On Obituaries And Legacies

I'm not one for reading the obituaries. I should be a follower of obituaries. Not because of my age but because of my genes. My mother was an avid reader of the obituaries (what was unusual about her choice of news was that she read the obits as published in English even though she never had any schooling in the English language). I recall that  Ben Franklin like my mother read the obits everyday.  According to Ben, "I wake up every morning at nine and grab for the morning paper. Then I look at the obituary page.If my name is not on it, I get up". He would be frustrated by today's daily newspaper being delivered only four days a week. Poor Ben would get an awful lot of sleep these days.

My excuse for ignoring the obituaries? At my age, they might spoil my breakfast if my name was staring me in the face.Some people write their own obituaries. I guess they don't want to take a chance of anything negative popping up after they are gone and can't defend themselves. I would chalk it up as an unnecessary ego trip. No undertaker worth the bucks he is being paid would let a negative obituary get by him. Personally, I have found it unnecessary to indulge in obituary writing. I always felt that I would do something outstanding during the course of my life and at my death editors would be scrambling to detail the deeds. Such is not to be. I stopped pursuing a legacy worth any newsprint long ago. I'll have to be satisfied with a generic obituary. No obituary at all would be OK also. What is really important is that those whom I love remember me as someone who did his best to earn their love and respect.

Whoa! This is beginning to sound like an obituary and a published one at that. I assure one and all that such is not the case. Heck those embers from the dying fire of establishing a legacy might still burst out into a flame. Stranger things have happened. Realistically as far as the future of printed obituaries is concerned, its about as dim as my legacy embers. Most investors are convinced that newspapers are on their death bed. I wonder, has anyone written the obituary? That's one I want to read.

"You're an Engineer,why can't you fix it!"

For the record, I'm a graduate of  Cornell University's College of Engineering and proud of it. Also for the record, I'm the unhandiest handyman that was ever granted an engineering degree. While I'm at it, let it be known that I get very irritable whenever my inability to correct a household mechanical or electrical failure is associated with an error on the part of Cornell to bestow upon me the title of Engineer.

Case in point. While on a break from the school "far above Cayuga's waters", I returned home for a visit. My father was especially proud that he had a son who had taken a course in refrigeration and had long awaited my visit. After devouring a meal of "pasta  e faggioli" I found out the real reason for my welcomed visit. Apparently the refrigerator was malfunctioning. Rather than calling a serviceman, my father had decided to wait until his son, the engineer in training, was home. After supper (I learned to have dinner after graduating), he patiently explained there was a problem with the refrigerator which he would like me to take care of. In turn, I patiently explained that I did not know how to fix the damn thing.  My father's disappointment was obvious as he exclaimed: "You mean to tell me that you took a course in refrigeration and can't fix a refrigerator? What kind of an engineer are you?"

Of course, once I completed my education and was hired as an engineer with a major corporation, my inability to fix a refrigerator was forgiven. After all. someone thought I was qualified to take on the responsibilities of an engineer and was willing to pay me a salary.

I've written this post to reflect the disappointment of those I love, who over the years have had to come to terms with the inability of an engineer to tackle some of the simplest mechanical and electrical malfunctions in the household.  Correction - all but the High Primal have come to terms. To this day, after I inform her that we had better call a serviceman to fix an appliance, she takes me down a peg or two with the words: "I thought you were an engineer, why can't you fix it".

As I said at the outset I do have an engineering education. It served me well for many years in the world of cutting edge technology. Unfortunately, it never came in handy with household tasks but I'm willing to live with that.

Clothes Make The Man

As I put on a ratty pair of jeans and a well worn sweatshirt recently, I couldn't help but think of the cliche, "clothes make the man". Considering the outfit I'd be wearing, you can bet your bottom dollar that no one would mistake me for some sort of a professional unless it was a "professional slob".

 "Clothes make the man" implies that people will judge you based on how well dressed you are. The manner in which one dresses also is a way of making a statement. Case in point, the Irish laborer in the streets of Dublin. During a business trip to Ireland many years ago, I could not help but notice that men working with a pick and shovel wore a suit,a shirt and tie. Mind you the clothes were hardly tailored and bore the grime of several days work. I couldn't help but ask my Irish host why these men weren't dressed in clothes more appropriate for the work they were doing. The reply was that they were making a statement. They were the equal of any fancy dressed professional!

