tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87522949233427835192024-03-19T20:25:15.930-07:00The Arizona PenguinJIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.comBlogger74125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-51728667123941548112013-01-19T11:24:00.000-07:002013-01-19T16:24:12.134-07:00Love<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I have been thinking the term 'Love" is overused and often out of place. I began thinking about this while reading a relatively poor Christmas letter received from a fellow who was a friend, once upon a time. I haven't seen him in about eight years and back prior to this, if I did see him by accident, he would always say,"We'll have to have you over for dinner some night". I long ago gave up on that invitation (?) knowing it was a gesture meaning absolutely nothing. I guess he meant well. Louise had passed away, but it would have been better left unsaid--just like the term "Love". That was how he signed his annual Christmas letter. Why? He doesn't love me. If he had not written an additional note on the back of the letter, it may well have been that I happened to still be on the list of his friends but, why would he sign it "Love"? I doubt that he even remembers who I am! However he is not alone in that incorrect manner of any farewell. Many people say it when they part from an enjoyable dinner party or possibly a movie. Are they serious? I don't think so. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"> People hang up their phones with "love ya". Again I ask, are they serious? I have a new friend that is from my high school years and we have just re-connected. I am delighted to know her and to Email her or such but I don't sign my Emails "Love", nor does she, nor should we. We don't love each other no matter how happy we are discover each other after these many years. I will continue our correspondence, may they be by phone, letter or Email but I guarantee, it will take me a long time to sign off with "Love". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"> To me, that term should be used by actual family members or close friends of many years. It is not to be thrown out as though people can't think of another word to indicate there is a parting of two or more persons. While I might be able to accept this parting expression from one woman to another provided I know they have been good friends for a long time, I would be hard pressed to think a man would say it to another. And yet the person mentioned above said it me. Balderdash!!! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;"> There are other words to be used as a substitute. How about Fondly? Affectionately? "See you" Yours!There are many ways of saying farewell without verbal posturing. Maybe you are the type that says love without any meaning except as a good by. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings but you are short in your vocabulary if you can't find other ways to leave a friend. I never hear my sons say "Love" to a brother and don't think I ever will except possibly (God forbid) a funeral. Think about it and lets hear a new phrase, like, well, so long!</span>JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-59112608912060052502013-01-06T10:36:00.000-07:002013-01-15T14:00:22.360-07:00Annie <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a bright day in my life that day I first met Annie. My friend Nick and I were at our club after playing tennis and decided we would walk the track for a while. A couple of ladies were already walking, one slower than the other and as we would catch up to one or the other, we would exchange greetings or comments. One thing led to the other and Nick being the most friendly would get the names of these two who turned out to be sisters. Nick, always the jokester would have them laughing as we passed by. We found out that the slower one was Ruth and shorter one was Annie. Her pace, walking the track was at least twice the speed that Nick and I maintained. She was possibly five foot tall, if that, with foot speed to match a wide receiver. She could really pick them up and lay them down. As weeks passed, this friendship grew and we would go to breakfast together on occasion or possibly go to their home for lunch. It turned out they lived together and set a table of corned beef or pastrami for Nick and me and it was a nice friendship.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Then Ruth was rushed home from Palm Springs with a illness that shortly thereafter, took her life. Annie was terribly distraught and Nick and I wanted to lend our support as best we could and went to the Shiva held at Annie's home. I let her grieve for a few weeks before contacting her and invited her to go out for coffee so she, in some way, could, at least, get out of the house. I'm sure she felt depressed at the loss of her best friend and I hoped to lend some consolation and lift her spirits. She accepted my invitation and before long I asked if she would like to go out to a movie or to dinner and one night she confided in me that she had not gone out on a date in the 18 years since her husband died. Some may have stated we were a strange couple, -a Mormon and a Jew, but we enjoyed each other and our friendship became warm and close. I think Anne was about 75 when all this took place but for those 20 years I considered her one of my best friends. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">It was a sad day when I made my decision to move to Arizona. I was going to miss many friends but my affection for Nick and Annie topped them all. I went back to see her last summer and she still was strong and warm but age was beginning to take its toll. She greeted me at the door of her home with the help of a 'walker' still smiling with a welcoming handshake. I miss Annie now. She was always one in whom I could find a smile and bright eyes. Life does not offer us many friendships and those that I have garnered I have treasured. Of those treasures Annie stands as one of the brightest. In my mind I can still her short legs churning around the track faster than a speeding bullet with a smile to match. I look forward to my summer visit to once again be charmed by her warmth and friendliness. And as a famous comedian used to say Annie, "You are the greatest!"</span><br />
JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-69850363875236226722012-11-24T09:46:00.000-07:002012-11-24T09:46:23.720-07:00My First Bivouac<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">First off, I am not sure of the spelling of my title word; Bivouac. I didn't know what it was back then in 1943 and I don't know now. O.K. Spelling used to be one of my strong points but maybe not now. I was being educated and subjected to all forms of exercise. It was in one of the great schools and one of the most beautiful sites in America and I was there courtesy of Uncle Sam. I was a Naval Cadet at Chapel Hill N.C. Part of the exercise program was to rise at 6:00 A.M., dash to the exercise field, grunt and groan for an hour and at 7:30, dash to the breakfast building hurry to an 8:00 class. My education included, Navigation, Stars and Constellations, Math and Recognition (planes and ships) and the Morse code. I still remember SOS. All of this is just an introduction to what I want to tell you about.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">For some unknown reason I was told I had been chosen, along with 49 other Cadets to go on the above. And the time arrived and the 50 of us were boarded into busses and were driven about 30 miles from the school. We unloaded and each of us was given a compass and told we were to head 120 degrees East and there we would find our main camp where food and sleeping bags would be given us. We all started by pairing up with a buddy and then beginning our trek to the camp. You can imagine it is now about 5:30 and hunger pangs have already set in. Adding to our discomfort, it begins to rain; not a downpour but a steady light rain and it wasn't long before we were very wet. Most of this was from fording creeks and tall, wet grasses. Oh yes, the temperature had also plummeted to about 38 degrees. It took about 2 hours of this adventure and we arrived, staggered might be a better word, into camp. I can't speak for the other men, but I was wet and tired. Food was not that important. I got my sleeping bag, dropped my wet clothing on the ground and crawled into the bag. After shivering for at least an hour, I finally fell asleep and awoke to a grey dawn and found my clothes had all frozen during the night. Forcing my legs into my pants, ice chips falling to the ground, my clothing gradually began to thaw. Of course there was no hot water to either wash or shave but we did what we could to become somewhat presentable, finished eating and were now off on another hike although by this time the temperature was beginning to get into the 40s, and life was almost liveable. As we hiked we were showed roots that were edible, mushrooms that weren't, along with ways we might be able to sustain life if that ever were to be necessary, The days were quite nice but the next 3 nights were miserable. It was darned cold for the Carolinas and our leaders kept telling us that. Sure! I had paired up with a fellow who was about 6'2 and at night he and I would take turns throwing our legs over the other to try to stay warm. Yes, we were in separate sleeping bags. That's about the end of my story except after a day following our return (in the same busses) we, who had remained alive were told we could have a 30 day leave to go home for Christmas. See, the Navy has a heart after all and I spent those 30 days with Louise and then Louise and oh yes, my parents. It was a great reward for my misery. I think I'd do it again if the reward was the same.