"Suffer the little children to come unto me..." (The Bible)

.....Well, the birthday girl arrived on time for lunch at China Gardens even though they first drove south instead of north.  The four girlfriends she brought down with her were exceptionally sociable and we all had fun at the round table.  One gal had a lobster at my suggestion and she loved it.  My sister ordered a 2 pounder. Cantonese sauce on the side for dipping!  With garlic!  I had spare ribs and fried rice.  I'm not used to having spare ribs and fried rice for breakfast, because I usually have breakfast around that time of 11:45.  I sleep most days until 11.  Sometimes I don't have breakfast until 1pm;  if I decide to go out, Dunkin' Donuts has a great coffee roll.  Speaking of pastry, I had Publix make up a birthday cake for this event, and it was served with our dessert of ice cream.  I had them put six candles on it--one for every 10 years.  I don't think there was time to put on 60 candles.  Anyway, Robin blew out the candles with one breath.  Rhoda had to go bowling, but she finished in time to meet everyone at the airport at 3pm.  The girls flew back to Tallahassee at 3:30.  A fine time was had by all.

.....I find it hard to believe that I have a daughter who has reached the magic age of 60--because what does that makes me?  It's really a very weird feeling. Robin has three siblings who are in their 50s.  I think I liked them all better when they were little kids--let's say Robin 10, Joel 8, and Bobby and Bonny 5 years old.  You see, they used to listen to me then.  When I told them to keep quiet they did; when I told them to go to bed, they did--after a while; when I told them to finish their plate, they did cheerfully.  You never saw four kids so well behaved in a restaurant.  I think at this age they all bonded, even though JR kept punching Bobby in the arm when I wasn't watching.  

.....When they all reached high school age, I brought them to North Shore H.S. where I was an English teacher.  Bonny came a semester to my Shakespeare class where she sat in back of the room with her boyfriend.  Every day she had a new boyfriend who plied her with weed.  Robin was in my Speech and Public Speaking class.  I gave her a 98.  Joel and Bobby were never in my class, but I did coach Joel on the soccer and track team.  Bobby was never on one of my teams, but he did have one distinction--he kicked the first field goal ever for the football team; I believe it was about 35 yds.  They all graduated--Robin to Oneonta State, Joel to Cornell, Bonny to the New York School of Dog Grooming, and Bobby to the college of hard knocks.  To conclude, it was absolutely wonderful to see my daughter Robin on her 60th birthday even though it was only for about four hours.  It was way better than not seeing her at all.

"Women and Elephants never forget." (Dorothy Parker)

.....I'm sorry about politicizing yesterday's blog post.  I really made a pact with myself not to get involved in politics, because I know I'll always have good friends who will not agree with what I have to say--and I don't want them to drop me like a hot potato.  And I'm also sorry to have used such a worn out cliche; but I can't think of anything else with which they can drop me.  And speaking of dropping, I am guilty of dropping several things during the day.  Every day.  I don't know what to do about it.  Today, while sharing lunch with Rhoda at the Bagel Tree, I first dropped the bill, and then I dropped my ID card from my wallet and she had to pick them up.  I really do expect to drop a few more things during the rest of the day; and perhaps with no one around to pick up after me; I certainly cannot bend down to do it--not with my back.  But dropping things is not my only bete noir; I also rip the skin off some part of my body at least once a week; my skin is paper thin.  If Rho is around when it happens, she just dips into her purse and pulls out whatever size band-aid is required.  Amazing, eh?  But that's what she does.  I attribute the condition of my skin to having been exposed to the sun for most of my life, and failing to use the proper sun-screen--or any sun-screen.  Live and learn.

.....As long as I'm confessing stuff, I might as well divulge a few other faults, some of which I can control, and others which I cannot.  For example, I find it very frustrating not to be able to place the mouse pointer right on the monitor where I need it without a few tries because I have tremors in my right hand; this, I suppose, is a product of ageing--I admit it.  I have aged like everyone else, but I've had more practice at it than most.  And, consequently, I've become very good at tremorrizeing a lot better than most.  Then there is the cane; I've had to use one to get around the house without falling down and breaking another hip, and I doubt whether or not I can find a hip donor.  But the real problem is not the cane, rather it's my memory.  I can never remember if I left it in the den, or the kitchen, or the living room or bedroom or bathroom.  And if you've been listening, guess who has to find it.  It's embarrassing.  Of course, I do have one or two other faults, but I do not feel like continuing this self flagellation. 

.....So, let's review for posterity's sake: I'm a liberal, a Democrat, a dropeasy, a bleeder, a trembler, and a partial case of dementia.  I have some good qualities also, but I've forgotten what they are.

"Tomorrow to fresh fields and pastures new"

.....There's not much time left until President Obama delivers his State of the Union address.  At that time Congress will be under the control of a Republican majority.  Until then, there have been a few bills that have been placed before Congress for approval--or disapproval.  Yesterday, Senate Republicans stalled the dreams of young immigrants all across the nation.  It was a bill that would have allowed those who arrived here illegally before age 16 to become legal residents, students, and soldiers.  Passage fell five votes short, and denied millions of youngsters who were brought here illegally by their parents, through no fault of their own, the opportunity to become citizens.  They have no other country.  They are Americans.  They speak English, they graduate from high school and college.  The failure of Congress to pass this "Dream" act is a violation of humanity.

.....The excuses given by those Republicans for denying that bill are ludicrous; Sen. LeMieux of Florida expressed sympathy, but he and other members of the GOP said they could not grant "amnesty" to those who came here illegally.  These young people did not "come here illegally"--they were brought here.  And who is to blame for allowing millions of illegals to cross our borders in order to live a better life?  China built a wall 5500 miles long, Israel built a separation barrier 402 miles long, East Germany built a wall 96 miles long...at least something was done about keeping out the unwanted besides just talking about it.  But the opposition by Republicans has nothing to do with their lame excuses; the real reason is that if these million or so immigrants were given the right to vote, they would vote for Democrats.  The great majority are Latinos.  And I truly believe that is the reason behind the Republican "no" vote.

