This Saturday, Oct. 2 is the feast day of the Guardian Angels. Many would say the whole idea of Guardian Angels is laughable, a work of fiction. Perhaps it is but I prefer to think not. Indulge me, please. I couldn't talk about Guardian Angels without bringing up Frank Capra's "Its A wonderful Life". This story of a man saved from suicide by an Angel called Clarence was first thought to be a failure on the part of Frank Capra, some even called it Capra-Corn, has ended up being one of the most inspirational films which is always played around Christmas time. I have wondered if this isn't some divine intervention taking a seemingly failure and letting it raise to a position of greatness so that an important moral, a way of life can be learned from this "failure". Anyway, I believe in Guardian Angels. I have one as do you. My Guardian Angel's name is Junior and he has been with me forever. When Junior was first assigned to me he thought it would be an easy task but he was wrong. I and he thought my life would be short and he could go into semi-retirement. Wrong again. Just the other day we were reminiscing about the time he saved me from getting court marshaled.
Some 53 years ago when I was in the Army we had a change of company commanders. CWO Marion C. Durban was replaced by WO Scottie Haynes. Durban really liked me. Haynes really hated me and set out to make life miserable. At the time I had a medical profile that said I couldn't stand for more than 20 minutes without sitting for 20 minutes. I rarely used it except for KP, in fact it got me off the KP roster. Scottie insisted that I go back on and when I sat for my break and the Mess Sargent read my profile he threw me out of the mess hall and demanded a replacement. Scottie sent me up to the Medics where I got the idea, from Jr. I think, to let the Doctor's know that Scottie was challenging their medical decision which led to a full bird Colonel calling him and chewing him out. When I returned to the Orderly Room I overheard Scottie telling his First Sargent to take me outside and ride me until I broke so he could bring me up on court marshal charges. Well, the First Sargent was not a nice guy. He had me Policing, Army for cleaning up, on my hands and knees. He suddenly got the idea that I should crawl under the barracks which were on stilts and clean up everything on my stomach. I told him I didn't think my legs could stand this pressure but you know how persuasive Sargent's can be and so I crawled under to the middle of the barracks. I was laying face down in the dirt thinking , This is a fine mess you've got me into Junior" when Junior gave me this great idea. I started to scream and yell that my legs and back had cramped up and I couldn't move. I started yelling for the Medics. Now the Sarge. remembered how the full bird threatened to bust everybody who challenged his medical diagnoses and so he chickened out and told me to crawl out. I responded I couldn't and he'd have to crawl under and gingerly get me out and then get me to the dreaded full bird Colonel awaiting to bust them all down to Privates. So he in his Khakis nicely cleaned and pleated and me in my OD's came out by him gently pulling a screaming Private out from under the barracks. When he finally stood up his pleats were gone, his face was dirty as was his once clean uniform. When Scottie saw I was insistent on going to the medics he insisted that I stay in the barracks and try and get some rest and gave me a three day pass starting the next day. Scottie never did grow to like me although I must admit he did amuse me. His Sargent's never seemed to bother me after that. Thinking about the good old days gave Jr., my Guardian Angel and me a good laugh. But don't think this is a once in a life time thing meant only for the young and foolish.
About two months ago I was on my morning walk, around 6:30 AM and as I crossed a street that had a full stop sign I noticed out of the corner of my eye something that scared me, Jr. was screaming watch out. I made a move to get out of the way of an oncoming car that caught me in the left knee and I fell down, rather gently. The driver got out of the car, a young guy a little younger than my children, and as I was holding my knee he stood over me and asked; "Are you hurt?" to which I replied, "I don't know yet.". He offered his hand to help me up and I yelled at him to get away from me since he did enough damage already. Going through my mind was how can I make this a profitable happening and then Jr. got to me and said , "He could be one of your sons." In fact one of my sons did something similar some years back and the guy let him off the hook. I thought, "Thanks Jr. for nothing.". I flexed my leg, tested my back, shook his hand and told him not to be so stupid and run Stop signs and left. I am fine, poorer but OK and Jr. is happy. He did remind me that he helped with that athletic move that helped me get out of harms way and he softened my fall. Yes my Guardian Angel is always on the job. How can I not believe in him? How can you not believe in yours?
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Archangels, Michael, Gabriel and Raphael
Today is the feast day of these three Archangels. With all due respect to Bill Maher and his ilk please allow me to share with you some of the reasons I have a personal relationship with three great messengers of God.
