"Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths..." (Richard III)

I've written 95 posts since I started this All American Blog. That's a lot of posts. I must have a big mouth. Funny, though...well maybe not funny ha ha...but funny "odd" that in a social milieu, I prefer to listen. But let's go on to post #96. Tomorrow is Veterans' Day. I'm not sure what you are supposed to do on that day. No point in saying "Happy Veterans' Day". It used to be a day of remembrance for those who died in WWI. November 11 was Armistice Day while I was growing up. Since there are no veterans left from WWI...I'm guessing; if there is one, he can't be sexually active that's for certain. 1000 Mg's of Viagra would be of no use; but if by any chance it worked and he happened to have a partner, the aftermath would be enough to kill him. My father was a veteran of WWI and after a very long period of time and a drawn out and dragged out fight with the bureaucracy, I finally was able to get the Purple Heart that he deserved for the suffering he went through following his discharge. He died a triple amputee. Besides remembering my dad as a veteran, I have my own crew members to remember from WWII. I have written about my experiences in my book "Memoirs of a Tail Gunner", but there were things about the war that I simply could not write about. Anyway, I hope the American Legion or Jewish War Veterans will remember to put a flag at my father's grave in Long Branch, New Jersey. They won't be able to flag my grave because I'll be in a wall! Perhaps I'll live long enough to be one of the few veterans left from WWII, and I'll pass on the Viagra. I'd prefer swallowing a Mallomar.

I have a story about my Uncle Morris--my father's brother--whom I neglected to put in my book. (I could have written another 300 pages). Anyway, Uncle Morris married a Catholic lass named Celia (surname unknown). The offspring of that union were all brought up as Catholics with the name of Rosenberg; my name before I changed it legally to Ross. So there are many, many Rosenbergs spread around the country now. The only one I've been in touch with is my cousin Peter and his wife, Ginny. Peter Rosenberg is my dad's nephew of course and he still lives in the Atlantic Highlands in New Jersey where all of the little Catholic Rosenbergs were brought up. Peter's daughter and grandson live here in Florida, and when Peter comes to visit, we all go out to dinner and talk about family. My dad's name, therefore, may go on for decades, while mine may just "peter" out. (No pun intended!). My only hope for the name of Ross to continue is my grandson Adam, 25. Time is of the essence, here. The picture on the right is not of Rho and I...it's cousins Ginny and Peter Rosenberg, bless them. Au Revoir

"If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me..." (Henry VIII)

Just returned from a delicious Italian dinner. I had shrimp oreganato with a side of spaghetti. Also some split pea soup and a diet coke. If any of you out there in outer blogland are planning to retire shortly, save a little extra cash for dining out. There's an awful lot of dining out in retirement--partly because the woman in the house also wishes to retire from standing in front of the stove. Can't blame her. When I ask my wife what's for dinner, her standard response is "Reservations". We went with our friends Norman and Irene Margolies. Norman used to own a restaurant and he's the one who does most of the cooking at home, I imagine. So if he picks the restaurant we are assured of good food and service.

On Sunday we're going to pick up my sons, Bobby and Joel at the Ft. Lauderdale airport at 5:20. Of course, it probably will be at least a half hour later for them to get on to the curb where they are supposed to call our cell phone while we're parked in the lot reserved for cell phones. Then we'll drive to where they are on the curb and take them to their hotel on Federal Highway in Boca. After they check in we'll go to dinner at the Red Lobster, a short distance from the hotel. Then we'll drive back to our place, chat awhile and they'll take one of our cars to get back to their hotel. I think it's about three years since I've seen these guys so we'll have some catching up to do. I know I'm looking forward to it; I may have a few things for them to take back to Virginia. They're too grown up now--I almost can't handle it. Joel is 55 and Bobby is 52. Amazing. (Read the comments)

Buenos noches

"Oh! Call back yesterday; bid time return..." (R II)

Spent most of the day looking for a lost coin. It's a 1910 $20 gold piece worth now about $900. I haven't any idea of where I might have stashed it. I have two "safe" boxes in my clothes closet where I keep my coins. It's not there, nor anywhere else I looked. I'm not too thrilled about losing that coin because I've had it a long, long time, and it only cost me about $350 when I bought it. Rhoda says I should empty all my drawers--which I probably will, but I don't think I would ever put it in a drawer.

Thankfully for friendship, we made last minute arrangements for dinner with Mike and Helen H. One of our favorite places is "Sweet Tomatoes" where you can have all the salad and food that you want at the buffet stops for $6.49. Problem is that at these "all you can eat" buffets you take their word literally and eat all you can eat and perhaps even more. And how can you pass up the chocolate and french vanilla yogurt with syrup and sprinkles for dessert? Not very likely.

