My Fish Story

 My Mom and Dad were not the most encouraging of parents. For instance, at the age of ten I wanted a guitar and got one- but my parents said I would never be any good at it. When I wrote they would tell me that it was good but I would never make a living at it. So it is no wonder that, when I was 12 years old and planned to use my earnings from the delivery of the NY Post to go fishing, I was told that I would catch nothing.

Setting out early that day- at least by my standards- about 10 o’clock in the morning - I headed to Sheepshead Bay which is about 1 mile from where our family’s apartment was on Avenue R and East 14th Street. I had used my weeks earnings to buy a rod , reel and fishing tackle box complete with hooks, sinkers and lures.

I set up at the end of one of the piers along Edmonds Avenue and threaded my line with a hook and a fresh , live, wriggling worm. There was not, in my estimation, a fish in the sea that could resist this attractive piece of bait.

I sat for hours, hoping, indeed praying for a bite. I felt the sudden tug on my line several times and reeled in frantically to claim my prize, I was rewarded with a sucession of an old rubber boot, a large Horseshoe Crab, and other assorted non edible residents of the Bay.

Lunch had come and gone, I feasted that day on a bologna sandwich and a Yoo Hoo-But still no fish on the line. I was already dreading going home empty handed and listening to the “I told you that you wouldn’t catch anything” that I was sure to hear from my parents and the ribbing I would have to take from my older brother.

I was still sitting there with the weight of the world coming down on me at 3 PM as I realized that yet another dream was about to be dashed by the unrelenting forces of reality. At this time of day the fishing boats began to return to their piers, laden with fresh caught Tuna, Flounder, Snapper and the like, all underscoring my failure to catch something edible.

The merchants assembled on the pier to purchase the fresh catch, which they would then take back to the various neighborhood restaurants and fish shops for sale. I was devastated by my failure to make a single catch while all about me the boats were unloading tons of fresh caught beautiful, aromatic fish.

Slowly the crowds of buyers left the piers, bound for shops, restaurants and homes where there would be fresh seafood that night. The skipper of the boat nearest me was hosing down the deck and began tossing some things into the Bay, catching my attention.

Meekly, I approached the boat and standing dejectedly with my rod and tackle box in hand, I must have made a lonely and forlorn sight. “Catch anything?” asked the skipper, pausing in his cleanup. “No, no luck today, but tomorrow I’ll try again.” was the only reply I could make. “What ya using fer bait?” asked the man. “Worms” I replied. “Well, Hell’s Bells, no wonder you didn’t get nuthin’- you need some real bait.” With that he tossed me 2 fish, each about as large as my 12 year old hand. “Try these” he said and then returned to his work.

I contemplated trying them as bait when I realized the answer to my predicament was now right in my hands. Sitting on the edge of the pier I put hooks in the mouths of my 2 Behemouths and strung them to a short lead, just like in the movies, or like Opie and Andy on TV. Now I was ready to go home.

As I entered our apartment my Mom said from the kitchen, “Didn’t catch anything, right?” Now I had her, “As a matter of fact I caught two” was my reply. Surprised, she shot back- “ Well , you got lucky that’s all.” But there must have been some surprise that I had anything at all because my Dad arrived home a short time later and took a photo of me holding my prize catch. And then they threw the fish away, because they were probably “dirty” and not to be cooked or eaten.

But if you look closely at the picture , you can see it in my eyes and the smile on my face- I had 2 fish- no matter how I got them – I had them. And for years my parents kept that photo in a frame on the piano and would proudly exclaim “Look at the fish Robert caught in Sheepshead Bay!” I think that’s the part of the story I like best.

For Phyllis Drivas

I watch as leaves fall from the trees
Like lives they fall til no one greives
And no one's left, and they all leave
life always ends this way.

Time goes by, both good and bad
Emotions pass, first joy, then sad
And when it ends we're sometimes glad
that no one's born to stay.

So why then do we take it hard,
when left here standing in the dark
Life seems empty, void and stark
and in our hearts we pray.

Reduced to only flesh and bone
We're all born to die alone
There's no reprieve from hard, cold stone
a void that's marked in grey.

From me and Sue. ❤

December 7, 2022

"Thanksgiving Day 1621" - Jean Leon Jerome Ferris

 "Thanksgiving Day 1621" was painted by Jean Leon Jerome Ferris in 1915. It supposedly depicts the Pilgrims at New Plymouth Colony in Massachusetts.

​Ferris was a 19th-century painter who was primarily known for painting 78 scenes of significant events from American history. He was born in Philadelphia in 1863.

Among his most known works are "The Landing of William Penn" and "The Fall of New Amsterdam." His paintings have come to be criticized for their idyllic versions of the events they puport to show.

That aside, he was painting what was known as the truth at the time he created the paintings. So, I still enjoy them for their perspective and color.

Happy Thanksgiving to all my friends and I hope that your Thanksgiving will be as idyllic as Mr. Ferris' paintings. Enjoy the holiday, friends, family and food. And if you are traveling, be safe!

When I Was Young

When I was young and healthy
and held our baby in my arms,
I felt so strong and wealthy,
couldn't conceive that any harm,
would ever really reach me,
my wife and Iife were charmed.
When I was young and healthy
I believed with all my heart.

