Never again! We've all heard the phrase. A slogan taken up by victims of the Holocaust of World War Two. Just a two word phrase meant to give strength to morally right minded people to stand up to atrocities wherever they may be rise.
In 1948, after the Nuremberg trials, member states of the United Nations General Assembly, repulsed by the scale of crimes committed by Nazi Germany passed the Genocide Convention. The signatories agreed to punish perpetrators who oppressed and murdered victims simply because they belonged to an "undesirable" national, ethnic or religious group. The moral consensus in the United States and the rest of the world was that these crimes against humanity should "never again" happen.
The phrase has gone on to be the slogan of the Jewish Defense League and is a sort of rally cry in the face of injustices being brought upon any group. It is meant to solidify the resolve of people, of nations, everywhere to not allow a group to be put upon by another because they dislike their ideas, the color of their skin or the way they worship.
In the America I grew up in, we seemed to embody the meaning of this phrase. We, as a nation, would not let it happen again. The civil rights movement made us look into what we had done to African-Americans. Then the truth of what was done to Japanese-Americans became public. But, the country faced these atrocities of our own and tried to make right the wrong that was done with the echo of that phrase present throughout. Never again!
Now, we find ourselves faced with a deadly threat coming from a number of members of a religious faith. This is a dangerous worldwide threat and many are looking to blame the entire faith for these actions. The Islamic State, a radicalized branch of the Muslim faith, kills indiscriminately on their quest for a new Caliphate. They post their depraved videos of beheading western journalists and hostages for the world to see. Many see this as an all out war against western civilization. However, the killings of fellow Muslims is vastly outnumbering that of non-Muslims. Thousands of Muslims continue to flee the embattled regions. Many hoping to get their children out of harm's way.
Never the less, we now have a faction in this country who believe we should not allow refugees from the Middle East to come to this country because of their religious belief. There is a leading candidate for the office of the President of the United States who believes we should shut down places of worship. He wants to ban any Muslim from entering the United States. He wants members of a religious group to carry identification papers. Will he next suggest they should have the star and crescent sewn onto their garments?
Is this how it starts? Is this how it began in 1929 Germany? Will Americans garner such hatred towards a group of people to once again bring us to the brink of segregating them away from the rest of society? We are already at the point where otherwise sane, logical people are out buying weapons. People who had never in their lives entertained the thought of owning a gun are now standing in line waiting to get their hands on a Glock or Ruger. Will these gun-wielding citizens follow in lock-step with the Donald?
This campaign of Donald Trump's has stopped being amusing. His talk of collecting data and issuing ID's for a certain class of American citizens is dangerous. Dangerous because he continues to have rising poll numbers. This means others believe as he does, that it is just fine to take away the rights of people in order to feel safe. Would we be alright watching our Muslim neighbors being "relocated"? Do you think this sounds far-fetched? I don't, not after I listen to people being interviewed as they exit a Donald Trump rally.
Not again? I'm not so sure about that, anymore.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Just a Couple of Months
A couple of months. That's all it took, a couple of months. I had visions of myself enjoying the feeling for... a while, not just a couple of months. In the back of my mind, I kept wondering how long it would last. Each new day, I would breath in and wonder... when will this stop. You keep it to the back of your mind though and you just enjoy. You do tend to forget about it. Every once in a while, you might buckle up and it comes back to you and you just crack a little smile.
However, that day comes. You climb into that vehicle that you're starting to get very comfortable with and you notice. For the first time, something is missing. You notice, this now just smells like your car. It's not a bad smell, I keep the car clean. But, it's not that new car smell!
Dealerships must have cans of this stuff to spray into cars. Nowadays, even used cars, I'm sorry, previously owned vehicles come with that new car smell. There is a feeling, though. A feeling that you get sitting in the car and smelling that smell. And, after you sign those papers, you drive off the lot and that baby is now yours, you take pride in that smell. When friends get in for their first ride, they've looked around the car and given you an approving nod, then they settle in and you watch as they start to fill their lungs. Then, they look over at you and you see the hint of a smile. Yeah, that's a new car smell.