It's now Thursday and the cleaning ladies came at 11am--when I usually spring out of bed. So, I had to slink out of bed about 10am, and figure out what I was going to do until 1:30 when I planned to go to a Computer Club meeting. After all, at their web site, when you click on "Club Celebs" there is a nice article and picture of me mentioning the fact that I have had two books published. So, I figured the people at the meeting might be lining up for my autograph; to my shock, I figured wrongly. I walked in appropriately a smidgen late, but not a head turned. I carried a small notebook with me, so for spite, I signed my name in it--to see how it looked. Unfortunately, because I have tremors in my fingers, I couldn't recognize the name.

Oh. The cleaning lady who has been coming here every 3 weeks for as long as I can remember, announced that she can't come every 3 weeks anymore. I asked her how often she could come and she stunned me when she said "...every 2 weeks". I told her we are only 2 people here and it takes us 3 weeks to dirty the apartment, and that therefore we could no longer use her services.

Buenos dias despues manana.

"Trust not the physician; his antidotes are poison!" (Timon of Athens)

I'm waiting now for my poetry book, SHADOWS in the SUNSET to make its appearance on Amazon, Borders and 120 other online bookstores. It contains the same poems as MEMOIRS of a TAIL GUNNER and the early color edition I had titled ADDENDA and ADDENDA II. SHADOWS is a black and white version with most of the poems formatted with images by Barbara and Joel. (Son and DiLaw). It's much cheaper than the color version selling for about ten $. It's worth every penny. I slaved over those poems so if you buy the book I will feel emancipated by your proclamation ... I mean your by your "proclivity" to purchase.

I'm home alone now, and have been for most of the morning. Rho had a doctor's appointment and then went to lunch with Phyllis, a long time friend of ours. It's 3pm now and time for my afternoon pills. I know where they are, but have no idea what she puts in those little boxes that have the days of the week listed on them, along with "Morning, Afternoon, and Bedtime". If Rhoda leaves me--one way or the other--I'll be in a deep morass unless she leaves a note with the clues or a list in a section of her will. If not, I'm afraid this blog will peter out. (No pun intended).

Speaking of pills, doctors, and apothecaries--tonite in our clubhouse, "Sicko" is the film. We have a good film every Tuesday. I heard this was a good one; about health care in our country and around the world. Health care, to me at least, is in the top 3 issues to be decided in the next election (too bad it's not today). As far as I know, and my knowledge may be sciolistic, Hillary has the best plan--and I would love to see another woman President besides my wife. Perhaps Bill might give me a clue as to how to make the beds, empty the dishwasher, do the laundry, cook dinners, and take out the garbage. Caio.

"...good words are better than bad strokes" (Julius Caesar)

Yesterday was a big bust as far as winning is concerned on the ISLE CASINO's slot machines. I lost this time because I couldn't find a machine that I could bond with--one whose vibes were in tune with my own. However, the day was saved when we tried out the Deli in the Casino. When I walked in I saw this chocolate checkerboard cake which I used to devour by the pound when I was a teenager in the Bronx. Of course, I don't mean that particular checkerboard cake. But I couldn't wait to get a slice, so I ordered something simple like an entree of cheese blintzes and a diet coke. Finally, we got to the dessert part of the meal and I ordered a cup of high test coffee and a slice of that cake. I got to eat most of it, but Rhoda decided she wanted in on it, so she forked it in as well as I. When we got back to Delray, we finished the evening with a sparkling, lengthy game of Canasta. The guys won after a 3 hour stirring struggle.

When I checked my email after getting back to the apartment, I found one from Mike H. who claimed that one of his best features was that he was "sciolistic". Now I don't have a clue as to where and how Mike H. picked up this word, but I'll confess the word, "sciolist" is new to me and does not appear in my Webster's paper bound dictionary. So, I just went on to Google, typed the word and discovered what it meant. You might do the same. I answered Mike H. that I thought he was certainly not "sciolistic", that being such, as he claimed, his "attainment in life" and his "best feature"---he was not quite qualified to handle even that much sciolism!! Of course, this doesn't make Mike H. a bad person--I love him like a brother.

I believe "the Season" is upon us now; the snowbirds are back, the traffic is getting heavier, the restaurants and theaters are getting more crowded, and people are getting nastier. Unfortunately, what I look forward to all summer is getting to play golf with friends returning from the global warmed north, but when they call to ask when I can play, I must tell them that I can no longer play that game owing to painful conditions in my legs when I try to walk a short way. I was once a 7 handicap golfer--my proudest day was on March 25, 1989 when I played at the Glen Eagles Country Club. I played the front nine in one under par 36 parring every hole and birdieing one, and played the back nine with a 41 for a 77. Anybody wanna buy a set of Cobra senior flexed irons? Or my book, instead?

"...'tis but an hour ago since it was nine, and after one hour more 'twill be eleven" (AYLI)

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