It's Only Me- Chapter 27- Kids and Jobs and Donuts

Sept 1985 found me back in Baltimore with an instant family. Sue had, as I have mentioned, 2 sons. Keith was 10 and Shane was going to be 8. They were typical kids, a bit starved for attention, but overall just average, hell raising, boys.

I really didn't have any problems with them. The hardest part was that they were very competitive for my attention and at first I was overwhelmed. I had just come from a lifestyle in which I was responsible solely for myself. Suddenly,I had to worry about homework, baths, getting breakfast etc.

Playing with them was also hard, I had been in the company of grown men for the last 10 years. Children were something I heard about but seldom had any interaction with. How do you handle it when you play ball with 2 boys and one of them has to win and one of them is going to cry? I had no clues....

So I forged ahead, doing the best I could. I only hope that in their memories I was not an ogre, but perhaps a stabilizing influence as well as a pain in the ass! There were fun times too, especially when I would take them somewhere one on one. We were getting to know one another and I was becoming less afraid of the responsibility.

At the same time that I was trying to adjust to this "instant father" stuff I was also trying to find some meaningful employment. My only forte at the time was mathematics and Navigation. I had no idea what to do, so I answered all ads.

To begin with I had no idea what "minimum wage" was. It had been awhile since I made $2.50 an hour in the paint factory. It was now 11 years later and the minimum wage was now only $3.35 per hour! So I started at a Royal Farms Convenience Store as a clerk, working nights and waiting for a better job to rear it's head. It took 5 days.

The donut delivery guy came every evening at 7PM and the donuts were fresh. They were made at Donut Delite on the site of the present day Camden Yard Stadium in Baltimore. We were horizontal to Babe Ruth's birthplace. Nearby was where the circus train unloaded the elephants each year and I would re-arrange my whole day to go and see them walk to the Arena.

Anyway, back to the donut guy. He was paying $5 an hour for a 6 hour day which beat what I was making in 8 hours. So I got hired on and assigned to a route that took me through 3 counties. It was at this job that I learned all the back roads of the adjacent counties. I had alot of freedom and all the donuts I could eat. It was 7 days a week with no holidays off.

Donnie Laws was the boss. He owned several routes and had vans for each one. They were specially fitted with racks for the donut trays to slide in and out easily. My job was to deliver the fresh donuts and remove the "day olds." Everything was done by Invoice, so we carried no cash.

Each day at 2 PM I would load up at Donut Delite and head out for my deliveries. Donnie was the type of guy who would think nothing of sending you out in a truck with no gas and a broken gas gauge. This was a constant source of irritation. That and the fact that he constantly referred to me as "that New York Jewboy" behind my back.

At the end of each day I would return the "day old" donuts to a trash bin located outside Donut Delite and across Martin Luther King Blvd. from the "projects." The kids who lived there had drug addicted parents and didn't get much in the way of treats. So each evening when I returned there was a crowd of kids waiting to ask for some of the "day olds." I would always give some away and throw the damaged ones in the trash bin. This bin would get picked up every two days and transported to the rail yard where it was shipped out to somewhere as "hog feed." When Donnie would catch me giving donuts away he would climb up on the dumpster and piss all over everything so that the kids would not get any treats. This was yet another sore point between us.

I was paid each Friday with a personal check- I was collecting Unemployment out of New York at the time. One Friday I was forwarned by another driver that Donnie was going to lay me off the following week on Wednesday. His brother in law needed the job. Then he was going to stiff me for the 3 days pay, knowing that I couldn't file a complaint due to the Unemployment issue. He was right about that, but there are other ways to skin a cat.

Taking his check over to his bank I cashed it. Getting back in the van I thought to myself, "How can I hurt this guy?" Inspiration came in a flash as I realized that I had about $1,500 worth of fresh donuts. And I was now also one day AHEAD in pay. Driving around in the city a bit I noticed that there were a lot of people sitting out on porches after the long winter had finally broken. It was now late April.

I pulled the truck up on a street that ran adjacent to North Avenue, in one of the poorer areas of the city. Stepping out into the early spring sun I shouted out, "Donuts, free donuts, fresh and warm!"

It was like a scene out of one of those jungle movies where the natives swamp the plane with arms outstretched for food. The trays were flying out faster than I could count and people were shoving bills in my hand, although I had not asked for any money!

Within minutes the van was stripped bare of donuts and I had to jump back in and race off. The rear doors were swinging wildly to shouts of, "Jack it up- get the wheels!"

I now had about $60 and 2 trays of donuts that I had stashed up front. I took these to Keiths Cub Scout Troop which was meeting nearby at the Harborplace that day. I was a hero to the kids as I handed out the donuts. I then parked the truck outside Donnies as usual, placing the keys in his mailbox and got in my car and drove home.

The next morning the phone rang and it was Donnie. He wanted to know where the donuts were. I feigned ignorance and then he let fly with what a donut stealing Jewboy I was and how he was gonna get me. I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about and not to call me anymore. I hung up, thinking that was the end of it. Sometimes you can be so wrong...

2 weeks later, on Mothers day, I was out front washing the car when a police car passed up and then down the street in front of our house. This was very unusual and should have clued me in, but it didn't.

Stepping out of the patrol car I was approached by an officer who asked me if I was "Bob" Williams. This should also have clued me in as everyone ashore called me Robert. But I answered yes and then was asked to step away from my vehicle. This guy was going to cuff me for something but I had no idea what! He explained that Donnie had filed a complaint and though the warrant was not in the officers possession he had the right to detain me while the warrant was delivered. I was able to talk him out of doing the handcuffs in front of the neighbors and kids and then got in the back of the car and was taken away. Around the corner he stopped and handcuffed me.

We arrived at the local county station house to await the warrant. I was placed in a common holding area which had 6 bunks and 7 inmates- my addition bought the total to 8. There was a phone, which I was not allowed to use, on the wall just outside of the cell. It was very strange being locked up but I knew that things would work out. It was really a question of how long I was going to be here. To make it worse, I was scheduled to start working on a horse farm in Elkridge the next morning at 8 AM. So I was a little worried about making it there on time. It was now 7 PM on Sunday.

I was the only white prisoner and thinking of the movie "Hard Times" with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor. Particularly the "I'm bad" scene. Just then the biggest black guy in there comes up to me and asks, "What'd you do?" I replied that I had stolen some donuts. This produced some laughter and a scornful "We got us a creampuff motherfucker!" There were now some suggestions being tossed about concerning what could be done with a creampuff when the oldest guy in there, who had been snoozing on heroin, came to life. He explained that "The white boy ain't no fool- them donuts be worth duckies!" Then he went back to sleeep.