Even on a winter's day
when a chill was in the air,
I didn't need a coat
and didn't have a care.
My smile was like the Chershire Cat,
the one who'd got the cream.
Maybe I was foolish
but i believed the dream.

Now as I look back upon
a cherished photograph,
I see the joke was on me,
and finally grasp the laugh.
Youth doesn't last forever
even babies become old.
Fair weather's not forever
and winter's all run cold.

And though I might build a fire
the flames will soon burn low.
When I was young and healthy
this is something I didn't know.
Now the cold air finds me
and it permeates my bones.
The truth's there to remind me,
that we all pass on alone.

November 3, 2022

Baltimore Zoo Pennguin House
January 1990
Photo by Sue.

"Mister 880" with Burt Lancaster, Dorthy McGuire and Edmund Gwenn (1950)

This is a true story. One of the most unusual counterfeiting cases ever recorded, it originated in Manhattan but played out in Brooklyn, from Boro Park to Flatbush to Coney Island. Even Kings Highway was targeted. It took place over 10 years, between 1938 and 1948 and was the toughest case ever undertaken by the Secret Service.

It is the story of Emerich Juettner, also known as "Skipper", an ex Navy Machinists Mate from World War One who made his living as a junk dealer and only printed the counterfeit $1 bills in order to make ends meet. They were of extremely poor quality, which made the case even more baffling. Even the word Washington was mis-spelled!

The case came to a head in January 1948, after a fire forced him to leave his apartment in Manhattan. The firemen left his belongings in an alley where some kids found them. In the film the kids use them to trade and play cards, but in reality they turned them over to the Police, who had been alerted by the Secret Service of their existence.

Agent Steve Buchanan and his boss had discussed their longest running case, called Case 880, for 10 years, never turning up a credible lead. Out of respect for their quarry they nicknamed him "Mister 880." The counterfeit notes passed by him were even called "880s".

When a woman, Ann Winslow, a  translator at the newly formed United Nations, was found passing 2 of the counterfeit notes, the Secret Service cultivated her as a possible conspirator. She became interested in Agent Buchanan romantically, as he did with her.

Soon, it became apparrent that the bills had merely come into her possession accidentally. But how? That was the key to solving the case.

Eventually it was determined that she lived in the same rooming house as the old man, who was still not a suspect. But, when she bought 2 small spinning wheels from him for $3 each, she had paid with two $5 bills, receiving 4 of the bogus bills in change. This was his only mistake in 10 years.

He had only undertaken the enterprise as a way of survival. Had he placed himself in the care of the government and lived at the Old Sailor's Home it would have cost the United States $85.70 a month to care for him. Needing less than $50 a month to live on, he began doing the whole thing as a way to save the government money.

Agent Buchanan was a relentless man who believed in the maxium penalty for any counterfeiter, even "Skipper", but as the case unfolded he began to have a begrudging respect for the old man.

Eventually, Juettner was arrested, and sentenced to nine months in jail. But when the judge is informed that a sentence of less than a year makes Skipper ineligible for parole he changes the sentence to 9 months and a $1 fine, making him eligible for parole in only 4 months. Agent Buchanan paid the $1 fine for him.

When 20th Century Fox bought the movie rights to his story, "Skiper" earned 8more money than he had ever made as a counterfeiter.

Edmund Gwenn, who played 'Skipper", won a Golden Globe Award and was nominated for an Academy Award for his performance. Agent Buchanan was played by Burt Lancaster and Ann Wilson was portrayed by Doroth McGuire.

The exterior scenes were all filmed on locaion in Manhattan and Brooklyn, while all the interior scenes were shot on soundstages in Hollywood.

This is a most endearing and entertaining film. It can be viewed here:

https://youtu.be/Ko17byRnCWo

"The Knish War on Rivington Street" by Joanne Opperheim and Jon Davis (2017)

 Of all the gifts I received for my birthday this year, this 32 page children's book was the most delightful. It was given to me by my daughter Sarah Marie. And it put to rest any doubt about the story told to me by my Great Uncle Irving Henkin.

Rivington Street in Manhattan runs across the Lower East Side. It is named after James Rivington, who is mostly remembered for his Loyalist newspaper during the American Revolution while he secretly ran a spy ring for George Washington. John Carroll Lynch portrays him in the the AMC drama "Turn: Washington's Spies".

But less than 150 years later, around the turn of the 20th century, there would be a different kind of  war raging. This one would be commercial and indicative of the society wrought by America's "melting pot."

My Uncle Irving used to tell me this story, which I kind of thought was based on a kernel of truth, but I wasn't sure how much of it he had embellished. It turns out he didn't have to stretch the truth at all because it really happenrd. There was a Knish War on Rivington Street.

Joanne Oppenheim wrote the story down, with illustrations by Jon Davis in 2017. And, although it is a childrenn's book, it is a delightful story for children of all ages.

Basically one immigrant family moved to 150 Rivington Street and opened up a shop selling baked round knishes for a nickel. They were delicious. But soon after,  another family moved into 155 Rivington Street, directly opposite the first store. They too sold knishes, but theirs were square rather than round. And fried rather than baked.  And thus began the Great Knish War of Rivington Street.

