Monday, July 30, 2012

COLORADO IS SO BEAUTIFUL, SOME VISITORS CAN BARELY CONTAIN THEMSELF

The image of the great state of Colorado has been tarnished again.  This past week, the senseless,
cowardice of Columbine was similarly resurrected in Aurora.  My deepest, heartfelt thoughts go out to all the victims, their families and everyone who was indirectly hurt.  I hope that in some small way, I can deliver a temporary diversion from these heinous acts and remind the world of Colorado's stunning beauty...and perhaps encourage those who have never been there...to visit.

To help celebrate the wonders of Colorado, let me introduce my younger readers to John Denver.
HENRY JOHN DEUTSCHENDORF JR., a.k.a. JOHN DENVER (1943-1997) WAS A MUSICAL SUPERSTAR OF THE 1970's.  HE WROTE AND PERFORMED ON ACOUSTIC GUITAR, OVER 200 FOLK, POP AND COUNTRY SONGS.  HIS MAIN THEME WAS THE JOY OF NATURE AND IN 2007, COLORADO ADOPTED HIS, "ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH," AS THEIR STATE SONG.

When I went through the Rocky Mountains during my cross country trip in 1976, a disjointed collage of wrong John Denver lyrics played in my head.  I was probably hearing, "TAKE ME HOME, COUNTRY ROADS," as I got my first taste of the Colorado's true splendor, in Grand Junction.  Then as I came east on I-70, with nobody to share the grandeur of the incredible landscape, I'm sure I was butchering the words to, "ANNIE'S SONG."

In the past, I have celebrated Colorado with two other blogs.  The first (March 23, 2009) was entitled, "THE STOCKHOLM EFFECT ON I-70."  It centered around the strange chain of events that led me to rustic Georgetown.  The second Colorado story from May 18, 2009 was called, "MY 33-YEAR BOYCOTT, THE GREAT ROCKY MOUNTAIN BUZZ-KILL."  It also starts in Georgetown but involves different people and ends in Golden.

Today's third tribute to the state, starts in the University of Colorado, (in Boulder).  I had such a good time during my two days and one night there that I remember few details.
NESTLED INTO THE FOOTHILLS OF THE ROCKIES, BOULDER IS NOT ONLY BEAUTIFUL BUT A REALLY COOL PLACE TO BE TWENTY-ONE.
I had a great afternoon of hanging out with other backpackers in town.  I will always cherish the raw simplicity of being there.  Then, two years later, ABC-TV appreciated the vibe of Boulder too and was clever enough to set the show, "MORK AND MINDY," there.
"MORK AND MINDY," HAD A 95 EPISODE RUN FROM 1978-1982.  THIS SCIENCE FICTION SITCOM STARRED THE THEN-UNKNOWN ROBIN WILLIAMS AND PAM DAWBER.  PART OF MY ATTRACTION TO THE SHOW WAS BECAUSE MANY ESTABLISHING SHOTS AND RARE EXTERIOR SCENES REFRESHED MY FOND MEMORIES OF BOULDER.
My fellow cross country travelers told me that the youth hostel on campus was one of the best.  When dusk set in, I followed the hippie-like pilgrimage to a Greek Parthenon-style building.  An electricity of excitement coursed through my veins as I scaled the granite steps, strode between the huge pillars and advanced to the impressive ten-foot high door. Unfortunately, on my limited budget, the seven buck price tag was too steep.  An Oregonian (Kurt) agreed.  He then suggested sleeping on the nearby hillside, for free.  We met earlier and had tossed a Frisbee together.  Kurt had also told me that the University of Colorado mascot, a real buffalo, runs out onto the football field before each home game...and once got loose.  It's little tidbits like that that made me know he was okay.
IN 1976, I WAS UNDER THE WRONG IMPRESSION THAT BUFFALOES WERE EXTINCT.  ABOVE, IT LOOKS LIKE A DIFFICULT TO TASK TO KEEP "RALPHIE" FROM RUNNING AMOK AND IT'S GOT TO BE IMPOSSIBLE TO KEEP THE BEHEMOTH FROM SOILING THE PLAYING SURFACE.

Kurt brought me to a quiet area that looked like the exact spot where the Rocky Mountains started. He told some interesting stories and one of them had to do with the Native American legend that claims, it is never easy to leave Boulder. We shared our food, I had a transistor radio and we fell asleep.
KURT, FACING WEST, TOOK THE SHOT ON THE LEFT LOOKING INTO THE MOUNTAINS.  ON THE RIGHT, EASTWARD, YOU CAN SEE THE SLOPE LEADING DOWN TO THE FLAT PRAIRIE.

In the morning, I realized that I had a good time with Kurt but I decided against his offer to travel together.  This decision was based purely by the fact that he turned away from me to pee without enough of a buffer zone.  However, he did give me his phone number and address in Rosenberg Oregon and I did visit him, (but that's another story).

By noon, I was on my own trying to hitchhike into Denver.  I was out there about an hour when Kurt's legend that its hard to leave town came to mind.  Moments later, a car stopped a couple of hundred feet in front of me.  It was close enough for me to recognize that the Buick had New York license plates. I hurried over with the idea of begging my fellow New Yorker into giving me a ride.

The coincidence here is so incredible that if someone else told me that this happened to them, I wouldn't believe it.  The reason why the driver stopped was because his car trunk popped open, ( I NEVER heard of such a thing happening).  A million times crazier, when the driver slammed down the trunk, it was Ernie G. from the neighborhood.  We were never friends but we played ball together, were in the same classes and we still lived four blocks apart.  He was staying at the nearby Boulder KOA and was returning from K-Mart.  When I got in his car, he told me that Freddy Z. was waiting for him back at their campsite.  It was uncanny, Fred and I had been close friends, in third and fourth grade.

