Sometimes a scream is better than a thesis. (Emerson)

.....I'm really angry at my computer, and I am seriously thinking about doing something other than working at it. It seems to do what it wants whenever it wants, but the latest prank is to lose my Word program which I use to print a book, with the comments. Since there is no longer a Word program, I can't move this blog anywhere.  And insofar as comments are concerned I keep getting one from someone named "Anonymous" on a Feb. 26, 2009 post.  It comes to my email every day and I cannot find how I can delete it--and finding how is another problem. It is always from a commercial firm and I don't publish it.

But not only have I lost the Word program, but also Quicken. I have used Quicken to record all my financial information such as a bank balance, a CD, and my expenses.  I need go no further; my computer has gone back to when I bought it naked.  I dressed it up, and now it's naked again.  Or is it "nude"; and what's the difference? I guess "naked" is more pejorative. Well, read the poem "The Naked and the Nude by Robert Graves.

 

.....90 year olds should not be subjected to these problems. I'm beginning to feel like Job. I got a letter last week from the insurance company that has paid claims to me for skin cancer that I've been getting from them since I bought the policy in 1978!  Then of a sudden I get a letter from them excluding skin cancer from that policy and rejecting a claim I sent to them recently.  When I bought the policy in 1978 I thought it was a good deal with premiums $46 a year which in today's economy seems even a better deal.  However, I don't know if they can change the benefits of that policy any time they want even after 36 years.  I've already paid them $1656 in premiums.  I mean to find out from the proper government agency.

 

.....And now poor RH+ is not so plussy these last few days.  She has a very mean cold, cough, and runny nose.  I can't drive her to the doctor because I gave her my car keys, and I don't drive anymore.  I have always believed that once you turn 90, you should get off the road, and I have.  I don't drive and I don't fly--and I have found that even cruising is dangerous considering the fact that I broke both hips on cruise ships. However, I may consider flying for the right reasons some day; but only if the hotels & busses have the facilities for a scooter as they do here when we go by bus.

"I shall not cease from Mental Fight, nor shall my Sword sleep in my hand..." (BLAKE)

.....Sorry that it has taken so long to write another post, but I was busy doing other things of importance--like making a will.  That is a very tough exercise if your spouse is a second marriage.  I am doing it on the internet at a web called "Total Legal".  For $19 it's pretty neat.  I spent $19 on "Tax Act" and my return, made online, was sent electronically to the IRS and I got a $5330 refund in one week. (I think I was taking out too much withholding!). 

.....To completely change the subject before I forget, I got a call from the French Consulate yesterday.  They want to pin a medal on me.  They're somewhat more late than the Navy with my medals.  The pin ceremony is to take place in Boynton Beach on May 8th.  I guess I earned it chasing the Nazis out of France shooting down their Dorniers, Junkers, and Messerschmitts. The Luftwaffe of the Third Reich officially existed from 1933–1945; training for a German air force had been going on as early as the 1920s, before the Nazis came to power.  I was so busy in that tail turret that I felt like Snoopy in his Sopwith Camel.

 

.....Well Passover has come and gone again--for the 90th time I may say.  And what's the big deal about eating matzoh?  I eat it all year round; I prefer it over white bread.  And I learned that sixth graders have described the matzoh that Jews ate in the Exodus, as "unleavened bread without any ingredients."  And to get the ten "condiments" Moses had to climb Mt. Cyanide.  I hope he brought some Matzoh for God with onion and chicken fat to rub on it; although RH+ claims that combo is a cholesterol induced heart attack.

 

.....I've written a lot of posts for this blog since I published "Of Time and Destiny".  The last posted date published in that book is August 7, 2013.  However, and unfortunately, my computer somehow lost the Word Program that I used for the book. It also lost Excel and Quicken.  All of these programs are very important for my mental health, and I don't know where they disappeared--probable to the hard drive and I don't know how to get them back.  If only I was living in the 21st Century instead of holding my place in the 20th, perhaps I'd be able to retrieve them with the techie knowledge required.  Well, like Socrates said, "All I know is that I know nothing."

