"How sour sweet music is When time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives." (Richard II)

Tomorrow is the last day of 2007. What kind of year has it been for me? I suppose that one of the best things that happened was the performance of "My Fair Lady" produced by Rhoda and directed by me. As a result of that production we discovered a new lady soprano diva, Madame Marilyn Silverstein who played Eliza to her cockney perfection, and the rotund but remarkable award winning performance of Sir Mike Herbstman as Col. Pickering. Producing this musical was one of the most difficult, but nevertheless rewarding events of 2007. When Rhoda and I agreed to undertake this show, we knew it was going to be a challenge--that's why we did it. But if it were not for her work, expertise, and organising abilities, it would never have gotten off the ground.

The second best occurrence of 2007 was the publication of two books that took me 13 months to write--my memoirs and a book of poetry--each in an edition in color and black and white. Everyone should at least try to write a book because the feeling one has when the book is finally printed and in your hands is indescribable. The question that first comes to mind when this happens is, "How did I do this?" But now that is behind me and I have to find new challenges besides the depression, a war, college, 10 musicals, a career, two marriages, two marathons, two books, 110 blogs, and Mike--just to name a few.

The third event that stands out in 2007 was the 10 day December cruise that we took to the Caribbean. Even though we did not come back winners of slot money, we did have a very good time, especially every night at dinner with some delightful friends. We did find that this ship, the Emerald Princess was much too big for us. The problem with my legs has gotten worse and I had a very bad time walking from one venue on the ship to another. This disability will have to be dealt with in some way in 2008. And it will be.

Next year Rhoda will be celebrating her 70th Birthday on Feb. 2nd, and we will be celebrating our 25th Anniversary. How the years do fly by. In July, therefore, we have scheduled a cruise in Scandinavia. By then we hope to find a solution to my physical problems. This 25th will be my second one and the two women who made the mistake of marrying me were each to me a blessing. It's like Socrates said in "The Symposium"--love is finding the other half that was once a part of you before the Gods divided each sex in half and scattered them over the earth for punishment of their sins. In my case, I suppose, each wife made up 1/4 of that which was once a part of me, and I'm fortunate to have found the other 1/4 in RH+

HAPPY NEW YEAR ALL...I DON'T THINK I'LL BLOG IT FOR A COUPLE OF DAYS.

"If thou can wake by four o'the clock I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly." (Cymbeline)

This morning (?) I slept until about 12:15 PM. I only got out of bed because of shame. Last night we went out to dinner with Mike (Col. Pickering) and Helen (Queen of Transylvania). He wanted steak so we went to Longhorns, one of our favorite hangouts. Helen is a very bright and educated lady who is quite active in the City of Hope. Mike is a thespian who has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary. We were having very animated conversations when the manager began moving tables and chairs right behind us...many tables and chairs stuck together until there were 20 places. This event sent shivers up my spine, because I was wearing my hearing aids and expected the noise of 20 people to sound like 20,000. However, when this group came in and sat down, it became a guessing game for us as to who they were and what were they doing there. Before they came, we figured it was a kid's birthday party and made plans to move out of there. But there were no kids, so we figured maybe it was a wedding party, but they were all dressed out in jeans and t-shirts for the most part, and wonder of wonders they were quite peaceful and quiet. Then our waitress revealed the mystery: they were all former addicts out of rehap, and met there for dinner once a month. Go know.

We did see a number of kids that night; some were teenagers carrying wires hanging out of their ears and IPods in their hands. Kids today all have IPods, cell phones hooked onto their belts, laptops in Florida, and computers with little cameras in their bedrooms so they can see their friends while IM-ing. Some even carry credit cards. Amazing. When I was a boy, in order to communicate with our friends we attached a string to two cans and stood about 6 feet apart to talk. Why didn't it occur to us that we didn't really need the cans? Credit cards were still in the fetus stage; instead of computers or ball-point pens we had inkwells and blue fingers. For music, we had a victrola to play 78s. I even had a chrystal radio which picked up two stations while I was under the covers. How did I ever grow up?

Every month Huntington Lakes puts out a newsletter with articles about all our clubs; the January issue has this blurb in the "Library News

" section:

Norman Ross will present a program Friday, January 11, 2008, at 10:30 AM in the Terrace Room. He states the title of his program as "The Power and Passion of Poetry and a Pot Pourri of Me." Through readings and discussion of excerpts from some of the classic works of poetry as well as a selection of poems from his newly published books, ADDENDA and SHADOWS in the SUNSET. Dr. Norman Ross will attempt to show how to "reinvent" yourself through the magic, the mystery, and the dynamics of great poetry--and to convince you that poetry is a part of your life.

I don't know how many of you out there have an interest in poetry, but I do best with a very large audience. I will attempt to do all that's promised in 7 minutes. l k k k k k.

"Crabbed age and youth cannot live together; youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care." (Shakespeare)

Today I got a call from the VA Dental Clinic asking if I could come in at 3:45 instead of next week. I welcomed the opportunity because on the day I was supposed to come next week I had appointments with two other doctors. All I had was a cleaning and the hygienist was very skillful since she has been doing this for 25 years. After she was finished and I checked out my teeth in a mirror I told her I was never going to eat again so my teeth would look the same and I wouldn't have to worry anymore about a clavitron. When she said that bacteria would get in my teeth anyway, I decided that I would go ahead and eat after all--and I did. Rhoda went to the fishmarket and bought me a pound of Florida stone crabs--a shellfish treat. (The history of stone crabs and me can be found in "Life #2 in my book.) I love going to the VA for dental and medical work because I never ever had to wait more than 15 or 20 minutes to see a doctor. Besides that, the VA possesses all the latest high-tech equipment.

In Florida it seems that the most important and overriding topics to talk about are doctors, medications, restaurants, and food. These come before discussions about grandchildren and their parents. From the things I've heard about grandchildren by the pool, in restaurants, in the clubhouse, and other venues, I doubt that my generation will keep the title of "Greatest". In 25 years since I'm here, I have never heard of an unsuccessful grandchild who is either in day care, middle school, high school, college, rehab, or the work force. h h h f

Since my books were published, I've been trying to find something fun and rewarding to do and it isn't easy. I'm gratified and humbled by the fact that about 27 books have been purchased not counting the ones I bought myself. I only know about 4 or 5 people who bought one, the others are anonymous. Maybe I'll find a royalty check in the mail one of these days. Meanwhile, since I'm not able to play golf anymore, or take 3 mile walks or loll around a mall, I've been relegated to computer games. One of them is called "Jewel Quest", and I would advise you not to download or buy it because it is addictive. It's really a kind of solitaire game where you have to match cards and clear them from the table. If you're successful in getting rid of all the cards, then another game pops up with little thumbnails of various kinds of gems, and if you match them you accumulate points. I wound up with 1,437,000--but Rhoda beat me.

