SECRET REVEALED: How to cheat time

I stole an hour-and-a-half once and it was perfectly legal.

When the SST Concord was flying, before that horrendous crash that stopped time, I flew the Air France Concord from Paris to New York. I left Charles de Gauille Airport at noon, arrived JFK at 10:30... a full 90 minutes before I left! If I never go east again, that time is mine FOREVER!

The story behind that flight is a good one and I'll share it in my next post. This one however, is about time's unrelenting pace, or as comedian Groucho Marx put it, "Time flies like an arrow, fruit flies like a banana."

If you google 'death clock,' you will be taken to a page that, with the input of certain personal data, will tell you when you are likely to die. How unfun is that? What it will show however, is how fast time gets away from us. Mortality has its way.

So we usually come to a resolution like, "It's not how long you live but how well you live." Or, "There's only one thing more precious than our time and that's who we spend it on." Or. "You will never know the value of a moment until it  becomes a memory." Oh, there are more... lots more.

So I was taken by a letter, embodied in a newspaper ad by Paper and Packaging, an organization speaking for the paper producers of America. The Letter of Peace as it was called, was from a sibling of a 16-year-old brother who killed himself after being mercilessly bullied on-line. It concluded:

"The only way to end suffering in this nation, whether it be from bullying or discrimination, is not to highlight differences between groups of people but to focus on the importance of accountability and character. This holiday season, show kindness to strangers.  Share your light with others whose light might not be shining so bright. Only together can we be the beacon of hope this world needs. Peace, Cliff."

Please, if you want to see more of what makes us humanly rich, visit HowLifeUnfolds.com/LettersOfPeace . It's a beautiful page. You won't be sorry.

Maybe Dr. Seuss says it in a way even a child can understand... or maybe only a child can understand. Do we all get cynical as we age or is it just the other person?

"To the world you may be one person but to one person, you may be the world." 

"Life is too hort to wake up in the morning with regrets. So love the people who treat you right, forgive the ones who don't and believe that everything happens for a reason. If you get a chance, take it, if it changes your life, let it. Nobody said it would be easy, they just promised it would be worth it."

"Unless someone like you cares an awful lot, nothing is going to get better, its not."

So it all comes down to how late is it before it's too late to make a difference?

 After all, 'Tis the season... "
Time's Awasten'
 


 






 

Here beginneth the chronicle of those memorable circumstances of the year 1620...

Thanksgiving is over... it lasts but a day, though if you've never read this chronicle of that journey and the anguish that prevailed, then read it now and imagine what it must have been like 400 years ago. This is what oppressed people do to seek freedom of religion.

Here beginneth the chronicle of those memorable circumstances of the year 1620, as recorded by Nathanial Morton, keeper of the records of Plymouth Colony, based on the account of William Bradford, sometime governor thereof:

So they left that goodly and pleasant city of Leyden, which had been their resting-place for above eleven years, but they knew that they were pilgrims and strangers here below, and looked not much on these things, but lifted up their eyes to Heaven, their dearest country, where God hath prepared for them a city (Heb. XI, 16), and therein quieted their spirits.

When they came to Delfs-Haven they found the ship and all things ready, and such of their friends as could not come with them followed after them, and sundry came from Amsterdam to see them shipt, and to take their leaves of them. One night was spent with little sleep with the most, but with friendly entertainment and Christian discourse, and other real expressions of true Christian love.

The next day they went on board, and their friends with them, where truly doleful was the sight of that sad and mournful parting, to hear what sighs and sobs and prayers did sound amongst them; what tears did gush from every eye, and pithy speeches pierced each other’s heart, that sundry of the Dutch strangers that stood on the Key as spectators could not refrain from tears. But the tide (which stays for no man) calling them away, that were thus loath to depart, their Reverend Pastor, falling down on his knees, and they all with him, with watery cheeks commended them with the most fervent prayers unto the Lord and His blessing; and then with mutual embraces and many tears they took their leaves one of another, which proved to be the last leave to many of them.

Being now passed the vast ocean, and a sea of troubles before them in expectations, they had now no friends to welcome them, no inns to entertain or refresh them, no houses, or much less towns, to repair unto to seek for succour; and for the season it was winter, and they that know the winters of the country know them to be sharp and violent, subject to cruel and fierce storms, dangerous to travel to known places, much more to search unknown coasts.

Besides, what could they see but a hideous and desolate wilderness, full of wilde beasts and wilde men? and what multitudes of them there were, they then knew not: for which way soever they turned their eyes (save upward to Heaven) they could have but little solace or content in respect of any outward object; for summer being ended, all things stand in appearance with a weatherbeaten face, and the whole country, full of woods and thickets, represented a wild and savage hew.

If they looked behind them, there was a mighty ocean which they had passed, and was now as a main bar or gulph to separate them from all the civil parts of the world.

 


The May- flower was just over 30 yards in length on which 102 Pilgrims risked their lives and their mortal souls to find religious freedom as our first immigrants.

The Wall Street Journal has published this passage as its lead editorial a number of years as a stark  reminder of what oppressed people have done to remain free. We see it today in tragic photos of drown children and adults giving their all in search for freedom from oppression.

Do we remain the beacon of freedom to an oppressed world? Does our Statue of Liberty still represent us? Time will tell.


  

Marching Bands Rule! And for 20 good reasons. (Read to the coda)

Granddaughter Jaci of Panther Creek on the mellophone

Ladies and Gentle-men... The Panther Creek Marching Band!

You rarely see marching bands these days. But believe me, they are there. Dollars talk and television follows the revenue. So if you only watch football on television, you will never see another marching band at football half-time. If you watch high school and college football, then you know what I'm talking about here.

Marching bands and music programs in school are so Number One in what they do for the kids and those watching.

If you have ever been involved in the process, you have to love marching bands. Nothing teaches teamwork and togetherness more than band... and nothing does it better than marching band, especially at the high school level. For two years I was Band Booster (money raiser) President at a smallish high school with a very dedicated and successful band program and it was an emotional high as I saw what it did for the kids... and what it did for me.