</span> JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-16952139676965113752012-11-24T09:38:00.000-07:002012-11-24T09:38:40.860-07:00A Buyer of Boyswear<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">Many, many years ago I had been talked into leaving the University of Buffalo and was immediately signed as an assistant in the Menswear department--but that's a story already told and is no longer news to any except new readers and they will have to suffer for missing my ramblings of the past. However, maybe they can catch a glimpse of my retail past by reading what follows.While busy in the men's department I received a call to go and see Craig Larkin, then the Merchandise Manager of the 3rd floor; made up mostly of Infants clothing, some young women's wear and the Boys Department. I wondered what he wanted? Anyway being a dutiful young man, who was also curious, I hurried to his office and was asked to sit down. He then proceeded to tell me he would like to employ me as the Buyer of the Boys department? This was quite a surprise. I had only served in the Men's operation for 6 months and was still learning that area. However, this offer included a $10.00 raise to the munificent sum total of $55.00--WOW!! How could I resist? So on the morning of June 2nd of 1947 I entered the Department early and greeted each of the employees as they arrived. I introduced myself and as they all gathered, I went on to have a meeting. I don't remember what I said except I was well received as the previous buyer, Mr J, turned out to have a problem with strong spirits and was often absent, causing an ongoing concern for the others who were trying to run things.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">And so my retailing really began! I bought not only the normal things which I had previously become accustomed to, with the exception that the customers were all much smaller. This would be my first experience buying suits for Boys sizes went up to size 20 which in Men's sizing was a size 39. I could wear a 39 in those days --a lot has changed since then, and my wardrobe improved substantially at Boys prices, plus a special price from the manufacturers who were trying to stay in my good graces.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">I think my first suit cost me $18.00 and I remember it as a brown plaid which I thought was quite handsome. There were other items I could purchase such as sox, ties, shirts and so on and my prices were all substantially less than I had been paying in the Men's department. At $28,00 annually, things were looking up. At 24 I was the youngest buyer in the store and here I must brag a bit. From a close friend, Walter, who was the assistant to the stores president, Albin Holder, and who was in a position to know and called me into his office one day and congratulated me on being # 1 in all of Associated stores. Our store, JN Adams, was 1 of about 11 other retail department stores scattered across the U.S. and I had completed my first full year buying for the Boys Department and this was quite exciting to know I had managed to top the other Boyswear Buyers in our parent organization. I went on for 4 more years and then was given the job of buying the Men's department and my salary over the years was now $9,000 annually and while that was much more than my first job at $45.00 a week and although I never reached the salary that I should have had, I had, in affect, risen through the ranks and I didn't argue the point. I had achieved a reputation of having the best Menswear operation in the city. The challenges of buying any department are many and I was successful in each that I had been responsible for. The store closed in January 1959. I had been working there for 13 years and starting from a part time employee I was now ready to take a new job and continue in the retail business. I had loved my jobs there and new opportunities were opening up and I was ready!! Subsequently, I interviewed at several major stores across the country including Lord and Taylor, Stewarts of Baltimore and other stores in Cleveland, Rochester, Omaha and was offered a job in all of the above. I was a retail buyer and proud of my name and reputation in the menswear industry.</span>JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-31913152061958819822012-09-10T05:41:00.000-07:002012-09-10T05:41:00.950-07:00Bull DurhamIt seems rediculous to have a need for a dentist inasmuch as I sport dentures top and bottom, nevertheless thats where I was one Saturday morning seeking relief from the rubbing that was taking place as a result of some repair work. Usually they take me right in and I'm out of there quickly. For some reason there was a delay and I picked up a Sports Illustrated . I was going through the pages looking for anyting that looked readable and suddenly there was a review on one of my favorite movies I had seen 6 or 7 times in the past. Now I am a baseball nut and while I deny ever going to a R rated movie I must admit that I weaken my resolve if its about baseball. Bull Durham, a movie from 1988 caught my eye. I loved that movie and was now reading about the characters; Kevin Costner, playing the part of Crash Davis, a, somewhat over the hill, catcher, while the love interest was played by Susan Sarandon. The comic character was played by Tim Robbins, a gangling young pitcher who was also trying to make out with the above. I won't go into the story as it played out because the unique part of this tale is that I swiped the book and took it home with me. I finished reading the various bios, where they were and what their life has been since the movie and turned on the TV which is rare for me on any afternoon. I don't watch TV during the day. The first thing to catch my eye was, yes, you guessed it, Bull Durham and yes, I began watching for the 8th time. I loved it! I loved the interaction between Crash and the Tim Robbins role-the wisdom of the catcher trying to teach the wild young pitcher, with all the humor that was a part of their relationship. Now why would I take such an interest in something of this nature when I had seen it several times and could now almost say the dialogue. Call it memories of my youth and my enjoyment of playing the game-nostalga, humor, I don't know but it was about baseball and while it violated my decision about what kind of movies I go to, I was trapped for all of the above reasons. The language was bad, although part of the baseball scene. The sex was almost invisible but also part of relationships, and I was weak. I noted in new coming attractions there is a baseball movie coming out soon and it looks interesting. Will I go to see it? Will I again, break my resolve? Probably! Bad habits are difficult to break.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-2404641453261856342012-09-08T16:56:00.000-07:002012-09-08T16:56:16.059-07:00My Golf LifeI was just watching a movie of the golf life of Bobby Jones possibly the greatest golfer that ever lived. I say that knowing that anyone that knows anything about golf is going to snicker. However the golfers of today are amazing but maybe not. When you think that in most of Jones' tournaments, he played with mashies and niblicks and ancient clubs of that long ago time frame and I defy any of todays golfers, as great as they are, using much, much better clubs and even tremendously better balls to do what he did back in the twenties.To bring to a close my talking about Bobby Jones, I want to talk about me. I just love talking about me. Ahem!<br />
Continuing, my Syracuse family which consisted of John Dodd and Kitty North Dodd had moved into the country, living on Thompson Road on a one acre plot with a small creek that formed the typical old fashioned farm swimming hole. I was 12 or 13 at the time. But enough of that; back to my golf. About a quarter of a mile up the road from our house was a golf course and I thought maybe I could earn a dollar or two by becoming a caddy. Uncle Chuck, in the times I went with him to a golf course, had taught me a little of the nicieties of the game and so I faked my way into the good graces of the owner and became one of, maybe, two other caddies. This was a public course and most people, during those depressed years, couldn't afford to pay for a caddie. So there was limited number of players willing to pay me the .75 it cost for me to caddie. Yes I said .75 for that was the going rate I earned, although every once in a while some magnaminous player gave me a "Buck" saying "keep the change, son" Wow a buck?! That was a lot in those days. However, the main reason I caddied was they let all caddies play on Mondays for free and me and the Thornton brothers played 54 holes every Monday carrying 3 clubs and a putter in our hands and several broken tees in our pocket along with a few marred and cut golf balls. We played from 6:00A.M. until supper time when we would run home so as not to miss dinner. That was the beginning of my golf life. From that point I acquired some real clubs (Gift from Louise) and began to play in earnest. Back in Buffalo N.Y. I used to rise at 4:30 on Saturday mornings to get to the course by 5:30 and there, many times we teed off in the dark, guessing how well we had hit our ball and watching the sun begin to rise as we reached the first green. I have played, literally, all over these United States because working the last half of my career, I worked for a golf clothing manufacturer and did a lot of traveling, which resulted in many games somewhere in those travels. I played in Japan, and Taipan when travelling abroad. Did I ever become good? No, I rose to the height of mediocrity but the love of the game kept me going. My three sons all play and all can beat me, although that's not saying much. However, I have a lot of good memories of good places along with those of the "Dawn Patrol". I'm happy that I could make many friends, see many lovely courses and enjoy the many days of happiness I found there. My life as a golfer was a good one and I'm happy that was one of an my enduring hobbies.