Now I really have to find something better to do than play games on the computer. Any ideas?--and don't tell me to "volunteer" somewhere. I'm not the volunteering sort. I need to be paid--either in cash or in some other rewarding way. I'll be looking forward to hearing from you.

"There's a divinity that shapes our ends..." (Hamlet)

I got up Christmas morning and ran into the living room to see what Santa had brought for me. When I got there, I found nothing and so I swept through the rest of the house frantically searching for the place where he dropped his load. Disappointedly and thoroughly dejected and pissed off, I went into the kitchen where I saw the two Mallomars that I left for him still on the paper plate. Fortunately for me, I decided he wasn't going to stop on his way back to the North Pole, and so I ate the cookies myself. I even left him some low fat milk, considering his girth and all the cookies that were going to be left for him. I wrote him a Zen note for NEXT Christmas and used two stamps considering the distance it had to go:

Be here now.

Be someplace else later.

Is that so complicated?

Right now, Rhoda is in the kitchen making brisket and kashe varniskes. Personally, I believe she thinks this is Passover after she sees all the children and grandchildren contaminating the environment here. If she puts a glass of Manishevitz wine on the table for dinner, I may have to call Social Services for her. Speaking of Social Services, visitors here this week have commented on the number of elderlies hanging on to their walkers for dear life. I tell them that this is the "walker capital" of the world. And with all these beings rolling around with their walkers, their canes, and their scooters, it looks like the Land of Oz around here. I really should not be critical; I may soon join them. When that happens, the journey of a thousand miles will begin with a single "Oy."

"Felice Navidad"...Gung Hoy Fa Choy

The following is a comment I received as appended to the Birthday blog.

My subscription to your blog will soon expire. If you continue to skip days without any news, I will be forced to terminate my subscription and ask for money back.

This is the thanks I get for writing 110 or so blogs for my readers' edification, entertainment, and education? ? A crank who probably has delusions of adequecy wants his money back? And this is the season to be jolly? This artichoke, this onion, this infected radish, this spongy melon should put on an ill-fitting Santa suit, get on his reindeer sled and fly back north with the other snowflakes and have his nose turn into a carrot and his eyes into two black coals!

I'm truly sorry that some of you have been spoiled rotten into expecting a blog-a-day. At times I need a rest in order to think of more words that I've forgotten. I do, on occasion, have a memory loss.

Last night we went out with Marylyn and Dick to the Chinese Garden. When we got there, it was more like a forest than a garden what with parties of 8, 10, 12, etc. with obvious great grandchildren, plain grandchildren, parents, grandparents and great grandparents milling around outside--overrunning the parking lot waiting for their number to be called to get a table. We finally did. I thought we would get a good deal for dinner because I had a coupon calling for 10% off , good Monday-Thursday with exception of weekends or holidays. When we sat and looked at the "special" menu we found that the prices for all dinners were doubled and nothing available for less than $16.99. The 1 1/4 lb. lobster that previously was $11.99 was now $22.99. Ah! but my coupon said "10% off". Rhoda said they wouldn't take it because it was a holiday; I said it was Dec. 24 and not a holiday. Dec. 25 was the holiday. I was fully confident that I was in the right. But when I showed the coupon to the waiter he laughed in my face with gales of laughter and all the other tables roared with glee at my chutzpah. I reminded the waiter that Dec. 24 was not a holiday, but he claimed it was a Chinese holiday and therefore the coupon was not viable. So much for the season being "jolly".

After dinner and grudgingly paying the check, we four came back to our place about 9pm and chatted animatedly until about 12:30 am. Of course we had pictures around the house including a few of Rich Higgins, and they were curious to know some of the details about him. I did have a video of CNN news in 1991 when the hostages were brought home including Richard's body along with Bill Buckley's at Andrews Air Force Base in Md. Marilyn and Dick were fascinated by the video and so Christmas Eve wore on. I gave Dick a copy of Robin's book which he said he would love to read. As I write this, it is now Christmas Day, 2007, and I slept till almost 1pm having worked on a crossword puzzle until about 2am. Rhoda is making a brisket. I had brunch consisting of a baked apple, 2 mallomars, and coffee. Such is life.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ROBIN

Hi--Although my PC is still disabled, today is my daughter Robin's birthday, and so I'm determined to write this blog celebrating her achievements even tho' typing is a frustrating attempt. I cannot reveal her age, but suffice it to say, she can join AARP. She is an amazing daughter and one of my best poems. Her work career has exceeded all my expectations. She retired from the USMC as a Lt. Colonel. She was an Ass"t. Secretary of Labor in Daddy Bush's administration. She was appointed by Jeb Bush after her retirement as the Executive Director of the Florida Dep't. of Veterans' affairs. She was instrumental in getting a national cemetery approved for So. Florida. On her watch a Veteran's nursing home was built and opened in Ft. Lauderdale with her name on the plaque. She also has her name on a building in Oneonta Unversity--Robin Ross Higgins Hall--her Alma mater where she was awarded an honorary doctorate. Her husband, Col. Rich Higgins has his name on a guided missile destroyer, the USS HIGGINS. During the present Bush Administration, she was appointed as an Ass't. Secretary of the Dep't of Veterans' Affairs in charge of all the National Cemeteries in the United States. She normally lives now in Tallahassee, but she does have a house and a ranch in Montana where is currently celebrating her birthday and the the holidays with her friends, her neighbors, my granddaughter, Katrina, and Sophie, Robin's dog. What more can I say but HAPPY BIRTHDAY HONEY!

Intermission.....

1. Well do I still have the trojan Vundo? Yes and no. JR sent me a new link to an Adware site selling software for $19.95 so I opted to buy it because I'm becoming desparate. The postcard thingy alerting me to a "trojan" disappeared after I exited a quicktime icon on my taskbar which is a mystery to me because I never had a quicktime icon there before so I don't know why the alert disappeared after the quicktime icon was deleted from the taskbar. Although I can still access the internet, everything has slowed down and it is very difficult to type anything. You can type 3 words won the keys but the words don"t show up right away. Right now we have to go to Rho's sister and see Samantha, the new baby whose parents are Brian and Janine....Brian being Howard's son, and Howard for those who need to know is Geri's husband and our brother-in-law. I'll be back.

"What? Gone without a word?" (Two Gentlemen from Verona)

Well yesterday my computer was attacked by a vicious virus called a "trojan".. Don't ask me why. I tried every thing I knew, which isn't much, to get rid of it, but nothing worked. I can barely type this. It's very slow. Then today Joel sent me a tool to remove it--and after the thing ran for an hour, it stopped and a pop-up said "Vundo removed". Vundo is the name of the virus. But it's still infecting my computer. I ran Joel's link again while we went out to dinner & when we got back the popup said "Vundo" removed once again, but the damn thing is still here. Tomorrow I'll call a PC techie, and try to get this thing out of here. Meanwhile I can only write shot blogs until then. I will not be intimidated by this mystery. See you manana.