Michael is mentioned in Revelations as throwing out Lucifer and his angels from heaven. He is pictured as a great fighter. A defender of right. Many years ago when I had only one and then two children I found an altar dedicated to St. Louis and St. Michael in St. Patrick's Cathedral just to the left of the Blessed Mother's Chapel. I was doing rather poorly at the time and I admit I was a bit frightened by the prospects and my having the responsibility of being a father. I prayed to St. Michael (Louis as well) for guidance and a bit of stiffening of the spine, asking I guess, for greater trust in God. I promised to name my next son with their names as a token of my thanks for their help. I received their help and my third son bears their names. My son not only bears his name but I can see the influence Michael has had on him as he looks over him. He has given him his fire, enthusiasm and drive, maybe a little two much. I am told when he was growing up he would get into fights but one mistake, he'd take on the guys who were bigger than himself. But Michael's drive and devotion to his beliefs are very apparent in his namesake. I have no fear for my son he's in good hands.
Gabriel is the one God sent to Mary to gently tell her of the plan which she graciously accepted. He is also said to be the one who will blow the trumpet loud and clear at the second coming. I too was a trumpet player, one with not a lot of confidence. The first gig I played at Sunny's Bar and Grill in Howard Beach found me so nervous my stomach was quivering so much that my vibrato sound like Guy Lombardo's band only worse. So I latched onto to Gabriel and boy, did he help. Slowly I gained confidence. I got into Local 802 when I was 17. Back then you didn't just pay the entrance fee, they tested you. The tester stuck "Beautiful Dreamer" on the music stand and after I played it he had me transpose it a key higher and then another key higher; he had me play many chords and scales and tested my range. Well Gabe worked hard because he got me through it as he got me into the the Army Band and helped me hit a double C when I was alone standing before a couple of hundred men in the boondocks of Georgia. I do think Gabe likes Jazz better than classical or heavenly music but I have no proof of that. All I know he's been there for me more than once and I love him for that.
Raphael is in the "Book of Tobit". This old testament scripture is part of the Septuagint, the first Greek translation of the old testament and does not appear in the Jewish and/or most Protestant Bibles. Raphael guides Tobias through many obstacles not the least of which the girl Tobias wanted to marry had seven previous marriages and all of her husbands died on the marriage night. I don't know about you but I would've stayed away from THAT girl but Raphael was asked to help and he got them through the night AND they had a good life with many children. Raphael also helped Tobit, Tobais' father to shed his cataracts. He guided Tobias through his long journey and got him to his destination and back safely and successfully.
I promised Raphael that one of my sons would bear his name and my second son does, his second name as his first is Anthony. What Italian household would pass up Anthony? We rarely use the name Raphael and my father only called him by his first name. A few things worth mentioning. Raphael was depicted as God's messenger to bring love and understanding to the families involved, including that poor girl I mentioned before who was beginning to feel like a bad omen. He was gentle in his manner and way. He cured and rejoiced in people being happy. My second son is in the business of helping children many of which are compromised and he does so with compassion and love. He guides, helps and soothes. Raphael, I am sure is a great influence in his life. My father had colon cancer and in Jan. 1971 went through the tunnel to the white light led by Raphael. Remember, he never called my son by that name and except for the Baptism he never heard us use it. He had a large family and there wasn't a Raphael among them. Yet on the night he passed after many years of intense suffering, as he was in a coma he was heard calling for Raphael over and over again. Then there was quiet after the last call. Raphael, guided him as he did Tobias to his destination, to the white light to be in union with Jesus Christ and his Mom and Dad and brothers he'd left so long ago in Italy. He was home brought by Raphael the Archangel. Who else would he be calling by that name?
So my faithful messengers of God, Happy feast day.
Michael is mentioned in Revelations as throwing out Lucifer and his angels from heaven. He is pictured as a great fighter. A defender of right. Many years ago when I had only one and then two children I found an altar dedicated to St. Louis and St. Michael in St. Patrick's Cathedral just to the left of the Blessed Mother's Chapel. I was doing rather poorly at the time and I admit I was a bit frightened by the prospects and my having the responsibility of being a father. I prayed to St. Michael (Louis as well) for guidance and a bit of stiffening of the spine, asking I guess, for greater trust in God. I promised to name my next son with their names as a token of my thanks for their help. I received their help and my third son bears their names. My son not only bears his name but I can see the influence Michael has had on him as he looks over him. He has given him his fire, enthusiasm and drive, maybe a little two much. I am told when he was growing up he would get into fights but one mistake, he'd take on the guys who were bigger than himself. But Michael's drive and devotion to his beliefs are very apparent in his namesake. I have no fear for my son he's in good hands.
