The Arizona Penguin

My Flag

2011-12-01T08:42:00.000-07:00

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!!

Matthew

2011-11-30T13:16:00.000-07:00

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.

LAST MAN STANDING

2011-09-05T11:54:00.000-07:00

I 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Always Leave Them Laughing

2011-08-23T09:43:00.000-07:00

It 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.

To Mr Anonymous

2011-07-30T17:42:00.002-07:00

For 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.

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.

The Exams

2011-07-01T11:09:00.000-07:00

They 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"?

Songs of Old

2011-04-06T10:09:00.000-07:00

I 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.

Play Ball

2011-03-31T18:07:00.000-07:00

I 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!!

Wuzzy Fuzzy

2011-03-19T16:40:00.000-07:00

I 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?

The Goodness of People

2011-03-19T16:22:00.000-07:00

The Goodness of People

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.

Days of Yore

2011-03-19T16:19:00.000-07:00

Days of Yore
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.

My Birthdays

2011-03-19T16:09:00.001-07:00

My Birthdays
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.
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.
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?
As for my 50th, I have no recall whatsoever and so I will move along.
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".

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?

Home Again

2011-03-04T14:18:00.002-07:00

I 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.

Mensrooms of WW2

2011-01-12T05:41:00.003-07:00

Once again, the pink tinged Eastern skies of Arizona have not yet appeared and I am risen from my bed to relate a story told to a friend of mine a few days ago. It had to do with a certain phenomonon that accompanied the days of WW2. Let me back up and tell of my earlier days and my new position as a Boyswear Buyer in the department store in which I had previously worked part time. I was 23 at the time and upon my elevation to the aforementioned position, I became known as the youngest buyer ever appointed in that store. I mention this mainly to point out that my ears were not yet wet and my education was just beginning it this chosen job.However to prove a point, I must speak of the spectre of a thing that haunted every military based Mens room across the entire United States. There is not a man who served in the military that will not smile when you mention the name or the image of this visitor to the urinals of the country's toilets. On a wall in each restroom is scrawled, by an unknown quasi-artist, a picture that has come to my mind, just recently, as I recalled my experience. This picture has, over the years, come to represent an image engraven in the minds of the entire male reprsentatives of the Army, Navy, Marine and every other military installation you might think of. It may also be a fixture in the imagination of the female military personnel as well. The picture is represented by a bald, large nosed individual peering over a wood fence with his four fingers of each hand grasping the fence top. He is quite homely with his large eyes and the previously mentioned nose and scalp. Further, there is the same inscription on each and every wall in the toilets visited by millions of service persons across this wide expanse. It says "Kilroy was here" Sound familiar? Your Father, Grandfather, Uncle or boyfriend may have spoken of him. He was extremely well known in those days.
So here am I, in the middle of Herald Square, at Broadway, in New York city trying to locate a Boys outerwear manufacturing company. I have the address but it isn't likely that this company is situated between Macys and Gimbels and yet that is what my address reads, Hmmn--a quandary for a young buyer not yet knowledgeable in the mysteries of my new job. Still, undaunted and not yet willing to give up, I approached a formidable looking N.Y policeman. You know the stereotype; big, with a ruddy complexion, all knowing and yet, friendly looking. So somewhat intimidated, I walked up to him and said "Can you help me?" He replied, with a wary look, "What can I do for you?" I said "I'm looking for a clothing company that was supposed to be here " I said, showing him my address. He looked at it and said "Why that's right in the middle of this intersection?". "Thats the problem" I stated! "What company are you looking for" he asked? And this is where it bgins to stick in my throat as I replied "Kilroy" because he said to me "Are you putting me on?" I knew at once that he recalled the previous told story and my heart took a dive as I said in a somewhat quavering voice, "No sir". You see I was very polite because TV had shown me what a N.Y. policeman could be like and I had already been advised on the rudeness of New Yorkers. However, he suddenly had a big smile and then said "That large building, in the next block, houses a lot of manufacturers, why don't you try there?" Well, I did and yes, I found Kilroy. It was a small thing, in retrospect, but the image of what the restroom walls had included was on my mind and I was faint at heart in approaching a cop and displaying my ignorance. But you know what? Those New York cops are pretty nice and I had found a friend in the Big Apple. There will be many of you, who, if you read this have never heard of Kilroy but if you ask any person who once served in the military, you will get a knowing smile. And further, I am willing to bet that Kilroy is still looking over the top of the fence in restrooms not only in the United States but now, all over the world. God bless the military and God bless that ugly creature, Kilroy, for bringing some levity to a war torn world.

The Rookie

2010-12-26T06:13:00.000-07:00

Since I have been an adult I have had a fascination about relationships between Fathers and Sons. Part of that is because of my personal emotionalism and I guess, mainly because my Dad died fairly young --at least before I had an opportunity to just sit around and talk about various things with him. As a result I have been left wondering, sadly I might add, what he and I could have had by way a bond; a comonality linking us together. Last night I watched a movie entitled "The Rookie" It was a story about a high school chemistry teacher who was also the baseball coach of the school and had a group of students who composed the team and were not very good. However his relationship with them was such that they enjoyed each other with much ribbing and kidding and because they were losing more games than they were winning, he challenged them to play better and they accepted the challenge if he in return would try out for the professional baseball team that trained near their town. He had demonstrsted an ability to really throw a fast ball--throwing the cheese as it was sometimes referred to. He accepted the challenge providing they wouild win the county championship. They did and then demanded he live up to the promise he had made. Well, the story got all mixed up in his fatherhood duties, like changing the babies' dirty diapers at the baseball training grounds and the verbal abuse that he good naturedly received as he was about to go out and show his stuff to the leaders of the team. The point though, was that his father had never paid much attention to him when he was a kid - like not attending the games in which he had played and the strained relationship between them. I was reminded of me and my Dad. Not that there was a strained relationship between he and I. For the most part there was almost no realtionship. It was the days of the great depression and he was busy trying to hold a family together and feed them and somehow I understood this and was never troubled by this lack between us. There was never love outwardly spoken of and that was O.K. It was when I was in servi ce during WW2 and had come home on leave rather late at night. I entered my parents bedroom and was softly speaking with my Mother when my Dad woke up and instinctively reached up and wrapped his arms around me--the first sign I ever received that there was a bond between us. It hit me like a lightning strike and tears were running down my face realizing I was loved by my Father. From that night forward, I have always teared up when I would read, hear or view a father son, show of love or affection. It just would grab me with the knowledge that he and I never had a chance to develop that affection. The world around us was such that I entered the Navy at 19 and married before I was released and then was busy developing my own family. Dad and I were never permitted to have the conversations, the togetherness that allowed a love to grow. The world had passed us by. How sad that I was not adult enough to try harder to love my Father. He passed away at a young age and I was left with a sense of loss that I felt was my fault. I could have tried harder. I should have known better. I am consoled with the knowledge that there will one day be a grand reunion and I will have the opportunity to make up for that which was lost in this life. Almost sounds like a movie doesn't it? However, as a result, as before mentioned, that whenever I become aware of a successful father son relationship I am reminded of my loss. Getting back to the movie, the teacher showed he had the stuff, could really bring it, another baseball term, and became a major league pitcher. As a result he and his father were reconciled and oh I might add that as a boy, my dream of being a major league player was uppermost in my mind way back then--not that I would ever have successfully made it at a major league level but isn't that what dreams are all about? We dream the improbable and are content. Ah, to sleep, per chance to dream and sometimes those dreams become the realities of life. The Rookie made it and, of course, lived happily ever after.

A Christmas Story

2010-12-14T06:40:00.001-07:00

No, this is not another of those stories as first told by Dickens, rather, it is another chronicle about my various writings over the years with a particular regard about the dreaded Christmas letters. You know, like those you receive where proud parents are proclaiming each or maybe all of their children will certainly become Secretary of State or possibly even President. I am now old enough, without any fear that my meanderings will be read by any of them, to state, I disliked them and finally reached a point where, knowing what they would include, didn't read them. Gasp! That subject has been written by Ann Landers and others to a pont of distaste but this is finally MY attitude toward them. First of all I was always urged, coerced, threatened and sometimes even received bodily harm from my darling wife to write the Christmas letter, which was always about our kids. Now that's an admission that in part I was guilty of the same things our friends wrote about. However, I never wrote about how very wonderful they were because others used to write tales ad nauseaum (sp?) on that subject and I tried to make mine more of a discription of some of their antics that might bring a smile to the faces of those reading them. I hoped to entertain my friends rather than bore them. Admittedly, I did receive some nice comments from some of my readers--two to be more precise, my Mother and my wife. both to assauge my ego and to hope that the following year might not take as much pleading. I wrote how my oldest daughter, age four
had cut off the hair of my youngest daughter, age 3, so that she looked like a badly shorn sheep or I might state that all of my sons were athletes, sometimes prone to misplay a ball, but never did I write anything that might have been how fantastic they were (although they were pretty nifty). But after some 34 years of writing our annual Christmas letter, I finally gave up for lack of humor surrounding the past year. Even Louise concluded they weren't what they used to be and I was relieved of that duty. However, they were all included in a book and now once in a while I will get it out and smile as I read one or two. They are not a journal writing. I was never in to that. But they do give an historical remembrance to some of the those days of long ago and of what once was. Having said all this, I am left with the thought it might be a good time to say a very Merry Christmas to those of you who may read this and whom I love. May the next year find you healthy, wealthy and wise enough not to bore your friends with another Christmas story,

The Music Shop

2010-12-08T14:52:00.000-07:00

For several years I have driven down the same road passing all the same things without paying particular attention to them. Amongst these is a drab little shop with a nondescript sign blinking sporadically, Music Shop. I have thought to myself, every time I have passed it by, I should drop in and see if they can tell me where I can buy some song books but have also had the feeling that they don't look as though they could tell me anything about song books. Now one might ask what do I want with song books? It's a legitimate question. I can't really give it a legitimate asnwer but the thought persisted and finally, having some extra time the other day, I decided to stop in and ask my question. As I entered the shop I first noticed several violins sitting in a rack with a note saying "For rent or repair". I saw many other instrumens in quantity and became aware of the size of the shop and the magnitude of musical supplies of various kinds However, I also noted off to the side, a rack of what appeared to be various pieces of sheet music and song books. I was pleasantly surprised to see quite a large collection of the books with various titles indicating the years in which the songs had been written. I saw books titled "Songs of the 40's, Songs of the 30's, Songs of the 50's" and several more years. Once you get past the 60s. and the Beattles, there's little or no music that was of any interest. I understand that every generation thinks its music is the best ever but where do you read lyrics like "I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places, that this heart of mine embraces all day through. In that old cafe, the park across the way, a childrens carousel, a chestnut tree, a wishing well". Or "Long ago and far away, I dreamed a dream one day and now that dream is here beside me. Long the skies were overcast but now the clouds have passed. You're here at last".
Oh, I know it doesn't read as well as it sings but I remember that and other songs from when I was in high school and I still recall the lovely words so often that set this or that song above all the rest. The lyrics of today total"Oh baby. Oh baby". Where are the Johnny Mercers, the Irving Berlins and the Oscar Hammersteins of yesteryear? They just aren't and I feel like something is lost in this day of computers and Ipods. I miss the old songs and I guess that answers the question asked above. That's why I bought the song book of the 40s and in the not distant future, I'll go back and get "Songs of the 50's and maybe the 30's. Why? So I can refresh my memories and this onset of nostalgia. I'm a boy of that era and so very glad it was my time of life. I wouldn't change it for anything.

Jimmie From JN's

2010-12-03T10:14:00.000-07:00

In the dim, dark, distant past when I was working in a department store and was asked by management to do various things outside the norm of what I had ostensibly been hired to do. To explain; when I came home from the Navy, I went to work as a menswear salesman during the Christmas rush and while waiting for college to open up it helped pay some bills. Little did I know at the time that it would become my lifelong career. However, that's a story that has already been told more than once. To get back to the department store and its callings of odd requirements, one of my early jobs was to "hawk" a rather unique men's razor in a booth. In a loud voice I would be shouting the virtues of this forenamed instrument but selling very few of them. There was a time when I was to don a type of rabbit costume and go into the main street window to talk to small children in what I thought to be a rabbits voice. I am sure my very large rabbit head dulled the assumed voice but I could see the little kids smiling and waving and pointing at the Easter Bunny. So, having established myself as somewhat of a nut case, who would do anything to earn a buck, sometime later, I was asked to replace Johnny Corbett. At what, you might ask? Well that's where the title of this piece comes into play. Johnny worked for WBEN, a radio,TV station in Buffalo, N.Y. and had a weekly 15 minute television program in which he extolled the virtues of various store items. It could have been a new iron, a ladies dress the store was promoting or even, possibly, fishing equipment--it could have been anything. He went on vacation for two weeks each year and the program became Jimmie From JN's. You guessed it! I took over. Its like the old commercial "Give it to Mikey". And so for that two week period, I was the personality that became the "star" of the show. Standing there in front of the cameras, I would tout any object left at the studio for my spiel and it was somewhat of a test of my ability to attempt to put any kind of a twist on the object to produce interest. But again, trying to earn a buck and only earning $40 a week, the extra $25, per program, would come in handy. I did this for 2-3 years and never got a raise which may tell you something about my talent although I might emphasize this was only for that two week period Johnny took off. I remember, one time I was closing down the program after reading the sign stating " 3 minutes" after which additional signs would be displayed for me to gradually stop talking. As the "1 minute sign appeared, there was suddenly a flurry of excitement and some one came back with the 3 minute sign which meant, although I, in the act of saying goodbye, now had to fill 3 minutes of conversation to amuse the viewing audience. I never knew whether they did it on purpose to test my recovery capabilities or whether is was a prank but filling three minutes of empty airtime did cause some consternation. However I had done my stint for the required 10 days with a check for $25 per day, when I received a call from Louise in tears and crying. She told me she had an accident with the car and had been told it would cost $250 for the repair(Try getting work done for that these days-Hah!) However, in my best Edward G. Robinson snarl I said "That's O.K. baby, I have a check with the imprint "WBEN Radio and Television" and guess what? Its for $250." Hurrah! Another emergency covered! For maybe the two older people who might wonder who the above mentioned stranger is, he was a popular Hollywood character who made his living playing tough guys. Incidentally, that ended my career as a TV personality but, as I went around doing my regular job as a buyer for Menswear, it was always amusing that so many people recognized Jimmie from JN's.

