Saturday, May 30, 2009

"It is Fortune, not wisdom that rule's man's life." (Cicero)

.....Well, it seems that a blog about grandchildren brings out the liberals and the conservatives; so far 15 comments is a new record. I even got a few anonymouses and one name I don't recognize. Even Phil Bergovoy, the Genghis Khan of Guttenberg, deigned to weigh in with Phil-osophical thoughts and aphorisms of his own. The comparison between me, (the whiner?) and King Lear is perceptive--except for the fact that Lear went mad because of Goneril and Regan--his two abusive daughters. I don't plan to go mad because of my relationship with Hannah--and the other grandchildren. My own two daughters are royal princesses and I know them very well and I love them. As I iterated in my blog, no one is to blame for this state of affairs. The exigencies of our lives is the primary cause. Perhaps things may change as they get older and wiser and more in need of a grandparent--but they better hurry--I'm also getting older, but perhaps not wiser. I wish I could be like Mark Twain.
.....Speaking of getting older, it appears as though some healthless things accompany you each day. Yesterday my dermatologist called and said the results of a lab test indicated that I have a "Clark 2 melanoma" on my left leg, (whatever that is) and a "squamos cell" on my right cheek. So, tomorrow we have to call a surgeon and an oncologist to check out the melanoma, and another surgeon to get out the cancerous cell in my cheek with "mohs" surgery. Now I hope Anonymous doesn't step up and claim that my blog is whinery. I'm just stating some facts without feeling sorry for myself. It's just that s..t happens; I know that--but I'm going to fight it all the way.
.....I have nothing else to say.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

"If nothing is going well, call your grandparents." (Anon)

.....I’m not so sure as to where this blog is going to take me today, but I am not going to dodge the challenge. There are no parents in Huntington Lakes, only grandparents, and for many years I have been admiring the warm and loving relationships I observe that my friends share with their grandchildren. They touch each other on holidays, birthdays, graduations, anniversaries, and on many another occasion that offers an opportunity for family gatherings—more often in Florida than anywhere the children and grandchildren happen to live. The reason for this, I imagine, is because many of the residents here are elderly and too frail for any lengthy traveling. They can’t wander too far away from their doctors. And that includes me.
…..Unfortunately, and blamelessly, I have not had a close relationship with my own grandchildren, who now that they are all in their 20s and pursuing their careers, have--sad to
say
-- become to me more like mere acquaintances. I don't know them, and I fear they don't know me. I have not had the opportunity to share their lives to any great degree as they were growing up. My son, Joel, whose work with the government took him to England, Panama, and Japan for long periods of time while raising two children, precluded my being able to see them to hold them, to kiss them, to take them places, in short--to grandparent them and to spoil them. …..Consequently, I’m not certain that they even knew what a grandparent was—except on the few occasions that we did get to see them when their parents said—“Oh, say hello to Grandpa and Grandma.”—a dictum which they obeyed, shyly and perhaps, reluctantly.
.....These days, Hannah, an NYU grad is working as a successful fashion photographer for several magazines in California, and Adam, having graduated from George Mason University, now has his own computer graphics business. We rarely hear from either of them.
…..My son, Bobby, lived in California before he moved to Virginia to sell Harley bikes. His daughter, although schooled in Virginia, remained still a California girl. Although she was warm and friendly, Rhoda and I did not get to see her very often, even though we invited her and any friend to spend her holidays with us. She never took advantage of that offer. Now, Katrina is in the Navy, stationed in Hawaii, and who knows when we will meet again. Although she professes love for us, and I have no reason not to believe her, we rarely hear from her in spite of the fact that she probably has a cell phone and access to a computer.
…..Robin, though not with children of her own, still was mother to Richard Higgins’ daughter, Chrissy, and raised her for most of her childhood days. But after her father’s death, Chrissy left Robin—and Rhoda and me, hardly ever to be seen again—the last time at the commissioning of the USS HIGGINS several years ago.
….My daughter Bonny, who owns a dog-grooming business in California has done a wonderful job with her son, Sean, who is an accomplished surfer and who earns his living in a summer camp teaching children and adults how to surf . Sean is also a talented artist who has done some wonderful paintings which eventually, no doubt, will benefit and prosper from his maturity. Sean and I have had several long phone conversations, and I have edited some of the papers he has had to write for school. But California is a long way from Florida—and Grandpa.
…..We have always remembered our grandchildren’s graduations and their birthdays with financial gifts, but written “thank you” notes were not always forthcoming. Rhoda and I never receive birthday or anniversary or Mothers’ Day or Fathers’ Day or Grandparents’ Day greetings. I never get a phone call from any of them on Veterans’ or Memorial Day to thankfully honor the fact that their existence is owed to me as the patriarch of the family. I managed to return from the war just in time to spawn their parents—who incidentally are a very loving and close knit sibling group—and that’s a blessing. I doubt, too, that any of my grandchildren have ever read my “Memoirs” or that they ever read this blog. I suppose reading is not one of the skills or interests of their generation.
…..Now, some might say, “Why don’t you call them? Why don’t you write to them?” Well, no doubt that is good advice, but motivation in this direction wanes when there is so little response. Well, my purpose in writing this blog is what the Greeks call “catharsis”. Blogging is my medium. There is no blame for this unfortunate situation…at least I’m not blaming anyone. This is just what is, and what it is, and life’s vagaries is responsible. Time to move on.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