But this war was non violent, and the weapons used to decide the outcome were economic. A price war and brass bands versus an orchestra were the weapons of choice. Crowds formed, and music blasted from one side of the street to the other.

Finally the Police were called and even the Mayor came to broker a peace. Tasting both the baked round knish and the square fried ones, he declared the contest a tie. There WAS room for both on Rivington Street! The price went back up to a nickel from the 4 cents engendered by the "war", the brassband and orchestra were disbanded and life went on.

A wonderful book which both entertains and informs, it also preserves an almost lost piece of Jewish heritage. Read it for your grandchildren, and also for yourselves. You will be richer for the experience. And afterwards, have a knish! 😀

Queen Elizabeth - The Passing of an Era

 Amazing to think that Queen Elizabeth has really passed. She was already Queen for 2 years before I was born in 1954. So she has been a presence in the world for all of my life.

An amazing woman, from childhood to driving an Ambulance in the Second World War and marrying Prince Phillip in 1947, she really was unique. Her portrait is featured on the currency in 33 different countries, underscoring the breadth of the old British Empire, upon which the "Sun never set."

She surpassed Queen Victoria in years on the throne and was getting ready to become the longest reigning Monarch in history. Only Louis XIV of France, with a 72-year and 110-day reign from 1643 until 1715 surpasses her in that regard.

Interestingly, the Stone of Scone, also known as Jacob's Stone, is now in Scotland, having been moved there in 1997. It is currently displayed in Edinburgh. The Queen passed away in Balmoral, also in Scotland. Every reigning head of the British Empire has been installed while seated on the throne with that stone beneath it since about 1296.

She will be replaced by her eldest son Charles, the third to bear the name as King. But more importantly, she will be missed by most, if not all, of the world.

The Garden of Delight

 

Here is Mother Nature,
who works so hard unseen.
All the flowers, and all the world,
are products of her dreams.

She often gets no credit
for all that She provides.
The beauty that She creates
with no homage to Her pride.

Working hand in hand with God,
and against the clock of time.
The Mother of all that we enjoy,
and all things which are so fine.

She never signs what She creates,
giving all Her time for free.
Her work is never dated
and goes on eternally.

Her seasons are unnumbered
and in a race with Father Time.
She's always right on schedule,
and Her creations all Divine.

Changing Stars

As Arcturus in Bootes is descending,
and Spica in Virgo ascends. 
My heart's like a cup runneth over, 
the surprises for me never end.

One constellation is going,
as the next one arrives on the scene.
I've met them before, they're never a bore,
they burn with a light as they gleam.

The seasons are ready for changing,
you can tell by the stars in the sky.
To the ancients 'twas simple star gazing,
which filled up their hearts and their eyes.

Like a clock the earth keeps on moving,
it still spins, it still tilts and revolves,
and I find this truly amazing,
like a riddle that's never been solved.

They say it's mathematic equation,
but it needs no persuasion to me.
I only gaze up at the magic,
in these mystical stars that I see.

"Captured" (1933) with Leslie Howard and Douglas Fairbanks, Jr.

"Captured" starring Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., Leslie Howard, Margaret Lindsay, Paul Lukas and J. Carroll Naish may at first seem like an innocuous forerunner to later POW films, but it is much more. It is an exploration of both the captured and their keepers. It explores the duty to ones comrades as well as the duty to what both are fighting for in the first place. And the validity of it all.

The prisoners are French, British, Italian and American. At first they are held in inhumane circumstances and likely to die of starvation and disease. The ranking British officer is able to come to an agreement with the prison camp commander, guaranteeing more humane treatment for all the prisoners. To effect this agreement, he guarantees their obedience to the Commandants rules, which are not unreasonable.

Is brutality ever justified, or does some leniency result in a more ordered situation for both sides? And just how far should this cooperation extend? And, how far does personal vengeance go in the scheme of larger issues? All eternal, and still unanswered, questions in these modern times.

Although these things may seem obsolete in the modern era, the theme of the film is still valid. When other powers, with whom we have no personal quarrel,  are at war, how far should the common soldier go in his personal struggle to escape, and what are his obligations to his comrades who have been temporarily removed from the larger struggle by their captivity?

In this film, all of these themes are played out when a British prisoner of war becomes imprisoned alongside his best friend from home, unaware that while he was captured earlier, that same friend began an affair with his wife. When that friend then escapes, jeopardizing the other prisoners safety, he is also charged with criminal rape and murder of a local peasant woman. What then is the moral obligation of his friend, who is also the superior officer?

When the enemy calls for the British Command to return the escapee to face trial for war crimes. The question then arises as to whether any loyalties remain to unite these two friends in their common struggle, personal differences notwithstanding.

Is that struggle, in which they are only pawns, undermined by personal betrayal? And more importantly, at what point do personal differences between friends, and responsibilities to those under ones command, begin or end?

Are the actions of the senior officer in this instance motivated by personal revenge, a sense of right and wrong, or is he doing his duty to protect the many for the war crimes of one man?  

This film delivers on all these points, and with its pristine restoration, and a rousing finish, is well worth the viewing.

"Hangmen Also Die"

"Hangmen Also Die!" is a 1943 film directed by the Austrian director Fritz Lang and written by John Wexley. It originated as a story by Bertolt Brecht (credited in the film as Bert Brecht) and director Fritz Lang. This is their only known collaboration.They were both German Refugees of the Holocaust.

