3 Poems - The Thinker. A Trilogy.

 

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

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

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

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

 

Losing me.....

I'm not half as funny as I used to be,

"Just not quite me",

some might say.

But, I'm not twice as loony as I ought to be,

due to some things, you see

which came my way.

I just try and take it day by day,

and still have my say,

and often do.

The hardest part to do is to hang on to you,

and then ask you to

not slip away......

Of Saints and Martyrs - Kim Davis

noun

1. a person who is killed because of their religious or other beliefs.

"saints, martyrs, and witnesses to the faith"

verb

1. kill (someone) because of their beliefs.

"she was martyred for her faith"

An alternate usage is one of a person who displays or exaggerates their discomfort or distress in order to obtain sympathy or admiration, as in "she wanted to play the martyr".

The illustration above is of St. Valentine in prison before being beaten, stoned and beheaded for marrying people. I thought it was an appropriate choice for this post.

There seems to be some confusion about the meaning of the words Martyrs and Saints these days. Kim Davis, the new hero of the Religious Right; who are always right; is currently being hailed as a martyr, in spite of her not having given her life for her beliefs. No one has said Saint as of yet; but give them time.

Ms. Davis was able to endure just 5 days of confinement before her faith caved in. Kind of like those first 3 “Holy Unions” she was in before she got married for the 4^th time in a "lifetime commitment" to her current husband.

Ms. Davis has not been asked to die for her beliefs and currently still receives her $80,000 per year salary of tax payer money to perform no work. Oh the horror!

And, as far as Sainthood goes, Ms. Davis has quite a long walk to make before she even comes close to the mark. Here’s a link to the 8 well known Saints and the ways in which they were executed for their beliefs;

http://www.ranker.com/list/the-8-most-brutal-deaths-of-saints/ivana-wynn?format=SLIDESHOW&page=7

Happy Valentine's Day!

This live version of "Sad and Blue" is one of my favorite Valentine's Day songs. It always evokes images in my head of dining along the banks of the Seine, with Notre Dame in the background and a bottle of wine on the table.

February 14th is a very special day at my house. Not only is it Valentine's Day, but it's also my daughter Sarah's 28th Birthday!

This is me holding Sarah about 2 days after she was born. She was a handful!

"Flipped" with Madeline Carroll and Callan McAuliffe (2010)

If you have ever been a hopelessly love besotted teenager then this movie will strike a chord with you. It is a film about missed opportunities and words unspoken. Bryce; played by Callan McAuliffe; moves in next door to Juli; played by Madeline Carroll. They are both about 7 years old. Juli falls for Bryce immediately; a passion not shared by Bryce. This sets them both up for about 6 years of beating around the bush before the inevitable comes to pass.

Juli is relentless in her pursuit of Bryce, to his utter dismay. This quirky girl is involved in things beyond his limited imagination. For instance, she sees the beauty of the old cypress tree which sits at their school bus stop. When it is slated to be torn down, she does something about it. She climbs the tree and refuses to come down until her father is called to get her. Bryce could have lent his support but doesn’t, giving in to some peer pressure regarding Juli’s being different.

When Bryce’s grandfather Chet, played by John Mahoney, gets involved in helping Juli to repair her family’s run down garden, Bryce begins to see a different side of her. But he is still too immature to understand his feelings about Juli, so he doesn’t act upon them.

The movie is told from the perspective of both Juli and Bryce; with each one recounting their version of the same events, all of which lead up to a beautiful ending. This is a film about love, families, and pre-conceived notions and above all, taking chances. Sometimes the very thing you want is so close that you cannot see it.  Rob Reiner has given us another perfect film.

"The Gift of the Magi" by O. Henry (timeless)

O. Henry, along with the likes of Mark Twain, marked a new type of journalist; ones who became serious writers; a tradition which has continued to the present day. With such luminaries from Mark Twain on through to Jimmy Breslin and Norman Mailer, journalists have become, increasingly, some of the leading writers of their times. O.Henry was no exception.

With his incredible feel for irony, and knowledge of human behavior, he wrote of the daily struggles which faced the generation of his time. Jim and Della are emblematic of that struggle, and the love for one another which enabled them to make it through the rough times.