As Age Approaches

2010-12-01T13:24:00.000-07:00

I've been accused of getting old and in my usual whimsical manner, I reply "Age is only as old as you feel" and while that is a cliche, it has some truth to it. I admit to rarely going out dancing--like never, but it is only because I find myself more and more often, seeking the confort of that big, easy chair sitting in my living room. However, I have noticed at certain family gatherings, when I am surrounded with many, much younger than me, that I now, instead of being the center of attention that was once the case, I find myself off in a corner, satisfied to watch and smile at someone else's antics. Having noticed that as one of my more recent characteristics gives pause for me to analyze myself. What has happened to the old Jim?? Well, let me think:I am a diabetic with high blood pressure; I have four stints in my main heart artery. My blood sugar is being checked every morning to see what my sugar intake was for the previous day and I don't seem to climb the stairs as I did once. Adding that up makes me a bit unsure of my physical condition. But, you know what? I feel good!! I occasiionally have a little trouble with balance but all in all, I sincerely do not feel my age. However, having said that, there was an incident at a family gathering where 3 couples, and the guy now occupying the center stage. His humor was paralyzing the 3 couples with laughter. They were cracking up so badly that I was concerned with either regurgitation or possibly ruptures. However that was not my foremost concern. I was not getting the humor that was creating this rampant display of laughter. I was not in tune with what was being said. My grandchildren and nephews were in agony probably hoping there would be a let-up in the wise cracks. It was then I realized maybe age had a hand in my ignorance, but for a guy who was once labeled as the wittiest in the 500 graduation class of 1940, it was difficult to swallow my pride and admit defeat. But, swallow I did, realizing that I was no longer in contention for glib remarks and, just maybe, I had better it. I am advancing toward the point where, it is possible, age is approaching. However, I, emphatically state, I don't feel it! And, inasmuch as I have to run catch a plane, I'm just going to have to live with it.

DEDICATION

2010-09-18T14:09:00.000-07:00

It was in the fall of 1975 that a paralyzing phone call found me in New York City. My younger brother had passed away and Louise and I agreed to meet in our earlier home in Buffalo N.Y. We arrived at the funeral home the next evening but it was not a normal funeral where it is usually the elderly that have passed on, and while there is respect, it still has the undertones of laughter and smiles when meeting old friends. However this was a sober occasion with two uniformed Firemen flanking the casket of my brother,Burt. He was a fireman who had fallen in the line of duty while attempting to put out the fire raging through out an empty house.This guard detail stood at attention throughout the open hours of the mortuary and were continually replaced by others. It was obvious the Firemen were there to honor the death of a comrade and this was a time when respect, admiration and sorrow was on full display. I am remiss in the writing of this eulogy and my recall may be blurred because of the passage of the years and yet, there is much that has been burned into my memory even though some of the dates may be incorrect. The days there overlapped but my next memory is that of a very large church standing on the outskirts of the city that, much earilier than the anounced time of the ceremony, was filled with family, friends, neighbors and Firemen; with an overflow of standing room only. This standing room included many hundreds on the outside and this area also included a multitude of police. There had to be a contingent from every Fire Depaertment in the state and it was a sea of blue, With all those present, the spirit of God must also have been in attendance to mourn the passing of one of His children At the conclusion of the service the casket was raised to the top of the nearby fire truck to head the cortege that was to roll through the city of Buffalo passing every fire station, where those on duty, would be in full dress, standing at attention, as the truck passed by. It was a tremendous display of the honor reserved for those comrades that fell doing their duty. I am reminded of the firemen and police that were consumed by the flames of 9/11, along with the belief that there are men, when called upon ,who are willing to die in the performance of their duty. I am also reminded that there is irony accompanying this funeral. Burt was part of small group that were petitioning the city to permit them to have controlled burning of these empty shells so as to prevent the possible death of, not only the homeless sheltered there, but possibly more importantly,as in the case of my brother.The cemetery was teeming with so many that had been in the church grounds and I was again touched emotionally at the reverence displayed by these men. Forgive me if I am somewhat ambigous in my recollections but the spirit of my memory is there and this is a eulogy I gave in my heart those many years ago. I give it now in dedication to Jimmie, Cheryl, Donna and Billie

The Joy of Family

2010-09-01T14:36:00.000-07:00

I think that this was the happiest I have been in many years. It all took place when I traveled to Utah for the wedding of my grandson, Dillon. He had returned from a mission for our church and had been at the BYU Idaho U.,when, surprise, surprise, he found his true love. I am not scoffing at this union, contrary, they were sealed in one of our temples which means they are bonded together forever and ever and never to part. Its a serious business when you covenant to be together for the eternities but the excitement of the gathering of my family, both near and extended, was cause to mingle-nephews, nieces, great nephews and nieces, grandchildren and great grandchildren, sons and daughters and a mixtures of so many relatives I can't include them all, It took place at the wedding reception and as family after family arrived the excitement kept mounting, the cheering got louder and the smiles were the pinnacle of happiness. I can't count the faces of all those I had often thought of and loved from a distance. I was in my glory to see the friendships that were struck or re-newed. Many had not seen their cousins, for example, in many years and the expressions of joy that surrounded this gathering was indeed cause for celebration. There were even a couple that I had to search my memory to come up with the names those that greeted me. I have returned home now and the warmth of that occasion still resides with me. How wonderful to bring together a group of this many and feel the love emanating from all in attendance. The philosophers have often spoken of the measure of a family. How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky? Those are the measurements that I feel personified my happiness at this glorious meeting. This is the knowledge that families can be forever when this love is in place.

Pillar to Post

2010-08-30T16:54:00.001-07:00

I was reminded recently that I had never blogged my Naval exploits in the ring--the boxing ring that is. Now this is a bit of ancient history but it did take place and has always occupied one of my pleasing memories. So to back up a bit, I was newly stationed at the Chapel Hill campus in North Carolina and this was what was pre-flight and consisted of a great deal of physical fitness, four hours of studies dailey, leaving six hours of working out. As a welcome gift, I was placed on the boxing team. Oh there were several other athletic groups I could have gone to but somehow, some wag, decided I looked like a boxer. The only time I had ever put on gloves was in the basement of Billy Harrisons house where he forthwith took advantage of my lack of experience by smashing me in the solar plexus where I immedately collapsed to the floor and died for several minutes. Remembering that in great clarity did not thrill me when I received my assignment. My first fight explains the title of this blog and I was the recipient of of a pounding that literally took me form pillar to post. I learned a lot that first fight. I learned to avoid any further activities that had to do with leather. I also learned that boxing is not a good sport in which you come in 2nd. I took such a beating that you would have thought I had faced Mohammet Ali. So with a week to recover before my next fight I approached that day with a mixture of terror and cowardice. But with three guys pushing me I ventured into the ring to find a muscular gentleman who terrified me by bouncing his biceps as he stared at me. However, I advanced as the opening bell rang and decided that running was the best defense. I'm not sure how I won that fight but it might be that he was more frightened that me. Now thats laughable! Anyway I managed to go on and win my next 14 fights and could see I was advancing to fight for the battalion championship. I tried to calm my hysterics when I realized this because the man I was to fight was built like a hydrant. Actually I had been watching him because it had become evident that he and I would clash and he had a certain set of punches--a solid left jab immediately followed by a right cross and then a vicious left hook. I learned these identifying characteristics by hearing my coach speak to his class. He only talked about them. He never suggested how I might avoid them.So here I am stepping into the ring with a former fleet sailor who incidentally had won the fleet championship. I had about as much chance in beating him as the proverbial snowball in Hell. However I had figured out that if I would counter jab at the same time as he did, he would be unable to follow through with the rest of his punches. And so it was, he jabbed as I jabbed and the two of us spent the first two rounds countering each of the others punches. Ah but then the axe fell. The bell rang ending the 2nd round and I opened my mouth to grab some air. This took place when coincidentally he was in the midst of throwing a right cross. The bell had rung and he hit me. I know he would not have done this unfairly but it happened. I walked back to my corner, sat on the stool and my coach is shouting words of encourragement and ended them by saying "Winspear, you're doing GREAT"! How do you feel"? I thought it was nice of him to finally show some concern about my well being but I answered him by trying to say in a mumbling sort of way, "I feel good but my teeth don't meeth"! It was true, the punch at the end of the round was such as to knock my jaw askew and my coach called the fight. What an ignominious end to such a glorious career. He was one tough guy and the best part was that even though I lost, at least I was not beaten from pillar to post. I had fought him even for those two rounds. On a serious note, this had been a great expeerience for me. It had taught me discipline and confidence. I learned lessons that stayed with me for the rest of my life. Do I want to fight again? Yes, if the Navy called again, I would be proud to serve my country in any way that I was able. God bless America!!

Fathers Day

2010-06-21T11:39:00.000-07:00

It took 20 years but I finally gave the talk, prepared long ago, in a church meeting yesterday. I spoke about my Dad and what he meant to me. He was a very interesting man and while I was still a child my memory is that of a funny man who could tap dance and make funny faces that would make me laugh. He had no control over the circumstances that changed his life and they were many. First of all the depression came and having a job was at the heart of whether you got by, or whether you had to call on family to help you through it. Dad was a proud man and when the bank took his $3700 home, he became despaired and sometime after that a very serious heart attack knocked him down again. Things were so bad that he and Mom had to move into the basement of Louise' parents basement. No money,no home no pride and he became a very reclusive person with only his immediate family to cling to. And cling he did and became a wonderful grandfather. I truly think that it was my children that helped him restore some semblance of personal respectability. While he loved my Mother, she alone was not sufficient to help him back on a path to the man he once was and he displayed his love for the kids by having a patience that might have been his life support. I think I may have been somewhat of a disappointment to my Father. He expected his sons to be the fix-it personality that in an earlier day, was one of his strengths. He could do ANYTHING from sewing clothes for me and my brothers to re-wiring a house if it was needed. He was a fine musician and at a younger age became an Eagle scout and won the bugling contest for the city of Rochester, N./Y. I, on the other hand had no interest in fixing things. I was into sports and enjoying the social activities of high school. However, with all his talents, he was not a demonstrative man. I don't ever recall him telling me he loved me. Still, when I entered the service and became a commissioned officer with my gold flight wings, I know he was proud of me. One night when I unexpectedly came home on leave and was talking to Mom in their darkened bedroom, he awoke and instinctively reached up, grabbed me and embraced me.That was the only time in my adult life that any demonstration of affection occurred and that one episode has been in my memory for all these years. Today, people are much more effective in professing their love for members of their family or for friends. That was not the case in the generations of yesteryear. The depression, the hunger, the war, the economic distress all added up to a need stronger than the bonds of love,---survival. And so it was. Did my Dad love me? I never had a doubt. I excused his apparent lack of affection because of these factors just mentioned. He was trying to keep a family afloat and when it was apparent that we had all survived, although he was still a recluse, he realized his sons had grown up, his grandchildren were a delight and his job was completed. He died at the age of 59. I miss him - a lot!

Memories of the long ago

2010-05-25T06:33:00.000-07:00

It was last night I stumbled onto a movie that has caused me to get up in the very early hours remembering some of the thoughts of the nostalgia of my early days. It was about baseball and I was drawn back to the days when thoughts of a career in the national game were on my mind. You know, some kids want to be firemen, soldiers or pilots. I wanted to be a ball player. At a very early age I was permitted to get on a street car which carried me to our old Offerman stadium in Buffalo N.Y. where I could sit in the bleachers and watch the Buffalo Bison' home run hitter, Ollie Carnegie, knock a horse hide ball over the distant fence or watch Greg Mulleavey turn a doube play. I was deeply impacted of what might come to pass in those days and this movie stirred my mind. Beauty McGowan used to play center field and he had such a flawless running stride that his nick name was so fitting. Yes, at that age, I knew each player, his batting average and maybe, what chewing tobacco was his favorite. I was really into the game and not only for the local team but my memory was also about many other players in the Major Leagues. I was a baseball nut! The movie had to do with a high school science teacher who doubled as the baseball coach of a mediocre team and in a peak of anger challenged them to do better. He had a reputation of being able to throw a ball at a very high speed - throwing the cheese, as it was sometimes called, and his team returned the challenge that they would try harder if he would agree to a tryout for a authentic baseball team. His age had already put him almost over the hill, certainly past the age of a rookie and thus the name of the movie, "The Rookie". So there I was with the dawn beginning to break and me deep in my memories of days gone by. I had to get up and put my thoughts on paper for sleep had fled and left me wide awake. In the final days of the movie his team had won the district championship and he was bound to attempt a tryout. In the conclusion he had become a relief pitcher for a major league team and was called to show his "heat" by striking out the hitter for the opposing team. The result was successful and he became a local hero. The movie had other poignant interests like his divorced father who had not been interested in his son's exploits or having to take his three children to the major league tryout and the ignominy of needing to change the babies dirty diaper as he was being called to the mound. The film went far into the night and while I was able to fall asleep, when I awakened, the movie reel of my mind was activated and here I am. Was I ever a really good ball player? Not really, but that doesn't stop a childs mindset of what he would like to be. However a war came along and any dreams were set aside. The irony of all the above is that this was the third time I had seen the movie but we should all acknowledge that the dreams of long ago may never come to pass nevertheless they still reside in our memories and will be there for a long as we live. May those recollections never leave us or be dismissed for they are a part of what we are today. They are a part of the days of long ago - our childhood, where dream and memories are forever.

Fishing Re-visited

2010-05-22T10:30:00.001-07:00

As we are driving Eastward, the Sun, an orange orb,is slowly rising, ahead of us and my excitement is at a peak. For we are going to fish the Atlantic and I am wondering what the day will bring. I had arrived in Orlando the evening before and Jeff and I are now en route to try our hands at rod and reel to see what the waters will hold for us. Jeff is my grandson and I found has a real passion for fishing. He used to go with his step Father, who was a commercial fisherman and had begun to take Jeff out on the water when he was a youngster--thus the passion was acquuired early on. As we begin our quest a decision had been made to fish the first day by putting heavy weights on our lines and fishing the bottom--some 150 feet. The beauty of the ocean is not only the varying sea life you could view, the porpoise, the sea turtles, the schools of Dolphin just under the surface, and we saw our share, as we felt the bottom bump of our weights hoping the next bump would be a Red Snapper or a Grouper, both of which could be in the 20-30 pound class. Pure excitement mingled with hope! It is a known fact that, indeed, hope springs eternal in the heart of a fisherman although the quest is not always rewarded with fish. On this day our hopes were dashed with only a few small finny creatures were to stir our imaginations as we pulled them up from the deep. One of things that impressed me was the line of the horizon out to the East. The sea went on forever and it seemed as though the horizon did as well. That straight line was occasionally affected by a distant vessel but it was as though a ruler in Gods hands had been the instrument used to mark his territory. And so the day ended with little to show for it--fish wise. But ah, another day would soon dawn and we would go at it again, undaunted and positive to-morrow would be different. See what I mean when I say all fishermen are of the same class-there is always tomorrow. However, I must admit that while we would use a different tactic the end result would be pretty much the same--no fish of any consequence. The weather, the ocean, the sights have all cooperated but the fish had taken some time off. I reminded Jeff that I had once visited Cape Cod several times with no luck until my host there had playfully informed me he had called all the charter fishermen to tell them to take the week-end off because I had returned to try my luck. This bit of tongue in cheek humor caused Jeff to call our time, the days of the Winspear curse!! And so it was to be. I returned home to Arizona , although a bit disappointed, my many years of fishing had brought many fruitless ventures and this was another of hope being dashed. Still, my disappointment was minor compared to several points of pleasure--being on the water, seeing the various sights, spending time with a grandson with whom I had been delinquent, seeing a family that I had hardly seen before and in general having a damn good time. This adventure which could be my last in the great outdoors.Would I do it again? Just as soon as I can pack!! Wait for me. I'll be right there.