Half of my children and most of those beloved grand kids who are old enough are involved musically and love the experience for every right reason. For some though, it isn't their cup of tea. But that's the way it works.

Band at the high school level is richer than any sport because all are invited and the kids take the experience and skills with them forever if they choose. They are either together or not involved. It's all or nothing.

For marching bands, the kids work hard at week-long band camp before the start of school and often early morning and late evening practices in the fall to sharpen their field routine, which is some collaboration of talent and amazement. Then, after marching season, which is my highlight, concert season fills out the year.

One year long ago our high school went from Central Illinois to Winnipeg, Canada to participate in an international band competition. I was the trip organizer. We had a convoy of four buses and a large truck with students, parents and equipment, stopping first night in Minneapolis to play on the field for a Minnesota Twins baseball game. (Added bonus: Our kids got 6 foul fly balls.) Then we played a downtown noontime concert.

Me, left with the tympani and one-foot of water

Next night, we traveled west for another local band competition in Minnesota before continuing to Winnipeg. There, we performed before a 50,000 crowd at a Winnipeg Blue Bombers Canadian Football League game, delayed by a gigantic thunderstorm. We performed under the bleachers standing in foot-water to an avid crowd avoiding being killed by lightning. You see our our next day front page newspaper story of that event here. What an experience for all of us.

Then, we went on to win the Grand Championship of the festival as the best band in the land. Alexander (of Alexander's Rag Time Band) would be proud. We were welcomed home with a parade victory lap through the city. It was almost like the Cubs winning the World Series... maybe more for the experience.

Oh, band was not without its sad down side. Only in later years did I learn it was not for my young son. He confessed that he never really played his trumpet in the grade school parades... just went through the motions... and me with hundreds of pictures. With that transgression he never would have been able to run for President... but he is just so great nonetheless.

I recently had the opportunity to see the Panther Creek Marching Band practice for their trip to an Indianapolis Band Festival this past month. It brought back rich memories.

Band members have a special bond. A great band is more than just some people working together. It's like a highly specialized army unit, or a winning sports team. A unique combination of elements that becomes stronger together than apart. Steven Van Zandt 

 The National Association for Music Education has it right. From a published article in Bachelors Degree magazine. (Thank you NAME):


Nearly everyone enjoys music, whether by listening to it, singing, or playing an instrument. But despite this almost universal interest, many schools are having to do away with their music education programs. This is a mistake, with schools losing not only an enjoyable subject, but a subject that can enrich students’ lives and education. Read on to learn why music education is so important, and how it offers benefits even beyond itself.

1. Musical training helps develop language and reasoning: Students who have early musical training will develop the areas of the brain related to language and reasoning. The left side of the brain is better developed with music, and songs can help imprint information on young minds.

2. A mastery of memorization: Even when performing with sheet music, student musicians are constantly using their memory to perform. The skill of memorization can serve students well in education and beyond.

3. Students learn to improve their work: Learning music promotes craftsmanship, and students learn to want to create good work instead of mediocre work. This desire can be applied to all subjects of study.

4. Increased coordination: Students who practice with musical instruments can improve their hand-eye coordination. Just like playing sports, children can develop motor skills when playing music.

5. A sense of achievement: Learning to play pieces of music on a new instrument can be a challenging, but achievable goal. Students who master even the smallest goal in music will be able to feel proud of their achievement.

6. Kids stay engaged in school: An enjoyable subject like music can keep kids interested and engaged in school. Student musicians are likely to stay in school to achieve in other subjects.

7. Success in society: Music is the fabric of our society, and music can shape abilities and character. Students in band or orchestra are less likely to abuse substances over their lifetime. Musical education can greatly contribute to children’s intellectual development as well.

8. Emotional development: Students of music can be more emotionally developed, with empathy towards other cultures They also tend to have higher self esteem and are better at coping with anxiety.

9. Students learn pattern recognition: Children can develop their math and pattern-recognition skills with the help of musical education. Playing music offers repetition in a fun format.

10. Better SAT scores: Students who have experience with music performance or appreciation score higher on the SAT. One report indicates 63 points higher on verbal and 44 points higher on math for students in music appreciation courses.

11. Fine-tuned auditory skills: Musicians can better detect meaningful, information-bearing elements in sounds, like the emotional meaning in a baby’s cry. Students who practice music can have better auditory attention, and pick out predictable patterns from surrounding noise.

12. Music builds imagination and intellectual curiosity: Introducing music in the early childhood years can help foster a positive attitude toward learning and curiosity. Artistic education develops the whole brain and develops a child’s imagination.

13. Music can be relaxing: Students can fight stress by learning to play music. Soothing music is especially helpful in helping kids relax.

14. Musical instruments can teach discipline: Kids who learn to play an instrument can learn a valuable lesson in discipline. They will have to set time aside to practice and rise to the challenge of learning with discipline to master playing their instrument.

15. Preparation for the creative economy: Investing in creative education can prepare students for the 21st century workforce. The new economy has created more artistic careers, and these jobs may grow faster than others in the future.

16. Development in creative thinking: Kids who study the arts can learn to think creatively. This kind of education can help them solve problems by thinking outside the box and realizing that there may be more than one right answer.

17. Music can develop spatial intelligence: Students who study music can improve the development of spatial intelligence, which allows them to perceive the world accurately and form mental pictures. Spatial intelligence is helpful for advanced mathematics and more.

18. Kids can learn teamwork: Many musical education programs require teamwork as part of a band or orchestra. In these groups, students will learn how to work together and build camaraderie.

19. Responsible risk-taking: Performing a musical piece can bring fear and anxiety. Doing so teaches kids how to take risks and deal with fear, which will help them become successful and reach their potential.

20. Better self-confidence: With encouragement from teachers and parents, students playing a musical instrument can build pride and confidence. Musical education is also likely to develop better communication for students.