"War is a very high price to pay for maturity"

"I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying."

 

.....Yes. I agree. And I did a lot of nine-year old crying and yearning for the seashore that I was used to in Long Branch.  The South Bronx was an entirely new universe for me--another "error" in my life.  One cannot control an event, but one can at least control the meaning of an event.  Our little family's move was life-altering, and I knew that the Bronx was where I was to grow up.  For my mother's sake (she did not like to see me brooding), I determined to do well in school, to make friend's there, and to make friends with the kids on my block--and I succeeded.

 

 

.....I began in the sixth grade, and after a batch of tests, I was put in the Dalton program which supposedly was only for kids who got high marks on those tests.  The school was up at the corner of the block where I lived which was good, but pupils had to wear uniforms and I had to wear a white shirt with a red tie which was bad!  I had bright red hair, and I never wanted anything else on my body that was red.  James Monroe HS was about a half mile walk.  I did get some good grades and some bad grades.  Some of my teachers bored me--they had no acting ability.  I joined the soccer team, the swimming team, and the track team.  I became sports editor of the Monroe Mirror, the school paper.  That brought me a modicum of fame. On Kelly St., I made many friends--male and female, largely because I was a three sewer hitter in stickball.  Now that I'm in Florida, they are all dead, and that part of my long ago life is also dead.  It was an event I could not control, but I embraced its meaning; it made me stronger. 

.....I was 21 when WII ended.  It was another error or event, if you will, that could not be controlled.  But three years in a war had to have some meaning besides giving something to your country, and in combat facing a time every day with running out of time to a time when your family did not get to hold you, but did embrace a folded flag.  The fact that the flag is folded has an axiomatic meaning in itself.  They called it "battle fatigue" when I was in the VA hospital for six months, and I spent some time writing poetry (which eventually got me into Columbia).  I heard that the male nurses had a softball team and their games were played on the hospital grounds.  My competitive spirit took over my mental spirit, and I got together a patient softball team. We played the nurses about twice a week, and we even won some games.  I settled for nothing less.  I didn't have to work and I was in a leadership role where I generally flourished.  My girlfriend, Thelma, came to visit twice a week, as did my mother--and the social worker, Lucille Cusick, took a great interest in my poetry.


.....Mrs. Cusick changed my life.  She insisted that I go to college, and urged me to register at Columbia University.  I laughed at her, said she was crazy, told her I had only commercial courses in high school.  Nevertheless, she insisted that I take the entrance exam.  I thought she was only trying to urge me to get dressed, wear a tie, and get away from the hospital. So, I thought it might be an interesting adventure.  I took the entrance exam and broke the record for the lowest score ever recorded.  It didn't bother me a bit.  I enjoy breaking records. But one day, I had one of my poems printed in a very prestigious magazine, "The Saturday Review" edited by Stephen Rose Benet.  It wasn't I who submitted it.  However, the front cover happened to have a picture of Lenora Speyer, a poet, and professor at Columbia.  Lucille schlepped me back to Admissions at Columbia, showed the poem to the admitting officer and the rest is history.  I fixed the WWII error.


 

 

 

 

 

"I will drink life to the lees; all times I have I enjoy'd greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those that loved me and alone" (Ulysses)

.....I'm coming to the point where I cannot think of anything to write about--except me.  After all, this blog is my blog and according to the First Amendment, I can say just about anything about me.  I feel that I am a good subject to write about.  From the beginning this blog was created for the grandchildren now and the grandchildren to come who will develop a curiosity about their grandfather, and great grandfather, and so on down the line.  However the "line" looks pretty thin now--except for Max and Katrina who have produced Huston who may want to learn about his great grandfather.  And it so happens that he can read 14 books with posts on many a subject.  (uh oh--just got a message above that an error has occurred on this page and that I should try again later).  Well, I am not going to wait for later, error or no error.  I am carrying on despite that dire message.