My Band of Brothers in Fleet Air Wing 7

.....May 30th is Memorial Day--although it is being celebrated tomorrow. However, I will celebrate it today, although it is really not a "celebration". It is time, however, to remember the boys who fought by your side in the long ago war. After radio and radar school and after aerial gunnery school we were all brought together, including our flight officers, one day in Key West to become the crew of a PB4Y (B-24) Liberator, a war plane packing a dozen 50 caliber machine guns, all but four of them activated hydraulically. There were two in the nose turret, two in the top turret, two in the belly turret, two in the tail turret and four in the waste hatches operated manually. Our officers were the navigator John Egan, the Co-pilot, Lieut. Leo Brougham, and our pilot, Lieut. Arthur Noehren.
.....Our enlisted crew consisted of two radio/radar operators, Hal Mack and the guy called "Rosie"--namely me; then there was Howard Lee, our leader, a guy who was a farmer back in Maine or Vermont, as I recall. Howard was a mild-mannered, soft-spoken, pipe smoking young man--although slightly older than the rest of us, and whose homely drawl fell pleasingly on our ears. Howard was our flight engineer who took care of all the mechanical problems on the plane as they cropped up. His assistant was Paul Gordon who hailed from Maryland where he had just gotten married.
.....Our three ordnance men were John Shekitka, from a Pennsylvania coal mining family; Don "Doc" Fraser, from Brooklyn with a sense of humor that kept us all laughing and relaxed, and Norman England from Connecticut whose family ran a typewriter and office supply store. For the uninitiated, ordnance men were in charge of the armory on the plane--keeping the guns and the bomb bay in operating condition. And then, of course, there was our Scotch Terrier, Bombs Away, and our Fox Terrier, Yank, both of whom gave us lip-licking and tail-wagging welcomes when we returned to our quonset hut from a mission.
.....All on our crew were under 21, except for the officers; and all have gone to a better place than here, with the exception of Harold Mack and myself--strangely enough, the two radio operators. All of the boys and men on this crew flew combat missions together for many months in Europe, and war tends to weld together a unit like ours as inextricably as mortise and tenon, never to be separated.
.....So, on this Memorial Day, I take a minute to remember you, John and Arthur and Leo and England and "Doc" and Paul and Shekitka and Howard. No one who has never been where we have been will ever know or truly understand the meaning of a Band of Brothers.
.....Hal and I are now over 85 years old, and feeling it. But we both have a mission today, and we will accept it.
Sic transit gloria mundi

Friday, May 22, 2009

"Men willingly believe what they wish." (Julius Caesar)