And then there was my POP.  On his way to work he wore a tailored suit with a white shirt and tie. A soft hat topped things off and the shoes were well polished. The clothes made the man - a proud one, a family man. To see my father going to work , one would never guess that he was going to a men's clothing factory where he would work his ass off running a row of steam presses so that his children could dress and work as professionals.

Oh yes, today being St. Patrick's Day offers concrete proof that indeed the clothes make the man. Just a dab of green on ones choice of dress, no matter how formal or casual, will make everyone Irish for the day. Erin go bragh! 

Pass the nuts but hold the baccala

It is that time of year to wax nostalgic about Christmas' past. Flowing from the keyboards of bloggers are mouth watering Christmas Eve food recipes which have been traditional in their families. I'm not going to join the crowd. Christmas Eve for me was memorable because of family gatherings - not because of the menu.

As a youngster, I knew that Christmas was just around the corner because of a creature that had taken residence on the front porch. My Pop had taken some hard earned coins and purchased a Pesce Stocco also known as Baccala. If neither label rings a bell, try dried Cod.

My family was not particularly religious ( I never saw the inside of a church until I was almost a teenager  - but that's another story). In spite of this, the Christmas Eve menu was devoid of meat. I believe it had something to do with fasting, a Papal decree or in our case, tradition. Be that as it may, on Christmas Eve, Baccala was the treat. Having observed that ugly fish frozen stiff on the front porch, I was sure that not even my Mom could make it fit for consumption. Sure enough, the first taste convinced me that baccala did not a Christmas make.

Suffice to say that my parents were not exactly pleased with my rejection of the centerpiece of Christmas Eve dinner. Mind you, there was a Depression going on. They began to wonder if the wrong child had been delivered to their home when I turned thumbs down on another Christmas Eve specialty - pasta con sarde. As far as I was concerned, pasta was meant to be served with meatballs and sausage not some picayune sardines.

Having rejected a good part of Christmas Eve dinner, I was sure my Christmas stocking would be filled with coal. I knew that my Christmas was doomed when I refused to eat the snails. As an adult I became fond of escargot ( probably because of the name) but as a youth I questioned the sanity of anyone wanting to eat a snail.

Before the evening was over I did manage to get some food into a barking stomach. The cannoli were great as well as the nuts and fruit.

As for Christmas present, pass the nuts but hold the baccala. Buono Natale!

La Mano Nera

It was a morning like all mornings. At least I thought so until I started opening blinds hoping that the sun would see fit to make its presence known. I dutifully opened the back patio sliding door blinds and there it was - a black hand! No doubt about it. A black hand was ominously lying on my patio. I had heard of the The Black Hand during my childhood days. I can remember the adults mentioning La Mano Nera in hushed tones as they discussed the news about the latest violence in the neighborhood. The Black Hand symbol was an ominous message of physical harm to come if an extortion demand was not met.

Whoa! I never received any extortion demand so what the hell was a black hand doing on my patio. Was it merely a warning? A warning about what? I lead a relatively quiet life. Who could I have possibly offended? My God, I forgot about my blog! It’s full of rants and pointed comments on individuals and organizations.

 I’ve bad mouthed the Home Owners Association or more accurately certain individuals representing the Association. Would they have the balls to threaten me? Not really, I’m sure they have no balls or they would have had the courtesy of discussing the placement of my bird feeder  with me before forcing me to take it down (Tony's Finch Diner Ordered Shutdown by Homeowners Association). Just for the record I‘m back in business with a Finch Diner - all legal.

 More recently I’ve not been very kind about Obamacare. Scratch Obamacare from the list of persons of interest. They have enough to occupy themselves with, besides threatening an unknown blogger. I’m at my wit's end ( now there’s a cliché I ought to write about someday).

