2008 A very good year?

Well, now--here it is, the last day of the year, and looking back what kind of year has it been? Of course, if memory fails me, I can always read my blogs for the year, but one real event that stays with me was the trauma of injuring myself on the Auto Train on the way to Virginia. It took me a long while to heal and a long time to be uncomfortable and in pain. The other unfortunate event was having to cancel the cruise we had planned in the Scandinavian countries to celebrate our 25th Anniversary in July. I became sick--of what I can't recall, but we just didn't get to cruise because of that. Otherwise, I believe it was a pretty good year. I got to publish a couple of blog books, and another will be published next year. Rho and I did get to go on a Xmas/Chanukah cruise to the Caribbean for ten days, and this time Rhoda became very ill and as soon as we got home from the cruise, I called 911 and she went to the hospital for a few days. She came back yesterday, and today she feels fine. 2008 also saw a Wall St. disaster and a new President-elect. At least, the guy of my choice won for a change. I had to wait eight years for that satisfaction. With the economy the way it is now, it is virtually impossible to find a place to put your money. I like to buy CDs which I believe is the best choice for retirees, but the interest rates for them are way down. The best rate I could find was at the Ever Bank in Jacksonville @ 3.25% for 12 months. I didn't know too much about that bank until I discovered a very helpful web site that gives you information about the security of any bank and if it's FDIC insured. (http://www.fdic.gov/deposit/deposits/index.html) Go to this site and click on "Bank Find". When you get there, just type in the name of the bank you want to find out about and the state it's in. I hope it works for you.

Because of Rhoda' illness, we had to cancel one more event. We were planning to go to the Isle Casino tonite with Mike and Helen H. but now our plans are to just go out for dinner and then come home. We may go next door for a drink later. I only drink soda--diet coke with the caffeine in it. I don't think next door carries it. Well, y'all have a very Happy New Year. I hope to start the New Year off tomorrow with a new blog.

"All men are poets at heart." (Emerson)

The poem "Invictus" in my blog yesterday is one of my favorites--maybe in the top 10. Letterman has a lot of top 10s on his shows, but I'm guessing never of poems. So, why can't I start a top 10 theme for various subjects on my blogs?

Since I don't hear any objections, why not now? If you've had a high school or college education, you should know every one of these--if not go to Google:

1.Invictus, (Henley); 2.The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, (Fitzgerald); 3. Stopping by Woods (Frost); 4. The World is Too Much With Us, (Wordsworth); 5. Kubla Khan, (Coleridge); 6. Dover Beach, (Arnold); 7. To a Mouse (Burns); 8. The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (T.S. Eliot); 9. Ode on a Grecian Urn, (Keats); 10. Ode to the West Wind, (Shelley)

So there, you have it. It wasn't an easy task for me to gather all these ten poems out of the hundreds I have read, but even though some may deserve to be in my top ten and they're not in it, I'm sure they'll get over it. It's like picking two teams for the NCAA football championship. There certainly are more than two who deserve to be in the game. Well, perhaps when we come home from our cruise I'll try to pick out the ten best of something else that has captured my interest...including culinary treats of course. Speaking of the cruise, I am all packed for tomorrow while Rhoda hasn't even begun--and it's now 1pm. I'm not concerned--she'll be ready tomorrow. A limo will be picking us up at 11:30. Besides our luggage, we are going to bring along the parts of my scooter to be assembled at the port. We're going on the Holland American ship, Noordam for ten days. So, this will be my last blog for at least the next ten days. Bon jour and have a wonderful holiday.

My only Priest is my Conscience.

Yesterday I obtained an ISBN for my book "Pater Noster in Condoland Vol. III". So now it's an official publication to be listed in the Congressional Record, or wherever, and also on Amazon, etc. for sale if anyone out there wants to buy a book of blogs. It's a book that's dedicated to my four children, but I believe I already sent them copies. It wasn't so hard to get that ISBN and it didn't cost me a dime. It didn't cost me a dime to get the book published either...it only cost me to buy the book, but even I don't have to buy it if I don't want to. It, of course, can be located at the right hand column of this blog by clicking on the "My Lulu Store". I'm working now on Vol. IV of Pater Noster, and it will be dedicated to a feature and voluble commentator on these blogs, Mr. Phil Bergovoy, teacher, coach, and friend, extra-ordinaire. However, I have to be very careful about what I write on these blogs, so I don't upset his political equilibrium. For example, when I write in the blog to be "liberal with the chocolate icing on the cake," Phil gets a hissy fit and reminds me how the Democratic governors of the State of Illinois have been put in jail, although I fail to see the connection between "liberal" doses of chocolate and criminal governors. But Phil is so bright that he reads between the lines and sees stuff that the rest of us are unaware of. Incidentally, did I mention that this blog "Liberality" was published in the Florida Sun-Sentinel on Saturday, Dec.13? Yeah, think I did yesterday.

As a result of this insignificant accomplishment, son Joel suggested in an e-mail (tongue in cheek) that I write away and offer to be a columnist for the paper. Phil suggested that I was a combination of J.L Mencken, Jimmy Cannon, and Damon Runyan. I feel more like Charlie Chaplin, Harpo Marx, and the Mills Brothers. However, whenever my feathers are blown thither and hither I think of the poem, "Invictus" by William Henley.

INVICTUS

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstances
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the honour of the shade,
And yet the menaces of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishment the
Scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Don't you just love it?

"What is a man profited if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" (Matthew XVI)

Today when I opened the newspaper to the editorial page, I found that the Sun-Sentinel published my November 20th blog, "Liberality". It took so long for them to decide to publish it, that yesterday I sent it to the Palm Beach Post. My timing is not so good. The S-S put a nice headline in bold letters over my article, "Liberalism is Good for the Soul". Now I don't know about that. I mean do we actually have a soul? When we die does it actually (if we're good) leave the body and rise up to Heaven? And I wonder where Heaven can possibly be since the Earth is round, the moon is round, all the planets are round, and the sun is really very hot and round. Astronomers now claim that the Universe began with a "big bang" and is still expanding. So where can Heaven be located? I know that when I die, I want to be buried with "OnStar" which will give me directions...assuming that I'm eligible for Heaven. And which moral code will I be using in my life? There is hardly any item of our Western moral code which is not held somewhere to be immoral; not only polygamy but suicide, murder of one's own countrymen, even of one's parents, finds in one people or another a lofty moral approval.

