"Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks..." (Hamlet)

The other day, I received an email from John Shekitka the grandson of the John Shekitka who was a member of my combat aircrew in WWII. Sadly, the elder John passed away a few years ago. The grandson said that his father, Jon, bought my book so that father and son could read about parent and grandparent's experiences which they could not learn about anywhere else but in my book. John said that the book was purchased from Amazon.com. Now, I certainly can expect a few dollars in royalties when the time comes.

I don't think I have the skill to describe how weird it is to me that I'm communicating with my crewmate's son and grandson. I just remember John Skekitka as a fun-loving guy with a sharp wit and admirable intelligence. And no children. Yesterday was Thanksgiving and I am thankful for the memories I have of the guy we called "Shekitka". Never called him, "John."

I wasn't there, myself, but some believe that the first Thanksgiving was celebrated in St. Augustine, Florida, on September 8, 1565. But most turkey enthusiasts claim that the first occurred at Plymouth Plantation in 1621. However, it was Abraham Lincoln who, in 1865, made Thanksgiving an official holiday to cook on the fourth Thursday of November. And ever since then, we in America, attempt to recreate the experiences of the Pilgrims. Unfortunately, we don't have any Indians to share our food with, nor does Flakowitz, the deli, have any attributes similar to those of Plymouth Plantation in 1621. Insofar as the menu of the celebration is concerned, I don't believe those freezing Pilgrims started off with matzoball soup and chopped liver. I don't think they said "Grace" either, and neither did we--the eight of us. Following the meal, we all returned to our apartment and shared fruit, drinks, cake, and conversation that lacked a scintilla of intelligent design. I mean is Thanksgiving a time to talk about analog and digital television? I doubt it. You're supposed to discuss the things you are thankful for--or would that be boring also?

Well, I might as well begin--which I ought to have done last night, but did not out of fear of being rejected in favor of DVDs, VCRs and High Definition. I am thankful for having lived long enough to have witnessed a black person elected to the office of President of the United States. I thought it was closure to my hearing Martin Luther King's speech in Washington in 1963--because I was there. I'm sure the next four years will be exciting ones with Obama as our leader. Of course, he still makes a lot of people nervous and jittery because his middle name is Hussein. I would suggest he change it to Moishe. It has a better ring to it. And we all will be thankful for that. Well--maybe not all.

"When angry count four; when very angry, swear." (Mark Twain)

Here it is, one day before Thanksgiving and only the usual mundane events are going on here that will not make too much of an interesting post. By usual, I mean chores or meetings or luncheons, or beaut;y parlor or doctors' appointments, or card games, or movies, or casinos, or...but you get the idea. Doctors' appointments occur at least two times a week--counting mine and Rhoda's. Of course, considering my advanced age, I outnumber her doctors. I have a cornucopia of MD's; a dermatologist, a urologist, an internist, a dentist, a pulmonologist, a psychiatrist, an orthopedist, a cardiologist, and a couple whose specialties I'm not too sure of. I split my doctors between private and Veterans' Medical Center. The dental and psychiatric care I get there has saved me thousands of dollars. I use the dental work to preserve what teeth I have left in my mouth, and the shrink for venting my anger. Oh, yes--my anger borders on rage. I cannot here give you a list of what angers me, there is no one around here to whom I can vent--so I make use of my shrink at the V.A. She's a female, and I think I can relate much better to a female than to a male. Don't ask me why, because I don't know the answer to that one. The anger I have doesn't reveal itself at home or in social situations. I have that under control. One of the symptoms of PTSD IS anger, and I've carried PTSD with me since 1945. Anger really helped me to write my memoirs. Although I have several factors relating to my body and my health, one of them is the hearing loss. When I don't use my hearing aids, I can barely hear anything. When I do wear them, Rhoda claims I talk too softly, and I mumble. But to me, it sounds in my head that my voice borders on shouting. So, that leaves me with a kind of Gordian Knot--if I don't wear them, I can't hear; when I do, others can't hear. That angers me. Now my problem with walking, requires that I use a cane so that I don't fall on my derriere. But I'm using it, and I feel like banging someone over the head with it. That, I believe is a manifestation of anger.

I got another call from the Sun-Sentinel asking if I wrote the blog. "liberality" and I gave permission to publish it. I hope they don't edit stuff out of it, because i like it just the way it is. Of course. I cut a lot out of the blog myself because there were too many words for it to be a letter to the editor. Now, I began this blog by writing there was nothing to write about. Tonight I'm taking Rhoda to a Chinese Restaurant, and tomorrow we are going with three other couples to Flakowitz (a deli) for our Thanksgiving Day dinner. Naturally, I would prefer a family gathering to celebrate that holiday, but in these days, that can't happen. And I'm pretty angry about that. If you write a comment to this blog, please don't say anything that will get me mad.

"A little learning is a dangerous thing; drink deep..." (Alexander Pope)

The other night over shrimp in lobster sauce, a friend of mine offered his opinion, without being asked, that humanity in the world now is privileged to be in possession of a lot of knowledge "never before known to man" (which word apparently is the same thing as "humanity"). I politely begged to differ with him; I told him that the fact is we know very little. Humanity should be ready to admit, as Socrates advised, that the only thing they really know is that they know nothing. The proof is that homo erectus (Java man?) knew much more about his world than we know about ours--and he lived thousands or so years ago with a smaller brain; though perhaps not so small as some other acquaintances of mine. Well, perhaps some of my friends know something, but they selfishly have not been forthcoming with their "knowledge." Unlike Socrates, I know a little-- or nothing. I know that 2+2 equals 4, but simple equations like that reach the outer limits of my mathematical acumen. I still have no idea about what makes autos run, planes fly, or motorcycles make such a racket. The chemical periodic table that mystified me in college is still a conundrum to me. I do not know the first thing about making a pipe bomb, nor can I conceive how a Tylenol relieves pain. VCRs, DVDs, I-Pods, Blackbirds, and cell phones are all enigmas to me. Now I would venture to say that most of humanity probably do not know the answers to any of these things either...and some may never have heard of them. Yes--Neanderthal Man knew more about his world than we do about ours! He knew how to make a tool out of stone. (Who does now?) He knew how to get food out of the environment that confronted him. (Only Eagle Scouts can do that) He knew the earth was flat, and he knew how to hunt (I know. Sarah Palin can also.) The old guy didn't have to worry about "issues", or Democrats and Republicans, or terrorists, or where to find a plumber (except in Ohio?). So, homo erectus knew almost everything about his world, while we know only a pittance about ours. No need to pat ourselves on the shoulder.

Now, I know there are those who do not believe in evolution--though they may never have read Darwin's "Origin of Species." And some (though they many nver have read the Bible) would say that God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh. That may be true, but if God is real, then his day could not have been 24 hours. This is not enough time to do the job that he did. I would say that God's "day" is probably about a billion years, so it really took six billion years to create what we perceive today in the universe, and then on the seventh day (which is probably now) after six billion of our years, he took a nap. With the shape the world is in today, He is probably napping at this very moment. God is too nice a guy to allow all this garbage going on: wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, genocide in the Congo, piracy on the high seas, disease everywhere, global warming, illegal immigration, and the Dow way down. When he awakes (after another 100 million years?). Oh, boy! Will he be surprised. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the library to learn somethng.