"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.

Liberality

I keep wondering why people write letters to the editor of their newspapers complaining that they are "ultra-liberal" and unfair to whom or whatever are their own choices. If they don't like the newspaper they're reading, why don't they subscribe to one more to their liking? Personally, I don't mind if the paper I read is "liberal". I find that word much more comforting than "conservative." What's so bad about "liberal"? For example, if your sister or mother or wife or father, etc. is icing a newly baked cake, I prefer saying, "Be a little liberal with the chocolate, if you don't mind." It sounds a lot better for the success of the cake rather than asking the icer to be "conservative" with the chocolate--don't you think? Another example: If you're a teacher and a student hands in a commendable essay, it would not be inappropriate if you are somewhat more liberal with your praise than you are conservative--don't you think? Also, as a parent, perhaps you could be a little more liberal with the keys to the car should your teenage son or daughter is in need of it. It seems to me then, that "liberal" should not be such a pejorative term as some conservatives make it out to be. Even the pledge of allegiance ends with "...one nation, indivisible, with liberal and justice for all"--don't you think?

I'm satisfied that Barack Obama is a liberal president elect who is a graduate of Columbia College, and thus any alumni should be happy and proud of that. I am--although not an alumni of the college, I'm still an alumni of Columbia University. In 1947, most students who went to the College were high school graduates, and WWII veterans, under the GI Bill, went to the School of General Studies--and if they wanted to teach, took their masters at Columbia Teachers' College. The curriculum at the School of General Studies was much more liberal and flexible than that of the College. I had a great education there. My good friend and colleague, Phil Bergovoy graduated from the College--but I don't think he is of the "liberal" persuasion. However, no one is more liberal with his friendship and loyalty than he is to me.

By the way, the dictionary defines "liberal" as "generous, bountiful, not narrow in opinion or judgment." That's good enough for me.

"And nothing comes from nothing..." (The Sound of Music)

One of the funniest shows that I've seen on TV was the "Seinfeld" show with Jerry, George, Kramer, and Elaine; and one of the most laughable, if memory serves me correctly--and I'm somewhat short on that commodity--was one episode in which Jerry and George were proposing to a TV producer that they do a show on "NOTHING". And that is exactly what this blog will be about; but perhaps not so funny. I have heard nothing about my Aunt Belle because information is not forthcoming from my two cousins, Jerry and Ronny. Nevertheless we are making a charitable donation to the City of Hope in her honor, and a Certificate to that effect will be sent to the boys. Yesterday, I went to the VA Medical Center for a dental appointment and underwent a couple of fillings in a couple of teeth that remain in my mouth. Of course, since it was the VA, and I'm a veteran, the cost to me was nothing. I can't imagine how much I have saved on dental bills since I moved to Florida. Not only have I saved on dental bills, but my hearing aids have also cost me nothing. The nurse said that the aids, privately, would cost about $6000. At that price there would be nothing worth hearing.

There has been way too much pressure on me to renew my walking-in-water therapy, and although I believe it will do virtually nothing for me, I have agreed to dive into it once more just so certain people will have nothing more to say. However, this cannot happen until January because we are going on a cruise from Dec. 17 to Dec. 27. When we return we will get a prescription from our doctor to start the therapy in January. So, nothing more can be done this year because the therapy is supposed to be administered three times a week according to Medicare. But I'll only be able to do it twice a week in January owing to the fact that I have decided to reopen my class aptly titled, "Fun With Shakespeare." I'll be teaching "Hamlet" where something is rotten in the state of Denmark. Something like what is going on in this country, although Sen. McCain offered his opinion that nothing was amiss. The fee will be $37.50 which is practically nothing considering the fact that I'm a professional and come cheaper than an MD for an hour and a half.

And so this 85 year old man goes into a bar to meet a friend, and the friend asked where this old guy had been for the past five months. The old guy says, "Well, I was accused of rape, and when I went before the judge, I felt so good and proud about the charge that I pleaded 'guilty'."

"Then what?" asked the friend.

"Well, the judge gave me five months in jail."

"For rape?"

"No. For perjury."

So, he got five months for NOTHING. And Red Baron's readers got NOTHING to read today, no thanks to Jerry Seinfeld.