.....Yesterday in my blog I discussed "misconceived perceptions", and it got me to consider what people think when they notice that for a long time I have worn replicas of my combat aircrew wings and my Air and DFC medals on my suspenders and on my hats. I can imagine that some may think that I am taking too much notice of myself by that practice. If so, that is a fine example of a misconceived perception--and one that is completely wrong. The fact is that I have done that to honor comrades who never made it back, and that has been my sole purpose. The strange thing is that I can't recall anyone ever asking me the reason for displaying those replicas; so, if anyone misconceives the purpose of my wearing them, I can hardly blame them. I am fairly certain that no one would think of the truth; I wear them to memorialize my buddies. After the coming Memorial Day, however, I will discontinue the practice--except on my hat. I just can't go out without a hat. Don't ask me why. And don't wish anyone a "Happy Memorial Day".
.....Today Rhoda came with me to the VA Hospital because I was having my eyes dilated for a retinal examination. A resent blood test showed that my blood sugar was high and somehow, I don't know why, a retinal exam is required if one is borderline diabetic. What that has to do with my retinas is a medical mystery which I will research on "google". Google knows everything. Of course, that belies Socrate's belief that the only thing he knows is that he knows nothing. Nevertheless, Socrates never had the advantage of googling when he wanted to know something. Inevitably, when you google anything it takes you right to the Wikepedia Online Encyclopedia. I don't know what I would do without it.
.....Since my eyes were dilated, Rhoda drove almost all the way home. We stopped at a plaza where you can get a Nathan's hot dog and fries. I had the hot dog and she had a strawberry smoothie. She always opts for the healthy food, not that I'm aware if a smoothie is healthy, but probably beats a hot dog. It was a mid-afternoon snack, and tonite we are going to Duffy's where I can indulge myself in their lobster bisque, perhaps not so healthy by Rhoda's standards, but I'll have it anyway and have something healthy tomorrow like baby back ribs, maybe.
.....This summer is very hot and we are in the rainy season. You don't want to get caught driving in a rain storm down here; very scary and dangerous. We really don't want to hang around here all summer, so we may just drive to Biloxi and stay at the Beau Rivage, a hotel and casino that we like very much. We took this trip once before and enjoyed it. So we have no qualms about doing it again. (I'll have to look up "qualms"). You may have suspected that I'm really struggling with this blog. I felt like writing something--anything--and so I have. None of the paragraphs have anything to do with each other. Each is a separate entity. And so to sup.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

"The greater the truth, the greater the libel." (Lord Ellenborough)

.....It was back in 1970 something while I was Chairman of the English Dep't. at North Shore H.S. that I hired a young man whose record in college was excellent. He had classes in the kind of courses I felt were sine qua non for any teacher in my department--that is, light on the "education" classes and heavy on the content classes for anyone who expected to teach English. It wasn't long, however, before he began to cause me problems when he would become angry and contentious whenever I entered his classroom to observe and evaluate his teaching. I tried to explain to him that it was part of my job description to do just that and not to be threatened by me. But it wasn't good enough for him. He claimed I was jealous of him because he was "a better writer and poet", than I was and that he was a better teacher. I could not have cared less about what he thought and because he apparently did not care about learning to teach, I did not renew his contract. I felt it was better for him to rant and rave somewhere else.
.....But this was not the first time that someone misread me during my career. I never did like to be an administrator, even though I had a Principal's Certificate, and I could have advanced myself, at least financially if I chose to. Eventually, I resigned my chairmanship so that I could continue to teach and to coach soccer and track and field; the Board of Education had decided that I could not chair the department and coach at the same time. They were wrong. From that point on, whenever sparks fell between teachers in the department and the Board concerning curriculum and other matters, I was coronated as the troublemaker, mainly because I was still thought to be the "guru" of the English Dep't. with the power secretly to advise the teachers what to do. Well, they were wrong. I had nothing to do with any of those problems. I was too busy teaching and coaching and raising my family. But, I was never comfortable in being thought of in a negative way when the truth was not as others perceived it to be.
.....I am writing about misconceived human perceptions primarily because I read an article in today's newspaper about the actor, Christian Bale who had played in "Batman" as well as "The Dark Knight" films and who is continuing the saga of John Connor, the human Resistance leader in a post-apocalyptic world, in the fourth installment of "The Terminator" -- released this week. Bale feels that people might be wary of him because he has made headlines more for his off-screen actions than onscreen talents lately. There was an incident last summer with his mother and sister in London, when he was arrested and questioned by police; then an expletive-laden rant from the set of his latest film that leaked online--and spread like wildfire. Right now, Bale says, "people seem to have this perception of me which couldn't be more wrong." And back when I was well along in my own career, and being successful at it, and even now in my retirement, I know that there are those who carry a perception of me which "couldn't be more wrong." Bale goes on to say, "It's not bad to have people misunderstand you completely." I'm not so sure about that.
.....I've always been unabashedly passionate about anything and everything I've attempted to do, be it at combat in a war, or striving for academic achievements, or keeping the memory of my lost comrades alive--at least in my own mind, or running marathons, or seeking excellence as a teacher, or performing in the theatre here in Huntington Lakes--or even in writing blogs. And I do respect, always, each and every person's job. If they are my friends, I'm always there for them. Ah, well, if you, yourself, know the real truth, along with true friends, perhaps it's not so bad to have some people misunderstand you completely, after all. You just go on and try to be the person you've strived to be all your life.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