The film, based on the real life story of The Hangman, stars Hans Heinrich von Twardowski in the title role of the real life German leader Reinhard Heydrich. He was a high-ranking German SS police official and a principal architect of the Holocaust. For his full, inhumane story just Google his name.

Walter Brennan, usually cast in character roles and more widely known to many as Grandpappy Amos on the TV sit com "The Real McCoys", is cast here as a well respected Professor and member of the Czech underground in Praque.

Not since the film "Swamp Water" had he played such a serious dramatic role. When compared to films such as "To Have and Have Not", the screen adaptation of Hemingway's novel of the same name, written for the screen  by William Faulkner, and starring Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall, had his true range of acting been so plainly revealed.

During the Nazi occupation of Czechoslovokia, a well respected Surgeon named Franticek Svoboda (Brian Donlevy) assassinates the Hangman. Dr. Svoboda escapes with the aid of history professor Stephen Novotny (Walter Brennan). He, along with 400 other Czechoslovakians, are then betrayed by Nazi sympathizer Emil Czaka (Gene Lockhart). The Czech prisoners are told that if Svoboda does not surrender, they will all be executed.

Finely restored from the original silver nitrate film, this story is the story of the never ending struggle of Good and Evil, which still goes on in 2022. This was my first encounter with this gripping film.

https://youtu.be/WiQFkEM1H00

"A Book" by Desi Arnaz (1976)

This is one of the best autobiographies you will ever read. I first read it when it was published in 1976. It is now out of print and available only in e-book format. An old battered copy of the book, in poor condtion, fetches about $224 on e-bay, if there is one available. A copy in good condition goes for $400 or more, and a signed copy goes for thousands of dollars. Even a battered paperback will set you back $80, again, if you can find one. The e-book runs for $15 or so and is readily available, both new or used.

But here's the thing, this book must be read. To really appreciate the depth of his story you must hear it in your head as he would speak it. In 2010 I reviewed this book from my memory of reading it in 1976. I didn't do it justice. I seem to have concentrated on only his years in America and merely eluded to his wealthy and privileged past.

The book is titled "A Book" simply because so many people asked him when he was going to write a book,  it seemed only natural to title it in that way.

Desi Araz, born Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y de Acha III, was a man who, years later, arriving in Ventura, California found himself walking down streets bearing his family name. Even Ventura Blvd. was named for his family, who at one time owned a good chunk of Southern California by virtue of a land grant given to his family by Queen Isabella of Spain.

His paternal side was composed of Politicians, Police Chiefs etc. His maternal side were the Bacardi's, the ones who made the rum. His love of his grandparents, and their stories, is endearing. His description of growing up in Cuba, pre- Batista, is fascinating and educational. Unlike Lucille Ball's 3 books, which focused briefly on her childhood, meeting Desi and then "I Love Lucy", Desi's book is a history of a family and a way of life which simply doesn't exist anymore.

His stories of growing up in Santiago will lend you a new understanding of how Cuba went from Spanish ownership to an American protectorate, and finally into the puppet government of Batista, which is when his family lost all their power. He left Cuba 20 years before Castro ever came into view, arriving

Beginning with his life in Santiago, Cuba in 1917 where Mr. Arnaz was born, this book reaches back to the 1860's and introduces you to the roots of the life of privlege he led as a young man when he was heir to the Barcardi fortune. When Batista came to power all that changed. In the 1930's he went to Miami where he was spotted by Xavier Cugat. He became a singer in Mr. Cugats' band and carved out a small reputation for himself at the same time.

From there, he was the first to introduce the country to the "Conga" craze. This was the age of Xavier Cugat and Carmen Miranda with her fruited headpieces. After serving time in the Army, drafted as a foreign national in 1943, where he shortened his name to Desi Arnaz, he went on to Hollywood and some minor roles before being cast with Lucille Ball in some "B" movies. From there it's all, as they say, history.

Mr. Arnaz takes us through the years of "I Love Lucy", giving us a "cooks tour" of not only the show but the thought process which was behind it. This was the show that introduced us to the use of 3 camera angles, a process still in use today. He also chronicles the changes in his relationship with Lucy that finally led to their breakup in 1960. And he takes the full blame for that.

Though they both remarried, they remained close freinds the rest of their lives. There was just too much passion for their own marraige to endure. An honestly written, straight from the heart autobiography, in which he often paints himself in a bad light, this is one of those books that you really don't want to pass up.

If you want to read it you will mostly have to do an inter library loan. It is worth the small fee, and the wait. All well written books are.

The Stone of Scone / Jacob's Pillow

For years I have been interested in the Stone of Jacob, and finally, I have taken the time to read about it and put it into some sort of order. I hope I have done the subject some justice. It is a long and somewhat confusing story, so if you spot any errors, please feel free to let me know... 

Although it may sound like a pastry, the Stone of Scone is an ancient symbol of Scottish sovereignty. According to legend, the sandstone slab was used by the biblical figure Jacob as a pillow when he dreamed of a ladder reaching to heaven and then brought to Scotland by way of Egypt, Spain and Ireland. In reality, geologists have determined that it really comes from Scotland. 