PLAY IT BACKWARD: A lesson for the times

"Playing it Forward" is a humankind practice of doing something nice for the sake of doing something nice... just because. It could be something like paying the toll of the car behind you or digging for 25 cents when the stranger in front hasn't the right change, buying the lunch for an elderly couple in a restaurant, a military family, etc. and leaving before they even know what you did. But sometimes, 'Playing it Backward' teaches a richer lesson.

A young mother with two kids in the car pulled into a McDonald's drive thru and noticed another like herself with kids in the car behind her. In her rear view mirror she observed the mother behind pointing to her "I'm with Hillary" bumper sticker from the past political campaign. She then saw mom and kids laughing and pointing at her car.

Feeling somewhat raw, she did the only thing left in her bag of options... she paid for her meal and the meal of those in the car behind and drove on without a whimper or second thought.

Now really, I am not trying to be political, because this scenario could have played out in an opposite way somewhere. But the point is, sometimes when given a chance to take the high road, TAKE IT and make the world just a few persons better.

Many years ago sister was driving to a BIG WAREHOUSE SALE  (her thing) in a warehouse-type area in San Francisco and while waiting at a red light, a young, scary-looking individual in a beat-up car stopped beside her in the other lane. Feeling uneasy, she very casually reached over her lap and hit the 'lock' button on her arm rest. CLICK! All the locks depressed making that funny little noise.

The scary-looking young man in his car looked at her and smiled, then with a flourish of movement, he theatrically reached across his body and depressed his lock. They both laughed as they waited for the light to change. Here's this lesson,  beautifully told forward and backward.

You gotta say, that was a "Playing it Backward" kind of moment too, when action and reaction happen with full awareness.

In a world when there is far too much gnashing of teeth and seething anger, there is both a great and subtle need for a kinder, better way. This political campaign lasted 600 days--really! Twenty months--of the worst-of-us calling the other worst-of us-every name in the book. We weren't put on this earth to hate one another, but sometimes, you would have a hard time proving it.

This happened to me at a fast food restaurant not too long ago. I was behind a man ordering breakfast for his family. The final tally was more than he had in his pocket, he told the person behind the counter. "I'll be right back" he said.  "I left my wallet in the car."

I watched as he ran out the door, got into his older car with wife and kids and drove away, obviously not having the money to spend. The bag of food still sitting on the counter was sad testimony to a need unfilled, an opportunity missed.

I felt really bad when I recognized what had happened too late, and it was a blown chance to positively effect a better outcome. But those moments are there sometimes. Pay attention and have empathy for those who need it.

Rafa

At an outlet mall last week with my daughter and her family, I watched as she bought 25 inexpensive high-bouncing rubber balls in a variety of colors and designs. She put them all in a cloth bag with handles and gave them to my 6-year-old grandson. He spent the afternoon handing them out to any child near his age that passed us by. It was win-win in the act of kindness department and a good teaching moment. This has become a tradition with them... just a nice thing to do that rewards all involved.

It's sometimes not easy to recognize an opportunity to play it forward or backward or even whatever we call it,  but it's never a bad idea to always be ready to be kind and maybe make someone's day. Sometimes just a smile or friendly word or innocent action carries more significance that we can see.

I do know we individually only have control of one person on this earth... and that person is you. Do something special for at least one person.

But can't we all try more? We really need this.

AN OPEN LETTER to Me and Trump: Dear You...

In the end, that's what this election is about. 

Do we participate in a politics of cynicism

 or a politics of hope?  

Barack Obama

Dear Jerry,

All your life you have been an optimist... a Pollyanna kind of person, and you are happy about that. (What else would an optimist say?) But I have noticed Jerry, that a playful touch of cynicism has grown to an unhealthy frequency so that it sometimes colors your outlook. You even use it as a tease in your Bio beside this blog. (I'll change that after this post.)

This election and it's mere 600 day run-up is a splash of cold water in your face, Jerry. Optimism and cynicism don't belong in the same sentence (Oops.)


You chose hope, which was forced upon you in this everlasting political exercise that didn't go well, but hope, nonetheless. It's more than politics though... it's a sane, brighter, richer lifestyle. There is nothing positive about cynicism. It is a pervasive and dangerous way to think.

Optimism is hope and hope is healthy. One can't live as a cynic but one can certainly die as one.

Though you, Jerry, voted for Hillary because you thought she was THE person and better choice in a world so filled with strife and uncertainty, You now pray to be proven wrong. (FYI: Jerry, you call yourself an independent with strong democratic leanings--you voted for 12 candidates on the ballot, 9 democrats and 3 republicans, and only saw one of each elected.)

Being a lifelong Cub fan, you are very used to being disappointed, but even Cub fans have their day, right? However, you don't have another 108 years.

So GO big Donald! (You just can't say huuuge, can you Jerry?) You are my President-elect and while you are not in my "like" category yet... or perhaps ever, I know you will do all you can to be a good president for all the people. You said so yourself... and I do believe that.

I respect your office, but you still must earn my respect. I want that to happen. Our perspectives may always differ but if your intent is fair for all as our Constitution inalienably requires, and your actions promote equality, human dignity and  God-given rights, perhaps I can applaud more.

There's a 'thing' about us that the world admires. It's the way we care for ourselves and others. We are magnanimous and open to ideas and people. The Statue of Liberty still shines it's light and those who used it as a beacon have made us even richer. We are the third largest country in the world in land mass and third in population with 340 million people (China has 2.2 billion, India 1.1 billion). We are blessed with natural resources and opportunity for all. We are a democracy, which is not always easy, but always free. We are stylin'! 

The United States never stopped being great, so we don't have to be great again. We have to be greater and more inclusive for those that felt--and often were--left out of the mix.

You have an enormous responsibility to be everyone's President, but  given a republican President, a republican House and republican Senate, the temptation to govern for only half the people is big. Strange to say, Congress needs your serious effort to keep in check the 'balance of power' equation our government demands. And we need the 'third leg' to complete the balance that gives us our greatness, a Supreme Court that equally respects those values.