Well, you get to enjoy that smell every time you open the door and step in. As the days go by, you drive along and that new car smell is giving you a feeling that has a smile stuck to it. You don't have to smile, you're just tooling around and that smile is planted in your head somewhere. You enjoy the ride, you play with a few gadgets on the dash, you give a glance into the back seat, you might even go a week without opening the windows, maybe two weeks. You get in, you get out, you get back in, you're thinking to yourself, this car is really something. The thing is, a lot of that might just be because of that new car smell.
Of course, then you really do start to take ownership of car. You not only transport yourself from work and back, you start to do errands. You do the grocery shopping. You pick up a few things at Home Depot. You get dressed up for a night out with the wife, you might even decide its time to take a little trip. Maybe, just a couple of days. A night or two at that motel/resort you've been to before. Well, maybe that's when it starts to wear off. Now, you're carrying a few things with their own special aroma, shall we say. You've had some fruits and vegetables in there, you've traveled with a couple of different coats, oh yeah, you had to bring laundry back with you, but it was a nice trip.
So, that's what happens and one day after work, you open the door, you get in, buckle up and you notice it's not there. You take a couple of extra sniffs. Nope, it's gone. That new car smell is no longer there. Yeah, there's a little feeling of melancholy, a little something has worn off your new toy. But, now, you can really start to fall in love with this machine. Now, you start really settling in and getting comfortable. This is the car you wanted. You might even start adjusting the bass and treble. You're not really adding any unpleasant odors, you're just putting your own unique stamp on the vehicle.
And, you know what, if you really find yourself missing that new car smell, I really do think the dealerships have it in spray can form.
However, that day comes. You climb into that vehicle that you're starting to get very comfortable with and you notice. For the first time, something is missing. You notice, this now just smells like your car. It's not a bad smell, I keep the car clean. But, it's not that new car smell!
Dealerships must have cans of this stuff to spray into cars. Nowadays, even used cars, I'm sorry, previously owned vehicles come with that new car smell. There is a feeling, though. A feeling that you get sitting in the car and smelling that smell. And, after you sign those papers, you drive off the lot and that baby is now yours, you take pride in that smell. When friends get in for their first ride, they've looked around the car and given you an approving nod, then they settle in and you watch as they start to fill their lungs. Then, they look over at you and you see the hint of a smile. Yeah, that's a new car smell.
Well, you get to enjoy that smell every time you open the door and step in. As the days go by, you drive along and that new car smell is giving you a feeling that has a smile stuck to it. You don't have to smile, you're just tooling around and that smile is planted in your head somewhere. You enjoy the ride, you play with a few gadgets on the dash, you give a glance into the back seat, you might even go a week without opening the windows, maybe two weeks. You get in, you get out, you get back in, you're thinking to yourself, this car is really something. The thing is, a lot of that might just be because of that new car smell.
Of course, then you really do start to take ownership of car. You not only transport yourself from work and back, you start to do errands. You do the grocery shopping. You pick up a few things at Home Depot. You get dressed up for a night out with the wife, you might even decide its time to take a little trip. Maybe, just a couple of days. A night or two at that motel/resort you've been to before. Well, maybe that's when it starts to wear off. Now, you're carrying a few things with their own special aroma, shall we say. You've had some fruits and vegetables in there, you've traveled with a couple of different coats, oh yeah, you had to bring laundry back with you, but it was a nice trip.
So, that's what happens and one day after work, you open the door, you get in, buckle up and you notice it's not there. You take a couple of extra sniffs. Nope, it's gone. That new car smell is no longer there. Yeah, there's a little feeling of melancholy, a little something has worn off your new toy. But, now, you can really start to fall in love with this machine. Now, you start really settling in and getting comfortable. This is the car you wanted. You might even start adjusting the bass and treble. You're not really adding any unpleasant odors, you're just putting your own unique stamp on the vehicle.
And, you know what, if you really find yourself missing that new car smell, I really do think the dealerships have it in spray can form.