( brief pause while I see who is at the front door)

Mystery solved. That was the landscaper asking permission to retrieve his lost glove. He was sure he dropped it on my back patio.

As I watched him retrieve the black glove, I noticed a bulge under his sweatshirt. Gun? A change of mind? Lesson learned - blogging can be dangerous for your health.

Columbus just don't get no respect

In fourteen hundred ninety-two, Columbus sailed the ocean blue. By two thousand thirteen, Columbus was just another yahoo. Christopher Columbus is the Rodney Dangerfield of explorers. "He don't get no respect!". 

During my elementary school days, Cristoforo Colombo aka Christopher Columbus was always cast as a great explorer. Columbus Day (on October 12th in those days) was a day for celebrating the discovery of America (more accurately The Bahamas archipelago)  by a great navigator with a faulty GPS. This was especially true in East Utica (Utica, NY) with its predominately Italian-American population. Every politician worth his salt made a speech at the statue of Columbus which graced the Parkway. Nary a word that it was Spain that financed this discoverer and not one of the Italian states. Considering the antics of another Italian in those days, Benito Mussolini, old Christopher wasn't a bad choice for an Italian hero. In fact, at one time Christopher Columbus was even an American Hero. Those days are long past and the chances of Christopher Columbus regaining his once lofty status are no better than the Chicago Cubs winning a World Series.

Like President's Day, the celebration of choice to honor Columbus is a gigantic Columbus Day sale at the local mall. Perhaps it is fitting since Columbus' trip was all about money.

 Some parades do survive but hardly a word will be spoken or written (this post being an exception) about someone named Columbus having discovered America. Although he never set foot on the shores of Manhattan, he still should receive some credit for stumbling on a New World.

If we default on our debt in a few days, Cristoforo will probably wonder why he even set out on the ocean blue only to find a world of a different hew  which would be populated by deadbeat Tea Party members with a sick view.

I love Westerns, but not guns

This is a post about guns. No, I'm not going to rant about the latest gun massacre on the national scene. I'm passing on the Washington, D.C. Naval Yard gun violence. I'll probably pass on the next massacre and the one after that and the one.........enough already. That's not what I want to write about. I've already done it 47 times and realize I'm beating a dead horse.

My issue with guns in this post is a passion of mine. I love Westerns. I'll turn off a baseball game

with the Indians at bat in the bottom of the ninth, the bases loaded and no outs, in order to catch a movie about the Wild West. The Wild West equates with guns. Lots of guns and lots of mayhem. I'll stay glued to the TV set fascinated by the fastest gun in the west. It's been this way since I was a child. I recall my cousin and I replaying every Western we just saw at the neighborhood theater. My favorite role was playing Tom Mix (not because his horse was named Tony).

 Even in the midst of a depression, gun sales (toy guns that is) were brisk. They came in all forms. I loved the ones that fired caps. My cousin opted for a bee-bee gun. My father emphatically let me know that anything more deadly than a cap gun was taboo for me.

The point is, I'm having a difficult time rationalizing my passion for Westerns with my passion for more effective control of guns in our modern society. I never traded in my toy gun for the real McCoy. I feel fortunate that I have never wanted to settle a dispute in the manner of those quick draw artists of the past. With my temper, this has been a blessing. Still, I don't feel like a hypocrite while I'm watching a Western. As the song goes, "that's entertainment".

 This country, whether we like it or not, was put together by gun violence but it does not follow that gun violence must continue to be at the forefront today. Had to get that last piece of preaching or "botta" into this post. Now it's time to bring it to an end. It's almost time for "Gunfight at the OK Corral".

I need a smart phone like a hole in the head

In a moment of weakness, I dumped my dumb phone and got myself a smart phone. What’s so bad about that? Nothing other than I need a smart phone like I need a hole in the head. Let me be clear about my smart phone. It’s an Android, not an iPhone. There is too much “I” in everything we want or do these days. Besides it is also more expensive than the Android. Family members who have iPhones expected no less from me. The High Primal was elated, especially when I convinced her that her dumb phone and my smart phone would be able to communicate in a crowded mall.

