t think his business was appropriate for a Catholic church. Frustrated, I asked why. He told me that it was a gay bar. Undaunted by any religious reservations, I boldly inquired, “Do you serve food?”…didn’t sell him an ad.
My very favorite experience in my job though was different in nature. I was working at a very small Catholic church in a Kentucky town right along the Tennessee border. Sometimes when I work at really small churches they will meet me on Monday morning, give me a key, and then come by on Thursday afternoon to pick it up. I will be the only one at the church. This particular church was so small that it had the church proper and just a combination office and confessional in a room off of it. I was working in the room one afternoon when a young woman came in. She wanted to have her confession heard and, mistaking me for the priest, was hoping I could hear it. I was taken by surprise, but for a second I must admit that the idea of role playing was very interested. The pervert in me wanted to say, “Now tell me all about the things you’ve done…make sure you don’t leave out ANYTHING.” The Jew in me felt like saying, “Listen, we’re having a special…one sin for one Hail Mary, five sins for three Hail Mary’s”. Fortunately the sane part of me took hold and I told her how to contact the priest.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Only One For The Rest of Your Life
Today on my drive to Louisville I was thinking about what it would be like if I was only allowed one thing in a category for the rest of my life. For example, if I could only eat one food for the rest of my life, what would it be? Some of the categories I came up with were:
1. If I could only have one source of entertainment, would I choose a video store, a book store, or a music store? Though I love all three, I can only have one. For some people I know it would be an easy choice. My brother Andy, a professor of English Literature, would no doubt choose the book store. My friends Jerry Marotta and Roma Prindle, both professional musicians, would choose the music store. I on the other hand am blessed with no talent. Therefore it takes more thought. I decided that, like my brother, I would choose books. I love TV, but if it was the only thing I could do I think I would go more insane than I presently am.
2. If I could drink only one beverage for the rest of my life it would no doubt be coffee. I’m not talking sissy shit half decaf, high foam lattes with flavors. I’m talking a serious cup of Joe. Somewhere along the line I became a coffee addict, followed after by a love of fine coffee. I order my beans green from all over the world and roast them myself. I am one of those pretentious prigs who say stuff like, “the Africans produce a bold flavor, but the acidity is somewhat off-putting. I prefer the more mellow overtones of the South American, especially the Brazilian.”
3. If I could watch only one sport for the rest of my life it would be baseball. Baseball was my first love. I went to baseball camp for 11 summers. I played Little League. I would have played in high school but my bat developed an aversion to the ball. I was better at football and basketball but didn’t love them as much. In my macho 20’s and 30’s football became my favorite. I’ve found that as I have gotten older and slower the pace of baseball suits me better. I like the fact that each pitch is a separate act that allows enough time between them to contemplate the situation of the moment.
4. If I could eat any one food for the rest of my life I would eat Bran. Nah, I’m just kiddin’ ya! I know, and anybody who knows me knows, that I will commit crimes against nature if it meant I could have an Oreo cookie. Oreo’s are God’s perfect food!
By the time I had finished these first four, my drive to Louisville was over, so I didn’t have a chance to ponder other categories. What would your choices be?
1. If I could only have one source of entertainment, would I choose a video store, a book store, or a music store? Though I love all three, I can only have one. For some people I know it would be an easy choice. My brother Andy, a professor of English Literature, would no doubt choose the book store. My friends Jerry Marotta and Roma Prindle, both professional musicians, would choose the music store. I on the other hand am blessed with no talent. Therefore it takes more thought. I decided that, like my brother, I would choose books. I love TV, but if it was the only thing I could do I think I would go more insane than I presently am.
2. If I could drink only one beverage for the rest of my life it would no doubt be coffee. I’m not talking sissy shit half decaf, high foam lattes with flavors. I’m talking a serious cup of Joe. Somewhere along the line I became a coffee addict, followed after by a love of fine coffee. I order my beans green from all over the world and roast them myself. I am one of those pretentious prigs who say stuff like, “the Africans produce a bold flavor, but the acidity is somewhat off-putting. I prefer the more mellow overtones of the South American, especially the Brazilian.”
3. If I could watch only one sport for the rest of my life it would be baseball. Baseball was my first love. I went to baseball camp for 11 summers. I played Little League. I would have played in high school but my bat developed an aversion to the ball. I was better at football and basketball but didn’t love them as much. In my macho 20’s and 30’s football became my favorite. I’ve found that as I have gotten older and slower the pace of baseball suits me better. I like the fact that each pitch is a separate act that allows enough time between them to contemplate the situation of the moment.
