Uncle I and the Navajo Blanket

I usually post something for Good Friday; and also for Passover; which begins this evening. This year they both fall on the same day; leaving me in a conundrum; so I thought I’d do something different. Being the product of a mixed marriage I decided it would be more appropriate to tell a family story. It’s one that doesn’t get told often, and I thought I should be writing it down before it ends up lost to the ages.

This is one of those memories for which I do not have a photograph. Sometimes they are the best kinds of memories to have, as they allow the picture in your mind; which is always better than the photo; to survive intact with its full flavor unaltered by the perception of a photograph. It is also the story of my Uncle Irving; whom we called Uncle “I”; a Jewish man who goes to Los Angeles to visit his sister and on the way home stops in Los Vegas and takes a side trip to Colorado.

In the late 1950’s airline travel was still somewhat of a novelty, and my Uncle Irving; who was something of a novelty himself; took his first trip out west to see my Grandmother Dorothy; his sister; who had deserted Brooklyn along with the Dodgers, in Los Angeles. Neither entity was ever fully forgiven. The trip went well and on the way back Uncle I decided to visit Las Vegas, Nevada to play the slots. This is where the trouble actually began; although the poor man never even knew there was a problem until he got back to Brooklyn and my house.

I can still see the living room furniture clear in my mind’s eye as Uncle I sat on the sofa with a big bundle containing some “things” he had bought back from his trip for my brother and I. Anticipation filled the air around me as he unwrapped the mysterious treasures.

The first things out where 2 beaded Indian belts, supposedly hand crafted by Navajo Indians.  I was thrilled. My mother was not. She had noticed a swastika on the belt’s design. This was only 13 years after the end of the War, and in Brooklyn that was saying something. We had an inordinate amount of people with the telltale blue tattoos of the Concentration Camp on their wrists. But, if the belts weren’t enough to send my Mom into a tailspin, what came next certainly rose to the occasion.

The rug pictured above is probably a bit larger than the blankets my Uncle pulled out next. But it was the way in which he pulled them out that made the whole thing memorable. He unfurled them flat onto the living room floor with a flourish; as if they were the carpet containing Cleopatra.

So, there they were, right on the living room floor in Brooklyn, New York; two swastikas as large as the ones which flew over the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin. The silence was; as they say; deafening; but brief. Mom; usually a quiet and reserved woman; went into a rage; proclaiming the offending items to be inappropriate; and how could you think this was okay; what are you, crazy? (The last was more of a statement than a question.)

Uncle I just kind of stood there in silence for a moment before he looked at my Mom with the eyes of someone looking at a fool, and said something like, “Well, you can always go back to Nevada and exchange them.” He wasn’t laughing.

Now, my father; who had been standing off to the side during this whole thing; really loved Uncle I, but he had to sleep with my Mom. Something needed to be done; quickly, and preferably without words.

Accordingly, he gathered the gifts up in his arms and left the living room. I heard the front door to the hallway open and close, and then he was gone. When he came back he looked triumphant. No, make that omniscient; or Solomon like. He had come up with the perfect solution; he threw the stuff down the incinerator.

You know, I have never really understood my mother’s reaction that day. My immediate response was typical for a 4 year old. I looked at my brother; who was barely 6 at the time; and we both exchanged looks of “Holy Cow!” But in retrospect; as both a parent and a grandparent; I think both my parents were nuts. Aside from my brother and me, the only sane one in the room that night was my Uncle Irving.

As a brief aside I should mention that my Uncle was acting in a fairly rational way; buying those blankets, considering he was Jewish. It displayed an acceptance of their culture; and the swastika; beyond the context of Adolph Hitler. The way he figured it, the Nazis almost destroyed the Jews; so why should he now; in defeat no less; get to torpedo the Navajo’s?