I slept in their tent that night.  The next day, we went north to the town of Estes Park to see Rocky Mountain National Park.
JULY 1976 - ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK.  DON'T BLAME FREDDY, CRAPPY CAMERAS TAKE CRAPPY PICTURES.  AND BECAUSE ERNIE AND FREDDY LURED ME INTO STAYING THAT EXTRA NIGHT IN BOULDER, THAT REINFORCES THE INDIAN SUPERSTITION THAT KURT MENTIONED.
I gravitated to easy-going Freddy because we had a past to fall back on. Ernie was too intense, self-centered and bossy.  The watchword of my trip was freedom.  So it didn't take me long, to seek an opportune moment to ditch being ordered around by Ernie and return to the open road.

Later, we headed south on Interstate 25.  At least when Freddy drove, he played a John Denver 8-track.  It fit the mood as we passed Pike's Peak and other natural wonders. When Ernie drove, he blew-out our eardrums with hard rocking, heavy metal, "MOUNTAIN."
NO, THIS WASN'T TAKEN WITH MY INSTAMATIC.
Near the New Mexico border, after dinner, we split a motel room, (we ate at Pizza Hut...that's a different story when the local recipe called for packing my Italian sub with jalapeno peppers).  Our room had two queen-sized beds.  Ernie was a real asshole and insisted that Freddy and I share one bed and that he sleeps alone.  When we reached an apparent stalemate, he proclaimed that he would pay the lion's share of the cost for the solo bed privilege.

In the morning, I had had enough.  I asked to be dropped off at the Greyhound station.  Somehow I lost track of one of my goals and missed seeing, "FOUR CORNERS" in the "THE MONUMENT VALLEY."

THE MONUMENT VALLEY IS WHERE COLORADO, NEW MEXICO, ARIZONA AND UTAH ALL MEET.  IT'S UNIQUE TERRAIN MADE IT A FAVORITE LOCATION FOR JOHN FORD WESTERN MOVIES.  GOING THERE HAS BEEN ON MY BUCKET LIST FOR A LONG TIME.  THE CLOSEST I GOT WAS MY VISIT TO THE GRAND CANYON WHEN WE TOOK AN EXTRA EXCURSION TO THE PETRIFIED DESERT IN 2009...BUT WE RAN OUT OF TIME.

I never blamed Ernie for making me miss the Monument Valley.  But for the rest of my cross country trip, it gnawed at me why he was so adamant about having his own bed.

That summer, I was on the road 68 days.  In that time, I kept a journal.  In lieu of letters, every now and then, I mailed those entries to my parents.  In them, I never bad-mouthed Ernie.

When I got home, I told my parents a steady stream of stories that never made it into the diary.  When I got to Ernie's bed story, my mother smiled and said, "It's no mystery, I know exactly why he acted that way."  I said, "Why?"  She said, "I only need one word, enuresis."  I said, "Heh?"  She said, "He's incontinent."  I said, What?"  Mom said, "Incontinent means, he can't contain himself."  Mom saw my confused expression and added, "Your friend is a bed-wetter."

My mother knew this because, in the mid-60's, to generate more income, she opened a bedding store in Canarsie.  She told me that Ernie's mom used to buy rubber sheets for him when he was an adolescent.  My mom also said that if its a physical problem most people grow out of it.  But if its psychological, without proper care, the problem and the collateral damage it can cause, might linger for years.

Luckily, I think Ernie is well-adjusted enough to overcome this physical and mental albatross.  Yes, he over compensates for his insecurity and embarrassment with annoying brashness but I can recognize it as harmless and work around it.  Besides, the few times that we've crossed paths since Colorado, (the late 80's was the last time), I felt sorry that he felt forced to come off so strongly.

The shame is, that with a better way to detect and treat people with emotional problems maybe we could minimize if not eliminate the behavior that has rocked Colorado, in Columbine and Aurora.

To brighten your mood, click on the link below for John Denver's, "ROCKY MOUNTAIN HIGH."  And if you like it, for more positivism and inspiration, check out all of his hits like, "SUNSHINE ON MY SHOULDER" and "THANK GOD I'M A COUNTRY BOY." (or as RBOY and I used to call it, "THANK GOD, I'M A CANARSIE BOY."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aWU8XWksg_0

C'mon, let's have a road trip!  Fill your car's tank full-o-gas and don't stop till he get to the Colorado side of the Four Corners!  I'll be the one scratching the first entry off his bucket list.

Monday, July 23, 2012

TIGERS AND BEARS AND LIONS...OH MY

There's nothing really exciting about two of my son Andrew's former school mascots.  It was nice to be an Absegami Brave in high school and in grammar school, it was sort of cool to be a Reeds Road Bulldog. 
ON A FEW OCCASIONS, I SERVED AS BUBBA THE BULLDOG. ON DECEMBER 2005,  (above),  IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN FREEZING OUTSIDE WHEN I GREETED THE BUSES BUT TRUST ME, IN THAT COSTUME, I LOST 16 POUNDS OF SWEAT IN ONE HOUR. OF COURSE, THE OUTFIT SMELLED BUBBA-LICIOUS AFTER I WAS DONE...IT'S THE BEST DEFENSE AGAINST ANIMAL CRUELTY !
Andrew's more interesting mascots were tigers and bears and lions...oh my.  Yes, what a coincidence, he was a Roland Rogers Tiger, a Galloway Township Middle School Grizzly and then a few days ago, on July 17th, he matriculated and became a lion when he officially registered at TCNJ.
TCNJ WAS FOUNDED IN 1855 AND WAS ORIGINALLY CALLED, THE NJ STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, (SPECIALIZING IN TEACHER TRAINING).  IN 1925, THE SCHOOL MOVED FROM TRENTON TO EWING NJ. IN 1958, THE NAME TRENTON STATE UNIVERSITY WAS ADOPTED .  IN 1996, THEY CHANGED THE NAME AGAIN TO TCNJ.  TODAY APPROXIMATELY 7 THOUSAND UNDERGRADUATES STUDY A WIDE VARIETY OF CLASSES.

Oh!  You never heard of TCNJ?  Well now you know it stands for the overly wordy, The College of New Jersey. More importantly, this institution of higher learning has a tremendous scholastic reputation.  So much so that many experts consider an education there to be the equivalent of the Ivy League...without the lofty tuition.  So with all that burgeoning intelligence running around, why does TCNJ have such an identity crisis?