The wives of Fijian chiefs consider it a sacred duty to suffer strangulation on the death of their husbands. I know Rhoda will tender objections to this practice. One anthropologist finds that the Makololo women, on the shores of the Zambezi, were quite shocked to hear that in England a man had only one wife; to have only one was not 'respectable.' So too, in Equatorial Africa, if a man marries, and his wife thinks he can afford another spouse, she pesters him to marry again; and calls him a 'stingy' fellow if he declines to do so. Well, I suppose that it doesn't hurt to have more than one woman in the household to do the domestic chores. Such facts, of course, conflict with the Western belief that there is an inborn sense which tells each man what is right and what is wrong. But if I adopted polygamy, I'm sure Rhoda would leave and I'm stuck with one wife, anyway.

Harking back to the soul and Heaven, there are those who believe the soul never leaves the body. That, indeed, is loyalty--an important item in the Western moral code--but a little hard to swallow be there a Heaven.

To fair winds and calm seas.....

I'm getting rather concerned about the blog readers out there. You all must be either ill or very busy. It's been a while since I've gotten any comments, and I hope it's not because recent blogs have been somewhat dull. Usually comments come pouring in whether or not they make any sense or have reference to the particular blog. Anyway, for your information, Red Baron has never rejected a comment and they are immortalized in the book that gets published when there are enough pages to make a book. The next one will be "Pater Noster in Condoland, Vol. IV". It may take a while because there's about 150 more pages to go. Right now, I'm working on a dedication. I have some ideas about the dedication, but no decision is forthcoming. I've dedicated a book to my parents, to my kids, and to my wife. I'd dedicate a book to the grandchildren, but they're not old enough. Besides, I don't believe they've read any of my books. Perhaps they'll develop some interest in my "Memoirs" when they are 50 something. Right now I do understand their lack of motivation. If I'm wrong, I'll be amazed.

In six more days, we'll be going on a 10 day cruise, and both RH+ and I are really in need of a vacation. Just think--10 days without a phone call. Here, the phone doesn't stop ringing all day long. Another perk is that we don't have to make any decisions about what to do about dinner, and Rho will not have to cook or make the bed or do a laundry or wash the dishes or get the mail or use up gas on the car. By the time we leave she will have sent out all the Hanukkah and Christmas cards and delivered gifts to all the doctors' offices. Rho is efficiency personified. We usually bring the receptionists tins of cookies that we pick up in Costco or Wal-Mart. We'll be coming home on the 27th of December just in time to welcome the New Year. So far, our plans are to spend New Year's Eve at the Isle Casino with Mike and Helen Herbstman. Going out to dinner and a movie is no longer in our repertoire.

While we are away, I'm going to have to reacquaint myself with the "torn shirt" school of acting notably portrayed by Marlon Brando in "A Streetcar Named Desire" in the role of Stanley Kowalski. Back many years ago when I taught Shakespeare to my classes, I used to do Hamlet's soliloquies by ripping my shirt into shreds. This tactic instantly turned the class into awestruck, jaw dropping attention; that is, after the laughter abated. The "torn shirt" school and method acting supposedly originated with the Russian Konstantin Stanislovsky. In Stanislavski's 'system' the actor analyzes deeply the motivations and emotions of the character in order to personify him or her with psychological realism and emotional authenticity. Using the Method, an actor recalls emotions or reactions from his or her own life and uses them to identify with the character being portrayed. And so when my next class begins on January 9th, I will be prepared to recite some of "Hamlet" using "The Method" and becoming Brando and Richard Burton, and Laurence Olivier, and Richard Chamberlain-- all at the same time!

"So good a lady that no tongue could ever pronounce dishonour of her." (Henry VIII)

I received an e-mail from California daughter, Bonny, that is the kind of email I prefer getting instead of jokes or boring articles I have no interest in. (See blog Thurs. Dec. 4). Since what she writes qualifies as a blog, I am making her a guest blogger and publishing her email as an example of what family and friendly emails should be like--that is, full of news.

Hello Dad! Just wanted to see how you are. I've read your blogs and you sound as if you are doing just fine. Don and I just got home from dinner from "Coco's", not bad but not good. I had a lobster sandwich. Please share this with Rh+, I'm not so savvy at this internet stuff, because I still find that after work and playing with my dogs, and shopping, cooking, gardening, and working on my art, and trying to keep a house in order among all the other stuff, taking care of "my guy", and my son, and the in-laws, and mom, I don't really like to be on computer. Only to be in touch with family. You.!! Sean came over last night, Dec.8th, a day after his 26thbirthday. Can you believe it? I invited mom over, Sean only had an hour in between his classes, and I managed to cook (within a half hour of getting home from work), filet mignon with Bearnaise sauce, carrots and red potatoes, and managed a chocolate bomb some kind of fancy dessert I just had to microwave, a little wine, and I pulled it off. Sean was full, Don did the dishes ( I love that guy), and I think Sean seemed fat and happy and left to finish his studies. ( I love that kid). Don will be in Santiago, Chile for a gig...Did I tell you that I love you? I will talk to you both before you leave for your trip. Hugs to Rh and kisses to you. ....Bonny