The Stone of Scone is also known as the Stone of Destiny, Jacob's Pillow, the Hebrews' Sacred Stone and the Lia Fáil. It is the great stone upon which the Kings of Scotland, including Constantine III in 995 and Macbeth in 1040, were  crowned. It has been used in every English Coronation since then.

The Stone of Scone was last used in 1953 for the coronation of Elizabeth II of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The red sandstone block was originally kept at the now-ruined Scone Abbey in Perthshire. The stone was brought back to Scotland in 1996 and is currently displayed at Edinburgh Castle. What the removal of the Stone back to Scotland will mean for Elizabeth's successor is unclear.

The Stone of Destiny is an ancient symbol of Scotland's monarchy, used for centuries in the Coronation of its kings. Revered as a sacred object, it's origins are really unknown. In 1296, King Edward I of England seized the stone from the Scots, and had it built into a new throne at Westminster and later placed under the Coronation Chair. 

This large panel, apparently intended for a ceiling, was done by the painter, architect, and author Giorgio Vasari in 1558. It is housed at the Walthers Art Gallery in Baltimore and tells the story of Jacob and the Stone.

In the Old Testament book of Genesis, on his way to Haran, Jacob lay down in the wilderness to sleep, resting his head on a stone. He dreamed of Angels ascending and descending a stairway, or ladder, to heaven. God then appeared and blessed Jacob and his descendants. 

Bethel, where Jacob had his dream, was an ancient city of Palestine, located just north of Jerusalem, in present day Turkey. Bethel was important in Old Testament times and was frequently associated with Abraham and Jacob.

When Jacob awoke from his sleep, he thought, "Surely the Lord is in this place, and I was not aware of it." He was afraid and said, "How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God; this is the gate of heaven." Early the next morning Jacob took the stone he had placed under his head and set it up as a pillar and poured oil on top of it. He renamed the city of Luz as present day Bethel.

Then Jacob made a vow, saying, "If God will be with me and will watch over me on this journey I am taking and will give me food to eat and clothes to wear so that I return safely to my father's household, then the Lord will be my God and this stone that I have set up as a pillar will be God's house, and of all that you give me I will give you a tenth."

— Genesis 28:16–22, NIV

"The Scarlet and the Black"

"The Scarlet and the Black" starring Christopher Plummer as  Col. Herbert Kappler, the Nazi in charge of Romee, and Gregory Peck, as Monsignor Hugh O'Flaherty, is an your seat true life story. John Gielgud is also brilliant as the Pope, who literally walked a political tightrope, just as O'Flaherty did on the white line painted around the entrance to the Vatican. He even ventured outside in Rome, at first in his Vatican clothes, and later in various disguises. He should be made a Saint for what he did in saving over 6,500 lives at the peril of losing his own.

How he won the battle of wits with Colonel Kappler, who tried to kill him, even personally wielding a sniper's rifle at one point, is nothing short of a miracle. Even the Colonel, as depraved as he was, could not bring himself to squeeze the trigger, while the Monseigneur smiled up at him in the crosshairs of the rifle's scope.

In total, of Rome's 9,700 Jews, most were saved, with only 1,007 shipped to Auschwitz. The rest were hidden, 5,000 of them by the official Church - 3,000 at the Pope’s Castel Gandolfo, 200 or 400 as "members" of the Palatine Guard, and some 1,500 in monasteries, convents and colleges.

The remaining 3,700 were hidden in private homes, including Msgr. O'Flaherty's network of apartments. After the war, O’Flaherty was honored by various Allied countries with awards and decorations for his heroic acts to save Jews and POWs alike. Inexplicably he has never been made a Saint.

Monseigneur O'Laherty's total includes the POW's, many of whom were RAF pilots, which is why his total is so high. It should also be remembered that as an Irishman he basically deplored the English and the Black and Tans of his youth for the 1916 Bloody Sunday and subsequent Irish War for Independence, which led to Ireland's being divided into two halves in 1921. Also, it should be bpnoted that Ireland was neutral against Germany in both World Wars.

"The Scarlet and the Black" has an even more amazing ending in real life. It is written on the screen at the close of the film. Sentenced to life in prison, the Colonel had no visitors save one. That was Msgr. O'Flaherty, who visited him each month until the colonel died. Additionally, the Colonel even converted to Catholicism at the hand of Msgr. O'Flaherty before he died. The Monsignor lived well past the Colonel, not passing away until Octobern of 1963, having converted the agnostic man who had, on many occassions, tried to have him killed.

This film will have you rooted tomykur seat as you watch 3 of the greatest stars play their craft telling the story that seems almost unreal.

Note: Scarlet and Black were the colors of both the Vatican and the Gestapo. Two forces, diametrically opposed yet both claiming the same colors, makes an interesting observation.

https://youtu.be/D0YbW0ZzaNQ
 

The Bears

The bears danced in the moonlight
it was such a lovely sight.
All dressed up for the special occasion,
wanting everything to be just right.

The honeymoon was waiting
they'd chartered the perfect ship.
The crew were aboard salivating
to make this a memorable trip.