"The prickly thorn often bears soft roses." (Ovid)

.....This afternoon my computer went kerplooie--ADIH. Strange things happened after I tried to open Barbara's e-mail (daughter-in-law) attachment relating to my blog yesterday about the clothing in my closet manufactured in antique lands. Now, I believe her e-mail may have had nothing to do with the computer's peevishness--then, again, I don't know. Anyway, my Links tool bar fell below my Comcast tool bar, and I couldn't get it back to where it was. In addition several of the links disappeared into linkland, and the word "Links" went from the extreme right side to the extreme left side of the tool bar...perhaps it was political?? I couldn't get it back to the right side. Maybe JR can fix it if it's not against the law. I tried to use the Restore program, but whatever date I put in back from today, the message came back, "Unable to restore to the date you selected." I thought that was really mean spirited. That never happened since I became a computer whizinot, and that's been a very long time. But I was cagey enough to drag some of my lost web sites back onto the half-naked links toolbar.


....And speaking of "broken" things, I have to leave for an appointment with my law firm's chiropractor in just a few minutes...so in keeping up with the spirit of breakiness, I have to break away from this for a couple of hours. (AAMOF, if you've been keeping up with these blogs you will have noticed that periodically I use a neologism to shake things up a bit--they just pop into my head i.e. "breakiness". I believe it's a perfectly good word meaning "tendency to break").....BBIAW. O.K. I'm back and you may have noticed that I included in the blog some "texting"--now I'm an expert WOAIP. And I really don't want one. The texting is there to add a little spice to a blog needing a little spice. AAR, I spent an hour and a half at the chiropractor our lawyer sent me to, and he was a very good one. He put me through some paces that, hopefully, will alleviate or cure the pains I'm feeling in my back as a result of the Walmart incident. When we retrieved the mail, there were several letters from the law firm, basically instructing me not to say anything to anybody about what happened. MTW! For the curious, I will translate the texting in a comment to this blog.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

"Our whole life is like a play." (Ben Jonson)

....Have you ever thought of going through your closet to see if you could possibly find any clothing where the label indicates that it has been made in the USA? No, I don't suppose you have. Well, you don't have to; I've done it for you. These are the countries that I saw on the labels of my shirts--golf shirts and dress shirts; short sleeves; size XL.
China, Hong Kong, Mexico, Madagascar, Philippines, Indonesia, Korea, Viet Nam, India, Bangladesh, Malaysia, and Thailand. Nothing made in the USA, and I only got through about a third of my clothing. Several shirts still left, and then the pants. I don't know if I've got the stomach to go through the pants. It's also too difficult to get at the labels. I don't suspect it would be any different in your clothing closets, so don't bother. When Barack Obama says his stimulus plan will create a million or more jobs, I'm left to wonder where these jobs are going to be. And it's been a very long time since I've heard or read anything about the unions. This doling out jobs to every country you can think of never used to be this way. I remember walking through Woolworth's Five & Ten Cent Store many moons ago and seeing cheap Japanese toys being sold. The thought of having a foreign country manufacture our clothing or cars or radios or anything else was anathema.
....I was going to say cell phones and computers--but never heard of them. Don't know how we got along without them. E-mail? Forget it. Just write a letter, stick it in an envelope and put a 3 cent stamp on it. Telephones? Who had them? Only the swells on the Grand Concourse. Back then the "5 & 10" was our mall. I guess that beats out the dollar stores. But if I understand the system correctly, the companies that have their products produced in another part of the world are raking in the money and sending it to a tax free place in Switzerland or to some other tax loop to avoid paying taxes to our Treasury. But, of course, what do I know. And that's not a question--it has the force of a statement.
.....I remember that we did have a sort of a car back in the 30s. It had two seats in the front and a rumble seat in the back. The motor housing in the front was entirely in chrome and when the sun reflected on it, it shone like a fiery comet. It was called an "Essex." In order to start the motor you had to use a crank to crank it up from the front. It usually took a rather muscular person to get it started after about five cranks. I often wondered why the back was called a "rumble seat." Of course, it was open to the elements and I suppose that's where people rumbled. However, I never witnessed a rumble, except perhaps in "West Side Story.."
.....On a more mundane level, I got a surprise from my publisher yesterday--a royalty check for $46! Who woulda thunk it? Well, my first royalty check was about $25 so I imagine sales are creeping up to the Time's top ten list. I don't know whether or not creeping is slower than crawling. And that's not a statement--it has the force of a question.
......Yesterday, too, I received a call from my Law Firm's doctor and made an appointment with him to examine my back (injured at WalMart). The other wounds that occurred are healing very slowly. Rho has been like a nurse--she is very adept at dressing wounds. Why not? We have tons of bandages, band aids, and anti-biotic creams in our medicine cabinets. Our bathrooms are like a pharmacy. I almost have to injure myself periodically so that our equipment will not go to waste.