The dynamics immediatley changed with everyone wanting to know how the donut thing worked and could they get in on it? I explained that Donnie went to the Royal Farms store on Security Blvd and Forest Park Drive every night at 7 PM. I also added that he carried alot of cash. You can imagine my joy when 3 weeks later Donnie was beaten and robbed at that location by a "big black guy."

Now that we were all friends they showed me how to use the phone. I had been calling out "Guard, Guard" and alternating that with "Officer, Officer" to no avail. The big black guy started to laugh and said, "Man, you new to this- you gotta do this to get the phone." He took his shoe of and started beating it against the wall while shouting "MOTHERFUCKER!!!" loudly over and over. This bought several guards. My new friend told the guard that "Whitebread needs to use the phone." The receiver was passed through the bars to me and the guard dialed O for Operator, instructing me to leave the receiver dangling when I was through. Prison Etiquette 101.

I called Sue, who was very upset, and explained that I would undoubtedly be late that night so don't wait up. I would call her when I knew something.

Shortly after this call the Warrant arrived and I was transported, again in handcuffs, to a Paddy Wagon and driven down to Baltimore City and the Southwest Precint. This was a very old jail on Ostend Street which has since been razed. I was placed in a private cell next door to the only other prisoner that day- a drunk who had been urinating in public- at Harborplace on Mothers Day- in full view of everyone there. He had been arrested by a female officer and was highly intoxicated and pissed off. So it was going to be a lonely night.

Around 1 AM on Monday morning I heard the cell block gate open and someone was at the cell next to mine asking the drunk some questions. He began by introducing himself as the "Pretrial Release Officer." I could tell by his voice that he was black and educated. He began asking the other prisoner questions, like his name and contact info. For every question asked he received a scathing racist reply. For instance, to the question "What is your address?" he replied, "I ain't telling nothing to no nigger so he can go to my house and rob it." The Pretrail Release Officer went from question to question without pause and never reacted to the abuse being heaped upon him.

When he came to my cell I was on my feet at attention and answered everything with a "Yes,sir." This really surprised him and he started to leaf through my charging documents. He looked at me and asked for some contact info. I gave him Sue's number and address and told him he could also call Military Sealift Command in Bayonne, New Jersey to verify my identity. Although I was no longer an employee my security clearance was valid for 2 more years and I figured it couldn't hurt. He was impressed with my bearing as well as my response. He told me that the warrant should never have been issued as it didn't satisfy the who, what, when, where and why required by the law. He could not dismiss the Warrant but could get me out without bail if my responses were all correct and could be verified at this hour. He left promising to return shortly.

About an hour later he came back with a guard and my cell was unlocked. I was taken to the Magistrates Office where I was told that I had been unjustly confined but that I still needed to go to trial. Advising me to seek counsel I was then released at 3 AM.

I got a cab home and woke Sue up so we could pay the driver. I got a few hours sleep before getting up and beginning my new job at Mr. Perry's horse farm. I would be making $7 an hour.

Mr. Perry was 83 years old and married to a woman 15 years his juinor. They had met one day in 1934 when Mr. Perry saw her crying at a bus stop. He approached her and told her that there was nothing in this world that couldn't be fixed. She explained that she was pregnant and unmarried. He married her and raised the kid!

A little background on Mr. Perry is in order here. He arrived in Baltimore in 1917 at the age of 15 years old. He got a job as a Conductor on the trolley and then started the Baltimore branch of the Transit Workers Union. He became President of the Union during the 1930's and never looked back. He was an evangelical Christain with great respect for the Jews. We spent many hours talking politics and religion while I worked hoeing his 1/4 acre vegetable garden with a short handled hoe while he sat in the shade wearing a Panama hat. I also took care of feeding and watering the horses that were stabled on his property.

Mr. Perry had bought the farm in 1964 as a buffer against Route 95 on his West side and the Airport on his Southern side and Baltimore City 4 miles to the North. He was way ahead of his time concerning ecology. He was also a pain in the ass. He would start yelling at me just like my Dad had- telling me, "Use the other hand!" At times like these I would stand close to him and let my foot fall softly on the tube for his oxygen tank. He would get shortwinded and quiet down, or else panic and send me for a spare tank. Either way- things got quieter.

It was an idyllic job and Mr. Perry was one of those people you meet that you love and hate at the same time. He gave me a $1 raise within 2 weeks, remarking that for a city boy I was the best worker he ever met. His only complaint was that I "didn't know a weed from a rosebush." I still have trouble with that.

The donut trial came up 30 days after my release and so I took the day off from Mr. Perry's to face the music in court. I was charged with Grand Larceny so this was serious. I had gotten a Public Defender but we had totally opposite opinions on how to deal with the charges. He wanted a jury trial- I wanted the Judge to decide right then and there on my guilt or innocence. In my opinion it would've have been disastrous for a Jury to have enough time to ponder any future evidence against me, while the Judge would be under pressure to arrive at a decision with the little evidence currently at hand.

The trial began and the Judge was a mean woman who apparently knew Donnie, so she was ready to throw the book at me. Donnie had not expected that I would forgo the Jury Trial so all he had was the Warrant which did not satisfy all the criteria necessary to have been issued in the first place.

We arrived at a point where the Judge said that "you would admit that you have stolen a days pay from Mr. Laws?" I replied that I had and reaching for my wallet offered to pay him the $30 in question. The Judge then screamed at me- "What did you do with the donuts?" My lawyer said not to answer but I did- I said, "I don't know what happened to them. You have to tell me." She yelled some more about the lack of definitive evidence and found me Not Guilty "against her better judgement." And so I was free.

Sue and I were now 3 weeks away from our wedding date of July 4th,1986. We had also just found out that we were expecting a baby!

The Locked Room

It all started with a trip to Mexico. Sue and I had been married for 10 years at the time and we decided to re-visit Cancun, where we had spent our first honeymoon. So, leaving Sarah, our daughter, who was about 9 years old, with her grandparents, we set off; confident in the ability of our teenage sons to act responsibly in our absence. We were half right in our judgment.

What we had forgotten to take into account was that the period of time we would be gone was also the week of “homecoming” for 3 area high schools. Now, for those who don’t know what homecoming is, I’ll explain. For some reason; maybe related to football, or the prom; each year high school students have a weekend of absolute insanity to celebrate. And if your house is the scene of an unsupervised homecoming party while you are away, my advice is to not go home.

Simply put, our youngest son, who shall remain nameless here because he knows who he is, decided to hand out fliers announcing an “open house” at our home. I never saw one of these alleged fliers personally, but I imagine that they said something along the lines of “Come wreck my parent’s house and steal stuff like furniture.” And, friends being friends, the masses happily complied with the request implied by the invitation.