The irony in the story is apparent, as well as their love for one another. The illustration I have posted here is the "Adoration of the Magi" by the Italian Artist, Sandro Botticelli (1445-1510). This is a perfect Christmas story, which I have enjoyed for many years, thanks once again, to a grammar school teacher who really had a heart, and made a difference. Mrs. Denslow, this one's for you.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

"Blesss Me, Ultima" with Miriam Colon (2012)

This film is like a poem. In fluent and ethereal ways the story unfolds about a boy, his grandmother and a bond that exists between them. The story takes place during the middle of World War Two in New Mexico.

A woman comes to live with Antonio’s family; the reason is never really clear why. It is known to the viewer that she delivered all of Antonio’s brothers and sisters. She has a reputation as a “curandera”; or a type of healer; and the boy is immediately drawn to her mystique. Adding to that aura is the way others react to her. They seem to want to keep her distant, which puzzles Antonio.

The boy and the woman take walks together and she teaches him all that she knows about the plants which cure; as well as the ones which will hurt. As they become closer he begins to understand that she is truly at one with nature. Indeed, nature is her God. She speaks with the trees and the rivers, passing that understanding to Antonio.

When a man in the village inadvertently stumble upon a coven of young women holding a blood sacrifice in the woods, he feels he has been cursed, and so takes to bed, seeming possessed and ready to die. No doctor; or Priest; has been able to cure him. This simple woman, who is usually reviled as a witch, is called upon to rid his body of the poison within; be it real or imagined. She takes Antonio with her only after he tells her he is not ashamed to be with her.

What follows will alter Antonio’s life and perceptions of those around him. And as time passes and the old woman gets ready to pass on, she reveals the biggest secret of all to Antonio; the secret of who we are and how we are connected to the world in which we live.

Fluently directed and well written, this film is carefully paced and will leave you thinking about life; and death; just in a different way.

This film is from a contemporary classic novel first released in 1972. It has won many awards for literature and is emblematic of the Chicano struggle for identity in a multicultural society. For more about the book, see Wikipedia at;

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bless_Me,_Ultima

Happy Birthday Sue!

Today is Sue’s birthday. I wouldn't tell you how old she’s not- but she is a couple of week’s older than me; and wiser, too. This photo; which is one of my favorites; was taken in New York about a year after we met in Baltimore, where I was sitting for my Third Mates License and Sue was working for Social Security. We've been together ever since, much to my good fortune and a lapse of judgment on her part.

We met when both of us had just turned 29; and hopefully were old enough to know who we really wanted to spend the rest of our lives with. Sue, thanks for letting me be your husband. I was waiting for you to come along. I just never understood what took you so long.  

Happy Birthday Sue - you still light up my life...

Dinner at the Club

Last night Sue and I had dinner at one of the local marinas to celebrate the 4^th, and our 27^th anniversary. We started out with drinks on the veranda; that’s an ice tea in my hand; and then moved on to dinner inside, just as it began to pour outside.

And by the time dinner was through, sunny skies had won the battle between the forces of nature; prompting me to think how much marriage is like that. There are storms, some with thunder and lightning; and even occasional hail; but the sun always breaks through in the end.

"What's Eating Gilbert Grape" with Johnny Depp and Leonardo DiCaprio (1993)

When Albert Grape passes away he leaves behind a family of 5; a wife with emotional problems, 2 daughters, and two sons; one of whom is developmentally disabled. Johnny Depp plays Gilbert Grape, the older brother to Arnie, played by Leonardo DiCaprio in one of his finest roles ever.

Set in the town of Endora, where nothing ever happens, this film explores the nature of relationships and family. Gilbert feels trapped by his dead end job working in the town’s old grocery store. There is a new supermarket located just outside of town which serves as a harbinger of change which is set to come to Endora, and seems to symbolize the impending changes that will take place in Gilbert’s life, if he will only let go.

A new girl named Becky, played with great sensitivity by Juliette Lewis, arrives in town at the same time that Gilbert is having an affair with the wife of a local insurance salesman. She is able to understand and deal with Arnie, and does not view him as an obstacle to a relationship with Gilbert. As he begins to see that Becky may be the key to his freedom, he questions his relationship to the older woman. He realizes that he has been taking care of her emotional needs, much in the same way that he has always had to care for his widowed mother and siblings.