It isn't often you see the Bears
dressed up and plainly in sight.
Both of them were wearing their tails,
looking good for their special night

The moon was patiently waiting,
framed by a clear dark blue sky.
The stars were all out and were blazing,
with those who didn't know asking why.

Because bears don't often get dressed up,
it was easy for most folks to see.
That they only had eyes for each other,
and 'nary a thought was for you or for me.

Terry Spier (?) was the artist. It was on a movie night ad posted by Debbie Cawdrey.
July 30, 2022

Carolina Moon

The Carolina Moon,
I've been missing it of late.
But tonight it's full and bright,
And its kiss is like a date.

I've been missing it for weeks
its been hiding behind clouds.
But now the Carolina Moon
is back and does us proud.

The Carolina Moon
will be watching us all night.
Up while are sleeping,
a soft and lovely light.

In just a few more days
it will be leaving us again
Hiding behind clouds
while it leaves us soaked in rain.

The Carolina Moon
you need catch it while you can.
It's a long road it must travel
'til it kisses us again.

Note 1: Photo taken just now. 9:45 PM
It will go down just before I wake.
Sleep well. ❣

July 11, 2022

Note 2: Last year at this time i missed the Moon for 3 months. When I first saw it once more in September I cried. And vowed never to take it for granted again.

Moon rose at 7:45 PM. It will set at 4:44 AM

The One Whom I Love Now

If it were not set
that I had met,
the one whom I love now.

I couldn't accept
that I wouldn't yet
contrive upon just how.

To go about
and make but mine
two hearts I know would surely pine.

Would be no doubt,
nor waste in time,
that I would act in haste for thine.

Two souls would shout,
our hearts would whine,
though moon and stars couldn't help shine.

Had fate not coined
my heart be joined,
I cannot see but how.

Were it not set
that I had met,
the one whom I love now. 

After watching "If I Were King" with Ronald Coleman as the poet/bandit Francois Villon earlier in the day, I awoke at 4 o'clock this morning and wrote the following, then went right back to sleep.

Villon is in love with Katherine, who is a Lady in Waiting. Though she is also in love with him, she is also bethored to another and her duty to the Crown separates them irrevocably. A lady-in-waiting is a female personal assistant, attending on a royal woman or a high-ranking noblewoman. Historically, a lady-in-waiting was often a noblewoman, too, but of lower rank than the woman to whom she attended.

So, their love is ill fated and never to be, because he is an outlaw, and she is part of the Aristoracy.

The poem is from her point of view, but in the style of Villon, so it really expresses both of their feelings towards one another.

Written in about as long as it takes to speak. Maybe a minute, tops. Then I went back to sleep.

 

The Moon Flower

 

Here's a beautiful but strange flower,
which only blooms for a quick twelve hours.
After tracking the Moon across the sky,
when the Moon goes down the flower dies.

The bud behind it will blossom when
the next week's phase of the Moon begins.
And for every quarter after this one
a new bud comes just to be gone.

Such beauty born but for to die;
its only use to please man's eyes;
portends some power so much greater,
is evidence of some Creator.

Tied as it is to Earths only Moon,
born just to live and die too soon,
is pause to ponder just who we are,
circling round this vast sea of stars.

Photo by Sue Williams

 

The Usho

  

In Gifu when the sun is low,
in evenings, spring to fall,
the Usho take their poles in hand
while lanterns light the way.

The Cormarant sit on the bow
strings tied around their necks.
They dive for little fish to eat
and Usho hold their sway.

From May through each October,
except on Harvest Moon,
the Usho and the Cormarants
work as one to seize their prey.

Down on the river Nagara
this is an ancient life,
to feed themselves and the birds,
though cruelly some might say.

Through the words of Haiku
Ukai tradition reigns.
2 millennium produced this course,
which still goes on today.

And with Ukai and the Usho
on Gifu Cormarant are chained,
for fishes in Nagara to be caught.
These ways are here to stay.


Oil painting "Fishing" by Nancy Bennett
Photo from Sue's trip to Greensville Artists Guild Gallery.

The Fallen

                              

Some fell on the beaches, some fell from the sky.
Some died in the trenches, never knowing why.

They died for flags, they died in rags,
in clothes so battle torn,
Some died before they fully knew
why they were even born.

Some died upon the spots they fell,
and went quickly to their graves.
Some lived to tell their tales of hell,
wondering why they had been saved.

The best, the worst, dead last or first
they all died just the same.

Some had scars which couldn't be seen,
or plates worn inside their heads.
With lungs so scarred from gasses
they could hardly draw a breath.

But all of them died heroes,
on this we all agree.
They died deaths not for them selves,
but died for you and me.

Photo by Wm. Shone Williams
Circa July 1918 in France

Wm. Shone Williams died at age 43, with a metal plate in his head and lungs scarred from mustard gas. It took him 25 years to die. A belated casualty of "the War to end all wars." He was the grandfather I never knew.

Ode to Arcturus

Every year around this time
I change my "wishing" star.
There are only 4 of them,
held close, though they are far.

Light years beyond where I stand
and gaze at their magic light,
my wishing stars look down on me
and keep me safe throughout the night.

When Orion fades and Betelguese
have left my nighttime view,
Arcturus comes to guard the Bear
and bring me luck anew.

If you don't have a wishing star
then take a look and see,
just find the Dipper's handle
and share it's love with me.