On Sunday morning; early Sunday morning; and I mean very early Sunday morning; Sue and I were awakened in our hotel room overlooking the Gulf of Mexico by a phone call from the Maryland State Police barracks in Westminster, which was located several miles from our house. I immediately declined to make a statement; out of habit; before realizing what I was hearing.

The gist of the matter was that there had been some sort of party at our house the night before; actually I think the State Trooper said for 2 nights before; and that we should come home. We were scheduled to depart the next day for Baltimore and seeing that the event had passed, we decided to wait for our scheduled flight.

Arriving home late the next day we were shocked at two things; the damage that was inflicted upon our humble abode; and the fact that no-one had been arrested. Some furniture was gone, most notably the little Louis XIV end table which my parents had purchased in 1966. We found it by accident several days later, smashed in a roadside ditch. There was not a light fixture in our house that was undamaged, and our neighbors windows had been shot out. But nobody was in jail.

Later descriptions recounted that the police were throwing the partiers out of the front door, only to have the kids going back inside through the back door. And, the fact that the police actually thought that one of the kids had brought a Louis XIV end table to the party, and allowed that person to leave with it; well, that really took the cake.

While cleaning up this unholy mess; that’s right, the kid didn't even try to clean it up; I was livid. And, since I was due back at work at 7:30 AM in the morning and was clearly going to get no sleep, as I cannot sleep in squalor, about every 10 or 15 minutes I was at the door of the younger boy’s bedroom, cursing and generally acting insane. In my defense I would have to say that at the time, and in those circumstances, I was not in a normal state of mind.

The next morning saw me back at work, exhausted from cleaning up. And, to my surprise, everyone at work had heard about the party and the destruction at my house. So, I had to put up with quite a bit of ribbing about leaving teenagers home alone. And to make matters worse, by the time I got home from work, our son had run away. This began a 5 day odyssey which would rival the exploits of Homer’s “Odyssey” as I went in search of him. In addition to feeling guilty about yelling at him; which was absurd, since he needed to be yelled at; I was worried for his safety. And watching Sue live in torment at his absence only made me angrier at him. But clearly he needed to be found.

Though I looked everywhere, I never did locate him and he returned to school unbeknownst to us, on the 5^th day. This is the point at which the school authorities got involved and notified DSS. It’s also where this story begins to get interesting, and funny.

I was sitting in my office at Soil Safe, a company I was working for at the time, when I got a call from the State Police, again. The trooper on the phone was extremely courteous and nice, which raised my suspicions immediately. He wanted to know if I could come down to the barracks in Westminster to sign some papers concerning my son’s return home. I asked what kind of papers, and could they be faxed. He fell silent for a moment and then said that I needed to come in or they would have to come get me.

Realizing that our son had been in a locked principal’s office with 2 State Troopers interviewing him; without the presence of his parents or legal counsel; I recalled Hamlet and I, too, smelled a rat.

At the time I used to carry a small handgun with me everywhere. And of course there were always some left handed "cigarettes" to be considered as well. I agreed to meet the trooper at the barracks in about an hour, and then left the office.

Now, I am not the cleverest of individuals, but, having smelled a rat, I proceeded with caution. At the time I owned no vehicle or even property in my name. The vehicle I did drive was registered to Soil Safe. So, I decided not to go the police barracks, electing instead to park at a McDonald's located about ¼ of a mile down the road. I placed my pistol and cigarettes in the vehicle, locked it, and then left the key under the tire. Then I walked to the barracks.

Entering the barracks I approached the little glass window which separated the troopers from the reception area. I gave my name and was invited inside. As the door closed behind me I was thrust against the wall with my arms wrenched behind me and my jacket pulled up over my head, completely immobilized. The questions came fast and furious; “Where’s your gun Mr. Williams?”; followed by “Where’s the pipe and marijuana?”; and, “ Can we search your vehicle?”

Immediately I realized that they had pumped my kid for every bit of info about me that they could get from him. I was not at all angry with him; he was about 15 and definitely at a disadvantage without some sort of counsel during their interrogation of him. So, it was easy for me to look them in the eye; after they let me down off the wall; and inform them that I had no gun, no drugs and moreover, no vehicle. Of course they did not believe me and frog marched me to the parking lot demanding to search my vehicle. I showed them my keys and there was no vehicle key on the key ring. I also invited them to search the DMV database so as to satisfy them that I did not, in fact, even own a vehicle. Likewise with the gun, as it was not registered in my name, but to one Bob Wilson in Florida, where I had purchased it several years prior.

With these formalities out of the way, I was taken to the top floor of the barracks, placed in a locked room with a Trooper Sergeant and a woman from DSS. I was told that I was not under arrest and this was just a routine questioning about my son’s safety at home. I asked why the door was locked if I was not under arrest and was told that this was for my own safety. Then I was handed a form and told that my signature was an acknowledgment of my rights and I was required to sign it. I refused, as it was actually a waiver of my rights, allowing me to be questioned without counsel.

There was a tape recorder present and when it was switched on the DSS lady said, “This is an informal hearing with Mr. Williams and we have requested him to sign an acknowledgement of his rights. Mr. Williams, do you agree to this interview?” I replied, “That is a waiver of my Miranda rights, and if I am not under arrest, why is the door locked?” The DSS lady hit the stop button on the recorder. Take 1.

The Sergeant got tough and informed that I was to answer all questions and if I got wise with the DSS lady he was going to deal with me. The tape player was restarted anew with the same preamble by the DSS lady, to which I now replied, “Please note that this is the second attempt to interview me against my wishes and the first tape has been taped over.” This went on for about another 30 minutes, during which time I was asked where my vehicle was and how, if I did not have one, I was able to get from Baltimore to Carroll County in time for the interview. My reply; “I hitched.”

For the next three hours we parried back and forth; I wish I had a copy of that tape. I was like Clarence Darrow, fending off each question with a question of my own. I even found out that the DSS lady was a single mom and that she herself sometimes hit her son, even though that was not an issue  that was ever raised with me. She then threatened to take my children away from me, placing them in the custody of the county. My reply; "Go ahead, they're a pain in the ass; even you hit your own kid. So, you want 'em; they're yours. Where do I sign?" I do believe, that in the 15 years she had been doing this for a living, this was the first time that offer ever came her way.

During the 3 hours, a different officer would come into the room and ask things like, “Whose car is blocking the fuel truck?”, and “What color is your car Mr. Williams?” This only made me tap the microphone in an effort to see if it worked as I had already answered that question several times and now stated that I would not answer that question again.  In fact, I began to ask questions about the actions of the State Police on the night of the party. Things like, “Why were no trespassers arrested at my home?” and “Why were people allowed to leave with my furniture under the eyes of the officers present at the scene?”