Gabriel is the one God sent to Mary to gently tell her of the plan which she graciously accepted. He is also said to be the one who will blow the trumpet loud and clear at the second coming. I too was a trumpet player, one with not a lot of confidence. The first gig I played at Sunny's Bar and Grill in Howard Beach found me so nervous my stomach was quivering so much that my vibrato sound like Guy Lombardo's band only worse. So I latched onto to Gabriel and boy, did he help. Slowly I gained confidence. I got into Local 802 when I was 17. Back then you didn't just pay the entrance fee, they tested you. The tester stuck "Beautiful Dreamer" on the music stand and after I played it he had me transpose it a key higher and then another key higher; he had me play many chords and scales and tested my range. Well Gabe worked hard because he got me through it as he got me into the the Army Band and helped me hit a double C when I was alone standing before a couple of hundred men in the boondocks of Georgia. I do think Gabe likes Jazz better than classical or heavenly music but I have no proof of that. All I know he's been there for me more than once and I love him for that.
Raphael is in the "Book of Tobit". This old testament scripture is part of the Septuagint, the first Greek translation of the old testament and does not appear in the Jewish and/or most Protestant Bibles. Raphael guides Tobias through many obstacles not the least of which the girl Tobias wanted to marry had seven previous marriages and all of her husbands died on the marriage night. I don't know about you but I would've stayed away from THAT girl but Raphael was asked to help and he got them through the night AND they had a good life with many children. Raphael also helped Tobit, Tobais' father to shed his cataracts. He guided Tobias through his long journey and got him to his destination and back safely and successfully.
I promised Raphael that one of my sons would bear his name and my second son does, his second name as his first is Anthony. What Italian household would pass up Anthony? We rarely use the name Raphael and my father only called him by his first name. A few things worth mentioning. Raphael was depicted as God's messenger to bring love and understanding to the families involved, including that poor girl I mentioned before who was beginning to feel like a bad omen. He was gentle in his manner and way. He cured and rejoiced in people being happy. My second son is in the business of helping children many of which are compromised and he does so with compassion and love. He guides, helps and soothes. Raphael, I am sure is a great influence in his life. My father had colon cancer and in Jan. 1971 went through the tunnel to the white light led by Raphael. Remember, he never called my son by that name and except for the Baptism he never heard us use it. He had a large family and there wasn't a Raphael among them. Yet on the night he passed after many years of intense suffering, as he was in a coma he was heard calling for Raphael over and over again. Then there was quiet after the last call. Raphael, guided him as he did Tobias to his destination, to the white light to be in union with Jesus Christ and his Mom and Dad and brothers he'd left so long ago in Italy. He was home brought by Raphael the Archangel. Who else would he be calling by that name?
So my faithful messengers of God, Happy feast day.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Joe Gerardi and The Yankees
I have to write this before tonight's game because I don't want anything to happen that might throw me off my complaints. Whether they win or lose the Yankees' season has been severely compromised because Gerardi manages by "plan" and nothing can make him deviate from that plan. Oh I know he's got an engineering degree from Northwestern and he's real bright, maybe too bright. All engineers have a plan and they follow it making only the adjustments that would make their project better or safer. BUT this is Baseball and sometimes the plans laid out are just no good so you have to change the plans. This has nothing to do with the strategy of how the game is played. Anybody in baseball knows "the book", and knows other strategies. All managers have been in Baseball for a long time so it depends on how they apply the nuances of the game and if they have the talent to execute said nuances. This is about managing athletes in a very long season and keeping their psyches well. This is about a philosophy of not preparing for something that needs prior accomplishments. Joe Gerardi, some time ago decided that he needed to have his team ready for the playoffs so they could go onto the World Series in top physical shape with his pitching rotation intact and a healthy restful bullpen. So he let it be known that he would manipulate his starters and bullpen to reach that position that the Yankees would be at full strength barring any injuries. He said we would see more of Gauguin and Mitre and minor league call ups so as not to tire his relievers. Everything is working to plan EXCEPT he forgot one thing; you have to win more than your competition to make it all worthwhile. He has given up on games early, like last night's game, losing only 4 to 0 he brings in Chad Gauguin instead of one of his top relievers, and Chad promptly gives up two home runs putting the game out of reach especially since Lester is pitching a no hitter into the 5th. inning. The last two weeks the Yanks have been terrible because this philosophy has crept into the players minds. The pro ballplayer has to think they're invincible, and the Yanks did. Then, Gerardi's master plan kicked in. The first effect on their collective sub-conscious was we've won so they let up, only a bit, lost some games and then sub-consciously began to doubt themselves. They are now in a collective funk. With a week to go the Yanks need only 3 games to clinch a playoff spot, which they should do. BUT, they have taken a beating to get there, if Gerardi played to win they could've closed one or two weeks ago. Instead as we enter tonight's game, If they do not win they will still have 3 games to clinch with Boston, decimated by serious injuries to star players, closing fast because they play to win EVERY game. I wish the best for Joe Gerardi, but win or lose the bid for the World Series I'd feel better with him Managing the Chicago Cubs next year. We can't get Buck Showalter back but there must be someone out there, Bobby Valentine, Willie Randolph? Anyone because Joe must go!