Gilberts mother, who was once the local beauty pageant winner, deals with all of the sadness and problems in her life by eating. She tops 500 pounds and has not left the living room sofa in years. She eats and sleeps there, with the family catering to her every need, which has a stifling effect on the rest of the family. They love her, but her problems complicate their own lives. It’s as if they cannot move forward as individuals while having to care for their mother. And she knows this.

Arnie manages to get into mischief in many different ways; the least of which is climbing the town’s water tower. Eventually this gets him taken into custody by the town police, which forces his mother to leave the house for the first time since her husband’s passing. She goes to the police station, demanding his release. When the family leaves the police station with Arnie, she sees most of the people in town have gathered to stare at her, some even taking pictures.

Realizing how her emotional problems have affected her family, she goes home and climbs the stairs to her bedroom for the first time in years. Gilbert and his sisters tuck her in, relieved that she is going to finally get some rest. But her excessive weight causes her to suffocate in her sleep, leaving the family seemingly rudderless.

But there is still one card left to play in this high stakes emotional drama, and Gilbert, along with his siblings, play that card, freeing them to live their own lives. A very emotional film, this movie underscores the ways in which all of our problems intersect with one another. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; we are all connected. What we do as individuals has an effect on all those around us. It’s up to us all to try and make those effects positive ones.

"Awaiting Delivery" by John Wiley

I don’t remember which book I read this in, but it was way back before I was blogging, or even e-mailing for that matter. It meant enough to me that I Xeroxed the story and have kept it for many years, so it’s worth sharing. It was written by John Wiley of Charlotte, North Carolina and was in a book which I had obviously borrowed from a library.

I found it  the other day in a stack of stuff I was putting in order; something I find myself doing more and more these days. Not for any particular reason; except to have a complete picture of who I am and the things which I like. This is one that I like. It cuts right to the random nature of our lives and how one tiny thing can affect another, underscoring; once again; that we are all connected. Here is  Mr. Wiley’s tale;

Awaiting Delivery by John Wiley

I work as a Postal letter carrier in Charlotte, North Carolina. One day a couple of years ago, I drove up to a mailbox. Christy, the young divorcee who lived there, was waiting by the side of the road. She said that she had a story to tell me.

About six months earlier, it seems that I had delivered a letter to her which had her street number on it but was addressed to another house with the same number on a different street in the neighborhood. She had to run some errands, so she decided to drop off the letter at the correct house.

It turned out that the letter had been intended for Stan, who happened to be single. They talked for a little while, and later on he called. They started dating and had been going out together ever since.

I was embarrassed about delivering the letter wrong, but I was pleased that I had brought these two nice people together.

A few months later, a For Sale sign went up in Christy’s yard, and then the wedding invitations were sent out. In short order the house was sold, the wedding happened, and Christy and her kids moved into Stan’s house.

A few months later, I saw a For Sale sign in their yard. I feared the marriage might be in trouble, so I made an excuse to go to their door and check on them.

Christy opened the door, smiled broadly, and pointed to her stomach. “We’re having twins!” she said. “This house won’t be big enough, so we have to move.”

As I walked back to my truck, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that my one mis-delivered letter was now giving two little yet-to-be-born people a shot at life. Awesome.

Note: The above story was originally published in "I Thought My Father was God" which was edited by Paul Auster of NPR's "All Things Considered." The book was released in 2002 and was part of NPR's National Story Project.

"Girlfriend" with Shannon Woodward and Amanda Plummer (2010)

What you see isn’t always what it appears to be; and people can’t always be counted upon to be what you'd like them to be; well, sometimes. But in this film by Justin Lerner from his script/screenplay, that axiom is the rule as you struggle with your own set of values in trying to figure out just who is good and who is truly bad in this thought provoking work.

Newcomer Evan Sneider is absolutely amazing as a young man named Evan. He has Down’s syndrome, and when his mother passes away, suddenly, he is left alone to figure out about life. He has always been in love with Candy, played by Shannon Woodward, but she is so far out of his league that he has never let her know his feelings. At any rate, Candy has a child by her ex-boyfriend Russ, played by Jackson Rathbone, or does she? Russ doesn’t think so, and so he does little to help Candy with the boy, leaving her desperate for money and evicted from her home.

When Evan offers her some money from the insurance his mother has left him, to help her out, she initially refuses his offer. But when she is actually put out of her house, she has a change of heart and accepts his money. He wants them to be boyfriend/girlfriend, and in an effort to justify her taking his money, she plays along.