After 3 hours I was released from the locked room and followed as I left the barracks on foot. I went to a Burger King nearby the McDonalds where I had left my car, got a hamburger, and waited until my “tail” was gone before walking back to the McDonalds to retrieve my vehicle. Sitting in the driver’s seat I reached down, feeling the reassuring weight of my pistol. Then I smoked a “cigarette” and went home.

Father's Day

This is a photo of me from 1987, the year I became a father. I already had 2 stepsons, but the haunted, frightened look on my face is that of a newly minted Dad. Sarah had been born that winter and I hadn’t slept since she came home.

It’s Father’s day; again. Being a father did not come “naturally” to me. I was as ill-suited for the role as my own parents were. The only difference is that I have always been willing to admit it. The daily grind of being a parent is probably only exceeded by the daily grind of being a kid.

Now, as a kid you have less money than your folks, and more time on your hands. But, for the parents it’s just the opposite; they may have more money than the kids, but it doesn’t go very far because they have kids. And as far as time goes, forget about it. It will be at least 18 years from the birth of your first child until you will have any real spare time again. And, by then you will be too old to do stuff anyway.

However, as I look at my kids today; and the grandkids; I’m glad to have made the journey and come through fairly intact. I even feel a real sense of satisfaction. The future is assured.

Thanks Keith, Shane and Sarah. I'm proud to be your father.

Baltimore Police Van - 1986

This is an excerpt from “It’s Only Me”, a memoir I wrote back in 2009. It concerns my time in ta Police Van in Baltimore. With that subject being so much in the news this past week I thought I would share my own experience with the subject.

To begin with I had no idea what "minimum wage" was. It had been awhile since I made $2.50 an hour in the paint factory, and being a Merchant Marine had spoiled me in that regard. It was now 11 years later and the minimum wage was only $3.35 per hour! So I started at a Royal Farms Convenience Store as a clerk, working nights and waiting for a better job to rear its head. It took 5 days.

The donut delivery guy came every evening at 7PM and the donuts were fresh. They were made at Donut Delite on the site of the present day Camden Yard Stadium in Baltimore. We were horizontal to Babe Ruth's birthplace. Nearby was where the circus train unloaded the elephants each year and I would re-arrange my whole day to go and see them walk to the Arena.

Anyway, back to the donut guy. He was paying $5 an hour for a 6 hour day which beat what I was making in 8 hours. So I got hired on and assigned to a route that took me through 3 counties. It was at this job that I learned all the back roads of the adjacent counties. I had a lot of freedom and all the donuts I could eat. It was 7 days a week with no holidays off.

Donnie Laws was the boss. He owned several routes and had vans for each one. They were specially fitted with racks for the donut trays to slide in and out easily. My job was to deliver the fresh donuts and remove the "day olds." Everything was done by Invoice, so we carried no cash.

Each day at 2 PM I would load up at Donut Delite and head out for my deliveries. Donnie was the type of guy who would think nothing of sending you out in a truck with no gas and a broken gas gauge. This was a constant source of irritation. Well; that and the fact that he constantly referred to me as "that New York Jew boy" behind my back.

At the end of each day I would return the "day old" donuts to a trash bin located outside Donut Delite and across Martin Luther King Blvd. from the "projects." The kids who lived there had drug addicted parents and didn't get much in the way of treats. So each evening when I returned there was a crowd of kids waiting to ask for some of the "day olds." I would always give some away and throw the damaged ones in the trash bin. This bin would get picked up every two days and transported to the rail yard where it was shipped out to somewhere as "hog feed." When Donnie would catch me giving donuts away he would climb up on the dumpster and piss all over everything so that the kids would not get any treats. This was yet another sore point between us.

I was paid each Friday with a personal check- I was collecting Unemployment out of New York at the time. One Friday I was forewarned by another driver that Donnie was going to lay me off the following week on Wednesday. His brother in law needed the job. Then he was going to stiff me for the 3 days pay, knowing that I couldn't file a complaint due to the Unemployment issue. He was right about that, but there are other ways to skin a cat.

Taking his check over to his bank I cashed it. Getting back in the van I thought to myself, "How can I hurt this guy?" Inspiration came in a flash as I realized that I had about $1,500 worth of fresh donuts. And I was now also one day AHEAD in pay. Driving around in the city a bit I noticed that there were a lot of people sitting out on porches after the long winter had finally broken. It was now late April.

I pulled the truck up on a street that ran adjacent to North Avenue, in one of the poorer areas of the city. Stepping out into the early spring sun I shouted out, "Donuts, free donuts, fresh and warm!"

It was like a scene out of one of those jungle movies where the natives swamp the plane with arms outstretched for food. The trays were flying out faster than I could count and people were shoving bills in my hand, although I had not asked for any money!

Within minutes the van was stripped bare of donuts and I had to jump back in and race off. The rear doors were swinging wildly to shouts of, "Jack it up- get the wheels!"

I now had about $60 and 2 trays of donuts that I had stashed up front. I took these to Keiths Cub Scout Troop which was meeting nearby at the Harborplace that day. I was a hero to the kids as I handed out the donuts. I then parked the truck outside Donnie’s as usual, placing the keys in his mailbox and got in my car and drove home.

The next morning the phone rang and it was Donnie. He wanted to know where the donuts were. I feigned ignorance and then he let fly with what a donut stealing Jew boy I was and how he was gonna get me. I told him that I had no idea what he was talking about and not to call me anymore. I hung up, thinking that was the end of it. Sometimes you can be so wrong...

2 weeks later, on Mother’s day, I was out front washing the car when a police car passed up and then down the street in front of our house. This was very unusual and should have clued me in, but it didn't.

Stepping out of the patrol car I was approached by an officer who asked me if I was "Bob" Williams. This should also have clued me in as everyone ashore called me Robert. But I answered yes and then was asked to step away from my vehicle. This guy was going to cuff me for something but I had no idea what! He explained that Donnie had filed a complaint and though the warrant was not in the officer’s possession he had the right to detain me while the warrant was delivered. I was able to talk him out of doing the handcuffs in front of the neighbors and kids and then got in the back of the car and was taken away. Around the corner he stopped and handcuffed me.

We arrived at the local county station house to await the warrant. I was placed in a common holding area which had 6 bunks and 7 inmates- my addition bought the total to 8. There was a phone, which I was not allowed to use, on the wall just outside of the cell. It was very strange being locked up but I knew that things would work out. It was really a question of how long I was going to be here. To make it worse, I was scheduled to start working on a horse farm in Elkridge the next morning at 8 AM. So I was a little worried about making it there on time. It was now 7 PM on Sunday.