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-82960606542961840842012-08-21T10:45:00.001-07:002012-09-08T17:04:00.132-07:00Uncle ChuckThis is not the first time I have written about my Uncle Chuck but I want to delineate a larger picture of what he represented in my life. First of all let me say he was the ultimate example of what a young boy wants as an uncle. He was an outdoorsman and spent every Sunday doing something relating to an out door activity: fishing, golfing, digging potatoes, picking peaches. You get the idea. He would find something to do in the wide open spaces of nearby Syracuse, N.Y. And in those weeks or months that I was not in school. I was living in Syracuse at the home of my Grandparents and Aunt and Uncle. It was here where I grew to love all those things that Chuck was wont to do and every Sunday morning I was awakened to the words "C'mon Jim, lets go!"A quick breakfast and off we would go to pick those early morning mushrooms. Anybody who knows anything about mushrooms knows that the morning is when they are freshest and most delicious. Of course I knew that because my Uncle Chuck told me so. I also didn't really care for them but when my Aunt Alice cooked them, they were the best!! I also would go golfing with Charlie--I wouldn't play except he would allow me an occasional swing at the ball just to keep me, his caddie, interested. I later became an average golfer who grew to love the game. I recall one day Charlie took a monstrous swing at the ball only to find himself on his butt and the ball not far off. I spoke quickly "Hurry and get up Chuck, no one is looking". He laughed for many years about that. I guess I was the only one embarrassed by his fall. I could go on a long time about my years as a young boy but time kept moving and I was soon involved with a couple of the other gender and was in High School and didn't get back to be with my Uncle Chuck any more; times change and so do our priorities. However before I get to far ahead of my self I must tell you of the magic of his under ground garage. In it dwelled about a billion earth worms. There was a coffin-like box in which the worms continued to breed and multiply and were always available for our sorties off on a lake somewhere. I had a mixture of fear and forboding in that darkened room, mixed with the excitement of pulling up a hand full of worms. Remember I was still a boy and a hand full of night crawlers was exciting. I also must tell you of the injustice of the military. Chuck was drafted at age 39, but when in France became the cook of his group and would scrounge the earth, the woods, the fields for food to cook. He could always improve the food and his group of men loved him. It was the later years where I am now a Father and Husband that I was able to, once again, make contact with my Uncle Chuck. He was living in a trailer near one of Great Lakes of New York State and I had taken a job in New York about 150 miles from where Charlie was living. I used to drive up on various week-ends to visit with him. We didn't do much except talk about those experiences in which we were both involved, go to dinner and retire for the night. As much as I wanted to, it was at those partings that I wanted to tell him what he had meant to the little boy of long ago. The words would never come out but I recall one time he whispered so softly I could just barely hear the words. The last thing he said as I drove away and it was the last time I would see him, he said "You are the greatest nephew a guy could ever have". I was in tears for the next many miles, all the time thinking "No Chuck, it was you who made my boyhood one of wonder, excitement and an unspoken love". I'm really looking forward to the time in the next chapter, when my tongue will be unleashed and I can sit down and tell Charlie how much he meant to me in those earlier years and who knows maybe we can go fishing again.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-52709355329176736232012-07-05T17:28:00.001-07:002012-07-05T17:28:25.544-07:00My DadSome of you may recall that in the past I was the chief cook and bottle washer of a small group of our church members which we lovingly call “The Twig”. Why? Because its smaller than a Branch. I suspect only other members of my faith will understand those titles but suffice it to say it is only a means of reference. Although I am no longer the head liaison to our local body of church members I had volunteered to speak at the weekly service of this “Twig” and inasmuch as it was Fathers day Sunday, I decided to speak about my Father. In most, if not all, of my meanderings through my history, I don’t remember ever saying much about this man and it now seems like a good time to extol his characteristics-good or, possibly, bad.<br />
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My early remembrances of my Dad were only a few: first he was funny, made faces and tap danced for his two small sons, Jack, my older brother and me. I also vaguely recall driving down a street that was to become my home for several years. Warwick Avenue was, at that time, a mass of mud ruts and I suspect I was no more than three but the ruts were sufficient to make them remembered. I only mention this because it was one of my first impressions of my Father. It was the late twenties and the Great Depression had not yet arrived with a vengeance. It was several years later that Dad began to make an impression on me and these impressions are brighter now than they were then but only because nostalgia has a way of brightening and elaborating that which is past.<br />
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I learned later Dad was an Eagle scout, won a bugler contest in the city of Buffalo N.Y.--our home town. He also had started driving a motorcycle when he was 15 and living in Rochester N.Y. although he was courting my Mom who lived in Syracuse. I never did know how they got together considering the distance apart, but get together they did and Dad became “Wonder Dad”. Why? Because he could do anything---anything! In our new home, he became an electrician, a carpenter, plumber, seamstress, yes, seamstress, musician and of course the wage earner. I came to appreciate some of the above when I purchased my first home and therein lies another recollection of Dad. My new home required a storm door on the side and I went to the lumber yard, bought a door, planed it to fit, added the paint and hinges and voila a job well done--I thought. Mom and Dad came over the next day and in my pride of doing this work, I asked for Dad’s opinion--a mistake. He said I should have had the door open into the prevailing winds. When I explained I had done so we couldn’t agree on which was East and which was West. When I pointed out that the sun was setting, which should have been sufficient to convince my Father, he stated, with authority, “I don’t care what the sun is doing, that’s the West”. Thus a look at my Dad’s stubbornness! <br />
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I was the despair of my father. Here was a man that could do anything and a son who could do nothing. Thus he dubbed me with the sobriquet “Handy Andy” because I wasn’t! There was very little I could do to impress Dad and during those early years I became aware of my lack of talent. I played a little piano, clarinet and fife, none of which were sufficient to make an impression. I did find that I could sing a little but at a Boy Scout evening, I unfortunately, butchered a song, to the dismay of my Dad, who had managed to attend one of the few things in which he had ever witnessed me take part. Another disappointment! The Depression had now become serious in our lives and Dad was striving to keep our financial heads above water. Kids weren’t aware of things like that but I remember losing our home on Warwick Avenue. This had a big affect on my life. I never understood why we lost our house. Dad had a job as an automobile mechanic, shop manager and an occasional gig with a dance band in which he played. This was substantially more than many others had and I was always mystified why this took place but we got along in a three bedroom “flat” with Burt and I sharing a bed. <br />
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I began High School at age 12 and took 5 years to graduate. The News carried a lot about the war which had begun in Europe. Jobs were more available. I was going from one job to another. As I had said, I never did anything to impress Dad. I never heard him say I love you and I say this without grievance. I loved my Father and knew he loved me. He just didn’t know how to make the words and this is a failure I have had in my life. However, he became very proud as I entered the Navy. The war was peaking and America had become a hot bed of munitions work. It was then that Dad had a very serious heart attack. I was away and never knew how debilitating his condition became. I learned in later years, he rarely left his bedroom and while he had previously had a good social life with my Mom, now would not speak to or see any of his old friends. He took up photography as a hobby and that helped with his daily activities. He no longer could work outside the home and for a while even lived in the basement of my in-laws nearby. I don’t know how they survived with no income and no friends. During the war, he bought a motorcycle to use for transportation and he and Mom got along, with her riding in back and in winter months in a sidecar. He managed to take many pictures of me in uniform and again, nothing was ever mentioned about his pride in me because I had now become an officer. That wasn’t part of Dad’s make up. But, I knew he was greatly impressed with me being a pilot, Jack working for the government in war related jobs and my younger brother, Burt, now also in the Navy. They now had two stars to display in our windows. I recall, at a base in Schenectady, a group of us were hanging out when someone mentioned an old couple coming down the street on a motorcycle. I looked and replied, ”That’s no old couple that’s my Mom and Pop.” They had driven from Buffalo to my Naval base to see me- a distance of some 200 miles and I was very happy to see them. I also remember, with great clarity, coming home on leave late one night, entering my parents room and speaking quietly to my Mom when Dad awoke, instinctively grabbing and hugging me fiercely. It was the only act of love from my Father I can ever recall. Again this is not mentioned with any form of grievance but I have often become very emotional with this remembrance. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Soon, life began to return to normal. All three of his boys were now home safe and sound. Dad had purchased an old 1928 junker for Louise and I to have wheels while he continued with the cycle. Some of his personality returned with the arrival of my two daughters and he loved spending time with them and, again, using his hobby to take pictures of my kids and then Burt’s kids. I was attending school, although my job in the department store began to demand more of my time, and I became, first, an assistant buyer and then soon after a buyer. I know Dad’s life had become more full with the knowledge his family was surviving and growing. I had taken a new job in Wisconsin when the news came that Dad passed away. He had suffered an aneurism on the aorta and quickly bled to death. I was in shock. Here was a man of whom I had relatively little knowledge and I would never learn much about him. The Depression years, school activities, my years in the Navy and those when I became very involved with my own family and my career had deprived me of that knowledge. But still, my recall, in retrospect of Dad leaves me with a warm feeling that although I wish I had been more involved with knowing who he was, what he did, where and what his activities were about, I knew my Father was a good man, one who loved his family and even more, a man who loved my Mom. I know there will be a time when he and I will recall the memories that were a part of our former years and I’m looking forward to seeing Dad and the rest of my family in that life to come. <br />