I had to renew my driver's license today, and it's quite a puzzle you have to endure. First of all you stand in a line that's painted on the floor. I don't know what happens if you put your foot over the line. Then a woman in one of the stations calls you up. She asks for your name and address, your telephone number and your date of birth. Then she instructs you to walk through a blue door--really--it's all blue. Before you go in your imagination runs rampant about what's on the other side, but you walk in and you see a bunch of chairs, and apparently you're supposed to sit there until you get a call for a number the first agent gives you. Mine was "B31313". After about 10 minutes your number is called and you are instructed to march to station six--there are ten stations. The agent then collects your driver's license and picture ID and instructs you to take the eye test. She said, "Read line 5" . I looked into the machine and all the lines were a blur. I went into temporary shock, figuring I wouldn't pass, and suddenly disembodied voice said, "Put your glasses on." I thought that was very wise, and so I did, and those letters on line five were a clear eyeful. I walked back to stations six, and the agent asked me a whole bunch of questions like was my license ever suspended, did I ever get caught DUI, do I take insulin for diabetes, etc. Finally she said to give her $21 which I thought was fair enough. Then she took my picture, and I tried to smile--but it was difficult. Then I was asked to sit in another room until my name was called. After about 15 minutes, someone called my name, I walked out of the room, and the agent handed me my new driver's license. The best thing about it is that it doesn't expire until February 2015! It really felt good that the Motor Vehicle Bureau was so optimistic about me. I'll be happy to give up my license in 2015. I'll be 91!

"It is always in season for old men to learn." (Aeschylus)

It's interesting to note now that whatever stores we go into there are a few scooters available for walkless people--though not really enough--scooters, not people. I see people in scooters everywhere--at the theater, in supermarkets, at the malls. I suppose this is getting to be the scooter capital of the world. I have my own little scooter now, decorated with Harley-Davidson stickers, and though I haven't had occasion to use it very often, when I do, several people have suggested that I look like Willie Nelson--my hair is long and I wear a bandanna and sun-glasses. I always respond that I AM Willie Nelson and then sing a few bars of one of his songs. It's fun being Willie Nelson. Perhaps one day, someone will ask if I'm Samson. I suppose that will make Rhoda, Delilah. Gosh, I don't know if I spelled that right.

I know. I know. I should be walking in water. Well, that will happen once we get back from our cruise. I promised RH+ that we'll give it another try since the calendar will be clear come January--except for Fridays when I'll be teaching "Hamlet" in the clubhouse, provided enough students sign up. I want a minimum of 15--although I'd love to have at least 25. I decided I'd give teaching Shakespeare another crack, but hopeful that I have the required energy to do it. Teaching "Hamlet" for an hour and a half is no easy jaunt in the park what with the teacher attempting to recite the soliloquys from memory in Elizabethan dialect--and getting students to read various parts decently. The course will be given every Friday from 3 to 4:30 for six to eight weeks at a cost of $37.50. Books will be given out gratis--either "No Fear Shakespeare" or "Shakespeare Made Easy." Each version has Shakespeare on the left page and modern English on the right page. I'm not sure this is the way to go, but we'll give it a try. Shakespeare is not hard to read--it simply takes careful and thoughtful study of the lines. The rewards that come with understanding are huge.

If you go to Barnes & Noble on the internet, type in "Memoirs of a Tail Gunner" under the category of "Books" you will find the following comment which I just discovered today. I don't know who it is, but bless him/her every day until the Messiah comes.

Anonymous
A reviewer
Reader Rating See Detailed Ratings
Posted February 15, 2008, 11:06 PM EST: Amazing. A must have in every household. Must be read by everyone associated with the military. The Author is a genius.

"The wind that blows, the ship that goes, And a lass that loves a sailor." (Anon)

On Saturday we went to the old Burt Reynolds theatre, now called the Maltz; probably because some zillionaire donated enough money to get his name on the marquee. At any rate we saw the second show of the series we bought and this play called "Sleuth" was as much of a stinker as "Noises Off". The program listed five actors but we only saw two during the entire performance which couldn't be more boring if the author tried to make it so. It was supposed to be a mystery, but there was nothing mysterious about it. The only good thing was a spectacular set. The prop master had to secure 500 props for the performance. I called the theater today and asked why there were only two actors and not the five that were listed in the program. The answer was "That was part of the mystery--there were only supposed to be two actors." So much for stupidity. It's running rampant at that theater. We have two more shows on our subscription: "Beehive" (?) and "Evita". I'm looking forward to "Evita". At least that was written by a sane person.

Today I went to the V.A. dental clinic to get what's left of my teeth, cleaned. The hygienist brought in a copy of my book to sign. She said that she and her husband read and enjoyed it. And so I was happy to sign it. When I got to the VA parking lot and finally found a space, I realized that I forgot to take my cane, and I had a difficult and painful walk from there to the entrance and the elevator. The cane really helps to take the weight from my left leg--which is a big problem walking without the cane Bobby, my son, thoughtfully bought for me when we were visiting in Virginia. We'll be leaving on a cruise a week from Wednesday, (Dec.17) and we'll be spending ten days sailing in the Caribbean. A cruise ship is really like a luxurious floating hotel. The problem with cruising is that you must eat what is served because it looks so good and there's a whole lot of it--it seems all day, what with breakfast, lunch, poolside snacks, dinner and late snacks. Also, the casino loves to suck up the money you haven't already used to pay for the cabin. We also bought three "excursions" for when the ship docks at various islands--way overpriced, I thought. There are also shows on the ship most every night and they are much better than the turkeys we saw in Jupiter. I think those shows really came from Jupiter. We'll be at sea for Chanukah and Christmas so it should really be a festive experience. Of course I won't be able to write any blogs until we get back on the 27th of December. Read a magazine.

"There is but one good throw upon the dice, which is to throw them away." (Chatfield)

So that there will be no misunderstanding of the blog I wrote yesterday about sending articles, jokes, etc., if it's read carefully a friend who knows me and my interests will understand that they can feel free to send me anything they feel I would like to know about. Of course any photographs of gorgeous young ladies scampering about in the meadows, at the pool, or in the kitchen--or even elsewhere--with or without bathing suits, thongs, sleep wear or shoes will capture my attention. But try to remember that I'm in September.