I was the only white prisoner and thinking of the movie "Hard Times" with Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor; particularly the "I'm bad" scene. Just then the biggest black guy in there comes up to me and asks, "What'd you do?" I replied that I had stolen some donuts. This produced some laughter and a scornful "We got us a creampuff motherfucker!" There were now some suggestions being tossed about concerning what could be done with a creampuff when the oldest guy in there, who had been snoozing on heroin, came to life. He explained that "The white boy ain't no fool- them donuts be worth duckies!" Then he went back to sleep.

The dynamics immediately changed with everyone wanting to know how the donut thing worked and could they get in on it? I explained that Donnie went to the Royal Farms store on Security Blvd and Forest Park Drive every night at 7 PM. I also added that he carried a lot of cash. You can imagine my joy when 3 weeks later Donnie was beaten and robbed at that location by a "big black guy."

Now that we were all friends they showed me how to use the phone. I had been calling out "Guard, Guard" and alternating that with "Officer, Officer" to no avail. The big black guy started to laugh and said, "Man, you new to this- you gotta do this to get the phone." He took his shoe of and started beating it against the wall while shouting "MOTHERFUCKER!!!" loudly over and over. This bought several guards. My new friend told the guard that "White bread needs to use the phone." The receiver was passed through the bars to me and the guard dialed O for Operator, instructing me to leave the receiver dangling when I was through. Prison Etiquette 101.

I called Sue, who was very upset, and explained that I would undoubtedly be late that night so don't wait up. I would call her when I knew something.

Shortly after this call the Warrant arrived and I was transported, again in handcuffs, to a Paddy Wagon and driven down to Baltimore City and the Southwest Precinct. This was a very old jail on Ostend Street which has since been razed. I was placed in a private cell next door to the only other prisoner that day- a drunk who had been urinating in public- at Harborplace on Mother’s Day- in full view of everyone there. He had been arrested by a female officer and was highly intoxicated and pissed off. So it was going to be a lonely night.

Around 1 AM on Monday morning I heard the cell block gate open and someone was at the cell next to mine asking the drunk some questions. He began by introducing himself as the "Pretrial Release Officer." I could tell by his voice that he was black and educated. He began asking the other prisoner questions, like his name and contact info. For every question asked he received a scathing racist reply. For instance, to the question "What is your address?" he replied, "I ain't telling nothing to no nigger so he can go up my house and rob it." The Pretrial Release Officer went from question to question without pause and never reacted to the abuse being heaped upon him.

When he came to my cell I was on my feet, and  at attention. I answered everything with "Yes, sir." This really surprised him and he started to leaf through my charging documents. He looked at me and asked for some contact info. I gave him Sue's number and address and told him he could also call Military Sealift Command in Bayonne, New Jersey to verify my identity. Although I was no longer an employee my security clearance was valid for 2 more years and I figured it couldn't hurt. He was impressed with my bearing as well as my response. He told me that the warrant should never have been issued as it didn't satisfy the “who, what, when, where and why” required by the law. He could not dismiss the Warrant but could get me out without bail if my responses were all correct and could be verified at this hour. He left promising to return shortly.

About an hour later he came back with a guard and my cell was unlocked. I was taken to the Magistrates Office where I was told that I had been unjustly confined but that I still needed to go to trial. Advising me to seek counsel I was then released at 3 AM.

For the full chapter hit this link;

http://robertwilliamsofbrooklyn.blogspot.com/2009/10/its-only-me-chapter-27-kids-and-jobs.html

"Jerky Turkey" - A Tex Avery Cartoon (1945)

In this cartoon from 1945 the Pilgrims land at Plymouth Rock to found a colony. There are many sight gags to enjoy taken in the context of the times. For instance, some of the Pilgrims are standing in line waiting for their cigarette rations. The war was not over yet and tobacco was still one of the rationed items.

When one of the Pilgrims does decide to go hunting for a turkey, he gets outwitted by the bird and ends up eating at Joes Diner. The turkey comes along as the two have mended their feud. The proprietor is a bear who ends up eating both of them for his holiday. The bird and the Pilgrim wind up inside his stomach, complaining about their fate, and wondering what they have to be thankful for.

A lot of the jokes in this cartoon are reflective of the home front in America during the war. Rationing and the black market are two of the main topics in this cartoon. The bird is a caricature of comedian Jimmy Durante.

Directed by Tex Avery, this cartoon was written by Heck Allen, and scored by Scott Bradley. The animation was done by the team of Preston Blair, Ed Love and Ray Abrams, while the voices were done by using radio actors such as Harry Lang, who was known for his work on the “Cisco Kid”, and Leone LeDoux, who actually made his mark in cartoons doing baby cries. This is a fun cartoon for children of all ages. 

"The Kings of Summer" with (2013)

This is the “new” coming of age film. It is a bit different than the innocence depicted in films such as “Stand by Me”, but in spite of that, the film is a pretty accurate reflection of today’s teenage perception of what it means to “become a man.”

The film depicts the reasons behind the decision by 3 teenagers to leave home and set up on their own over the summer. The three all have different issues with their families and the lure to be on their own is very strong. So, when 15 year old Joe; played by Nick Robinson; approaches his 2 buddies with his idea about building a home of their own in a clearing in the woods, they are ready to listen.

Joe lost his mother to illness a few years earlier and his relationship with his Dad is adversarial at best. Complicating things is the presence of a new woman in his Dad’s life; a relationship he refuses to acknowledge.

Joe has a severe crush on Kelly; played by Elin Moriarty; who is already in a relationship with some guy named Paul. After seeing her at school and being humiliated by her boyfriend Joe heads for home accompanied by his strange friend Biaggio; played by Moises Arias. Biaggio claims to be asexual. When the two cut through the woods on the way home they discover the spot where Joe decides that they should build a house. Joe wants his friend Patrick; played by Gabriel Basso; to join them.

Patrick has an array of survivalist books from which the trio makes plans to build their home. They pilfer materials wherever they can find them, dragging everything into the woods and actually building their home. Shortly after it is finished the three boys move in to begin their new lives.

Thinking that the boys have been kidnapped the town is searching for them frantically. The police know better; since the boys took money and tools from their parent’s homes when they left. It’s just a question of where they went.

The boys are learning that living off the land; while sounding appetizing; is not as easy as it appears. They find a small grocery store from which they are able to count on fresh meat each day, and so that becomes their main source of food. Hunting, fishing and cooking have proven too difficult for them.