<br />JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-62711745314464829882012-04-03T11:02:00.002-07:002012-04-03T11:02:58.053-07:00My Emotions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 16px;">There is no question about it. I am worse now than I ever been when it comes to shedding tears, I don't know what it's all about. All I know is that as I have become older everything seems to touch an emtional nerve that leaves me teary eyed and wondering why at times. It doesn't seem to matter the subject except if there is any moral to a given subject, TV program, commercials or any wise and meaningful thought, I'm an emotional wreck! Don't show me a dog limping. Don't show me a child that is sick. Moreover, don't show me a happy family. I can't take it.I know it has to be my advanced age because there is nothing else it could be. But why? Nearer to the end of life? Nearer to the judgement seat and all I must reveal? That's an interesting thought. Maybe it is merely that I have become more tender and things take on a deeper meaning than before. But whatever it might be, don't say anything nice about me to my face. Don't even hint that I am a good person. Don't even tell me about how nice one or all of my kids might be. I will respond with welled up tears and a throat that is so choked up that I can't speak. So, be aware that you might be the reason I am emtional when you look at me with loving thoughts. Sorry but I am what I am and at this time in my life all of the above is true and self defeating. I tell people that now that I am 89, I am going on 90. It's a fact.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 16px;"><var></var></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: 'times new roman', 'new york', times, serif; font-size: 16px;"> I am going there. Whether I make it or not, I can at least say, I am going there and at this age I'm entitled to shed a tear if I feel like it. So there!</span>JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-49748852130466956612012-02-26T12:15:00.002-07:002012-02-26T12:15:42.734-07:00Connie<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">She was a waif of a child when she arrived in the states from Spain. Living in Brooklyn for most of her younger years, the new language came easily and there was never a shred of Spanish as the years grew. Her Father was a craftsman and earned a living for his family by working with his hands. I have heard many time of his talents and industry but her Mother was well known and appreciated by those that knew her; Baba was the example of the work ethic that made the early immigants well known. She never shirked a job others never noticed. I didn't know her well but well enough to appreciate her willingness, no, her desire to help, wherever it was needed. Connie grew with those habits ingrained and in many way she was like her Mother. Lets say she was a modern Baba who fit into any place she desired to be. Connie and Marty were married at a pretty early age and like Connie, Marty was just as motivated and industrious as was most children of the earlier nationalities that came to this country in the early 20's. He was a small child that arrived from Scotland. How two, as apparently dissimilar, as were those two, got together is mystery I am not privy to, But get together they did, added three to their family and went about with Marty spending over 40 years with General Mills, changing over to Hunt industries long enough to acquire a pension to go along with one from his first job.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif; font-size: large;">But this tribute is for Connie and I long ago wrote of Marty at the time of his death. Connie passed away today after defying the Doctors who had predicted she would pass away soon after she took a fall and spent almost 4 weeks of hanging in there with a heart and lungs that wouldn't give up. I first got to know Connie when my wife was to take my two girls and and a 6 month old Christopher to Utah to place the girls in school. Connie, in her positive way, refused to allow Louise to drive there unaccompanied with no one to care for Chris. Who is this person I remember asking myself? I found she and Louise had become friends after an all girls luncheon, with Connie coming to visit regularly so as to make Louise, a Mormon girl, make coffee during her visits. That trip took on even greater importance when they were snowed on September 9, in Rawlins Wy. and it took 3 days there before the plows could open the road. As time progressed and Connie became one my closest friends. I was so grateful to this 60 inch dynamo for staying with Louise and caring for Chris' dirty diapers and all else. This is a great example of Connie's unselfishness and dedication to a necessary job. This, more than anything else exemplyfies who she was - a strong personality who wouldn't back away from where she saw work. We became very close to Marty and Connie. Marty passed away about 17 years ago. Connie passed away this morning almost blind from Macular Degeneration but still indomintable but yearning to join her beloved Marty. I have spoken to her many times through these years and we always ended with the words "I love you" and I did. She will always be one of the great spirits that has touched me for good and I am a better person for having known Connie-- my friend.</span>JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-83095962151154897562012-02-21T11:43:00.000-07:002013-01-06T08:23:11.284-07:00Warmer Than a Handshake<br />
It was a blustery winter day in February that I set out to make what was to become a yearly event to upper northeast New York State. My boss, Lloyd, was with me and this was my first buying trip to the glove center of the country. While there were many women's gloves imported from Italy, men's gloves were still primarily made in the Twin Cities of Johnstown and Gloversville and Lloyd was showing me how it was done. It was always a pleasant event going from this manufacturer to another over the course of the day. We were to spend 2 full days there viewing the various gloves made by the several businesses. Most of the companies welcomed the opportunity to let us take several samples back to our hotel room where we would spend two full nights poring over the way gloves were made and which ones would fit our buying budget. While it was somewhat laborious, it was my first trip and I found it very interesting, We would spend the two nights writing the styles down and then as another sample showed more promise, cross off the first and in this way gradually reduce maybe 50 samples to the 6 or 8 we would actually plan to purchase. I learned which were pigskin and which were cape -skin (Lamb) and the various grades and appearance of each; which were hand sewn as compared to machine sewn and other interesting facts about gloves. Ultimately we would arrive at a given number of which to buy and which to eliminate from our buying plan. I would make this trip and go through a similar process for several years following this first trip. I was the buyer of menswear in a department store for seven years before the store would close and I was to be employed by another retail department store in another city. But that is story to be told at another time.<br />
<br />
The gloves purchased would begin arriving at my store in September and we would begin advertising them as the weeks passed by. As the buyer, I would supply the advertising department with necessary 'copy' so they could smooth it out for the buying public. One time I wrote my copy and used as a headline "warmer than a handshake". It was used in that manner in the paper and some years later, long after I had left the retail field, I saw that line used by another department store trying to sell gloves. That made me feel good that some one else felt it was an appropriate line to be used in advertising gloves. Small achievements are food for memories. I enjoyed those trips very much and although I worked far into the night making my decisions they were memories I had long ago forgotten until I happened to pull an old pair of gloves from a rarely used drawer. Thus are memories rekindled and brought back to mind and although it has been many years since that first trip, it was a small voyage into new learnings that even today, with this writing I have remembered a peccary pigskin from a sueded capeskin. Not only are my hands warmed by this look at the past but so is my heart and mind as well.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-755584604956663762012-02-21T11:36:00.001-07:002012-02-21T11:36:51.722-07:00My Quest<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">It is quite well known amongst my close friends and family that I am a
diabetic. Oh I don't advertise it but when I deny myself eating a large
beautiful piece of pie, people look and usually understand. Do I weaken
once in a while? Oh yes! But in general, having seen some with amputated
feet or legs, it is sufficient for me to resist. However when it comes
to chocolate it is very trying to curb my temptation. I have done some
traveling in my business days, most to the Orient where acquiring
chocolate is a problem. Japan, forget it. Those guys would insist I eat
sweetened grasshoppers when they are "in season". Ugh! I remembered
Korea was the next country I was to visit and I figured maybe there?