Meanwhile, ex-boyfriend Russ is having a fit seeing her with Evan, after having caught her with another; married man; in the past. He questions whether he is truly the father of the boy, and this doubt eats at him. It doesn’t take too long before he begins to use Evan as a way of finding out.

Evan is trying to keep his wits as both Candy and Russ take advantage of him in a game which turns dark pretty quickly in this tense and well-paced drama. But, in the end it’s hard to tell who is really good, and who is really bad in this film. John Steinbeck said it well in “Grapes of Wrath” when the preacher says, “Maybe there ain't no sin and there ain't no virtue. There's just stuff people do. It's all part of the same thing.” 

"It Scared Me" ( for Sue)

It shook me up

to see you lying there.

The blood on the floor

made me scared.

Never felt so helpless

and didn't know what to do.

Was I thinking of me,

or thinking of you?

It's hard to say

what scares us the most.

The loss of your lover

or the love that you've lost.

Either way's a loser;

a turn of the cards.

While all the time you're thinking,

"God, why's life so hard?"

This was my reaction to Sue’s accident in the garage the other day. She gashed her head and had 6 stitches. I was worried about her, and also thinking of me being left alone; calling into question whether I am a good man, or a bad man. 

Happy Birthday Sue!

This is one of my favorite pictures of my wife, Sue. It was taken by someone while on a field trip for a class on something about the environment in Chesapeake Bay. The photo captures her joy, as well as her interest in almost anything. It also shows her as the tower of strength which she is. I can’t imagine living my life without her.

Today is her birthday; and this is my very public way of letting her know how much I still love her. There isn’t a day that passes in which I wonder why she chose to spend her life with me. I’m just glad that she did. Happy Birthday Sue, I love you more with each passing year.

The Kingsway Theater - A Love Story (1947)

In early 1947 my father was working as an usher at the Century Kingsway Theater on Kings Highway and Coney Island Avenue. He was just past 16 years old, and I’m not sure what they were paying him, but he was about to come into something more valuable than financial reward. When he went to work that night in early 1947, he had no way of knowing that his life was about to change forever. This was the night he met my Mom; but for whom I would not be telling this story.

My Mom had gone to the movies with her friend Judy; remember, I’m pulling this up from the deep recesses of my mind, so it may have been Doris instead. This was their usual routine on a Saturday night in the late 1940’s, when women wore headscarves and gloves; well, at least my Mom did. Also, she was Jewish, and just shy of her 18^th birthday. She was studying voice and auditioning for parts in the chorus of various  Broadway Shows.

My Dad, on the other hand,  was only 16 and a half, Irish Catholic, and apparently; according to my Mom; a bit lacking in the social graces. He was just ready to graduate from Maritime High School  aboard the SS Brown in Manhattan, and then ship out as a Merchant Marine Seaman; something I would later do myself.  Instead of asking her out on a proper date though,  he told her he’d be working the next weekend if she wanted to see him again! My Mom, of course, went home, and in the only diary entry she ever showed me wrote that “if he thinks I’m going back and pay to see him again, he’s got another think coming!” Strong words, but the next week she was back to see him; albeit still with her friend; and this time my Dad did ask her out for a date. They went to Prospect Park and fed the squirrels. These photos are from their 3rd date, as noted.

My friend John posted the picture of the Kingsway Theater on Facebook the other day, bringing back many memories; all good; of the good old days. And looking back, I don’t think that there was ever a time that I saw a movie at the Kingsway without recalling the story of how my parents met, and I came to be. Thanks, John.

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!"

"All You Need Is Love" - 45 Years Later

It was 45 years ago  yesterday that the Beatles broadcast “All You Need Is Love” for the first time on a show called “Our World.” This was the very first worldwide live satellite television broadcast. There were no politicians allowed on the show, which was broadcast from 19 different countries on 5 continents. It took 10,000 technicians to produce the show using a myriad of satellites, including Intelsat II and an array of ATS-1’s. The only country to pull out of the project, at the last minute, was the Soviet Union, which did so as a protest against the recent Israeli victory during the 6 Day War with Egypt.

At approximately 9:30 PM London time, the Beatles; with a live orchestra and some very prominent guests; began their now iconic anthem. The show was live, and that meant that although it was 9:30 PM in London, it was 4:30 PM in Brooklyn. The show was to be broadcast; in black and white; on Channel 13, part of the National Educational Television group, which eventually became todays Public Broadcasting Service.