You actually lost the popular vote Mr. President-Elect. More than half the people voted for Hillary but you won by states, as is our system. Your mandate was thin but decisive. There are as many people today who see your victory as a loss. I'm one. So us owe us, Mr. President-elect as sure as 'the other half of us' that put you in because of that very perception.

For now and forever, may we put the divisiveness in politics--especially during election times--away? IT'S KILLING US! And please God, never again 600 days! If we did all of this in 12 weeks as some more sane countries mandate we would be seen as smarter. Some countries even automatically register voters. What a concept.

If done shorter and more civilly, hatred, threats, violence, name-calling, cynicism and disdain may not have been on our televisions, in our newspapers and social media til death or elections, do us part. It is absurd, and so are we.

You, President-Elect Trump, will become the most powerful, influential man in the world leading our great nation... the most blessed of all nations. As the world looked on for these 600 days, what did they see? WHAT A RESPONSIBILITY.

Your victory speech was good, but so were those in defeat and acceptance by Hillary Clinton and President Barack Obama. All class acts. We must keep that up.

My brilliant daughter once told me, "Dad, you should never feel bad about getting lost. It could be the start of your next great journey." So we begin: 

The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost, 1874 - 1963

 Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

BACK STORY: In one week, my beloved Cubs won the World Series, my wife's heart stopped (momentarily, thank God) while being transported for a surgical heart procedure and I was diagnosed with prostate cancer. Then the election. Talk about a week!

Are we ashamed of ourselves, or what?

Come on, America. This was an election or a war?

It lasted 600 days... 1 1/2 years! 12 dog years! And it seemed longer than the last time the Cubs won the World Series.

Everyone is unhappy... and mad. Really mad. Most major political
ads feature the diabolical other candidate, usually portrayed in gray and black or purple, with a scowl or mad face. The ads tell us of how bad the person is, how evil, how dishonest, etc.


We are so angry at one another, so mad. We grit our teeth and snarl. We call each other liars, thiefs, bad people worthy of no respect at all.

As the world watches, we represent the worst of America. And bear in mind, the President of the United States is THE MOST POWERFUL PERSON IN THE WORLD! So how do we look to you now, world?

Now we do have smart, good, kind, embracing brilliance in many of our leaders... but those people are also smart enough to not swim in this low water muddy pool.

Do we need more time to find the best of us?  How about never ending campaigns that start at the end of the last election? The television companies would like that. They make enormous dollars--like a year-round Christmas--during campaigns with the political advertising dollars. Nothing is richer to a media company that warring sides.

In social media, anything goes. We can call each other names, threaten and blacken every opponent at every level. We can create both news and undistinguishable fake news in moments. Social media is unrestricted and as crude as the users choose. It fans the flames of fire.

Are we smarter or dumber than those countries that have limited campaign seasons that last, perhaps 12 weeks long? Are we smarter than the countries that automatically register every eligible voter and those countries that make voting mandatory?

What's with us that we do it so badly? And to add insult to injury, we don't forget or forgive. We remain enemies is fact and in spirit so that we can accomplish little except revenge and work negatively to make sure we hurt the leader of the world in accomplishment and cooperation lest he/she get credit. Our congress has achieved the lowest approval ratings in history and we're out to beat our record.

Is there something great about spewing hate and disrespect? You know, this is the world we all have to live in, and we deserve better. There are real problems to solve, both internally and internationally, and we can't even begin without respect for the people we elect and should support.

The rich get richer. The poor and disadvantaged grow larger and poorer. The divide widens.

After such an election, couldn't we create a new platform that embraces the best of both parties for a common good. Then we could have a document to follow. You bet there would have to be give and take, something that never comes easy when it is party first, public last.

Africa offers a similar scenario. Countries divided by tribe that put tribe first, suffer. Countries that focus on common benefit rise. But it's hard to put those rivalries aside. And cohesion starts with listening to what the other has to say, addressing the ails that separate. Rogue candidate Donald Trump touched people. He may not have been THE candidate but he found a message that resonated, an itch that needed scratching. That shouldn't be ignored because it won't go away.

OK, so I've made myself happier by expressing what I feel. I'm guessing that feeling is shared by many. But how do we get to the next step? I hope to God that we find the way. I hope to God.

We are all equally worthy and that's a fact. Not believing changes nothing. If, for one day, one week or one year, we could swap places and see through different eyes, that would be meaningful. But that can happen only in our dreams.

Sweet dreams America.

Backstory: About the Cubs winning... anything

Daughter Jill and one of the very young Cub players

Before the Chicago Cubs won the World Series, before time began, there was a hope that the Cubbies could do it again, just 108 years after their last world championship. My daughter Jill wondered why we cared, though she was not immune to caring. So why do we care? rationale says that, in the end, we're all crazy so why is worshiping baseball gods (small g) any worse than the real world? This is her take:

I’ve been con-vincing myself that tonight doesn’t really matter with simple thoughts of relative importance. My children are all healthy and decent humans to this point. Nate Silver still has my political candidate up. We will have a good meal tonight and many nights into the future. I can be placated, temporarily.

But my stomach is still in a knot.

As I sit in this coffee shop with my laptop open, a clichéd picture of somebody who wrongly assumes they have something important to think, I worry about the Cubs. I know I’m not alone.  All over Facebook, friends from Illinois and even friends who’ve never set foot in Illinois seem to feel that this moment touches them in a special way.

For me, every bit of cynicism in my being is grounded in the bedrock of Cubs Fandom. Though my Dad has always been my cheerleader of positivity around the largest of life issues, whenever the dog poops on his carpet, he takes a wrong turn, or he fails to fix the vacuum cleaner, a deep disappointment in life saturates his surroundings. I remember trying to move out of its way when I was little, the disappointment so pervasive and long-lasting like the coating on the inside of your mouth when you finish a donut or the superglue crust that doesn’t come off your fingers no matter how many times you wash them.