It seems strange to me that most people even bright New Jerseyians need the TCNJ initials clarified.  You'd think that some clever student, alumni or an advertising company would find a catchier name, in order to create a universally distinct brand that's synonymous with brilliance.  My point is, where would Yale be if they were TYUC, (The Yale University of Connecticut).  Even a less intellectually motivated organization like Dunkin' Donuts realizes the importance of standing out.

DUNKIN' DONUTS WAS ESTABLISHED IN 1950.  THEY NOW HAVE OVER 10 THOUSAND STORES WORLDWIDE, (BUT ONLY 75 IN THE USA WEST OF THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER).  IN THE 60's, A FRIEND'S BROTHER JOINED THE DUNKIN' DONUT MANAGEMENT PROGRAM AND EVEN THEY WERE SAVVY ENOUGH TO USE THE  COLORFUL ACRONYM,  "DUD," (THE DUNKIN' UNIVERSITY OF DONUTRY).  IT'S OVER 40 YEARS LATER AND I STILL REMEMBER THAT FACTOID.

TCNJ's original name, "The Normal School" was far from glamorous..  That boring name flew under the radar for 103 years until the powers that be concluded that a more dynamic name was needed.  But they didn't take much of a chance by renaming it Trenton State.  So by comparison, the movers and shakers who decided on the next change should get a medal for only taking 38 years, to realize that Trenton is a dying city with a negative reputation, (so bad that when people heard Trenton State, many assumed it was a prison).  So it's shocking to me that on the third try in 1996, the best name change they could come up with was...TCNJ.
TRENTON WAS INCORPORATED IN 1792 AND WAS KNOWN AS THE SITE OF WASHINGTON'S FIRST MILITARY VICTORY. BY THE LATE 1800's, THE CITY BECAME A MAJOR MANUFACTURING CENTER.  THE LOWER TRENTON BRIDGE THAT LINKS WITH MORRISVILLE PA., BEARS THE ONCE PROUD SLOGAN; TRENTON MAKES, THE WORLD TAKES.   BUT BY THE 1960's, INDUSTRY DECLINED, MOVED ELSEWHERE AND THE CITY'S ECONOMY WAS HIT HARD.

I make no attempt to even pretend that I am smart but it seems clear to me that in addition to their name, TCNJ needs to tighten some other things up too. For one, the written driving directions they provide suck aren't accurate. Then if I relied on my GPS, I would have gone completely out of my way.  The college may as well be in the Yukon because it is in such an awkward spot that no two people I asked agreed on a definitive route. I doggedly prepared for the trip because I was determined not screw up getting there on registration day. Even the computer sites for direction were so out of whack that they were useless to me.

In desperation, I called the TCNJ main information number.  When I hung up from the representative, I was confident that she was sending me the best way. Well...let's just say the giant sign that she advertised as, "You can't miss it," NEVER appeared.  Maybe the sign was being repaired that day?  Or maybe the sun was in my eyes and maybe my hair got in my eyes.  Or better yet, maybe aliens from Planet Xenon zapped me with a temporarily distracting Kryptonite laser...but either way, I was left to my own devices. Then despite the lack of TCNJ signage and the spiderweb of different highways that conveniently all end in 95...I used guesswork, guile and luck to find my own way to Nirvana (TCNJ) through heavy rush hour traffic, in a timely manner.

The prospective TCNJ student's first glimpse of the campus is extremely positive.  Upon entering the visitor parking lot, in big letters you see, BLISS HALL.  You can't help but feel happy, welcome and spiritually at one with the prospect of your child enjoying their college experience there.  This joy fest ends immediately because the second building is LOSER HALL.

WE SOON DISCOVERED THAT TCNJ WAS GENEROUSLY ENDOWED BY PAUL LOSER.  AND APPARENTLY, HE PRONOUNCED HIS NAME TO RHYME WITH HOOSIER.  NEVERTHELESS, YOU ONLY GET ONE CHANCE TO MAKE A GOOD FIRST IMPRESSION.

Our long car ride to TCNJ was punctuated with the hot slap in the face that only 100 degree temperatures can provide.  While we wandered around trying to stay in the shade while hunting down the registration station, I was reminded of one of Johnny Carson's comedy bits.  It started with him saying something like:  It was sure hot in L. A. today...Then because the audience was well-fluffed by his sidekick Ed McMahon before the show, they knew to scream out; How hot was it? Then Johnny's punchline would be something to the effect of:  It was so hot, that in Burbank while filming a commercial, the Tidy Bowl Man took a sauna in the septic tank.
TY-D-BOL IS A TOILET CLEANSER AND DISINFECTANT THAT WAS DEVELOPED IN 1958.  IT'S STILL ON THE MARKET TODAY.  THEIR FAMOUS TV COMMERCIAL INCLUDED A NAUTICAL SPOKESMAN BOATING IN A TOILET'S WATER TANK.

We got our bearings with the help of some TCNJ student ambassadors.  They were also the one's who cheerfully explained the irony and correct pronunciation of Loser.
THERE ARE SO MANY PERKY, FRIENDLY AND KNOWLEDGEABLE AMBASSADORS THAT IT SEEMED LIKE ANY TIME WE NEEDED HELP, ONE OF THEM WAS ALWAYS NEARBY...MAYBE THEY SHOULD BE IN CHARGE OF GIVING THE DRIVING DIRECTIONS. 

Most of the events took place indoors.  The biggest gathering was the welcoming ceremony.  Then the incoming freshmen were sent off to do the actual registering, set up class schedules and iron-out individual details.  The parents remained sequestered in the auditorium and were addressed and further orientated by administration reps.  After questions and answers, we were sent back into the outdoor furnace for other activities.

Outside, the school set-up hospitality tents with ambassadors, pamphlets and cold water.  Plus, scattered throughout the 289 acre campus, Adirondack chairs were always a welcome sight along the pretty tree-lined passages.

We were re-united with kids for lunch, at Eickhoff Hall.  I guess it was inevitable, but I believe that at this moment all parents spontaneously became invisible to their former rug rats. At least Eickhoff  (I-COUGH), the main dining facility among seven other eateries on campus was pleasant. We weren't exactly lavished at Eickhoff but at least I didn't come away calling it, "I-CHOKE."