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Well, I've Got My Health
I have been very lucky in my life. I have always been reasonably healthy. I have had very few illnesses through the last six decades. I've had a couple of broken bones, I think I might have had my tonsils out, I've still got my appendix although I'm not sure what its doing for me, I've never had any major surgery, a few colds, a flu here and there, a couple of whopper sunburns, a recent bout with pneumonia and mononucleosis when I was a second grader. Sorry, I can't kiss and tell about that one. Anyway, the point is I'm healthy. And, believe me, its not like I've worked at this. In fact, a lot of times the exact opposite was true.
In high school, I had my share of drinking parties and foolish pranks and stunts. In my twenties, I took up smoking along with turning drinking into an art form. I experimented with whatever drug was handy at the time, I drove recklessly and I took stupid risks. Through all of this I stayed pretty healthy.
When you have your health, it's very easy to take it for granted. When you come across sick people sometimes you get that little feeling and you say to yourself, "I'm glad I'm not that poor bastard". Of course, as you grow up and hopefully you get more responsible, you try to help others, you give to charities, but there still might be a little of that, "Damn, I'm glad that's not me." feeling.
However, the whole concept of health starts cutting deep when people close to you are on the wrong end. When close friends and relatives start getting sick, seriously sick, attitudes change. When you're faced with the prospect of losing someone you care about then you wish there was a way you could share being healthy.
I've watched parents and in-laws suffer and die. Yeah, it's that circle of life thing that the aged go forth before the young but the loss is still painful. Then, I've had some really tight friends get ill and have to fight like hell, some have lost the fight. I've had my siblings suffer through ailments and sometimes you find yourself giving the only thing you can, comfort.
These things make me appreciate the health I have. I try to take better care of myself these days. I've learned to be thankful for my good luck. I try to help family and friends fight the battles they get stuck with because I can. When you have your health and others don't, I'm finding that maybe the best thing to do is be there.
In high school, I had my share of drinking parties and foolish pranks and stunts. In my twenties, I took up smoking along with turning drinking into an art form. I experimented with whatever drug was handy at the time, I drove recklessly and I took stupid risks. Through all of this I stayed pretty healthy.
When you have your health, it's very easy to take it for granted. When you come across sick people sometimes you get that little feeling and you say to yourself, "I'm glad I'm not that poor bastard". Of course, as you grow up and hopefully you get more responsible, you try to help others, you give to charities, but there still might be a little of that, "Damn, I'm glad that's not me." feeling.
However, the whole concept of health starts cutting deep when people close to you are on the wrong end. When close friends and relatives start getting sick, seriously sick, attitudes change. When you're faced with the prospect of losing someone you care about then you wish there was a way you could share being healthy.
I've watched parents and in-laws suffer and die. Yeah, it's that circle of life thing that the aged go forth before the young but the loss is still painful. Then, I've had some really tight friends get ill and have to fight like hell, some have lost the fight. I've had my siblings suffer through ailments and sometimes you find yourself giving the only thing you can, comfort.
These things make me appreciate the health I have. I try to take better care of myself these days. I've learned to be thankful for my good luck. I try to help family and friends fight the battles they get stuck with because I can. When you have your health and others don't, I'm finding that maybe the best thing to do is be there.
Sunday, July 20, 2014
One Giant Leap
July 20th is one of those dates that will always stick in my head. It's like June 6 or December 7. I always stop and reflect a little on these dates. D-Day and Pearl Harbor stuck with me because of my father. These dates were huge with him and there was no way I'd forget them after hearing about his experiences on those days, every year!
I suppose if you live through historic events the dates will stay with you. I'll always remember where I was for November 22, 1963 the same with June 6, 1968. Those tragic dates seem to get seared into everyone's memory banks. July 20, 1969 wasn't like that. That summer day 45 years ago was more of an exciting day for me.
I was always a space nut when I was a kid. Early on, I remember watching the adventures of Captain Midnight and he had a Skyrocket that he named the Silver Dart. He didn't exactly go into space, but that Silver Dart flew pretty high. Then there was Men Into Space. This was a show with astronaut Col. McCauley, played by actor William Lundigan, who's name was close enough that I thought we could be related. Anyway, this show had moon landings and space stations, this was the real deal, my friends. Then, of course, I had to have props. I must have had a dozen different Aurora models of space crafts. I had the Mercury space capsule, the Gemini and Apollo capsules, the Lunar Landing Craft, sometimes different versions of each. I remember trying to talk my parents into letting me buy the 4 ft model of the Saturn V rocket complete with the Apollo spacecraft including Command Module, Service Module and Lunar Landing Module. Hell, what kid wouldn't want that. Of course, I never got it.