4. If I could eat any one food for the rest of my life I would eat Bran. Nah, I’m just kiddin’ ya! I know, and anybody who knows me knows, that I will commit crimes against nature if it meant I could have an Oreo cookie. Oreo’s are God’s perfect food!
By the time I had finished these first four, my drive to Louisville was over, so I didn’t have a chance to ponder other categories. What would your choices be?
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Lifetime achievement awards
This week I am commuting back and forth each day from Indianapolis to Louisville. It’s about 120 miles each way. I used to stay overnight but decided about six months ago to drive each day. There are a few reasons why I do so. First, I make more money on my expenses by driving than by staying overnight. At the same time it doesn’t cost my company any more money. Secondly, I tend to be claustrophobic in motel rooms…once about six years ago I woke up in a cold sweat while on the road and spent the night literally pacing the room. Most importantly though is I have grown to treasure the time I have alone with my thoughts. I used to study hypnosis back in the 1970’s when I was searching for alternatives to reality that wouldn’t get me arrested. There are times when I will notice it is mile marker 77 on I-65 and get lost in my thoughts and the next thing I know I am at mile marker 45 with no idea of how I got there. It’s just like hypnosis.
Today as I drove down I started thinking about events and occasions in my life and have decided to start giving out my own awards for noteworthy achievements. These are lifetime awards based on my 62 years on the planet. I am the sole judge.
MOST AWESOME ACHIEVEMENT IN MY LIFE (NON-SPORTS DIVISION):
The first moon landing in July, 1969. The idea that three men in a container not much bigger than my car could break Earth’s gravity, travel to a distant planet, and land on it still seems like science fiction to me.
The fall of the Berlin Wall comes in second.
MOST AWESOME ACHIEVEMENT IN MY LIFE (SPORTS DIVISION):
Secretariat’s Belmont Stakes victory in 1973. He set a record for a mile and a quarter when he won the Kentucky Derby (a record which still stands). In the Belmont he set a new world record for a mile and a half, beating the previous record by two and three/fifths seconds. What is truly amazing is that he went faster through the first mile and a quarter than he did when he set the record in the Derby. Each fifth of a second is considered a length. That means he would have beaten the previous world record holder by 13 lengths . Most amazing, he was going so fast that he also unofficially broke the world record for a mile and five/eighths, even though he was being eased up the last eighth. Nobody has come within two seconds of his record to this date.
Second would be Bob Beamon’s world record long jump in the 1968 Olympics. Though awesome, it was accomplished at the altitude of Mexico City, which does tarnish it just a little.
I wasn’t alive to see them, but Jesse Owens’ setting three world records at the Big Ten track meet within a span of one hour, and Babe Didrikson winning the women’s NCAA track championship for TCU, as the only member of the team, would no doubt have been something to see.
MOST GRACIOUS CELEBRITY I EVER MET:
Arnold Palmer. I was in a restaurant in Minneapolis about twenty years ago when Arnold Palmer and his wife came in to dine. I watched as person after person came up to him and got his autograph. I am not a fan of golf but I had a neighbor who was a big fan. I went up to Mr. Palmer and apologized for being just another in a long line of people interrupting his dinner. He smiled and thanked me, saying it was no problem because without the fans he wouldn’t be anything. On his way out he must have spent thirty minutes posing with customers who wanted their picture taken with him.
LEAST GRACIOUS CELEBRITY I EVER MET:
Edie Gorme. Not even close. For those of you too young to remember, Edie Gorme and Steve Lawrence were modestly successful singers who each had one major hit in the 1960’s. His hit was “Go Away, Little Girl”. Her hit was “Blame It on the Bossa Nova”. They were more famous as Frank Sinatra’s personal ass kissers. Anyway, one summer while I was doing my college job of delivering diapers I had them on my route. Many wealthy NYer’s go “to the country”, about 40 miles outside the city, during the summer. When I first called on them Edie told me that if I took good care of them she would “take care of me” at the end of the summer. Anticipating a big tip, I practically polished those diapers every week before delivering them. At the end of the summer I got my big reward. The bitch gave me an autographed picture of herself! I tore it up before I was even out of their driveway.