The new students went their own way again as we attended two seminars.  Along the way we passed the Roscoe Library.
I HOPE IT'S NOT AN OMEN BUT "ROSCOE" WAS A SLANG TERM FOR A PISTOL IN THE 1940's.  ROSCOE THE LION, (above),  "GUARDS" THE TCNJ LIBRARY.  HE IS SAID TO BE, "STOMPING THE SERPENT OF KNOWLEDGE."  I WILL GIVE IN TO THEIR WISDOM HERE. STOMPING ON THE SERPENT OF KNOWLEDGE... IS THAT A GOOD THING?

At 3:PM, we all gathered one last time at Wolf Hall, (one of the two dormitory towers).  First we were invited to a ice cream social in the basement bistro.  It was great to be introduced to the parents of Andrew's new friends. 

Then upstairs, we waited in line, in the broiling sun, to get a glimpse at the sleeping quarters, in order to get ideas on how to maximize the comfort of Andrew's daily living routine.  We are counting on him to rise above the name Wolf Hall and not lead a feral lifestyle.

We capped off our exciting day, at the Brower Student Union Building.  In the TCNJ bookstore, we bought tee-shirts, decals, a required book and "Proud TCNJ Parent," coffee mugs, (one of which I am using now).  On our way out we even bumped into Roscoe, the school mascot.
AS BUBBA THE BULLDOG, I WAS A BUBBLIER MASCOT THAN ROSCOE THE LION.  OF COURSE IT WAS 35 DEGREES WHEN I SWEAT UP A STORM IN THE PHOTO, (AT THE TOP OF THIS COLUMN).  SO I CAN IMAGINE THE HOT TIME HE HAD ON OUR 100 DEGREE DAY.
Other than being "pawed" by the natural separation anxiety, I anticipate no real problems with TCNJ's petty flaws.  I am also confident that the school will help catapult Andrew into a strong level of future preparedness. 

Yes the school is only ninety minutes away and yes it's both close enough for frequent visits as well as far enough away for him to grow as an individual. But once he gets going, it may as well be Oz.  And my little vonce might have less and less need to come back to Kansas, (home).  It'll be a tough adjustment but in the long run, it'll be healthy for all of us.

The bigger picture is, Andrew was once tiger, then a grizzly bear and now a lion...oh my.  And there's nothing cowardly about him as he launches his new collegiate life, in one month.  And while he's blazing new trails for himself, wouldn't it be great if he was the one to establish TCNJ's new and improved identity.

Monday, July 16, 2012

I NEVER SAW IT COMING...

I have witnessed few car accidents.  In the last ten days, I have seen two of the strangest.

On the way back from seeing the fireworks in Wildwood (NJ), on the 4th of July, I was driving on the four-lane causeway (over the marshes) that links North Wildwood to the mainland.
THE PHOTO CHOICE WAS OBVIOUS BETWEEN THIS AND A CLOSE-UP OF ME PIGGISHLY EATING A SAUSAGE AND PEPPER SANDWICH, COMPLETE WITH A LARGE CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM STAIN ON MY SHIRT.

At 11:PM, the outgoing traffic was heavy but I was able to maintain 55MPH.  Two miles before the Garden State Parkway entrance, the cars started to slow down. I was crawling along in the right lane with a giant Lincoln Navigator in front of me, so I couldn't see what the problem was.

I was down to about 20MPH when an SUV in the left lane unnecessarily cut-off the Navigator.  But the SUV didn't stay in the right lane.  It continued onto the shoulder and sideswiped the concrete barrier so hard that sparks were flying.  At the same time, the passenger door behind the SUV's driver opened and a young girl (14?) fell out of the car and her ankle was run over.

The Navigator slammed on his brakes.  The driver jumped out to help and so did others.  The girl tried to stand but couldn't.  The next day, I spoke to MACE (a resident of North Wildwood) but he didn't see anything in the newspaper about it.

Five days later in Galloway, I saw another crazy thing.  I did my banking and then walked about 500 feet, next door to the pharmacy.  On my way out, I saw a coworker in the CVS parking lot.  I was facing the bank as we spoke. Suddenly, from the first spot in the TD Bank's lot, a white Nissan Versa burnt rubber as it peeled-out, in reverse.
THE  SHINY, VERSA I SAW, LOOKED LIKE IT JUST CAME OFF THE SHOWROOM FLOOR.

I was certain that I was seeing the get-away from a robbery as a continuous plume of smoke, like in the movies was produced by the spinning tires.  But when the car's arched path reached the point that it could proceed in drive, it continued screeching backward, in a circle.  Still in reverse, the Nissan jumped the curb, knocked over a four-foot high decorative lamp and sped on the grass.  It finally stopped inches from the shrubberies in front of bank's huge, customer service window.

I took a deep breath when I figured that someone had lost control of their car.  But then I thought it was a robbery again when the car was floored a second time, forward.  I re-re-changed my mind when the car bounced off the grass and onto the lane that leads to the drive-through section.  But as soon as all four wheels hit that pavement, the driver made a sharp left turn, climbed the curb again and hurled itself back towards the same window.

Luckily the car stopped before crashing into the building.  A man from an armored car delivery (in a bullet-proof vest and his hand on his gun) ran to the thoroughly cracked-up vehicle.  Then a UPS truck zoomed onto the scene.  I was third to arrive as the UPS guy called 911. The stunned driver looked like she was in her eighties.  I didn't see any mention of it in the newspaper.

These mishaps coincidentally occurred at the same time (last week) that I was trying to locate JSS, a long lost friend, on Facebook.  The coincidence was that I was with her, in 1977 when I had a close call with a potentially serious car accident.

Facebook has drawn me closer to many friends from the past.  At first, there is the usual skyrocket period of wonderment.  I love the positiveness of this personal interaction and the reminiscence of shared highlights.  These cyber meetings have led to several face-to-face visits.  I'm happy to say that they have all worked to rekindle lost friendships

Of course, not all these old friendships were founded on solid foundations to begin with.  Therefore, the novelty wears thin when your "friend" speaks about people you don't know.  Then you really know you're going nowhere when the other person complains.  Hell, we get enough at that home.  If you still manage to stick with them, the next major roadblock...especially at my age, is when health problems and medical procedures dominate the chats. 