My mother; on the other hand; displayed a complete ignorance of what should have been within easy memory for her. The Indian tribes all gave up the use of their religious symbol for the duration of the war. They did this voluntarily and without passage of any laws directing they take such action. As a matter of fact, their conduct would serve as a great lesson in tolerance for both sides in the current Religious Freedom law debates. Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. It’s only when you realize you should, that you can.

I’m glad I got somewhere with this story, as I had no idea where I was headed with it when I began. There are lessons to be learned everywhere; particularly in the stories of our own lives.

Happy Chanukah!

Happy Chanukah! Tonight is the first of eight nights of celebration commemorating the Miracle of the Lights. Literally, Chanukah means a re-dedication. This always takes place on the 25th day of the Hebrew month of Kislev. The story behind the holiday is, of course, like Christmas, biblical in its origins. The actual events took place over 2,000 years ago in Judea amongst the Hebrew people of the time.(The photo above is from last year.)

The Jews were the first mono-theists, that is, they were the first to believe in one God. To honor him they built a temple on Mt. Moriah in Jerusalem. Inside were the scrolls of the Torah, which were housed in an Ark. That Ark stood on an Altar which also held a lamp of oil burning in God's honor. This was a symbol of the special relationship the Jews felt with their Creator.

At the same time as the Hebrew people were worshiping their God, Alexander the Great was busy conquering the entire Persian Empire, an area that includes present day Iran, Iraq and the surrounding states. Wherever Alexander the Great went he erected huge statues of the Greek idols. He also placed statues of himself in every important place to show that these countries were under his rule.

At first Alexander allowed the Jews to worship their God with little interference, but that soon came to an end. When the Jews were ordered to place a statue of Alexander the Great on Mt. Moriah, they were horrified! Alexander understood this and allowed the Jews an exemption to this rule, and grateful Jews everywhere named their first born sons Alexander in his honor.

When Alexander died, Antiochus came into power. He was an unforgiving and determined man, hell bent on putting the Jews in their place. He forbid the Jews to worship in their own way and outlawed the Sabbath. Things might have gone on in this way for a while longer had Antiochus not made one crucial mistake.

On the 25th of Kislev, he ordered his troops to bring a statue of Zeus to Mt. Moriah for placement inside of the temple. And then he did the unthinkable - he slaughtered a pig on the Altar, spraying the Torah with the blood of the animal as he did. He then set out in the countryside, erecting more statues and demanding that the people worship them. This was not to be.

A local villager named Mattathias, knocked the statues down and formed his 5 sons into a band of rebels he named the "Maccabees", which means hammer in Hebrew. Soon, more Jews joined Mattathias and his sons, attacking the soldiers and destroying the idols. Antiochus was in a full blown rage at this affront to his supremacy and gathered his army outside of Jerusalem, intent on destroying the Jews once and for all.

At dawn his troops attacked, and were ambushed by the waiting "Maccabees." The people took refuge in the Temple atop Mt. Moriah and repaired all the damage that Antiochus had done to the Altar. Three years later, on the same date, the 25th of Kislev, the Temple was re-dedicated to God. The only problem was, of course, a shortage of oil for the lamp. With a prayer, the Holy Priest poured one days oil into the lamp, and then prayed for the light to last until new oil could be obtained.

That one day's worth of oil burned for 8 days, sustaining the faith of a battered people. And that is why we commemorate this event every 25th of Kislev. There is miracle in light, as well as light in every miracle. Happy Chanukah to all!

"A Visit from St. Nick" by Clement C. Moore (1822)

How could I ever let Christmas Eve pass without at least reading this iconic poem to myself, or sharing it here? The answer is that I simply can’t. This poem has become; over the more than 100 years since it was first published; a part of Christmas uniquely American, somewhat akin to the identification of Charles Dicken’s “A Christmas Carol”, as it defines the British Christmas experience of the 1800’s. 

This is one of those things that I will most likely post each year. Without grandkids closeby to share it with, I have to share it with somebody… Thanks for being here to enjoy it with me!