Friday, September 24, 2010
A Season For Everything Under Heaven
Eddie Fisher has just died. Many of you may not know Eddie Fisher but during the 1950's and 60's he was as big as Frank Sinatra and all of them. I remember his recording of "Oh My Papa" which brought me to tears everytime I heard his rendition that had a terrific Trumpet solo on it. He blew it all when he dumped Debbie Reynolds for Liz Taylor who dumped him for Richard Burton. Ah, the follies of youth fueled by desire, hormones and alcohol. His daughter is Carrie Fisher, Princess Leia of "Star Wars". When I read his obit. I immediately thought of "Ecclesiastes" Chapter three which was set to music by Pete Segar and became The Byds biggest hit when they recorded it in 1965.
There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every affair under the heaven.
A time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to
uproot the plant.
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to tear down, and a time
to build.
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time
to dance.
A time to scatter stones, and a time to
gather them;
a time to embrace, and a time to be far from
embraces.
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep and a time to cast away.
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to be silent,
and a time to speak.
A time to love, and a time to hate;
a time of war, and a time of peace.
I thought Eddie had all these times. Then I thought about my blogs, "Memories are all we have" and
"Heroes and Saints Among Us". Eddie blew it all with his excesses which we can read about because he was rich and famous. But whether we made it to the top of the hill or not haven't we all tasted the moments of success and failures only we and a few others know about? It is how we grasped the "Times", the opportunities no matter how small or large and were able to appreciate the moment.
Some 54 years ago, I was in the last week of my basic training and we were out on bivouac. The last night, before we had to clean up the trenches and pot holes the next day it was decided we'd have some sort of celebration. The 2nd. Looey was going around trying to get singers or whatever talent he could muster and some guy told him I had my trumpet in the barracks and I was a professional musician. He came to me and at first requested that I entertain the troops. I tried to beg off, my trumpet was back on base and we were in the boondocks; I hadn't really played in over two months etc. Then he ORDERED that I would play. I went back in a special truck got my trumpet and was very scared that I would look the fool in front of some 150 guys, who really didn't want to be there anyway, under a Georgia sky all alone with a lip that I couldn't trust since I hadn't played in such a long time. Was this a "Time to win or a time to lose" big time? Anyway, the time came for me to perform. I had attempted to warm up a bit and I was lousy, clams galore. So I did what I always did when I felt I couldn't control the situation, I prayed and prayed hard and I think I included the Angel Gabriel in those prayers since he was supposed to be a trumpet player. I was announced and I walked out into a circle of about 150 guys, the Georgia sky was clear, the moon full and the sky lit up with stars that can only be viewed in the wilderness, and I was the scmuck that was going to screw it all up. I took a deep breath, tried to remember diaphragmic breathing and started to play. I started out with "Tin Roof Blues", went to my favorites, "Don't Blame Me" and "I'm In The Mood For Love" which I usually sang when I played back in New York but since nobody was drunk I didn't want to chance it. I ended that set with an up tune "Perdido". I could've walked off with a feeling of success but then I got greedy since I thought I was doing so well I decided to go for broke and started playing Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White", a Perez Prado hit with a great Trumpet solo that ended on a double F. I started with the glissando that was so popular on that song and got to it. I was playing and it sounded great under that Georgia star lit sky the only sound was my horn. Then I got to the end and I could've ended on an F, not a double cause I couldn't get up that high but I decided to go for broke and go for a double C, if I missed it I'd blow the whole night and I was sure I'd be the laughing stock of Charlie Company and so I hit the first F and instead of ending it I hit it again and then went for the double C and low and behold I hit it pure so pure that I felt that Gabriel was playing it and I held it for several beats and when I was done the whole contingent of soldiers rose to their feet and cheered and applauded for a long time and I can still hear them in the echos of my mind. Nothing spectacular followed but for me it was a great triumph. I went off by myself in the woods to offer prayers of thanksgiving for I couldn't have done it by myself. I bet you all have something like this in your lives but just because it didn't make headlines doesn't mean it wasn't important and great and a time to rejoice or maybe to cry.
Yes, the notice of Eddie Fisher's death brought memories flooding back; of times of defeat, victories, of saints and sinners. I guess we fit into all these categories but most of all it is good we can remember them because if we forget then it is as if nothing happened at all and that's not good.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Let Me Vent
First of all let me make it clear I voted for Obama and think he's way better than Bush. BUT what the hell is going on here? Obama promised transparency which I thought meant we could see what the hell was going on in our Government; that what was said was what was happening, good or bad. The other day I read that the administration, 'Bama or his spokesman said everything was going along to plan in Iraq and Afghanistan, which I figured we were winning and soon would move our fighting men back home. Does anyone think we are winning? By winning I mean defeating our enemies like we did in WWII, us crushing them. Iraq will take over as soon as it has a functioning government. Do you think that will ever happen? Even if it does go according to plan we will have 50,000 troops there. What is that chopped liver? No!!!! It is viable young fighting men who will be subjected to any violence that may come their way. Of course they will be protected by the Iraqi army. What BS is this? These people can't even defend themselves much less the greatest fighting force ever known. AND who among you think that if attacked these peace keeping troops won't fight back? Now to Afghanistan.