As the days go by Joe misses Kelly more and more, and so makes arrangements for her to come visit them in the woods. She brings a friend along. Kelly has broken up with her boyfriend and Joe is still smitten with her. He is hoping that when she sees all that he has accomplished she will become his girlfriend. But instead she is attracted to Patrick and the two slip away together. This event causes Joe to have a sort of meltdown, which breaks down the bond between the 2 friends. Patrick destroys a portion of the house he helped to build and leaves. Biaggio wants to stay but Joe sends him away also. Now he is truly alone.

The police question Biaggio and Patrick; with Biaggio turning out to be the strongest of the two. He tells the police nothing. Joe, meantime, has run out of money to buy chickens at the food store and begins to actually hunt. He captures and kills a rabbit, but feels so badly about it that he cannot eat it. It has now been over a month since the boys left home, and Joe is the only one unaccounted for.

At this point Kelly tells Joe’s father about the secret location of the house and they head there to get Joe. The ending of the film involves a poisonous snake and a heroic act by Joe, which earns him the respect of his father. And although Kelly and Joe remain only friends, he comes away with a new understanding of himself, his father and life in general.

A very ethereal film in some respects, with intense acting on the part of all the principal players, this film illuminates the never changing angst of growing up.

The Wedding - July 4, 1986

The following is an excerpt from "It's Only Me". 

July 4^th, 1986 came and the wedding was set for 4PM at the Church with a reception to follow at the Greenspring Valley Golf and Hunt Club. We were set up in a big tent on the edge of the golf course with the food catered and a large ice sculpture done by the Chef at the Club.

My best man, Seth Herman, and my friend Michael Held, were both on hand at the church to handle any problems associated with Ben; who lived around the corner; should he decide to make an appearance. I think the plan was to put him in the trunk of a car until Sue and I were gone, but nothing ever did happen.

4 PM came and Sue was late and I was worried and pissed off. She arrived 10 minutes later and I took my place at the Altar as she began the march down the aisle with Keith and Shane. I was overcome with the beauty of her walking towards me to spend our lives together.

Arriving at the Altar she turned to face me and we held hands. The Pastor blessed us and did the vows. I was crying the whole time. Whether it was from release that the last 2 years were behind us or because I would never know how our courtship would’ve gone without all the problems, I can’t really say. But I was very happy when Sue said I do and the Pastor pronounced us Man and Wife.

We went to the reception and it was really very nice. The weather was just perfect- not hot and no rain. We had about 80 people in all, including my Dad and his new wife Alice. My favorite Aunt Gloria and Uncle Bobby were there also. And they had bought along Nana, my Grandmother on my Dad's side. She was very happy and smiling. It was the last time I would ever see her and I am happy to remember her like that.

Most of the reception is a blur. I remember leaving and the boys were looking a bit apprehensive, wondering if we were ever going to come back for them. They were staying with their Grandma Marlene and her husband Grant. Sue and I were going to Mexico. Our plane didn’t leave until the following morning so we stayed at the hotel by the airport.

We got in the room and Sue went to change clothes- coming out of the bathroom ready to consummate our marriage. I was busy with the envelopes we had received as presents. Sue told me to put them down, “Don’t you want to see what’s under here?” she said, referring to the sexy outfit she had on. I looked at her and said, “I know what’s under there- I want to see what’s in the envelopes!”

Fixing me with a hard look in her eyes she said, “Put the envelopes down and consummate our marriage.” I did- but then went back to the envelopes…

The next morning we flew to Cancun, Mexico. At the time Cancun was new, having just been created on the Yucatan peninsula of Mexico as an economic way out of the devastation wrought by a bad hurricane a couple of years before that had virtually wasted their economy. Also the traditional tourist areas of Tijuana, Mexico City and Acapulco were plagued with crime. Cancun would be the new tourist destination. Surrounded by Inca ruins there was a lot to see and do.

Our first night was a misadventure. The hotel had us on the 7th floor with a beautiful view of the sea. But the room was sweaty- it was actually humid and there was moisture on the walls! We called the front desk and they said they would be right up. After an hour or so we called again. This time they said there was no one available to fix anything until the morning. We asked for a new room and were told there were none. We tried to stay in the room but it was really uncomfortable. Usually I would be a screaming maniac in order to get my due, but I didn’t want Sue thinking she had made a mistake in marrying me so I had to be calm.

By midnight we had finally agreed on a course of action. Taking our luggage we went down to the lobby and set up on the sofas. We even brought pillows down with us. The manager asked what we were doing. We told him we couldn’t move until the morning when our air conditioning was fixed. A room was found immediately on the 3rd floor. This was actually an improvement because we could seee the iquanas on the beach and began feeding them with the chocolate covered almonds from the snack bar in our room. At $6 a pack the iquanas were very appreciative and began hanging out beneath our windows.

The next day we began exploring, signing up for all the tours to the ruins. Sue wanted to see the Pyramids. We took a bus and headed off to see them. When we got there a little kid was selling ices and was really aggressive at it. I told him no about 10 times before he went away. Sue and I made the climb up and then back down. By this time we were sweating and thirsty. Spying the boy with the ices I went to get some. When he recognized me he said, “No ices for you Senor!” before huffily walking away. Kind of like the Soup Nazi on Seinfeld!

One day we went snorkeling and after we were through were resting at the edge of the lagoon. I saw a rowboat, abandoned and drifting towards the mouth of the lagoon. Having some sense of respect for small boats I dove in and did a power crawl type stroke to overtake the boat. I flopped into it and rowed back to shore thinking I had impressed my bride with my aquatic prowess. Sue went to use the ladies room and I went to the bar for a drink. That’s when all the exertion I had put forth hit me. I never even got to order. I passed out and slid to the floor! Sue attributes this to the ices I had eaten in a small village we passed through on the way. They were really good, but in retrospect they probably contributed to this whole ordeal.

Coming to after only a few seconds I tried to get some help but no one would pay any attention to me! I started to crawl out of the shack that was a bar on the edge of the jungle trail. I didn’t get very far before I had to stop and just lay there, sweating and heaving. The Mexicans that passed me pronounced me a “Gringo addicto,” a drug addict. The Americans who passed me by took me for a drunk Mexican. But no one would help me!

Sue was with the tour bus which was about to leave. She would not go without me and so they came back to find me. I think they were afraid of getting into trouble if they lost an American. I was carried back to the bus and the driver mixed Coca Cola with salt and made me drink it. Before long I was back to myself but I think I scared the hell out of Sue! The rest of our time was spent in the markets and shops buying souvenirs and gifts for the kids.

The time passed too quickly and we were home again. But it was a beautiful trip and made me realize how empty all my previous travels had been without someone special by my side. Now we were home and it was time to find a real job.

Sue and I are still together as of this writing. But who knows, she could always change her mind...