I must admit, getting beyond this point is rare. Even with the best intentions, the great remembrances are usually limited so the overwhelming amount of these revivals lose momentum soon after you've seen all of each other's photos. 

If somehow your computer relationship is still fresh, then you have to watch out for the next negative phase.  That is when you realize that your partner's best contributions are reduced to spiritual slogans, politics, their "like" of Prell Shampoo, reminders of dead celebrity birthdays or a seemingly endless stream of jokes.  If you're still on the fence whether to "unfriend" them, it becomes easier if their most significant messages involve Farmville, Mafia Wars, Scrabble or Angry Bird conquests.

I am hoping that my latest FACEBOOK friendship with JSS doesn't fizzle out quickly. Every July for the last four years, I have tried to get a birthday message to her.  I had researched a bunch of our mutual friends and acquaintances but oddly none of them knew how I could get in touch with her.  After my armpit check revealed me to be in the "safe-zone," I figured there was a some conspiracy or better yet, she was in the Witness Protection Program. 

This year I did my usual July birthday check and I found that she had joined Facebook.  So far we've only gone as far as friending each other.  Soon, I expect that we will skyrocket through our strongest memories then hopefully maintain a lasting friendship. Perhaps a face-to-face reunion too.

I remember meeting JSS at CHARLIEOPERA's 1976 New Year Eve party.  She got sick and her sister and their friends had to take her home.  Afterwards, we knew the same people and became friends.  We had several fun times and on one occasion, I drove her deep into the heart of Flatbush, to Brooklyn College, (she went to a different college).

For those of us with *Kingsmen maroon and gold blood coursing through our veins, we can remember the nightmare of parking at Brooklyn College, (a spot, ten long blocks away was considered decent). 

*How bourgeois can you get?  Somewhere between 1977 and now, the powers that be changed the BC mascot from the Kingsmen to the Bulldogs.
ESTABLISHED IN 1930, BROOKLYN COLLEGE WAS ONCE CONSIDERED; THE POOR MAN'S HARVARD.  IT'S MOTTO; NIL SINE MAGNO LABORE, "NOTHING WITHOUT GREAT EFFORT," SEEMED DATED BY THE TIME I PERFECTED MY BACKHANDED FRISBEE TOSS, ON THE QUADRANGLE, (above).  EVEN STRANGER, (I CHOKE ON MY OWN BILE AS I TYPE THIS), IN 2003, THE PRESTIGIOUS PRINCETON REVIEW RATED THE BC CAMPUS AS THE #1 MOST BEAUTIFUL IN THE COUNTRY.  P. S. IT SEEMS FUNNY TO ME BUT RECENTLY, BC ADDED DORMITORIES.  SO I'M SURE THE PARKING SITUATION IS FAR WORSE.
JSS and I got off to a miraculous start on this near-fatal day, by finding a parking spot one block from Midwood High School, at the corner of East 24th and Glenwood Road, (two blocks from BC).
MIDWOOD ON BEDFORD AVENUE, OFF GLENWOOD ROAD, WAS BUILT BY THE WORKS PROJECT ADMINISTRATION (WPA) IN 1940,  (IT PRACTICALLY TOUCHES BROOKLYN COLLEGE). THE H-SHAPED HIGH SCHOOL FEATURES SIX IONIC COLUMNS AND A GEORGIAN CUPOLA.  SOME OF THE ALUMNI I'VE HEARD OF INCLUDE; WOODY ALLEN, EMMANUEL LEWIS AND DIDI CONN FROM SHOW BUSINESS, AUTHOR ERICH SEGAL, ASTRONAUT MARTIN J. FETTMAN AND CONGRESSMAN STEPHEN J. SOLARZ.

My back was turned to the intersection, at that fateful moment as I got I out of my car.  A two-tone blue Ford Maverick (I remember because light blue on dark blue was my high school's colors) ran the stop sign and there was a crash behind me.  The other wrecked car careened towards me.  It all happened too fast to react. When I turned around, the crash and ugly scraping metal sounds were over as the crippled heap stopped three feet from me.

I wonder if JSS remembers?  Maybe I'll ask her while we are still in the FACEBOOK skyrocket mode.  Or during the personal interaction or I'll save it for the reminiscence.  Because she saw the whole thing. 

It's hard to forget that if that moronic Maverick driver was going a little faster, I might have gone to my grave without ever witnessing a car accident...even the one that killed me.

Monday, July 9, 2012

THE ICEMAN COMETH

I think the old, "TWILIGHT ZONE," was overrated.  Yes, creator/head writer Rod Serling deserves tons of accolades and yes this classic ranks #26 on the TV GUIDE 50 GREATEST TV SHOWS list but it doesn't hold up today. 

I'm not saying "the zone" wasn't thought provoking in its day and I'm not saying I don't like seeing the fledgling celebrities who used the show as a springboard to success and I'm not saying that I don't have a solid five favorite episodes that I would watch over and over.  But what I am saying is, other than those five, nearly all the rest, for my taste, are tedious.
THE "TWILIGHT ZONE" WAS AN ANTHOLOGY SERIES THAT FOCUSED ON ORDINARY PEOPLE IN EXTRAORDINARY SITUATIONS...COMPLETE WITH IRONIC TWISTS.  ITS THEMES TOUCHED ON FANTASY, HORROR, MYSTERY, SCI-FI AND THRILLER.  THE SHOW HAD A 156 EPISODE RUN,  FROM 1959-1964.

I would expect TV purists to be disappointed in my assessment.  They might argue that THE TWILIGHT ZONE was a forerunner of modern science fiction and that the genius of the stories made viewers think and re-think the boundaries of reality. But I think the same people would agree that its cutting edge subject matter, (influenced greatly by the Cold War, space race and threat of a nuclear holocaust) was inexpensively produced in black and white and is now passe.  Even worse, when all the shows are closely examined as a whole, the same concepts wrapped differently (like surviving the cataclysm) are often repeated.