..... Now take our newly elected billionaire governor of Florida, Rick Scott.  He is determined to roll back "Obamacare."  And why? He has his business interests in mind rather than the well-being of the state's 3.8 million uninsured.  U.S Rep. Debbie Wasserman Schultz claims that "Scott is interested in making sure that health care corporations make as much money as they can."  Scott has founded a chain of urgent-care walk-in clinics and he is heavily invested in Pharmaca, a company that runs drugstores and pharmacies.  Why people have voted this man into office, I will never understand.  Whose interests will he have in mind?  Certainly not yours and mine.  Oh, well, I will also never understand how Time Magazine could name that Facebook guy, Person of the Year.  I have never even been voted Person of the Week--and look how many weeks I have lived in--about 4,472 of them.  That's a whole bunch of weeks for having been ignored.

MY 10 BEST VEGETABLES

.....I said I would write a list of my "10 Best Vegetables" and so I will--not necessarily in order of taste or frequency--: 1) collards 2) kohlrabi 3) okra 4) artichokes 5) Brussels sprouts 6) cauliflower 7) chard 8) leek 9) parsnips and finally, 10) rhubarb.  There, now I've gotten that over with. Yummy yum.  And now just a couple of comments about the comments I have received anent (yes, anent. Is that ok?) my listing of the 10 best movies I  remember having seen and enjoyed.  Mr. PB couldn't believe that I saw Clark Gable as the star in "Casablanca" and neither can I.  Obviously, this makes me believe that he will not believe my 10 best vegetable list.  Give me a break; I'm 86 and 2/3. I can't remember everything, and I believe I do fondly remember those vegetables...uh...mmmhmm?  Well, to be honest, not all 10; maybe 5.  But given the 5 I remember, the other 5 fall right into place.  

.....To digest a little from the subject, yesterday my monitor died.  I panicked.  I could not count all my money, and I could not get to my blog fast enough to put in Humphrey Blowhard instead of Clark Grable as the star of "Casabianca".  I do not cotton to errors in this, my definitive journal of my retirement years that I am writing for the benefit of my grandchildren if they recall that I am the Paternoster here in Condoland.  Well, perhaps not my grandchildren--perhaps my great grandchildren.  Now, there's a thought.  They'll probably run right down to Publix to try out their Great Grandfather's Vegetables.  And for their benefit because they are part of the family, I may list my 10 best fruit(s) shortly so that they can reap the benefits of the Baron's culinary wisdom.

.....Well, I have once more digested from the subject: anyway, to make a long story short, I called in a monitor doctor who gave my 17" monitor a proper burial in the dumpster and who replaced it with a 19" model, and all for $35.  I was going to offer him a copy of my memoirs, but I decided against it.  He probably reads only computer magazines.  Now for my nap.

"TEN BEST MOVIES I'V SEEN"--PT. II

.....It seems that I still have a few readers left, three of whom have already commented on my list of ten best movies I remember having seen since 1924.  Well, it is time to lift the aweful suspense about the last five; I only mentioned the first five in the posting of Dec. 14, 2010. BTW, that day was the 43rd birthday of one of my most intellectual and youngest commenters, Jon Tessler; also--besides myself-- a veteran of the U.S. Navy and still living in Norfolk, VA.  For those who are curious, Jon is RH+'s son; therefore my stepson.  When I first met him in 1978 (the year of his Bar Mitzvah) I could not actually see him because his room was completely decorated with his clothing and he was under the covers, and his monstrous dog, Max, who at first glance I thought to be King Kong, was the room's security guard. 

.....Well, then let's get into the last five films on my list, the first being the film THE RED SHOES which I first saw in 1948.  It is a British film about a young ballerina who joins an established ballet company and who eventually becomes it's lead dancer in a ballet called "The Red Shoes".  The story is loosely based on the fairy tale of the same name written by Hans Christian Andersen.  It was the first time I had ever seen a ballet, and its form, and poetry, and beauty captivated me.  Although, the story line has become hazy over the years, I will never forget the emotion and catharsis I experienced.  Go see it when it comes around.

CHARIOTS of FIRE is a 1981 British film. It tells the fact-based story of two athletes in the 1924 Olympics: Eric Lidell, a devout Scottish Christian who runs for the glory of God, and Harold Abrahams, an English Jew, who runs to overcome prejudice. The film's title was inspired by the line, "Bring me my chariots of fire," from a poem by William Blake, although the original phrase, "chariot(s) of fire" comes from the Bible.  Having been a track and field coach since 1952, I was naturally drawn to this film which won the Academy Award in 1981.

.....Skipping blithely ahead eight years to 1989, I saw one of the best--if not THE best--Shakespearean film I had ever seen, even better than Olivier's "Hamlet".  It starred a marvelous actor, Kenneth Branagh in HENRY V.  This was the definitive "Henry V" film ever made--in my opinion, of course.  I was raised on William Shakespeare.  I was always enthralled by Shakespeare and the language I experienced in his plays.  I taught Shakespeare in high school, college, and post-college (that referring to classes of senior citizens during my retirement).  Hank 5 was a born leader, and this film documents that.

.....Five years later, in 1994, I saw FORREST GUMP starring Tom Hanks. The story depicts several decades in the life of Forrest Gump, a simple Alabama man who travels across the world, sometimes meeting historical figures, influencing popular culture, and experiencing firsthand historic events of the late 20th century.  This film won the Academy Award that year, and rightfully so.  I'd love to see it once more.

.....And now, I finally arrive at the tenth film on my list of the ten best I've seen--that is, of those I can recall.  And that film is SHAKESPEARE in LOVE which appeared in 1998, a mite before the 21st Century--(where I'll have to start a new 10 best for this century, I suppose.)   The film purports to portray Shakespeare in a love affair at the time he was writing "Romeo and Juliet".  (Whatever happened to Anne Hathaway?  Was Will a regular Tiger?).  The film won seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Actress (for Gryneth Paltrow), and Best Supporting Actress (for Judi Dench).  It was the first comedy film to win the Best Picture award since "Annie Hall" in 1977.

.....So, there you have it, my friends. Oh, I know I left a few winners off my list such as, "On the Waterfront," "Citizen Kane," "Mutiny on the Bounty," "The Wizard of Oz," "Marty," and "My Fair Lady." among others.   Perhaps next I'll write about the ten best vegetables I've ever eaten.