"Butterscotch and Soda" - Little Audrey (1948)

I post a good many cartoons, but not enough of a variety to suit my granddaughters. Popeye can't really hold a candle to Dora the Explorer. So, stuck for an idea I googled the phrase “classic cartoons for girls” and came up with this character, Little Audrey, and I actually remember seeing a few seconds of these on TV when I was a kid. They were the ones that came on when I went to get a snack. Being a boy I wasn't interested in Little Audrey, but now that I've taken a look at one of these cartoons, I’m a bit intrigued.

   

Little Audrey is actually based upon the Little Lulu comic strip character created by Marjorie Henderson Buell. These cartoons came about between 1947 and 1958 when Paramount decided not to renew the Little Lulu series. Little Audrey’s voice is done by Mae Questel, who also did almost all of the other major female cartoon characters for Paramount, including Betty Boop and Olive Oyl.

The plot of this cartoon, which was the first of the Little Audrey releases, is fairly simple. Audrey can’t stop eating candy and her Nanny is at her wits end concerning what to do about it. In desperation she finally searches the entire house, discovering Audrey’s hidden stashes everywhere and destroying them all. When Audrey discovers her candy missing, she goes into shock and enters a dreamland of; you guessed it; Candy!

But even enough of a good thing can become too much and Audrey ends up locked in a dream world where the very things which she craves all seem to turn against her, singing out their warnings to her in a very clever song “Tummy Ache Blues”, written by Winston Sharples and Buddy Kane. When Audrey finally comes to, she is met by the face of her Nanny; who thought she was dying; but now holds out a box of chocolates, telling Audrey that she can have all the candy she wants.

These cartoons were the product of Seymour Kneitel and illustrators Al Eugster, Bill Hudson and Irving Spector. Though the Nanny character is a stereotype; just as the character of Little Audrey is; the Nanny is clearly the wiser of the two. Now, I wonder how this one will stand up next to Dora the Explorer?

Father's Day Loot!

Today is Father’s day so I get presents, phone calls and a day off. I’m sitting next to the banana tree Sue brought me, holding the chocolates and Olive Soap and Black Tea which I love so much. The soap and tea are from Sarah, the chocolates from Sue, and this picture was taken yesterday!

The best part, aside from eating at one of our favorite restaurants, will be the phone calls from the boys and our granddaughters. Last week, Aliyah, our oldest granddaughter; she’s nine; called us out of the blue just to say hi. Man, it doesn't get better than that.

Happy Father’s Day to all of the Dad’s out there. We did well!

"Fly My Kite" with Hal Roach and His Rascals (1931)

This is probably the first “Little Rascals”/”Our Gang” episode which I remember watching. It’s interesting to note that the name on the credits is “Hal Roach and His Rascals.” They went through two more changes in name as the years passed, finally becoming known mainly as “The Little Rascals.”

In this 1931 episode, “Grandma”, who is really just an old lady in the neighborhood, is having her usual day of fun with the neighborhood kids. She reads to them, feeds them and even boxes with them. The children are all from poor families and presumably the parents are all out working during the day, leaving the children at “loose ends.” She is the anchor which holds their little world in place.

Grandma’s son-in-law, a mean fellow named Dan, has promised to let Grandma stay in her home until she passes away. He had previously broken Grandma’s daughter’s heart with his philandering ways, which she blames for causing her daughter’s early death. With no money of her own to live on, she is forced to accept the promise that Dan will always take care of her.

But when Dan and his new girlfriend arrive at the home unexpectedly, they find Grandma roughhousing with the neighborhood kids. The girlfriend tells Dan that unless Mom moves out, she won’t move in. Grandma, hearing the arrival of the cab with Dan and his girlfriend in it, tells the kids to hide.

When Dan tells Grandma that he is kicking her out and sending her to the poorhouse, all seems lost. As Dan leaves the home he checks the mail, finding a letter informing Grandma that she is in possession of some gold bonds which will make her secure for the rest of her life. Dan takes the letter to an attorney who informs him that the bonds are transferrable and worth about $100,000; more than Grandma can ever hope to use in the few years remaining to her. He quickly returns to her home in an attempt to retrieve the bonds. Meantime, Grandma, while packing her belongings, has given the worthless bonds to “Chubby” for a tail on his kite.

Dan rushes home from the lawyer, and once there, he crushes Grandma’s glasses and reads the letter to her, informing her that the bonds she once held are worthless. But he’s in for quite a surprise when she informs him that the bonds have “gone up”. When he realizes that she has given the bonds to “Chubby”, he rushes outdoors to retrieve the kite, and the bonds. Meantime, Grandma, while packing her belongings, has seen the letter through the “lens” created by the fishbowl where the letter has been laying and dispatches the children to help “Chubby” retain the now valuable kite.

These films were the basis for many of life’s lessons in morality, honesty and hard work. In spite of the stereotyping of everyone in these films; the helpless old Grandma; the fat kid “Chubby”; the racist portrayal of Stymie and Buckwheat; and even the villainous son-in-law, complete with an evil looking moustache; were a staple each morning before I went to school. And, sometimes I think I learned more about life from these old films than I ever did in in class.

"The Talking Magpies" - Terry Toons (1946)

The Heckle and Jeckle series of cartoons were so popular in the late 1940’s and early 1950’s, that they quickly spawned imitators. Paul Terry, with his Terry Toons productions, was one of the better ones. He chose to call his birds “The Talking Magpies”, as that is how many younger kids referred to the Heckle and Jeckle cartoons.

In this release from 1946, the Mr. and Mrs. Magpie find a new home. But, due to their constant bickering they are hounded by the old man, who looks like a cross between Popeye and Farmer Grey. In the ensuing battle of wits listen for the Cary Grant imitation, as well as the famous phrase from Walter Winchell, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. America”, delivered by one of the magpies from inside the old man’s radio.

After trying everything he knows to rid himself of his pesky new neighbors, he is finally driven from his own home. The moral of this cartoon is, I suppose, that the hell you know always trumps the one you haven’t yet experienced. An interesting note on the subject of the housing shortage being at the heart of this cartoon; it was  a mirror of what was actually going on in society at the time; as tens of thousands of GI's returned home, some with new brides, and all seeking a place to live.

Happy 26th, Sue

This is Sue, my wife. I have written about her here and also posted photos of her before now. But this is one of my favorites. It really captures the inner light of the woman I married; so different than myself. When I see only darkness, she sees only light. That's what makes this picture so special to me. And, with all the ups and downs of marriage, I do believe we would both do it all again. That's love...

Happy 26th, Sue. Love grows.

Happy Fourth of July!