.....And there, my friends, (or grandchildren) is a lesson about life.  If an "error" occurs in your life, deal with it with intelligence, fix it, and get on with your life.  I have had to deal with many an "error" in my life, and I can truly say that I "fixed" them--with intelligence which I probably inherited from my mother, bless her.  The first error occurred when I was old enough to see that my father was a triple amputee, and for pain that he suffered my mother gave him shots of morphine every day.  It took me a long time to figure out this error, but I fixed it.  I accepted him as my father no matter how many limbs he lost.

....So, since I'm writing about me, I believe the next error that I survived was WWII.  Is it possible that my entrance into WWII was 70 years ago?  I find that hard to believe. My mother wouldn't sign for me unless I asked the Navy to be a "yeoman"--which is the Navy's way of saying a secretary.  After all, I did take typing and stenography in high school and was very proficient in both skills.  My school offered two programs: Commercial & General.  Kids in commercial classes took typing, steno, bookkeeping, etc. while kids in General took courses leading to college.  Since I had no chance to go to college, I decided I'd be a court stenographer or a sports writer.  I became neither.  What I became was a tail gunner on a B24, (in Navy parlance a PB4Y1), and flew 60 combat missions in Europe and the Pacific.  For the record we were assigned to Fleet Air Wing Seven.  When the war was over I came home and went back to work in a bank as a teller.  I could not adjust to "civilian" life after three years in the Navy, and so I became more and more depressed, and even on the edge of suicide.  Well, since I was looney tunes, my mother insisted that I go to the VA hospital for help.  I told her, I didn't need help, but still agreed to go, and that I would be out in a day or two.  Well, the "error" in my life that was a war found me shortly in a locked hospital ward for six months!  By "locked", I mean there were bars on the windows.  I met with a psychiatrist every day, and when I wasn't with him, I was in the hallway walking back and forth for hours.  There is more to this story but I don't want to bore you with the details right now.  Maybe I'll bore you tomorrow.  I do not remember if I spoke in detail of this to my kids--but they ought to know.

"Man arrives as a novice at each age of his life."

,,,,,Hi friends, do I have a treat for you today! You may recall that in a previous posting to this wonderful blog, I gave you the 10 best foods in my diet.  Well, they may not be in my diet now--as RH+ says, but I like them.  And now I will give you another 10 in my repertoire--and they are love songs that I have heard and liked:

1. Beatles--Something
2. Elton John--Your Song
3. Paul McCartney--Maybe I'm Amazed
4. Roberta Flack--The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face
5. Billy Joel--Just the Way You Are.
6. Beatles--Yesterday
7. Beatles--And I Love Her
8. Eric Clapton--Wonderful Tonite
9. Modern English--I Melt With You
10. Righteous Brothers--Unchained Melody

.....And there you have it friends of the Baron.  My 10 best love songs.  Oh, I really don't mean they are better than others; when I say "10 best", I mean I like them the best--if you follow my meaning.  I would love to hear from whoever reads this to tell me a couple of your favorite love songs--of which there are oodles!

.....I recently read an article in the paper which indicated that TriRail was going to audition seniors over 65 for a show they are doing in May. They are looking for 12 performers.  I realized that I was over 65 so I called them and told the nice lady to put my name down as one who cared to audition, namely me.  I'm just doing it for the adventure; from the myriad of seniors who will be involved, I really don't think I'll be one of the 12.  The auditions are being held tomorrow.  The sorrowful thing is that I really can't sing anymore.  My voice has gone south, as have several other things.  I'll let you know how I made out.

"Sing, sing in soaring grace, oh Lark"

.....One day in late August or early September, 1941, a 19-year-old Royal Canadian Air Force fighter pilot named John Gillespie Magee, Jr., who was then serving with the No. 412 Squadron in Royal Air Force Digby, England, sent a letter to his parents. “I am enclosing a verse I wrote the other day,” he began. “It started at 30,000 feet, and was finished soon after I landed.” The verse, or “ditty,” as Magee later refers to it, was a sonnet titled “High Flight,” a fourteen-line paean to the sublimity and sheer joy of flight felt by Magee during a solo run in his Spitfire aircraft. Magee’s aunt helped get the poem published in the November 12th issue of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, where it may have remained known to a limited readership had not tragedy struck.