Mr. Moore wrote the poem “Twas the Night before Christmas”, or, “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822. He could hardly have envisioned the impact which his poem would have upon the world for years to come. 

This year marks the 191st Christmas since the poem was first published anonymously in the New York Sentinel. It wasn’t until 1844 that Mr. Moore allowed his name to be associated with his creation. There is no doubt that he would be surprised that his poem has lasted this long. We’re not.

“A Visit from St Nick” by Clement C. Moore

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.

And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.

A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

"Funny Little Bunnies" - Silly Symphony (1934)

If you’ve ever wondered how the Easter Bunny gets ahold of all that candy for the Easter Baskets, this cartoon is for you. The “Silly Symphony” series of cartoons were created by Disney Studios as a way to compete with the “Merrie Melodies” and “Looney Tunes” cartoons, both of which were produced by the main studios, and were coming to dominate the market after the heyday of Popeye and Betty Boop had passed.

Although these little cartoons lacked the chronic cast of characters pumped out by the other two studios, they did fill a niche market for cartoons which appealed to a younger audience; about 5 and 6 years old. With their splendid imagery and musical scores, they may have been short on dialogue, but they more than made up for it with the happiness they gave to so many younger children.

Happy Easter to any of the younger visitors to this site; including my own 4  grand-daughters; I hope that the Easter Bunny fills you up with all the sweetness you need to get through another year doing what you all do best; spreading that sweetness around! 

"Toy Tinkers" - Donald Duck with Chip and Dale (1949)

When Chip and Dale are rudely awakened from their winter nap by Donald Duck cutting down a nearby tree for Christmas, they follow him home to see what all the fuss is about.  Peering inside the frosted windows they spot all kinds of goodies. So, naturally, they find their way inside and begin to play with the things they encounter, infuriating Donald Duck, who just doesn’t seem to understand the Spirit of Christmas. Naturally, a battle of wits ensues, with Donald looking like he will be the “Grinch” for Christmas.

But, never underestimate Chip and Dale, who wage an all-out war to bring Peace on Earth to Donald Duck.

"Gift Wrapped" with Tweety and Sylvester (1951)

This cartoon is a perfect example of the change that came to animation in the 1950's. Aside from the cheaper cost of production, the subject matter became cheaper as well. If you watch any of the older cartoons from Christmas in the 1930's, and then compare them to the ones from the 1950's, it's impossible to ignore the changes. This is actually a Christmas cartoon, yet Tweety and Sylvester are kicking the crap out of one another! Don't get me wrong, I find the cartoon amusing, or I wouldn't be posting it. But you can't help but wonder how these cartoons affected society in general, as a whole generation grew up; me included; for the first time, in front of TV's, watching cartoons like this. Joy to the World!

Bugs Bunny - "A Christmas Carol"

I wanted to do something a bit different for Christmas season this year, and so I've been running some old cartoons, here and there, throughout the month. They're all related to Christmas is some way, and you may recognize one or two from when you were a kid and the magic of Christmas was still real. In other words; before you had to pay for it!

Cynicism aside, this cartoon is, of course, based upon the Charles Dickens novel "A Christmas Carol", and so we present this version, courtesy of You Tube, with our apologies to Mr. Dickens. At the same time, these old cartoons did send some us in search of the real thing at the library. If you've got a grandkid around for the holidays, sit down and watch this with them. They'll remember it long after you're gone. And, in the bargain, they just might find their way to reading the book later on.

It's Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas

It's officially Christmas at our house. The tree is up, all credit, as usual, to Sue. The outside will get done tomorrow. Christmas is really special for us this year; like so many Americans, we're thankful for simply having gotten through the year intact. We're grateful for all that we have, and need, while mindful of the difference between "needing" and "wanting."

The tree, due to my allergies, is artificial. But the joy that Sue takes in putting it up, and then then the joy of seeing it lit up, are all very real to me. Let the festivities begin...