MY 10 BEST MOVIES LIST

.....Oh, yes, I know...it's been a few days since I last wrote something, but I've been very busy rehearsing for the next show here in Huntington Lakes.  It's coming in March, but auditions have been held and rehearsals have begun; it takes a few months to whip 60s, 70s, and 80s into some kind of shape so that they will be entertaining; not that I'm doing the whipping.  I will, however, be performing and hopefully, entertaining.  No leading roles for me any longer; it's hard to prance around the stage with a cane. I will most likely be singing "Rich Man" from "Fiddler" and reciting "Well, ya Got Trouble" from "Music Man".  I did these two numbers about fifteen years ago, but I still remember them--so rehearsing will be a slam dunk.  Anyway, this blog will be taking a lighter tone today; I have already revealed the best ten sights that I have seen in my journeys, and so now I will stay closer to home and state the ten best films I've seen in my 86 years of seeing films.  

.....I won't put these in any particular order; they are just the 10 best films that I can remember seeing, and I must have seen 100 if I've seen any.  First from 1937 starring Ronald Colman is THE LOST HORIZON. It's about this paleontologist who finds a magical city in the Himalayas called "Shangra-La".  At 13 years of age at the time I was in dire need of a magical city and I found it in this film.  Shangra-La does exist, and like the Holy Grail, must be found.

.....Also, in 1937 I saw a film that I can never forget--SNOW WHITE and THE SEVEN DWARFS starring Snow White and Dopey.  How can anyone who ever saw that Disney film ever forget it?  People are still trying to answer the trivia question, "Name the seven dwarfs".  Let's see, now; there was Dopey, Doc, Grumpy, Happy, Sleepy, Bashful, and ............ ??? Oh, well, try Santa's reindeer.

.....In 1939, I took my mother on her birthday to Radio City Music Hall in the city to see GONE WITH THE WIND in living color.  It starred Clark Gable and Vivian Leigh and was an Academy Award winner that year, and was an epic film about the Civil War.  Don't miss it when it comes to your theater.

.....Fast forward now to 1943.  I was given some time off from the killing fields after our plane crash, went to London and saw CASABLANCA with Clark Gable and my favorite actress, Ingrid Bergman; a great love story and a great song which I can never stop singing in the shower or in the elevator where the acoustics are agreeable--although they may accent all the imperfections in my voice.

.....Not that I did not see any great movies between 1943 and 1972, but in 1972 I saw one of the ten best ever...in my view--THE GODFATHER with Marlon Brando.  I really should say, "The Godfather Series" because there were three Godfather films, and each of them was riveting.

....Well, now, I can't go on till the next time when I will reveal the next five films on my best-ever-seen list.  So, between now and then, stay in heightened suspense...and wait. There will be some surprises--no doubt about that.

"You taught me language; and my profit on't is I know how to curse"(The Tempest)

.....Since comments on these blog posts are really not designed for lengthy dissertations , I'm taking this opportunity to respond to recent comments.  First of all, Phil, my dearest and most welcome commenter, my mentor and honorary uncle, questions whether or not his comment on my recent blog about the dual language in our country was fomented by what he called "knee-jerk liberals" and which I called "vitriolic bashing".  Why was this vitriolic he asks. It is so to me because this phrase  indicates contempt, and since I have made no secret about my liberal persuasion, I consider that I've been liberally bashed, and I'm not happy about it.  This blog was not meant to be political, and this phrase made it so.  I don't even know what "knee-jerk" means, but I know it is not complimentary.  Secondly, in all of the seven books of posts I've written, I have never used a  caustic adjective in describing a conservative, of which persuasion I am not a member.  Thirdly, let's not place the entire blame on liberals for the situation I described.  I don't believe that the many companies I've called on the phone who require pressing numbers for the language one speaks are run by liberals.  The Republican legislators in Florida are responsible for printing our ballots in Spanish as well as English.  Liberals may have created the GI Bill, Medicare, Social Security, the Peace Corps, the 40 hr. work week, unemployment compensation, and the Civil Rights Act, but they should not be held responsible for the creation of the Universe.

.....And then there is Emrys who has added another dimension, and a welcome one, to the commentary.  In response to "Phil's" comment, Emrys indicated that he was a "knee-jerk liberal" himself, and that he was going to his doctor to correct the jerk in his knee.  Having done so, Emrys has now been rendered harmless, and so this should assuage Phil B. and correct the shape that he has been bent out of by some knee jerking.  And, I need an explanation of who and what and why someone is being referred to as "Mrs.".  Sounds like sarcasm to me; I wasn't born yesterday--more like yesteryear. 


.....And then there is my loving cuz, Ruth Grimsley, the virginal English woman as she refers to herself in her email address.  She is always there--that is she "has my back".  Baron is so fortunate to have a poet and a brilliant mind ready to comment on what Baron has to say.  And she knows much more about America and its politics than any of the other commenters know about England, and she recognizes how fortunate we are to have a president such as we have, and too bad that more people do not understand and appreciate that.  And Ruthie, my dear, I will expect a birthday poem on my birthday in February.  And PhilB, the next time some liberal or (P)resident upsets you, take two aspirins and go to bed.

Press 18 (Chai) for Yiddish

.....During the recent election, I went to our clubhouse where voting machines were set up for anyone who wished to vote--and in our community there were many who did so, and I was one of them.  When I got there and identified myself as a patriotic citizen who believes strongly in democracy, I was given a ballot and directed to a small booth where privacy prevailed,  When I opened the ballot, I was amazed to find that the instructions were in Spanish as well as in English.  Even on the ballot, itself, Spanish accompanied the nominee's names, so that any latino in our community who neglected to learn English could vote.  I looked around our very large ballroom and could find no one of that particular ethnic persuasion.  In fact, in all the 28 years that I've been living here, I never did meet or notice any Spanish speaking resident.  When I looked over the ballot, I couldn't help calling on my education to help me understand how  and where to make my mark.  I also could not help repeating to myself that we are an English speaking not a Spanish speaking nation. Everywhere I go, and everywhere I look, and everywhere I listen, I see and hear Spanish accompanying anything English.  Of course, anyone who tries to call a company on the phone is directed to "press one" for English, and sometimes I don't pay attention and I mistakenly press 2, and then I hear someone hablaing Espanol.

.....Perhaps I am wrong (not likely), but I don't believe a phone call in France, England, or Germany will direct the caller to press 2 for Shiite Islamic or 3 for Sunni Islamic.  There are 5 million Muslims in France, 3 million in Germany, and about 3 million in Britain--and Islamic immigration to these countries continues.  In France, alone, there are 1500 mosques.  According to a 2001 survey there were 1209 mosques in the United States.  