"There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient..." (Winter's Tale)

I have a big postcard size "alert" on my monitor which says "Trojan Detected" but when I follow the directions to remove the "trojan" it doesn't get removed and the big alert remains on my screen and I can't get rid of it. I am ahaving an awful timejust typingt these lines as you can tellll. I willl have to get this fixed before i can write any more blogs. sorry.

"Hence! Home, you idle creatures, get you home!" (Julius Caesar)

We sailed the ocean blue, and our saucy ship was a beauty. (Courtesy G&S).. This ship, the Emerald Princess was three football fields long, and consequently caused me many, many painful walks from the bow to the stern, and from the stern to the bow. Could have used one of those scooter thingies...as I saw several of them scooting around the decks. We left Ft. Lauderdale on Dec. 6 and after two days at sea, we docked at Aruba. I didn't go ashore, but Rhoda did. Then on to Bonaire, Grenada, Dominica, St. Thomas and a private island. We got off the ship in Bonaire whose claim to fame is thousands of Flamingos and the production of salt. We were on a bus tour around the island which was lush with a rain forest and very mountainous...but we did see wild Flamingos in the various lakes. When they are first born, they are white, and later when they are barmitzvahed they are grey. And when they leave home, they are pink. As far as salt is concerned I saw something I've never seen before...pink lakes...and I do mean pink. Apparently, the color is caused by the quantity of salt. They were beautiful. All lakes should be pink from now on. So between the Flamingos and the salt lakes, Bonaire is what I call the "Pink Place".

In Grenada, another island paradise...except for the bumpy roads and driving on the wrong side...we took another bus ride--this time for 3 1/2 hours and all we saw were different kinds of flora and fauna. I couldn't wait to get off the bus and back to the ship. And the first bus we got on had to go back to the terminal for a different bus because the A/C konked out. So, the tour started an hour late. When we got back to the ship, it was dark and time for dinner. The company was very pleasurable because we sat at a table with four other couples from Huntington Lakes who were good friends of ours. The food was very European and I could barely find a dish I liked, so for 3 nites in a row I had fettuccine Alfredo. And as Robin would say--Oy Vey.

Our next port was Dominica, and since from the ship to the town was a very long walk on a bumpy wooden pier, I opted not to go. But RH wanted to walk to town. She never got there because she tripped over one of the wooden pier planks and split her chin wide open and colored the pier crimson with her gushing blood. Fortunately, people were very helpful. One lady had a towel and covered Rho's chin with it while someone summoned the medics from the ship. A South African doctor then had to put four stitches in her chin. Yesterday she went to our own doctor who took out the stitches and discovered that her wound was infected so he put her on anti-biotics.

All in all, we did have a very good time. The shows each nite were very professional and entertaining. The Pina Coladas were excellent. The ship's crew was extremely helpful and friendly. The Casino was very relaxing, fun, and costly. There were very few activities that were geared toward seniors and the ship was much too big for me to get from one place to another, and from one deck to another without pain. So--smaller ships from now on.

"Fair Seas and a Following Wind" (USN Motto)

When I got home from our cruise this afternoon, we got a telephone call from my granddaughter, Katrina, who now is living in California. Katrina recently graduated from the Motorcycle Mechanics Institute in Phoenix. Her father, Bobby, who also happens to be my son is a sales agent for Harley-Davidson in Virginia. Well, you could have blowed me down when she said she had joined the United States Navy! She said she was going to Boot Camp at the Naval Station in Great Lakes, Il. where I did my training in 1942. I just knew that one of the grandkids was going to carry on the military tradition that seems to be the lot of this family--but I never suspected that it would be PK--Princess K, that is. When asked what she would like to do in the Navy, she said she wanted to work on jet engines. Why not? To tell the truth, I was absolutely flabbergasted at this turn of events, but nevertheless delighted that this grandchild made an important decision about the direction she wishes to take in her life.

Now I was supposed to write about our cruise in the Caribbean, but when I got this news, I decided our reaction to it had to come first. Tomorrow will be time enough for news about that event in which Rhoda fell on the pier in Dominica and gushed blood from her chin. Medics got her back on the ship and she had four stitches to sew up the wound. She's a strong lady. In order to disembark from this huge ship, she coerced me into a wheelchair kicking and screaming. More about that later.

"Fortune is merry, and in this mood will give us anything." (Julius Caesar)

Just got back from Applebees where I feasted on fried shrimp and french fried potatoes. I'm not fond of that restaurant, but Rhoda enjoys it. She had tilapia. Right now I'm taking a break from packing --a chore of which I am also not fond. How many socks? How many shorts? How many shirts, pants, jackets, underwear, shoes? And guesses are hazardous. But if I have my crossword puzzle book and Will Durant's "Story of Philosophy" I may never have to leave the stateroom. Room service is available 7/24 (or is it 24/7?). Oh, did I forget to say that we are leaving tomorrow morning for our cruise. You can read more about it in yesterday's blog, if I remember correctly. We'll be back on Dec. 16 so don't expect any more blogs from me until then. And at that time, I hope I have good news about our gambling fortune. But fortune is fickle.

Till then good friends, have a Happy Hanukkah. Don't forget to light the menorah.

"I love long life better than figs." (Antony & Cleopatra)

In my blog yesterday, I described the suggestion a reader gave me to buy a scooter as a "nudge". Then I realized that the word might be wrongly interpreted as a "noodge", the Yiddish word for a "nag". I meant nudge to be taken as a gentle urging which is what the reader meant, I'm sure. So, if he took it as a nag, I apologize. But it really doesn't take much work to go from nudgeing to noodgeing. Yiddish sometimes gets in the way of what you are really trying to say in English. Be careful out there. Another suggestion I received was that I should get a "Segway" and be the first at Huntington Lakes to have one. The Segway is one of those vehicles where the driver stands up on it and scoots along. Usually you see one of the security guards zinging along on it in the mall. The only problem I have with the Segway is that you can't sit down on it. Whatever. I do appreciate the concern and suggestions I am getting from loving sources. But meanwhile I'm in denial and under the delusion that my mobility will one day miraculously return. Then I shall return to the living.

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It won't be long now before Rhoda and I are off on our cruise to the Southern Caribbean with stops at Aruba, Bonaire, Grenada, Dominica, and St. Thomas. We are leaving on Dec. 6 and returning on Dec. 16. so there won't be any more blogs after this one until we get home. I like to cruise, but I keep thinking about the Titanic, and that we might also hit an iceberg what with global warming and all. One never knows, does one? At any rate, during the war, several wars ago, I had a parachute available in the plane, but never wore it; now on the ship, there will be a life jacket close by, but I'll look foolish wearing it to the dining room, so I won't wear that either. One problem with cruising on a ship that has gambling is how much cash to take with you. I always hazard a guess and find that I usually get lucky and take enough. I'm not a big drinker normally, but aboard ship I drown myself in Pina Coladas--knowing of course that I cannot be arrested for DUI.

