An Irish Tale

A man retires and moves to small village in Ireland. He finds the local pub and goes in every night. And he always orders three beers at the same time.

After a few weeks the publican says to him, "I can pour them fresh, separately each time and they will taste better."

The man says, "No, this is a family tradition. I have two brothers and whenever we drink, even if we're alone we drink together. And I guarantee you wherever they are tonight if they're drinking they're doing the same." The pulican says what a lovely tradition it is and things go on as usual for about 3 months.

One night the man walks in and orders only two beers. The word goes out to the village and though no one wants to ask the obvious question, anonymous flowers start arriving for him at the pub. The whole town appears to be in mourning, and the man finally asks what all the fuss is about.

The publican tells him, Well, we saw you're  only ordering  2 beers now, and if you wouldn't consider it prying, can we ask which brother has passed away?"

The man replies, "Oh, that? Me brothers are both fine. But I've given up the drink."

"The Thin Man" with William Powell and Myrna Loy (1936)

Looking for a good New Year’s Day with a little bit of a twist? Look no further than this one. "The Thin Man" is the type of "whodunits" that seldom get made these days. William Powell; impeccably dressed, as always; plays Nick Charles, a former playboy-detective who marries Myrna Loy, who plays Nora Charles; his wife. He has retired from the "detecting" business in order to "keep an eye on my wife's money."

When Mr. and Mrs. Charles arrive in New York just in time for the holidays, the last thing on their minds is to become involved in solving the murder of an old friend, Professor Wynatt. But with the press hounding him, and a wife who wants to see her famous husband in action, there is not much hope in evading the inevitable, as Mr. Charles drinks his way to solving the crime.

Loaded with character actors, the faces of whom you will instantly recognize the film is fast paced and the dialogue witty. Nick and Nora are perfect as they romp their way through the holidays, culminating their investigation with an elegant dinner party, during which the killer is finally exposed. With the case wrapped up in time for New Year’s Eve, the couple happily boards the train for the return trip to San Francisco, and their next escapade.

Long the most admired of the many duos that have played the part of Nick and Nora, both in Hollywood and on TV, William Powell and Myrna Loy have that certain screen chemistry that will make you think they are really married. And with a script based on the novel by Dashiell Hammett, what more could you ask for.

"Public Apology" by David Bry (2013)

This may be one of the most unusual books I have ever read. Based, as it is, on the premise that we all go through life offending other people, sometimes without knowing it, the author takes the reader on a tour de force of all the misgivings he has stored up in his life. The subtitle of the book is “In Which a Man Grapples with a Lifetime of Regret, One Incident at a Time.”

And that’s a fairly accurate description of this sometimes hilarious, and other times revealing look at not only the authors most embarrassing moments, but also a reminder to us all of the times we have done, or said, stupid things which we wish we could take back.

Beginning with Junior High School, which is where most of us begin to experience these awkward moments, and on through early adulthood, Mr. Bry has a fascinating array of embarrassing moments to draw upon for your entertainment.

Ranging from unintended insults to missed romantic opportunities, and even encompassing some public mooning on a cable car in California, Mr. Bry attempts to apologize to everyone he may have offended; or embarrassed; in his lifetime. Some are named outright, as are the stories of misadventure during his junior high school years, which is where we all make many of our most foolish, but sometimes funny, social faux pas.

From those awkward moments at age 12 come more embarrassing and humorous tales of life in high school; or, as the author puts it; “…when being drunk becomes the excuse for everything, even though it is never a legitimate excuse for anything.” These moments encompass sports, music, girlfriends and alcohol.

The next section is all about Mr. Bry’s adventures in college, which he refers to as “…the six longest years of my life.” During this period he apologizes to roommates, professors, and even his own father who died on an airplane after a family trip.

From school to family and friends, and then on into his adult life, Mr. Bry has been laboring under the weight of a chain of guilt which rivals those heavy links carried by Charles Dickens woeful character Jacob Marley. If you feel at all guilty about anything foolish which you have done in your life, then this is the book for you. If nothing else, reading about the author’s experiences in this regard will make it easier for you to forgive your own. 

A Thanksgiving Tale

I don’t think I have ever written down the story of George Edwards and the turkey before; but I have told it every year during the holiday season with the usual reaction; disbelief. But, I’m here to tell you that it really happened, and though I was not present at the time these events occurred, I can state that they were related to me by both his wife and children.