Throughout the sixties, I followed what was really happening in the race to space. I would sit in front of the television as Walter Cronkite would explain what was happening. Not to mention he had every plastic model you could ever dream about. But, he would use those models to explain how the astronauts were carrying out their missions. He showed you how they would open the hatch of the Gemini capsule to perform the first space walk. This was fantastic stuff for me.
So, in the summer of 1969, I had to stay glued to the television as Apollo 11 took off on one of mankind's greatest adventures. Unfortunately, my father felt that high school aged kids should be out working for the summer. I did get a job that summer. I worked making sandwiches in a Lena Sub Shop on Western Ave. in Lynn. On July 20th, I was behind the counter working the evening shift.
Now, the way this moon landing worked, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin put the Lunar Module down in the Sea of Tranquility early in the day. Then, they sat there, waiting. What! You're on the moon for cryin' out loud! Open up that damn hatch and get out there. We want to know if there's green cheese there or blood sucking insects or big huge black monoliths. What are we waiting for?
Well, as Walter would tell us, they were to land then go to sleep for a while before taking the moon walks. However, I guess the astronauts were just as excited as the seventeen year old kid making foot long Italians at Lena's. So, I couldn't wait to get home and see this actually happen on television. One little problem for me was, I was the only one working the shop that night and I had to close up.
Now, I think closing time was 10pm, and the place had been very slow since earlier in the evening. I figured Tony Lena wasn't going to mind if I closed up early on such a historic occasion. About twenty past 9, four people walk in and stand there reading the big menu board and thinking and reading. Meanwhile, I'm tapping my foot looking at the clock. Finally, I shout out, "For Christ's sake, make a decision. There's people on the moon!" They walked out. I got home just in time to see that small step for man, which wasn't quite that small.
That was 46 years ago. I am really amazed that we don't have bases on the moon. That is what we were led to believe. It's as though we got there and that's it. Nothing left to do. There are those who believe we should be spending resources here on Earth. Make things better here. Yeah, well, how's that worked out? I believe man's destiny is to push the envelope, to explore the beyond. Somehow, I think ventures like the moon landing bring the human race together. Anyway, I thought it was fun while it lasted.
I suppose if you live through historic events the dates will stay with you. I'll always remember where I was for November 22, 1963 the same with June 6, 1968. Those tragic dates seem to get seared into everyone's memory banks. July 20, 1969 wasn't like that. That summer day 45 years ago was more of an exciting day for me.
I was always a space nut when I was a kid. Early on, I remember watching the adventures of Captain Midnight and he had a Skyrocket that he named the Silver Dart. He didn't exactly go into space, but that Silver Dart flew pretty high. Then there was Men Into Space. This was a show with astronaut Col. McCauley, played by actor William Lundigan, who's name was close enough that I thought we could be related. Anyway, this show had moon landings and space stations, this was the real deal, my friends. Then, of course, I had to have props. I must have had a dozen different Aurora models of space crafts. I had the Mercury space capsule, the Gemini and Apollo capsules, the Lunar Landing Craft, sometimes different versions of each. I remember trying to talk my parents into letting me buy the 4 ft model of the Saturn V rocket complete with the Apollo spacecraft including Command Module, Service Module and Lunar Landing Module. Hell, what kid wouldn't want that. Of course, I never got it.
Throughout the sixties, I followed what was really happening in the race to space. I would sit in front of the television as Walter Cronkite would explain what was happening. Not to mention he had every plastic model you could ever dream about. But, he would use those models to explain how the astronauts were carrying out their missions. He showed you how they would open the hatch of the Gemini capsule to perform the first space walk. This was fantastic stuff for me.
So, in the summer of 1969, I had to stay glued to the television as Apollo 11 took off on one of mankind's greatest adventures. Unfortunately, my father felt that high school aged kids should be out working for the summer. I did get a job that summer. I worked making sandwiches in a Lena Sub Shop on Western Ave. in Lynn. On July 20th, I was behind the counter working the evening shift.