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Now, good friends, I have to get back to playing my online game, Jewel Quest, which is driving both of us crazy because we are on Level 5-1 and cannot get out of it. It's a form of solitaire, and we've played this one about 100 times without finishing. I can't wait until Thursday when I won't be tempted to play it any more. Have a Happy Hanukkah.

"Though I look old, I am strong and lusty." (As You Like It)

The other day I received an email from one of my kids with a link to a web site that sells "scooters". Not the kind used by kids, but the kind used by handicapped people...mostly seniors who are not able to walk. Now, I am able to walk--but not very far--without pains in my hips. It's a vascular problem. Now this email, I take it, was a nudge to me to go out and buy one of these ubiquitous machines. Nowadays they are all over the place. Only the elite and chosen elders scoot around in them. The more sedate and lower echelon elderly simply crawl around leaning on their "walkers". And the lesser than the latter cane themselves around town accompanied by their Haitian "nannies". As for me and the "nudge", I just don't feel that I am mentally ready to join the prosthetic brigade, although I realize that physically I belong. When we leave on our cruise in the next few days, the bus leaves us a good distance from the ship, and I would find it to be a slow and excruciating walk. Thus, my spouse has surreptitiously arranged for a wheelchair voyage from bus to ship. I suppose that's a kind of "break-in" training trip as a precursor to the scooter phase of my life. I may have to write a sequel to my Memoirs book to include that chapter.

Cruising is something I never did until we moved down to Florida. It's hard to believe that I've been here retired for twenty-five years. I have thoroughly enjoyed these years, cruising, playing golf, performing in shows, eating out---eating out? We eat out a lot more than we eat in. When I came here I was a strapping youth of 58 looking a lot like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and weighing 162 lbs. of muscle. Now, because of the eating out part of retirement, I have gained a little over a pound a year and I'm now a flabby decrepit elder looking like Father Time. And why do we eat out so much you might ask? Well Rhoda is retired also and naturally doesn't care to cook as much as she once did--even though she is very good at it. I certainly don't blame her for cutting down, and if she doesn't feel like cooking--we go out. This way I will probably gain another pound-a-year so that in 2032 I'll weigh about 225 lbs.

On this cruise, then, I'll be off to a good start to that end, because besides gambling, the other thing you do on a cruise is eat. How can you refuse a juicy roll and butter and chocolate cake for dessert? And if you can't have chocolate cake when you're 83, when will you have it?

"With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder..." (Richard II)

Went to Costco today for food and etc. and that is always and adventure. I've heard several people claim that they just go there for the hot dogs, claiming that they are the best. I don't agree with them but that doesn't make them bad people. I don't like big fat long hot dogs with a big fat long roll; my favorite hot dog is still Nathan's and always will be. I like them even better than Hebrew National or Ball Park dogs. In my teen days, we didn't get to Nathan's in Coney Island very often, so we counted on the corner deli. I used to eat six hot dogs with mustard and potato salad on them every Saturday night. With a Mission Orange, the whole deal came to 35 cents.

The whole experience in Costco reminds me of an overpopulated ant hill. People are pushing their loaded wagons around like ants schlepping crumbs. The entrance to the store and the exit are very close together, and customers are pouring in by the numbers and coming out the same way--like ants in and out of their hill. Of course the only difference is that ants do not have to use American Express to check out. This day we met several other ants--people from Huntington Lakes. It seems that every time we go there, we meet some ant--person we know. It's a small world, but a big Costco.

Tonite we are going to China Gardens with Sally and Irv Forman, Marilyn Silverstein (Eliza) and Dick, and Bev and Billy Berger from our building. Sally and Irv we know from East Meadow where our children grew up...that was about 50 years ago. Fast friends are good friends. Sally and Marilyn even bought my book. I'll sign them tonite.

"Time shall unfold what...cunning hides." (King Lear)

In a week or so, we'll be off to the Caribbean on the Princess something or other. The only ship whose name I can remember is the USS HIGGINS. Both RH+ are looking forward to this chance to get away from home and spend time on the high seas, if you can call the Caribbean that. I'll probably spend most of my time in the casino playing the slots or in the dining room eating and drinking Pina Coladas. We will not spend all ten days on the ship, however, since we have made reservations for some sightseeing at the stopover ports--some of which I've been to several times. It also helps to speak a little Spanish. Our next cruise will be next July when Rho and I will celebrate her 70th and our 25th Anniversary cruising the Scandinavian countries and Russia. Robin's travel agent is the one we are using to set up that cruise. Of course we'll have to fly to Amsterdam first. It'll probably cost more than what I spent in an entire year traveling around the world in 1976 celebrating the 200th Anniversary of America.

Speaking of America, only one year is left before we vote for a President. I spent the night thinking about which candidates looked and acted "presidential". I thought back to some of the presidents we've had--and I've seen a dozen of them. I only have read about George Washington, but he surely looked presidential. So did Lincoln, FDR, & JFK. I can't think of any others. Now, what about the current candidates in both parties? Is there a "Presidential Presence" in those groups? Hillary is in a class by herself; maybe not so much presidential, but rather more prime-ministerish. Obama? Secretary-of-Stateish. Edwards? Perhaps Vice-P. McCain? Sec. of Defense. Thompson? Law and Order. It's going to be a very interesting and historic year. Sit back and aggravate.

"To you your father should be as a God." (Midsummer Night's Dream)

JOEL'S COMMENT ON YESTERDAY'S BLOG:

JOEL:

I believe that your self-analysis of your interaction in a group greatly differs from the impression some others have of you. Speaking for myself (although quite a few others have agreed with me when the topic has arisen), I feel that rather than listening carefully and silently to the conversation around you, you generally "take over" the discussion, and often move it to focus on your own experience -- you thus become the center of attention. Perhaps this only happens when you are around family or close friends. I don't say this as a criticism in any way, just an observation that differs from your own observation. That said, I do agree that you are not garrulous at all.

RED BARON:

Well, he's probably right. But in my own defense, it would be difficult to "take over" a conversation if I were not "listening carefully". And I don't think I meant to imply that I couldn't avidly participate in a social gathering in a home or restaurant or wherever with family and long time friends with whom I feel perfectly comfortable. What I wrote was that I've always had difficulty making friends in the first place--and that cannot be denied because that has been my experience. And if I do tend to take over any conversation it would be because of my interest--without meaning to take it over. If that happens, then why doesn't someone else in the group--whoever they are--interrupt me and tell me to bug off? Huh? I asked Rhoda to read JRs comment and she said she agrees with him. Is there anyone out there who will come to my rescue?