.....American visitors to Paris or other major French cities often are amazed when they see how the multiethnic way of life there resembles that in the United States.  But multiethnicity in France goes beyond that in the United States, for it includes a religious dimension in addition to racial and ethnic differences. If the most important minorities in the United States (the black and Hispanic) are overwhelmingly Christian, French minority groups are largely Muslim. American minority groups share many basic values with the rest of the country; in contrast, French minority groups tend to have alien values, to think of themselves as a new nation, and even to have hopes of superseding the present Judeo-Christian nation of France.  And don't think France isn't concerned about that possibility coming to fruition in the future.  As for us, I don't expect an invasion of Spanish forces led by Francisco Franco anytime soon.

.....Our country has had a history of ethnic immigrations--and I believe that if an immigrant wished to advance in American society he had to get an education, learn to speak English--and that is just what our parents and grandparents and great grandparents had to do.  And that is what they did.  

"Oh Brave New World that has such people in it!" (The Tempest)

.....This post might evolve into a discussion of a pot pourri of events in the last couple of days.  For instance, I tried to access my email yesterday and today in my usual way when I suddenly get an error message "Invalid URL".  I went to the Comcast "Chat" program and chatted with some i...ot who sent me all over my computer until I lost him and found myself back on my desktop with nowhere to go.  So, this morning I called Comcast and spoke to an i...becil who told me to go to "Internet Options" and delete my temp. internet and cookie files which I had already done a couple of times and which did not aid me in reaching my email.  I changed browsers from Chrome to Explorer and got the same error message.  So, I've given up.  I was able to get my email from Rho's laptop, and I imagine I may have to do that for awhile unless I get a techie here or switch to gmail or yahoo or hotmail.  What a pain!  I'm getting older by the minute, and I can't handle these d..mn glitches anymore!  I think it may be political and I'm being somehow punished for being a Democrat.  If there is a promise to me that there will be no more of these mysterious problems popping up out of nowhere for the rest of my life, I may give serious thought to switching allegiances.

.....Next: Yesterday, was the first "Showcase" of the new "season" here.  It's a show put on by the Theatre Arts class each month in the clubhouse ballroom.  The show consists of short skits, improvs, and monologues--dramatic and humorous--by class participants who have been studying their roles for a month.  My role in the class was as the "crtiquer" (sp?); a role I did not ask for, but to which I was appointed.  I also was asked to perform in the Showcase, and I recited the Seven Ages of Man monologue spoken by Jacques in Shakespeare's "As You Like It."  More people attended this Showcase than I expected--at least 100.  But after the beverages and cake and cookies during the intermission, about half the audience disappeared.  I imagine they all went to the restrooms and couldn't find their way back.   During intermission some lady I had never seen here before came up to me and asked if I were Norman Ross to which question I had no choice but to answer that I was indeed, he.  She said her name was Harriet Spiritous which rang a bell--she was my daughter Robin's baby sitter when we lived in the Bronx.  Harriet was 13 then, so I did not recognize her at age 73.  I thought this indeed was amazing.  She lived in the apartment right across the hall from us and we did socialize with her parents.  I was not about to ask her what happened to them.


.....Last night we had tickets to a show at "The New York Comedy Club."  Our neighbors joined us and I asked Gary, who drove, if he had directions to this place, and he proceeded to drive down 441 to Glades Rd. in Boca Raton and then went west.  He said to look for a Dunkin' Donuts and a Burger King.  Well, we went westeder and westeder until we got to the end...only darkness and residentials.  I told Gary that I was familiar with a place called the Comedy Club on Glades Rd. near the Florida Turnpike which was east of 441, not west.  So, sure enough we got to the right place after a Florida nightly tour.  It was 8:25 and the show was to start at 8:30 which it did not until 9:15 when a series of "comedians" came on stage--each with about a ten minute gig, and each with language more coarse and vulgar than another.  I couldn't understand why there was so much laughter, until I looked at the crowded house and didn't notice anyone else with a cane, besides me.  I couldn't understand a word except if they contained four letters or  referred to reproductive organs, but the members of the audience without bulging midsections appeared enthralled by it all.  And all the performers spoke so fast, I didn't realize that they were speaking English.  The language is really being changed by this young generation.  Speed of expression is the new mode, so that it resembles Chinese, where all our clothing is made; or Spanish which requires the numerals 1 and 2 to appear everywhere.  If this trend continues, the time will eventually arrive when no one will understand me.

"There's no business like show business like no business I know".

.....I just published a comment from "Emrys" which my readers may discover in the comments following the discussion about Mark Twain a couple of days ago. Emrys has been an admirer of my cuz Ruth from England, a veritable Encyclopedia Britannia, whose grey matter should be known as "Grimsley's Reference Work." And I'm fortunate to call her a family member. At any rate, Emrys touches base with Ms. Grimsley by "introducing" himself.  My "cuz" commented on the origin of Samuel Clemens' pen name, Mark Twain.  However, Emrys disagreed with Ruth's explanation and gave one of his own.  Reading them both over, however, it appeared to me that they were both saying the same thing in a different form of English; Ruth in "British" and Emry's in "American".  But the following is scientifically verifiable in "Twain" English: Mark maintained that his primary pen name came from his years working on Mississippi riverboats, where two fathoms, a depth indicating safe water for passage of boat, was measured on the sounding line. A fathom is a maritime unit of depth, equivalent to two yards (1.8 m); twain is an archaic term for "two". The riverboatman's cry was "mark twain" or, more fully, "...by the mark--twain," meaning "according to the mark [on the line], [the depth is] two [fathoms]; that is, the water is 12 feet deep and it is safe to pass.  However, Baron disagrees with all three of them--Grimsley, Emry, and Mark.  And thus in "Baron" English, the truth is that the name "mark twain" refers to a running bar tab that Twain would regularly incur while drinking at John Piper's saloon in Virginia City, Nevada. So, let's cut to the chase here, gang, and cut the academic pedagogics, and get down to basics.