Fishing

2010-05-08T09:23:00.001-07:00

Now this that I am going to write about will have to be written in two phases. First, to tell of the excitement I am feeling and the next will be to report on the success or lack thereof on my adventure. I have talked about fishing in the past but there is a new excitement swelling in my heart these days for I am about to embark on an old but now, new venture. One of my grandsons, living in Orlando, has invited me to join him in fishing the Atlantic ocean--no, not the whole ocean but some part lying East of Florida. And I am tripping!!! Now you would think I could contain myself having fished many places around and even beyond the confines of these United States but it has now been many years since I have ventured into the deep sea fishing variety and so by hook (pun intended) or crook, I'm going to have a go at it. I have known Jeff was a fisherman for some time but for some reason never inquired of his exploits. However, in a recent phone conversation, when he finished by saying, "Grampa, they are so big that I will have to help you pull them in". Now if that isn't enough to stir the blood of an old fisherman, I don't know what is. I have fished Northerns in Canada, Dolphins off Venezuela, Striped Bass at Cape Cod and Walleye all over this land but the thought, now, of Snappers or Groupers near Florida will be a new and hopefully successful expedition. I have to qualify my last sentence containing "hopefully" because there have been almost multiple time where I have not been sucessful in the catching of those wiley denizens of the deep. I have seen them laying on the bottom, with me literally bumping their noses with my bait with nary a bite. I have become arm weary casting for trout in fast waters all in vain. I have even done jigging in waters teeming with fish only to have an up and down experience (There's a bad pun in there if you have ever fished) but Jeff has laid down the gauntlet and I am accepting the challenge. To horse!!?? A fishing we will go!!

Leadership Lost

2010-04-26T10:07:00.004-07:00

By now most of you recognize me as a patriot; not because I served in World War 2 but because I continue to have eyes that water as the flag is presented or the sight of our young men and women marching or as the strains of the National Anthem is resounding through the land. I do not apologise for by my emotional character, contrary, I allow this mentality to be a source of recognition for all that have been killed, wounded or harmed in any of the ways that wars inflict. This past week I received an e-mail which brought into perspective ways, of which I have never been made aware--the number of brave young men and I'm sure too many women, who lie in graves all over Europe. This has primarily been the result of the second World War. I am not attempting to make a political report out of this, but rather just to bring to attention the terrible cost of war and the loss that goes beyond merely the paralyzing deaths that have occured. I think of the potential, the capabilities, the leadership that many of those lost could have provided to my beloved country. How many Einsteins, Reagans, Kennedys or Salks lie in those many burials sites? I am so deeply saddened at the thought of the parents, wives or husbands that, very likely, may still weep today at those lost. We have been accused of arrogance in parts of Europe and the far East where Iraq and Afghanistan still exact the deaths of, too many, courageous men and women.Yes, and my eyes are blurred even now as I write this. I don't know how many may read this and be aware that 104, 000 is the result of our last excursion into war torn Europe. Over 100,000 souls lie in the 20 graves that dot a distant land. Basically, much of the world treats us with distain. We have, numerically, few allies that will stand at our sides during the present conflicts and it is still the U.S. that stands the brunt of these conflicts. Is this truly arrogance? Who knows what we have lost that is more that their deaths? It is my hope, no, my prayer that in some mystical manner we may find ways to solve world problems without resorting to military acts of violence. It is also my hope that sufficient may read this text to stop and think of those who might well have lead our country in ways of peace and prosperity but for their courage in battle. May God bless them and guide us that we may be able to prevent this horror from ever happening again.

Mattydale

2010-04-16T16:38:00.004-07:00

Its as though I am in a time machine going back again to the happy days of my childhood and since my prior blog, Judson Place, I have advanced now to approximately 12 years of age. My grandparents had moved to a town on the outskirts of Syracuse and it was more in the country than they had lived before. Why did they move? I was too young to realize this was probably tramatic for them but what did a 12 year old know about such things? I was just happy to be out in the country where my Uncle Chuck had planted a fairly large garden and there was a real swimming hole on their property. Both of those things were a part of the 3 years or so in which I got to know how to hoe and how to enjoy the summer warmth. There was a golf course up the road and I discovered I could be a caddy. Most days when the hoeing was completed or the weeds were eliminated I was free to walk to the golf course. There I would hang around the pro shop hoping to carry some one's golf bag and earn .75 for 18 holes or if I was really lucky, I was given a whole buck for my efforts. Lordy me things were fine as wine --as we used to say. Mondays has been, universally, a day in which all golf courses honor their caddies by allowing them to play free as long as they wanted and so the Thornton brothers and I, two boys about my age, would carry 3 golf clubs and some broken tees and maybe a ball or two and get in at least 54 holes before darkness shut us down. They became good friends and asked me to play on their high school baseball team, where I was assigned to be the catcher. (I think it was Junior High School) I had never caught before but it was a great experience and they were very excited to see that I could throw to 2nd base and prevent the other team from stealing. I know a lot of this may sound strange to you but ask a male friend to explain some of these things. It was here where I also, through very hard work and long hours, learned to play Rachmaninoff' Prelude in C# minor--no mean accomplishment and that I reported to you in a previous blog. The swimming hole became almost a nightly visit and there was a rope hanging from the branch of an overhanging tree where you could sit on a large knot and be carried out over the water to do a flip as you released the rope--fun stuff for young boys. I grew up while I lived there I think, because my Uncle Chuck would take me to faraway places to fish, dig potatoes, or maybe pick mushrooms. I got to know how to bait a hook, care for a garden, select the correct mushrooms, and many other things that occupied my times in Mattydale. Although we were in the depths of a depression during those years, I had no understanding of the meaning of that problem. It was not a part of my life and my freedom there was unihibited. I remember those days and there are too many happy boyhood memories to tell all that I recall. Here again, were happy vacation times with grandparents and other relatives that loved me and cared about my well being. What else can a young boy have than to be surrounded by circumstances of happiness and joy. I can only wish the same for those that might read this short story of the meanderings of part of my childhood.

Judson Place

2010-04-14T12:09:00.003-07:00

I do a lot of my thinking and remembering while I am in my bed. Sleep does always stay with me throughout the night and I am too warm to get up and do something constructive and so, I think. The other night I began to think of the things of my childhood--again and my thoughts turned to the first place I recall in Syracuse, N.Y. --- the family home on Judson Place. I was no more than 6 or 7 when I think of the home I really grew to love because my grandparents were there as was my Aunt and Uncle. My grandmother was a very sweet and warm lady, and I use that word intentionally, while my grandfather was rather a sternvisaged, taciturn man , who with all his gruff exterior still would pull me on his lap to read the funnies to me. Incidentally they don't have funnies like they used to, or maybe its me having outgrown the Katzenjamma Kids. At any rate I recall my grandmother going about the house dusting and singing softly to herself. She was hard of hearing. (Now, I know that's not politically correct but its my grandmother and I can say anything I wish about her). I can't leave my thoughts about the home without mentioning Uncle Chuck; my uncle of whom I have the dearest memories; fishing, picking berries in the Adirondacks and other fun times. I loved going there and being in that family home. It was not a family home such as we are inclined to think, but it had a certain magic to a 7 year old and it was the gathering place for my Mothers' 6 siblings and their mates as well as many cousins. However, I want to dwell on the friends I developed. There was a family living in the upstairs of our home and they had a son, Jack, with whom I palled. And Billy lived across the street on Thornton Avenue also became my little buddy. I looked forward every year or each vacation period to seeing them. There was a huge hill behind Billy's house and we used to climb it regularly just to walk around the large water tower on topand then to roll down its lengthy expanse. Because of the nature of that neighborhood, there were hills in front of every house on Thornton and king of the castle became one of our games which allowed us to carry multiple grass stains home. We also played hide and seek and other classic children activities. But it is the nostalgia of the years and the manner in which my memories are impacted that is the substance and the subject of today. It was my vacatiion place for several years. The sweetness of those early years clings to my thoughts into these many years later. I hope you have memories of warm sunshine, loving grandparents and good friends as do I. There is little of value that can replace those recollections of the past.

Reminiscing

2010-03-30T10:20:00.004-07:00

Her name was Mary and I must have spoken about her in the past. It was a long time ago and I don't know what made me think of my first girlfriend. I was 16 and I walked her home from school and isn't that the way most young romances begin? She was a very personable young womn and we began a delightful relationship. I don't think she was as enamoured of me as was I with her and it wasn't really a case of true love. I guess you could characterize it as a strong friendship and we greatly enjoyed each others'company. That first day I went home with her, there were 8 other guys waiting for her on the front porch. That puts into perspective her popularity. I can remmber saying to the group of young men, "O.K. now we have a team. Lets play ball" (A reference to a baseball team for those from the heart of Texas) However, what I mainly wanted to tell you about was,not so much Mary, but her Grandfather.I met him too that first day. Grampa was a gruff old German still with a slight German accent and meeting him was rather a shock to my confidence. He first asked me "Are you a boy scout or a pup?" Thats a direct quote from 70 years ago and you think I may be losing my memory?? I replied stammering, "I'm a scout sir". Whereupon he said "Come here with me" and like a little boy I followed him into the foyer. There was a fairly large chair sitting there and it had two sturdy arms which Grampa took hold of with a strong grip. With that, he hoisted himself into the air and performed a handstand that in Olympic circles would have earned him at least a 9. Lowering himself to the floor and turning to me asked in that same gruff voice, "Can you do that?" My confidence was leaking out of me faster than a hole in a bag of sand and still stammering I replied "No sir" He muttered something under his breath and stormed away.I'm sure he felt about my generation what I sometimes feel about the generations that have followed me; they just don't make them like they used to. Well, that wasn't exactly a roaring success for me who was trying to make an impression on a young lady but Mary must have experienced that before because she was laughing as we walked into the living room. She and I spent the better part of the two years that followed until graduation together in 1940 at which point it was pretty much the end of our friendship because she went to their summer place and then off to Michigan State when fall came around whereas I had found a new friend by the name of Louise and the rest is history.

WHOLLY CREPE

2010-02-24T10:09:00.004-07:00

Wholly Crepe!
It all took place many years ago during the winter of 1962 when Louise and I left with the Bleiers for a weekend at the Wolf River Lodge, North of our home in Appleton. It was a quick decision and we were almost snowbound that February. It was my birthday month and a small quiet celebration was the main reason we ventured forth. However it was to become an event that has lasted ever since and today what was once a rarity is now common place. This is in reference to a breakfast we were served at the above mentioned B&B. Amongst the eggs and rolls, mmnn!, were a delicasy we had never before encountered. Yes, I know we were infants in the culinary efforts of the French. but here we were served crepes loaded with a blend of cream cheese and sour cream and I'm not sure what else. After breakfast and as we were looking at the snow falling, I noticed Louise was missing? Not particularly concerned except when she returned a short time later she had a small smile when I asked where she had been? The smile was somewhat enigmatic and it was not until we returned home the next day that she showed us her new breakfast delight--crepes. She had gone to the kitchen and was shown how to make crepes. Now that doesn't seem, in retrospect, such a big deal except it was the beginning of a tradition that has carried down through the years. In short, we all have loved Louise' expertise at crepe making and to-day, at least one daughter in law, Victoria, and my son Chris are striving vigorously to duplicate her kitchen successes. I can't speak knowingly about my other daughters ability but I can say with complete accuracy, we all love 'em. Vive'La France

COCOON

2010-01-26T09:30:00.002-07:00

It must be 40 years old but the movie Cocoon is still interesting for me. Years ago I thought it was a nice romantic story made up of elderly people. that by the magic of a swimming pool near their property, were transformed into vibrant, more healthy and athletic group of men and women. It was a good but unbelievable exercise in the mysticism of the Hollywood scenarios. As I watched this time, now at an age quite different than the first exposure, it takes on an entirely more spiritual theme. Now it tells of this group who are offered the opportunity to leave Earth and go to a planet called Anterian (There is a large star called Antares) There, they will lead productive lives and never be ill or tired but they will be unable to return to see their loved ones. The temptation of a more vibrant, healthier life that permits them to live forever is intriguing but as with tears rolling down my cheeks (Not a unusual experience), the idea has great deal of truth and significance. I believe that I will, one day, during my next phase, be able to live the life as expressed in the movie. I think I will have a life in the eternities and yes it holds a great appeal for me but at the same time I will leave behind all those that I love. I now must weigh the certainty of seeing again, Louise, my parents and many others that have preceded me. This conflict was such that I was in tears. I have too many here that are always in my thoughts and are the ones I love. Can I leave them knowing I will never again visit them or see them unless the possibility exists that they may be seen through my spiritual eyes. But then again the tremendous thoughts of those I will again be with is too much for this persons emotional capabilities. I have reached an age wherein this story has an expression so very different from that of years ago. Equating one age with the other while quite impossible, nevertheless gives me much food for thought. When I reach a conclusion I may write another chapter but I also may reach the end of this book of life A conundrum at best. I may have to watch the movie again to see if I can come up with an answer.

THE JANITOR

2010-01-13T15:08:00.000-07:00

In Colorado there is a magnificent organization called the Air Force Academy. It was formed shortly after WW 2 and for many years now it has been the training ground for those thousands of young men and women who are the guardians of the skies above us -- The Army Air Force. They sit at the controls of a multi-tonned aircraft and are there to protect us from our enemies. They are the graduates of that Academy.

In the halls of that organization shuffles an elderly man, head down, wearing nondescript clothing and rarely smiling or even acknowledging the many officers that briskly walk around him, hurrying to their classes and ignoring that invisible man that keeps the walls, the halls, the latrines and in general anything that needs to be maintained, in a clean, orderly manner. He is the Janitor of this vast community and his work is beyond reproach. Everywhere you look, if you take the time, is evidence of his effort to do his duty as he understands it.