Aha..."Anonymous" and "Robert" have commented on the comment:

Anonymous:

I will step up to the plate, if you will pick up the next check on our dinners out. Our eclectic conversations are well balanced with cogent remarks from each. I find it quite ludicrous to have read this accusation, since, in my opinion, I find you too shy to bear that guilt.

Robert:

I haven't seen or spoken with you in person for almost 50 years. If that doesn't qualify me as an expert I can't imagine what would. Expressing one's innermost feelings is just that. That is how you feel and what others perceive is another issue entirely. The sensitivity to one's own vulnerability and risk of being ignored or rendered insignificant is monstrous. I know, I walk around with it every day. And if I ever told that to my family, friends or students they would laugh. But I think I understand and a blog, if nothing else, is free expression of how one feels and that's the way Doc feels.

RED BARON:

I appreciate readers who take the time to respond to my daily musings. I do know who "Anonymous" is and the only Robert I know is one of my favorite all-time students and a super-athlete and a better person doesn't exist. I do not know any other Robert who would call me "Doc". Thanks Flash.

Incidentally, I "publish" every comment that comes in, no matter what is written, so I look for the comment after each blog and if it's not there, I just put it there. (And, Flash, please send me your current address so I can send you a copy of my book. ) TTYL

"He doth indeed show some sparks that are like wit." (Much Ado)

I've been thinking about it lately (and thinking is a good thing for the elderly) and I've decided that I am definitely not a garrulous person. In a social setting, I'm not very good company because I rarely get into the conversations, and when I do, people usually look askance at me, and then go on with whatever and whomever they were talking to...and about. Personally, I prefer listening to talking. I'm a very good listener, but a lousy talker...and probably one of the reasons I always found it difficult to make a friend. I much prefer to write, and writing is a solitary act. No friend can do it for you. I actually like being alone. To work in silence and with all one's heart, that is the writer's lot; he is the only artist who must be solitary, and yet needs the widest outlook on the world. At times, while I was writing my "Memoirs", Rho came marching in and started talking to me while I was "en medias res"--in the middle of things. Once, she spoke to me at the very moment I was about to write the great American sentence; a sentence so beautiful and full of passion and wisdom that the literary world would cheer, and the Nobel Prize people would have something to think about. When she left, I completely lost the thought and the chance for fame.

While most writers do their work in privacy, they nevertheless must move in the world, physically and mentally, reading the classics and their peers, accumulating experiences and insights, formulating a philosophy of life and death. They--at least the great ones--must articulate the universal truths of the heart. But even geniuses need social intercourse to fertilize their minds and connect with their audience. That is why God invented Starbucks, sidewalk cafes, saloons, faculty lounges, and early bird dinners. The danger of sociability, though, is that it can become an escape from that scary time when it will be just you and your writing instrument. So, whenever I find myself in a social milieu, I prefer to listen to other people, and when I speak it is usually to ask a question.

I therefore believe that my joy of performing on the stage where the words belong to someone else is an escape from my reticence to join a conversation. And my success as a teacher is another . So, if I don't speak to you, it's not because I don't like you. I'm just not a social animal; if I lived in the 15th Century, I would probably be a monk or a hermit.

"This is a way to kill a wife with kindness..." (Taming of the Shrew)

I think most people have a favorite day of the week. I think mine is Sunday. The Sun-Sentinel has separate sports pages for the Saturday college football games and another for the other sports like college basketball and the NBA and golf, etc. Besides that, they have the NY Times and the Washington Post crossword puzzles which gives me a week's worth of a brain worthy thing to do. Then on Sunday, of course, we have the NFL football games, although it has not been much fun to watch the 0-10 Miami Dolphins or the Miami Heat. If interest wanes toward the football games, there is also one or two games to be played on the computer. But let me warn you about one of them. It's called "Jewel Quest" and by all means available to you, avoid signing up for it like you would avoid the plague or a hurricane--that is, get out of town. The reason for this anathema is that it is more addictive than any drug; it might as well be called "Cocaine Quest". Rhoda was on to it until about 1 a.m last night. And added to her addiction is her competive nature...she is all out to beat me by getting higher scores. Let me illustrate: the first time around on this game requires getting through 8 levels of difficulty. She wound up with 1,217,560 points, and I managed to garner 1,138,117. Now we are on the second time around on the second game with 8 levels, and between meals and City of Hope meetings, RH+ is "questing for jewels". I'm happy for her--she now has a new purpose in life, besides finding things for me to do.

At the moment it is approaching 5pm and we are soon to be picked up by Mike and Helen Herbstman and chauffered off to dinner. It seems we are always being chauffered off to dinner somewhere by newly made friends--as compared to friends made 50 years ago. I don't mind taking Rhoda out to dinner. When she doesn't have to cook, she's in a better mood when we get home. FELICE DOMINGO.

"If ladies be but young and fair, they have the gift to know it..." (AYLI)

I slept until noon today, and may have continued if not for the fact that RH woke me when she put her head by mine to see if I were still breathing. As luck would have it, I certainly was. So, I reluctantly left the comfort of my bed and my hugging pillow. When Rho left for lunch with her cousin, I took out a frozen bagel and defrosted it in the microwave, toasted it and spread it with some leftover vegetable cream cheese that I had for breakfast/brunch in the deli yesterday. In fact, dinner was also served with leftover turkey and ham from Maggiano's last night. I was grateful that dinner did not cost another 100 dollars.

As a matter of philosophy, life includes a lot of leftovers. For example, my goal of climbing Mt. Everest is a "leftover"; so is my plan to swim the English Channel and break Gertrude Eberle's record. Another leftover is my dream of playing Hamlet in the film of the same name. I'm afraid the next leftover will be the fact that I will probably never win the Florida Lottery. I don't even have much luck with scratchoffs. One of my biggest leftovers will be not to have parachuted out of an airplane nor learning how to fly. A leftover which can never happen now is to have sex with three women...I could not afford to take them out to dinner. Perhaps it would have been easy just to venture a goodnight kiss as they returned from the pub to sick bay where they worked.

It won't be very long now before we go on our 10 day cruise to the Caribbean. The lousy part now is that I have to get into my closet and decide which clothes I'm going to need. Packing is not much fun. We have a couple of excursion when the ship docks at some of the ports. We tried to pick them out so I wouldn't have to do a lot walking. I still can't walk more than a 100 yards or so without suffering a lot of pain. So, I just hobble along. Anybody want to buy some golf balls? Cheap? Clubs? Tees? Gloves? Golf bags? You pay for shipping. CIAO.