Second place would go to Buddy Hackett, the comedian. When I was fourteen a friend of mine convinced me to caddy with him one Saturday at Winged Foot golf club, a prestigious club in Scarsdale, NY. I knew nothing about golf, including how hard it is to carry clubs for eighteen holes. I was chosen by the illustrious Mr. Hackett as his caddy. I did not realize that he was not a nice man. By the end of the round I thought my name had been changed to “you fuckin’ kid”.
There are more awards to be handed out, but my lunch hour and I need to get back to work. Unless they give out “best slacker” awards.
Today as I drove down I started thinking about events and occasions in my life and have decided to start giving out my own awards for noteworthy achievements. These are lifetime awards based on my 62 years on the planet. I am the sole judge.
MOST AWESOME ACHIEVEMENT IN MY LIFE (NON-SPORTS DIVISION):
The first moon landing in July, 1969. The idea that three men in a container not much bigger than my car could break Earth’s gravity, travel to a distant planet, and land on it still seems like science fiction to me.
The fall of the Berlin Wall comes in second.
MOST AWESOME ACHIEVEMENT IN MY LIFE (SPORTS DIVISION):
Secretariat’s Belmont Stakes victory in 1973. He set a record for a mile and a quarter when he won the Kentucky Derby (a record which still stands). In the Belmont he set a new world record for a mile and a half, beating the previous record by two and three/fifths seconds. What is truly amazing is that he went faster through the first mile and a quarter than he did when he set the record in the Derby. Each fifth of a second is considered a length. That means he would have beaten the previous world record holder by 13 lengths . Most amazing, he was going so fast that he also unofficially broke the world record for a mile and five/eighths, even though he was being eased up the last eighth. Nobody has come within two seconds of his record to this date.
Second would be Bob Beamon’s world record long jump in the 1968 Olympics. Though awesome, it was accomplished at the altitude of Mexico City, which does tarnish it just a little.
I wasn’t alive to see them, but Jesse Owens’ setting three world records at the Big Ten track meet within a span of one hour, and Babe Didrikson winning the women’s NCAA track championship for TCU, as the only member of the team, would no doubt have been something to see.
MOST GRACIOUS CELEBRITY I EVER MET:
Arnold Palmer. I was in a restaurant in Minneapolis about twenty years ago when Arnold Palmer and his wife came in to dine. I watched as person after person came up to him and got his autograph. I am not a fan of golf but I had a neighbor who was a big fan. I went up to Mr. Palmer and apologized for being just another in a long line of people interrupting his dinner. He smiled and thanked me, saying it was no problem because without the fans he wouldn’t be anything. On his way out he must have spent thirty minutes posing with customers who wanted their picture taken with him.
LEAST GRACIOUS CELEBRITY I EVER MET:
Edie Gorme. Not even close. For those of you too young to remember, Edie Gorme and Steve Lawrence were modestly successful singers who each had one major hit in the 1960’s. His hit was “Go Away, Little Girl”. Her hit was “Blame It on the Bossa Nova”. They were more famous as Frank Sinatra’s personal ass kissers. Anyway, one summer while I was doing my college job of delivering diapers I had them on my route. Many wealthy NYer’s go “to the country”, about 40 miles outside the city, during the summer. When I first called on them Edie told me that if I took good care of them she would “take care of me” at the end of the summer. Anticipating a big tip, I practically polished those diapers every week before delivering them. At the end of the summer I got my big reward. The bitch gave me an autographed picture of herself! I tore it up before I was even out of their driveway.
Second place would go to Buddy Hackett, the comedian. When I was fourteen a friend of mine convinced me to caddy with him one Saturday at Winged Foot golf club, a prestigious club in Scarsdale, NY. I knew nothing about golf, including how hard it is to carry clubs for eighteen holes. I was chosen by the illustrious Mr. Hackett as his caddy. I did not realize that he was not a nice man. By the end of the round I thought my name had been changed to “you fuckin’ kid”.
There are more awards to be handed out, but my lunch hour and I need to get back to work. Unless they give out “best slacker” awards.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Why I'm anti-abortion; the child that never got to be
Most, if not all, people who know me are very surprised when they find out I am totally against abortion. My position is not based on theology. In most instances my philosophies bear no more resemblance to the Catholic Church than Taylor Swift does to “The Biggest Loser”.