I know the foundation. I learned this deep, perhaps misplaced disappointment before I could even identify the chatter of the baseball announcers or the voice of Harry Caray. Though I never met my Grandfather, within my bones, I could feel him walk heavily across the wooden floor of his Uncle’s Chicago grocery store after a Cubs loss. I imagine him going through the inevitable ups and downs of life as his Italian family settled into their American world, looking toward the Cubs as an iconic symbol of hope, success, and victory. In the beauty of baseball, he always had next year. He had next year until the day he died on his walk home from his work in the bowling alley. He was probably around my age – 47.

I think I know how he must have felt around then, having moved through the ascent of life, the fantasies of meeting the incredible love of your life and creating enormously brilliant and beautiful children, the dream of finding a meaningful career that vaults one into either important notoriety or quiet peaceful satisfaction. At 47, one realizes that love is complicated, children bring worries, and work satisfaction is as mercurial as the moods of colleagues. When the Cubs lose, one must settle in for another year of recognizing that life is just like that. It can be a little disappointing.
Not that the sun doesn’t rise in the morning or anything. It does and it can be really beautiful with the haze and the heavy morning air and all that, but really, this game matters.

Tonight, as you attempt to calm yourself with those stories about how lucky you are that you have the ability to even watch a ball game, don’t kid yourself. All hope rests on this evening.

PS from me: World Series this year, Universe Series next year. Will this never end?

Special note to all who receive my blog posts automatically by email...

HEY!
If you receive my blog posts by email as millions of you do, I accidentally posted my blog on the Cubs before it was finished. So you all got a short canged, half-baked version of something very religious about the best darned team in baseball, no matter what the World Series may... OR MAY NOT SAY, click ItsNutsOutThere.blogspot.com  or just scroll down from this post for the new, improved, completed version now corrected. Thanks!

If the Cubs win the World Series, will hell freeze over? Maybe... just maybe!

I've been a Chicago Cubs fan all my life... just one of millions. We live... and die for the Cubbies. But if they win, do we go to heaven? Non-scientific evidence suggests we may not!

There lives a 110-year-old lady who may be the only one alive when the Cubs last won the World Series. She was just two at the time and has suffered 108 years--a lifetime-- of bitter Cub disappointments... a living hell! Now, if the Cubs win, it may spoil everything for her, and all of us.

Buddah says "Life is suffering," to which Cub fans say "Tell us something we don't know." As one writer says, "All religions, to some extent, understand the value of suffering to be 'worthy' of the promised land.

Catholics understand this as the most underappreciated Christian virtue, wrote Michael Laskey, a Yankees-loving National Catholic Reporter columnist.

A rabbi columnist for the Jerusalem Post hailed the Cubs as "the Jews of the sports world," an idea seconded by U.S. Jewish ambassador, Ron Dermer at a Cub game this year.

There are yarmulkes and caps spelling "Cubs" in Hebrew.  And a Hebrew language T-shirt asking "What did Jesus say to he Cubs? Don't do nothin' til I get back."

Well, it could be happening, but down 3 games to 2 at this writing, and going into the 40-year desert of the enemy, we may yet be saved. However, if the Cubs win and we are fulfilled on earth, where will our eternity be. Has all of our suffering triggered an theological apocalypse with God asking "But what have you done for me lately?"

John Sexton, an NYU law professor and theologian wrote "Baseball as a Road to God." But heaven-forbid we spoil it all with a giant W hanging over Wrigley Field or at Jeff's house.

Rabbi Arnold Kantor, in his annual remarks at Yom Kippur services at Jewish Reconstructionist Congregation in Evanston, Illinois sounded depressed at the prospect of the Cubs finally winning the world Series. "We Jews are not happy when we're happy. We need something to kvetch about. Forty years we walked in the desert. For what" To become the damn Yankees."

Aw, it's ok Cubs. As Adrian whispered to Rocky Balboa as he was coming out of a coma and promising to give up boxing, "Win. WIN! WIN!!!" So I'll take the chance.

  

The Song that Changed Christmas

Irving Berlin's famous song, "White Christmas" isn't at all what you think. It has a backstory that literally changed the way we celebrate our most cherished--and profitable--holiday.

"Legend has it," says WSJ writer Will Friedwald, "that Irving Berlin was in Hollywood working on a movie, and missing his family in New York, as he wrote the musical score for (the movie) Holiday Inn.

Berlin was a prodigious song writer with about 1250 to his credit including 25 that reached number one on the pop charts of the day. He wrote "Alexander's Rag Time Band" in 1911, God Bless America in 1918, Easter Parade in 1933, There's No Business like Show Business in 1946  and a LOT MORE , mostly sentimental old favorites... so old and so sentimental that if you are under 40, you perhaps can't even hum the tune, let alone know the song. Hey, times change as they must. I just put my spats in a garage sale last week.

White Christmas, was first sung and played by Bing Crosby for his leading lady as he sat at the piano, and it is still one of the most played songs every Christmas season. If the words are not engraved in your heart, here are the first two verses:

I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the ones I used to know
Where the treetops glisten and children listen
To hear sleigh bells in the snow
 

                                                       I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
                                                       With every Christmas card I write
                                                     May your days be merry and bright
                                                   And may all your Christmases be white

Christmas just wasn't as big then as it is now. Oh sure, trees and gifts and Santa... but it was so toned down by comparison that nobody had Christmas sales starting before Thanksgiving. 'Black Friday' was unheard of and sometimes, an apple (not the computer) was a worthy gift. Jingle Bells was the top Christmas song of the day and worse, there was no Charlie Brown special! How did we survive?

White Christmas was first written as a variety number to represent that season in a mix of others, but it was taken to heart and resonated deeply as we were just eight months into World War II, deeply worried and needing something that lifted spirits. There was no Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer or I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus. White Christmas was richly flavored to where our hearts and dreams were.

It became the centerpiece of that day's blockbuster movie, Holiday Inn. "The song's first audience," said Friedwald, "comprised soldiers and those on the home front who embraced it as a prayer for peace." And it came on the scene just in time for the introduction of the long-playing record and that new medium, television. It was those two that virtually reinvented Christmas for all the emotionally needy of the time.