"Death, a necessary end, will come when it will come." (Julius Caesar)

This morning I awoke to the news that my Aunt Belle passed away last night. This was very disturbing news to me for she was my last aunt to be alive, and my favorite. She leaves two sons, Jerry and Ronnie. Jerry, as a very young man was attacked by polio and has been in a wheel chair ever since. He's over 70 right now and has lived longer than doctors expected. He married a lady many years ago who had one son. My aunt's other son, Ronald lives here in Florida with his third wife. He was divorced from his first, and his second wife died of cancer. Aunt Belle lived in Boca Raton in a condo right on the ocean on the 19th floor. What a beautiful sight from her terrace. My aunt was over 90 years old and she will be missed.

Of course there was a time in my life when I had the good fortune of knowing all my aunts and uncles, and I had many of them. My mother had three brothers and two sisters all of whom married and provided me with additional uncles and aunts, and eventually a cornucopia of cousins of various sexes. My father had one brother and a sister both of whom married and had children. My Uncle Morris, my father's brother, married Celia, a Catholic girl and all their children--I believe there were eight of them--were brought up as Catholics maintaining the name of Rosenberg! I am still in touch with one of them who lives in the Atlantic Highlands in New Jersey--namely Peter Rosenberg--a very fond nephew of my mother. But as life would have it, I did live to see every one of my aunts and uncles die, and my Aunt Belle, who was married to my mother's brother, was the last of them. And so I am left with a myriad of cousins who are scattered over the country and dot the landscapes as a legacy of their parents. I do love them all--even though I have no clue as to where many of are.

Now tonight, we are celebrating at dinner my friend and neighbor's 85th birthday; and so, as fate would have it, I will have to bear this day with sadness and joy. It will be difficult.

"Speak the speech, I pray you, trippingly on the tongue..." (Hamlet)

Yesterday we went to the most dreadful, deplorable, dismal, atrocious, woeful, abominable, execrable, pitiable show I've ever seen, been a witness to, or sat through. It was called "Noises Off," but I would suggest that a number of loud boos to put on some noise from the audience wouldn't have been inappropriate. The actors kept running up and down stairs to an upper level with four doors, ran in and out of the doors there and also opened and closed several doors on the lower level of what supposedly was the inside of a large house. Their lines were delivered with loud English accents and Rho and I couldn't understand a word we heard. It was wise of the playwright to provide two intermissions--one of 15 minutes, the other at 10. This gave ticket holders time to get to the rest rooms to throw up before returning to their seats for additional punishment of observing the actors coming in and out of all the doors and slamming them closed. It was a farce, but a damnable poor one. The Marx brothers would have been a sight better. We have tickets to three more shows in the series at this theatre, and hopefully there will be an improvement. I'm looking forward to "Evita". I expect it won't be done in Spanish. And one more problem; perhaps the man who sits in front of me will be guillotined in the interim so that I can at least see the action.

On Friday night we went to "Karaoke Night" in the clubhouse. For some unknown reason we belong to the Boomers' Club who were sponsoring the evening. After some club business and reports and information about future events, the Karaoke host--a hired professional with professional Karaoke equipment--his aid, a young lady, played dance music and many "Boomers" took advantage of it. Then the host played a few line dances and Rhoda got the chance to do some exercise. Finally, the Karaoke part of the program got under way. There were about 300 people there and every table had a book with all the songs in alphabetical order with little pieces of paper for those who had motives to sing to write down the title of their song. I got to sing my "signature" song, "If I Were a Rich Man". The problem was that several lines in the middle of the song were left out, and as the words on the screen reached that point it skipped the lines and went to the lyrics that come after them, so I was thrown off for a few seconds, but I finished on time. No. There were no prizes, just a string of Mardi Gras beads.

Well, Obama, the right man was finally elected and Thanksgiving is on the horizon. And then in December, the cruise, and Hanukkah, and Christmas, and who knows what else? The Fates are in charge of all this. And for those who are not familiar with these hags--they are three Greek Goddesses of Destiny and Fate. Otherwise known as the Moirae, these timeless old hags weave the threads of destiny that control your life. The original spin doctors. They are: CLOTHO who spins the Thread of Life, LACHESIS who allots the length of the yarn, and ATROPOS who does the snip (the final one). All the good and evil that befalls you is woven into your destiny and cannot be altered even one jot. You may find this a little unfair, but there's not much you can do about it. Even the rest of the Greek Gods cannot escape their destinies.