Freedom & Liberty for All. Yeah. Right.

On August 28, 1963 I rode the train to join the "March on Washington" and to hear Martin Luther King's, "I've Got a Dream" speech; although there was no name to this speech, of course, until after it was given. However, it was a week or two before schools opened again and I was a staunch supporter of civil rights, so I went...by myself. The experience was an other worldly one and led me to understand the difference between "freedom" and "liberty". In 1864, Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation abandoned slavery in this nation and gave all slaves their liberty...but not their freedom. They were not free to walk on the same side of the street as whites, they were not free to sit in the front of buses, they were not free to drink from the same water fountains as whites, they were not free to use the same rest rooms as whites, they were not free to get into the college of their choice, they were not free to get decent, well-paying employment, they were not free to attend the same schools as white children, not free to run for political office--especially the Presidency, and more recently, not free to eat at Wendy's...and I could go on and on. Surely, slaves were liberated--they had their liberty, but not their freedom. But Dr. King dreamed that someday they would, indeed, be free. As it turned out, sadly I was absolutely the only teacher in my school district who was sufficiently motivated to join that movement on that day. And now, his dream is becoming a reality. We have a black man running for President of the United States. Can that be possible? In America? Certainly for the most part a racist nation?

I've heard some vicious comments about Barack Obama and I've received some scurrilous emails regarding his views on all sorts of issues, but I don't pay any attention to anything anyone says, or to anything anyone writes. I don't trust these self-proclaimed pundits, nor can I guess where they get their information. I will, however, pay attention to what Obama has to say, himself, in these days before the November election. I want to hear what he believes from his own lips, not from some prejudicial gossip or rumors. As for John McCain, I cannot vote for a 73 year old man who was a POW for several years. And I have no doubt that he still suffers from PTSD--because I am very familiar with the vagaries of that result from war injuries...whether physical or mental. Of the two, I believe Barack Obama, young and vigorous, and full of fresh ideas to be the best hope for this country. You may disapprove of my obstinate stand on this issue, but I really don't care what you think...this is my blog, and these are my opinions. If you have a different opinion, I don't have to respect it! You know the wimpy statement you often hear, "I don't agree with you, but I respect your opinion."

If you don't agree with someone, then you really don't respect their opinion. Say so! Something like, "Hey...I respect your right to an opinion, but you're full of hot air!" It'll make you feel better, not bitter.

"I am amazed, methinks, and lose my way among the thorns and dangers of this world." (King John)

I've often wondered why people write wills and in those wills they stipulate how they are dividing money among children or grandchildren. That is, besides all the other chatchkas a person has to leave after a lifetime of collecting. Why wait till you're in your grave before you dole out the cash (if there's any left) to the kids? I would think a person would like to be around to hear the squeals of delight and the appreciation one might or might not experience. You see the light? If you get no signs of appreciation, then when you write the will, don't leave them a blessed thing, except perhaps the bill for the funeral or the price of the police escort to the cemetery.

Before you write a will, you look around the house and see all the articles that sit on the shelves or decorate the walls. You check out your clothing closet and chest of drawers, and books, and Lladros and Swarovskies, and WWII medals, and you think you could never decide who's going to get what. The problem doubles when you are in a second marriage, and the wife also has her own children and grandchildren. How will they fit in to these wills? Whose money is in the bank, and will it be enough for the survivor to live on once the pensions and compensations disappear? All this is designed to give one a big headache, and motivation to run to the drug store for Tylenols, Advils, and Xanaxes. You do know that once both of you die, the apartment passes on to the children who can either "time share" it or sell it and split the money. Hopefully that doesn't happen very soon because the housing market is way down, and homes are losing their value.