As Friedwald said, the song "created its own holiday mythology with itself at the center as a hymn for peace, love and family." And it changed Christmas sentimentality forever.

 

Two years later, still in the midst of "The Great War,"  Berlin wrote the perfect seasonal follow-up,  I'll Be Home for Christmas  . This link is my blog post on that classic, based on an actual experience. And cry if you must. I did.

Imagine Christmas today without these two songs. It just wouldn't be the same.

Old habits die hard... or "Over my dead body."

Betcha can't do this: zipper merge, that is. And if you are forced to it, bet it makes you mad.

Yes, the incredible, hard to believe, impossible, nonsensical, ridiculously wrong perfect thing is as logical as understanding climate change but it really (*substitute word to follow) 'ticks' us off.

Honk. Honk! HONK! HOOOOOONK!!!!

But it works. The zipper merge has been studied by experts for years and we ALL KNOW it works. It just isn't us. The 'zm' flies against bad logic when we know that driving right up the tail pipe of person in front of us is far more satisfyingly-right?... especially if we are frustrated or in a hurry. And letting some 'rule-breaking scum' into your traffic lane... "Over my dead body."

So I know I sure as heck won't do it*... except sometimes, and then not at the first honk or 'finger.'

I'll tell you, just a few months ago, I was returning to NC from St. Louis and took I 40 because I could 'get away' with 70-75 mph and still not be a radar magnet. (In all fairness, my Vespa scooter is not red so I might have gotten away with a little more.) But on a very pleasant Sunday when traffic is supposed to fly, there were two construction stops that added--no exaggeration-- 2 1/2 stop-and-go hours to the journey. I know, bridge needed repairs, but on Sunday with no workers present, big jam none-the-less.

"I'll get ya' through, baby... "

So if all thousands of us drivers did the zipper merge (to the tempo of "All the way" by Frank Sinatra), we would have zipped home hours earlier, and in a far better mood.

We could have slowed to a decent funeral procession speed, allowed a 3-or-4 car space between us and the driver in front, bobbed our heads back and forth in time with the music and smiled through every slow, God-help-us, mile without speeding to close the gap then slamming on the brakes and stopping till we get to go and speed again, then repeat forever. The catch: everyone has to do it or it doesn't work. (That's like never being able to take an in-focus picture of earth from space because somebody moved.)

OK America, that's the plan. Now let's get out there and just 'do it!'

Right everybody?... Anybody?... aw, never mind.

Notice: This has been a public service blog post because I couldn't think of anything fun to write.

*I actually do, most of the time.

Perfect day for Singin' in the Rain

... and a pretty darned fun movie, rain or shine. Released in 1952, Rotten Tomatoes today has it at its 10th best rated film. In 2007, The American Film Industry called it the 5th greatest movie of all time. And Entertainment Weekly names Singin' in the Rain it's highest ranked musical. Wow!

The reason I love this film is not only for it's title song but for Good Morning, the richest song and dance number I have ever enjoyed. Its opening line by Debbie Reynolds is still heard today on one TV network's morning show to open its broadcast.

Gene Kelly's script for the movie

And there is a rich backstory of the movie itself. It is set back in the 1920s when silent movies were transitioning to 'talkies' and the three principal characters were mirrored after real actors of the day, anxious about their future in this technical new world. (Sound familiar?)
 
Aspiring actress Debbie Reynolds was a newcomer in those days. When hired, she lived with her parents and had to leave home at 4 a.m. and take three different buses to get to the studio on time. She often slept on the set.

She had a good face and great voice but couldn't dance. Gene Kelly, who directed, choreographed and starred in the movie, was known as somewhat of a tyrant and was verbally critical of Reynolds inability to dance. The film's third star, dancer Donald O'Connor found Reynolds crying under a piano and promised her that he would help her learn.

Reynolds had gymnastic talent and, it was discovered, was a very quick study as the dance numbers will prove.

My favorite dance number started filming at 8 in the morning and concluded at 11 p.m. It required 40 takes before it was director-satisfied. Reynolds had to be carried to her dressing room after having ruptured blood vessels in her feet. She later said that having a baby and doing this film were the two most painful things in her life.

Filming was so demanding that several of the stars had to take time off after strenuous segments were filmed. In one segment, Donald O'Connor tap danced across the floor and up the walls before a backward flip.

Gene Kelly

He recalled,  "I was smoking four packs of cigarettes a day then, and getting up those walls was murder. They had to bank one wall so I could make it up and then through another wall. We filmed that whole sequence in one day. We did it on a concrete floor. My body just had to absorb this tremendous shock. Things were building to such a crescendo that I thought I'd have to commit suicide for the ending. I came back on the set three days later. All the grips applauded. [Gene Kelly] applauded, told me what a great number it was. Then Gene said, "Do you think you could do that number again?" I said, "Sure, any time". He said, "Well, we're going to have to do it again tomorrow". No one had checked the aperture of the camera and they fogged out all the film. So the next day I did it again! By the end my feet and ankles were a mass of bruises."

The first time they tried to film the famous "Singin' In The Rain" song and dance sequence, they shot it in the late afternoon. Unfortunately the homeowners in the area had just come home from work and had turned on their lawn sprinklers so there was not enough water pressure for the "rain" to work. They finally filmed the sequence the next day, early enough so that everyone was at work and the water pressure was adequate for the shot. And this is how it turned out.

Donald O'Connor, Debbie Reynolds, Gene Kelly

Best dog book ever!

Aren't we suckers for dog books? Seems most 'must read' books about dogs are either instructional or touching tales, real or fictional... but I hate it when the dog dies in the end. By last count, we've more than 30 here and there, not counting what we've given away or 'rummage sold.'

But there is one that is a must. It has delighted every grandchild--17 in total--and every adult reader. And it gives a message so real and pure.

That would be Flawed Dogs: The Year-End Leftovers at the Piddleton "Last Chance" Dog Pound by Berkelley Breathed. It is probably the best dog book ever. It fancifully tells the story of every 'rescue' and how each got that way. Every ending will earn a smile and milk a tear. AND BEST, No dogs died in end.