Did you ever send an e-mail to someone or some company's customer service asking for advice about something you need to know, and get a reply that states you will receive a response "in 24 hours"? While waiting patiently at the PC's monitor, 25 hours have passed and still no response. Since your request was sent by e-mail, it could not have been put through the shredder. Perhaps the recycle bin? So, in frustration, you decide to use the telephone and after pressing "1 for English" (you're a true blue American, of course) you get a message from the "main menu" suggesting that you press another number from 1 to 18 (Chai). After listening to all the numbers, you've forgotten the one you need to press in order to get a live person who doesn't chant their English. Consequently, you just punch "Operator" over and over, and wouldn't you know it--a live person comes on wishing you a lovely day and asking what they can do for you. As it turns out, there is not a thing they can do for you, so they say they will switch you to a supervising technician. You are all a-twitter! You're getting some action. She says "Can you hold?" and you reply in the affirmative. After a few maddening minutes, you suddenly get a dial tone. Then you get a xanax.

"A friend is someone who dislikes the same people you dislike."

I'm beginning to find it exceedingly irksome--no maddening-- to be getting e-mails without end from friends that contain jokes or articles about politics, politicians, muslims, Israel, Yiddish, Immigration, the economy, taxation, Obama, Sarah Palin, W., Iraq, Iran, Yemensville, Afghanistan, or any other information that I can get for myself on the internet or in my newspaper. I do not want to be irked around anymore. Hear? Now I have many friends, some of whom are even dear, some of whom are mere acquaintances who, for some mysterious reason find it compelling to bombard my inbox with e-mails that have nothing whatsoever to do with themselves or their lives. I don't know if sending an original or forwarding an unoriginal e-mail of the kind I have cited to a friend does something for the ego of the person sending it--something like, "Oh, see what I found for you to read! I'm really puffed up about finding this joke/article/story and I'm really into it and I can't wait to get it into you to show you how into it I am.!" I don't think the internet was established for these kinds of e-mails. The garbage you get you can find all by yourself and it just disappears into your trash folder at once.

What I want from a friend is an e-mail about his daily life. How is he feeling? How's the spouse? Any news about the children or grandchildren? See any good movies or shows lately? Read any good books? How was the vacation, the cruise, the flight? However, I rarely if ever, get anything like these things. Now, I would love to share my friends' life experiences with them. I never send a joke. Ever. And rarely send an article unless I'm certain the recipient of my e-mail would have a special interest in reading it. If friends want to know about my own daily life, all they have to do is tune in to my blogs at www.homeoftheredbaron.blogspot.com and they'll find out what I'm doing with my life and what I think about things going on in the world. If a friend is interested in me, he'll find the blog. This, I believe, is the way to go on the internet. Of course, the news needn't be in a blog; it can be in an e-mail, but don't irk me any more with article after joke after article after joke after cartoon without any knowledge of the writer that comes anywhere in the mail except in the "From" box. I don't need to know who the crapola is from--I would like to know more about the "From". I'm not attempting to be "nosy"--I just don't want to be besieged anymore with a "Hey, Norm, look at this! and then pass it on, or you'll have 7 years bad luck." Yeah. Right. But at my age, I'll just take the 7 years!

"The reason so few good books are written is that so few people who can write know anything."

I don't know if it's a verifiable cause for a celebration, but this will be the 300th blog that I have written since August 2007. I cannot remember how I got into this blog writing thing. I didn't even know what a blog was. I'm still not sure. I hope it's legal and that "blog" is not a code word for porn. No matter. The fact is that I am still writing them, and now there are three books of these blogs published as "Pater Noster in Condoland." I suppose they can serve as an addenda or epilogue to my autobiography, "Memoirs of a Tail Gunner," available on any online bookstore. I think I found this blogging website somehow from "googling" and there it was ready for pen and ink--metaphorically speaking. If I had to write my memoirs and 300 blogs in pen and ink, they would never have gotten done. There are some pens in the house, but no ink--only Elmer's glue and some scotch tape.

Today, I went back into the archives and found a blog that dealt with the difference between working and retirement in terms of which was most boring. After a bit of editing, I emailed it in to the Sun-Sentinel as an article for their forum page. If it gets published, I'll be a star in Huntington Lakes. If not, I'll remain in obscurity--a famous unknown author. Since I can't keep writing blogs forever, I've decided to take my teaching out of mothballs and give a class of "Fun with Shakespeare" in January here in the TV room of our clubhouse. I'll examine for the class all the nuances I can find in "Hamlet," my favorite play and probably the greatest ever written except perhaps for the one I wrote in the third grade called "Brisket and Kashe Varniskes." No kidding. Unfortunately that play was never published and no longer exists. It vanished in the hands of Miss Garmere. At any rate, those who register for my class will have the advantage of a book that has a modern English version of the text on the opposite page of the Elizabethan version. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. Shakespeare's English is far, far superior to modern English. And I do not believe people when they claim that they could not understand Shakespeare in high school. They didn't try hard enough--they didn't work at it. In high school, you're supposed to work. It's a given. I will even prove to the class that they can surely understand Geoffrey Chaucer's middle English from the "Canterbury Tales." For example--from his Prologue: "Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote, the droughte of March hath perced to the roote..." meaning "When that April with showers sweet has pierced the drought of March to the root." There; what's so hard? I prefer Chaucer. And so ends blog #300. I hope you've enjoyed some of them.