Friday, May 15, 2009

"The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers." (2 Henry IV)

.....My last blog was a week ago, and probably the longest time between blogs since August, 2007. I have a couple of weak excuses, but they will have to do; I haven't felt too motivated since the accident at WalMart; and two, there hasn't been anything happening that I felt passionate enough about that would send me blogward. So, whatever comes out here, today, will probably be just some mundane stuff that may lack interest for readers.
.....A paralegal from the firm of Steinger & Iscoe, P.A. was here the other day asking a million questions about the accident I had at WalMart. While he was here, he took pictures of my leg--which was wrapped up like a fajita--so, I don't know what good that will do for the case. I'm really not a litigious guy, but I have already spent about $80 on doctor bills, and I mean to get that back--at least--from that store. After giving me about a dozen papers to sign, he left saying that I should expect a call from the firm's doctor to examine me. That call came this morning from a chiropractor in Delray whom, I suppose, means to do some rehab on my back which was injured in the incident in some way. So, I will be seeing him next Tuesday. Stay tuned in to this remarkable story.
.....Having very little to do at this point in the summer, I went to the Theatre Arts Class in the clubhouse which meets every Thursday afternoon for two hours to "study" acting. So, yesterday was the second time I went and it was quite fun. I met a few of the people I had performed with in previous shows, and also some that I had never met before. We did some of the same things I had done in my acting classes in college and with Val Chevron in adult ed classes down here in Boca H.S. for two years. It included some "improvs" which activity I am not too fond of, but I participated anyway. The improv given me was that a woman was to ask me the question, "Why don't you keep your promises," or something to that effect. After about three or four minutes of bantering that topic around and listening to others doing improvs, we were given items of prose which each of us was to "sight" read. I still believe that to become a decent actor for the amateur or professional stage, one must be asked to sight read a passage from one of Shakespeare's plays. Well, perhaps I'm prejudiced because I taught Shakespeare for many years and acted out many of his passages and soliloquy's for my students. Of course, when I did this, they were mesmerized and spellbound; of course, I can't prove it. But now, I do wish I'd be asked to do something from Shakespeare in this class I'm in now with fellow residents. During the season after the snowbirds have returned the class puts in a few skits in the ballroom once every Friday, I believe, at which snacks are provided to the audience which usually numbers about at least a hundred or so. I'm not sure if they come for the show or the snacks. It's the economy, you know.
.....Today is a drippy kind of day, a day which reminds me of a favorite tune of mine, "It's a Rainy Night in Georgia," a tune which I always find rather melancholy. One of my most favorite moods just happens to be melancholyism....sort of like a latter day Hamlet.It's odd, but friends always get a charge out of the fact that I very rarely laugh at the punchline of a joke that I hear. It's not that I never laugh at a joke, but only when it's told by a professional. Not too many people that I know are able to tell a joke in a way that will make me laugh--smile, perhaps. But even then I'm fearful that they will see my "partial"; it's bad enough that they can see my cane and my hearing aids.