Now, the way this moon landing worked, Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin put the Lunar Module down in the Sea of Tranquility early in the day. Then, they sat there, waiting. What! You're on the moon for cryin' out loud! Open up that damn hatch and get out there. We want to know if there's green cheese there or blood sucking insects or big huge black monoliths. What are we waiting for?
Well, as Walter would tell us, they were to land then go to sleep for a while before taking the moon walks. However, I guess the astronauts were just as excited as the seventeen year old kid making foot long Italians at Lena's. So, I couldn't wait to get home and see this actually happen on television. One little problem for me was, I was the only one working the shop that night and I had to close up.
Now, I think closing time was 10pm, and the place had been very slow since earlier in the evening. I figured Tony Lena wasn't going to mind if I closed up early on such a historic occasion. About twenty past 9, four people walk in and stand there reading the big menu board and thinking and reading. Meanwhile, I'm tapping my foot looking at the clock. Finally, I shout out, "For Christ's sake, make a decision. There's people on the moon!" They walked out. I got home just in time to see that small step for man, which wasn't quite that small.
That was 46 years ago. I am really amazed that we don't have bases on the moon. That is what we were led to believe. It's as though we got there and that's it. Nothing left to do. There are those who believe we should be spending resources here on Earth. Make things better here. Yeah, well, how's that worked out? I believe man's destiny is to push the envelope, to explore the beyond. Somehow, I think ventures like the moon landing bring the human race together. Anyway, I thought it was fun while it lasted.
Monday, June 16, 2014
The Gathering
This weekend is the annual golfing/kayaking trip with the guys. I look forward to this trip every year. There's a lot of men out there who have similar excursions. Yes, nothing like a weekend with the guys.
I think of my gathering as a little special, as I'm sure most guys do. You get together with a bunch of friends that you know you can let your hair down and just goof off. Throw back a few beers and make fun of each other's receding hair lines. If, you have any hair left. Yes, we laugh at our golf swings and how utterly graceful we are getting in and out of a kayak.
It's a little hard to explain just how special this particular gathering is. This group has been meeting for over 25 years. Paul is the one guy who has taken it upon himself to keep this thing going. It is safe to say that if he had not done so, it would not have lasted. Paul started this out of personal tragedy, it took on a life of its own but Paul is still the lifeblood of this assemblage. He is the organizer, the planner, the man with the whistle and clipboard.
This group is made up of a lot of guys who have known each other a very long time. The biggest common denominator is high school. Many of us graduated from the same school. Mostly from the classes of '69 and '70. However, there are some of us that go further back. There are a lot of us that went to CYO together, we were in the same Boy Scout Troop. Paul's father was our Scout Master back then. No doubt, Paul gets some of that planning stuff from his old man. There are a few of us, that were even in grade school together. It is quite something that some of this history lives in all of us. We knew each other when we were kids at school, at church, we went off to summer camp together, we shared experiences in our so-called formative years. We played cowboys and soldiers and gladiators together. We discovered rock and roll, grew our hair a little longer and started noticing girls. After high school, a lot of us went in different directions. There was college, the service, jobs, we had lives to live. Somehow, Paul was able to get a bunch of us back together and he has made us stay together once a year for over a quarter century.
As special as our gathering is, this year has a bit more of a special feel to it. Back in the fall, we lost a frequent member of our gang. Kevin was well liked by anyone who had ever met him. In any group there is always a core team. Kevin was part of that team. He knew the efforts that Paul went through to make this weekend happen every year and he made sure we recognized and thanked Paul. Kevin was what we all call a stand up guy.
So, this year, we will meet, we will goof off and make fun of our golf game but, in some way, I'm sure we will pay tribute to our friend Kevin. I'm sure Paul will make that happen. I'm also sure Paul will make sure we gather again next year.
I think of my gathering as a little special, as I'm sure most guys do. You get together with a bunch of friends that you know you can let your hair down and just goof off. Throw back a few beers and make fun of each other's receding hair lines. If, you have any hair left. Yes, we laugh at our golf swings and how utterly graceful we are getting in and out of a kayak.