"I do not like the way the cards are shuffled, But yet I like the game and want to play." (Eugene Ware)

Well, here it is--December 1, beginning the final month of the year, 2008. This is usually the fun month what with Chanukah and Christmas to look forward to and Santa and lots of presents. Also it's the cruise month--especially for retirees. Rhoda and I are going on a 10 Day cruise to the Eastern Caribbean from December 17 to the 27th on the Holland American Line. Our ship will be the Noordam and we'll stop at St. Kitts, St. Lucia, Soufiere, Barbados, Martinique, and St. Thomas. I don't believe there is anything more relaxing than a cruise. You usually get a very interesting hotel-like room with a couch and a desk and a porthole where you can gaze at the ocean as you go by. In the room, you might read a book or magazine, do a crossword puzzle, write something if you choose or just nap on the bed while watching whatever TV offers on the sea. Then, of course, you can gamble if you wish at the slot machines or tables in the casino. You can sit on a lounge chair at the pool if that's your interest or have a drink in one of the night clubs. When lunch or dinner time comes around, there are the restaurants where you get top notch service and all the food you care to eat. After dinner you stroll down to the theater, find a comfortable seat and watch a show. With the show over, there are usually three or four clubs on the ship where you can loll around, do karaoke, and have a cool drink before you return to your cabin for a good night's sleep. Nothing to worry about on a cruise. All your troubles drop away from you like rain off a chicken. This will be my first cruise with a scooter. I will not have to walk the long distances from one end of the ship to the other. Using a scooter will be a new and weird experience for me--the marathon man. I am still not used to being so immobile as I find myself, and as I get around now with the use of a cane, I have to control the anger I have stirring around in my brain. But I suppose this condition is part of the territory of age.

It could be worse.

It's fortunate at this time that I can occupy myself observing with great interest how a new and exciting President elect goes about selecting those who will help him with some very difficult issues as he takes office. Senator Barack Obama is not letting any grass grow under his feet as he goes about picking his cabinet--those people who will help him to achieve the aims he has when he sits in the Oval Office. His most interesting appointment thus far is his choice for Secretary of State, a position that puts that person closer to the President than any of the others. Obama has chosen a former "enemy" of his, Hillary Clinton, both of whom threw plenty of barbs at each other during their campaigns to secure their nominations. I wonder, now, how they will get along and relate to each other at a very important hour in our country. Obama cannot afford to go too far to the left. Perhaps his most important duty is to make sure that when the two girls have sleepovers with their friends, that the girls get thoroughly checked for weapons. Firecrackers might be O.K., but pillow fights must be short and featherless. The first lady, Michelle Obama should be given a credit card so she can shop for clothing at least as expensive as the windfall given to Sarah Palin. The fact of the presidency I cannot fathom is his puny salary of $400,000 when athletic kids out of high school are given million dollar contracts just to play ball. The world is out of balance and fools have made it so.

"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.

"As they say, when the age is in, the wit is out." (Much Ado)

When you're almost 85 and you've recently lost your mobility--that is, your ability to walk very far without a cane and without pain, there isn't much you can do with your time. Well, perhaps there is for some people, but not for me. Before we went to Virginia on the auto-train a couple of months ago, I was taking pool therapy a couple of times a week. But now, I've lost my interest in that; I don't think it was helping me that much or quickly enough for me to return to it now. It's just too much to pack a bag, drive to the Y, wait for someone to wheel you to the pool because it's too far to walk there; then to get into a little room, take off and hang up your clothes, put on a bathing suit--and pool shoes; have a therapist walk you back and forth in the pool for 45 minutes and then wait for someone to wheel you back to the dressing room where you reverse the procedure you took when you first got there--only this time with the additional chore of drying yourself with a towel. It simply isn't worth the effort for this person. And golf is no longer part of the retirement equation--especially when you can't walk from the golf cart up a hill to the green, and then after three putts to bend down and take the ball out of the hole, when if you do bend that far you damage your back worse than it was when you first went to your orthopedist. And, too, you can't risk putting on your socks for the same reason. Fortunately, Rhoda has developed a lot of skill in doing that particular chore--whenever she's around to do it. Then, of course, a multitude of would be helpers advised that I go to the gym and lift weights. Well, I did "pump iron" for several years before I got down here, and I did look somewhat like Schwarzenegger. Didn't I say "somewhat"? Pumping iron, besides being boring is also not easy on a man's back, front, top, or bottom. So, I don't do that. How about bowling? Well I tried that when I was able to walk, but I always bowled my golf score. I threw more gutter balls than Ralph Nader got votes. I retired from bowling with a 73 average. About the only exercise I get is writing--and thanks to the computer for that. So, at 84, that's what I do--write. I've written my autobiography and I've published three books of blogs since I began writing them. I began before I really knew what a blog was. I still am not sure. Maybe they're all op-ed pieces. Maybe diary entries? Besides writing, I exercise by doing x-word puzzles--especially the Sunday Times and Washington Post puzzles. When I say I "do" them, I don't mean to imply that I finish them. At one time I could and did finish them, but now they are simply exercises for my brain and my memory. Also, there are fond memories of 5-mile walks, 8-mile runs, 80 laps in the pool, sex every night. (Did I say "every" night?), softball games, racquetball, and pinochle.

Well, I just realized that with the love letters I've been getting from former students and colleagues, there's one more thing I can do--teach. And so, I've decided to revive my course called "Fun With Shakespeare" and I will be teaching "Hamlet" starting in January in the Clubhouse TV Room. And should you not want to spring for the course fee, at least buy one of my books, so that I can feel that I'm making a contribution to society by helping to rebuild our economy.

"We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart." (Hamlet)

The dictionary defines "legacy" as "something received from an ancestor or predecessor from the past." I suppose that's me if I want my progeny to remember me. So, I must again take a "blogging" opportunity to document my "legacy" for the future generations of my family. To do so I will again write what I received from a student of mine from the class of 1964; a "student" who must now be 60+ I would imagine:

Dr. Ross introduced me to the love of my life--words. It was in his class that I discovered the pure sensual joy that using words can give, and the tremendous satisfaction of working with words to communicate precisely one's intent. In introducing us to poetry and teaching us to analyze a poem, I had my first experience in what became my profession which is psychoanalysis. Words were the tools by which the poet commucicated his or her unique emotional or perceptual reality, and it is by listening to a person's words that I can participate in that reality in my office. But it was in teaching me to use my mind that Dr. Ross made his greatest impact on me. I had never thought of myself as particularly bright or smart before meeting him. I got the feeling as his student that he "got" me, and it was this recognition and validation of my thinking and creativity that allowed me to see myself as a capable student, and I hold that awareness with me today. Thank you, Dr. Ross, for your discipline and humor, and for that special talent that only certain teachers have of imparting a love for learning. Barbara Mitchell Kolenda, Class of '64

Since one letter from a student does not a legacy make, here is one from the former North Shore H.S. psychologist:

As a young man, you repeatedly risked your life during World War II, and because of your sacrifice you enabled us to remain free. As a teacher, you mentored those free young souls, gracing them with the power and beauty of literature and wisdom far beyond what ordinary teachers have. As a father, your love and commitment to your children brought them through confused times and enabled each of them to make his or her chosen path in life. As a friend, you never let down those who were lucky enough to be counted among your many comrades. As a man, there are few who egual your rich and varied life, and there are none who surpass the sum total of your courage, your wisdom, your love and your loyalty. Knowing you has made us all better people, and has made this world a better place to inhabit. Ray Maccagli, School Psychologist, 1970-1972.