I am usually ultra liberal. For example, I believe marijuana should be legalized. That way we can remove the criminal tag from 30 million otherwise law-abiding citizens, eliminate a major source of funding from the black market, and wipe out a significant amount of our national debt by taxes. It would also provide a great cash crop for America’s farmers.
I believe prostitution should be legalized so it can be taken off the streets. Prostitutes could receive proper medical assistance and again we’d have another source of taxes. I believe gambling should be legalized everywhere. I believe in gay marriage. I believe in equal rights for all…but I don’t believe in abortion.
I admit that when I was younger I didn’t really give the subject of abortion much thought. Nobody I knew in high school ever got pregnant to my knowledge. In college I was friends with a girl who used abortion as an apparent birth control alternative as she had three abortions in the three years we were in school together. I always thought of it as sad, but I didn’t put much thought into it at all. I thought it didn’t concern me what a woman did with her body.
Two things happened in my life which led to a change in my attitude. The first occurred in November 1971. I had been involved in a relationship with a girl from college which ended in September 1971. In November, while I was home in NY for Thanksgiving, she called me and hit me with this message, “You and me created a we…but don’t worry about it…I’ve already taken care of it”. Besides my resentment for telling me this when it was already too late for my voice to be heard, I felt a tremendous sense of loss. I’m realistic enough to know that I would not have been able to care for a baby at that point in my life. Yet there have been times throughout my life when I’ve stopped and wondered if it would have been a boy or a girl. I think of how old he/she would be. I miss the child they never got to be.
The second epiphany was when I found out my wife was pregnant with our first born. I watched as that little embryo evolved into a fetus evolved into a baby evolved into my daughter evolved into a woman and mother of her own. It was all part of the natural order of things. It told me that the embryo, from the moment of conception, has a life of its own.
Many women I know disagree with me totally on this subject. Some of these women are people whose opinion I greatly respect. I have been told by a few that as a man I have no right to have an opinion on this topic. They may be right, but I don’t see this as a women’s issue. I see it as a human rights issue. Someone has got to speak up for the silent voice inside the womb. This to me is not about a woman’s right to do whatever she wants with her body. Once conception has taken place, the womb is out on loan. No baby born has to be kept…it can be turned over via “safe haven laws” to hospitals, police stations, or churches. It must be allowed to live though. Life is the most precious thing in the world. Nobody should be allowed to end one…even one that hasn’t been born yet.
But that’s just my opinion.
I am usually ultra liberal. For example, I believe marijuana should be legalized. That way we can remove the criminal tag from 30 million otherwise law-abiding citizens, eliminate a major source of funding from the black market, and wipe out a significant amount of our national debt by taxes. It would also provide a great cash crop for America’s farmers.
I believe prostitution should be legalized so it can be taken off the streets. Prostitutes could receive proper medical assistance and again we’d have another source of taxes. I believe gambling should be legalized everywhere. I believe in gay marriage. I believe in equal rights for all…but I don’t believe in abortion.
I admit that when I was younger I didn’t really give the subject of abortion much thought. Nobody I knew in high school ever got pregnant to my knowledge. In college I was friends with a girl who used abortion as an apparent birth control alternative as she had three abortions in the three years we were in school together. I always thought of it as sad, but I didn’t put much thought into it at all. I thought it didn’t concern me what a woman did with her body.
Two things happened in my life which led to a change in my attitude. The first occurred in November 1971. I had been involved in a relationship with a girl from college which ended in September 1971. In November, while I was home in NY for Thanksgiving, she called me and hit me with this message, “You and me created a we…but don’t worry about it…I’ve already taken care of it”. Besides my resentment for telling me this when it was already too late for my voice to be heard, I felt a tremendous sense of loss. I’m realistic enough to know that I would not have been able to care for a baby at that point in my life. Yet there have been times throughout my life when I’ve stopped and wondered if it would have been a boy or a girl. I think of how old he/she would be. I miss the child they never got to be.
The second epiphany was when I found out my wife was pregnant with our first born. I watched as that little embryo evolved into a fetus evolved into a baby evolved into my daughter evolved into a woman and mother of her own. It was all part of the natural order of things. It told me that the embryo, from the moment of conception, has a life of its own.