No one pays any attention to him or has any appreciation for his work. After all he is the Janitor and practically hidden from their view. He just quietly goes about his duty, never complaining or even noticing those around him. One day in one of the stories told in a paper that circulates through similar industries an article is noticed by one of the young officers. It is a story of a William Anderson who had been awarded the Medal of Honor during WW2 for extreme heroism in the face of an enemy that had resulted in the single handed destruction of 3 machine gun emplacements, using only his rifle and hand grenades. What a great story!!

But wait. Isn’t that the name of the Janitor here in these buildings? Could it be? Nah! He is almost pitiful as he shuffles around, with his head down, never, looking at us, shabbily dressed with his cap askew. “Excuse me but by any chance are you the William Anderson that is the winner of the Medal of Honor?” The Janitor looks embarrassed. As he nods, his head looks off into the distance as though he doesn’t want to be noticed. But the word gets around and those that had hurried past him are now calling out “Hi Mr. Anderson, Hi Bill”.

There is a difference in the demeanor of not only those that are calling out to him in recognition of his courage, bravery and strength of duty, but Bill is beginning to straighten up, to look ahead and to appear to improve his appearance. He is not just a guy that keeps our toilets clean, he is a Medal of Honor winner and is one of only 6 men such as he, still alive from WW2 and while before he was only an in house employee, he is now a valued member of this huge community. How wonderful to finally receive some notice from these young men and women who will one day, possibly, be faced with the same challenge--to rise to the height necessary to courageously defeat an enemy threatening to destroy us. That enemy may wear different faces--the man down the street, the one running for office, the one already in office or the man at whom we have laughed. Who are the enemies of today ?

May we live with the hope that out from amidst these many enemies, there will, once again, arise a person to meet them head on-- one who, with magnificent courage, without concern for his own life, but with a duty to carry out. And in the turbulence of the world in which we now live, will there be another Janitor?

DON'T GO THERE

2010-01-09T11:35:00.005-07:00

It all began on or about December 3, 2009. IT was the fateful day in which I embarked on a couple of family matters that needed to be addressed. I am the Grand Father. Notice I separated the title to polish my own buttons although some of that may be wishful thinking. Nevertheless, in this instance I did feel, not an obligation but more of a necessity, to visit Las Vegas with a continuing stop in Minneapolis. Why? My beautiful granddaughter, Tatum, Chris and Gina’s child, was to be baptized. Now a child of eight sounds a bit odd for a baptism but in the LDS church we believe that age eight is an age where a child should know the difference between right and wrong. Thus, a baptism was to take place and Grampa wanted to be there to show his love and support for the occasion.

I arrived in the teeming city of Las Vegas and believe me the airport was in full teem with people of all description walking about. Chris met me there and as I walked into the garage it was definitely colder than was Arizona and I was wearing only a sport coat. But the car was close at hand and I was soon removed from the weather and arrived at Chris’ home several minutes later. I found that this weather was only the beginning and I quickly got into my warm-up suit and was fairly comfortable. As I said, it was only the beginning and 5 days passed with the baptism the highlight of my stay in the Sin City and the weather becoming increasingly colder.

I had a cold when I arrived and carried it with me to Minneapolis where I was greeted by my son saying “Dad you are walking into a mad house“. Wondering what that meant, I looked at him quizzically and he explained “The house is a mess. Victoria is at the hospital with Dalton who has a ruptured appendix and Dillon is walking around in a daze not having adjusted to no longer being a missionary“. And now you know the reason I went on to Minneapolis --to greet and show grandfather’s support to a young man who had given two years to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Again for those not familiar with our faith, young men and sometimes young women will give of themselves to act in the name of our Savior visiting amongst the unwashed and trying to convert them to the true faith. (Pardon a little tongue in cheek here).

By the way, the arrival of a snow storm was being shouted across the airwaves and for once, it proved to be factual. Snow was falling and by morning 5 inches of beautiful white snow coated the world. You can have it. Get me back to Arizona, a land I have grown to love. You can have greenery, water, and lush landscapes. Give me the warmth of the desert and I am happy. But not here in the North country, I began to become colder and colder. My nose was a stream and my cough resembled a barking dog--not a terrier but a full blown Danish Wolf Hound. Rudolph and his red appendage had nothing on me. Santa if you need further help, give me a call.

And so it was; a week of sitting in a chair with a heavy blanket wrapped around me and all my family laughing at my discomfort. Dillon was wonderful regaling me with tales of some of the things that made his mission not only worthwhile but successful. He is a fine young man now, not a youth, whose intentions serving the Lord have been magnified and honed to a degree of skilled service with a love of the Gospel. He is scheduled to leave for Brigham Young University in Idaho where a new adventure awaits his arrival in early January. Dalton had the necessary surgery and came home a few days later and my Amanda was always on hand to take care of her ailing Grandfather.

Me? I couldn’t wait to get on the plane and head for home. I had done my grandfatherly duties and suffered the consequences but now home was next on my agenda. C’mon sunshine! My cold gradually departed, a human form emerged and I was home. It is so nice to be back where people walk around smiling in stead of shuddering. Welcome home old man. You are safe now. Enjoy it, but know that you had the pleasure of seeing a granddaughter and a grandson take continuing steps to a better, richer life. God Bless them.

Oh, by the way. If you have an opportunity to go to Minnesota for ice fishing, or snowboarding, don’t go there. Its cold!!!

John Phillips Sousa, I ain't!

2010-01-09T10:35:00.008-07:00

Have you ever had one of those night's where sleep seems to have disappeared? Well, that was what last night was all about. I never know on the mornings which inevitably follow, whether this is a case of having indulged myself with a caffeine laden soft drink or whether I may have fallen asleep for a very short time and then awakened to realize all semblance of sleep had disappeared. So there I lay and what do I then do? Why I practised giving direction to the church mens choir group by being a most unlikely conductor for said group. Yes, I do lead them most every Sunday. I lead them in hymns of my choice for one or two verses but then get off the "stage",without any hurrahs or applause of any kind.. I managed to mentally direct those marching songs which our church has published and by whistling soundlessly melodies such as the "Thunderer" by the aforementioned Sousa and one which I learned to play in the dim, light of the past on a fife which I used to perform in a fife and drum corps. (Incidentally that word is singular and I never understood why it looks to be pronounced in the plural tense). But that is a part of my ancient history that I rather enjoyed. Returning to the songs I was humming or rather, whistling, to myself, they included "Onward Christian Soldiers",Rock of Ages, High on a Mountain Top, (All the Presbyterians must be shuddering) and I even had the temerity to try to make our National Anthem sound good in my mind. There is no song, hymn,or march, call it what you will, that I love more than the stirring tones and words of "O Say, Can You See " It brings tears to my eyes as I type this for that is the love to which my tear trigger, is least resistant. I love that music and all it stands for. Don't let a flag, a marching band or even the three that led our War back in the 1770's, pass me by. All that reminds me of the great Revolution and the ultimate war ending-battle, the fight for Fort McHenry, that was the clarion call of the war of 1812. And to sum up the lack of sleep which I suffered, I tried to lead the hymns in harmony?? Can you imagine leading music with only one voice and trying harmonize? With what or whom?? It was indeed, a hopeless task! So there you have it, my night of sleepless endeavor which lasted from about 1:30 until 4:00 at which point I realized sleep had fled my eyes and I might as well pen this reminder. It was an interesting night of music but I'm sure John Sousa lies undisturbed somewhere in the annals of the history of our country. Long may he sleep undaunted by the perplexity of what our country faces at this time but nevertheless, it is my country and my flag and long may it wave!!!

A BURBLING SCHNOOK

2010-01-05T13:59:00.003-07:00

I began singing when I was about eleven. A previous post may have given you a more detailed description of my voice had any of you chanced upon it several months ago. During my lifetime singing I was often terrible and the other times just bad. However the reason for another foray into my musical career has to do with a change that recently made all other sounds of music go from the terrible aforementioned to a cacophony that bore no resemblance to any vocal impression that has ever emanated from my body. I just finished a choir performance for the apartment complex in which I live. The short but musical rehearsal went off without a problem and I was singing in my fluid bass voice going into the room wherein the performance would take place. It was a Christmas program and of course the traditional music was sung by the choir as well as any others that wanted to join in. Thank goodness a large number joined in singing Joy to the World loudly and with boisterous enthusiasm. But wait! What did I hear or rather heard? Suddenly a new tone emerges--from my stomach. Now I must admit, with a degree of modesty, that sometimes I sound not too bad for a man of my years but this, this is “traveling from afar” and not from the same hymn by that name. My stomach is going from bass to soprano with no stops in between. I cannot hit a note as written on the music before me. Do I change and move up with the Sopranos or the Altos or do I just open my mouth and lip sync the words. I kid you not. What did I eat that engenders those noises? The people in the choir are now looking at me strangely and you can sense them moving away. But wait, I was doing O.K. in rehearsal wasn’t I? O ye of little faith, they could care less. All they know is what they hear and you may recall I mentioned the words terrible or not bad but this was a new low it was horrible and it wasn’t low. I could live with low notes but this ran the entire range from a profoundo to a coloratura and none of it was good. Fortunately at one point the lights were all dimmed so as to allow those holding electrical candles to hold them aloft which allowed me to sneak quietly away. I probably will never attempt to sing again. Can you hear the multitudes cheering? The sounds of my stomach echoed between a burbling brook, a menacing growl or maybe a distant moose call. Thus the title: A Burbling Schnook. Fortunately Christmas is almost passed and I have an entire year to redeem myself but it will demand all my will power to ever allow a sound to pass my lips.

I DID IT

2009-12-24T12:34:00.002-07:00

It finally happened and although it may not be tantamount to a crack in the Wailing Wall, or the arousal of a Sleeping Giant, nevertheless I finally wrote a letter to the Government and in consideration of my age all I should say is "It's about time!!" About time that I did more than sit in my own stew (Interestingmetaphore) and about time that my silent crtiicisms are no longer silent. What in the name of you know who is happening?? Is our Democracy going mad? And where does all this paper come from that permits the Washington idiots to press the money to pay for all that is taking place. It is more than we average people can comprehend. So I wrote to President Obama and gave him a piece of my mind and then I directed mail to the Representative for my district and then to the two Senators that are supposed to help prevent this idiocy from happening... I can't sit around and wait until 2012 or maybe even 2010 to go to the poll and vote my ire. When will there be enough men in the responsible offices to have sufficient steel gonads to call "ENOUGH"? Pardon my candor but I don't know how to say it in a more modified manner and expect our titled men of D.C to understand what I am saying.

I have never received the constancy of fury men AND women are telling about that which is taking place and it is bordering on anarchy. Has lunacy left the building?? I wish Elvis was back and at least we could have music to bellyache by. Its not only the Health Care Bill, it goes way beyond one bill no matter how screwed up it is ---and it is. It is not just the Democrats, although one would think there has to be men on that side of the aisle who can stand for something better than what is being passed off as logical legislation. And don't think the Republicans are coming out smelling sweetly over all this. They are bunch of milk toasts that can't stand up and act like responsible citizens and although they are in the minority they could make noise like a majority and cry CEASE if only to protect their jobs. And don't think they are safe! . Voting can go both ways and maybe we should give the Independents a shot at being the determinates of which way our country should go come election day.

A Tale of A Depression

2009-05-29T16:02:00.005-07:00

This may be a bit longer than I like but how do I compress a childhood into a short story? I will try to show some brevity but don't anyone plan on it. This will be primarily directed at my grandchildren and may be, more importantly, at my great grandchildren. I don't know who amongst my progeny will ever read this but it is necessary that I recite my happy days as a child for anyone to read who may be curious as to what did Grampa do during the great Depression? That question might be summarily answered by another question, what depression? Oh I remember those days but every one else was living and surviving and we didn't know any better. We had food on the table--sometimes it was oatmeal. I ate a lot of peanut butter sandwiches but so what. Everyone else was in the same boat and so again I say, what depression?? I have previously talked about some of the memories of those days but here I will put in print more of what took place beginning with me being age 7.

One of the things that stands out is the delivery men that came to our door -- some every day. A milkman came every morning and left a couple of quarts of milk. (There were no gallon containers that I remember then.) It was always fun in the winter time to see the frozen cream above the top of the milk bottle. Now, it's homogenized. An ice truck would arrive every couple of days and put a block into our "ice box" to keep our food edible. Whats a refrigerator? It was childhood fun to go out to his truck in the summer time and "steal" ice chips off the floor of his vehicle. There was a bread man that brought bread and pastries almost every day and there was an old man that had a truck and as it passed by, he was shouting "Rags,paper,pipes metal" He was the original recycler and he made his living this way. Now you must also be aware that many of the delivery people that came were in horse drawn vehicles. I can remember stories of Gramma Mary running out to the street with a shovel to collect fertilizer for her garden. Really!!

You might ask how were we entertained. Well, we didn't have TV's or computers but we did listen a lot of storie son the radio. A fire can was great fun. You found a two pound coffee can, punched a few holes in the bottom and added some paper, twigs and bits of wood, lit the paper and watched the flames begin to take affect and with the can already equipped with a strong wire, we would begin to whirl it around our heads to develop the flame. We could then begin to add larger pieces of wood, some small chunks of coal from our coal furnace and then, if you could get one, you would put in a potato to cook as you were whirling. Great fun!! Marbles was another game. Just rolling them along the curb to try to hit your opponent. We also had horse chestnuts trees in Buffalo and we made up games using the chestnuts. Of course in the winter we played a lot of street hockey with sticks that were taped with black electricians tape to prevent breakage (that seldom was effective) and we had pucks that were also taped. There was skates for rollering and skates for the ice. Of course the roller skates were secured to your shoes with a key that tightened clamps to hold them on your shoes. If you lost that key, hopefully your neighbor might have one. I never had any ice skates or a bike for that matter.

Letters were mailed with a .03 stamp, ice cream cones were .05 and bread was about .12 a loaf. Halls Bakery was at the crossing of Fillmore and Main streets and a donut or other pastries could be had for about a nickle if you went to the "yesterdays" counter. I hopped on a street car with a .08 token and rode to the baseball park and sat in the bleachers for about .15. I also was placed on a train to Syracuse at age 10 with no concerns for my safety. There were almost no mortuaries. Your deceased were buried from your home and a large black wreath hung on your door denoting the death of a family menber. There were woods only a short distance where you could go, build fires and have your potato for dinner. You might even find some weed to smoke. No, thats a different weed. Baseball or football were played in the corner lots and glass or rocks or nails were prevalent and you would determine whether to slide or not depending on the surface of the field. In football you always planned your running game over the part of the field less covered with the above deterrents. My first job was at age 13 for a 10 hour week and I was paid $2.25 every 2 weeks. Later I used broken tees to play golf. Every one did!!