Happy Mother's Day!

Here are two clasic poems for Mother's Day. The first is by Christina Rossetti. If it seems to be a bit lacking in her usual polish, you need to know that this was her first poem, written in 1842, to her mother. Ms. Rossetti was 11 at the time.

To My Mother

To-day’s your natal day,
Sweet flowers I bring;
Mother, accept, I pray,
My offering.

And may you happy live,
And long us bless;
Receiving as you give
Great happiness.

This next poem was written by another of my favorite English poets of the 19th century, Rudyard Kipling. He did it all; journalist, poet, master of any genre he chose, this was the introduction to his novel, "The Light That Failed", which was released in 1891. This introduction came to stand on it's own, especially amongst the British forces up to and through the Second World War.

Mother o’ Mine

If I were hanged on the highest hill,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine
I know whose love would follow me still,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were drowned in the deepest sea,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine
I know whose tears would come down to me,
Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!

If I were damned of body and soul,
I know whose prayers would make me whole,
Mother o’ mine, 0 mother o’ mine!

My own Mom passed away in 1984. That's her on the left, with me standing behind her. The photo was taken aboard the USS Milwaukee in 1978. Though she has been gone for almost 3 decades, we still speak often, and she has interceded on my behalf several times over the years. It's the only explanation I have for having now lived to be older than she was when she left!

So, to all Mothers everywhere, you have the hardest job on the planet. Thanks for doing it well. It's often said that the hope of the world lies in today's children. But it is equally true, to a great extent, that the future of those children lies in the hands of their Mothers. Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Valentine's Day - and a Birthday, too!

Happy Valentine's Day to my wife of 24 years, Sue. Without her I would walk into walls, sleep in theaters, and sometimes find myself face down in my dinner. Well, maybe I still do, but not quite as often as I would without her in my life. We still annoy one another in small ways, as most married couples do, but we also still enjoy one another. And that is the secret of being in love.

We had a rough beginning, and probably didn't get it right for the first few years, maybe we still don't. But we have always clung to one another on this rocky ride we all call life. We have had a daughter together, raised two sons, and lived to tell the tale. And that's no small feat! So, Happy Valentine's Day, Sue, you will always be my partner in life, even if I am a grouch...

And that brings me to my daughter, Sarah. Here I am, holding her at about 3AM in the morning on Valentine's Day 1987, which just so happens to be her birthday. We tend to do things around holiday times. We were married on the Fourth of July, had Sarah on Valentine's Day, and she got married on Halloween. Go figure... But she has bought much joy into our lives, and so I just wanted to wish her a Happy 24th birthday. As I told her last night, "May you never lose direction, and all your horizons lay just beyond your reach. In that way you will always strive to be more." We now return to our regular broadcast.

Groundhog Day - A Brief Comment

With winter only 5 weeks old, we find ourselves once again engaged in the old tradition of waking up the groundhogs early from their winter's hibernation, in order to ask them when winter will end, as if they know. And, more to the point, would be the fact that, if they did know, they couldn't tell us. So, as with last year, and many years prior to that, I'm rooting for the groundhogs again. This year, I'm hoping they're going to do something dramatic, like take a healthy bite out of the hands that wake them up!

With blizzards raging across a 2,000 mile long swath of the country, the groundhog is the smartest guy in town. He's deep down in his hole, sleeping. To those who wish to trek out into 3 foot of snow, and dig him out - best of luck. My own prediction, based upon the calendar, and not my arthritis, is that it will be winter until it is over in about 6 weeks.

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

And there's a hand my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o thine,
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup of kindness yet,
For auld lang syne!

Kilroy Was Here - An American Christmas Story

This symbol, and saying, have been a part of the American vocabulary since World War Two. And the story behind it is not often told. In a way, it involves Christmas, so I figured this was a good time to tell the story behind the words "Kilroy Was Here."