I’ve had the phone for over a month now and have only made a couple of phone calls with it, both of which were “no answer“. I’ve been too damn busy trying to understand what makes it so smart. I’m at the point now that I’m comfortable with enough Apps that I can relax and start treating it like a phone - oops, a smart phone.

My phone tells me where I’m at and even pinpoints it on a map. I’m sure that the folks at NSA like this feature. It also navigates but I don’t really need this App - my High Primal can get me lost a lot easier. It plays music but I’d rather sit in my easy chair and listen to the radio. All in all it has more Apps than I can possibly absorb.

I now have an appreciation of why Androids (and of course iPhones) are called smart phones. They are smart - very smart. Their IQ, I’m sure, exceeds that of most users ( yours truly excepted). I’m amazed - I can walk around with a computer in the palm of my hand.

(I go back to the days of having to write a Basic program in order to get some information out of a dumb computer. My first personal computer was the TRS-80 (better known as the Trash80). If you weren’t acquainted with MS-DOS, there was no way that the machine could spit out any information. My point is that now have a computer, aka a smart phone, in the palm of our hand which outperforms most personal computers of the past.)

As far as walking around with a smart phone is concerned, I have so far avoided looking like a zombie with a box held to his ear. The smart phone remains in my pocket except when I‘m comfortably seated somewhere. With all these caveats about the use of a smart phone, one might ask why I got one in the first place. Probably because I actually do have a hole in my head.

I wish I could say that this post is being sent to Blogger via their blogging App but I can’t. The procedure appears to be too complicated. Hell, I haven’t even learned how to take a decent picture, never mind posting to this blog.

I’ve got to bring this post to an end - my phone is talking to me. Oh yes, I didn’t mention that these things have something called voice recognition. If the High Primal finds out, I’m sure she will want one. She loves to make small talk.

A Movie And Free Dishes

The High Primal ,as I've noted before, is a fountain of knowledge when it comes to movies. Halliwell's "Film Guide" never strays far from our TV set. One would think we venture out to a movie theater frequently. Not so. For some unknown reason (the fact that I'm not a movie buff may be a clue) we get our fill of movies via Netflix, an occasional DVD purchase and Turner Classic Movies on the boob tube.
 
While watching a vintage movie, ”Footlight Parade”, on TCM, I couldn’t help going back in time when it was a treat to go to the neighborhood theater for a night at the movies.

Dish night at the Family Theater in the 1930's is especially memorable for me. If it wasn't for china set giveaways, I doubt that neighborhood theaters would have survived at the height of the depression era. A free piece of tableware was handed out as you gave your 15 cent (as I recall) ticket to a grouchy theater owner. My mother and my aunt competed as to whose set of china would be completed first. The highlight of the evening was not the movie but the sudden crash of a dish as someone scrunched through a row of seats to get to an empty one in the middle.

It's amazing that in the midst of a deep depression, people found the few pennies to get to a movie in order to get something free. Amazing but understandable. It's the American way. Just think, in the midst of the sequester the very rich are looking for a free pass on taxes. But I digress.

 Maybe the High primal and I would get to a movie more often if they gave away something like Marx Brothers bobble heads. Hmmmm, just when was the last time we saw the inside of a movie theater? Don't get me wrong. I'm not too cheap to venture out to a movie, but to be honest, I'm scared shitless of vampires.

I'm in a cloud



Every time  I pick up the paper there is a notice of someone in my age group having ascended to the choir silent, the latest being Senator Lautenberg. The honorable Senator Lautenberg left a legacy but that is a luxury I do not have. Neither do I have the luxury of joining a choir. My 7th grade music teacher, Miss Hugo (no relationship to Victor), saw to that when she unceremoniously instructed me to stand in the back row of our choir but not to open my mouth. One might argue that in fact I joined the choir silent many, many, many years ago. Of course, considering my vital signs, that is debatable.

 Being eligible for the choir silent can be depressing but it is also a call for action. As they say, time is getting short - get your ass in gear.  So what did I do with this sudden burst of energy? I decided to go to the clouds before I'm dragged there. Yep, I claimed a cloud of my own. I've spent some time putting all my files in a cloud. Why? Just to prove to myself that I am not a Luddite.