In short, you made up your entertainment and there was never a time when you walked by a penny without stooping down to pick it up. I still will put one in my pocket. Yes we were in the midst of a depression but as a child it was all over our heads and all our friends were as unaware as was I. The depression lasted from about 1930 until about 1939. It began to improve about 1936 but did not fully change until 1941 when the war with Japan broke out. Yes, I was a depression child and so were all my friends and yes we all survived and were quite unaware of what all the parents were going through. And yes, those were happy days and it is my contention that we were happier then than are most kids today. It is my hope that my grand kids and greats will read this and be curious enough to ask questions of me while I am still here. There could be a lot more to tell of my days as a child during the great Depression.

It is to laugh

2009-05-19T10:34:00.007-07:00

Louise used to say she married me for my sense of humor. I hope I had a couple of other attributes that were sufficiently persuasive to have her say yes but if that is her thinking it's O.K. by me. I like to laugh and smile and do most anything indicative of being happy. So, back to humor and how I acquired an ability to get people to enjoy small instances that were worth at least a smile. I think it began as a sophomore in high school and I used to hang out with a new friend named Bernie Sandler. He was a very funny guy with an uncanny ability to make quips, witticisms or a variety of points of humor that made me laugh---not good old thigh slapping laughs, but most any kind fun type. I began to study this characteristic of Bernies and began to realize that by and large he looked at general conversation and found humor in some point. I began to emulate this and found if I worked at it I could make with the jokes too. Not that I was as good as Bernie, far from it . I was the apprentice to his tutoring. I never saw Bernie after graduation but heard he went on to become a disc jockey at a radio station. He would be great at that.

I just went on developing a small ability to make people smile. I did have a good memory to recall a joke and where they would fit into a conversation. I had the reputation and was mentioned as the "Wittiest" in our school magazine. I thought I knew other guys that deserved that title more but I'll accept it. I do feel that I had worked at this subject sufficiently hard to be almost as good as my mentor, Bernie. I never reached the point to be able to challenge Jim Moynihan. At 5:30 in the morning, he was the funniest guy I ever met. If I stayed over at his house or a motel or such, I began to laugh at him the minute his foot hit the floor and it was all a riot! Later in the day he was still making the laughable comments but not as hilarious as in the early morning.

I never liked most dirty jokes. I liked the quick and cutesy ones. My old standby that my kids have come to know is about the fellow that was half Jewish and half Japanese and on December 7 he would attack Pearl Goldstein. Most people alive today don't remember that Pearl Harbor was attacked on December 7, 1941 so I must be careful where I tell that joke and to whom. It ain't funny unless you know history!! One of my problems was that in various conversations if I heard any comments, it became an opportunity to make some quip which sometimes wasn't appreciated. I had created a monster that had control over me.

I could go on a long time throwing out jokes and such but space precludes my doing so but I can't close with out giving a greater example of what I mean by the above. When Louise was near the end, Marcie and Linda were cleaning her up and I was holding her against my chest, The girls were laughing about something and Louise weakly remarked "It sounds like you are having a party back there" at which point I said "Yes, Louise and you are the party poop" Here I am with my dear, sweet Louise on the verge of death and I have to make a comment like that. Could it be at a worse moment ? But what does Louise say? Muffled against my chest, hardly able to utter a sound, she faintly said,"Oh Jim, that's funny!!

Try To Laugh

2009-05-19T10:34:00.000-07:00

The Case of the Missing Crabs

2009-05-16T07:48:00.004-07:00

One of the best vacations we could ever have was on the waters of Puget Sound. We were with Marcie and Mike and had left their home in Issaquah to head north for a boat Mike had leased for a week of water wrest and wrelaxation. (How else can you achieve alliteration if you don't cheat?) The boat was about 35-40 feet long and Mike, although not an intrepid sailor, was at the helm and doing a very nice job of playing captain. We were heading out to visit the various island that had small villages on them and were a very interesting diversion from our mundane lives ashore. Docking at different piers that dotted those islands or finding a quiet bay in which to anchor for a peaceful night made for a peace unattainable in our normal mundane lives on shore. And while this was pure joy to me, this is about our grandson Logan who was about 14 at that time and had discovered a crab trap and was excited to try his luck. Logan was an inquisitive boy, living with Marcie at that time, and was into every moment spent ashore when ever we docked. On one of the islands he discovered a bait shop and returned to the boat with the vilest, most unbelieveably smelly stuff he had found. "Its for the trap" he exclaimed and at the first anchoring, he put this stuff in the crab trap and lowered it over the side. It was late that evening and I suggested he check the trap to see if he had had any success. It was amazing to see several crabs already in the trap with others clinging to it, but dropping off as we lifted it out of the water. Because it was late, I thought it would be a good idea to leave the crabs in the water and worry about cleaning them the next morning. That was acceptable and the trap was brought on deck and I tied, with a stout string, each entry, assuring Logan they would be put to good use the following morning He reluctantly agreed and having prepared the trap to be sure to hold the crabs captive, it was lowered back into the bay.with the 5 or 6 creatures balefully staring at us. He could hadly wait to observe his successful attempt at crab trapping and the following day we brought the trap back on board. It was empty!!! We checked to determine that all the entries were still tied and it was mystery for the ages. Thinking as hard as we could, we had no explanation as to the disappearance of Logans crabs.He was sure some of those fisherman that were in the bay had pilfered his prize and was greatly disappointed that his crabs were gone. How did it happen? What was the explanation? It was a puzzle of huge proportions and Logan was inconsolable. But he recovered quickly and set about resolving to try that night after we were again anchored. We did enjoy some of his adventures into the crab world but it was a story to never be explained. On our return to the city, I purchased a large crab, froze it, carried it back to Minnesota and gave it to Logan at Christmas time. He was delighted and took that opportunity to relive the adventure of the case of the missing crabs..

In Search of a Sea Bass

2009-05-13T06:27:00.002-07:00

Fishing has always been one of my greatest delights--well maybe not always. I used to go with Uncle Chuck when I was a child and then for many years abandoned it to make more time for girl chasing. Usually unsuccessfully, I might add. However, I finally caught the one I wanted and can now return to my theme. When I moved to Appleton my friend George got me interested and I was again acquainted with my former passion. Carrying this thought on I moved to Minneapolis where my friend Bob Johnson and I used to try to find the wiley walleye. Then I found another Bob who shared this passion. His name was Bob Flandreau and having a home on Cape Cod, he was able to exploit that passion.

He and I became business associates in New York city and during the course of our first meeting, we found out that fishing was the reason grown men giggle. We both loved talking on that subject. He used to travel from an apartment in NY to the Cape almost every weekend-- a one way trip of around 200 miles. That will possibly draw into perspective how he surrendered to his love of the water, his boat and the Cape in general. Then come Monday morning he would rise early to be back in the city by about 11:00. Almost every weekend!! His boat was a 25 footer and it was not a pleasure craft. It was geared to catch fish. I was a complete novice having only desire but little or no experience with water such as was surrounding Cape Cod. When I first went aboard his boat, (thats marine talk for getting on), I couldn't believe the number of poles he had. There must have been over 40 fishing rods and if I had looked in various areas of the boat would have found all the accountrements needed for catching fish. I was astonished. I owned 3 rods and a small tackle box.

I traveled with him on one of my trips from Minneapolis and joined him and his very pleasant and friendly wife, Beth, in their cottage and became enchanted with the aura of the Cape--its smell was unlike any atmosphere I had ever known. I couldn't wait for the next day. We rose early in the morning as dawn was breaking and proceeded down to the harbor. I noticed how the timbers to which the boat was tied rose about 10 feet above my head and wondered about that. When we returned those same timbers were now only level with my head and thus I learned about the tide. I was on my way to becoming a seaman and this from a guy that had spent 3 years in the Navy--although as a land based pilot.

It took Bob only a minute to cast off and we were headed for the deep. He was a very expansive guy although radical in some of his beliefs. (That means they were the opposite of mine.)" But we were there to talk fishing not politics and we were to have a great day on the water. We cruised along with our gear running behind. We watched for birds and when we spotted some white ones diving at the water, he explained about Terns were feeding off the small fish near the surface because the big fish were driving them up from the deep. See, some more I could file away and talk about later. I really liked this man. He was friendly and we had already formed a good business relationship but now that was expanded to a friendship I came to enjoy greatly.

Did we catch that which we were seeking? Not even close and I learned that sea fishing was no different than lake fishing. Fish only wanted to bite when it was their decision to do so. It was out of our control. But Bob was undaunted. He knew that tomorrow would be different. That's another thing about Bob and fishing. It would be better next time and there would always be another next time! I returned to the Cape with him several times and he explained to me the care needed to remove Blue fish from the hook just as the fish being demonstrated, bit his fingers and drew blood. Ouch !! We enjoyed our trips a lot. They were days spent with two guys speaking with wisdom about various philosophies of man and loving the sea and whatever fish we might catch but in truth I was there 3 times and nary a denizen of the deep joined our expedition. How unkind. But again, Bob would always say "we'll get em tomorrow". And we finally did!

It happened one grey morning with our gear following our wake that I felt a tug on my rod. That tug became an armshocking pull and I knew I had something BIG at the end of my line. Bob had shut down the engine to reduce the drag and I began cranking and the line was slipping out at about the same speed with which I was cranking. I knew there was not a lot of success involved but gradually by tightening the drag on my reel a bit of progress was being made.About 20 minutes later we landed a sizeable Sea Bass that boated out at a neat 50 pounds. It is still the largest fish I ever caught and although I fished a number of times at the Cape I never again equaled the size of my first Sea Bass.

The thing I want to emphasize is that while most of my fishing was ultimately done in Minnesota, in every instance, good weather, miserable weather, weather that sane men would not be caught dead in, fishing was the name of the game and when the game was afoot, I was excited to play. I have sat many times without a nibble. I could see them lying on the bottom and would wave a lure in front of their nose with no resultant tug on my line. Frustrating? Yes! But should anyone ask "Wanna go fishing" I'm gone!! C'mon along! You'll love it!!

Herbie,continued

2009-05-12T06:34:00.002-07:00

Some time back, I wrote an article in which I told of my menswear associations with a number of Jews who became my very good friends. Was it because I was a buyer and in a position to give them some business? Yes, initially. But as time passed by they became more than those seeking to exploit me, they became friends and the chief among them was Herbie. I gave an example of when my store announced it was closing, I received a call from Herbie and he stated I should not worry. I had a job at my current salary and I would become a neckwear salesman and he meant it. I knew I could get another job but it was these words that allowed me to have a semblance of comfort--just in case.

And so I would like to speak more on the personality of my friend. I can't describe him in this one page. Oh no, he was much more than that. Over the years he has continued to call periodically and would always announce his name by saying "Hi, Its Hoybie" That's New Yorkese for Herbie and I have always welcomed these calls because the conversations would always be dynamic with much laughter and points of interest. He could be a philosopher, a merchant, a family man or have several other identities that made him very charismatic.

I went to work for him after being terminated from Munsingwear even though I had many times previously denied any interest in joining him in business. I always said "If I go to work for you, I won't be able to continue to be your friend" But to shorten this tale, I did because he pleaded with me on the basis that his CEO had walked away and he was in need. I went to N.Y. and actually lived in his home for several months during which time I learned that I had a BIG job on my hands. My predecessor had left with a two year supply of inventory and the loans at the bank were huge. Herbie was in the depths of a serious depression and every morning I would become a cheerleader telling him "Don't show that depression to your co-workers in the mill or office--Smile!" He had invested about $250,000 of his own money and continually would tell me we were going under. He was an intense worrier and I had to continually try to pull him out of it. One example was his obsession with me learning how to make a tie. I tried to explain I had much more to do in trying to keep his company afloat than worrying about the mechanics of tie making. He wasn't happy until I walked in and told him I had learned how to make a tie. Another time involved 2400 dozen ties in our warehouse that had been ordered by Sears the previous season. The question was what to do with them. Do we insist they take them? They owned them but we did not want to damage our relationship with a huge customer like Sears. With a meeting to go over the purchases for the upcoming season I prepared a inventory of them and. against Herbie's wishes, waited for the correct time to express the problem to the buyer. He was immediately rceptive to taking them in to his warehouse except he didn't want the green colors. When Herbie and I left the office following that interchange, he said "What are we going to do with the green ties?" I exploded quietly and said "I just got rid of 2200 dozen and your only thought is what are we going to do with green! Why do you only think in negative terms?

Those are only two of several minor arguements we shared. In the 6 months I was with his company, I can't even describe the number of challenges we faced or the way we overcame them. I say "we" because in truth Herbie was such a soft hearted guy, he could never involve himself in things that might offend others. I had to terminate 46 employees that had been years with him in his factory because we had agreed to move the factory to North Cariolina. Dismissing them was something he could not handle and it fell to me to be the bad guy.

I would like to have more time to further illustrate the width and depth of Herbie's character but space prohibits this. I had 6 of the most demanding months I had ever spent being the cheerleader to lift my friend and trying to bring his business into the black. It took 7 months to bring it to a point where it was reasonably on its feet and I was gone by that time. He and I parted on very good terms but things had reached a point where my job was accomplished. We had a new sales manager. I had fired two of his main salesmen because they did nothing but sit around his N. Y. office waiting for business to walk in and in general, things were pretty healthy again. Herbie brought his son, a very bright young man, into the business and I explained, "Herbie I can work for one of you but not two of you". So, I was gone on to different things He is an atheist and a liberal Democrat while I am neither but our conversations always are lively and interesting. He came to Louise' funeral and he will most likely come to mine but isn't it nice to know that even though there are so many differences in our respective values and philosophies the point to be made clear is that through all this evolution of time, friendship is all that is important. He was practically a kid when he sold me ties those eons ago and in some ways he is still that enthusiastic kid trying to sell ties. He heads up a very successful neckwear business now and today, my life is more complete when the phone rings and I say "Hello" and a voice replies "Hi, it's Herbie!