And to the rest of my fellow Americans, have a safe and happy Fourth of July. A lot of thought went into the creation of our nation; let's not allow partisan bickering to tear it all down. And, wherever you are today, "let freedom ring!"

Father's Day

This beautiful cactus was given to me by my daughter Sarah for Father’s day. It bloomed just in time. And it will keep on doing that for years to come. She was moving this weekend; the first time that she has lived in a different city than Sue and I; and so I will not see her until next weekend. Our other two sons, Keith and Shane, live in New York and Texas; respectively; and though we have gotten used to that, we miss seeing more of our grandkids.

The cactus is an important link between Sarah and I. She was vacationing with friends, years ago, as a kid, on the Outer Banks, where she dug some sand cactus up to bring home to me. Nobody, not even I, thought that it would survive the winter weather inland. Well, it did, and has split into a couple of groups, traveling from house to house with Sue and I over the years. Each year, around this time, they too, give me beautiful blooms. It makes me think about the doubters out there, myself included, who didn’t think the plant would survive.

Another, very special gift is the Red Robin Beanie Babie pictured below, nestled with the other 2 gifts. That was a present I gave Sarah when she was sick about 14 years ago. She had scores of them, most of which are housed in my garage. She only took a few when she married and moved out. But, she took the Robin, which always made me feel extra special.  Now that she will be living so far away (a bit more than 2 hours – or, the other end of the earth) she has returned it to me, and I will keep it close at hand as a way of feeling close to her.

Being a father is tough, but being my kid was probably tougher in many ways. It’s hard to grow up, and it’s hard to grow old. There’s no winning the war against time. It merely marches on past us, leaving us in its wake. No matter; I will always have this Robin to remind me of the daughter who learned to fly. And that  trumps any sense of loss I will ever feel.

The Girls are Back in Town.

As you can see, our two eldest granddaughters; Aliyah, 7 and Trinity, 5; have arrived from Texas with our son Shane, for a visit. They’ll be here for a few days and then they'll be off to Maryland for the Pensinger Family Reunion. Then it's back here for a few days before heading home.

Our daughter Sarah will be taking them to the National Whitewater Center here in Charlotte tomorrow. I think they’re going rock climbing…. And, of course, Sue and I have a few things planned with them as well. They're staying with us, so we get first dibs. It's really great to see them again.  Grandkids; if you haven't got any yet;  you should get some. They'll make you feel young again.

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.

Halloween - Trick or Treat!

Happy Halloween to everybody. The Trick or Treating began at 6 and went on until 8. We had all sorts of ghouls and goblins. We even had some politicians and super heroes as well. Halloween is so much different now then when I was a kid. Gone are the days of "egging" passing cars and "chalking" the stoops of the folks who didn't answer the door. The kids now are almost always accompanied by adults. Too many "Nightmare On Elmstreet" movies I suppose. Today's parents tend to think that there is a real Freddy Krueger lurking behind every door.

When I was about 3 years old the TV station used to broadcast "The Wizard of Oz" every Halloween. And let me tell you, those Flying Monkeys scared the hell out of me! Come to think of it, they still do...

Some things never change, while other traditions come and go. Halloween seems to be here to stay. And I like that. The kids get to use their imaginations, and the adults get to have a bit of fun. Some of the grownups come along with their kids dressed as Stripers, Klondike Dance Hall Girls, French Maids and an assortment of titillating costumes. The men are usually dressed as, hmmmm.... I guess I'm too busy looking at the French Maids and the Klondike Girls. I wasn't going to dress up as anything this year, but at the last minute I opted to be a Human Pumpkin, as evidenced by the shirt I am wearing.

So, to all of you who are trick or treating, as well as those that are giving out the candy, Happy Halloween! Have a good one, a safe one and have some extra candy on me.

Washington Said It - Don't Blame Me!

My recent Kent State Post got me an e-mail from my daughter, Sarah, which likened what I said to paragraphs 20-25 of George Washington's Farewell Address in New York at the end of the Revolutionary War. This was, to say the least, high praise indeed, coming from her. But, truthfully I had no idea what Washington said in paragraphs 20-25 of his farewell Speech. So I set out to rectify that, in case it should ever come up I want my daughter to think I knew all about it, but seeing as she reads this thing, I guess I'm not fooling anyone. But here it is, don't blame me, Washington said it- although I do tend to agree with him. Google the entire speech, it's worth reading as we plunge into a campaign year that is sure to be filled with venomous rhetoric and false allegations from both sides of the aisle. You'll find me sitting quietly by...

Paragraphs 20-25 of Washington's Farewell Address in New York

20 I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the state, with particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally.

21 This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled, or repressed; but, in those of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their worst enemy.

22 The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty.

23 Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind, (which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it.

24 It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and will of another.

25 There is an opinion, that parties in free countries are useful checks upon the administration of the Government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of Liberty. This within certain limits is probably true; and in Governments of a Monarchical cast, Patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in Governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And, there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.

20 I have already intimated to you the danger of parties in the state, with particular reference to the founding of them on geographical discriminations. Let me now take a more comprehensive view, and warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirit of party, generally.

21 This spirit, unfortunately, is inseparable from our nature, having its root in the strongest passions of the human mind. It exists under different shapes in all governments, more or less stifled, controlled, or repressed; but, in those of the popular form, it is seen in its greatest rankness, and is truly their worst enemy.

22 The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension, which in different ages and countries has perpetrated the most horrid enormities, is itself a frightful despotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction, more able or more fortunate than his competitors, turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty.

23 Without looking forward to an extremity of this kind, (which nevertheless ought not to be entirely out of sight,) the common and continual mischiefs of the spirit of party are sufficient to make it the interest and duty of a wise people to discourage and restrain it.

24 It serves always to distract the Public Councils, and enfeeble the Public Administration. It agitates the Community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the animosity of one part against another, foments occasionally riot and insurrection. It opens the door to foreign influence and corruption, which find a facilitated access to the government itself through the channels of party passions. Thus the policy and the will of one country are subjected to the policy and will of another.

25 There is an opinion, that parties in free countries are useful checks upon the administration of the Government, and serve to keep alive the spirit of Liberty. This within certain limits is probably true; and in Governments of a Monarchical cast, Patriotism may look with indulgence, if not with favor, upon the spirit of party. But in those of the popular character, in Governments purely elective, it is a spirit not to be encouraged. From their natural tendency, it is certain there will always be enough of that spirit for every salutary purpose. And, there being constant danger of excess, the effort ought to be, by force of public opinion, to mitigate and assuage it. A fire not to be quenched, it demands a uniform vigilance to prevent its bursting into a flame, lest, instead of warming, it should consume.