 Before anyone ties this momentous event to the tragic tornadoes in Oklahoma, be aware that my files hardly made a dent in the cloud I stored them in. On the other hand, my blogs floating around in cyberspace may very well be unsettling to Mother Nature.

Hail The Dandelion

 I hereby proclaim the dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) this blog's official weed; long live the dandelion ( and it will)! The dandelion is a lion among Mother Nature's gifts to the environment. Those who detest dandelions might as well put away their weapons of mass destruction. Dandelions are indestructible and are unsurpassed in loyalty. They roar back each Spring and their yellow flower brings color to drab green lawns. A dandelion's vibrant flower eventually turns to seeds which are seized by friendly winds and deposited on lawns all over the neighborhood so that endless generations of dandelions will rise up to torment landscapers.

Before those lovely dandelion flowers turn to seed, wine connoisseurs have been known to harvest them and turn them into wine. I must admit I have never imbibed in dandelion wine in spite of the urging of an eccentric friend of mine. I just did not trust his wine making ability after a case of homemade beer exploded in his basement. Speaking of basement, what sane person would build a sailing boat in his basement? He did and as far as I know, the only floating that the boat did was during a heavy rainfall which flooded the basement.

The fondest memory I have of dandelions goes back to my youth; yes, that was a long, long time ago, proving that Alzheimer is not at my doorstep. Now, what was I saying? Oh yes, as a youngster I watched little old Italian immigrant ladies walk east by my house carrying an empty sack. Later in the day I watched them walk west by my house with a full sack over their shoulder. They had been to the municipal park and spent the afternoon picking dandelions. My mother told me that the content of those sacks would provide some tasty meals. Let me be quick to add that my mother was not a dandelion picker and never prepared a dandelion meal.

So what's with dandelion meals? It turns out that dandelions are a rich source vitamin A, B Complex, C and D, as well as minerals such as iron, potassium, and zinc. Not surprisingly, like most greens, dandelions find their way into salads, sauces and bread . I would hasten to mention that since civilization is bent on eradicating them by .the liberal use of herbicides it should also make them suspect as a food.

One might ask that since I don't drink dandelion wine or eat dandelion salads full of vitamins, why have I honored dandelions as the official weed of this blog? More to the point, is it really necessary? The answers my friend are that I don't really know and no, but if you got this far - mission accomplished. All hail the dandelion!

Only The Shadow Knows

Lets see, I haven’t published since 12/22. Today is 12/31. My, my, 8 days without a post. I’m feeling well, so illness is no excuse. In fact, I have no excuses. The motivation for blogging , just hasn't been there. So why am I posting this tome? I just couldn’t let my last post of the year be about a nightmare and worse yet, in the form of a poem.

I almost fell into the trap of moaning about the troubles of the past year and then predicting what 2013 holds in store for us. Been there, done that. What’s past is past. If we learned something, hooray. If we didn't, shame, shame, shame.  What’s coming , will come.

I for one will control what I can control. As for those events which I can't control, maintaining a sense of humor should get me by as well as an occasional blog post.

BUON CAPODANNO!!!!

ed note: Ran a Blogger spell check before publishing this post. "BUON CAPODANNO" got highlighted as I expected but I wasn't prepared for the furious flashing of the highlight.  It seemed like Blogger was trying to tell me something. Scary - was it an omen? What evil lurks in 2013? Only "The Shadow" knows and he's not telling.

The cards dwindle down to a precious few

Just finished making out my Christmas cards - all five of them. I can't help going back a few decades when making out Christmas cards was a tedious task. I recall having to bundle the cards - two bundles, one local and one out of town. I also recall that the Christmas card list was long enough to qualify as a capital expense. So what has changed? Have I become so anti-social that my friend list is very short? Have I lost touch with my friends because of our mobile society? Has Facebook become the vehicle of choice for posting seasons greetings? All of the above for sure have shortened my Christmas card list but I must admit that the real culprit is age. I haven't kept track of numbers, but my Christmas card list gets shorter in direct proportion to my age. Friends have joined the choir silent in increasing numbers. As I get older, call me Scrooge if you must, I increasingly lose interest in sending out any kind of a canned greeting.  So why am I sending out five cards via USPS? Nostalgia? Heck no, a charity sent me a bunch of cards and conned me into a donation, so I felt obligated to use a few of the cards. Besides USPS needs the business.