MY FRIEND BOB

2009-05-08T14:04:00.007-07:00

I have had a penchant of writing about people whom I respected, admired or just genuinely liked. Bob Johnson was one of the above --maybe all of the above. He was married to my cousin, Barb and our family came to know them when we came to Minnesota in 1963. They opened their arms to us and our kids and we spent many very enjoyable times with them at their home but mostly at their lake place in a northern part of the state. Bob was a very interesting man-sometimes sullen or grumpy but when you knew him, this was all a sham. For some reason, he would pretend to be characterised as a uncooperative person but the minute you asked him for some form of help, he was immediately ready with his tool belt. He had been a gymnast for the University of Minnesota and there was still a semblance of his athletic body but as is the case in many of us, as his hair disappeared, his stomach seem to compensate. He might be leaning toward portly but again it meant nothing when it came to being of service for someone--possibly even a stranger. I can't tell you the many time he came to my assistance maybe in the construction of my back yard shed, my family room and sundry other things. When I needed help, he was the first one I called, no, the only one. And I was not unique! Was it his ego that propelled him to be of assistance to others? I doubt it. Under that gruff exterior he was a people person and he would always find time to be a friend. What a wonderful accolade that was. He died about two years ago and I miss him a lot! He was my fishing buddy and we managed to get in a trip to some nether region to try to catch fish for the 40 years of our relationship. He had spent about three years building the cabin I spoke of and I mean building. He was a most handy person and it didn't matter the problem, he would find a way to take care of it Carpentry, plumbing, electricity were all a part of his talents and we were the recipients of all of those at some time or other. I could go on a long time extolling his virtues or his talents but suffice it to say Minnesota will never be what it once was. In many ways Bob was the catalyst that enlightened our lives in those days that have past. Sleep well Robert, I know you are carrying your tool belt around even now.

Kermit Lives Again

2009-04-16T20:17:00.005-07:00

Some of you have recently seen the TV advertisement with the large frog in the car frightening the passengers. When I saw this I was reminded of an incident when my kids were young and a frog became a passenger in our car one Saturday afternoon. However, unlike the persons in the advertised car, I was unaware I was carrying an uninvited guest---at least uninvited by me. Our family had been visiting the family of one of my earlier girlfriends. Her parent had a large getaway home in the country and we had been guests that day at this lovely ranch away from the city noise and discomfort. One of my sons had been playing with a large frog and as we were getting ready to leave for home I asked my boy to put the frog down and let him return to the country. My son pleaded his case to be allowed to take his plaything home and I finally had to become rather firm in denying him his request. And so we took leave of our day in the country and headed for the city.

The next day as I was working around the house, Louise was in church with the girls and I went into the boys bedroom and there to my dismay, in a dresser drawer covered by a screen, and,of course,you are way ahead of me, was the frog!! Now I had been very definite in my disallowing the frog to accompany us home and my nine year old was quite aware of my feelings. So, what to do?? He was playing with other boys in the yard and I went down and called him to join me in the back room. On the way there, I picked up a board from the garage and had it in my hand as we headed into the house. Now this little boy had become somewhat of a habitual prevaricator of the truth and Father had to make a decision to nip that habit in the bud as it were. I carefully took him in my arms and explained the difference between truth versus prevarication. Following my detailed explanation, I proceeded to spank his bared bottom with the aforementioned board. I was not gentle in my ministrations to that rapidly reddening bottom and tears were flowing abundantly. My emotional state had been sufficiently assuaged and I ceased my labors. Then, holding him close to me, I again, explained the reason for this departure from my normal, implacable attitude regarding corporal punishment. I told him how much he was loved and held him until the tears stopped flowing. Was I correct in meting out this punishment? Well, I will say one thing that might seem to put the rightness of that act in its proper position. A few weeks ago, in discussing various things with my son, he mentioned he would never forget the spanking he got over his decision to secretly bring the frog home. If nothing else impacted that act he knew there was a limit to how far I could be pushed before there would be repercussions. Maybe there was a degree of success in my endeavors. Kermit lives again!!

The Case of the Lace

2009-02-22T05:21:00.002-07:00

The first meaningful position I was asked to fill was to head up the Munsingwear Mens and Boys underwear division. It was challenging because while we had a wonderful reputation in the underwear field, and even though we made a much better product, we were well behind Jockey. To give them credit, they had jumped out using their name to great advantage and we were constantly having to overcome the leading position they held. Questions arose as to how do we strengthen our reputation and become more of a leader in that field. Several innovations took place. A new colored underwear was added and I gave it the title of "Undertones" This was before Men were to become interested in wearing colored underwear and this became a new and interesting item. We also developed a brief not only colored, but in a style appealing more to the new jeans that now were worn lower on the hips than in the past. These were called "Dynamite" and were now an essential part of our broader product line. Other innovations were introduced. I had R and D develop a fabric that I wanted to add to a ski line. It was a double fabric that had the faculty of "wicking" moisture away from the body and absorbing it into the outer layer. I had several samples made up and sent them to men I knew were ski enthusiasts and have never lived down the chiding of my friend Herbie who raved about the new ski underwear in our line. I had to tell him that our Quality Control department had turned down my request to put it into production because it didn't meet our standards. Herbie claims it was the finest ski underwear he has ever worn and we missed the boat on the entire ski market. But all that aside, the diamond in the rough that I showed at one of our stockholder meetings was a shorter than ever stretchy mens brief. It had no fly, cut very low and was snug to the body and if I may use the expression, was designed to appeal to the Gay men of the day. In preparations to speak to those gathered at the stockholders meeting I had it stuck in the top breast pocket of my suit and in describing some of the new things we would be introducing in the underwear division concluded my report by pulling the lace brief out with a flourish. Literally, a gasp went through those assembled there. Flash bulbs were popping. People were laughing excitedly and it became the sensation of the moment. After the excitement died down and I had returned to my office, reporters from three newspapers all came in wanting to take my picture with our new product. It was almost laughable because I knew it would only be a very small part of our total business but it had generated enough excitement that my picture was in the trade papers. The brief was pictured with a news story and I had calls from various radio news jockeys who put me on their speakers so their audience would be made aware of this new product. All of this attention to a lacey, stretchy, garment that was NEW. The case of the lace resounded through news world and for a "brief" moment I was newsworthy. It was fun!!

The Nostalgia of Age

2009-02-18T11:45:00.003-07:00

As the continuing press of age impacts me, my sense of nostalgia closes in on my memories and I begin to think of meaningful things that took place in my life. I recall, while fairly new in a position at Munsingwear, that when I had some free time, I would go to the Return Department and look around. I noticed a large supply of salesmen samples returned with several women there working to refurbish them. . On investigating why they were being returned, I found that we gave them one third off of our wholesale price. I stated to my boss that it would save a lot of manpower if we gave the 50% off and had them keep the samples. I don't have any idea how much money was saved but it sure impressed the ladies doing the work and I was thanked for the suggestion. In that same vein, the returns were also burdened with a large supply of briefs, most of a specific style. I looked at the briefs and found that the major reason was the rubber band encased in a ribbed knit around the legs, had hardened due to hot water in the wash. This caused the hardened rubber to cut through the ribbing. They had also yellowed because of the affect of the bleach that was used. Because we sold a tremendous quantity of that style, I went to Research and Development and talked to a fellow named Reink. He was one of our resident experts on the knitting of our materials and told him about the problems I had found. Did he have any ideas on how we could eliminate the rubber band and improve the yellowing factor? He said he would get back to me and a couple of weeks later he came to my office and showed me a sample brief which now incorporated a white cotton yarn with certain quantities of Nylon and Lycra. To shorten the story I asked that he make up a few dozen so that they could be sampled and soon after distributed them to various people in the office and waited for their results. They were a smash and it gave us a big step up over our competitors. Our returns became negligible, our salesmens were very pleased to have the samples to sell at their own sample sales. Everybody was happy--the ladies in the Return Department, the salesman, the Advertising Department had a new development to shout about and of course the management began seeing an improvement in the work hours and in profits. Well, as I started out to say, my memory reminds me that, while in my new job, which had nothing to do with the Return Department, came a great learning experience and some praise, although no money, from my boss. It's one of the nice things about age, you can reflect on some successes, no matter how minor they may seem, and smile.

Childhood Memories

2008-12-18T09:39:00.003-07:00

How far back do your earliest memories go? Speaking for the author of this tome, my first days of recall were at Lake Skaneatlas, one of the New York state finger lakes, when we walked up some stone steps to cottage. That's all I remember about that but it was confirmed later that I was 3 at the time. Not bad for a guy that now has trouble remembering yesterday. Ah, the vestiges of time. I remember too, driving down this road that was filled with deep mud from tire tracks and we had trouble keep our old car from skidding to a halt. It was Warwick Avenue, our first home and I may have been 4 this time. We lived at 347 until I was 12 and I remember my Dad finishing our home . My Dad could do anything including sewing clothing for we three boys.I don't recall what the year may have been but a cannon was our 4th of July activity. We loaded it with gunpowder? and it made the loudest bang of any firecracker then available and it was wonderful. That sure woke up the neighbors!! Those days were the beginning of my dreams of a baseball career which never took place. Things like a war and marriage (not related) occurred. We played almost continuouslyfrom May through September in a a field that was strewn with rocks, glass, and other things that made sliding into a base prohibited. Those were some happy days. We weren't aware of the Depression days surrounding us. We were kids and Mom always had some form of food on the table butI took a lot of peanut butter sandwiches to school with me. And to think that today the schools offer a varied menu from which the little darlings can make a selection.

However, Christmas time is what I recall most. My dad always waited until Christmas Eve to buy our Christmas tree because they would be marked down to $1.00 and then he would spend a few hours with us helping to put on the lights and ornaments. It was not like to-day's tree in their glimmering white or blue or some colors not even describable. We always had to go to bed early because Santa would be there any minute. My younger brother Burt and I slept in the same bed and I used to have to hold him in bed from VERY early in the morning because "Santa may not have come to our house yet and we don't want to bother him". The real reason, of which we weren't aware, was that Dad was still painting the soldiers or cowboys or Hussars he had molded from the melted lead in the basement I later found out that many nights after he returned from his night job, he would go downstairs and light the stove and put on the heavy bowl in which he melted his bars of lead. Then he would arrange them in full battle dress in a regimental charge. I think he loved Christmas more than we did. Somehow our Christmases were always joyful and we always got what we wanted. Of course what we wanted were things like a yo-yo not an Intendo or fishing rod instead of an Ipod. Yes, things were different way back then.

But one thing has stayed the same. It is the celebration of the birth of our Savior. It is a time to remember that the Christ child, depicted as having been born in a barn, reigns as our Lord and Master. He stands at the head of our church and is above all the commotion that too many people think of when they think of Christmas. These days are the Holiest of Days and that knowledge is one that I will take to my grave attesting to it's truthfulness. The memories of my childhood are with me forever but as an adult I know the true meaning of this time of the year. In the words of Tiny Tim,"God bless us everyone".

A Matter of Application

2008-11-22T04:44:00.004-07:00

The economic world surrounding these days is in a state of chaos with stock brokers in all companies looking at each other and saying, with questioning looks,"Whats going on?"but I recall a day in my young life that I asked myself that same question. The war was one of the things that was going on and it was of monumental importance. I was only 18 at that time and had secured a position as a time keeper in a war production plant. It was a converted Chevy plant that was now making airplane engines. I had been hired for a 4:00 to midnight shift and had the responsibility of walking the floor with my clipboard and verifying that all the men I checked on had printed out their time cards and were, indeed, working. No one was to print out some one else's time card to indicate they were there when they weren't. I was the keeper of the gate and a position of power was mine. Somehow the word got back to the manager of the time crew that I was all finished with my work by 8:00 P.M.--only a half of my shift. How could this be? Did I actually do my job of verifying every one's presence? "Yes I did", say I with emphasis. So for my diligence, I was moved from 4:00 to 8:00 and could now follow the process to do the 2nd shift and the 3rd shift by working from 8:00 until 4:00 A.M. doubling my efforts now to accomplish greater efficiency. I was a hotdog and was recognized for the speed with which I accomplished this feat. My walk around the very large plant was to identify each man at his post and this is where a matter of application entered the picture. Practically every man working there was Polish with names of multiple syllables. i.e. Wasikowski 846927 was at his machine. There was Bunteshefski 845466 and Oh yes, I could see Bilitnikoski 844271 and so it went . I no longer had to go up to the individuals and ask them their name and their number to make sure they were on my records and therefore were working. I was learning the hundred or so men on the two shifts by merely working down the center of the plant and spot the workers as I walked. Some of the men didn't trust my eyesight or my knowledge and would leave their machine and come running after me and say "Did you get me?" "Yes, you are Eddy Paderschefski 847912". This would bring a look of consternation to his face and he would go back to his machine. And so it went with me committing to memory all these men with their difficult names let alone their numbers. Many times when I would be walking down the street I would see a man and say to Louise, "Oh there's Bill Kazanofski 845622," and she would look at me as though I was nuts. Getting back to the confusion in our economic world and the questions on who do we bail out by giving them government money, there are a lot of arguments concerning the big three- --the auto industries. I heard Michael Savage one night and he made a profound statement of vast importance. He said, "These car industries were of tremendous value when our war with Japan took place. They were the businesses that were able to, almost immediately, go into a war time mode and gear up for the huge production of war time equipment that allowed us to become the major nation that we were intended to be". The sleeping giant had, indeed, wakened! That is a major factor in what may lie ahead of us. Will we be involved in another major conflict? Quite possibly!! Where will our facilities be when we need them? Gone: Because we didn't assist them in our economic problems? It is a dilemma that can't be under estimated. I hope that our men in power will think of that in their various machinations. What does that have to do with my memorizing all those Polish names? Probably nothing except it made me realize that I was no longer in high school, just sliding by, I was now in a position where I had to think and it became a matter of application. I hope all these men chosen to lead our country out from this chaos are applying their thought processes as well.

DON'T LOSE A PIECE

2008-11-17T13:28:00.007-07:00

It seemed as though I went from puberty to marriage with a war in between. Does that sound unrealistic? Well listen to more of the same. Back during the thirties I became aware that I would graduate from High School at age 16. It's not that I was so smart, contrary, intelligence was not one of my long suits. Actually, I think my Mom faked my age so she could be rid of me and get some rest. As a result of this dilemma, I decided to take another year and graduate at 17.
There were very few jobs around and we had no money for college, so it was a proper decision with those conditions prevailing at that time. I even took another 6 months of post-graduate school so I wouldn't have to go to work. First of all that's a four letter word and I try to avoid words of that nature. I also didn't like to work any week that had a Tuesday in it. (Old joke).

The fact is I wanted to play baseball and would have spent the entire year at the school except the baseball coach came up to me one day and said, "Winspear, I under stand this is your 5th year." I said, "Thats right coach, and I'm still only 16." He replied, "Hells Bells kid, you can't play ball in your 5th year. I don't care how old you are." So much for dreams of a baseball career They finally asked me to leave school because I had exhausted every possible subject that was of an academic nature, and how many years of chorus and dramatics can you take?