Friday, May 8, 2009

"Babel; because the Lord did there confound the language of all the earth." (Genesis)

.....Lately I've been thinking about my collegiate studies in structural, historical, and comparative linguistics, and after a review of those studies I have arrived at a startling hypothesis--the English language is changing right under our nose! Of course, when you hypothesize you must then prove your theory by citing facts through deductive reasoning, as all of you know. At present, I cannot understand some of the English spoken by some of our children nor can I understand all of the English of all of our grandchildren. I can't even understand most of the English of the English. If there is general agreement about this among other American parents and grandparents of my generation; that is, they too find understanding the English of these young people difficult, then my conclusion about the language changing may actually be valid. (The conclusions of this type of reasoning are never true nor false; they are either valid or invalid.) So far, so good.
.....The reason that I cannot understand the aforementioned English is that it is spoken much too rapidly to follow; one word speedily elides into another, and consonants are avoided like the plague. My ears cannot process their speech so quickly. I am geared to a slight pause between words and sentences. .....Eventually--but very gradually--21st Century English will hardly be understood by English speakers in the 22nd or the 23rd Centuries A.D.!
.....Let's look at some other facts about language change and English; Old English, the language of Beowulf, which you all have read, of course, (in translation, of course), was spoken from about the middle of the 5th to the middle of the 12th Century. Then Geoffrey Chaucer came along in 15th C. and wrote "The Canterbury Tales" in what was then "Middle English"--much easier understood than Old English (except by Bill Berger). From 1500 to roughly 1650 we had "Early Modern English", the language of Shakespeare which you all read in high school and loved it. And finally, here we are speaking Modern English from the late 17th C. until now.
....Another reason that I believe the language is changing is the process of "texting"--the choppedupintopieces language that kids and many adults speak and write on their tiny machines. Thus, LOL (Laughing out loud) will become "Lots of love" or "Lots of luck" or "I love you a lot." That's not so strange since many of our words have more than one meaning. I'm not very good at texting; I wouldn't know how to use an I-pod or an E-pod or a Pea Pod if someone bought me one for Fathers' Day--which I hope no one does. Way down the line, I'm certain that much texting like LOL will become part of the spoken language; people will say "Lol" to mean "I love you" and the latter phrase will have disappeared from the English language, and those poor students of the 23rd Century will not be able to understand our books or plays. And, believe me, that's for certain.

Thursday, May 7, 2009

"When angry, count four: when very angry, swear." Mark Twain

...I was injured yesterday.I don't know if this is a suitable subject for this blog, but I don't have anything else to discuss at the moment. (Oh, yes, I just thought about it. All four published versions of my blog and eventually this one are for the benefit of my great, and great great grandchildren, if I ever get any, so that they will know something about me if they are curious enough). But now I believe you may be curious enough to know how I got hurt yesterday in Wal*Mart.
.....I was standing by a greeting card stand that had four sides which you could spin around to look for the perfect card. I found two cards for Mothers' Day and as I was about to walk away, seven or eight cartons of bottled water fell down right behind me and a couple of them hit the side and back of my left leg and produced bloody lacerations--like I had on the auto train ride. The cartons fell because they were piled too high in the aisle. Since I'm on coumadin, I bleed alot with an injury like that, so when no one appeared to help me off my knees, I pressed the two cards against the wounds. (They were $5 each, ha ha) Finally, a tall black employee picked me up and we walked together (with my cane, of course) to a bench near the rest room. The bench also happened to be right near the product return area and two women were there. I yelled to them to get the manager or someone to bandage the wounds!! One was on the outside of my left leg and another right under the bend in the knee.
.....After what seemed like a lifetime, the Ass't. Manager came and looked annoyed that blood was on the floor. Then an employee showed up with wads of toilet paper which she used to wipe up the blood with her foot. You would think a store like that would have a mop, at least. The Ass't. Manager, Rosemary asked one of the women behind the return desk for a first aid kit which she did produce. Quite a kit; it had no gauze pads large enough for my needs, no bandages, no rolls of tape! I said to Rosemary, please do something for my lacerations. Her response? "We're not allowed to do that, do you want 9ll?" "NO, NO, I WANT SOMETHING RIGHT NOW,OR I'LL GO AND BLEED ALL OVER YOUR FRUIT!" So, a customer put a small square of gauze on my leg and held it down with bandaids! I have no clue as why Rosemary didn't send someone down to the pharmacy to get the products I needed. After the wounds were covered sloppily, Rosemary gave me a clip board with a form to fill out explaining what happened. I told her I couldn't write because of the tremors in my hand. Her response? "Well, we're not allowed to do it."
.....So, I got up and left for my car. No one offered to help me get there. I know I was somewhat in shock, but I courageously caned my way to the car and drove directly to my doctor's office where he pulled the skin back over the wound and taped me up. He wants me back tomorrow. Well, that's my story. Every day a new adventure. Right above the bench I sat on was a big sign which read, "SAFETY FOR OUR CUSTOMERS IS OUR FIRST CONCERN."