This afternoon I got a call from Gloria Slobin asking me to take a part she has for me in the show she is writing. After My Fair Lady I decided that I was finished as a performer, because I was losing the mobility required to move around the stage. Not only that, but I was not looking forward to 9 A.M rehearsals any longer. Now, I certainly was not being a prima donna waiting for someone to ask me to be in a show, so Gloria's call was a huge surprise to me. When I told her I'd rather not do any more shows, she seemed terribly disappointed, and that bothered me. I hate to say no to her and her husband, Bob Slobin because they are such fine people...and friends. So, I suggested that she try to find some new talent for that part, and Gloria said she wanted some "old" talent. We departed the call with nothing resolved. However, I am resolved to "will" some "inheritance" to my kids before I die...but not before Feb. 10, 2010.

"He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends." (AYLI)

Wonder of wonders! Unexpectedly today--primarily because I never got one before--I received my first ever royalty check for the sale of my books from my publisher, LULU!! I won't deny that it was a truly great feeling. I didn't know whether or not to laugh or cry; so since I didn't know, I didn't do either. I would ordinarily frame the check, but I simply can't afford to do that. Besides, it would be a little too self-serving, don't you think? I now have moved up Lulu's book sale list to 16,000 something. Well it's a lot better than being down to 25, 000. I'm not Ernest Hemingway, you know. And speaking of Hemingway, Rhoda and I are planning a drive to Key West toward the end of this month--depending on the weather of course. Both of us have been to Key West before. I was there in 1942 and we both were there on excursions off our cruise ships. However, neither of us has ever taken the drive down there, and it should be a lot of fun--Atlantic Ocean on one side; Gulf of Mexico on the other. Although Key West is not the same as Maine where you can have lobster, there are stone crabs and conch soup--and coconuts.

Rhoda and I have thankfully recovered from our recent illnesses--she with pneumonia, and I with Restroom Runs. Not fully recovered, mind you, but about 90%. We do need a little vacation time. Maybe I'll even get my tattoo refurbished down there--although a fresh tattoo on an old arm might not look so good. Speaking of lobsters, Rhoda and several women from our building have gone out tonight to La Luna for dinner--buy one lobster, get one free. Trust women to find a bargain. So where does that leave me? It leaves me trying to decide what I'm going to do for dinner. Perhaps some spaghetti and butter or to Flakowitz for cheese blintzes--or to Massimo's for lasagna. Why not all three! Robin and all my other kids are currently on a cruise through the waters of Eastern Canada and she just sent a picture of them all sitting at a table having their desserts--baked Alaska and strawberry frostees. Well, so I'm alone. I'm good company. And besides, I can cash my royalty check. Wish someone was around to take my picture.

VJ DAY! REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR!

Today is a famous day in history; the war with Japan ended on August 14, 1945. It's commonly known as VJ Day, but in these days it's mostly unknown. Japan doesn't care for the term; they'd prefer if we called it "Victory in Asia." Of course, they didn't want any more A-Bombs destroying their cities and killing their citizens. It was a terrible thing, but everyone has to remember Pearl Harbor. What goes around, comes around; but I suppose the Japanese would not understand that idiom. Naturally, I was one happy airman; I had no desire to continue flying any more combat missions over Japan. I did not want to kill any more human beings; I did not start out from the beginning wanting to kill anybody. When I joined the Navy, I thought I would become a clerk to take advantage of my typing and stenography skills. Strangely, it didn't turn out the way I expected. As Burns would say, the best laid plans of mice and men often go wrong. I could care less about the mice, but as a man, my plan to become a "Yeoman" did not work out. Instead of tapping keys on a typewriter, I learned to pull a trigger. There is a humongous gap between those two activities! The celebrations in the country were deliriously ubiquitous--and wet; my crew members and I drove to Vancouver and drank whatever the bars served up. The only other time I can remember getting "seven sheets to the wind" (as Rhoda would say) was in Key West when somehow or other I wound up with a tattoo on my arm. I was discharged three months later, and home was a welcomed sight. WWII was over.