Having no alternatives, I went job hunting. You need to remember jobs were not plentiful in those days, but with my outstanding acdemic background, I was able to get a job as an office boy. However, it was about this time that the rumors of war were prevelant and "defense jobs" were becoming available. I soon found greener pastures elsewhere. __I never did understand that expression. I rarely eat grass and from things I had heard, I certainly wasn't going to smoke it.

Well, suddenly Pearl Harbor happened and for a short time I allowed my patriotic fervor to overcome my natural sense of cowardice and I enlisted in the Navy Air Corp. I spent the next three years fighting the battles of Pensacola and Jacksonville and various other engagements of which only the elderly might be aware. During the last year and after skillfully avoiding any semblance of dangerous duty, I found myself in a wedding procession with me in the lead role. (A natural for me considering my five and one half years of dramatic training). Would you believe there were so few men left at home that I didn't even know members of my wedding party. (True) I wouldn't change one moment of my earlier days---they were great!

But God makes a great big jigsaw puzzle out of each of our lives and we face the question of placing each piece in its proper place. We have the privilege of making each day another perfect fit in our own personal jigsaw puzzle. Being the masters of our destiny, ours is the right to make the correct decisions. With our ever growing knowledge that God will help us make the proper placement, we can create a beautiful play with ourselves as the main characters in this drama. Make the correct decision regarding your lives and you will never lose a piece.

MY BEST FRIEND

2008-11-14T19:08:00.003-07:00

I have spoken before about the good friends that I have been fortunate enough to have but of them all, Nick is really my best friend. It all happened on a tennis court playing with Paul. It seemed each week when we scheduled our game we were placed on the court adjacent to two other guys. After several weeks in which we were friendly enough to exchange greetings, one of them came to my locker row and asked, "How much tennis are you playing"? I replied, "only once a week". He then said, "well, my name is Nick Camm and I would like to play once a week with you". To make a long story somewhat shorter, I agreed and we began to play. Now as it turned out, I found his favorite expression after I hit the ball was to shout "OUT"! It became my favorite jibe at him on many occasions. Of course the ball wasn't out. It could be in the middle of the court and if he knew he couldn't return it---- "OUT"!

He turned out to be a very friendly person with a great sense of humor who laughed at almost everything I said. I could have said "I have a large boil on my butt" and he would think it hilarious. But that was his personality. Everything was funny to him. He became my best audience for my humor and my jokes. As a matter of fact, I could tell him a joke and he would laugh. I could tell him the same story two days later and he would laugh some more as though he had never heard the joke. Either I was a poor teller of tales, or he had a bad memory or maybe he just liked to laugh. I think that was the case and I went on telling stories and he kept laughing. He and I and two other guys also played golf, and Nick, who was older than the rest of us would tee off from the Ladies tee. He would also put a tee in the ground each time he hit the ball except of course on the green. It was a constant time of ragging on each other with Nick catching most of the flak. He loved it. He used to brag that he had shot an 80 at a tournament on a different course which, with his handicap gave him a net 60. Of course it was the low score of the day. We never accepted that as a fact. We just kept saying, "You never shot an 80 in your life".

One day he even found the score card from that tournament and we said, "No way! You went to the course and got one of their cards and faked your score." It drove him crazy but he laughed at all of our digging and was fun to play with. He had a habit which drove me nuts, to go up to people he didn't know and they instantly started laughing. What did he say? Who knows? But they were laughing. I was saying, "C'mon Nick lets go", but he never paid any attention to me. He was on center stage and he was milking it for all he could get. Nick would go up to people in a theater and ask if he could have their popcorn and they laughed and offered it to him.

I could go on a long time talking about my best friend. He was a Jew and the two of us made an interesting couple. The Jew and the Mormon! But Nick is no longer the man he was. He is living in a facility and stays in his room and naps or watches TV. The man was the most gregarious person I have ever known. He only laughs when I call him, and when he does I laugh with him. I miss him a lot and always go get him when I go back to Minnesota and we enjoy our relationship. He is 93 now and the spark he once had is fading, but each time I call him when I hang up I always give him one more shout "OUT' and he laughs!!

NO FINER MAN

2008-11-13T17:57:00.004-07:00

It has been my privilege to know many fine men during my activity in our church but none have been finer than the man I came to recognize as my mentor. My first real acquaintance was when, at the eve of a conference, he had Louise and I meet him at his office. He was the of head our multi-unit (Stake) and he asked that I become his clerk. At that time my experience in the church was somewhat limited and I asked what my duties would entail. After his explanation, I replied, "I can't type and my hand writing is terrible. I have little or no knowledge of accounting and my church experience is quite limited, but if none of that bothers you, I'll take the job". His reply was a phrase I came to use often in some of my other positions ---"Well, look at all you will be able to learn". He was obviously a more skilled negotiator than was I.

Strangely, it was in a club shower room that I came to know him very well. I was giving up racquet ball and had decided to learn to play tennis and when I mentioned this to him, he said "I'll be glad to play tennis with you". That was the beginning of a friendship that went on for several years and we played tennis every week over that period. During some of my later positions in the church he and I would sit following our game and I would tell him of some of the obstacles I was facing He would advise me on possible solutions. This was a practice that lasted for a long time. It was during these and other meetings in which I was included that I came to fully appreciate his leadership qualities.

I knew him as a friend but under certain conditions he came forth as a man of deep devotion to his position as a leader of his large group of congregations. I would sit in these meetings taking minutes and was rewarded with getting to know the other two councilors that were his associates, Everette Manwaring and Alan Anderson. The three of them were magnificent in their endeavors to lead the aforementioned congregations and I was the recipient of their combined knowledge and efforts. These qualities brought about an organization that remained unequaled for many years, In particular, Paul Wilson led with a calm, experienced hand. He was a man of honesty, integrity and industry. He had a love of his family that, while his demeanor was sometimes very reserved, was the catalyst that allowed him to be such a great leader. To some, less knowledgeable of these qualities than was I, he may have appeared almost embarrassed to stand forth as the head of this large group of congregations, but to those of us who had come to know him, he was admired and respected. I am honored to call Paul Wilson my friend and my mentor as well as my spiritual leader. I have known and been acquainted with many men having most of the qualities mentioned before, but in my estimation there was no finer man than President Paul Wilson.

Do I or Do I not

2008-11-07T18:36:00.005-07:00

Back in the late 80's, I was called to be a Bishop in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints--most often simply called the Mormons. This was quite a demanding but a very rewarding position. Most of the wards (congregations) were in the suburbs but because my ward met in the city of Minneapolis, it was decided to also call me to be the "Transient Bishop". That meant all those new to the city who called for some assistance were referred to me and I would determine what kind of assistance they would receive. My telephone rang a lot!

To determine the extent of help we (the church) would ask questions like "What ward are you from? Who is your Bishop?" If I got an answer to either of those questions I would call that Bishop to determine whether to assist. In truth, most of the time the caller didn't know what ward he or she was from or who the Bishop was and I knew I was dealing with an inactive member or quite possibly not a member. Was this a person trying to milk the system? Many times the answer to that last question was--- yes. I was close to the Bus Station and therefore it made sense to assign this calling to a person best suited to handle the transient persons coming into town. As I said before, I received a lot of phone calls in the 7 years I had this assignment.

Unfortunately most of the calls, as they were screened, were from callers trying to get a free ride and when I asked pertinent questions they realized I was not going to assist them without some basis of their standing in the church records. Many times I purchased a lot of tanks of gas or bags of groceries and sent them on their way. To some however, it may have meant paying the first and last months rent for an apartment they were planning to rent. Obviously this called for something more than a phone call.

I remember one woman who pleaded with me to help her and her three kids. The landlord was waiting for my affirmation and he would know that the church was a secure risk and would therefor proceed with the rental. After doing more than accept the word of this unknown person, it turned out she had 7 children not the 3 she had told the landlord. She also was an inactive member and could not give the name of someone who would recommend her. I was sorry but it was apparently necessary to refuse her the help she needed.

Decisions of when to help and when not to were the most difficult problems I faced during that 7 years. But sometimes the person calling, when realizing I would not be a patsy would just hang up thus making my decision easier. I recall one young sounding woman after being asked pertinent questions merely said "Oh take a hike." I loved it!! She just wanted a handout but wasn't going to be pinned down. Louise would take the calls many times and had become quite learned in the ways to interview the callers. One, when asked his position in the church, the query from Louise was "Are you a Seventy?" ( this was a standard calling some members had at that time) The caller replied "I am about a Sixty". There is no such calling in the church and of course this person was not in a position to receive some assistance. And thus it was for the several years I had this calling---do I help or do I not. I have many times asked myself, what would the Savior do? That only complicated my resolve more and the dilemmas were many. I had the authority to spend church's money in any way I felt reasonable. Ah yes, but what was reasonable? That was the question, and for the years it was my responsibility to make those decisions, every situation was different and those difficulties were never simple. Judging the goodness of people has never been easy, but as the only judge, I was continuously faced with "do I or do I not"? I never found the answer!

THE FLIGHT OF AN EGO

2008-10-13T19:35:00.000-07:00

I had previously written that my store was going out of business and I was in the process of being granted interviews by various prospective employers. One of these would be with a gentleman from Lincoln, Nebraska. I knew little about the retail picture in that city but an interview was not to be over looked so I presented myself at the appointed time at his hotel in New York City. He greeted me saying, "Mr. Winspear I have nothing to offer you but I agreed to this time so that possibly the interview experience might be of some future value". I smiled and said, "I am pleased to meet with you". We went into his suite and sitting on opposite couches began to talk. We spent well over an hour in which he asked questions about my retail buying philosophies, my knowledge of the present menswear market and my other thoughts of things in general. It was an easy, informal discussion with me doing a lot of the talking. As I was departing he asked me to give him some references of manufacturers with whom I was acquainted. I mentioned three or four, including Munsingwear--my major underwear supplier at the store for which I had worked prior to its demise.

I returned to my hotel and hurried through my entry hearing my phone ringing. It was the office of Munsingwear and an acquaintance of mine, again from my previous store, stated, "Jim that's a wonderful job you are being offered by ....", and he named the person with whom I had just interviewed. I replied "What job? I wasn't offered a job". My friend Curt, then went on to say, "When I took the call at the office a Bob Gold told me he was the president of a company in Lincoln and he had just finished speaking with a Mr. Winspear. How well did I know Jim"? Curt replied, I told him I had known you for several years and that you were a man of integrity and a hard, productive worker. At this point he went on to tell me Mr. Gold is planning on hiring you as his administrative assistant to assist him in running his store. Curt concluded by congratulating me on my new position. I hung up rather confused because there had not been one indication of any opportunity in his business.

While mulling this over the phone rang again and a voice said, "Jim this is Bob Gold and I would like to offer you a position in my company as my personal assistant. Please give this some priority in your other interviews as I am very serious"! I was a bit numb at this point but he further stated he was headed for the Cayman Islands but would contact me immediately on his return to conclude his offer with the minor details, such as moving my family, salary and other inconsequentials.

I was still numb and wondered how all this had come about when I finally realized that I, Jim Winspear, had taken a guy who said he had nothing to offer me to a point that he now wanted me to assist him in managing his company. And that's when my ego soared to a height never before imagined. I thought to myself, "Damn!! Jim, you are good"!! Well, after bathing myself in accolades and expressions of wonder, I came to earth and knew I would be on pins and needles waiting to hear the conclusion he would present to me the following week. To return to my normal posture of allowing me to refer to myself as "Mr. Wonderful", the following week I did receive a phone call from him and I became rather deflated when he told me he had to take back his offer. It appeared he was the president, but his father was the chairman and had sold the store while he was on vacation. Weird? Outlandish? Unreal? Yes, all of the above. And so I never went to Lincoln and I never was to be an assistant to the president. But they can't take away the time I always remembered as my flight to that incredible high I never before thought to be attainable. I had talked him into it!!!

SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS

2008-10-13T19:33:00.000-07:00

After leaving the military, I became a menswear Maven. That's a Jewish expression for "expert". Oh, it didn't happen all at once, but as some time passed it became apparent I was destined to be in Men's clothing in one form or another. But that is not the story I want to talk about at this time. My story is my relationship with the Jewish people. As I became a buyer of Menswear, I quickly was closely tied to various Jews. That was the business they were in and I soon got to know Sid, Manny, Charlie and Hoybie. (That's N.Y. for Herbie) That is only a few I grew to like and with whom I did business. There really isn't much difference between a New York Jew and a mid-western Jew except in a form of speech or other mannerisms that we all have. Example: I invited a young man in my Wisconsin store to come and look at a certain vendor's neck wear. He demurred, saying, "I don't like him. He's a New York Jew". Now Danny is Jewish and so this surprised me but I went on to say I needed some help in making a selection. I really didn't, but it was a means of encouraging him and to allow him to see the geographical difference is minor. To shorten the story, several weeks later, when this particular vendor was due back in my store, I mentioned to Danny that he was coming back and I now was surprised to hear him say, "Yes I know. He is staying at my home while he is here". So from --I don't like him, to having him in your home was certainly a quick transition. And that was the big difference; you had to get to know them. Isn't this true of all people?
However I want to speak mostly of Herbie. He was not only a character in many ways but he was one of the best friends I could ever hope to have. When my store was announced it was gong out of business. Herbie was on the phone to me saying, "I don't want you to worry. I will hire you right now selling ties and I will pay you what you are being paid at your present job". Did that alleviate some distress on my part? Well, yes, but only because of his generosity and his concern. I was very confident I could get another job. Over the years I have received phone calls from Herbie about every 8 or 9 weeks. In all of those he has asked me to go to work for him and I have resisted, saying, "Herbie you are a friend of mine. If I go to work for you, we can't be friends". His attitude and the questions of all those and others as mentioned above, was typical. Were they concerned, they would no longer be able to do business with me. In part, yes but basically I was their friend and they were mine. After being terminated from my position at a major menswear business, Herbie was on the phone saying, "Come work for me". While I again resisted, in a year, without having been interviewed, I finally broke down when he said, "Jim, I need you. My CEO just left me and I need someone with your experience and stature". And so I went to work for Herbie but that's a story for another day. To summarize this tale , I still get a call from Herbie asking how I feel ? Do I need anything? While it is now more like every three months he calls, yet the bond of friendship was not lessened when I worked for him and it has continued through these many years. I pick up the phone and say hello and hear "Hi, its Hoybie"

A MATTER OF INTEGRITY

2008-10-01T14:28:00.003-07:00

A number of years ago, the department store for which I had worked for thirteen years had announced it was going out of business and it was a blow to all the employees as well as a large number of our customers. We had been in the city of Buffalo, N.Y. for over 100 years. As a buyer of the largest menswear department in the city, I had many offers for positions elsewhere. Among the jobs I considered was in a Baltimore store called Stewarts. I had gone down there to be interviewed by a Mr. Davidoff. I entered his office at the appointed time and we exchanged handshakes. He explained he had to go to a meeting and asked me to look over other men's departments in the downtown area and come back with my opinion. I did so and returning, boldly stated "You don't have any strong menswear here in the city" He was surprised but I told him the reason for my bluntness. "There are three very strong pieces of apparel in the men's market at this time and they are etc" The result of me voicing this opinion impressed him and he offered me a job. I was to be hired to buy only the sportswear half of their present department and the current buyer, a man I knew from market conventions, would continue to buy only the furnishings. That, in part, consisted of the underwear, pajamas, hosiery and such. I explained I was very impressed with the opportunity but would like to first see other offers that had been made but I would give him my answer by December 5. We were in the heart of our Christmas business and I also felt an obligation to still do the best possible for my present employer. That may sound too charitable considering we were to be out of a job in the near future. However, the store had been good to me and that was my attitude in spite of what the future had to offer. About three weeks passed and on the 5th of December, I received a call from Mr Davidoff asking if I was ready to join the Stewart Company. I hesitated for a few moments and then said,"Mr Davidoff, I have been thinking about your offer and am sorry, but, I don't think this job is for me." He was surprised, as my former reaction had been quite positive. I went on to say, "I know your present buyer and he is a nice man. I can't see myself working along side of him, going to market, going to lunch with him, possibly being in his home and knowing that if I prove to be as competent as you think I will be, you will dismiss him and give me the entire department". There was few seconds of silence and he agreed that is what would take place. He then went on to say "So what. If its not you it will be someone else". I then said,"I guess I'm an altruist. Let it be someone else. That's not my style. I can't work like that knowing I will be putting a knife in a friend of mine"!! As it turned out, I took a position with a company in Wisconsin and the three years that followed were the best years my family ever enjoyed. Was I blessed in some way for what I considered the honorable thing to do? I don't know. But it sure had a happy ending!