......This morning I attended the auditions for the "in house" show scheduled for March. It's a show written by one of the residents--as is usual if we are not doing a "book" show (a wayoffbroadway revival).  The show is called "The Devil Made me do It" --a sort of senior "America loves talent" show.  It  has been a few years since I performed in "My Fair Lady" and I have not been able to slough off my thespian urges entirely.  So, I decided I would audition two songs--"As Time Goes By" and "If I Were a Rich Man".  I did "Rich Man" when I played Tevye about ten years ago; perhaps a little less.  I am not looking for a speaking part or anything else that would require my appearing for rehearsals several days a week at 9a.m. as I had in the past.  The gal who was evaluating the talent told me that I was the only one who received a "10"!  I guess I'm in.  And I'm sure that the "producer" wants me to do "Trouble", Harold Hill's litany against a pool table in River City.  I learned that million word monologue for "Music Man" --also many years ago, but I still remember all of it.   

.....I'm not sure that's a good thing???

"What a sigh is there. The heart is sorely charged." (Macbeth)

.....Yesterday, I had two appointments at the VA Hospital in West Palm Beach. Firstly, I decided to put my scooter on the lift attached to my car and use it there because my cane would simply not do for the kind of walking distances that  would be required . Secondly, I also determined to leave early enough so that I might be fortunate to get a parking space, always in very short supply at that facility.  Additionally, I needed to leave early so as not to miss my first appointment; sometimes an accident on the Florida Tpk. slows traffic to a crawl.  I did get there in plenty of time for my 11 a.m. appointment for an ultra sound procedure on my kidneys which my urologist wanted to see.  I did finally get a space to park my car--but it was in a space that was not really a space--if you get my meaning.  I lowered the lift and drove off in the scooter, which to tell the truth, was really a helpful aid--and also a little fun.  When my appointment time came I went to the place where I thought the ultra sound would be given, but the nurse sent me to a different location.  Thus, I scooted over there and when I checked in, the nurse asked if I had drunk 32 ounces of water!  No! I told her; no one told me I had to drink 32 ounces of water!  She also added (almost joyfully) that I had to feel the need to pee "uncomfortable."  I remarked that it would not be possible to drive for 40 minutes in that condition.  At any rate, I made another appointment and I will find a way to drink 32 ounces of water.  If it was my son, Bobby, 32 ounces of beer would just be a start for him.    

.....It was now about 11:15 and my next appointment was in a different building the whole of which was for PTSD patients.  Since I wasn't scheduled there until 1p.m., I had plenty of time to have some breakfast.  In the main lobby a Starbuck's "cafe" always had a delicious apple turnover, so I went there, bought it and then scooted over to the main cafeteria where I purchased a cup of coffee.  (I will continue with this monologue because, after all, this is my "journal" and I would be remiss if I did not recount the events of this day.) When I finished the uneventful appointment at the PTSD clinic, I drove over to the Emergency Room.  For two or three days I had a painful pain in my chest and I promised RH+ that I would have it taken care of.  Of course, the first thing done there was to have me take off my shirt and shoes and get into a bed surrounded by a curtain.  And to make this account as painless as possible, they gave me an EKG, a blood test, and an X-Ray and found nothing that could be heart related.  However, the doctor there told me he would like to have me admitted so that he could conduct a stress test in the morning.  I told him that there was no way that I could stay in that hospital overnight so far away from Delray.  Therefore he had me sign a release; which I did.  I dressed, got out of there, got in my car and drove home.  

.....I still have that pain in my chest, but the consensus is that it is a possible muscle pull contracted while lifting heavy luggage into the car on the way to the airport when we went to NY.  Consequently, I may never go to New York again.

"Welcome the coming, speed the parting guest." (Homer)

.....So, there went my 86th Thanksgiving in a row for a new record.  Rho and I joined our neighbors, Lou and Annette for Thanksgiving dinner at a local Greek diner--one we usually don't frequent, and much to our surprise our traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings was excellent.  The turkey was right off the frame, the stuffing was delicious, the baked potato was large and just the right texture, the cole slaw was tasty and the diet coke was thirst quenching.  And now I have to get into practice for number 87 in one year's time.  

.....Yesterday, about 7:oo a.m. the phone rang as we were sleeping in our queen sized bed and it wakened and alarmed both of us.  (I mention "queen" size bed because my ex and I had to share a "double" bed for much of our marriage.) Well, to continue the story, at the other end of the phone line was Jackie Schillig on her cell and about to board a plane for Ft. Lauderdale from D.C.  One day in 1973, Jackie came into my English classroom and announced that she had been assigned to me as a student teacher.  Ordinarily I wouldn't want to be bothered, but Jackie was gorgeous, and stirred my benevolent genes.  Now, that was 37 years ago, and we have remained close friends since then even though time and distance have kept us apart.  Jackie was an excellent student teacher and she went on to a great teaching career on her own.  Jackie became very close also with all of my family, and especially so with Bobby and Robin.  

.....Jackie was in town to attend her friend's wedding and she asked if she could come up to see us for a few hours.  It was about 11:30 a.m. when she called from Publix, our supermarket, and asked if there was anything she could bring us that we may have needed--like a loaf of bread, a bottle of milk, or a carton of water bottles.  We assured Jackie that we were not living in poverty, and to get her ass up to our apartment so that we could all go out to get something to eat.  Which event shortly happened.  When we returned from the local bagel & lox emporium, we spent a couple of hours chatting and reminiscing.  I gave her a copy of my autobiography and a copy of "Paternoster in Condoland Vol.I", my blog--or as I like to consider it, the journal of my life here since 2007 when I first started to write it.

.....Jackie's visit was wholeheartedly welcomed, and to continue with no shortage of visiting guests, we will be joining my cousin, Gary, from Chicago at Maggiano's this evening along with his daughter, Michelle, and her husband, Yoniv.  I certain that even they don't read my blog, along with Jackie, and I am sure they couldn't care less about this shameless omission in their mundane existences.

"And we shall never meet the Twain" (NRR)

…..Yesterday, Time Magazine had an article about Mark Twain’s new unexpurgated memoir, “Autobiography of Mark Twain,”  at the No.2 spot on the New York Time’s best seller list.  I did not know that he had written his memoirs and I was honored to think that we both had written one—although his memoirs are published in three volumes with just the first one 744 pages compared to my 375.  It’s hard to believe that he did three times as many things to write about as I did.  He also hired a stenographer to get his words down on paper, while I had the advantage of my computer, which I did not have to dictate to.  (And hopefully I will be forgiven for ending a sentence with a preposition. Winston Churchill, when told not to end a sentence with a preposition, replied, “This is the kind of arrant nonsense up with which I will not put!”)  At his death on April 21, 1910 he stipulated that his memoir was not to be published fully for 100 years while I published mine as quickly as I was able to after it was finished. According to the article, Twain was concerned that he had “unchained” himself and that the book would be too full of acidic opinions against the “follies and wickedness of his times.”  These included his rantings against the institution of slavery, the gluttony of the age, and the Spanish-American War. He described the American soldiers in the Philippines as uniformed assassins. He also fulminated against the criminal malfeasance of the business world.  Because of these views, it is needless to say his popularity in the polls would not be something to be proud of.