It's a little hard to explain just how special this particular gathering is. This group has been meeting for over 25 years. Paul is the one guy who has taken it upon himself to keep this thing going. It is safe to say that if he had not done so, it would not have lasted. Paul started this out of personal tragedy, it took on a life of its own but Paul is still the lifeblood of this assemblage. He is the organizer, the planner, the man with the whistle and clipboard.
This group is made up of a lot of guys who have known each other a very long time. The biggest common denominator is high school. Many of us graduated from the same school. Mostly from the classes of '69 and '70. However, there are some of us that go further back. There are a lot of us that went to CYO together, we were in the same Boy Scout Troop. Paul's father was our Scout Master back then. No doubt, Paul gets some of that planning stuff from his old man. There are a few of us, that were even in grade school together. It is quite something that some of this history lives in all of us. We knew each other when we were kids at school, at church, we went off to summer camp together, we shared experiences in our so-called formative years. We played cowboys and soldiers and gladiators together. We discovered rock and roll, grew our hair a little longer and started noticing girls. After high school, a lot of us went in different directions. There was college, the service, jobs, we had lives to live. Somehow, Paul was able to get a bunch of us back together and he has made us stay together once a year for over a quarter century.
As special as our gathering is, this year has a bit more of a special feel to it. Back in the fall, we lost a frequent member of our gang. Kevin was well liked by anyone who had ever met him. In any group there is always a core team. Kevin was part of that team. He knew the efforts that Paul went through to make this weekend happen every year and he made sure we recognized and thanked Paul. Kevin was what we all call a stand up guy.
So, this year, we will meet, we will goof off and make fun of our golf game but, in some way, I'm sure we will pay tribute to our friend Kevin. I'm sure Paul will make that happen. I'm also sure Paul will make sure we gather again next year.
Saturday, May 24, 2014
Those Thrilling Days of Yesteryear
I follow a blog by a guy named Mark Evanier. He writes about movies, comics, TV, Broadway, cartoons and a bunch of other stuff. Mark has been a professional writer for many years. He's written for television and comics. I think I may have mentioned here that I like comics. Anyway, I can't remember how I stumbled upon his blog but I think it was a good find.
You see, the thing is, this guy Evanier is the same age as me. Actually, I think I have a couple of months on him. So, we grew up during the same times. Apparently, we watched the same television shows, went to the same movies on Saturday afternoons and, oh yeah, read the same comics. The only difference is, he grew up on the west coast and I grew up on the east coast.
It is pretty interesting reading his stuff. He writes a lot about the old stars of television like Milton Berle, Phil Silvers, Sid Caesar and a lot about obscure acts like comedian/songwriter Alan Sherman or that guy that would spin plates on The Ed Sullivan Show.
Like I say, being the same age he brings up a lot of the same stuff I remember. He talks about toys he had as a kid and I had some of that same junk. He writes about watching The 3 Stooges, Laurel & Hardy, Abbott & Costello and, yeah, I was watching the same stuff. A favorite TV show of his was The Dick Van Dyke Show, I watched it. He gets into the old Broadway musicals and I remember my mother had some of those soundtracks on vinyl. I listened to those things, not that there's anything wrong with that. He happens to be a huge fan of the movie It's A Mad, Mad, Mad World for some reason. I saw it and it was funny. I wouldn't go out of my way to see any chance I had, but apparently this guy Mark would.
Anyway, I like reading his stuff. You might say there is some sort of connection, same age, some of the same tastes, similar experiences, I told you about comics, right? It's kind of funny, all this shared stuff and we were a whole continent apart. Do you think the country was more of a community years ago? Kids who grew up in the fifties and sixties didn't have too many channels to choose from on the big console TV. Chances are a lot of people were watching the same thing. That doesn't happen much anymore. I wonder if that kind of thing has created more of a fragmented country. We'll see what memories folks will be blogging about in another thirty years.
However, if you came from the early fifties and were into the pop culture of the sixties, you might want to check out Mark Evanier's blog. He calls it News From Me. Here's a link NewsFromMe. Enjoy.