 

.....It was December 11th, only a few months after Magee—a United States citizen who had joined the RCAF in 1940 before the U.S. entered World War II—had written “High Flight.” Returning to base with his squadron after participating in a successful training exercise, Magee’s Spitfire collided with an Airspeed Oxford piloted by Ernest Aubrey Griffin. Both Magee and Griffin were killed. Within days of Magee’s death, “High Flight” had been reprinted in newspapers across the U.S. Soon after, the RCAF began distributing plaques with the text of the poem to British and Canadian airfields and training stations. And before long, copies of the poem could be found in the pockets of many U.S., Canadian, and British fighter pilots.  (Story from Expedia)

 

.....I also found a copy of the poem in a British newspaper in 1942.

 

HIGH FLIGHT

 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth

And danced the sky on laughter-silvered wings;

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth

On sun-split clouds--and done a hundred things

 

You have not dreamed of--wheeled and soared and swung

High in the sunlit silence.  Hov'ring there

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung

My eager craft through footless halls of air.

 

Up, up the long delirious , burning blue,

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace

Where never lark or even eagle flew

And while with silent lifting mind I've trod

 

The high untresspassed sanctity of space,

Put out my hand and touched the face of God.

 

It's a spirited poem, and I know whereof he speaks even though I was not a Spitfire pilot.  It calls back the unmitigated joy of flight. To continue this post is difficult; I want to continue with the mood.

 



 



"Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens." (Julius Caesar)

.....I found a new way to save money, and I'm thinking about it.  First of all we have been using a company that will send a man to fix any appliance in your home when things go wrong, and if the appliance cannot be fixed they will give you new one.  The cost?   $385 a year.  In 2013 we only had to call on them once to give us a new garbage disposal in our sink.  $385 is a stiff price to pay for such little use, don't you think?  I believe a better idea is that when you need something fixed, then check the yellow pages for a guy who could fix it.  Of course if a large item, like a water heater or air conditioner dies, then buy a new one from a brand you can trust.  Best Buy is the place to go.  Large items like those I've mentioned rarely need to be replaced.  Thus you can save money by dumping the appliance company and keep the $385.      

 

.....OK. Sorry, but I have used all the colors I can find that are offered for this blog, so I'll use black--even though I'm told it is not a "color".  Who said so?  If isn't a color then perhaps someone will give me an explanation.  In my life I've learned quite a bit, but colors are not my forte.  If knowledge is catching, then go out and catch it.  Maybe Socrates or Plato or I said this.  What's the difference?  I believe that there is so much to learn in this world, one should attempt to learn something new each day.  For example, did you know that a 12- year- old sold 18,107 Girl Scout cookies in seven weeks, an all-time record.  I believe there should be a ban after selling 10 boxes.  Be aware of the problem of obesity in our schools.  Also, did you know that the human nose can smell 1 trillion odors?  With this knowledge, two things come to mind: if your milk smells sour, dump it.  And why spend all that time teaching dogs to smell hidden illegal drugs, why not train humans with large noses to do that in a much shorter time?  Alexander Pope once said, "A little learning is a dangerous thing; drink deep or taste not the Pierian Spring."  (In Greek mythology the Pierian Spring of Macedonia was sacred to the muses as a source of knowledge)

 

.....I recently read that the Supreme Court claimed that it was Constitutional for corporations--or individuals to make unlimited donations to a political party--(or something like that).  Since this is a plutocracy anyway, and since the GOP is stacked up with billionaires, and since five Supreme Court judges were appointed by Republican Presidents, what verdict would you expect?  Giving donations to political parties, the majority claimed, was free speech protected by the First Amendment. Giving money is free speech?  Does this mean that I could have asked my parents to give me more money, more often, and if they objected, I could claim that a lack of a donation would be un-Constitutional?

 

.....Insofar as the Supreme Court is concerned, it's a joke.  They are like the Marx Brothers.  They think they are thinking when they are merely rearranging their prejudices.