Well, I was right. In the basement of the hotel I stayed at was a kind
of a Army PX store and it had fun sized Milky Ways. Oh I forgot to tell I
am also cheap. When I would bring candy home to Louise, she would
always take the good stuff knowing I didn't care as long as mine was
chocolate. Before I get back to Korea I must admit that there were days
when I would get desperate enough to eat Bakers cooking
chocolate and think it was wonderful. Now you must admit that is pretty
bad, but, I needed a "fix". </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, returning to Korea, the basement store and
the Milky Ways, they were available in the States for about $2.49 but
those bandits wanted $3.95 for a bag and I just wouldn't
permit my cheapness to pay that inflated price-never mind they had to
fly it in from the U.S. and there were transportation costs involved.
Don't confuse me with the facts The price was exorbitant and I just bore
up with the strain of temptation. But now we head for Hong Kong and I was on the shuttle boat from Hong Kong Island to Kowloon and decided that I would visit a market place at the head of the incoming boat dock. Lo and behold!
What did I see? A big sign saying "See's Candies" Eureka! I'm saved. I
went in and must admit I went overboard but can you blame me? Two
countries I had visited with no success, but I might have guessed the
Brits, who at that time still owned that piece of China, liked their
chocolate too.</span></div>
<div align="justify">
</div>
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><div align="justify">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, I vowed never to be caught in that situation
again and began to set my thoughts in motion and think I have a
solution. Its a bit weird but it works. I have used Chocolate syrup in
milk. I have used powdered Slim Fast in water as advised and that is now
my solution. I carry Hershey's Chocolate syrup with me in
my travels. If I stay in a hotel,- no problem. I call down for some ice
and proceed to mix up a glass full of ice and water--in a home, there is
always a bathroom handy and I can live without the ice. My mixture takes care of my cravings. So there you have it. I have solved the unsolvable. My quest is successful and I am sufficiently fulfilled. Lets hear it for Hershey's syrup. Don't leave home without it!!</span></div>JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-952823290313306142011-12-01T08:42:00.000-07:002011-12-01T08:42:01.984-07:00My Flag<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">I have a nice sized flag hanging from my second story balcony that requires occasional unfurling. So I keep an old fishing rod handy to take care of its wrapping around the staff. I am so pleased and proud of "Old Glory" that I almost salute it each time I come home after parking my car. As I look around my apartment complex, I see an occasional flag but, some how, I always wish that I would see more of them. Why is it that there are so few that want to show their love of country and the flag? With all the unrest that is plaguing our country at this time doesn't it make sense that more would indicate to the world, their love of country and want every one to know it? There was a time when this country was almost over run with those leaving Europe for a country that was advertising freedom and opportunity. We were a melting pot then with the Poles, the Micks. the Jews and so many more ethic groups that believed there would be a better way. Today we are being over run with the Muslim, the Latin and probably others of which I am unfamiliar. Are we still a melting pot? No! Today there are too many trying to divide us from each other. A flag would be a wonderful way to separate us from those who do not have the same love of country as do I. I can't help but think of Louise and am constantly beating myself up, figuratively, that I didn't tell her of my love for her as I put my arms around her. She's gone and I can never get her back, at least in this life. Do you see the anology I am inserting? Is it possible that there will come a day when we will be thinking "Oh how I wish for the time when we were able to put up a christmas tree, a cross, a flag, to once again be able to put our arms around a country we love" Where are our liberties going? This is not the vision of our founders! A pernicious erosion is gradually eating up many of the reasons those on the Mayflower were risking their lives to come to this country. I believe we are risking our freedoms, hoping to weather the storm and not sink the ship of liberty we have loved for these many,many decades. If we truly have concerns about this, would it violate our principles to let a flag indicate our love of county and what it stands for? The discord that is reverberating throughout our land is frightening and surely will lead to problems we have never had to witness. Maybe its time for all of us to really believe in the Pledge of Allegiance and maybe to show a flag to prove it!! God Bless America!!</span>JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-5204204397363054462011-11-30T13:16:00.000-07:002011-11-30T13:16:41.861-07:00Matthew<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2ODPlHuhJvL5wE7eEf6YYREWOWuzYi6sf7-0XNFPMKZ4xFg9J1jDtkYLPNQzPbOy5I5OhwssPyyqCKJGMcKA2CpADnCBb67h8IVAgA8Saw__vVR5C0FHlmUKiuNLtrilU79b4d_CwW8/s1600/027_27.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS2ODPlHuhJvL5wE7eEf6YYREWOWuzYi6sf7-0XNFPMKZ4xFg9J1jDtkYLPNQzPbOy5I5OhwssPyyqCKJGMcKA2CpADnCBb67h8IVAgA8Saw__vVR5C0FHlmUKiuNLtrilU79b4d_CwW8/s400/027_27.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Many times the words have been uttered that the only time families gather are at funerals and weddings. It is certainly true in this instance and we will smile and laugh at humorous memories. It is our way to show our love and respect for another family member that has passed into the final stage of life. May he find happiness there with the pain gone and his former family members and friends there to greet him. Farewell young Matthew. You will be missed. Your outgoing personality, your infectious humor and all those trademarks that made you what you have meant to us. Farewell.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-29245817453044744052011-09-05T11:54:00.000-07:002011-09-05T11:54:07.134-07:00LAST MAN STANDINGI know this title is reminescent of a gangster movie or some other media but in this case it really takes on a serious meaning for me. Because I am IT! Yes, the last of my peer group has passed on and I want to tell you of the several men that were classified as my best friends. Oh I have had many good friends through the years and they date back to high school days. But my best friends were special and memorable and as I now sit and think of them I can't help but shed a tear and remember what they meant to me, for they all meant a lot. My first best friend was uniquely called Moon. I don't know why and never asked when I should have. We were cheerleaders but more than that, we hung out together for several years until he went into the Air Force and a few months later, I went into the Navy. Yeah you guessed it, there was a war on and most of the guys I knew were enlisting or were being drafted. The funny thing about Ernie (Moon) was that although we kept in touch for 60 years, we rarely saw each other. He had stayed in the military while I had opted out but I still thought of him as my best friend. <br />
<br />
I had chosen to be a retailer and had a pretty good career going when I met Jim. He arrived at the store in which I was working and was hired as a housewares buyer. He was a tall, good humored guy and we struck it off at once. We traveled together, partied together and our wives became very good friends--which incidentally is the only way you can have a best friend. The wives have to like each other and fortunately they did. As the years passed, Jim and I were separated, each of us following our own chosen paths but somehow we continued to see each other in New York, New Jersey or Pennsylvania. We managed to continue our friendship all over the country.<br />
<br />
Bud and John were Navy buddies. Somehow, inspite of the Navy moving us around, we managed to get into the same group and managed to maintain our friendship through most of the time we were flying together. John and I were navigator/copilots in the same plane. Bud was in the same group but a different aircraft. However Bud and I, along with our wives had lived in the same home at one of the bases and had developed a wonderful relationship amongst the four of us. Didn't I tell you the wives also had to become friends? Those two friendships lasted over 60 years also with Bud passing about 3 years ago and John more recently. And now I have saved two friends until the end of this writing. One was Moynsie who was the first to go. He and I had known each other in High School but only casually. The real friendship began when we met at a bus stop in front of the University of Buffalo. For some reason everything clicked and we began a friendship-along with our spouses that lasted for years. Moynsie was the first to die and I was in Japan when my secretary called and told me she had bad news. Moynsie had passed away at 56 and I remember leaning against a wall with tears running down my cheeks. He was the one I had spent the most time with and whom I had come to love the most. I tear up now recalling how much laughter we got and gave each other. <br />