Since they got rid of the General who I guess showed insubordination every guy left says the Afghan war is going well, to plan. Yes we are protecting one of the most corrupt Governments whose people are stealing money we are sending in there to prop them up. AND if they aren't stealing they are shipping dope to our country so they can make even greater illegal wealth. We are fighting an invisible Army called The Taliban, who can defeat us in guerrilla warfare. So we should either get out of there or crush them with the might we have and damn world opinion. Most of the world wants us to lose anyway. You think different? You see any large amounts of other world soldiers alongside of us? Like the football coach in the beer commercial, says, "You play the game to WIN.", and to those who question that he says "Get Out!".
Why is it we can't find Osama Bin Laden? Have I misspelled a few names and words? Well I'm just a little guy venting but our Government is the richest, strongest one in the world and they may spell the names right and say the correct diplomatic thing BUT they can't find a guy who says he wants to destroy us. Doesn't that sound screwed up? Maybe if we really got mad and accomplished something like killing that guy or at least bringing him to trial I wouldn't feel like the good old US of A isn't the laughing stock of the world.
The last time we won a war was WWII, and Russia took us to the cleaners diplomatically, but we CRUSHED Germany and Japan. You fooled around with us and we stuck it to you and it took only 4 years. Since then we fought a stalemate in Korea, ran out with our tails between our legs in Vietnam but won in Grenada, boy aren't we good. Is Grenada bigger than any one of our States? Get my drift. Now here we are nine long years mired in two little two bit countries. Either we play the game to WIN or we should get out. I only hope the Obama camp stops fooling itself that we are winning when we clearly are not and tries to PLAY THE GAME TO WIN!
Since they got rid of the General who I guess showed insubordination every guy left says the Afghan war is going well, to plan. Yes we are protecting one of the most corrupt Governments whose people are stealing money we are sending in there to prop them up. AND if they aren't stealing they are shipping dope to our country so they can make even greater illegal wealth. We are fighting an invisible Army called The Taliban, who can defeat us in guerrilla warfare. So we should either get out of there or crush them with the might we have and damn world opinion. Most of the world wants us to lose anyway. You think different? You see any large amounts of other world soldiers alongside of us? Like the football coach in the beer commercial, says, "You play the game to WIN.", and to those who question that he says "Get Out!".
Why is it we can't find Osama Bin Laden? Have I misspelled a few names and words? Well I'm just a little guy venting but our Government is the richest, strongest one in the world and they may spell the names right and say the correct diplomatic thing BUT they can't find a guy who says he wants to destroy us. Doesn't that sound screwed up? Maybe if we really got mad and accomplished something like killing that guy or at least bringing him to trial I wouldn't feel like the good old US of A isn't the laughing stock of the world.
The last time we won a war was WWII, and Russia took us to the cleaners diplomatically, but we CRUSHED Germany and Japan. You fooled around with us and we stuck it to you and it took only 4 years. Since then we fought a stalemate in Korea, ran out with our tails between our legs in Vietnam but won in Grenada, boy aren't we good. Is Grenada bigger than any one of our States? Get my drift. Now here we are nine long years mired in two little two bit countries. Either we play the game to WIN or we should get out. I only hope the Obama camp stops fooling itself that we are winning when we clearly are not and tries to PLAY THE GAME TO WIN!
Monday, September 13, 2010
Heroes and Saints Among Us
Audy Murphy was the most decorated solider of WWII and remains one of our most revered heroes of any one who follows history closely. Babe Ruth dead since 1947 yet his name is the most recognized of all sports figures, world wide. Mother Theresa, we all know this little yet strong women who only wanted to give one person at a time a dignifed death and has grown into a giant of our time. Yes heroes and saints among us, in the world. But if we stop for a moment and refelect I would bet we have herores and saints among us that the world may never know but are just as heoric never-the-less, and I would start with our very own families. I have a few I'd like to mention.
My Grandmother was born 1875. In 1889 she found herself in an arranged marriage and one year later she had her first child. Her first seven children died between birth and three years old, the next six lived. My grandfather was not a nice man an abuser and he died in his early fifties leaving his relatively young wife in poverty and a single mom. The poverty the family experienced was so intense that it could be prepared to a fire which left burning sensations all over the body. She once tried for public assistance and was told that the children could be sent to foster homes but that was all she could expect. She practically threw the social worker out and proceeded to keep her family together by cleaning offices while she was a janitor all for practically no salary to think of. Yet she kept her family together until they were old enough to chip in. Now I mean like my Uncle Rock who at seven delived groceries for a nickel a day and the girls who at 12 or so left school for a full time job. On top of all that she was a sickly women yet fought through it all for her family never railing at God, well maybe just once but He understood. She died in 1947 justly revered by her children and all the family. I wasn't the best of grandchildren but she inspired me and still does.