400 million people watched this 2 hour event, starring such luminaries as the Beatles in England; Maria Callas broadcasting from Greece; Pablo Picasso coming from Spain; and others. In London, seated on the floor as the Beatles performed were Keith Richards, Mick Jagger, Eric Clapton, Graham Nash and Keith Moon.

There was a portion of the backing track which was pre-recorded, but the band was live, as was the 13 piece orchestra and the Beatle’s vocals. I had to hurry home from whatever I was doing that afternoon after school in order to catch the broadcast.  Since I did see it, I can only assume that I beat the clock. I remember watching it on the television, possibly with my Mom. (Originally, I remembered watching this in the middle of the night, but that is geographically impossible. In addition, further examination has shown me that June 25th, 1967 was a Sunday; so  my recollection of coming home from school is also incorrect!)

The record would not be released until July 7th, some 2 weeks away, after some slight alterations of the original master recording. So, along with the rest of the world, I had never heard this recording before, but even the limited scope of a 13" black and white screen  TV set which only received in mono could not mask the majesty of the song, or the message.  That message still rings today.

"Springtime for Thomas" with Tom and Jerry (1946)

This is a cute little Tom and Jerry cartoon from 1946. It was released under the title “Springtime for Tom” in some countries, but it’s the same old story everywhere. It's spring time, and everyone’s looking for their perfect mate. Tom and Jerry are no exceptions. This post is for Aliyah and Trinity, who will be visiting in a few weeks. And then we can watch these silly old cartoons together!

"Paper Heart" with Charlyne Yi and Michael Cera

Charlyne Yi and her friend, director Nicholas Jasenovec, set off across America to find the true meaning of love. Charlyne maintains that it does not exist. They start by asking people at malls and in parking lots just what is love? They then go on to Universities and consult with Professors of Chemistry and Psychology in order to find the answer.

This is a documentary. With a twist. It becomes a love story. Why? Because, as we all know, love often finds you when you least expect it, and not always when it is convenient.

Nicholas and Charlyne interview married couples of 50 years to find the secret of their success. They interview young children in a playground in order to obtain a more innocent impression of just what makes up this thing we call love.

But when Charlyne meets a young man named Michael at a party, while being filmed, you can see it happening. And it keeps on happening as the filming progresses. This film will make you laugh out loud, and when it's done, you'll be grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. Just like being in love. A wonderful, offbeat and unusual film.

Happy Fourth - I'd Do It All Again

This is Sue and I sitting on a wall outside our hotel in Cancun, where we went on our honeymoon 24 years ago today. Sue hasn't changed a bit - but somewhere along the line I got older! Marriage is not easy, it has pits and falls that rival all the peaks and valleys in the world. And I'd say, proudly, that in our 24 years of marriage we have seen our share of both. And survived them. That, in itself, is somewhat of a miracle, to say the least.

We still fight, sometimes about big things, and at other times about stupid small stuff. No magic formulas, just a whole lot of love beneath whatever it is that sometimes boils over on the surface. So the trick is, it seems to me, is to be able to ride the roller coaster of love without getting motion sickness. We have raised three kids, lived in 5 different houses and had several different jobs along the way. Somewhat of a typical marriage.

We both like different things, for instance, we rarely watch a movie together. My tastes run to older movies and her tastes are more likely to be first run features.In books and literature we are equally diverse. While I enjoy non-fiction almost to the exclusion of fiction, she enjoys the latest best selling fiction authors, the names of which I cannot even recall. But beyond these superficial differences we do have some similarities. We are both very interested in our family histories. We both love the simple things in life and don't require much luxury; though we do revel in it when available.

This is Sue and I last December. I look a bit older, but Sue looks just the same. Her eyes and her smile are unchanged. Her love and care for our children has not diminished, and has even grown with the addition of our grandkids. It seems as if she meets each challenge with the resolve of succeeding, while I often lament the winds of ill fortune, real or imagined.

Today will be a low key celebration for us. The grandkids are here for a visit, so we'll probably take in some fireworks, or just light off some of our own. Either way it will be one more milestone passed on a journey that has had us, alternately, at each other's throats, or in one anothers arms. I hope that never changes.

Happy Anniversary, Sue. And just so you know, I'd do it all again.