Damn Yankees!

Thank God for baseball’s playoffs. If all we had to look forward to this month were presidential debates, campaign speeches and the fate of Big Bird it would be grounds for finding a quiet padded cell somewhere. Not that baseball can’t drive you up the wall. The failure of your favorite team to achieve post season honors however, is not a reason for taking the bridge. Which brings me to the Cleveland Indians? On the other hand, I don’t want to go there. Words cannot express my disappointment with their performance. I’ve gotten to the point where I’m adopting my boyhood team as my favorite to go all the way in October. Yes, I’m going to root for the damn Yankees.



Pop's favorite Yankee-Joe DiMaggio

Rooting for the Yankees shouldn’t be too difficult. I did it for many years. My father was a rabid Yankee fan. I don’t think he ever had a baseball in his hands. I suspect that names like DiMaggio, Rizzuto, and Berra on the Yankee roster had a lot to do with his loyalty. I can still remember the radios on the front porches in our neighborhood tuned in to Yankee games vividly described by Mel Allen and his inimitable, “How a-bout that?!" Yes, damn it, I can root for the Yankees again. I don’t care for Alex Rodriguez but I have the utmost respect for Derek Jeter. There is always C.C. Sabathia to root for - a product of the Cleveland Indians. I can do it - if I can tune out the obnoxious fans.

Obnoxious Yankee fans could be the deal breaker. The last I heard, Rudy Giuliani was still wearing a Yankee hat. How the hell can I root for something he roots for? Damn Yankees, why don’t they take his seasons tickets away from him on the grounds that he doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground? I may have a hole in my head, but regardless of Giuliani, I’m going to root for the Yankees to get in the Series. I’m also going to root for Obama to kick ass in the next debate.

Damn Yankees! Don’t let me down. Not being able to pick a winner will raise havoc with my self esteem. As for you Obama, you have a job to finish before you go back to Chicago and root for the White Sox. Just do it!

It's About Dignity

Finally got around to watching and listening to some political rhetoric at the DNC last night. Glad I did. My favorite line came from Joe Biden not Barak Obama. During his speech, Vice-President Biden reminded us that "A job is a lot more than a paycheck, it's about dignity, it's about respect". This cuts to the core of the problems facing our country today. Unemployment fosters a deterioration of values. Not only because it does not put food on the table but because it eats away at one's self respect. Without self respect there can be no dignity. Without dignity there cannot be a gentle society.

 Neither party thus far has committed to concrete programs for putting people back to work and that's too bad. Everyone should get up in the morning feeling like a productive member of society. Would that someone would come forward with an aggressive program such as FDR's Works Project Administration (WPA). The WPA was the largest and most ambitious New Deal agency, employing millions of unskilled workers to carry out public works projects including the construction of public buildings and roads.

I remember my father coming home after a days work with a pick and shovel at the height of the Great Depression. I remember him coming home with soiled clothes and frozen ears. The WPA  had provided him with work. In spite of all the cruel remarks and jokes made about someone working for the WPA, the WPA had provided dignity for him as well as work. Dignity working with a pick and shovel? Of course - he was improving his country's infrastructure. More importantly, he was earning the respect of his family.

Buddha Is Back

The Great Buddha of Kamakura

Back in 1958, I had the good fortune to make a business trip to Japan. Of course, a little sight seeing had to be part of the trip. I have never forgotten my visit to Kamakura, where on the grounds of the Kotokuin Temple I stood in awe before The Great Buddha. The bronze statue of Amida Buddha is 13.35 meters tall. The picture with this post does not do justice to The Great Buddha but I’ve included it for sentimental reasons. It is mine as amateurish as it is.

Many years ago I had a Buddha statue in my home. Several moves took a toll on Buddha and he departed our household. I don't know where he is now, but I  suspect  that he found Nibbana.