One of my cousins belongs to the greatest generation that Tom Brokaw always talks about. He's around Eighty-four now but when he was about nineteen he was in the middle of the Battle of The Bulge, one of the great turning points of WWII. All of a sudden all hell burst around him and bombs went off, bullets flew by and he got hit and was almost left for dead on the battlefield but was saved because one medic insisted that he be brought back to triage rather then the medic who was also hit. Peculiar, my cousin never knew the man's name who saved him but he'll never forget him. My cousin took a year to come back to health,after much rehab and surgery. He was left with two bullets next to his heart that couldn't be removed, if they were to move the wrong way he'd drop dead. He had schrapnel throughout his body and still does. Yet he lived and still does live a very productive life. He still experiences much pain but you'd never know it since he always has a smile and looks to help who he can never forgetting that God and that medic gave him another chance and he's got to use it well or else it would be a waste.
A slightly different story about a cousin of mine who gains my admiration because he gave up something he wanted badly for something he considered to be of greater value. He was a baseball player who was picked up for a modest sum, this was before the bonus baby thing. Now those of us who ever played the game think, as we watch the game being played, that we can do what the ballplayers are doing but we can't, only the cream rises to the top and only the creme de la creme get to the majors. Keep in mind those who play in the minors are still the cream of the crop, the pyramid gets narrow at the top. So this cousin was one of the cream yet he found himself perhaps not being recognized and the alternative was to go from town to town yet keeping in baseball. I want to remind you Buck Showalter, the ex Yank Manager and present Baltimore Oriel's manager never made the big leagues as a player and spent seventeen years in the minors a tough life on wives and families. But these guys were following their dreams. You have to be somewhat selfish to do this, yet it is a dream realized, hard to give up. Well this cousin of mine, decided to give it up because he didn't want to do what Bucky Showalter did and become a baseball bum. Along the way he met a girl fell in love and realized to be a father and a husband his dream had to take a backseat to his greater dream of living a good life with the girl he loved. The decision to chuck it all coming from a guy with all that talent took a lot of guts. I'm not sure I could have done that. Oh and by the way for any of you oldtimers, he played a bit with the Bushwicks at Dexter Park, a damn good semi-pro team that might of been classified as high minors. At times while being hard to give up dreams, it is necessary to scale even bigger heights.
I guess we really don't need headlines to find heroes and saints all we have to do is look around us.
My Grandmother was born 1875. In 1889 she found herself in an arranged marriage and one year later she had her first child. Her first seven children died between birth and three years old, the next six lived. My grandfather was not a nice man an abuser and he died in his early fifties leaving his relatively young wife in poverty and a single mom. The poverty the family experienced was so intense that it could be prepared to a fire which left burning sensations all over the body. She once tried for public assistance and was told that the children could be sent to foster homes but that was all she could expect. She practically threw the social worker out and proceeded to keep her family together by cleaning offices while she was a janitor all for practically no salary to think of. Yet she kept her family together until they were old enough to chip in. Now I mean like my Uncle Rock who at seven delived groceries for a nickel a day and the girls who at 12 or so left school for a full time job. On top of all that she was a sickly women yet fought through it all for her family never railing at God, well maybe just once but He understood. She died in 1947 justly revered by her children and all the family. I wasn't the best of grandchildren but she inspired me and still does.
One of my cousins belongs to the greatest generation that Tom Brokaw always talks about. He's around Eighty-four now but when he was about nineteen he was in the middle of the Battle of The Bulge, one of the great turning points of WWII. All of a sudden all hell burst around him and bombs went off, bullets flew by and he got hit and was almost left for dead on the battlefield but was saved because one medic insisted that he be brought back to triage rather then the medic who was also hit. Peculiar, my cousin never knew the man's name who saved him but he'll never forget him. My cousin took a year to come back to health,after much rehab and surgery. He was left with two bullets next to his heart that couldn't be removed, if they were to move the wrong way he'd drop dead. He had schrapnel throughout his body and still does. Yet he lived and still does live a very productive life. He still experiences much pain but you'd never know it since he always has a smile and looks to help who he can never forgetting that God and that medic gave him another chance and he's got to use it well or else it would be a waste.