…..According to Mark Twain, because of the many indelicate views he voiced, he opted to “speak from the grave” .Right from a page of his manuscript (in TIME) I was able to decipher his writing and he had this to say: “I speak from the grave rather than with my living tongue, for a good reason; I can speak freely.  When a man is writing a book which is to be read while he is still alive—he shrinks from speaking his whole, frank mind; all his attempts to do it fail; he recognizes that he trying to do a thing which is wholly impossible to a human being.  The frankest and privatest product of the human mind & heart is a love letter…”  Ah, ain't that the truth!

….And  I found Twain's views to be true while I was writing my memoirs.  Indeed, I neglected to write all my frank views about people, the times I was living in, and life in general.  I also did not think about the idea of having my book published 100 years after my death so I, too, would be “speaking from the grave”.  The probability is that the book would never be published and that my manuscript would gather dust in someone’s attic.  Who knows whose?  I also did not write my memoir as Twain suggested a memoir ought to be written; and that is, the writer should not be concerned about time lines, but that he should promote his ideas and his memories in any order that they occur to him.  Hmmmmm.  That would have been a help to me; there are many memories I have had since I published my memoirs that I didn’t recall while writing it.  Also, Mark Twain used that as his pen name; he was born Samuel Clemens.  I forgot to use my pen name, the Baron.  It’s too late now.  Besides, I couldn’t come close to 744 pages and then two volumes after that.  I really shouldn’t complain—I just got a check of $33.99 for royalties!  Twain is not going to collect anything, being that he is in the grave.  At least I am financially better off than he.

Cuando en Nueva York, presione uno para el español y dos para el inglés.

.....We are finally back in Florida after a week in New York which wasn't the best of times according to my recollection.  We are not used to the cold weather; most of the time it was in the high 40's or low 50's.  I once played golf in the 50's, and I thought it was balmy and the coming of springtime, but this time it seemed as though we were somewhere in the North Pole--with no escape nor penquins.  Except for the times that we stopped at the Celebrity Diner, I was being starved.  Saturday night at the reception for the Bat Mitzvah girl, Ally, the food was doled out buffet style.  Except for the potato pancakes, the food was hallucious--at least according to my palate, although most of the guests formed long lines to get at it.  But finally the time came for us to get home.  And that's another story.

.....We had a 3pm flight on Jet Blue, but it was about 12:30 when we returned the car, a Nissan Sentra.  Don't buy it.  Going through security verged on semi-insanity.  Because I have a pacemaker, I had to be patted down.  Well,  the patterer  searched every part of my body stealing at least 15 minutes from my reading time.  I didn't  know the problem; if everyone had to be patted for this length of time the lines would have reached out to the tarmac. I even saw them patting down an old lady in a wheelchair.  Besides, I was wearing a U.S Navy cap with a couple of important medal replica pins, and a pair of wings attached to it. And, I don't suppose I could have been mistaken for a member of the Muslim navy.  And, besides, I did not carry a hoofah pipe.  Hey, use some judgment, guys.  We finally made it home, but not before stopping by Nathan's in Boynton Beach for some good American hot dogs.  


.....One thing I did learn on this trip is that I cannot trip any longer.  It is too taxing; not only for me, but for RH+ as well, what with the packing and unpacking and the lugging of luggage and getting transportation to pick up a rental car and driving through unbelievable traffic for those hours on a Monday, and then returning the car and getting transported back to JFK and waiting two hours before boarding, and add to this, sleeping in a strange bed, and all the other taxing events of the week--and traveling for us is now forbidden.  And another problem is that I can no longer walk very far, or safely with simply a cane--which means, perhaps, that I may have to swallow deeply and opt for a walker (heaven forbid).  But then there's Omar who wrote, "The moving finger writes, and then moves on; nor all your piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all your tears wash out a word of it."   (There's a lesson to be learned there.)


.....However, there is still tomorrow, and I'm thinking I'll have something to say about Mark Twain's memoirs compared to mine.  It's spectacular. Stay tuned.

The Big Affair in New York in the Cold!

.....Just received an email from cuz Ruth all the way from England lamenting that there is "a gap" in her life.  It poured guilt into my day because the gap occurred because she hadn't seen any posting on this blog for awhile and she was concerned that something was wrong across the Atlantic.  But that is not the case.  The fact is that I am writing this on the hotel's guest computer in New York.  We came here last Tuesday to attend a Bat Mitzvah of Rho's granddaughter, Allyson.  On Thursday I was forced to don a tuxedo in order to take family pictures at the temple.  I could not button the top button on my shirt, so I had to make my tie ride up as far as possible.  We were there a couple of hours taking pictures.  I hope I didn't spoil any of them, because I have never been taught how to smile.  Once in a while I laugh at a joke but that is a rare event. 

.....To back up one day, on Wednesday we went to the Roosevelt Field mall.  That location is the noted as the one where Lindbergh took off for his flight across the Atlantic, and there is a plaque there to commemorate that event.  I was not really able to wander around the mall with my cane, so Rho had to locate someone who was able to get a wheelchair for me, and after a while she succeeded as she usually does when she tries something.  The primary reason for going there was to have something to do, and so we did do something--we had lunch at the food court.  I had a hot dog which wasn't so hot, and she had something Asian.  Then she decided she had to have her nails done, and so we shortly found a salon where I waited while she was nailing it.  Since she had something she wanted, I decided it was my turn, so we stopped at a kiosk and bought a bag of dark chocolate non-paraiels (Since I don't know how to spell it, I just stuck a bunch of vowels in it--I'll check it later. There is no dictionary in New York).

.....I really don't remember what we did on Friday except having a very late lunch and I waited at the beauty parlor for RH+ to have her hair done.  But I do remember what we did yesterday; in the morning we went to services at the temple to hear Allyson do her Bat MItzvah thing.  She didn't do a bad job reading her "haftorah"--a section of the Bible.