Well, skipping over a couple of painful civilian years ( you can read about them in my book), I found myself married and by 1952 there were four little ones who made us into parents and we raised them unto the present day when all four of them are going on a cruise through eastern Canada together. Fortunately, my kids like each other. I've heard of other families where the children do not get along for some reason or another; and that's not a happy situation for parents. And now, 63 years later the problem is fighting a "war" to stay young while, unfortunately, the vagaries of growing old are difficult adversaries. The armories of MDs, medications, and scooters are the weapons of the day, but lo, they are defeatable. And the end of this war does not have a name like "VJ Day".

"Is not the truth the truth?" (Henry IV)

My son, Joel, and my daughter-in-law, Barbara came for a visit this weekend and I have to admit they were a delight to have around. Joel especially was a huge asset for peace in our family when he accompanied us to buy a laptop computer for Rhoda so we wouldn't have to battle for time on the only one we have. Not only that, but he spent a few hours tutoring her on how to use it...it's not an easy learn, but Rhoda has a B.A. degree from American University so it shouldn't be a large problem. Although she might do better if she went to Harvard or Columbia. We had a lot of fun with the "kids" and discussions of memorable moments in our lives. Joel and I also had some contentious, but spirited philosophical dialogs about the relationships between knowledge, fact, and truth. Actually, no one wins these dialogs and the beauty of them is that each disputant comes away from them with the unassailable belief that his view is the "right" one. But as Socrates would say, "Define 'right'". These two met on a plane on its way to Australia where both had secured employment as teachers. During their married years they provided me with two fine grandchildren, Hannah, 23, and Adam, 25---both college graduates. In the 26 years we have lived here in Florida they have not visited very often, but when they do come, we enjoy them thoroughly.

After the "Dumpster Affair" I developed a huge black and blue welt on my left leg; not only that but I also got sick with a virus called "Rest Room Run". At least that's what I call it because I don't know how to spell dia-rear. I call it Rest Room Run because when the urge creeps up, if you don't run to the rest room, you'll have a large problem. Anyway, my dear wife gave up her Canasta game today in order to see that I did what I have to do to get rid of that particular virus, before being attacked by another one. You see, Norton or McAfee cannot help.

"The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices make instruments to plague us." (King Lear)

Joel and Barbara, my son and daughter-in-law, arrived here on Saturday evening for a two day visit, and this morning they left for Marco Island where JR has a Conference connected with his hopefully gainful employment. Joel said that the best Chinese buffet he ever went to was one we marched around in last time he was here. So that's where we took them for dinner. Afterward we went to Best Buy for a laptop because Rhoda and I battle each other for computer time. We came home and plugged the battery charger in the wall and the laptop did not charge. NOTHING WORKS! (See blog of Aug.6) We brought the laggard laptop back to the store on Sunday and the geek said he never, ever had a problem with a laptop charger cord. Yeah. Right. Then he provided us with a new charger cord. Well, at any rate, JR spent a good part of the day and evening of this "vacation" time lessoning RH on the vagaries of laptop computers. I think she'll be able to handle it. I HOPE she'll be able to handle it. You see, nothing works. For example, this morning after the visitors were on their way, Rho decided to go to the supermarket to pick up a few items we needed in the house. On the way out the door she had a small bag of garbage in one hand and a small blue wallet-size bag with her shopping list and coupons in the other. A few microseconds later she flew into the house and told me the story: she threw her coupons and shopping list into the dumpster and kept the bag of garbage which of course, Publix would not accept as a coupon. You see, NOTHING WORKS. And that's not the end of the story. I told her we'd take a couple of small ladders we had in the house, I'd climb into the dumpster, Walter Raleigh-like, retrieve her blue bag and leave the real bag of garbage where it belongs. Then climb out for my just reward. So I climbed into the dumpster, scooped up her coupon bag and then attempted to climb out of the garbage dump. Only problem was that I could only get one leg over the top of the dumpster trying to get out, and I simply could not get the other leg over the top. for my just reward. So I farted a few times, which is intestinal gas produced by bacterial action on waste matter in the intestines and composed primarily of hydrogen sulfide and varying amounts of methane. And after several of these expulsions I sort of jet propelled myself out of the dumpster with hardly any breath left at all and blood on my arms and leg from scratches I endured that required bandages sufficient enough to cover a small horse. It's the truth--nothing works. I will never jump into garbage again.