"The truest poetry is the most feigning..." (AYLI)

When Rho and I went to the movie at the clubhouse the other night, several people who were formerly in my "Fun With Shakespeare" class asked if I were going to do another in January. Actually, I haven't decided one way or the other. It does take a lot of energy to teach Shakespeare and keep the class from falling asleep. At any rate, (it seems I use that expression a lot), they are my "fans" . I get many more women than men to register for the class; it seems perhaps that many women never had a chance to go to college, and thus missed opportunities for learning that they just now have discovered, and I really hate to disappoint them. However, even if I don't teach a class, residents will have an opportunity on January 11 to attend my presentation in the clubhouse library--a program which I was invited to do by our resident chief librarian. The title of the program is "THE POWER & PASSION OF POETRY & A POTPOURRI of ME". There's purposely a lot of "pee-ing" there, if you've been paying attention. And probably the following blurb will appear in the next issue of our Hunting Lakes newsletter--

"Through reading and discussion of excerpts from some of the classic works of poetry as well as a selection of poems from his newly published books, ADDENDA and SHADOWS in the SUNSET, Dr. Norman Ross will attempt to show how to "reinvent" yourself through the magic, the mystery, and the dynamic of great poetry--and to convince you that poetry is all around you and plays a part in your life."

Last night we went to Thanksgiving dinner at Maggiano's which is an upscale Italian restaurant. I've had a wonderful evening, but that wasn't it. The food came at us in waves; two kinds of salad, bruschetta, turkey with traditional side dishes, stuffing, creamed corn, smashed sweet potatoes, ziti with sausage, rigatoni with chicken marsala, and I'm sure I left something out. There was enough food to feed a herd of buffalo. Then came dessert with profiteroles filled with vanilla ice cream and some kind of apple pastry. The food was very good but the bill for the two of us came to $100 and I figure I only ate about $5 worth.

Home of the Red Baron: "ANNUIT COEPTIS" ($ Bill)

Home of the Red Baron: "ANNUIT COEPTIS" ($ Bill)

"ANNUIT COEPTIS" ($ Bill)

Today is Thanksgiving and true to the spirit of the holiday, it behooves us to count our blessings and all we have to be thankful for. And so, I'll try to ex posit all my favorite things: I am thankful for the parents I once had and wish I still did; I am thankful for having lived into my 80's because there is much still to learn and to do. I am thankful for having survived WWII and for my crew members who are no longer with us; I am thankful for the post war support I received in the VA Hospital that led eventually to my college education. I am grateful for having spent 30 years in the classroom teaching the people and the subjects that delighted me; I am thankful for having soccer and track teams that gave me much joy, not so much for the winning, but for the relationships established with young men and women, and how they taught me lifelong lessons. I am grateful for the opportunity I had to travel for a year around the world; I am happy to have successfully completed two marathon runs--an obsessive goal; I am grateful for having loved two women, each of whom has graced my home for over 25 years; and I am most thankful for having four children who have pleased me in every possible way. I am thankful for all the friendships I have found in retirement, and I am thankful for the opportunities to perform in theatrical productions where I could act and sing, because I am a true "ham" whose milieu--besides the classroom--is the stage. And finally, I am thankful that I had the mindset and energy and will to write and publish two books. And after a traditional turkey dinner at Maggiano's tonite, I will have been fully Thanksgiving surfeited! And not least, I am thankful for the luck I had in finding RH+ for my wife, lo these past 25 years....LOVE TO ALL--AND THANKS FOR BEING YOU.

"This world is not for aye, nor 'tis not strange that even our loves should with our fortunes change." (Hamlet)

If you've been around here lately, you will notice a different look on my blog. I think it has a little more class than the original format...easy on the eyes. Hope you like it. Sometimes in life you've got to change some things when you get bored or tired of them. I'm thinking of things like your job, or your kitchen cabinets, or your golf clubs, or your wives. I've had two of the latter, but I've never gotten tired of either one. Perhaps one of them got tired of me...Can't blame her for that. Sometimes I get tired of me also, and I have to make a change; like letting my hair grow long, or growing a beard, or anything else I can think of that would make a change in me. There are many times in life when a person has to reinvent himself...or herself.

Last night we went to see "La Vie en Rose" the story of the life of Edith Piaf. I do remember her from my previous life (which has had several "changes"), and I enjoyed her songs. However, in the film I learned that she was an alcoholic, a drug addict, an adulteress, a prima donna, a manipulator, and a generally unlikeable person. The film was in French with English subtitles. I might have enjoyed the movie more had there been subtitles for the songs that she sang. Therefore I was disappointed in the film. One thing I couldn't remember is that she had an affair with Marcel Cerdan, who won the heavyweight championship with a K.O. of Tony Zale. He was her one love and was killed in a plane crash coming from France to America after Edith had begged him to. She carried guilt for that and despair at his death for the remainder of her life. Hasta la vista!

"A merrier hour was never wasted there..." (Midsummer Night's Dream)

Arose at 11am this morning. I had about a dozen dreams last nite similar to others that I've been having--but not in such profusion. All my dreams are very brief and in full cinematic technicolor. (Unfortunately not in 3D). Each of them involves someone offering me something to grab hold of--like a spoonful of ice cream, or an envelope, or a book, or a pen, or a golf club, or a bottle of soda--anything that I can hold in my hand. But when I reach for the damn thing--whatever it is--the dream bursts open like a balloon; I wake up with my hands in the air and there's nothing to hold on to! My VA doctor assures me that the medication I'm taking is conducive to produce vivid dreams. And so it does. One of these nites I am going to grab something that's offered ASAP before it wakes me up!

Rhoda went to her ob/gyn this morning, and while I waited for her, I checked my e-mail and found one from my buddy Phil Bergovoy which had the text of a review he wrote for my book, "Shadows." In case you haven't read it, here it is:-

One of the world's greatest living poets shares the beauty of language Rated by Guest - 11/18/2007

Because Norman Ross is a modest man, he has hitherto not published many of his best poems. After many years of urging by friends, critics, and former students, he has finally consented to reveal some of the work that has gained him a first-rate reputation among the privileged literary elite. Mr. Ross is truly a Renaissance man--military hero (two Distinguished Flying Crosses and 11 Air Medals before the age of 21); outstanding athlete and coach; an incredibly talented teacher; a published author in many disparate fields; a loyal patriot and fried; and the progenitor of four outstandingly talented, successful children. If you are a poetry aficionado, you will relish these finely-crafted works of art. If you are not, you may become one as a result of the lively expression of ideas that Dr. Ross has put into verse.

Now I truly appreciate Phil's having taken the time to write a review (so far the only one) but I don't know why he thinks I'm "fried". I rarely drink enough to get fried and he knows that.