I realize that I am in a rare position late in my life to receive such endearing compliments written to and about me. It is most rewarding and satisfying to have been a teacher most of my days on this earth and to know that I have reached out and touched someone.

Coming of Age in the 21st Century

Last Saturday night I went to a Bat Mitzvah reception which was held in a very large room in a Temple. Actually, I never heard of a "Bat" Mitzvah which is held for a girl who has reached the age of 12. When I was a Bar Mitzvah, I don't recall any girls in my Hebrew class. But now, I have no idea when girls started to become Bat Mitzvah, not that it matters to me. Why shouldn't girls have the same rites and right as boys? Including a reception that is becoming more and more like a wedding? "Bar Mitzvah" literally means "son of the commandment." "Bar" is "son" in Aramaic, which used to be the vernacular of the Jewish people. "Mitzvah" is "commandment" in both Hebrew and Aramaic. "Bat" is daughter in Hebrew and Aramaic. (The Ashkenazic pronunciation is "bas"). Technically, the term refers to the child who is coming of age, and it is strictly correct to refer to someone as "becoming a bar (or bat) mitzvah." However, the term is more commonly used to refer to the coming of age ceremony itself, and you are more likely to hear that someone is "having a bar mitzvah."

The receptions that parents give their progeny these days are in the cost range of $50000 to $100,ooo range. And also these receptions have to have "themes". For a boy it could be sports, but for Chelsea on Saturday it was "Chelsea's Winter Wonderland." Often before dinner there is a "Cocktail Hour" when servers come around with trays filled with all kinds of hors doevres. Then if you want to fill up your plate with lots of food, there are tables covered with whatever you would like--chopped liver, fruit, potato pancakes, lox, --whatever. By the time you are invited to your table in the main dining room, you are fooded to the limit. When you enter the dining room you are greeted with a DJ or a band and a million decibel of music. The dance floor gets flooded with teenagers and adults jumping up and down as if they were in an aerobics class. Then comes the soup or salad and along about midnight I found on my plate a filet mignon that looked delicious but because of the cocktail hour food orgy, I couldn't eat it. Back in 1937 when I had my reception, it was in the apartment and everyone dined on deli sandwiches. In addition, the custom was for the bar mitzvah boy to write and read a speech. They don't do that any more. They just interrupt the dinner by having aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, grandparents, friends, and parents to come up to the stage and light a candle. What a bore!

"O God of battles! Steel my soldiers' hearts." (Henry V)

I am simply amazed that today I received a comment on a blog I wrote 15 months ago on August 26, 2007 called "Bad Dog, Bad Dog" ! It was from someone named Yolinda and she wrote, "You write very well". Now, I can't think of any four words nicer than that. The point is--what was she doing reading a blog I wrote that long ago? She's way behind. How did she get to it? Did she write the comment back then and it's just getting to my blogspot now? Are there really many people out there reading my blogs whom I don't know? Well, I don't think I'll find the answers to these questions. People writing comments don't usually leave their email addresses. But wherever she may be, I thank Yolinda for the compliment.

Today is Veterans Day, but I don't feel any different from any other day. There aren't' too many people around in my building--and most everywhere else-- who have any memories about WWII. Even if they are 70 years old, they were only 7 when WWII ended and only 4 when we got into it. So, when they meet a vet from WWII, they are probably wondering what he is still doing around. It's somewhat like someone who was 70 in 1934. How much would they care about the Civil War which ended in the year they were born or about vets who fought in it? Most Civil War vets were long gone in 1934 or in their 80s and 90s and getting around with a cane or a wheelchair. I don't remember honoring Civil War vets when I was 10 in '34. November 11 was called "Armistice Day" back then and referred naturally to the end of WWI. My father earned a Purple Heart in that war and I wonder if the American Legion still puts a flag by his grave on this day.

"We are such stuff as dreams are made on..." (The Tempest)

I make no claim to be a medical researcher or a lab technician or whoever is in charge of these things, but there really must be something to this DNA stuff besides a starring role on CSI and Law and Order. My son, Joel, has done a spectacular genealogy chart of our family which anyone interested can find on the internet, but genealogy charts do not do justice to the effect of DNA on members of the family. My mother's family, the Auslanders, appear to have inherited the talent DNA all the way down (so far) to her great grandchildren. My mother was for a time a night club singer and her sister, Bessie, was a very talented writer--never published, however. I was the first member of the family to have graduated from college, and while in retirement (the DNA is rather slow, I guess), I had the performing gene. In our condominium 600+ theater I had the leading role in several productions of Broadway shows such as PAJAMA GAME, MUSIC MAN, SHOWBOAT, FIDDLER ON THE ROOF, MY FAIR LADY, HMS PINAFORE, THE MIKADO, and PIRATES of PENZANCE. I could always sing, and I must have learned to act through years of teaching. I also inherited the writing gene having written and published my autobiography in MEMOIRS of a TAIL GUNNER and several books of blogs and poetry.

My mother's sister, Bessie had four children, one of whom had professional musical talent. My cousin, Eddie played drums with the KIRBY STONE FOUR, a group that opened Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, made several albums, and had their own television show--black and white. Eddie is also now retired.