You see, the thing is, this guy Evanier is the same age as me. Actually, I think I have a couple of months on him. So, we grew up during the same times. Apparently, we watched the same television shows, went to the same movies on Saturday afternoons and, oh yeah, read the same comics. The only difference is, he grew up on the west coast and I grew up on the east coast.
It is pretty interesting reading his stuff. He writes a lot about the old stars of television like Milton Berle, Phil Silvers, Sid Caesar and a lot about obscure acts like comedian/songwriter Alan Sherman or that guy that would spin plates on The Ed Sullivan Show.
Like I say, being the same age he brings up a lot of the same stuff I remember. He talks about toys he had as a kid and I had some of that same junk. He writes about watching The 3 Stooges, Laurel & Hardy, Abbott & Costello and, yeah, I was watching the same stuff. A favorite TV show of his was The Dick Van Dyke Show, I watched it. He gets into the old Broadway musicals and I remember my mother had some of those soundtracks on vinyl. I listened to those things, not that there's anything wrong with that. He happens to be a huge fan of the movie It's A Mad, Mad, Mad World for some reason. I saw it and it was funny. I wouldn't go out of my way to see any chance I had, but apparently this guy Mark would.
Anyway, I like reading his stuff. You might say there is some sort of connection, same age, some of the same tastes, similar experiences, I told you about comics, right? It's kind of funny, all this shared stuff and we were a whole continent apart. Do you think the country was more of a community years ago? Kids who grew up in the fifties and sixties didn't have too many channels to choose from on the big console TV. Chances are a lot of people were watching the same thing. That doesn't happen much anymore. I wonder if that kind of thing has created more of a fragmented country. We'll see what memories folks will be blogging about in another thirty years.
However, if you came from the early fifties and were into the pop culture of the sixties, you might want to check out Mark Evanier's blog. He calls it News From Me. Here's a link NewsFromMe. Enjoy.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Musings from a Sunday Morning
I really love the Sunday newspaper. I get it delivered to the door or at least within a fifty meter radius from my door. Some mornings I'm reminded of Tony Soprano as I march down my driveway in my bathrobe to pick up the paper. It's almost always worth the trip, though.
Even though the Sunday paper is nowhere near as big as it once was, it's still worth the price. Not only do you have the news and sports from Saturday but you've got expanded sections about business, arts & entertainment, opinions, editorials and did I mention the comics. Yeah, the Sunday funnies aren't what they used to be. I miss The Phantom and Mandrake the Magician and, come on, everyone who can remember has a soft spot for Lil' Abner, right?
A great Sunday morning means a good pot of coffee and a couple of free hours to browse through the contents of the paper. I hope we never go completely digital because I like the feel of the newsprint spread out before me as I jump from story to story. It won't be the same just sliding my finger across my tablet. I'm sure the cat would miss walking through every article I happen to be reading, too.
I read a lot. I read much more than I write, you lucky bastards! Sundays I like reading a lot of the columnists. And, since everyone knows I'm the lefty liberal socialist commie that I am, I read the Sunday Boston Globe. There is a writer in the regional section that I happen to read a lot. Beverly Beckham is more of a lifestyle columnist. She touches on a lot of everyday stuff, a lot of it concerning being a mother and a grandmother. Mostly, she writes about life's little occurrences and how she perceives them. Hey, I happen to like it. What can I say.
Last Sunday, she wrote about another mother and author who happens to have a book coming out. This author, I'm not even remembering her name, started out as a blogger. She, too, wrote of the joys and foibles of motherhood. Her blog wasn't followed so much until she started inserting a few colorful words. Then, as the story goes, her blog took off. Now, I'm not a prude. I use raw language, a great deal actually. A lot of people do. One just needs to smash one's finger with a sledge hammer to find a suitable use for such language. However, this author started invoking these colorful words in describing her kids. Apparently, people loved it and she quickly had many hundreds of followers for her blog. Which brings us to her book, still unpublished it has a 5 rating on Amazon. Someone's gotta tell me how that works. Anyway, her book's title is I Heart My Little A--holes and, yes, she's talking about her kids.