<br />
But I now come to the last to go. Dick and I had met at the department store at which we were both employed. He was a basement buyer at the time and we found out we had both been at the same high school although Dick was a couple of years younger. But we hit it off and it built into a great relationship. We were both buyers. We golfed together, often traveled together and even when I left to go to Wisconsin we would meet in N.Y. The thing that bonded us, was the yearly store party and we found that he and I would write the script, plan the events to take place on the stage of a nearby hotel and work things so the party was a complete success for several years. We had a blast entertaining all the other employees.<br />
<br />
Well, there you have it. A record of my closest, best friends. I have much to remember about them all. They brought joy into my life and helped to make my years part of the wonder that has been mine. As I think of them and what they meant to me, I can't help but recognize that it is friendships that make our lives what they are. What kind of a life would it be if we didn't have those relationships that go beyond our love of family- that enriches the tapestry into which is embroidered those many friendships. I am so grateful for the fulness that my life has been and for the men that have made it so. It is my hope that yours will be the equal. JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-54091886380656916652011-08-23T09:43:00.000-07:002011-08-23T09:43:47.565-07:00Always Leave Them LaughingIt seems like a long time ago and as I think of it, it is. But for some reason a friend and I were talking about our wives, children and pregnancies. Yeah, I know that seems strange for a couple of old birds like us to be talking about that subject. Football, maybe, baseball definitely, but a subject like pregnancies--hardly. However, we were and I remembered one of mine, --- make that Louises'; actually I remember all of them but this one was special. It was like this: I was in L.A. and was having dinner with our west coast salesmen and his wife when I remarked, "If you will excuse me I had better call home before it is too late" and I headed for a phone. Of course it was not a cell phone in those days, thus I had to leave the table and head for the nearest pay phone. I rang and Louise answered and as we talked, she asked if I was going to ask what the Dr had said. Of course the typical male I replied "Oh, that's right, what did he say." With that, a sudden gush of tears followed and her trembling voice said "I'm pregnant!" Knowing she may have wanted something else, I couldn't help myself and I almost shouted "Honey, that's wonderful", and I truly believed it was. I calmed her down but continued laughing. I have often wondered if she was emotional for fear that I would be upset or because she didn't want another child. I really think it was her concern about me but I was delighted and excited at the thought of another child and she became very accepting of what the next 8 months would bring. She would be 41 by the time the baby was to come. We mentioned it once, without concern, and never spoke of it again. Our Chris was born, peed all over the Dr.twice and I left the room laughing and have laughed many times since then recalling how happy I was at the news and how quickly Louise became happy too. His brothers and sisters think he was spoiled but its probable that the youngest of the family always catches that flack. He was just great kid and was the catalyst that completed our family. JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-2728041948698905682011-07-30T17:42:00.002-07:002011-07-30T17:42:38.992-07:00To Mr AnonymousFor several months an unidentified person, male or female, has chosen to criticize various parts of my blogs. I do not pretend to be a grade A student of English and this particular person served to have me go back and re-read those blogs on which had commented. He or she has never revealed his identity(note, I will now refer to this party as a "he") but in my going back he was correct in criticizing my work. While his criticisms were generally not of my grammar, my sentence structure or things of that nature, his comments were more sarcastic and the fact that he remained in a shadow was annoying. I'm not sure why he bothers and if he is supposedly giving constructive criticism, it is difficult to see it as such. As I started out saying, in going back to re-read my work, I deserved to be subjected to some sarcasm. Why I never audited myself is hard to explain, although some of it is a result of my lack of computer skill, it is now too late to worry about. I did what I did and now can suffer rightful criticisms.<br />
<br />
However to now respond to this person that chooses not to come forward, I would really like to know who you are and as of now you are forgiven for any irritations I may have had of you. I receive comments from a couple of people I have never met but when they speak of one of my blogs, I send an e mail expressing my thanks for their interest in my work. For you who may continue to remain hidden, my blogs are a result of a continuing history of a Father who likes to write about his past or present life. I will still write an occasional blog when I am inspired to do so and this one is a challenge to you to reveal who you are so that I may find another friend who likes to comment on what I have to say. If you choose not to admit who Mr Anonymous is, at least make your comments so I can read them. Your last contribution was in French and as you have pointed out, my English is the problem.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-51501682645307037882011-07-01T11:09:00.000-07:002011-07-01T11:09:33.214-07:00The ExamsThey were somewhat challenging but certainly interesting and I strangely enjoyed it for over two hours. It's rather strange that at this age I am still taking examinations. Well, it was actually only one test but it had to do with my mental acuity. Let me go back and explain. For some reason the VA decided I should be tested for my ability to demonstrate my ability to reason and determine at what stage was my dimensia. how was my memory or what had I forgotten etc. So I arrived at the office of a PHD and she was delightful. First off, I saw a plaque on her wall indicating she had attended the Un. of Buffalo-my old Alma Mater.That started up a lively conversation of where she lived and where I lived, both of which were well known areas to both of us. Later I realized our enthusiastic conversation was because she was sizing me up. But then the tests began. I did explain before we started that years ago I had gone through a battery of tests with another PHD and he left a bad taste in my mouth because his report stated nothing definitive about me. It was all qualified with could, should, might and so forth and I accused him of being gutless in a report that showed nothing of what or who I was. Dr Brown assured me I would have a specific report before I left her office and I felt placated with that assurance. She took out a sheet of paper and marked it with a middle mark and other marks on each side, which I found out later, indicated the middle mark being average and the marks on the right side were for above average and the ones on the left were below average. There were several forms of tests, math, cultural i.e. "who wrote Faust or who was leader of the French army during the 1800s". Several other tests for the purpose of determining the state of my memory. There were too many to go into but they all were ,as I said before, challenging but interesting. Dr Brown (Christina) was very social, so much so that I asked if I could take her to lunch one day soon. She replied not for two years. When I looked at her questioningly, she said "You are my patient and there has to be a 2 year period before further socializing could take place." Shucks, just my luck! Well, to sum up, all her marks were above the average line, some even high average, and two or three notations were"superior". She kept encouraging me when I faltered at one or another point and I did very poorly on one test which asked me to take some blocks and with the method they were colored, arrange them to look like pictures she showed me. As I tried to do so I said "This isn't my strength". and she replied "That's obvious." Oh well, one engineering failure isn't too bad for my age. She was very pointed in saying the tests had a limit for those up to the age of 85 and I was doing very well. So that sums up an unforgettable experience and as I departed, I remarked,"I'll look forward to calling you in two years". She smiled and said to me "Don't forget". I thought as I left, "I wonder what she meant by that"?JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-80907840616530147502011-04-06T10:09:00.000-07:002011-04-06T10:09:10.614-07:00Songs of OldI had such a great evening!! A new friend I had dinner with last tnight turned out to be a really good piano player. We got talking about it while we were eating and she mentioned she had a song book with all 50's songs in it. I said "thats my year--",rather excitedly! She then said "O.K., I'll meet you by the piano and we'll have a sing-a-long. She and her husband are winter visitors and I have met them during the past 3 years when they have been in our apartment complex but it was the first I realized she played the piano. And so it began. It was so much fun going throught the book page by page. Although she is many years younger than me,she had an immediate relationship with the songs that once were MY songs and she not only played them well but added her own touches with a little boogie-woogie thrown in on occasion. My voice is not very good any more but just to be able to read the words on the pages and remember some songs quite well and others only from what I could read brought back the recollections of what once was. It reminded me of those nights too many years ago when standing around a piano, having Jeanne (an old friend) playing the popular melodies of the day, that were some of those happy times of great memories. So I am grateful to my new friend, Jackie and her huband, Larry for one of the better evenings spent here singing those song of so long ago rekindling things I once loved. Thanks Jackie.