 On a visit to the chiropractor’s office recently I noticed that his waiting room had a number of Buddha figurines. Nostalgia took over and I decided that Buddha had to grace my home again. After searching for awhile I came across a statue to my liking and it now graces the mantel of my fireplace where it catches the rays of the afternoon sun. Buddha is back!

The Small Buddha of Aberdeen

So what's all this preoccupation with Buddha? In the words of today's youngsters - he's cool! I have also discovered that Buddha is a political strategist. But that is material for another post.

 In the meantime the following is worth meditating upon:

However many holy words you read, however many you speak, what good will they do you if you do not act upon them?

Keeping My Memories Alive

I listen to WKHR-FM 91.5 quite a bit. True to its motto, ‘Keeping your memories alive’, the music played on this station continually takes me back decades - a lot of decades. I can’t get enough of listening to the music making of the big bands- Glen Miller, Tommy Dorsey, Harry James. Listening to Frank Sinatra belt out a song gets the memory bank open for all kinds of recollections. The inimitable music and voices of Louis Armstrong and Louis Prima is still a treat. Jazz? Dave Brubek or George Shearing and their combos together with a touch of Scotch provides for a foot stomping evening. What better music than that from a Rodgers and Gershwin musical comedy to fill me with nostalgia. WKHR has been catering to the Greatest Generation for over forty years

While keeping my memories alive this morning, I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer a station like WKHRwill continue to exist playing music of the ‘30s, ‘40s and ‘50s. There must be a rapidly shrinking audience for this vintage music. My children are not ‘spring chickens’ but the WHKR programming holds no listening attraction for them. I also wondered when the music of the Gay ‘90s was last played on the air waves. For that matter it appears that music of the Roaring Twenties and radio have parted company. I’m not upset that my radio does not blare out music of the nineties ( nineteenth century nineties that is) or the twenties. I’m sure that when my kind of pop music disappears from the air waves, the Baby Boomers, X Generation and what have you, will not miss it. I return their music appreciation by deploring Rock, Rap and the shouting and screaming which pose as an excuse for music. If that makes me a music snob, so be it.

I realize that as long as I have a shelf to store CD’s or an iPod or MP3 I can preserve any kind of music I like for as long as I like and play it to my heart’s content ( with ear buds if necessary) . Now the iPad, Kindle and Nook are here to further enhance going back to the past with music. But that’s not the point. When music disappears from the radio, a statement is made. The way of life that that music represented becomes history. That way of life becomes a curiosity. That way of life is not relevant any longer. If I’m still around when my pop music is stilled on the air waves, I will play my stored music knowing that time has passed me by.

Before I’m accused of generation warfare , I must take refuge in one field of music that has existed on the air waves for generations and will continue to exist for generations to come. Classical music has stood the test of time. I and my children and grandchildren share the music of Beethoven, Mozart, Mahler, Tchaikovsky, Gershwin. The operas of Rossini, Verdi, Mozart, Puccini, Wagner will continue to live on. Classical music provides common ground for people of all ages and cultures. Fortunately in this area we have FM stations such as WKSU and WCLV to keep that music alive and yes to keep our memories alive.

Which reminds me. Clevelanders lament the failure of their sports teams to win a national championship. They should rest easy in knowing that we have an international champion in The Cleveland Orchestra. But I digress.

Sometimes I wonder if keeping memories alive is healthy. My youth also had its bad moments which I would rather forget. Some say that dwelling on yesterday is a disease of the old. No cure is available except death - I prefer not to cure the disease but to nurture it and even now , learn from it.

In the background I can hear Sinatra singing “ I Did It My Way”. So I did, so I did. Time to turn the radio off.

　

　

Lord Gingrich Has A Plan For The Poor

CNN's Poltical Ticker reported that in a speech last Friday at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government, Newt Gingrich said that laws preventing child labor are 'truly stupid'. He was quoted as saying, "It is tragic what we do in the poorest neighborhoods, entrapping children in child laws which are truly stupid," Saying to people you shouldn't go to work before you're 14, 16. You're totally poor, you're in a school that's failing with a teacher that's failing."