Many women I know disagree with me totally on this subject. Some of these women are people whose opinion I greatly respect. I have been told by a few that as a man I have no right to have an opinion on this topic. They may be right, but I don’t see this as a women’s issue. I see it as a human rights issue. Someone has got to speak up for the silent voice inside the womb. This to me is not about a woman’s right to do whatever she wants with her body. Once conception has taken place, the womb is out on loan. No baby born has to be kept…it can be turned over via “safe haven laws” to hospitals, police stations, or churches. It must be allowed to live though. Life is the most precious thing in the world. Nobody should be allowed to end one…even one that hasn’t been born yet.
But that’s just my opinion.
The strangest coincidence...like ever!
I was thinking today about the most bizarre coincidence that ever happened to me. In fact, it was such a bizarre coincidence that I defy anyone to tell me one that is more bizarre. I don’t know what the odds of what happened to me in the spring of 1971 would have been, but I would guess they would fall somewhere between getting hit by lightning and winning the lottery.
In the summer of 1970 and into early fall I was involved with a folk singer named Nancy, but everyone knew her as Bart, a play on her last name. We were casually involved in Lexington, Kentucky, where I went to school, until December, 1970. She moved from Lexington to Atlanta to live with a mutual friend Sylvia and her boyfriend Jody. During Easter break of that year (my senior year) I decided to hitchhike from Lexington to Atlanta to pay Bart, Sylvia, and Jody a visit. Lexington to Atlanta is about 375 miles. My first ride got me as far as London, Kentucky, about 70 miles down the road. After standing on the ramp to I-75 for about 20 minutes a car stopped to pick me up. Inside were three guys who looked like they enjoyed a good time, 1960’s style. They asked, “Where you going, dude?” I told them Atlanta and they said it was my lucky day…that’s where they were headed.
The ride to Atlanta was fun if uneventful. We drank a little, smoked a little, and made small talk. About 10 miles outside of Atlanta we hit a sharp turn. “You ought to have seen my old roommate Jody go around this curve in his car” said the driver. Knowing that Jody wasn’t that common a name for men, I asked him, “Does Jody drive a Volkswagen?” He said, “Yeah, how the hell did you know that?” I said “I’m going to visit a girlfriend and she lives with another girl who lives with her boyfriend Jody”. “No shit! Is her name Sylvia?” He exclaimed. “Yes!” I replied. He said, “Man, we’re going to the same house!”
I often think of what a confluence of events had to take place for that to occur. I was going 375 miles. I had to be dropped off in London, a town of 10,000. They had to be getting gas at that exit at the same time. Atlanta was a city of over a half a million people at that time. As I said, it has always struck me as one of the strangest coincidences that could ever be.
In the summer of 1970 and into early fall I was involved with a folk singer named Nancy, but everyone knew her as Bart, a play on her last name. We were casually involved in Lexington, Kentucky, where I went to school, until December, 1970. She moved from Lexington to Atlanta to live with a mutual friend Sylvia and her boyfriend Jody. During Easter break of that year (my senior year) I decided to hitchhike from Lexington to Atlanta to pay Bart, Sylvia, and Jody a visit. Lexington to Atlanta is about 375 miles. My first ride got me as far as London, Kentucky, about 70 miles down the road. After standing on the ramp to I-75 for about 20 minutes a car stopped to pick me up. Inside were three guys who looked like they enjoyed a good time, 1960’s style. They asked, “Where you going, dude?” I told them Atlanta and they said it was my lucky day…that’s where they were headed.
The ride to Atlanta was fun if uneventful. We drank a little, smoked a little, and made small talk. About 10 miles outside of Atlanta we hit a sharp turn. “You ought to have seen my old roommate Jody go around this curve in his car” said the driver. Knowing that Jody wasn’t that common a name for men, I asked him, “Does Jody drive a Volkswagen?” He said, “Yeah, how the hell did you know that?” I said “I’m going to visit a girlfriend and she lives with another girl who lives with her boyfriend Jody”. “No shit! Is her name Sylvia?” He exclaimed. “Yes!” I replied. He said, “Man, we’re going to the same house!”
I often think of what a confluence of events had to take place for that to occur. I was going 375 miles. I had to be dropped off in London, a town of 10,000. They had to be getting gas at that exit at the same time. Atlanta was a city of over a half a million people at that time. As I said, it has always struck me as one of the strangest coincidences that could ever be.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Random Thoughts
Random Thoughts:
I’ve developed a theory that people pass from this world in perfect harmony with their inability to comprehend the technological advances in society. As more advances take place and we seniors no longer can follow them all, we move on. It almost seems like “Ray Bradbury presents the Natural Order of Things”.