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-91616264940006229232011-03-31T18:07:00.000-07:002011-03-31T18:07:35.768-07:00Play BallI am excited!! I was awake until after 5:00 this morning with no sleep. I got up twice to play at my machine. I sat up for quite a while and watched a good movie. I did all those things trying to go to sleep--no way! And why?!Baseball starts tomorrow!! My Twins are starting out playing up in Toronto and will probably freeze their little tootsies. But so what; its the opening of 6 months straining my eyes, looking into my computer and groaning or cheering depending on who's at bat. Do you know baseball, as we know it, has now been in business for some 150 years. Do you also know that the various distances from base to base are still the same and the pitchers mound is still 60 feet,6 inches from home plate. Do you also know that baseball is the only competetive sport where the defense cannot score a basket,a point,a run, nothing?? Ha!Got ya didn't I? Its part of what makes this a great team sport. I love the Minnesota Twins and have been a baseball devotee from the time I was about 9. I played catch with all my kids in the yard. I refused to buy a lovely home in Minneaplis because it was a street on which I would not be able to play catch with my sons and occasionally a daughter. Incidentally she made the Little League team by tucking her hair under her ball cap and that was before they allowed girls to play America's game. True! Buffalo, my home town, was a farm team for Cleveland and I remember the team there with Bob Feller, Bob lemon, Mike Garcia and a host of others. Who alive today recalls the time in the 1954 World Series where wonderful, Willie Mays ran all the way to the back fence to take a monstrous hit away from Vic Wertz. I think that was the first time I died. I have died more times than the proverbial cat, sometimes more than once in the same game. My team has won our divion 6 out of 9 years and yet we always come up against the Yankees-- the Damn Yankees for the uninformed. Maybe this year? But I get ahead of myself. Lets wait and see how the season plays but I can't. Wait that is. Thankfully I won't have much longer. I will be at my post waiting for that clarion call---PLAY BALL! I'll try to sleep tonight but don't count on it!!JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-30802413170345684332011-03-19T16:40:00.000-07:002011-03-19T16:40:08.455-07:00Wuzzy FuzzyI was watching a commercial, although I usually have no interest in them, but this however, was about a golfer I once knew. Fuzzy was a member of our golf staff and our company had quite a few golfers that wore our product--you know, the shirts with the little penguin embroidery on the chest. Our shirts were very popular and once upon a time we sold more of those shirts than our 3 nearest competitors combined. However, returning to Fuzzy: back in about 1979 he won the U.S.Open- a very honored tournament which carried a lot of prestige for the winner. As he was a member of the staff, it was my job to give him $5000 bonus and to send him a new contract. I upgraded his present one from about $2500 to a new $5000. I had begun to have some concerns about why I had not received a reply regarding the new contract when I had a call come in from a person who introduced himself as Fuzzy's agent. I thought I was now about to put that new contract to bed. Wrong! I was advised that Fuzzy had a new offer from a "better" company that wanted to sign him for a lot more money. Question? Was I willing to let our golfer out of his contract so he could sign with a different company? I mulled this over while the agent droned on about new, better opportunities and I'm. not going to stand in his way am I? I said in reply "I'm not sure I would look at this change as being beneficial to a company that had carried him at a minimal gaurantee for a few years and now was a looking to get a return on our investment. This was the first time I had run into an agent and was in new waters. The discussion continued with him threatening to have his client wear another company's logo and me saying then we would have grounds to take him to court for violating his contract with us. The agent then said " Well, I guess he will just not wear your clothing anymore".To which I quickly replied. Well I guess he won't get any bonus from us if he wins for this next season. Had him again didn't I?! Anyway,it went back and forth until he hung up angry that Fuzzy was signed for the following year as well as the one coming up. I would think that any agent should read the contracts of the persons represented by him, don't you? To make a long story short the discussions continued with him trying to get me to let Fuzzy out of the current contract. I finally became resigned to the fact we would lose a golfer and told him, "If Fuzzy wants to send us a check for $10,00 I'll tear up his contract". And that is not the end of the story. A few weeks later I had come to Phoenix to view other potential golfers that would make good members of our staff and I am at the practise greens early one morning and there is only one golfer practising his putting and of course, it is Fuzzy. I had never met him before and thought "Oh well, I should go and say hello". Not knowing what he would say to me I took a bold approach and said "Fuzzy, we have never met before but I'm the guy that cost you $10,000" He looked at me suspiciously and I followed up my remark with "I'm with Munsignwear and I just let you off the hook so you can sign elsewhere" He stuck out his hand and said "Hell, Jim thats business. I'm glad to know you". A nice guy right!! The sad thing is that whoever the other "better" company is, they never signed Fuzzy to any contract and he was not a member of any of the company staffs of which I'm familiar. I wonder if that agent is still connected with any golfers?JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-46281982399448970502011-03-19T16:22:00.000-07:002011-03-19T16:22:45.036-07:00The Goodness of PeopleThe Goodness of People <br />
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I awoke late this morning and remembered I had promised to buy a certain loaf of bread for my friend so I rumbled about and left the apartment after 5 minutes had passed. For me, that was fast. I hurried to this bread company that was about 6 miles away and it was a madhouse. It has never had much parking but this was the first time I had seen, not only parking space filled, but cars sitting and waiting for an opening and such was this morning. After some shuttling back and forth I finally managed to get a parking space and hurried from my car. I got inside and there were many persons moving back and forth and the shelves were loaded with various breads. I grabbed my selection and got in a line with several others to await my turn. In the process I began speaking to the lady in front of me saying to her,"What in the world will you do with this much bread". She must have had 20 loaves. She replied "Oh I will freeze it. I have a very large freezer". We were about to approach the lady who was taking the money and the woman in front was giving her a credit card when I reach into my back pocket.Whoa!! Wait a minute, Darn! I forgot my credit card and realizing this turned to leave when the lady in front said to me "I got yours?." I asked her if she heard what I was thinking and she said "No, I just wanted buy you a loaf of bread". Now how nice is that?! It was then I said that I had left my wallet and would have left except she steped up. I asked her if she was married, not wishing to lose an opportunity, she laughed and said she was and that ended what could have been a beautiful friendship. " I said " Well, we'll always have Paris". What a nice early morning experience! Life is good at times.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-68216366411231167962011-03-19T16:19:00.000-07:002011-03-19T16:19:02.883-07:00Days of YoreDays of Yore <br />