My sister's son, Jeffrey (known now as "Zaldor") has a great voice and music has been a part of his whole life, but unfortunately he has never capitalized on his talent. Of my mother's seven other grandchildren, three graduated college--my son, Joel and my daughter, Robin, and my sister's son, David. Shayne, my sister's granddaughter is a real talent--acting and singing. She is soon graduating from the prestigious high school, the Dreyfoos School of the Arts in West Palm Beach. Rhoda and I went to see her perform in FAME and she was brilliant. She also has the red hair gene, passed down from my father, to me, and to my sister's granddaughter. But the talent gene seems to have skipped a generation and went on a real tear with my mother's great grandchildren, Adam, Hannah, Sean, Shayne, Megan and her great niece, Michelle--all of whom are college graduates with the exception of Shayne who is just graduating from high school and Megan who graduated last June. Adam is the founder of a Graphic Designer company, Hannah is a fashion photographer (and red haired!) for a California magazine and she had a showing of her photos in London. Her father assures me that she has the performing gene but has desided that her career will be in back of the camera. Sean is a talented artist who has had two shows and who is now attending the California School of the Arts. Michelle, my second cousin is an Opera singer who has performed professionally and who now is teaching singing in FIU. Megan is going to a performing arts school in New York, and Shayne expects to follow her there. Next stop, Broadway? Hollywood? What more can I say? Well, I can say a lot more, but I'm already confused enough.

"What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide." Henry VI

Not that I'm any great historian or philosopher or seer but I believe the election of Barack Obama as President of the United States was the most astounding event in the history of the world. And after all, my blogs are simply a record of my own opinions, and my skill in having opinions goes back a millennium ago to when I was five. But Obama's election was more incredible than an asteroid wiping out the dinosaurs; more unimaginable than Moses leading the Jews out of Egypt; more stunning than the assassination of Julius Caesar; more unbelievable than Israel winning a six day war against millions of Arabs; more impossible than the Greeks overcoming the Trojans with a wooden horse; more awe inspiring than landing a man on the moon; more implausible than knocking down the Berlin wall; more inconceivable than Hannibal leading elephants across the Alps; more improbable than my book becoming a best seller. And now that I have exhausted the thesaurus, perhaps there is an answer to this event of the centuries.

When television broadcasts projected and announced that Obama had won the election, millions of people--not only here--but around the globe were dissolved in tears. A man of color, a black man, an African-American had somehow become the President of the United States in a country where men like him had once been slaves and where minorities like him had suffered discrimination and prejudice since the Emancipation Proclamation. How is it then, that Obama was nominated to run, let alone win the election? Is it because the country was fed up with George Bush and the Republican party? If so, why not a white nominee?

Why not Hillary Clinton? Is it because Obama has a mesmerizing charisma? A hypnotic style of speech? His ability to raise millions of dollars from public contributions? Will anyone ever know how this all happened? Will the answer ever pop out of Pandora's box along with her economic evils? Yes. Perhaps in years to come, but not right now. Am I happy with the result of the election? Yes, very much so--and I'm hopeful that Obama will be able to fulfill the dreams that Americans have in him. And for those whose hopes rose and fell with John McCain, perhaps they will support and board Obama's train.

Barack Obama--President of the United States. Wow!

I admit that when the news reported that Barack Obama would become our next President, I didn't know how to react. I just felt a great sigh of relief, for I truly felt that this marvelous man would energize this country and bring Americans of all persuasions, races, color, religions or otherwise together as they never have been in the past. We must follow the beacon of equality and freedom that the founding fathers left burning for us until our country is truly--America, the greatest democracy in the history of the world--and the world has a very long history. I did happen to read in today's newspaper that a Haitian-American woman said she should now be known as an American-Haitian. And so why not just a plain American? Obama's election has electrified the world. It has been a fortunate occurrence that, in the past, when countries are suffering from great and debilitating events that a great leader appears on the scene. Lincoln appeared, saved the Union, and signed the Emancipation Proclamation; FDR and Winston Churchill appeared in WWII to counteract the madness of Adolf Hitler, and Benito Mussolini. Queen Elizabeth found he Admirals to defeat the Spanish Armada, and the Bible reminds us that Moses led his people out of Egypt. Now, Obama has arrived to somehow lead us out our financial morass, and the two wars we are engaged in; give us the jobs and the health care that we need, and provide us with the energy we need without dependence on foreign oil.

Obama's election has been the most important since Lincoln. I'm not claiming that Obama is a saviour, but a man smart enough--if he lasts eight years in the White House--to accomplish the things that he has promised and what we need. It will remain for many years in the future to understand the meaning of the historic election we just witnessed. I know the pundits on the TV, the newspapers, magazines, and the internet are having a marvelous time with all of these questions, but none of them will come up with the right answers until they learn what Obama is doing with his power, and now he is the most powerful man on earth. May he use this power to get this country moving in the right direction. And what is the right direction? If it happens, we'll know it.

Signature Days

Into every one's life come signature days which etch themselves into the mind and soul of those who experience them so that they are never forgotten. These days make a difference in the entire world and become a part of history that will last forever. October 29, 1929 was one of those days when the stock market plunged into oblivion and created The Great Depression. The United States and the world economies did not recover from that disaster for ten years until WWII began. That event, that signature day, certainly had a dire affect on my own life. Granted I was only five years old and I did believe there was a Santa Claus. But when my sister and I hung our stockings out on our little fireplace, the next morning found only oranges in them. It was then I began to realize that we were very poor. I looked around at our circumstances, our crowded bungalow, the clothing we wore, the food that appeared on out table, my handicapped father, and jobless mother and with my empty stocking in hand, wept for our lot--not for me so much, but for my parents who could not afford to buy a toy for my sister and me.