During the Second World War, when the United States was turning out ships and planes at a rapid rate, "checkers" were required to make the rounds of the shipyards and factories, inspecting the work. When they were done they placed a mark, with chalk, on the item to show that it had passed inspection. The appropriate riveter/welder would then get credit for the work, and hence, paid accordingly.

Soldiers began to see these marks, along with the words "Kilroy Was Here", wherever they went during the war. Wherever they went, they assumed they were the first, only to be greeted by the words that had become a slogan. There were now several Kilroys from coast to coast. But only one was the original. There was even a joke circulating about at the time of the Potsdam Conference. It was alleged that an outhouse had been built for the exclusive use of Truman, Stalin, and Churchill. The first person to use it was Stalin. When he finished and came out he asked his aide, "Who is this Kilroy?"

At any rate, fast forward a bit to the end of 1946. The Second World War was over and the shipyards were shuttered. James Kilroy was facing a bleak Christmas, with no toys for the kids. That's when he first heard of the search for the real Kilroy!

This photo, from the Boston American, dated December 23, 1946 shows the family with the trolley in their front yard. But the whole story really involves how it almost didn't make it on time.

The Transit Company of America had held the contest, offering as a prize, a real trolley car to the individual who could prove that they were the "real" Kilroy. Of the forty odd men who made that claim, only James Kilroy was able to produce officials from the shipyard, and even some of his fellow riveters, to prove his claim. Having won the prize, he now had to get it home! And there was a blizzard coming!

But, with the help of the Transit Company of America, and a local railroad spur, along with a truck and a crane, the trolley was delivered on time, where it served many years as a playhouse for James Kilroy's children. It was a Christmas they would never forget. And that, as Paul Harvey would say, is the rest of the story.

Merry Christmas everyone. Hope your day is filled with miracles!

Kicking It Off In Concord

Last night Concord kicked off the holiday season with a Christmas Tree lighting followed by a great fireworks display from the top of the Municipal Garage. The tree was across the street in front of the Concord Police Dept. Building. I was hoping to get a good shot of the Christmas Tree with the fireworks in the background, but it didn't quite work out as planned. That's the moon to the right of the tree below.


There was a dearth of fireworks in the area this July 4th, mostly due to budget cuts around the region, so it was really kind of nice to see so many people turn out for the event. Now, let's all go shopping.

A Columbus Day Memory - 1958

This is me on Columbus Day 1958. Back then, especially in New York, Columbus Day was a big thing. There were parades, and schools and banks were closed. I don't remember if there was mail or not, but the point is that Columbus Day was a big deal. With the advent of revisionist history, coupled with the desire for more leisure time, Columbus Day became one of those "floating" holidays reserved primarily for Federal Employees. I was sad to see this happen over the years as I have some great memories of Columbus Day back in Brooklyn as a kid.

I remember waking up on the holiday and making a Columbus Day "tree" from the newspaper. This photo is of my attempt today to try and replicate that feat. This is the first time in over 50 years that I have tried this. Pretty simple to do. Just take the newspaper, open it to the center and start rolling it into a cone shape. When you are done, simply tape the bottom so that it does not unroll. Then, using a scissors, cut the newspaper from the top opening of the "cone", cutting downward, about 1/3 of the way. Then reach inside the top and gently pull the interior section up and out. If you do this correctly the tree will blossom before your eyes. After doing that, my brother and I would march around the living room, holding our "palm trees" as we did.

The signifigance of the palm tree was that it was the first tree Columbus would have seen when he landed in what he thought was America, but was actually Hispaniola. No matter. My favorite part of the Columbus story has always been his third voyage. That's the time when his group of ships insisted on leaving for Spain just before a low pressure system was due. Columbus, who was an average navigator, but a great meteorologist, cautioned against it. The others left more than 2 weeks ahead of him,and vanished in what we now call a hurricane. And when Columbus arrived in Spain, they were nowhere to be found.