Ed's Place - "Nighthawks"

In the all night diner in the corner of my mind
there isn't anything that you can't find.
Eggs, pancakes, ham and more
there's nothing here you cannot score,
in the all night diner in the corner of my mind.

At the corner of Wide Awake and Dreams
you'll find everything and anything it seems,
that you have ever craved
or lose everything you've ever saved,
at the corner of Wide Awake and Dreams.

Though the guy who owns the joint may not be cool,
he's street wise and he doesn't suffer fools.
He'll fix up  a broken heart,
and stop fights that never start,
though the guy who owns the joint may not be cool.

In the cafe that's always open all night long,
Theres a jukebox that always plays your favorite song.
The lyrics might be kind of trite,
but it plays them every night,
in the cafe that's always open all night long.

It's a place that never seems to draw a crowd,
but in a subdued kind of way is always loud.
It's a place to wait for dawn,
sipping coffee while you yawn,
it's the place that never seems to draw a crowd.

There's one just like this place in any town,
and it seems to draw the people who are down.
For folks who have no jobs
and hearts filled with lonely sobs,
there's one just like this place in any town.

Inspired by Edward Hooper's "Nighthawks".

My First Bet

My first bet, remembered yet
was against the school house wall.
Barely twelve I had the itch.
and though I'd pitch, I didn't get rich.
But how I loved that wall.

Never stopped to wonder what I'd do
If those pitches wished would all come true.
I'd toss the coin, or flip the card,
standing in that old school yard,
not knowing life was hard.

Things went on this way for years,
enjoying laughter, fearing fears.
Though at times there were some tears,
they'd quickly dry away.
Time for those another day.

I had no scheme no plan, no guile
just passing time, with time to while,
and strength to go another mile.
With an open mind to any dare,
never pausing once to care.

Now the days grow short in hope,
I glimpse the true length of the rope
with which I used to lasso dreams,
reduced to threads to sew the seams
torn by passing time.

And yet I stand before a wall,
more aware that all walls fall.
But if I had to change a thing,
of what and who I think I've been,
I doubt I would at all.

Good and bad, or ugly yet,
I'd toss the coin, still make the bet
and flip the cards and watch them fall.
Knowing full the price I'd pay,
I still wouldn't wish my past away.

The Easter Bunny

 

The HOA said no soliciting,
but I guess he just wasn't listening
when the Easter Bunny came
knocking on my door.

Being he is Santa's cousin
I said,"I'll take an even dozen".
When I saw that they were chocolate
I took a dozen more!

As a rabbit has to make a living
and holidays are days of giving,
I ate them all and now my tummy says,
"Please stop, I'm getting sore!"

Rabbit says he'll be back next year,
and I told him he'd best tuck his ears,
if he's planning on selling
eggs from door to door.

Easter is a day for giving
but my HOA ain't that forgiving,
And if he comes again they'll be waiting,
on that point I'm pretty sure!

So be careful my chocolate toting friend.
Your next trip might just be the end.
And then I'll have to take the car
and buy my chocolate eggs at the store!

But he's an optimistic bunny
And though I know it may sound funny
I'll bet you all my Easter money that
next year he'll be right back here at my door!

Man of War

Man of War Sailing
(Painting by Christopher J. Guise)

It's a sunny bright morning
the ship's under full sail.
and if Neptune is happy
the bilges won't need to be bailed.

The cook's been up
since way before dawn,
and the smell of the coffee
erases all yawns.

There are lines to be spliced
and painting needs done,
all under the rays
of a bright shining Sun.

A ship under sail,
is a sailor's delight.
And if all works out well
t'will be a bright moonlit night.
  

The Midwatch

The Midwatch

This poem is based on the painting "Crescent Moon" by Montague Dawson.

The sails are all creaking,
there's a shroud o'er the moon.
The crew is all sleeping,
under a full mast and boom.

The day's work is done,
hatches battened down tight.
All troubles are gone
'til morning's daylight.

The ship rocks on the ocean
It sways beam to beam.
Not a sailor's awake,
all lare ost in their dreams.

3 Poems - The Thinker. A Trilogy.

 

How can one abandon
such strong feelings?
Am I that weak?
Are you that strong?
I look at what we had
and wonder...
Will i ever feel that way again?
Are there really other eyes out there
that sparkle like yours,
or shine like mine?
I really dont think so.
Turn it over,
look at the other side.
It was worth the changes,
the joys, the sorrows.
I can never forget
the way my heart pounded
at our first kiss.
Or  how time stopped when

i first entered you.
But now we are closed to one another,
and yet time moves on?
................

Sometimes i think i am
all that i need.
And at other times
I need you to be with.
It's so confusing
all of these
conflicting thoughts
and emotions.
If i seem to lean on us,
or you,
is that weakness?
Even the Pillars of Rome
had their faltering moments.
And this moment is mine.
............

How can i avoid
picking up the phone
to call you
when i feel like this?
You might call it weak,
but i don't think so.
Is it wrong to need one another?
(though it scares us both)
Do you need me?
When i ache inside,
can i lean on you?

 

Zeus and Hermes

Zeus was the Greek equivalent of the Roman God of Speed Mercury, pictured here on our old US Mercury dime.