In the evening we attended the reception and, truthfully, I never ever heard music so loud as it went all night long--with the same beat--it never stopped and all the kids were on the dance floor jumping up and down thinking, I believe, that they believed they were dancing.  In order to escape the mind bending decibels, I removed myself the quite of the lobby until Rhoda came and dragged me back inside to perform the candle lighting ceremony.  The food was pretty good, except that it wasn't a "sit down" meal; it was a buffet and the lines at each station were quite long before you could grab a plate.  It was about 12:30a.m. when we got back to our room at the hotel.  I flopped onto the bed and watched a football game--and eventually I went to sleep.  This evening we are heading to Renee's to finish off the buffet leftovers.  Tomorrow we are going home, and hopefully this blog is free of errors and boredom.  But at least it will close the gap that Ruth was complaining about.

Comment on the Comments

.....Regarding PB's comment on the previous blog posting:  Phil is certainly right about Russ Feingold former Dem. Senator from Wisconsin. He was defeated by Ron Johnson, a Republican Tea Partier.  And one wonders about the brain levels of the people of Wisconsin who voted for this guy.  It's mind boggling.  Just see if you would vote for this man...well maybe some of you would...until perhaps you knew a little about Sen. Feingold.  What is happening here is a recurrence of the Cromwellian Interregnum in England when the monarchy was abolished and Oliver Cromwell & Puritans ruled the country after Charles I was executed by them.  Of course, the Tea Party Puritans would not execute Obama.  Or would they? And how about this Puritan:

Ron Johnson has called scientists who attribute global warming to man-made causes "crazy" and has said the theory is "lunacy". He has said the source of the climate change is "sunspot activity or just something in the geologic eons of time". (So just exactly who is crazy?)

Johnson believes marriage should be between one man and one woman and he supports the present military policy of "don't ask, don't tell". (Nice and conservative. Status quo...Don''t touch.

He opposes research funding for embryonic stem cells. Johnson has stated he disagrees with it morally and also eliminating funding would help balance the federal budget. (So what if we don't find cures for deadly diseases? We're moral)

Johnson appeared in Madison, Wisconsin at the Tea Party rally for Tax Day, April 15, 2010.He attracted the attention of the Tea Party movement when he gave two emotional speeches at Tea Party rallies. According to The New York Times, he said he "did kind of spring out of the Tea Party" and is glad to be associated with it.

Johnson has been called "a political blank slate", because not only does he have no legislative voting record, he has also never previously run for political office.

As of November 1, 2010, he had contributed $8,238,465 (64%) to his own campaign. (Ah! Our new governor beat him silly. He spent $32,000,000)

"Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty I'm free at last." (MLK Jr.)

…..Many Tea Partiers--not all-- appear to have a distorted view of  who is entitled to individual liberty.  They claim that only “true” Americans ought to benefit from  its blessings.  Of course, the implication is that they are the true Americans and  that immigrants and other groups that are not like them are a threat to economic prosperity or national security.  Naturally, for them, freedom for these groups ought to be restricted and freedom for certain individuals no longer is a universal practice.  Liberty then becomes a privilege of the few.  However, in my view, the founding fathers intended that freedom is an inalienable right for all.  Thus, the really “true” Americans are those who still believe in that.

…..According to: Aziz Rana, an assistant professor of law at Cornell University, and the author of "The Two Faces of American Freedom", "…  In order for the Democratic Party to regain the trust of the American people they…” …must clearly explain how securing liberty rests on exerting democratic control over mammoth private companies -- by employing government to reduce the size of banks, to roll back corporate privileges and to ensure that the public has a greater say in the most important decisions. Today those social movements that articulated this vision of freedom are largely demobilized and it rests primarily with the Democratic Party leadership to carry on their aspirations”

 .....The question is whether Obama and those around him still believe in these values, and whether or not they will aggressively pursue them against the fearsome opposition of the conservative right, corporate interests, and the wealthy few.

Veterans' Day and Heroism

This Thursday is Veterans’ Day and I am reminded about something I have thought about for many years and on many occasions; that is, the concept of "heroism". Webster defines heroism as "a heroic act especially in fulfilling a high purpose or attaining a noble end." A friend upon introducing me to a grandchild recently told him that I was a "war hero". I never cared for that designation, and I told the youngster—a teenager-- that the true heroes were not the survivors, but those who fought and didn't come back. The fact that I was awarded medals does not make me heroic; they simply document the quantity and quality of my service in WWII.  People tend to make heroes of "warriors" when actually heroism abounds in the lives of ordinary people--people with the moral virtues and courage to accept and meet the challenges of life, people who aspire to greatness, who attempt to “fulfill a high purpose”, people who change our lives and ultimately the lives of others.   Sir Edmund Hillary didn’t say the mountain was “too high.” Lincoln didn’t say Emancipation was “too controversial”. Both found themselves in conditions demanding  indomitable  courage.   They aspired to greatness, and they achieved it.

In Aristotle's “ Ethics" he defines the moral virtues--such as "courage"--as being in a "mean state" between two vices--one of defect and one of excess. Consequently courage is a virtue; foolhardiness is a “ defect” in that it involves a lack of sufficient fear, and cowardice is a defect which is an excess of fear that prohibits action. So, by this philosophy, who is the hero? Certainly not the person who is without fear. It is the person who has an excess of fear but who overcomes it in order to change his own life and perhaps the life of another--or many others. My heroes are Joan d'Arc,  Julius Caesar (who went to the Senate in spite of dire warnings), Lincoln, Einstein, the Wright Brothers, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King, and Drs. Salk and Sabin.

A full life offers many opportunities for heroism. In New York on 9/11 the firefighters knew their job was dangerous, and for certain when they entered the towers to rescue people they were not without fear. The fire was their antagonist, but they pressed on to “fulfill a high purpose” with nobility and courage. They were heroes. No matter what your job or situation happens to be, life deals you a hand; if you don't leave the table, but stay the game, you too can be a hero. A soldier in battle, faces death at any moment; yet he knows what he must do. If he sees a grenade thrown at his buddy's feet and he throws his body on it--it's an automatic act; fear or fearlessness does not enter into his action. It is something that he must do. And those who were never in battle, find it impossible to understand. Thus if we attempt to find  heroes in the war in Iraq and Afghanistan—then what is the “high purpose” that we are trying to fulfill? And what is “the noble end”? (World War II had it; Vietnam did not). That is what the families of the American dead will be asking. And if I were fighting in those wars, I would be asking the same thing.  And my answer would be “There is no high purpose; nor is there a noble end.” And insofar as my being a "war hero" to the grandson, I've done more heroic things in my life out of uniform rather than in it.