Now, I'm not a parent but over the years as a real uncle and an honorary uncle, I've seen kids try to pull a lot of shit. The little urchins will try to get away with whatever they can. Have I screamed, "You little shit!" at a tot or two? Yeah, no doubt. However, I think compiling moments like that in book length form might be a little much. And, to come out and refer to your children as "My Little A--holes" has got to be crossing some sort of line. Yet, what does it say about readers who gobble this stuff up?
I think Beverly Beckham was making at least a couple of points in her column. She wondered why many readers may be drawn to the type of analogy that labels young children with pretty rough profanity. Maybe because it hits home more than we think, I guess. I certainly hope the swearing is laced with many more hugs and I love you's than you little a--hole. But, she also admonished the author for her lazy writing. She thought the author should have strived to be more creative about the relationship with her kids.
Beckham might be right. It may not be a great thing to put down in print what you're really thinking about the little brats. But, you know, if I found a way to make money writing about bitching at people, that would be tempting. I mean, maybe not like real little kids except that Honey Boo Boo bitch, but as they get older. That would be okay, I think, especially if we're talking like good money. Then, Beverly could write about how lazy she thinks I am and I'd be okay with that.
Even though the Sunday paper is nowhere near as big as it once was, it's still worth the price. Not only do you have the news and sports from Saturday but you've got expanded sections about business, arts & entertainment, opinions, editorials and did I mention the comics. Yeah, the Sunday funnies aren't what they used to be. I miss The Phantom and Mandrake the Magician and, come on, everyone who can remember has a soft spot for Lil' Abner, right?
A great Sunday morning means a good pot of coffee and a couple of free hours to browse through the contents of the paper. I hope we never go completely digital because I like the feel of the newsprint spread out before me as I jump from story to story. It won't be the same just sliding my finger across my tablet. I'm sure the cat would miss walking through every article I happen to be reading, too.
I read a lot. I read much more than I write, you lucky bastards! Sundays I like reading a lot of the columnists. And, since everyone knows I'm the lefty liberal socialist commie that I am, I read the Sunday Boston Globe. There is a writer in the regional section that I happen to read a lot. Beverly Beckham is more of a lifestyle columnist. She touches on a lot of everyday stuff, a lot of it concerning being a mother and a grandmother. Mostly, she writes about life's little occurrences and how she perceives them. Hey, I happen to like it. What can I say.
Last Sunday, she wrote about another mother and author who happens to have a book coming out. This author, I'm not even remembering her name, started out as a blogger. She, too, wrote of the joys and foibles of motherhood. Her blog wasn't followed so much until she started inserting a few colorful words. Then, as the story goes, her blog took off. Now, I'm not a prude. I use raw language, a great deal actually. A lot of people do. One just needs to smash one's finger with a sledge hammer to find a suitable use for such language. However, this author started invoking these colorful words in describing her kids. Apparently, people loved it and she quickly had many hundreds of followers for her blog. Which brings us to her book, still unpublished it has a 5 rating on Amazon. Someone's gotta tell me how that works. Anyway, her book's title is I Heart My Little A--holes and, yes, she's talking about her kids.
Now, I'm not a parent but over the years as a real uncle and an honorary uncle, I've seen kids try to pull a lot of shit. The little urchins will try to get away with whatever they can. Have I screamed, "You little shit!" at a tot or two? Yeah, no doubt. However, I think compiling moments like that in book length form might be a little much. And, to come out and refer to your children as "My Little A--holes" has got to be crossing some sort of line. Yet, what does it say about readers who gobble this stuff up?
I think Beverly Beckham was making at least a couple of points in her column. She wondered why many readers may be drawn to the type of analogy that labels young children with pretty rough profanity. Maybe because it hits home more than we think, I guess. I certainly hope the swearing is laced with many more hugs and I love you's than you little a--hole. But, she also admonished the author for her lazy writing. She thought the author should have strived to be more creative about the relationship with her kids.
Beckham might be right. It may not be a great thing to put down in print what you're really thinking about the little brats. But, you know, if I found a way to make money writing about bitching at people, that would be tempting. I mean, maybe not like real little kids except that Honey Boo Boo bitch, but as they get older. That would be okay, I think, especially if we're talking like good money. Then, Beverly could write about how lazy she thinks I am and I'd be okay with that.
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