Maybe the same people who are disappointed in my opinion of the Twilight Zone also believe that a real cataclysm with the potential to end the world as we know it, will destroy earth later this year, (December 21st). 

Doesn't this doomsday prophecy, (stemming from the end of the Mayan calendar) sound like great fodder for another Twilight Zone episode.  Those that do believe that the end is upon us, point to the crazy weather and claim that it is an omen to our planet's demise.
IF I WAS GOING TO MAKE A NEW TWILIGHT ZONE EPISODE BASED ON THE MAYAN END OF THE WORLD PREDICTION, I'D CALL IT, "THE ICEMAN COMETH." IT WOULD OPEN WITH SERLING DOING ONE OF HIS FAMOUS ON-CAMERA PREFACES... LIKE, "THERE IS A FIFTH DIMENSION BEYOND WHICH IS KNOWN TO MAN.  IT IS A DIMENSION AS VAST AS SPACE AND AS TIMELESS AS INFINITY.  IT IS THE MIDDLE GROUND BETWEEN LIGHT AND SHADOW, BETWEEN SCIENCE AND SUPERSTITION AND IT LIES IN THE PIT OF MAN'S WORSE FEAR AND THE SUMMIT OF HIS KNOWLEDGE.  THIS IS THE DIMENSION OF IMAGINATION.  IT IS AN AREA WE CALL, THE TWILIGHT ZONE."

My Twilight Zone would maintain the paranormal, futuristic characteristics of the original.  It would also concentrate on disturbing events and conclude with a penetrating message.

The show would open by establishing that currently, Mother Nature has been hammering the globe with tsunamis, monsoons, earthquakes, the melting of the polar icecaps etc.  The story would then zero-in on my neighborhood.  The character's opening dialog would lay the foundation of the recent mayhem caused by devastating weather pattens and dwell on my son Andrew's high school graduation, (June 7th). Then via flashbacks, we go back to that event and see thousands of spectators crammed in and around the aluminium bleachers that surround his school's football field.
REMINISCENT OF A TORNADO, THE OMINOUS CLOUDS ABOVE THE GRADUATION CEREMONY PRODUCED A REAL, LIFE THREATENING, ELECTRICAL HAIL STORM THAT SPRANG-UP FROM A BENIGN FORECAST.

Due to the disintegrating weather conditions, the ceremony is sloppily rushed along. Then within seconds of the last graduate receiving their diploma, the suddenly obvious, massive storm rips through the proceedings. Like a Hollywood production, giant, dense raindrops fly horizontally before morphing into hail stones. The panicky crowd is pelted by the painful pings and drenched in seconds as they make a chaotic dash for the log-jammed exits.  Luckily lightning wasn't a factor but still, in the early stages of this twenty-minute ordeal, people were knocked down, trampled and had seizures.
IT LOOKS LIKE THE ICE MAN HAS ALREADY COMETH...BUT NO, THAT'S THE REMNANTS OF THE HAIL STONES, IN MY GARDEN,  IN THE AFTERMATH OF  THIS EDITION OF NATURE'S FURY.

The episode's next scene is another flashback three weeks later, on June 29th. In my house, during a family conversation, we mention that the forecast calls for a ten percent chance of scattered thunderstorms.  But our dog Roxy has better hearing.  The camera notices that our poor puppy is becoming increasingly antsy before we perceive the menace of distant rumblings.  Within a short time, there is a cloudburst and my community is again besieged by a terrifying storm.
LOOK AT THAT BEAUTIFUL FACE, LIKE THE TRUE EDELBLUM THAT ROXY IS, THE ONLY EXTRA SHE REALLY WANTS OUT OF LIFE IS, PEACE AND QUIET.

My family, our house's interior, the exterior property and power systems were mercifully spared by this  two-plus hour train wreck from the sky. But poor Roxy was inconsolable.  In fear of the prolonged claps of thunder and whistling 80MPH gales, she kept trembling, pacing and panting long after the storm passed.

When the storm subsides, this episode moves to "real" time as my wife Sue, in a light drizzle, peels some of the matted-down leaves from her windshield.  At 3:AM, she inserts the GOLDEN EARRING CD, "CUT," and innocently goes to work.
THE DUTCH HARD ROCK BAND, "GOLDEN EARRING" HAD ONLY ONE  #1 RECORDING  IN THE USA.  FROM THEIR "CUT" ALBUM IN 1982,  IT WAS "TWILIGHT ZONE."

CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW TO HEAR THIS HAUNTING SONG.  I IMAGINE IT TO BE THE BUFFER MUSIC DURING MY EPISODE'S OPENING AND CLOSING CREDITS.

http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=twilight%20zone%20golden%20earring%20site%3Ayoutube.com&source=web&cd=3&ved=0CDsQtwIwAg&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DirZi18VR31M&ei=JIb5T_KKHPS60QHu_aXBBg&usg=AFQjCNFn_gSq8ZB0i0mWdMFQKdYct11kqA

Off our street, Sue is soon surprised by the widespread damage.  In the true sense of the Twilight Zone, she is alone on the road and the lights are all out.  The streets are littered by fallen branches.  It's like navigating through an obstacle course.

The adjacent city is bucolic Absecon.  This town, old enough to boast descendants from the Mayflower was particularly hit hard.  It was there that Sue encountered her first other car.  Through her wet, leafy windshield, she thought this driver was drunk.  On Route-9, he not only veered into the oncoming lane but his left tires went up onto the curb.  When Sue came to that spot, she was face to face with a stately oak that had smashed a fence, crushed an SUV and blocked nearly the whole street.

Her mind boggling odyssey continued as she saw telephone poles snapped like twigs and downed electric wires.  The eeriness hit its apex at the White Horse Pike.  All the traffic signals weren't working as she approached Route 30.  When she saw that the familiar neon of the usually busy thoroughfare was missing, Sue realized the gravity of the colossal, atomic bomb-like carnage.