The sign on the door of the Piddleton Last Chance Dog Pound, Piddleton, Vermont, Pop. 327 (People 243) reads:

DOGS AVAILABLE!

So hurry lest you miss out.

It is whimsically drawn and told by Friends of the Piddleton Pound, Tammy Quackenbush, President (who is also President of the Piddleton Poetry Club, the Vermont Booster Broads, Vice president of Vegetarian Quilters against Land Mines and Bazookas and Treasurer of the Chicken Liberation Front.)

You'll read about flawed dogs Bipsie and Noodles, Tina and Lulu, Rollo and Titus, Jeeves and Pete, Pepe and Willie Wonker, Buttercup and Heather, iBoo and Ben, Sal and Barney, Spanks and my favorite, Sam the Lion. And here's the secret that's not so secret:

So in this world

Of the simple and odd,

The bent and plain,

The unbalanced bod, 

The imperfect people

And differently pawed,

Some live without love...

That's how they're flawed.

I promise you will fall in love with the story, the dogs, and especially the drawings. It is a richly told and illustrated tale of morality and kindness that applies to all creatures and touches humanity where there seems to be a need.





Ask for Flawed Dogs by Berkeley Breathed (published in 2003) at your bookstore or electronically here where you can thumb through a few pages to see what I mean. Its cover may also look like this... but I like my cover best.

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night...

That's a 12 cent stamp on her forehead

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night shall stay these couriers from swift completion of their appointed rounds. The U.S. Postal Service has no official motto but these words, engraved across the front of the U.S. Postal Building in New York are familiar to most of us.

 

Smoke signals were probably our first 'expedited' method of conveying information rapidly a long distance. Then came The Pony Express followed by telegraph, telephone and beyond.

The U.S. Mail was founded in 1775 with Ben Franklin as its first postmaster general. It is legally obligated to serve all Americans, regardless of geography, at uniform price and quality. And they always did.

In the 19th century, much of the country was 'rural' and the Post Office deemed door to door, mailbox to mailbox, the mail must be delivered. Before this, most had to venture to the closest post office periodically to get their mail... often a lengthy trip over bad roads in horrible weather. To go with this, a new level of delivery--parcel post-- assured many things of different weights and shapes could be mailed at costs below postal expenses. And everything, up to 50 pounds, could be mailed.

And for a while, the United States Post Office delivered children. (Yes, really.) This photo (right) is real. The one above is someone's modern day recreation.

It was felt, at the time, that this was an accepted service to help parents get their children to grandma's house a few miles down the road, or in one Oregon instance, from Grangeville to Lewistown --70 miles for 53 cents. For just 15 cents, a 6-year-old was mailed 725 miles from Florida to Virginia.

Actually, the kids were treated like kids, not sacks of mail, often riding in mail cars and being given food and water on the journey.

It wasn't until June 13, 1920 when kids were officially taken out of the mail sack for good.

It was the giant mailers of that day, Montgomery Ward and Sears, Roebuck & Company that drove the demand for parcel post to deliver their mail order goods to rural America that led to human cargo. Oh, and pets too.

Sears Kit Home

From 1908 all the way up to 1940,  Sears, Roebuck & Co. (today, Sears) sold and shipped 70,000 mail order kit homes, complete from instructions to nails and everything else needed to assemble and live in. The homes were  freighted but so much of everything else in the giant catalog was borne on the backs of the postmen.

One of the strangest (if you don't count a severed ear or and the slave who escaped by mail) was the shipment of 80,000 bricks from the foundry to a Utah building site 127 miles away. They were sent in parcel-post-package-limits of 50 pounds each. This was deemed the least expensive way to get them from point A to point B. That would be about 3,200 packages if my postal scale is correct. And I do hope you appreciate my fact checking but I'm out the cost of 80,000 bricks and now don't know what to do with them.

Bless the USPS for its diligence over the years but today, it cost lots more to mail less... and our postal system is loosing billions of our money every year. Darn that email. This, however, will be corrected when I complete my new teleporting booth and sell it commercially for less than the cost of an EpiPen. Hope I'm luckier than the guy in The Fly.

Challenge match: Who is funnier, The Brits or the Colonists?

Confession: This post is 3 years old but I liked it... so here it is again. With the exception of Monty Python and Peter Sellers, we (the USA) are definitely funnier, Brexit or not, than the Brits.

The ten best jokes at the Fringe Festival in Scotland have just been announced. The headline in the British newspaper read "... These are the best jokes, bar none." Oh yeah? The jokes are so lame that I am challenging them to see which side of the pond has the funniest jokes. You be the judge.

Number 10

Theirs: The good thing about lending someone your time machine is that you basically get it back immediately.
Ours: I was in Rome recently and wanted to say "Hi" to the Pope, so I looked up his number in the phone book. It was et cum spirtu-tuo. (OK, so maybe you have to be Catholic, but it was funny in third grade... and beats the pants off their joke.)  Score: 1-0 USA

Number 9

Theirs: I was adopted at birth and have never met my mum. That makes it very difficult to enjoy any lap dance.
Ours: What songs do cows like to dance to? Any kind of mooosic will do. (A simple kid joke wins again!)  2-0 USA

Number 8

Theirs: The Universe implodes. No matter.
Ours: Chuck Norris counted to infinity--twice! (Cha-ching!) 3-0 USA

Number 7

Theirs: You know you are fat when you hug a child and it gets lost. (No!)
Ours: What does a snail say when he is riding on a turtle's back? Weeeee!! (Another kid joke is all it takes.) 4-0 USA

Number 6

Theirs: The Pope is a lot like Dr. Who. He never dies, just keeps being replaced by white men.
Ours: The Vatican announced it will begin selling its ceremonial incense mixtures that were previously only used in worship services.  The first scent will be Popepourri. (Now that's funny!)
5-0 USA

Number 5

Theirs: I can give you the cause of anaphylactic (sic) shock in a nutshell.
Ours: What happened when the monster ate the electric company? He was in shock for a month. (Kid jokes are better.)  6-0 USA