When I look out from inside my eyes I am much younger, thinner, and more attractive than when I look in the mirror or at pictures of myself. I am trying to learn to comb my hair, shave, and brush my teeth without looking in the mirror. A few razor cuts are a small price to pay for youth.
I have grown to really resent drivers who tailgate me when I am going five miles over the limit in the extreme right lane of the interstate. I have taken to imperceptibly slowing down to the speed limit just to piss them off. I am passive aggressive…I admit it.
I haven’t told many people that I have cancer (other than 76 facebook friends and 10 people from work). What I mean is that almost everybody I work with and all the personnel at the churches I work with have no idea. It has been very interesting to observe the reaction of the people who do know. Previously they would greet me with a very enthusiastic and hearty “Hey, how ya doin’!”. Now the words are the same but they are said in almost funereal tones. It reminds me of the lyric from the old Joe Walsh song, “everybody’s so different, I haven’t changed”. Guys, I appreciate the concern but I’m fine! I don’t even qualify for a handicapped placard…and I’d really like one of those!
Writing a blog is turning out to be one of the best things I’ve ever done. For the past few years I had become both bored and boring. Just ask Kathie. I had no hobbies other than watching TV, coffee beans and roasting them, and taking naps. Now I find that I really look forward to sitting at the computer and getting my thoughts out. Sort of like a geriatric Doogie Howser. Tonight I even wrote this instead of watching “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart”, a show I seldom miss. However, it IS time for “Jeopardy!”, so I’ve got to go.
My dad, a/k/a "Big Jake"
As I’ve mentioned before, my father was one of the most distinctive people I knew. Not many children can say that their father wanted to be a bank robber. I can. Fortunately, he never had the nerve to go through with it.
My dad, Jack Solomon, was born in December, 1904, the sixth son and seventh child of Abraham and Sarah Solomon (could they sound more Jewish?) in a ghetto in London’s East End. His father was a tailor and his mother, judging from the fact she had nine kids in all, spent most of her time taking her clothes off. He quit school in the fourth grade to help earn money for the family. In 1922 he traveled to the USA by himself to live with his older brother Dave and Dave’s wife Rae in Pittsburgh. He spent most of his twenties and early thirties traveling throughout the country selling jewelry wholesale to stores. He would regal young farm girls in Kansas with tales of working for Schwartz & Steinberg Jewelers, which, according to him, had a beautiful 42 story building in the heart of Manhattan. The girls were terribly impressed. Of course, Mr. Schwartz and Mr. Steinberg, toiling away in their one room walk up on the lower East Side would have been surprised to find out that they were so successful. In his late 30’s he met and married my mom. Here are examples of what made him different:
1) My dad tried to convince my brother and I when we were little that he attended college at Oberhauser College in Ossawatomie, Kansas. He went there on a bagel cutting scholarship. His roommate was called “Yardsey”…so called because he had three feet. No such college ever existed and we never got to meet Yardsey.
2) Situation: Panhandler comes up to him and me on the streets of NYC one day. Normal responses might be to ignore the gentleman or say sorry. Jack Solomon rises to his full 5’8” and says disdainfully, “Sir, I do not contribute to the Devil’s Brew”.
3) Situation: My dad ran a diaper service. Sometimes the customers would cheat by not returning the plastic can that held the dirty diapers when they cancelled the service. Normal responses might be to ignore it or send a bill for the can. Jack Solomon borrows me and an old school crossing guard badge I had from elementary school. He goes to errant customer’s door and when they open it he says, “ O’Brian, 43rd precint. Man here (pointing to me) says you stole his diaper can. This can go down hard or it can go down easy”.