Lying in bed early this morning, I began to think about various things of my youth and younger years. It probably won't mean much except to those over 75 and they are getting fewer and fewer. So I guess you might say this writing will be for my own amusement and possibly, some where down the line, maybe one of my great, grandchildren may stumble across this and wonder how Grampa ever survived his childhood. But let me begin by saying there was very little religion in our home. Oh I used to go to Sunday School and carry my pennies that, supposedly, were intended for the collection plate. But, to be honest.I some times used them at the corner candy store across from the church. Yes, I was incorrigible at a very early age. I spent my pennies on Jujy Fruits because they lasted a long time. I tried Jaw Breakers but they were very noticeable in my cheek and I didn't want to advertise my pilfering from the church. I often wondered if Reverend Jolley would have missed my donation? I managed to become confirmed, having learned the various gospels and creeds so I guess I got somethings right! I remember strange things about my childhood-some of which are still around. For example, sneakers. Only someone my age would still be calling running shoes, sneakers, And then there were Thom McMahan (sp?) shoes. My Dad wouldn't buy any but that brand back then. Was there a different brand for kids? Growing up in Buffalo, it was curious to see cream frozen and extending beyond the milk bottle top when the weather was cold. Homogenized milk hadn't been discovered yet?!When Mom wasn't looking I would sneak a spoonfull to eat--another example of my nefarious character. I recall going to high school and my first remembrance of Louise was when I was standing on a corner waiting for a friend to walk to school with me, when she and two other girls went by. I remember her nice legs but never saw her again for five years. Just think I might have married at age 17. Does anyone remember the zoot suiters? They were the "creeps" that attended all the dances and had these strange clothes that had baggy trousers with tight ankles. They also had very long suit coats with key chains that dangled to about their knees and wore very wide brimmed hats. Very weird! As I gradually matured I enlisted in the U.S. Navy and looking back loved that 3 years of my life, much of which has previously been written. There were many things of my childhood but they have been put on paper in earlier days and repetition is unnecessary but I wonder if Dentyne or Beemans gum is still around? Somehow I managed to get into the Men's clothing business and became, amongst other things a Men's hat buyer. Any salesmen that came into the store in those days was asked to leave if he wasn't wearing a hat. I still like hats and would wear one if it was still the fashion. Besides my hair is thinning and a hat would prevent any stares or strange looks. One thing which I really liked was the silk or nylon clad legs with the seams up the back. Man, I thought they were very sexy and even at my advanced age would love to see them back in style. Does that make me a dirty old man? Color me guilty!! Lastly, I wish to say a few words about my first car. My Dad bought this Graham Paige which was of the 1929 vintage. It wasn't much but it had wheels that worked and I can remember driving Linda around the block on many nights because that was the way she went to sleep, Well those are just a few of the things that disturbed my slumber this morning and if and when any of my grandkids find these meanderings amongst my papers, I hope they find some amusement in the early days of Old Gramps.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-73362741661311335752011-03-19T16:09:00.001-07:002011-03-19T19:56:15.774-07:00My BirthdaysMy Birthdays <br />
Being born in February wasn't exactly conducive to having birthdays on warmer days and thus a number of my birthdays are vague and therefore not particularly memorable. However, some of them stand out at least to the degree that I can remember, what took place on those days. For example, my 20th.; that was the day Louise saw me off on a train headed for Albany N.Y. and our final destination was to be Troy at a school which I shall call R.P.I. because I can't spell the actual title of this university. It had an excellent reputation rivaling the best of the tech schools. Why is this so memorable? It's because I was now in the U.S. Navy and I was headed for my first training facility. I am not going to dwell on this although I was very proud having successfully passed quite a number of varying tests that were the major part of our enlistment. A quick example was that the first battery of tests taken in Rochester N. Y.found me one of nine out of 36 passing the first level.<br />
My 30th was notable in that Louise surprised me and had a friend keep me in a hotel bar while he got drunk and kept me from going home. I arrived home to "SURPRISE"and our new but very small house was packed to the ceiling with friends and neighbors. I mean packed. Our living room was about 11' by 13' and I had walled up the entrance to the kitchen to get more wall space thus allowing our furniture to fit. People were sitting on stairs leading to our ex-pandable upper level. If you enjoy friendships there was plenty of happiness to share that evening. <br />
My 40th birthday was only remembered because at the time I had forgotten that I had added a year but while fast asleep,I was awakened by a call from Louise, who was in Wisconsin, and that's another story which I might relate sometime. She was with a friend enjoying an evening out and called to wish me well. Should I have been suspicious with her being out at 11:00 at night? <br />
As for my 50th, I have no recall whatsoever and so I will move along.<br />
However, my 60th was very special. I had taken a new job and had landed at a small airport in Appleton,Wisconsin where fortunately I was met by the head of the store I was going to work for. He took me to my new residence, a hotel, and gave me directions to a restaurant where he had already made arrangements for me to have dinner that evening. The dinner was great but the hotel while completely acceptable, was to be my home for about 6 months. The company I was going to work for owned the hotel and had agreed to permit me to live there for as long as it took my family to join me . My room was quite large but right over a bar where the juke box played constantly and I never again want to hear the theme to "A Summer Place".<br />
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My 70th was, once again in a new home, now in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and while there was a party for me, it was much more subdued than was my 30th and now I will be 87 this coming Saturday. I am once again in different surroundings being in a retirement community which is replete with walkers , canes and wheelchairs. I have never seen so many geriatrics in one place and I am perturbed telling myself I don't belong here but for the first time in my life (?) I may be wrong. I am now in Arizona, Mesa, to be exact, and love it here. Its the weather that I love and when I returned to Minnsota last December, I decided to never again venture into any place north of Scottsdale during the months of November to April. I love the blue skies and the blazing sun. I will finish my last days here and whether I will live to be 90 is a question for which I'm not sure there is an answer except, possibly, do I want to?JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8752294923342783519.post-57449746660930634632011-03-04T14:18:00.002-07:002011-03-19T17:24:46.670-07:00Home AgainI was up and about early this morning. I had been in contact with my grandson, Jeff in Orlando. We were trying to make plans to go fishing again but he was having problems trying to get out of a court date he was involved in. Ain't it heck when your job gets in the way of your recreation? I also had to make a date with my dentist and have my dentures refitted so I could eat more comfortably. That phone conversation was sucessful and I set off to keep a 9:15 appointment. I was cruising down Center street at about 9:05 when I became distracted and the next thing I am hitting a curb with some velocity. I blew my right front tire AND my rear tire. When I examined it I saw I had also managed to wreck the rim. Oh dear, here I am without a cell phone and no way to #1, cancel my 9:15 or #2, a 10:30 I had made with a church friend. I then see a man standing at front of a condo, I assumed to be his, and called out "Do you have a cell phone I can use?" I walked over and he pulled out his cell called a number I gave him--my insurance agent, and things began to happen. My agent called me back on his cell phone and arranged for a towing service to come, get the car and take it about a mile away to a car repair shop recomended by my new friend--Carlos. No, he wasn't an owner in the repair shop. However, after the tow truck had put my car up on the bed, and had me get in, we drove to the aforementioned repair place. Getting the paper work done with knowledge that I would have to lay out money for 2 tires, a new rim, maybe then straightening of the car frame was enough to make me sick. In the meantime, here comes Carlos, saying he wanted to make sure I got here O.K. What a nice guy!!The shop owner didn't have a loaner car but said he would drive me home at which time Carlos volunteered to take care of that. And he did! As he drove away, I thought to myself, "what a nice guy" at the same time telling myself I wanted to get to know him better. In the several minutes we were together I discovered, we are both diabetics, we have both lost our wives and are alone but managing to stay afloat finacially and emtionally. I thought as, he drove off,this confirms that there are people in this world that are friendly, able and willing to help others that have troubles. I'm sure glad we met and we will meet again.JIMhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09629451687735807956noreply@blogger.com2