When RH+ returned home, we drove to Boca's Town Center mall where she had a number of errands to run and I dragged along. It was not my merriest hour. But first we stopped at the "FirstWatch Cafe" where she had her lunch and I had my breakfast. They make the best Belgian waffles around and it comes with bacon and two eggs, and likely enough it's called a "Trifecta". The only previous trifecta I ever had was at Roosevelt Raceway in Long Island where I was with another long time friend, Irv Forman. We won $600 on that trifecta for which you must pick 3 horses to finish 1,2,3 in any order. Unfortunately the raceway has been torn down and only more shops have replaced it. Now trifectas have been reduced to bacon and eggs and a waffle. I wonder whatever happened to the "Perfecta"??? They probably will have knocked off the waffle. BON JOUR, MON INFANTES

"He has eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his" (2 Henry IV)

Today my poetry book, SHADOWS in the SUNSET appears on sale on many online book stores including Amazon, Barnes & Nobel, Borders & many others that can be found at the following link...if it works. Otherwise one can just go to B&N online and type in the title--or copy and paste it on your browser window. So now I'm a two-time famous unknown author. I can't wait for the royalties to come flooding in.

http://www.bookfinder4u.com/IsbnSearch.aspxisbn=0615170919&mode=direct.

I'm going to need an ocean full of royalties (to mix a metaphor) because it's becoming very expensive to dine at home or out. Rho just gave me a bill for groceries of $67. Wednesday we went to Sweet Tomatoes with the Herbstmans for $20; Thursday we went with the Bergers to Quarterdeck for $38; Friday to Flakowitz for $35 with the Strumlaufs; and yesterday with the Horowitzes for $71; and tonite--besides that grocery bill, we are dining with the Zions at a Cuban cafe. So I figure for the last five days, it will have cost me $50 a day to stuff my mouth. And I'm supposed to lose weight? Fat chance! (No pun intended). It's nice to have friends...but give me a break.

Now for the holidays. Of course for Thanksgiving we are going to Maggiano's, an Italian restaurant with the Zions. That seems to be a tradition since we've gone out with them for several Thanksgivings. Of course, even though Maggiano's is Italian, they will have Turkey on the menu. I still might pass on that for some shrimp oregano. Following that, a couple of weeks later we are going on a cruise where the food is elegant and the desserts mountainous. And then, of course, there's New Year's Eve when we are planning to join the Strumlaufs at The Isle Casino, where not only we may lose our money gambling, but also there's that buffet which presents a cornucopia of food from all nations.

Ho hum. Felice Thanksgiving!

"There are a sort of men...who are reported wise for saying nothing." (Merchant of Venice)

It was nice to get 3 comments to yesterday's blog; however I don't know why a couple of the commenters clicked "anonymous" and then signed their names. No one needs to sign their names unless they choose to. At any rate, there was nothing critical about the comments--even so, I still would publish them. The comments come direct to my email inbox with a link to publish them, or moderate them, or reject them. I do not reject or moderate any of them. Anyone can read them by just clicking on the comment button at the bottom of the blog. One of the commenters asked where the 3rd rabbi was. He was writing the blog.

The small person in the middle of the picture is the 3rd rabbi's spouse. If they ever spawned a child--wow! Just thinking about it makes me awestruck. Also one of the responders claimed that having me out for a social would be the quietest day of his life since he felt I was too silent, taciturn, and several other similar qualities--although he still thought me to be a great friend.

Just got back from a 2lb. lobster dinner which I would rate as 2*s or a C-. However, the company was superb. Friends from way back in East Meadow--Arlene and Lenny Horowitz. They live right across the way in Glen Eagles, and in the summer they retire to their place in Long Island. Nice way to live. I loaned out my book to them, and I hope it holds their interest, and that they enjoy it. I know they are avid readers just like my daughter and my wife. I did play golf with Lenny a couple of times when he was good enough to invite me over to his club. He was quite a good guy to play with, and his golf had a lot of potential. Having potential, however is a heavy burden!

When JR and BR were here I told them I would like to see the film , "Beowulf" when it came out and they told me it was nothing like the epic poem I had my classes read in high school. Apparently it came out in Virginia before it came here. Well it opened day before yesterday and the reviewer in our paper gave it 4*s. From the review it appears that the film does follow the story. It features Hrothgar and Grendel and Grendel's mother in the naked form of Angela Jolie.

At any rate it is being shown in IMAX in 3D. I'd love to see it that way, but it's way down in Ft. Lauderdale. I'll just have to settle for a theater around here.

VAYA CON DIOS MON AMIS!

"Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright..." (2 Henry VI)

My two sons are gone now, and I'm just starting to recover from the wild times we shared together. We all have beards, and perhaps to others who saw us we looked like a convention of rabbis. Bobby has the most hair. In fact he has about as much hair on his head and face as on a grizzly Bear's whole body. I must have given my hair gene to Bobby and his sister. No two brothers that I know of are less like each other than these two, and that's just an observation--not a critique. Bobby is gregarious, outgoing, verbal, warm, friendly, sociable, cordial, genial, and garrulous--all of the above are the requisite qualities he takes to his job as a sales agent for Harley-Davidson. Joel, on the other hand is taciturn, reserved, silent, reticent, introverted, aloof, highly intelligent, and witty--requisite qualities for an employee of the CIA. (And thank God for the Thesaurus). If I had to compare myself to them, I'd say I am most like JR. Although I don't mean to imply that each does not have some of the qualities of the other from time to time--depending on the circumstances. One quality that each of them shares is stubbornness, a quality which they probably got from their mother's side.

Now that I cannot play golf anymore, I'm somewhat at a loss as to what to do to replace it. After all, I'm used to playing three or four times a week and a round of golf, counting transportation and etc., generally takes about five hours. That's a large time span to fill up doing nothing. Of course, writing this blog takes about an hour or so by the time I finish editing it. But what next? I had thought about teaching another Shakespeare play, but that takes a lot of preparation and I no longer have the kind of energy I need to teach a class as I once did. Then, of course, I spent the last couple of years writing my book, but that's also been put to bed. My current plan is to write another book--a fiction book involving some famous philosopher's life, i.e.: Spinoza, Aristotle, or Mike Herbstman. Any other ideas? Happy Thanksgiving.

"Keep thy friend under thine own life's key..." (All's Well that ends Well)

It seems that I have developed a "pen pal" from England--Ruth Grimsley (60) who just happens to be a cousin of my ex-wife, Thelma...a most recently discovered cousin, actually. It's a long story, too long to exposit here--just take my word for it, Ruth is related to Thelma's side of the family. Ruth and I have developed a correspondence since she purchased a copy of my book. She is a very bright gal who was a lawyer, but now is involved with "philology". I presume when I was married to my ex, I was Ruth's "cousin-in-law", and so she still signs off as "Cuz" which is fine with me. I could always use another cousin--especially one who takes the time to write to me as none of the others do. Since reading my book she says she has a "burning desire" to visit Dunkeswell in England where I was stationed in WWII; and she also wrote she would like to meet me. Of course, the feeling is mutual--I can just imagine us shooting darts in a pub while imbibing some bitters and ale. Won't happen.

Joel and Bobby are no doubt settled into their normal routine after their too brief visit here. Fortunately we still have some food left--a few slices of bread and some bottled water. They took home with them two of my treasured gold coins; (if my daughters are reading this--don't fret, I have a couple for you when you get to south Florida, although gold has dropped slightly below $800 an ounce now).