Number 4

Theirs: My friend told me he was going to a fancy dress party as an Italian island. I said to him "Don't be Sicily." (Their best attempt yet. Awkward but cute.)
Ours: Q: Did you hear about the Italian chef that died? A: He pasta way. (We really would have won but I'm giving them this one for sentimental reasons... I'm Italian.)  6-1 USA

Number 3

Theirs: I'm in a same sex marriage... the sex is always the same.
Ours: Take my wife... please! (Ta dah!)  7-1 USA

Number 2

Theirs: I used to work in a shoe-recycling shop. It was sole-destroying.
Ours: Man finds a shoe repair claim ticket in an old suit he hadn't worn for 12 years. Thinking he would play a joke on the cobbler, he presented his ticket with a straight face. The repairman, showing no emotion, checked in the back room then hollered, "They'll be ready Thursday."  8-1 USA

And the Number 1 British winner

Theirs: I heard a rumour (Britspeak) that Cadbury is bringing out an oriental chocolate bar. Could be a Chinese Wispa. (Really? Is that the best you've got?)
Ours: The doctor sadly tells the patient, "Sorry but you have only one month to live." The patient, crestfallen, grabs the doctor by his lab coat lapels and desperately asks "Isn't there something... anything I can do?!" The doctor pauses, then says, "Well... you could take two mud baths a day... " Hopeful, the distraught patient says, "Oh, thank you doctor... will this cure me?" Doctor shakes his head, "No... but it will get you used to the dirt." (Always save the best for last, right?)

Final score: USA 9, Great Britain 1
The elegant solid gold Knee-Slapper Trophy goes to America for the first year in a row!




Now don't you all go rioting like this is a football (really soccer) game... just be graceful and give us a "Jolly good, old chap" ... and send more episodes of Downton Abbey.

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!: Signs of the Apocalypse, Part 3

No, it's NOT all about Marcia (top left),  It's about Jan (middle left), who spoke those catchphrase words in the frustration that only a middle sister could understand.

Note: Signs of the Apocalypse are those seemingly unworldly happenings that run dramatically counter to the real world normal. Could these events be foretelling that the end is near? Nah! Things ARE getting crazier and that's the new normal.

But this time, the last laugh is Jan's (Eve Plumb in real life). It was 1969 and Eve was one year into her most noted role as Jan on The Brady Bunch which lasted on TV until 1974... and then in syndication perhaps forever.

So 11-year-old Eve bought her first house, a little 850 square-footer with a wrap-around deck, for $55,300. She just sold that house for a mere $3.9 million. Not bad appreciation for a starter home. Near that time, I bought my first house, 900-square feet, for $14,900. Then made a killing when I sold it three years later for $16,100. I was rich!

Her secret: Location, location, location. Her house was on the ocean in Malibu Beach. I guess the ocean wasn't there in 1969 which is why she bought it cheap(er). Mine was in Peoria, Illinois which is nowhere near the ocean... or anything else.

The Hermes Bolide 45 Shark

  

Want a new travel bag? This little bugger caught my eye. Saw it in Vanity Fair magazine... a must have. It's the Hermes Bolide 45 Shark " for a weekend get away or an extended sojourn" It's only $12,800, not counting tax, postage and handling and looks to be well worth it. I think the folks at Motel 6 will be green with envy when I check in with this beauty.

Medical bills got you up against the wall? I remember in the publishing biz (my life's work), every year, employee medical costs would increase by double digits, year after year. This was a number of years back and I'd always wonder why medical stuff just kept getting more and more expensive.

My nifty back belt

So maybe I shouldn't have been surprised when I had back surgery earlier in the year and I (and my insurance company) had to buy and use this back support for about a month. This is the one my surgeon said was the best and he wanted me to have it. So I did. Later, when the charge came through, I was a teensy bit taken aback. Would you guess it cost $1,550? Amazon had one from the same company that looked vaguely familiar. It went for $250, on Amazon Prime no less, but I'm sure it couldn't possibly match my Cadillac version.

Then there are the medications that suddenly increase in price overnight when the rights to manufacture are sold to another pharmaceutical company. A few of the notable:  

• Cycloserine for tuberculosis, from $500 to $10,800 for 30 pills.

• Ofirmed, an injectable painkiller, from $410 to$1,019.52 for 24 vials.

• Vimovo for symptoms of arthritis, from $160 to $1,678.52 for 60 tablets.

• Edecrin, a duretic, from $470 to $4,600 per vial.

• Benznidizole, treats Chagas disease, a $60,000 per treatment increase.

• EpiPen, for kids with life-threatening allergies, a 400% increase since acquisition.

• But the ignominius topper is Daraprim. The day after purchase by Turing Pharmaceuticals, CEO Martin Shkreli bumped the price of this 62-year-old drug from $18.50 to $750. and bragged about it in the press. The medication is a critical treatment for a parasitic infection that could be fatal to those with compromised immune systems due to conditions like AIDS/HIV and cancer.

These increases are called "I gotcha now pricing," befitting the twisted 'golden rule' of capitalism gone mad: "Those who have the gold, rule."

Is it any wonder medical costs continue to amaze?

BTW, Don't you love the new medication names? The good ones have at least one or two Z's and an X or two and a Q without a U. And that supper time is the best TV time to promote laxatives with live action graphics showing the bowel in action. YUMMY! Makes you want to wear  "I (heart) my Laxative." on a T-shirt.

What Harry Potter looks like dead

Then there's Daniel Radcliffe's soaring acting career after Harry Potter, landing the role of a dead person in Swiss Army Man. really. It's the best dead role since Weekend With Bernie. Danial is dead from the first scene to the last and in it, he farts amazing, miraculous farts, and saves a life! Yep, that's true too in the movie.

Next thing you know, Missouri will pass a law that allows people to carry concealed guns without a permit. See? The apocalypse. (Late news flash... the Gov did not sign the bill into law. We are saved!)