"And do as adversaries do in law, Strive mightily but eat and drink as friends." (Taming of the Shrew)

Just what is the matter with you readers out there? Are you lazy, or what? For my last few blogs, I have dealt with some controversial issues for which I have made some outrageous and self-aggrandizing statements and, accordingly, Islam most likely will shortly visit a "fatwah" on me. Have I gotten even one comment about those vicious anti-Aristotelian disgracefully and grossly offensive atrocious, heinous, scandalous and shocking opinions?
No, not one! And this day marks the 1st Anniversary of my Blogmenting. Since August 8, 2007 Baron has written 243 blogs out of which two books have already been published. However, I believe I have lost my readership...or (and this would be terrible)...everyone agrees with me. Even my "bete noir" MH? Ah, he's probably too busy making money day trading on his computer to keep annoying me with his inane, asinine, fatuitous, jejune, puerile, shallow, vacuous comments.

I believe I mentioned that I received an invitation to the 50th Reunion of North Shore High School's first graduating class in 1958. Just think--I was 24. If only I knew something--anything-- back then. I am very disappointed that I will be unable to attend that function in the Swan Club at Glen Head, NY. However, I did write a letter which I hope will be read to the class members who will attend--most of them over 6o by now! I am pasting that letter right here so it will not be lost to posterity. It will be found in Vol.III of "Pater Noster in Condoland".

Dear North Shore HS Class of 1958:

I am so terribly sorry that I am unable to be with you to celebrate this beautiful event. Just think…50 years! That’s definitely an accomplishment, and I suspect that most of you are in your 6os and have worked hard at your chosen professions and have raised beautiful families. And do I ever remember you guys! After all, I spent four years with you, and you have definitely left an indelible mark on my psyche. Naturally, time has run its course on me as well, and though I cannot recall all your names, I do remember Betsy Krumrine, Allyson Rose, John Sege (those two and Mrs. Comfort combined to write the school’s alma mater). Then there was Carole Schutzman, Henry Goldman who was given a free train ride to Glen Head from Washington D.C. one year, Al Weyhretter, Peggy Gremelsbacker, shy Dennis Jamieson, Georgie Coyle, Peggy Roberts…red of hair, and Alex Terentiev, just to name a few…

I have led a good life since your graduation. I stayed at North Shore until 1982 when I retired and moved to Florida. Prior to that, I had taken a sabbatical leave, bought an Around-the-World airline ticket from SAS and traveled around the world for a year. When I returned, I married Rhoda after a divorce from my first wife. Rhoda and I just celebrated our 25th Anniversary. I raised four children who also graduated from North Shore. Robin, my eldest daughter retired from the US Marine Corps as a Lt. Colonel. Her husband, Richard Higgins, was a Marine Corps Colonel who was captured by the Hezbollah in Lebanon in 1988 and was murdered by them. There is now a guided missile destroyer with his name on it, the USS Higgins. We are proud of that. My other three children also are now leading distinguished careers and you can read all about them and my whole life in my book, “MEMOIRS of a TAIL GUNNER”. Just go to Google, type in “Norman Ross, ‘Memoirs.’”

I guess you never knew I flew 60 combat missions in WWII and was awarded 2 Distinguished Flying Crosses and 11 Air Medals. But I’m happy to apprise you of that right now that I am 84 years old. I can’t get around very well, anymore. Difficult walking, but I do have a scooter. If I could scoot to the Swan Club from Florida I would. I can think of no greater pleasure that I could have than to reacquaint myself with the wonderful class of 1958.

With fondest love,
Dr. Norman Ross

Tonite we are going to a Temple in Palm Beach Gardens to hear my cousin, Michelle, sing. She is an operatic singer, and she is probably acting as Cantor for the Friday night services. Actually, Michelle is my second cousin, and she is extremely talented. A year ago she became a mother, and that takes talent.