Hermes was the son of Zeus and Maia. Hermes was Zeus messenger. Zeus was the fastest of the gods. He wore winged sandals, a winged hat, and carriied a magic wand.

"Zeus and Hermes came disguised as ordinary peasants, and began asking the people of the town for a place to sleep that night. They had been rejected by all, "so wicked were the people of that land," when at last they came to Baucis and Philemon's simple rustic cottage. Though the couple was poor, their generosity far surpassed that of their rich neighbors, among whom the gods found “doors bolted and no word of kindness."

After serving the two guests food and wine (which Ovid depicts with pleasure in the details), Baucis noticed that, although she had refilled her guest's beech wood cups many times, the pitcher was still full (from which derives the phrase "Hermes's Pitcher"). Realizing that her guests were gods, she and her husband "raised their hands in supplication and implored indulgence for their simple home and fare." Philemon thought of catching and killing the goose that guarded their house and making it into a meal, but when he went to do so, it ran to safety in Zeus's lap. Zeus said they need not slay the goose and that they should leave the town. This was because he was going to destroy the town and all those who had turned them away and not provided due hospitality. He told Baucis and Philemon to climb the mountain with him and Hermes and not to turn back until they reached the top.

After climbing to the summit ("as far as an arrow could shoot in one pull"), Baucis and Philemon looked back on their town and saw that it had been destroyed by a flood and that Zeus had turned their cottage into an ornate temple. The couple's wish to be guardians of the temple was granted. They also asked that when time came for one of them to die, that the other would die as well. Upon their death, the couple were changed into an intertwining pair of trees, one oak and one linden, standing in the deserted boggy terrain."

Thinking of Hootch - Cats Paws

Love this little pink paw. First time I saw one was on a kitten which had fallen  out a window of a second floor apartment on East 19th between Ave O and P in Brooklyn. I figured the owner was too stupid to own it and put him in my coat pocket and took him home. Named him Hootch.

If you were ever a steady "visitor" at 2132 Ocean Avenue you probably remember him coming and going. He led a lifestyle best described as ephemeral, like the stages of the moon.

Hootch lived for about 4 years, getting into scrapes but always making it back from the edges. Literally had 9 lives! He even got a job as a "mouser" at the butcher on Avenue O an East 15th street when I left to join the Navy. This was about 45 years ago, and the photo of the pink paw reminded me of him.....

Here is the little guy with his mom. Got the photos from a post by a woman named Peggy Sue on the Simon's Cat (fun) site, which can be found on Facebook. You can also contact the Underdog Pet Rescue Mission of Wisconsin at 608-224-0018

 

Wycoff-Bennett House - King Highway 1880's

 What a pleasure, what a treasure,

to be taken back in time,

to a place I so remember as uniqely mine.

A simple photo of an era,  that predates my own,

it's like a voice out of the past

a timeless telephone,

to an era, long since gone, older than my age.

A magic trip, a magic trick,

written on a page.

If those people could but speak, what tales they could tell

To mesmerize me, and surprise me

'twould be like a magic spell!

Further back past my own youth, to a time that was their own.

What a treasure, what a pleasure 

If i could only find that phone!

Photo courtesy of Brian Dobrin on Facebook.

Waves; No Waivers

It comes in waves, but never wavers,
there is no cure, and no Life Savers.
Just ride it through, it never changes.
A one day break, occassionally savored.

My friends all help and pull me through,
and Sue does all that she can do,
to steer me past these mountainous ranges
of endless views, no changing flavors.

I parse the info which my way passes,
with pain so pure, yet still amasses.
But I hang on, no hope in sight,
I'll never go without a fight.

I know I'll lose, so there's no fright,
there is no wrong, there is no right.
I soldier on, my endless march,
my frailty mixed with ironed starch.

No rain can wither a suit of mail,
a knight in sunlight, in a hopeless jail,
therein which dwells an optimist
who never cries for what he's missed.

What sustains me, I do not know,
so, I'll remain to see the show.
And how it ends, thats the part,
which marks the man, and shows the heart.

And, when they bring the curtain down,
I'll not ask another round.
I've proved my point and shown my mettle,
there'll be no accounts for me to settle!

"Summer Storm" (1944) with Everett Edward Horton

Disregard this misleading movie poster. The film takes place in 1919 and is a film version of Anton Chekov's 1884 novel "The Shooting Party", with the screenplay written by Rowland Leigh.

The trick with this film was how to convey Chekov's 1884 beliefs in Justice, and it's meaning, in pre Revolutionary Russia, with the plight of it's main characters in a post Revolutionary Soviet Union 35 years later. And to make it work.

When all is said and done Rowland Leigh did the remarkable  with a screenplay based on an adaptation by Michael O'Hara. The message i got from the film is the same i took away from the novel.

The question is clear to me; is justice truly blind, or is it just blind to the facts? Or, is the only pure justice one's own conscience; the verdict which one never evades or truly escapes?

With stars George Sanders, Linda Darnell, and a brilliantly nuanced performance by Edward Everett Horton, that question is posed beauifully, and in the end is answered perfectly.

The film is available for free, without commercials, on you tube. The link is as follows: https://youtu.be/7xZOZmoWEag But disregard that bizarre poster!