A CLEANER WINDSHIELD

2008-09-18T05:59:00.005-07:00

There is a two lane road that links the New York State Freeway (never knew why it was called Free-way?), and the Ohio Turnpike and we were on it at 6:00 A.M. on our way to Utah with our family. These were the days when station wagons were the Suv' s of today and Louise and the two girls were sleeping in the back on my sponge rubber mattress. Rand, age 8 was in the passenger seat and Joel, age 3 was standing between us. I was driving madly down this empty road trying to be in the Cleveland area by early morning. As a result, my attention was concentrated on driving fast with eyes only on the road. At this time, Joel the younger, chose to announce "I have to pee-pee". Loathe to waste any time, a particularly strong foible of mine, you know, you can only go to the John when we stop for gas, type of attitude. I responded without taking my eyes off the road,"Rand, get the mayonnaise jar out from beneath the seat". After it's procurement, Joel begins to dutifully urinate into the jar all the while standing on the seat. Obviously these were days before seat belts were in order. I am still proceeding at a fast rate when Rand complains "Dad, its getting near the top". Taking a quick glance I reply, with confidence, "Oh that little guy can't fill that jar". For some unknown reason, Rand begins to lift the jar as though that will shut off the water flow and as it gets higher, Joel's little penis is being lifted over the top of the jar. Fire hoses are known not to have as much pressure as Joel had developed and not only is there a pressurized stream flying over the top of the jar, and not only is the stream, flying over the dashboard, it is hitting the inside of the windshield with a vengeance. Water is cascading down the glass and flowing over the dashboard and I am collapsing with the humor of the situation. Oh for a video camera. Here we are in the quiet of the early morning, with the only noise emanating from the car's engine, except in the cars interior there is the distinctive noise made by lawn sprinklers. I have lived these many years but the recollection of that bit of hilarity has never left my memory and sadly, Louise was never witness to it. But look on the bright side. I have had continuous laughter that has lasted a life time, plus I had a sparkling, clear windshield.

MOYNSIE #2

2008-09-14T07:53:00.007-07:00

About a year ago I wrote a post about Jim Moynihan, a Catholic character and my best friend. Why was he my best friend? Good question. He had a fascination for irritating others. His cynical nature was always at the top of his personality and, as I said before, he managed to alienate the 5 other couples that comprised our social group. He was left with me, his circle of friend.

I used that sarcasm when he and Kay arrived late one night and he stated he had hurt the feelings of one of our couples. He took great delight in admitting this. All the things I have mentioned makes one stop and wonder, "And he was your best friend"? Strangely he was, and I previously stated that I loved him. So therein lies a question not easily answered. I guess if I had to sum it up, it lies in his great sense of humor and my ability to be almost equally amusing whenever we were together. His family moved at the end of the same street where we had purchased our first home. I would look down to the end of the street and if I saw cars I would call him and pretend to be hurt because we hadn't been invited. It was part of the act we put on.

He was the master of conflict of interests. He had graduated law school --2nd in his class I might add, (his brother was first) and was working for an insurance company as an adjuster. He would go to the scenes of automobile accidents and give his card to both parties and in many cases act as the attorney for both of the principles. As a result he became quite wealthy very rapidly. Unsavory and unreal ? Yes, but the two different insurance companies never caught on for a period of time sufficient for him to not only make a lot of money but to build a client base that went on forever. Conflict of interest ? Of course!! That demonstrates somewhat of a nefarious character, but you must admit it also speaks to an effective result. It was not against the law, but somewhat the crossing of a thin line.

As to his humor he was at his peak at about 5:30 in the morning and I have never known anyone that was instantly funny as he rose from his bed. The times I stayed overnight or that we traveled together made for deliciously humorous mornings. As an illustration of his wit, we played golf one day and acting the part of a pawn, I mentioned to him when I saw a white round piece of dog poop. I pretended to act as though it was my ball and we both laughed. That evening after dinner at his home with the foursome that played and their wives, he parlayed my white (?) ball into a full blown dissertation about how dumb I had to have been to think that was my golf ball. It went on for a full 10 minutes while he extolled the humor of the situation. I could go on a long time about his questionable virtues but suffice it to say I was the butt of many of his remarks. But I gave as good as I got and in the end that was what he enjoyed. Trying not to patronize myself it was this that set me apart from other people he met. and it was this that solidified our friendship. We fed off of each other and it sure made for fun times when we were together.

He died of pancreatic cancer in South Carolina where he had retired following his divorce from Kay. I had a call one night from his second wife and she said, "If you want to see him you had better get here quick". I arrived that night fairly late and the hospital was dark and quiet. As I entered his room he was awake and in his inimitable manner said to me, "Can you imagine all this fuss over a hang nail". I guess he epitomized the phrase "Always leave them laughing" and while I laugh at the thought of him, there is a lump in my throat for what we could have shared these many years he has been gone. Moynsie, my faith tells me we will share some other times in another chapter. The book on the two of us is not yet closed. Be well my friend.

WORDS OF WONDER

2008-09-06T16:03:00.004-07:00

In the wintry days of Minnesota, we were fortunate enough to have two weeks in a lovely beach front condo at St. Augustine, Florida and we were returning from our days in the sun when we stopped at a motel outside of Cleveland, Ohio. For some reason I was feeling somewhat ill and as the evening proceeded, I had some weird feelings I couldn't remember ever having before. I couldn't put a label on what was wrong but along about 11:00 I was on the verge of calling the front desk and telling them I wanted an ambulance. However, I withstood this urge and finally went to sleep somewhere in the wee hours. My feelings had not disappeared but sleep over came me and I awoke the next morning with the affliction having disappeared. We continued on our way towards Minneapolis but I wanted to talk about the lesson I had learned the previous evening. So I said to Louise. "Honey you know I was feeling pretty bad last night and came close to calling for an ambulance". She didn't say anything by way of a reply and I continued, "You need to know what to do if I should have a heart attack". This time she replied, "I don't want to talk about it"! I was somewhat stunned by what I considered a cavalier attitude about a most serious subject. I am now a bit irritated and tried to introduce some words that might dispel that attitude by saying, "Hey honey, this might be a matter of life or death". I then added a little emphasis by saying "MY life or death "!!! Without looking at me she again added her own emphasis, "I don't want to talk about it". I said, "Do you mean that if I am lying on the floor of our living room in the throes of chest pains you plan on sitting there watching me not knowing what to do"?? She quietly once again stated "I don't want to talk about it". And that ended that conversation, but I have worked hard to have a heart attack. I think I deserve one and have always been befuddled by her lack of response knowing that when I have it, she will not know what to do. Fortunately, I am now well beyond that conversation but as the melody lingers on I recall her words of wonder.

INVICTUS

2008-09-06T15:23:00.003-07:00

In the long ago days of my youth, the high school I attended in Buffalo N.Y. had assemblies every week and one of the highlights of that was group singing. All of those students assembled would join in various songs. I remember "The Bells of St. Marys " is one we sang with much gusto, but the one that has been a part of my being is a poem by Edgar Allen Poe that had been set to music. To help my readers better understand where I am going with this, I have to write it out although not in stanza form. Here goes:

"Out of the night that covers me, Black as a pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever Gods may be, for my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance, I have not winced or cried aloud, Under the bludgeoning of chance, my head is bloody but unbowed. It matters not how strait the gate, how charged with punishment the scroll, I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul".

That sounds a little heavy for a bunch of high school students but as I said, we made a lot of noise singing that. But to explain the reason I am writing this is, in a manner of speaking, that has been my mantra throughout my life. I know that sounds as though I am patronizing myself, but I, seriously, tried to keep my life in control at all times. I adopted that thinking when I was in the Navy and faced some difficult times. Remaining confident of my abilities, helped me to overcome some of those times. I always told myself that during the most trying of days, everything would work out for the best. No matter how dark the situation, there would be the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. I'm sure old Edgar never thought of the manner in which I adopted his poem but it worked for me and I have remembered his words for sixty-eight years. Thanks Mr. Poe. You have meant a lot to me.

GETTING OUT OF LA

2008-09-04T11:20:00.002-07:00

In October of 1945, the Japanese had been defeated and thousands upon thousands were being discharged from the many military organizations. So it was with me. I had gone into the Navy base in San Diego and found out that I had enough points to be released from active duty. That was a time of mixed emotions. Here I had spent 3 years learning my trade and now I would be unable to determine if I had learned it accurately. Oh, the flying of an airplane was not the greatest test, it was being over the Pacific Ocean and not knowing exactly where you were. You could be one degree and miss an island by several miles ---with nothing but ocean out in front of you. Navigation in those days was using a sextant to "shoot " the stars, guess what your ground speed was and having other very difficult aids to determine your position. However , it was a time to go home, be a husband and a father and learn a new trade--earning a living. Ah, but there is a problem. We were amongst those thousands I spoke of and how do we get back to our homes. I was with two of my buddies and we, somehow, got to Los Angeles where we needed a place to stay. Entering the first hotel we came to, I noticed a long line of other military people hoping they had reservations. In some kind of a slick move I found myself at the desk saying "This probably a stupid question but any chance you have a room for three of us"? He looked me and the other two Navy guys and said "Will you take a sample room"? I didn't know what a sample room was but I said "Of course". Wow! How easy was that? And we proceeded to the sample room which turned out to be a large room with four beds and tables set up for salesmen to display their goods. It had a bathroom with a shower and we were in Heaven. Ah, but now the trouble began. I started calling train stations, bus stations, any type of transportation that would allow us to leave L.A. All to no avail!! We were stuck. I called Louise to tell her, and I could tell by the tone of her voice she was skeptical of our inability to get out of town. "Honest honey, we're stuck". So O.K. L.A. isn't the the worst place in the world to be stuck but we were now anxious to get home and go about resuming our duties in a family. We did a little touring, a little visiting places we had never been to and, in general, accepting our plight as best we could. Somehow the word got out that we had bought flowers for the hotel floor ladies. In those days there were ladies that sat at a desk to be sure the people going into the rooms were indeed guests of the hotel. It seems that often ladies of the evening were known to attempt to go to a room. Can you imagine? 5 days late, after continuing to call the various forms of transportation, we were informed by the bus company that if two of us would stand until there was an empty seat they would sell us tickets to go east on a bus. We jumped at the offer and made plans. There were now four of us and we were all going to the Midwest except I was going to Buffalo N.Y. But stand we did, taking turns so that we rotated all the way to the eastern part of New Mexico. In Chicago we all took different trains to different cities and I parted, teary eyed, from the three guys I had been so very close to for most of three years. It was difficult and Louise never did fully believe the difficulty I had leaving L.A.Maybe when I get to the next page, I will be able to convince her. After all who could possibly lie in Heaven?

THE TEETH THAT DROPPED

2008-09-04T11:12:00.003-07:00

It seems that I can remember the things of long ago better than what took place yesterday. Incidentally, what did take place yesterday? At any rate in the long ago time of my youth, I had a job at my former grammar school and the custodian in charge of the refurbishing of the school made the mistake of giving me Jimmie Gassman as my work partner. Do you remember that schools of that era had very high classroom windows and Jimmie and I each had a tall ladder that allowed us to clean way up there. However, my new friend had a great sense of humor and could do tricks like blowing across his flattened hand as it was placed edgewise over his mouth. He then would imitate the deep sound of the ships horn and it was funny because of his hand and face positions as well as the sound that floated across the school room. Mr Durr, our friendly custodian came in at the wrong moment as Jimmie was blowing and I was laughing. Mr Durr was upset that these two clowns, instead of working, were playing around. So he let us have it and we were soundly chastised. He left and our laughter soon continued. At a later time --possibly 30 minutes, we were again engaged in some side splitting laughter when our not so friendly custodian re-entered the room. We were in the same positions as before but possibly laughing even harder. Irate could not be strong enough to describe Mr Durr. His face blew out of shape. His bald head quivered with rage. His eyes became malevolent slits. Anger was a polite word that could not possible describe his mood. Words would not come out in the manner he wished and as that happened his rage escalated even more. Desperate to spit out his words, he was finally reduced to dropping his teeth into his hand so he could have control of the words needed to scream at us. Seeing this we could not hold back any further and both of us practically fell off our ladders at this display. Yes, we no longer had to worry about working at the school. He finally, after all kinds of language my tender ears had never even heard, managed to get enough control to shout "You are both fired"!!! We were still laughing as we walked out. I never saw Jimmie Gassman again although I, too, will demonstrate a ships horn on occasion, and have often wondered if his memory of that summer job is the same as is mine and we can still laugh. I'm sure Mr Durr is long dead and I have often had some regret about our irresponsible action but in the minds of 14 year old kids, it was very funny.