The story fast-forwards a couple of days.  In daylight, my car radio announces that the staggering heat wave will continue.  The next reporter then says; this is the worst wind damage here since 1962.  A quarter million homes and businesses throughout Atlantic County (and beyond) are still without power. 

A roadblock then detours me through Absecon.  There is sadness everywhere.  It seems every other house is dealing with a gigantic, fallen tree. The "powerless" victims with chainsaws and the like, try to slice through their ruination as those without equipment, swelter in a trance of hopelessness.

Even now, six days later, plenty of friends, neighbors and stores are still in the dark.  It seems incredible but, we soon found out that towns twenty miles to the southeast were hit harder and going fifteen miles west were ravaged even worse. 

On June 30th, Andrew discovered that for himself when he arrived at Sears for work but they couldn't open without electricity, (however, associates brought emergency items to the mall's curbside and sold generators, saws etc., for cash only).

The abstractness of this Twilight Zone episode continues.  We had planned a backyard high school graduation party for Andrew on July 1st. Due to the hellish circumstances, we considered postponing the event when we learned that several of our suppliers were still not opened.  But the invitations were sent out and loved ones with busy schedules had committed to coming from North Jersey, Pennsylvania and New York. We decided to plow-on but we had to make some major, last-minute adjustments.  

On the night before the party, we opened our house to some of Andrew's friends so that they could sleep in air-conditioning.  In the morning, a couple of Sue's friends came to use our shower.  In the hours before the party, we were disappointed because many local invitees felt compelled to stay home because their properties were teetering on a bigger disaster. 

At the same time, I went to the newly reopened supermarket to buy ice.  The store manager told me it was like a Twilight Zone episode because customers charged the ice delivery van as if it contained gold.  She said that to stop the pushing and shoving, they sold their allotment straight off the truck.  Then tempers flared when the customers who weren't served were turned away.

I made some calls.  It seems storm victims who thought they still had a chance to save their food from rotting were buying up all the ice in the county.  That's when I was forced to call one of our long distance invitees,  ZYMBOT.  He lives a hundred miles away and had no idea that our calamity was of biblical proportion.  He agreed to import the ice.

Our guests began trickling in.  It was awkward on a 92 degree day to be stuck serving hot soft drinks and a minimal amount of cold food. Then like a knight in shining armor, our "cool" hero and his smiling wife FLOGLOW made their deliverance.  I wanted to bow to him and say; I am not worthy.  But I figured with my luck that I'd throw my back out.  So instead I just called him, "My savior."  Then someone in the crowd called out, "The Iceman Cometh!"

It would have been apropos for Rod Serling to end the episode by saying, "Suffering comes in many degrees.  While our planet readies itself for Armageddon, it doesn't matter if your pain was caused a hurricane named Katrina, an oil slick caused by BP or by a hurling asteroid the size of our moon.  All that matters, is conquering your fear, helping your neighbor and surviving...because, everyday...even crossing the street, is a Twilight Zone adventure."

What a coincidence, a few days after the party, (on the 4th of July), the SYFY NETWORK ran a Twilight Zone marathon. I was channel surfing and clicked on that station in the hope of randomly spotting one of my favorite episodes. Unfortunately, it wasn't one of my big five.  But in the short time I watched, I saw a post-cataclysm couple wandering around in an artificial neighborhood.  Everything is fake and there are no other people.  Soon the man spots a tree that he is convinced is real.  He envisions salvation and happily pounds the trunk.  In so doing, he topples the tree and reveals that its roots go no further than the two wooden planks that serve as its base. 

This past week, just like in that old Twilight Zone episode, I saw so many perfect trees ripped out of the ground by their roots. So maybe Rod Serling's vision is timeless after all and the Mayans knew what they were talking about too.  Perhaps the end is near?  December 21st, is less than six months away.

For the full affect, replay the "Twilight Zone" song now !

Monday, July 2, 2012

THE BEATINGS WILL CONTINUE UNTIL MORALE PICKS UP!

Sean Connery, in addition to being voted the greatest living Scot also took honors as, the world's sexiest man of the last century.  Much of his notoriety came from portraying James Bond.
SEAN CONNERY, A VETERAN OF TWELVE LESSER MOTION PICTURES HAD FATE AND SUPER STARDOM SHINE DOWN ON HIM IN 1962. THAT'S WHEN HE WAS CAST AS, MASTER SPY, JAMES BOND 007, IN, "DR. NO."  INTERESTINGLY, AUTHOR IAN FLEMING THOUGHT JAMES MASON WAS THE PROTOTYPICAL BOND BUT LUCKILY, FLEMING'S WIFE TALKED HIM INTO CONNERY.
The Bond persona allowed Connery to free himself of movies like 1959's, "DARBY O'GILL AND THE LITTLE PEOPLE" and cameos, like his performance in 1962's the, "LONGEST DAY."  Soon he became an iconic figure as another Fleming novel, "FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE,"  became a cinematic hit. Then sandwiched between my favorite Bond movie, "GOLDFINGER," and "THUNDERBALL," Connery oddly stepped way out of his jet-set character profile to appear in an unspectacular movie.
THE BEST LINE IN "GOLDFINGER" IS WHEN 007 IS ABOUT TO BE CUT IN HALF WITH A LASER BEAM.  BOND SAYS," YOU DON"T EXPECT ME TO TALK."  GOLDFINGER SAYS, "NO MR. BOND, I EXPECT YOU TO DIE."

The vanilla film Connery chose was the far more cerebral (depressing) movie from 1965, "THE HILL."  ***SPOILER ALERT WARNING***
IN CONTRAST TO THE SPECIAL EFFECTS AND PYROTECHNICS OF THE BOND SERIES, THIS VIRTUAL UNKNOWN, "THE HILL," WAS PRODUCED IN  BLACK AND WHITE.  SET DURING WWII's NORTH AFRICA CAMPAIGN, THIS CLEVER THREE-STAR MOVIE CENTERS AROUND  AN ENGLISH "GLASSHOUSE," (A PRISON FOR THEIR OWN MISFITS),  IN THE LIBYAN DESERT.