"The insolence of wealth will creep out." (Samuel Johnson)

…..Today in Florida we have a newly elected governor who spent $73 million dollars out of his own big pocket in order to buy an election!   That’s right—73 mil.  I hope he has enough left to buy himself a decent meal; or if not that, a toupee.  More money was spent in this election than any other that I can remember.  Many candidates had corporate donations to spend on media spots in order to get elected.  It appears that in American politics  in the 21^st Century one cannot get elected if not wealthy.  Consequently, I don’t believe we have a Democracy any longer in this nation.  Corporate greed is leading us more and more toward a plutocracy.  According to Webster, A Democracy is:

 a : government by the people; especially : rule of the majority b : a government in which the supreme power is vested in the people and exercised by them directly or indirectly through a system of representation usually involving periodically held free elections.

…..Now, anyone reading this must come to the conclusion that the “supreme power” is not vested in the people any longer—it’s invested in the wealthy politicians who will vote for any legislation that does not operate against their financial station and which does not affect the financial interests of the corporations and individuals who contribute to their election funds.  Consequently, once more, I believe that we now are governed by a Plutocracy.  If only the wealthy can afford to run for public office, are we not more a plutocracy than a democracy?  The masses of the American people go to the polls like sheep to vote for candidates they had no opportunity to choose.  They were chosen only by the vested interests in the political party to which they belong.  Oh, quiet!  I know that I don’t know what I’m talking about.  It’s all in my imagination.

"A woman is a dish for the gods." (Antony & Cleopatra)

…..I’ve often wondered who it is that does some work around here?  Who rises at almost dawn (8a.m.), has some breakfast, usually some oatmeal or cereal or cottage cheese and fruit or peanut butter and an English muffin?  Who makes the bed and who changes the linen when it’s needed?  Who is it that puts out the bath towels for whomever might wish to take a shower?  Who replaces the toilet tissue when it rolls all the way out?  Who takes clothing out of the hamper, puts it in the washer and then the dryer and then folds everything that pops out of it?  And who puts the folded stuff away?  Who cooks the meals here once or twice a week and then clears the table and puts the dishes in the dishwasher and then empties it and puts the clean plates and silverware on the proper shelves?  Who selects restaurants for dining three or four times a week and then pays for it with another’s credit card?  And who can answer these questions?  Who is it that plays cards on Monday nights and Tuesday afternoons, and who is it that goes  bowling every Thursday afternoon?  Who does this, eh?

…..And who gets her nails done every Friday and who gets her hair done every Saturday morning?  Who has been the President of the City of Hope charitable organization chapter in Huntington Lakes for the past four years, and whose chapter has raised thousands of dollars to donate to this medical research hospital in California?  Who is it that vows never to do this again, but who, nevertheless, enjoys the leadership role she plays?  Who sees to it that birthday, anniversary, and holiday cards are sent out every month when needed?  Who does all the food shopping at Publix every once in a blue Florida moon?  Who maintains at least 50 pairs of shoes in her closet?  And who can pass Marmi’s in the mall without trying on at least one more pair?  Who is it that’s computer literate and who spends several hours every week attempting to answer all the emails she receives and who is it that is addicted to a certain game on her laptop?  Who is it that carries band-aids in her purse to keep a certain party from bleeding to death.  Who lunches with every friend who loves her and holds her in high esteem?  Who is it that holds a certain party by the hand while he attempts not to fall while using a cane?  Who is it that reads one book on her kindle while reading another in large print from the library?  And who is a grandmother supreme?

…..Now if I can only find out who it is that does all this and still remains compos mentis I’d be willing to pay her a few bucks.

Bardolatry II

.....Whenever I think of Shakespeare sitting down to write a play with a goose feathered quill pen, I tend to say to myself, "This cannot happen. This cannot be done. It isn't possible."  In P.S. 39 in the Bronx when I was 10 or 11 in the sixth grade I had an inkwell in my desk and a pen with a metal disk which I had to dip into the ink and write with it--often having to use a "blotter" to soak up a bubble of ink that dripped onto the paper.  It took forever to write anything.  Shakespeare did not have the benefit of Papermate ballpoint pens or a word processor on his computer.  Now, I wonder, did he write a play all the way through without a single error or correction that needed to be made?  Did he not have whiteout? Did he not have to write and rewrite as he went along?  And did he not have to write a whole play over again after making corrections in the margins?  (I did read somewhere that Tolstoy's wife had to copy his "War and Peace" thirteen times to get it right.)

.....  Now, Shakespeare, besides writing 36 plays and 154 sonnets, was also an actor and had to take time to learn his lines.  He was a member of the Lord Chamberlain's Company--a group of actors who contributed funds for the building of the Globe Theatre and they held shares in it.  And Shakespeare, though not the accomplished actor as was Richard Burbage, still performed in many plays.   Nevertheless, after his acting and his writing, he still managed the time to share a pint of ale in a Bidford inn with his friends and to exercise his love life.

.....In November 1582, at the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, eight years his senior after she informed him that she was pregnant with their first child, Susanna.  There is evidence that Anne's family pressured young William to make her an honest woman.  It was the custom in Elizabethan times to announce the "banns" three times during church services over a period of three weeks as a method of giving an objector to the marriage enough time to come forward; but the banns were announced only once--very unusual--and of course, very hasty.  Twins, Hamnet (who died at the age of eleven), and Judith were born in 1585.  Shakespeare never made it to Hamnet's funeral because he was off to the countryside with a traveling troupe and there was no telling where he was at the time, and no way to get a message to him.  By 1592 Shakespeare had gone to London, already known as an actor and a playwright.  Those who try to give credit for the plays to some other "University educated" guy from Oxford or Cambridge are smoking the wrong weed.  The evidence that Will of Stratford was Will of the plays is overwhelming.  Now, I've been teaching the plays for many years and when someone complains to me that they are too hard to understand, I say to them that only the things that are above you can lift you up.  If I were to be stranded on a desert Island, I would like to bring with me my toothbrush, a roll of toilet paper, a six pack of diet Coke, several pairs of clean underwear, and a copy of Shakespeare's plays.