Now, I await my dear wife's call from the beauty parlor so I can join her for lunch.

She'll be quite famished after conducting a lively City of Hope meeting this morning. By "famished", I mean hungry--not "fam-ished" confused. Bon jour tout a les amis.

"'Tis ever common, men are merriest when they are from home..." (Henry V)

On Sunday night Rho and I picked up my sons Joel and Bobby and drove them from the Fort Lauderdale airport to their hotel on Federal Highway in Boca Raton--about 20 minutes from our condo. After they washed up and refreshed themselves, we went directly to the Red Lobster restaurant a short distance away from there and we had a fine dinner--especially the boys. Well they're not really boys anymore--I should say the "guys"; although I have trouble avoiding calling them my "kids". After dinner we drove back to the house and we chatted for awhile until about 10pm. Joel gave us a couple of very nice pens that even lit up. I'm sure it will come in handy when I have to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night. In addition to those pens, we were given something of greater value--a box of Mallomars which are worth their weight in gold. So, in return I gave each of them a piece of their "inheritence"--a one-ounce gold coin...and since gold is now going for over $800 and ounce, I guess it was sufficient to make us even for the pens and Mallomars.

On Monday--a second Veterans' Day, I took the guys to the driving range and gave each of them a lesson on how to swing the driver. It was sad to see the results of this lesson, since I had to watch the balls go in every which direction except straight. However, I told them that their swings had "potential"--meaning with several years of practice perhaps they would develop swings that would help them to be more accurate with their driving. After hitting a couple of buckets of balls we retired to the putting green and had a contest which I won handily. After that I took Bobby to his grandmother's grave site to pay his respects; Joel did not feel that he cared for the experience and we respected his feelings. In the late afternoon we went to Green Cay wetlands where there was a boardwalk at least a circular mile where you could take photos of all sorts of birds, flora and fauna. It was really wonderful for me to see my kids in real life rather than in e-mail, etc.

On Monday night we took them to a Chinese buffet where they ate and left hardly anything over for other customers. After they sated, we went to my sister's place in Century Village where they enjoyed seeing their Aunt Betty and Uncle Mickey. My nephew, Zaldor, has an apartment in the same building and when we went down there for a visit, at least I was one who was absolutely stunned! The place was decorated like a bordello! Candles were everywhere, incense was burning, incandescent lamps with different colors were all over the place which was in the dark without normal lighting that one would expect. On one wall were shelves containing at least 2000 CDs. Every wall in the apartment was decorated with photos of rock stars and rock bands and Beatles. There is really no way to describe it adequately. You just have to be there. Finally, today I took them to the airport and by this time they should be back in their own homes. I hope y'all enjoyed the weekend. Buenos noches.

VETERANS' DAY, NOV.11,2007

JOEL'S REMARKS AT MEDAL CEREMONY
FEB. 2003

The horror of war is not a boy’s game. Yet so often we call upon our children to rid the world of the evil we have allowed to fester. Perhaps this is so because the young still cling to their cloak of innocence and preserve the power to care about the future each will bring to their own progeny.

My father was such a child, thrown into a maelstrom the likes of which the world had never seen, and has yet to see since. Barely out of high school, he awoke to the whine of Pratt & Whitney engines, his heart matched beat for beat the burst of Nazi flak, and his spirit relaxed to the haunting promises of bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover. Yet even after the engines became silent and the birds had come and gone, the conflict was still not over for my father.

How does one relinquish the memories of brothers-in-arms who had fallen by your side? How does a boy recover the lost years that are meant for proms and parades and passion, but were replaced by bombs and parachutes and destruction?

In my father’s case, it was to attack life with the same intensity that he launched against the enemy in battle. He did not go to just any college; he went to Columbia University. He did not just graduate with a bachelor’s degree; he pressed on to receive a doctorial degree summa cum laude. He didn’t just get married and have a child; he had four children – of which, by the way, I turned out to be the best looking.

He became an English teacher. Just a teacher? No, he became the chairman of the English Department. He was a sports coach -- of championship teams, and president of the coaches association. He became a referee -- and president of the referees’ association.

This was the hero that my siblings and I grew up with. He used the same fervor that won him sports championships and perfect test scores to become the best father that he could be. He taught me to kick a soccer ball, and I was offered sports scholarships. He bought a dog for my younger sister to care for, and now she owns a pet shop. He ran alongside my brother as he careened on his first bicycle, and my brother went on to build his own Harley-Davidson. He helped my older sister learn to read and write, and to this day… she can still read and write. That is to say, she is a published author. He also taught us all how to mow the lawn and shovel snow and keep our rooms clean, but those lessons were not learned -- only because we feigned ignorance.

Yet in spite of all this enthusiasm for life and achievement and success, there was a dark light behind my father’s eyes. “The war” was never discussed at home, even though we would sometimes catch a glimpse of some old aviator’s goggles and helmet, along with a brittle logbook. We also knew that he had a couple of medals, but those were kept hidden away in a closet. We heard rumors that there had been “incidents” during the war and that his pain and sorrow still played tricks with his mind, bringing to him during the dead of night reminders that the souls of his brothers were left in foreign lands while he was allowed to lead a normal life. The tears were unbearable, and his “normal” life haunted him to silence.

In recent years, you all probably have noticed a resurgence in interest regarding the men and women who fought and won the Second World War – many of whom I see are here today in the audience. “The Greatest Generation” has now become a catchphrase. I believe that the well publicized acknowledgement that even the simplest participation in that war was extraordinary began a healing that allowed my father to lift his head and see that what he did as a teenager was as difficult a task as he thought it was, and far more important than he could have imagined. In an ironic testament to how he helped the world to change, his eldest grandchild will set foot in Germany two days from now on his way to study in Europe. As Petty Officer Norman Rosenberg’s aircraft took off to drop ordinance nearly 60 years ago, could he ever have imagined that his actions would eventually allow him, as Dr. Norman Ross, to bid a proud bon voyage to a grandchild’s aircraft heading for the same ground below?

We are here today to honor my father for the risks he took to make this a better world for all of us. But we are also here to honor much more. He and his medals are but symbols for all who participated in that same great endeavor. And even more so, the exemplary life he led since his survival and return was his own personal way to honor his fallen comrades whose own options faded away in the glare of their mortal sacrifices.

I believe that they would also thank him today for rendering their final efforts worthwhile, for fulfilling his duty to them to live the kind of life that would make them all proud to have served with him and for him. And I can tell you this, Dad, first-hand:

Even without your medals and awards, even in the absence of your heralds and accolades, you have always been a hero to your children. Your heart, heavy with loss; your mind, conflicted with grief; and your soul, battered by circumstance, still were able to provide the desire, intelligence, and love for all those who know you to find the strength to measure up to the standards you have set for us all. And my proudest statement of all is to say to all who would listen:

I am the son of Norman Ross, a hero of our times.

"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