A slightly different story about a cousin of mine who gains my admiration because he gave up something he wanted badly for something he considered to be of greater value. He was a baseball player who was picked up for a modest sum, this was before the bonus baby thing. Now those of us who ever played the game think, as we watch the game being played, that we can do what the ballplayers are doing but we can't, only the cream rises to the top and only the creme de la creme get to the majors. Keep in mind those who play in the minors are still the cream of the crop, the pyramid gets narrow at the top. So this cousin was one of the cream yet he found himself perhaps not being recognized and the alternative was to go from town to town yet keeping in baseball. I want to remind you Buck Showalter, the ex Yank Manager and present Baltimore Oriel's manager never made the big leagues as a player and spent seventeen years in the minors a tough life on wives and families. But these guys were following their dreams. You have to be somewhat selfish to do this, yet it is a dream realized, hard to give up. Well this cousin of mine, decided to give it up because he didn't want to do what Bucky Showalter did and become a baseball bum. Along the way he met a girl fell in love and realized to be a father and a husband his dream had to take a backseat to his greater dream of living a good life with the girl he loved. The decision to chuck it all coming from a guy with all that talent took a lot of guts. I'm not sure I could have done that. Oh and by the way for any of you oldtimers, he played a bit with the Bushwicks at Dexter Park, a damn good semi-pro team that might of been classified as high minors. At times while being hard to give up dreams, it is necessary to scale even bigger heights.
I guess we really don't need headlines to find heroes and saints all we have to do is look around us.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Is Music Important In your Life?
The earliest thing I can remember in my long life is hearing my family talking, loudly, laughing. loudly and in the background, music playing. I grew up with the radio always tuned on, except of course when my Uncle who lived with us and worked in night clubs, was in bed asleep. The minute he got up the radio was tuned into WNEW (in those days no AM or FM), Martin Block's "Make Believe Ballroom", twice a day, at night William B. Williams until midnight then Art Ford's "Milkman's Matinee". WINS had Jack Lacy, "Opus 1" was his theme song. Our house was filled with music from Benny Goodman, Woody Herman and Harry James and the vocalist were very young Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, Dick Haymes and Andy Russell who later became an icon in Mexico. Bing Crosby was the elder statesman and the arguments on the streets outside were about who was better Crosby or that skinny guy that the girls screamed over and fell down at his feet. Most of the guys were really jealous of Sinatra. On Saturday Texaco would bring the matinee performance of the Metropolitan Opera. I really didn't listen to all of it and made believe I didn't like it because all of my boy friends made fun of the Italians hitting the high notes, loudly, but I was really impressed with what I did hear. Yes we had the radio but we also had the Victrola. We could buy our vinyl 78 RPM records, handle them carefully or they'd break or scratch, and pile ten on a spindle and listen to our favorite music, vocalists, musicians. We learned to dance to our Victrolas playing our collections.
The best thing about our music is that it could lift you up or help you fall into the deepest of despair. Of course this is all different at different ages. During WW II just the sound of Glen Miller's band would send the rush of patriotism rushing through your veins. Sinatra's "The House I live In" focused a nation on brotherhood regardless of differences when a nation really didn't want to think of such things. When we were a little older and a love affair bit the dust, again Sinatra's groaning of "Set them up Joe...." only made us feel the loneliness of a young love grown old before its time. Yes the music followed us into the bars as we poured our quarters into the juke box to be elated or to drown our tears in our beers. Jackie Gleason's "Music For Lovers Only" with the hauntingly beautiful Trumpet of Bobby Hacket let many a couple taste the sweetness of a lovingly hungry kiss as they swayed on the dance floor. Yes music can lift your spirits to soaring and then help dash them upon the rocks of lost loves and desires. All this transmitted through the boxes we call radio, Victrolas and Juke Boxes. While it works its magic we can be whoever the music inspires us to be. Music is truly an artistic form and art can make us aware that greater things than only the mundane can be ours, transforming us into people we really want to be even, if only for a little while.
The best thing about our music is that it could lift you up or help you fall into the deepest of despair. Of course this is all different at different ages. During WW II just the sound of Glen Miller's band would send the rush of patriotism rushing through your veins. Sinatra's "The House I live In" focused a nation on brotherhood regardless of differences when a nation really didn't want to think of such things. When we were a little older and a love affair bit the dust, again Sinatra's groaning of "Set them up Joe...." only made us feel the loneliness of a young love grown old before its time. Yes the music followed us into the bars as we poured our quarters into the juke box to be elated or to drown our tears in our beers. Jackie Gleason's "Music For Lovers Only" with the hauntingly beautiful Trumpet of Bobby Hacket let many a couple taste the sweetness of a lovingly hungry kiss as they swayed on the dance floor. Yes music can lift your spirits to soaring and then help dash them upon the rocks of lost loves and desires. All this transmitted through the boxes we call radio, Victrolas and Juke Boxes. While it works its magic we can be whoever the music inspires us to be. Music is truly an artistic form and art can make us aware that greater things than only the mundane can be ours, transforming us into people we really want to be even, if only for a little while.