This was Thanksgiving Day 1992; which was about 20 years and a lifetime ago. It was like any day at the Edward’s house-hold; George was not drinking anymore; at least not until 4 PM. He would, by that time have consumed several packs out of his daily carton of Parliaments. I’m not kidding; a carton of cigarettes on one match. Do the math. 6 minutes to a cigarette at 20 per pack is 2 hours times 10 packs is 20 hours. Throw in 4 hours of sleep; which is all he slept; and there’s your carton a day. I don’t lie.

Anyway, back to the story; George was the type who did not believe in holidays and particularly despised the entire period from Thanksgiving through News Years. No one was ever quite sure why; though I do understand him more now that I am older; and anyway I’m sure he didn’t know himself.

So, Thanksgiving Day approached and George laid in an extra few cases of beer and several cartons of cigarettes; content with watching some football on television. But, his wife Anne; a sweet woman, and great cook; had decided to invite friends and family for dinner. He vowed not to come downstairs and join in the celebration; electing instead; to remain upstairs in his pajamas and watch TV.

The guests arrived and after some light refreshment and small talk, began to be seated at the table. The table, I might add, was piled high with food, in the center of which stood; gleaming with juices from the oven; a beautiful 25 pound turkey on a silver tray. Remember this stately bird.

As the guests sat down George bellowed from upstairs; he was a former iron worker in the days before cell phones or even walkie-talkies; “Anne, bring me a beer!” Of course Anne was embarrassed and ignored this request, as well as the two subsequent ones which were even less civil.

Finally, George himself appeared at the top of the stairs, clad in an open robe, wife beater tee-shirt and boxer shorts, shouting, “God damn it Anne, when I ask for a m-f-ing beer I ain’t kidding!” Anne was mortified and tried to soothe him with words, enraging him all the more, until finally; clad as formerly noted, but wearing work boots; he took the turkey from the table and flung it out the door of the house and clear across Benfield Blvd. It landed on the windshield of some poor, unsuspecting motorist, who was last seen staring at the heavens, wondering why he was chosen to receive this gift in the first place; and in such an unusual manner. For that man’s children; who were about 6 and 8 as I recall being told; the holiday has undoubtedly been ruined forever. But I still can’t help but laugh whenever I think of George and the outlandish things he did in the midst of a 30 year drunk.
 
Eventually, Anne left George and the house on Benfield Boulevard; I bet you didn’t see that coming; and they remained in touch with one another until his death in the late 1990’s. I think of him often, and have not written enough about him. On holidays, which he abhorred, I tend to think of him a bit more. He was a man of many contradictions, and I wish I had a photo of him to post here. But some of the greatest memories in life are not stored on film; or a camera card; they’re in your head, where they can never be erased.

And when Thanksgiving rolls around; year after year; I can see that turkey sailing across Benfield Boulevard, launched by George; bathrobe flapping in the frigid November air; as the guests quietly departed by the side door. And if you think that’s odd; wait ‘til I tell you about the Christmas tree…

W.C. Fields - American Icon of Humor

I was reading a book about comedy and came upon a chapter concerning William Claude Dukinfield, which was so filled with errors that I had to put the book down. Instead, I will share with you a poem and story from W.C. Fields himself, both of which capture the spirit of the man and his humor.

This poem was written by Fields sometime in the 1930's;

"The Martini" by William Claude Dukinfield

There is something about a martini
A tingle remarkably pleasant.
A yellow, a mellow - martini.
I wish I had one at present.

There is something about an Old Fashioned
that kindles a cardiac glow.
It's soothing and soft and impassioned,
As a lyric by Swinburne, or Poe.

In 1938 when Joe Louis knocked out the German boxer Max Schmeling, Fields placed the cause of Joe Louis' victory squarely in the lap of drinking;

"It simply bears out what I have always contended", he said. "A kidney needs a good alcoholic lining to stand up under wear and tear. Schmeling was a victim of clean living. If Louis, or any other professional slasher, dealt me such a blow, their hands would crumple from the impact. As a result of long and serious drinking, I've developed ripples of muscles over my kidneys. I will live to be one hundred and twelve years old, and perhaps a fortnight longer than that, and I deserve it because I've gone out of my way to live the wrong way. Some of my best friends are bartenders, but most of them die young. Seems they can dish it out, but they can't take it."