Sean Connery's character is Trooper, Joe Roberts.  He is one of the new inmates sent to this ungodly hell-hole.  Unlike movies like, "THE DIRTY DOZEN," that portray same side military prisoners as murderers, rapists and head cases, this English stockade is not for hardened criminals.  These soldiers were convicted of service offenses like; insubordination, drunkenness, being AWOL and petty theft. Therefore, the goal is rehabilitation through discipline and regimentation, in order to return them to the front, to fight Germans.

The problem is, there are many ways to run a jail.  And when power is delegated to weaker individuals sometimes the privilege is abused.  We see this in big business where underlings do unscrupulous things to maximize profits to get ahead.  Politically, when a calculating eager beaver is put in charge, he has a chance to woo his beaten-down constituents with charisma, empty promises and propaganda.   Then once he gives them the impression of giving them what they want, he can seize greater power or money or self-importance.  A prime example would be Adolf Hitler.


THE SIGNATURE OF ADOLF HITLER,  (1889-1945).  HE ROSE TO POWER BY DANGLING THE "NEW ORDER" AND AYRIAN SUPREMACY TO THE DOWN-TRODDEN  POST-WWI GERMAN PEOPLE.

Trooper Roberts and four others are under the direct supervision of power hungry, Staff Sergeant Williams.  Williams ambition is to earn a reputation as a stern jailer that will translate into the kind of recognition that will land him a great career and universal respect in civilian life.  He fantasizes about becoming famous for being the only person with the talent to whip penitentiaries into shape.  In this dream, he travels throughout the British Empire to resurrect poorly run prisons.  Therefore, he is a man who feels that the ends justify the means and thus, he's willing to use any way necessary to get what he wants. 

A part of Williams' sick rationale is, excessive punishment.  He feels that beating his underlings down until they submit to his whimsy will make them ready for combat.  The punishment that he relishes is a man-made, two-story sand hill inside the compound.  The hill coupled with the oppressive desert heat was designed as a deterrent.  But Williams over uses this gimmick for minor infractions and tortures his men by drilling them with repeated marches up and down it, in full military gear.

Williams adds fuel to the men's unhappiness by changing rules without warning, taking away tiny benefits and making false accusations like; the men are stealing the King's money, time and resources.  He makes so many changes that new rules contradict the ones from the day before. The inability to heed these irrational regulations results in verbal abuse, corporal punishment, food deprivation and reduction in personal time. In a short time, these undignified tactics cause the men to lose their self-esteem. 

The men are ill-equipped to directly clash with Williams.  So rather than rebel, they seek assistance from more humane guards like, Staff Sergeant Harris, Regimental Sergeant Major Wilson and the camp's medical officer.  While these men all recognize Williams' sadism, they also see the possibility of higher authorities perceiving his methods as progressive.  Therefore, despite the obvious need for reform, they all have their own vested interest for not making waves.

One of Roberts' cohorts legitimately suffers from heat prostration and is sent to sick bay.  Williams visits the ailing man and demands, "Why aren't you smiling?"  The patient knows better and doesn't respond.  Williams then confronts the medical officer and demands that the malingerer is taking advantage of the system.

The weakened prisoner is returned to his cell. While the others are out, the sickly prisoner doodles in the dust, a caricature of a man chained to the wall with the caption, the beatings will continue until morale picks up. He is so exhausted that before he has a chance to erase this treasonable sentiment, he passes out.  When Williams realizes that the soldier is not with the others, he storms back to cell and sees the cartoon.

The ailing man is beaten with Williams' riding crop and ordered to put on his uniform and heavy back pack.  The entire camp witnesses this horror as the victim is forced up and down the hill until he collapses and dies.

Trooper Joe Roberts and his unified cellmates start a campaign to oust Williams with the help of the suddenly enlightened Sergeant Harris and Sergeant Major Wilson.  But the crucial medical officer is still under the Svengali-like power of Williams.  It's only when Williams threatens the medical officer to stay in line that he joins the plot.

A well thought out plan, complete with hard evidence and sworn affidavits is set in motion. The prisoners are thrilled to have survived but are forced to quash their excitement for justice while the bureaucratic millstone wheel slowly cuts through the military red tape.  In the mean time, Williams has no idea that his position is in jeopardy, so for him, it's business as usual. 

The prisoners would have related to Martin Luther King's statement; Free at last, free at last, free at last...thank God all mighty, we're free at last."  

MARTIN LUTHER KING (1929-1968) WAS GREATLY INFLUENCED BY MAHATMA GANDHI.  IN 1959, HE VISITED GANDHI'S BIRTHPLACE AND SAID, "SINCE BEING IN INDIA, I AM MORE CONVINCED THAN EVER BEFORE THAT THE METHOD OF NONVIOLENT RESISTANCE IS THE MOST POTENT WEAPON AVAILABLE TO OPPRESSED PEOPLE IN THEIR STRUGGLE FOR JUSTICE AND HUMAN DIGNITY."

On the morning that good news was made official, Trooper Roberts, Sergeant Harris and the medical officer stride across the peaceful compound to tell the rest of the men that Williams is getting arrested.  I'd like to think they were all singing, "DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD." 
IN 1939's, "THE WIZARD OF OZ," MARGARET HAMILTON PLAYED THE, "WICKED WITCH OF THE WEST," SO WELL, THAT HER PERFORMANCE EARNED HER THE DISTINCTION OF BEING ONE OF THE ALL-TIME GREATEST MOVIE VILLAINS. 

While the three heroes were harmonizing, Williams is inspecting the cell. One of the men is slow to respond to an order, so Williams sends him to the hill.  When Williams turns his back, the prisoner, overcome by frustration attacks the brutal bastard.  The fight is one-sided and none of the other prisoners come to Williams' aid.

Roberts, Wilson and the medical officer arrive in time to hear Williams is screaming for help. The crazed prisoner pauses.  Roberts waves a paper and yells, "Stop, we've won, we've won."  The prisoner absorbs the information and the slams Williams head on the stone floor several times until he is stopped...but its too late, Williams is dead.

Aren't you glad Sean Connery took time out of his busy James Bond schedule, to teach us all a valuable life skill.