It seems that Gingrich would have poor children doing the work of janitors in schools. Putting the little ones to work would allow them to learn good work ethics and pave the way for success later in life.

In my opinion, a ten year old poor student spending time scrubbing floors in a school while a ten year old rich student spends his time working on school assignments would be at a distinct disadvantage in the race to success. Charles Dickens, if he were alive, would have material for  a book using Newt's vision for poor students. I guess that book has already been written.

What Lord Gingrich did not address is that child labor laws were designed to stop the abuse of poor children by rich capitalists. They became necessary because child labor was preventing many from achieving the 'American Dream'. I remember my early school days when a large percentage of children never got past the eighth grade. Parents sent them to work.Sometimes children need to be protected from parents as well as rich capitalists.

My father worked in a textile mill at the age of fifteen. He learned enough about child labor to make sure that his children got a good education. I suppose Lord Gingrich would argue that in reality, my father working as a child laborer became successful in later life as evidenced by his children going to college.

By the way what happens to those janitors who lose their job because a ten year old is doing a half ass job as a custodian for a lot less money?

What next from this crop of wannabe presidents? Grrrrrr!!!!

Toys I Remember

Watching tree leaves accumulate on the lawn during a blustery fall morning reminded me of fall leaves making their way into a salt sack and finding another life as a football in my youth. The Depression years were very innovative when it came to toys. A few examples:

- Salt sack packed with dried leaves - a.k.a. football

- Coffee can dented from being kicked -  a.k.a. soccer ball

- Electric tape wrapped around a ball - a.k.a. recycled baseball

- Orange crate on a 2x4 with skate wheels on either end - a.k.a. scooter 

 - Bushel basket sans bottom, attached to a telephone pole - a.k.a. basketball court

-  Marbles - still around  but much more expensive

 - Pocket knife & tree stump - games of skill like mumbledy-peg, “baseball”

 - Broom stick - a.k.a. baseball bat

- Clothes pin, inner tube cut into bands, scrap lumber - a.k.a. rubber band gun 

- Clothes line - a.k.a. jump rope

Hold everything! I think I wrote about most of these toys before. Sure enough, there it is in the archives - “Games I remember”, 8/25/2010. Oops - most of what’s in this post was covered over a year ago. Well, at leastl give me credit for using a different title.  At the rate I’m going, I may find myself “accidentally” recycling a few other posts. I'll bet that some of those Campaign 2008 posts will come in handy as Campaign 2012 revs up. Everyone is promising  to turn the country into Utopia, just like they did four years ago.

Actually I shouldn't be so defensive about this post. It does prove that history repeats itself and more importantly it proves that even though the hair is whiter and the teeth  sparser, the memory cells are in good shape.  Now what was it I was trying to prove with all these words. A few more keystrokes and it will come to me.  QWERTY? That's not it. Maybe it will come to me next time I sit down to write a post. Right now I need to find some salt sacks to get rid of those leaves on my lawn. What in hell will I do with all those footballs? Maybe I could create a blog to market them.

Columbus Gets No Respect These Days

Christoforo Colombo

In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue! In honor of this historic trip, we choose to observe Columbus Day today. This is a bit traumatic for me, since in my youth we always observed Columbus Day on October 12th. It used to be an important holiday complete with a parade followed by a speech at monument erected in his honor. For some reason or other the Christopher Columbus monument was in East Utica. It may have had something to with East Utica being heavily populated by Italian Americans. Columbus got a lot of respect in those days. After all  he was credited with discovering America. Now it seems some Viking preceded him and Columbus was an also ran. Columbus still gets some respect as a navigator and so far a pseudo holiday is still named after him. About the only business shut down today is the U. S. mail. That's not surprising, rumor has it that the USPS will be celebrating a lot of mail holidays. All is not lost as far as celebrating Columbus Day is concerned. The high primal has a celebration all planned. We're off to Macy's for the Columbus Day sale! Thanks Chris, for nothing.

( Worth a read - Whatever Happened To Columbus Day?)