Sunday, May 3, 2009

The Battle of Agincourt 1415 A.D.

.....As I was thumbing through the books in my "library" the other day, I found a rather hefty volume of Shakespeare's plays, and my thumb just happened to stop at a page in "Henry V". The play has been performed many times since it was written, but perhaps none better than the films starring Kenneth Branagh and Lawrence Olivier. One scene in the play never fails to tear me up; the scene where Henry tries to rally his troops before the Battle of Agincourt on October 25, 1415 A.D. The war, as usual, takes place in France and the speech rallying his troops is better than any coach could make to inspire his team. The battle, during which a rather ragged and small band of Englishmen routed a powerful French army, took place on the Feast of St. Crispin's Day. (St. Crispin and his twin brother, Crispian, were tortured, martyred--and as if that weren't enough-- beheaded at Soissons in 286 A.D. for preaching Christianity to the Gauls.) A curious fact is that the Battle of Balaklava during the Crimean War 1854 (Charge of the Light Brigade) and the Battle of Leyte Gulf 1944 also took place on St. Crispin's Day.


.....I have no understanding of how Shakespeare, a man who had never been in combat, could write such a stirring speech--it makes me want to get in a plane and fly up to shoot something! Patton and MacArthur could not have done as well. So, here it is:


KING: ..... he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day.
Then shall our names,
in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.

....Now, every time I read this remarkable speech, or hear it read, I somehow feel a kinship with "that few, that happy few, that band of brothers." And as Shakespeare says, "...old men forget but will remember what feats he did that day." How true--and forever.






Saturday, May 2, 2009

"I am for religion against religions." (Victor Hugo)

.....The other day I read a column on the op-ed page of our newspaper that I found to be bigoted, intolerant, and offensive. It was written by Kathleen Parker a member of the Washington Post Writers Group--whoever they are. She lauded a decision by Mary Ann Glendon, a Harvard University law professor who "quietly" declined Notre Dame's Laetare Medal, whatever that is. Parker contends that "principled people are so rare as to be oddities" which implies that Glendon and Parker are part of that rare principled group and that the rest of us are unprincipled. In actuality, Glendon's rejection of the medal was unprincipled. Her reason for rejecting it? President Obama was invited to be the commencement speaker and to receive an honorary degree. According to Parker, Obama is more radical than all previous presidents on the "life issue" because he is loosening federal funds for abortion and embryonic stem cell research, as well as his campaign promise to pass the Freedom of Choice Act.
.....Glendon's snub of Notre Dame's award to her was not only insulting to the Board who nominated her, to the University that proffered it to her, but also to the President of the United States. How "principled" is that? This was not an act based on her principles--as Parker contends, but an act based on her intolerance of those who do not adhere to the beliefs she would like all of us to believe. Parker goes on to ask ".....is there ever a time when we should be comfortable with the ratification of abortion?" And, ".....we've somehow managed to convince ourselves that life is a mistake"; and, ".....it is consoling that there are still those who relentlessly defend life's sanctity." What terrifying arrogance! To me, and to many other Americans, it is consoling that there are still those who relentlessly believe stem cell research will eventually learn how to save millions of lives around the globe by finding cures for diseases that destroy lives; that we, not of Glendon's persuasion--and many who are, find that kind of research to be a scientific attempt to sanctify life--not a religious one.
.....Ms. Parker notes the U.S. bishops' opinion that Catholic institutions "should not honor those who act in defiance of our fundamental moral principles." However, she fails to mention the fact that our former avid pro-life president, defied just that when he sent over 4000 of our young men to die in a war based on the flimsiest of reasons. How "moral" was that? How "sanctifying of life was that?And speaking of morals, Ms. Parker needs a reminder that our Constitution guarantees our fundamental freedoms, and one of them is freedom of choice. In America, at least, women have the right--and thankfully so--to decide what is in their best interests when it comes to decisions about their bodies.
.....In America, Jews don't flagellate the government to hold the sabbath on Saturday instead of Sunday; Muslims don't march in the streets protesting the fact that women are not required to wear burkas; who are also permitted to drive; that we dishonor the Koran by not praying several times a day; and so Ms. Parker ought to hesitate before writing columns lauding the morals of those who hold to her beliefs, and in no uncertain terms implying that all the rest of us non-believers are Yahoos.