The second signature day in my life occurred on December 7, 1941 when the Japanese navy bombed Pearl Harbor. At the time, I was listening to a football game on the radio when the announcer broke in with the news. His report was rather sketchy--hardly comparing with the skill of the news media these days. I was 17 at the time, and hardly aware of a place called Pearl Harbor until I had a chance to hear the late news and read my newspaper on Monday morning. It was not long after that when Franklin Roosevelt declared war on Japan. I couldn't understand how the bombing could happen. Wasn't anyone on the radar? Couldn't a Japanese fleet and aircraft of the size involved be detected in adequate time to defend the ships we had berthed at the Harbor? And what did the Japanese hope to gain from what they achieved that day? I believed it to be an impossibility for them to invade the United States. So, the event was a puzzle to me. But that day had an effect on my life--I voluntarily joined the military--the United States Navy. On June 6, 1944, known forever as DDay, the greatest invasion in world wars took place. And the rest is history.

Two other signature days occurred in my own life after WWII. One was on August 28, 1963 when I took time off from school to go on the Washington March and heard Martin Luther King make one of the greatest speeches in American History. Before that, I was hopelessly and helplessly against the inequalities I saw for blacks in America. It would be 45 years before Rev. King's dream would come to fruition with the election of a black president of the United States--an unthinkable and amazing event surpassing even the first time election of an Irish Catholic president a few months later than the March when JFK defeated Richard Nixon. Certainly 9/11 was a signature day. I woke to the TV when I saw replays of the planes charging into two magnificent buildings. When I saw them collapsing it was beyond belief. Over 3000 people died in that project of terrorism, and it changed our lives in countless ways.

But one of the greatest of my signature days happened yesterday when Barack Obama became the next President elect of the United States. While he was making his historic speech in Chicago's Grant Park, you could see the look on the faces of some of the people who were there. Many were shedding tears of joy, including Jesse Jackson and Oprah. Others were looking at Obama who had them mesmerized with his presence and his speech. Now, it remains to be seen what Obama can do to put this country back on the right road. It will take great skill and leadership to accomplish all the needs that we have, and if he succeeds in saving the real America, he will become a legend as a truly great president.

A Jewish Marine--female at that!

While surfing the net looking for articles about celebrity Jewish marines I came across the following quite by accident and thought as a blog, why not?


Editors Note: The following is an excerpt from Howard Leavtt’s Semper Chai , an amazing book that profiles numerous Jewish Marines through many generations. Look for Howard’s new book, OZ - Chronicles of Courage, which talks a good deal about Jewish participation in Iraq and Afghanistan. Since this book was published, of course, Robin has retired and busies herself as a "gentlewoman farmer" on her ranch in Montana.

A true hero and a remarkable woman in America today, Lieutenant Colonel Robin Higgins, USMC (ret.), nee Ross, was born in the Bronx in 1950. She spent her early days on Long Island and obtained two degrees in English, a bachelor’s from State University of New York at Oneonta and a master’s from Long Island University. After studying for a time at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, she returned to New York in May 1970 and completed college with a 4.0 average. Following her graduate studies, she taught high-school English on Long Island. At her father’s suggestion to go into the military, Higgins went to a local Marine Corps recruiting office and was accepted into OCS at Quantico. She was commissioned a second lieutenant and performed duties in communications and in military police at Quantico.
On December 23, 1977, she married Captain William R. (Rich) Higgins, USMC. The turning point and perhaps the most significant event of her life was the calamity that befell her husband, thrusting her name and image into national, if not international, attention. In 1988, while on duty as a lieutenant colonel and leader of a UN observer team in Lebanon, her husband was taken captive by Hezbollah terrorists and later murdered. Since “the Hezbollah were fanatically committed to the destruction of the Jewish state, during the period of his captivity, she “had to keep my Jewishness hidden. Ironically, it was that very Jewishness that helped me survive.”
She continued to perform her duties as a Marine officer during this period, all the while suffering the numbing terror and loneliness of a hostage’s wife. She made diligent efforts to get information about her husband and to obtain his release, enduring extreme frustration and uncertainty. She learned of her husband’s murder on July 29, 1989. Rich Higgins was promoted to colonel while in captivity.
On October 4, 1997, Robin Higgins christened the guided-missile destroyer USS Higgins (DDG-76), named for her husband. During 41st President George Bush’s administration, she was appointed to the U.S. Department of Labor, where she served as deputy assistant secretary and then acting assistant secretary for Veterans’ Employment and Training. While a senior executive at the Department of Labor, Lieutenant Colonel Higgins was an adviser to the Department of Veterans’ Affairs Advisory Committee on Women Veterans and a commissioner on the Department of Defense’s Defense Conversion Commission.
Moving to Florida after leaving the military, she served as director of public affairs for Florida’s state comptroller, and then spent a year consulting, public speaking, and writing on a variety of topics, including media relations, public affairs, and veterans’ advocacy. In January, Governor Jeb Bush appointed Robin Higgins executive director of the Florida Department of Veterans’ Affairs- the first Jewish woman to hold that job in Florida. As the Governor’s chief advisor on veterans’ issues, she was responsible for advocacy programs for the state’s 1.7 million veterans. Then in early 2001, she was nominated by 43rd president George W. Bush to serve as the Under Secretary for Memorial Affairs at the U.S. Department of Veterans’ Affairs. Confirmed by the U.S. Senate in May 2001, she is responsible for numerous burial benefits for the nation’s veterans and oversees the National Cemetery Administration. She became the senior Jewish person ever to serve in the Department of Veterans’ Affairs and the senior Jewish woman in the Administration.
Lieutenant Colonel Higgins is the recipient of numerous awards, including the Marine Corps League’s Dickey Chapelle Award for outstanding service to Marines, the American Legion Auxiliary’s Public Spirit Award for outstanding service to country, and the American Academy of Physician Assistants Veterans Caucus Award for outstanding service to veterans.
She is a member of Disabled American Veterans, the Retired Officers’ Association, the Jewish War Veterans, Gold Star Wives, AMVETS, and the Marine Corps League. Higgins has testified before Congress; appeared on numerous morning and evening news programs; and has had many letters, articles, and opinion pieces published in major publications, all in addition to her book, PATRIOT DREAMS: The Murder of Colonel Rich Higgins
Posted by Howard Leavitt in Great Stories • Email this story