"On Listening When The Music Plays"
The Sax is soulful
The Trumpet Blares
Sound sucks me into the box with no face
Sound enters through head side holes
And looks out through head front holes
AND
All around all people see
The outside
Which isn't really me
Ain't music great!
Friday, September 3, 2010
Unconnected Random Thoughts
Just who the heck does BP think they're kidding? Their testimony sounds more like a threat. "Lift the moratorium on off shore drilling or we won't have enough money to fund the $20 Billion damages payout or have enough to restore the shore.". First of all I thought it took massive investments of cold hard cash that couldn't be recaptured until years after the project was started. Secondly, when they made the commitments to pay they never said they needed further drilling's to offset the payments. They would sell off assets and use their massive retained earnings. Watch our lawmakers accede to BP so that their campaign coffers can be filled. Again, screw the public!
How is it that Oil prices seem to fluctuate with our stock market? Commodities are strictly supply and demand, unless of course you manipulate the market. Which is precisely what OPEC does. So heating oil and gas goes up because the cost goes up or so says our Oil Companies. Yet our big oil companies make greater and greater profits. Economics 101 states that when costs go up they are passed on to the consumer and even if demand remains the same companies bottom line is unaffected. BUT, says Economics 101, when costs are passed on demand slackens resulting in corporate profits decreasing or even losses. So how come all our Big Oil Companies are making such fabulous profits? Could they be in cahoots with OPEC?
NAH! OR Screw the public AGAIN.
Happen to notice our working force returning from their labors the other day. Some of the guys had suits and ties but many were in jeans and sport shirts. Never happen back in the day. Too much pride. Too much dress code. BUT the ladies really amazed me. Many had flimsy outfits of halter like blouses and short skirts. Many wore no bras which was obvious when they started to run to catch a train. Most wore low cut bloused. Let it all hang out. OK if that's allowed. BUT why is it sexual harassment if some young stud stops, looks and gawks? Don't tell me the young ladies don't want to be ogled for if they did would they dress is such a manner, or are they unaware, or are they just teases, or do they just do what they want to do and the hell with the consequences? Just wondering.
Noticed a young fat lady dressed in the tightest fitting mini which showed every roll of fat on her body as she jiggled her way to the egress from the LIRR. Behind her was a young lady with the exact outfit but she was toned. Looking at the two I had to wonder if the stout, fat, girl ever looked in the mirror and saw herself or saw what she thought was she, a person who looked like the second girl? Somehow, dressing appropriately, to the occasion, to one's own body, physical makeup doesn't seem to enter the minds of many and it should because there is nothing wrong with being fat, let's say, just in making every one aware that you are. The thought should be to dress to look your very best. As they say, "the clothes make the woman.
Just some random unconnected thoughts.
How is it that Oil prices seem to fluctuate with our stock market? Commodities are strictly supply and demand, unless of course you manipulate the market. Which is precisely what OPEC does. So heating oil and gas goes up because the cost goes up or so says our Oil Companies. Yet our big oil companies make greater and greater profits. Economics 101 states that when costs go up they are passed on to the consumer and even if demand remains the same companies bottom line is unaffected. BUT, says Economics 101, when costs are passed on demand slackens resulting in corporate profits decreasing or even losses. So how come all our Big Oil Companies are making such fabulous profits? Could they be in cahoots with OPEC?
NAH! OR Screw the public AGAIN.
Happen to notice our working force returning from their labors the other day. Some of the guys had suits and ties but many were in jeans and sport shirts. Never happen back in the day. Too much pride. Too much dress code. BUT the ladies really amazed me. Many had flimsy outfits of halter like blouses and short skirts. Many wore no bras which was obvious when they started to run to catch a train. Most wore low cut bloused. Let it all hang out. OK if that's allowed. BUT why is it sexual harassment if some young stud stops, looks and gawks? Don't tell me the young ladies don't want to be ogled for if they did would they dress is such a manner, or are they unaware, or are they just teases, or do they just do what they want to do and the hell with the consequences? Just wondering.
Noticed a young fat lady dressed in the tightest fitting mini which showed every roll of fat on her body as she jiggled her way to the egress from the LIRR. Behind her was a young lady with the exact outfit but she was toned. Looking at the two I had to wonder if the stout, fat, girl ever looked in the mirror and saw herself or saw what she thought was she, a person who looked like the second girl? Somehow, dressing appropriately, to the occasion, to one's own body, physical makeup doesn't seem to enter the minds of many and it should because there is nothing wrong with being fat, let's say, just in making every one aware that you are. The thought should be to dress to look your very best. As they say, "the clothes make the woman.
Just some random unconnected thoughts.
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