4) Back in the day when gas was affordable and families did things together on a Sunday, we would go for family drives “in the country”. Inevitably we would find ourselves in some small town with a bank. At that time my father became a Bizarro version of Walter Mitty. He no longer was Jack Solomon, mild-mannered businessman and father of two small boys. He was now “Big Jake”, wanted fugitive and legendary bank robber. My mother was no longer a registered nurse. In his mind she was the moll behind the wheel of the getaway car. Even I, at age eight or so, was transformed into “Mugsy”, his faithful lookout. We would drive around the bank two or three times, or as he called it, “casing the joint”, planning the best way to break in. The fact that he had no idea what the bank set up was during the week when it actually was open did not deter his fantasy. He would then have us stop at a local café so we could plan out the robbery as well as our escape route. I must point out what a good sport my mother was to indulge this behavior. But then again she had her own idiosyncracies…but that’s another story for another day.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
a short quiz
It occurs to me that several of the people who may be reading this either have not seen me in forty years, being old college cronies, or have not met me at all, our friendships blossoming through Facebook. While I am at it, let me explain why I post so much on Facebook. I believe that as kids we make our friends through school and, as we age, through work and our kid’s activities and school. Kathie and I have moved quite a bit and have only lived in Indianapolis since 2003 so we don’t have the “hometown” roots so many people do. My job requires me to move weekly from church to church so I don’t have the opportunity to make work friends. My kids are grown and gone. Therefore, being the social animal I am, Facebook provides the socialization I desperately need. This is not meant as a pity party…just the facts. So, in the name of getting to know me, with the outside chance of also liking me, I am enclosing a short quiz about me. Answers below.
1) I have lived in how many states?
a) 5
b) 7
c) 9
d) 11
2) I do the following things with which hand?
a) Throw and bat left, write and eat right
b) Throw and bat right, write and eat left
c) Throw, bat, write, and eat right
d) Throw, bat, write, and eat left
3) My favorite flavor of ice cream is?
a) vanilla
b) strawberry
c) chocolate
d) rocky road
4) My father wanted to be?
a) A lawyer
b) An entertainer
c) A bank robber
d) President of the USA
5) I will only get a tattoo if?
a) The Cubs win the World Series
b) A horse wins the Triple Crown again
c) Me? Are you crazy?
d) I am very, very drunk
6) I have how many siblings?
a) One sister
b) One brother
c) One sister, one brother
d) Two brothers
Answers: 1-c,2-b,3-c,4-c,5-a,6-b
Friday, March 25, 2011
some things you may not know about me
1) I think my wife is the strongest, most ethical person I have ever met.
2) I love the company I work for, like what I do, but think that I missed my true calling. I would have been great doing something with my voice such as disc jockey, sports broadcasting, or voice overs. I lacked the drive.
3) I have a man crush on Mike Rowe from “Dirty Jobs”/”Deadliest Catch” and on Bob Brenley, the color announcer for the Chicago Cubs (not that there’s anything wrong with that).
4) Thoroughbred horses are my favorite athletes. They will give everything they’ve got for a bucket of oats. I have seen every Kentucky Derby live or on TV since 1956 except for 1988 and 2006. I also can name every Triple Crown Winner including the year they won it.
5) Muhammad Ali is my hero.
6) If I could have dinner with any five living people they would be Neil DeGrasse Tyson, Jon Stewart, Barack Obama, Leonard Pitts, and Muhammad Ali.
7) If I could have dinner with any five people living or dead they would be Jesus Christ, Leonardo DaVinci, Ben Franklin, Mark Twain, and George Bernard Shaw. Secretariat would be welcome to graze outside.
8) I once was a half decent athlete. I scored 25 points in an intramural college basketball game and bowled a 267. I can still bowl a 267, but it takes me two, maybe three, games to do it.
9) Although we don’t have many mutual interests, I have grown to deeply admire and love my son in law. He is a terrific father, makes my daughter very happy and secure, and works exceptionally hard to provide for them. She couldn’t have done better.
10) My father was one of the most distinctive people in the world. He always wanted to be a gangster but lacked the desire to go to jail. He resorted to petty acts of crime (taking handfuls of matchbooks from banks for example) to satisfy his lust. I love the cinnamon rolls at Holiday Inn Express so if I am staying near one when traveling I will stop in and have breakfast. I call it the “Jack Solomon Memorial Rip-Off”.
11) I was born Jewish but don’t follow it or any organized religion. I wish I could have the peace of mind that comes with a belief in God but that path just doesn’t work for me.
12) I think the ultimate ego trip would be to write a song at my kitchen table and hear it sung by thousands of people at a concert.
13) I think I would rather excel in an individual sport such as tennis or golf than be a member of a team. Yet I would much rather be a member of a band than a solo music artist.
14) I never learned how to ride a bicycle.
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