I CAN'T REMEMBER WHAT HYPERTHYMESIA MEANS

Don't you hate walking into a room and having no idea why you went in. Earlier today, it happened to me. I went into my garage and stared at my pantry like a deer, frozen by oncoming headlights. In the hope of finding sudden inspiration, I scratched my head and hoped for a clue but it never came. Even a second glance at cling peaches in heavy syrup, Ikea brand light bulbs and a rusty can of WD-40 didn't help. Ten minutes later, I got little consolation when I was busy upstairs and remembered that I went into the garage for a screwdriver.

Don't be alarmed, little episodes like this are common. They don't represent the onset of senility or the early stages of dementia. They are normal brain spasms that can happen to anyone. In any case, these lost moments of bewilderment might be annoying to you but they really piss me off. You see, I have developed an image for having a great memory.

Down through the years, I have amazed my family, friends and acquaintances with this talent. Because of it, I have been honored with several nicknames. RBOY has dubbed me, "Instant Recall Edelblum." RW coined the moniker, "The Incredible Edelsteen" and "The Argument Ender"was presented to me by M "The Refrigerator" P. And let's not forget my original memory-driven nickname which goes back so far, even I can't recall who first called me, "The Storehouse of Useless Information."

My uber memory never rests. Recently, I even impressed myself by pulling the names of three forgotten people out of thin air. The first happened when I saw a man walking by at my job. Without hesitation, I called out his name. We exchanged pleasantries and old times. He then said, "I haven't been here in five years, how did you remember my name?" I told him the truth, "In this racket, its easy to remember the very good and the very bad...and you my friend, are very good."

Last week, another man came by and when we caught eye-contact, we shared an immediate, mutual regard. In a short time, I had a clear picture of who he was. I didn't remember his name but remembered his wife's name. After I recounted some details from our shared history, he told me that he hasn't seen me since his family moved to Arizona, seven years ago. I used that statement as a foot in the door to refer to his wife by her first name and ask if she was there. It's funny because when he brought her by, I wouldn't have recognized her in a million years.

A few days ago, a third man came to my roulette game. I was looking right at him and he didn't look familiar. So I stuck to the standard casino greeting during a buy-in. I said, "What can I get for you?" "Five dollar chips." "Yes sir, two hundred in nickels. Good luck." "Thanks." "Would you like to be rated?" "Nah."

Something about the way he said, "Nah," struck me. Every chance I got, I studied his face. But I was getting nothing. When he lost and bought in again, I concentrated on his voice. I wondered, was he a player I hadn't seen for a while, a relative of my son's friends, a long lost student or a someone from the neighborhood? I went forward with the notion that he was a long-lost coworker and engaged him in a more personal conversation. In no time, I had my answer because I recognized his voice.

I asked, "Does your last name start with an M?" He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "Yes." Does your last name have four letters?" He said, "Yes." I said, "You're Chris, you used to come here a lot..." Before I could finish my sentence he said, "I haven't been here for ten years."

He appreciated that I remembered him, his hometown and one of our old conversations, (the Cowtown Rodeo). Geez, maybe I could have made a better living as a memory expert. Of course, somebody who does that like The Amazing Kreskin, rely on parlor tricks but are still highly regarded as entertainers.

GEORGE KRESGE WAS BORN IN MONTCLAIR NEW JERSEY ON JANUARY 12, 1935. FOR PROFESSIONAL REASONS, HE LEGALLY CHANGED HIS NAME TO THE AMAZING KRESKIN, (T. A. KRESKIN IN CASINOS). BILLED AS A MENTALIST, THE HEIGHT OF HIS NOTORIETY WAS IN THE 1970's WHEN HE HAD HIS OWN TV SHOW AND APPEARED ON JOHNNY CARSON 61 TIMES.

Regardless of Kreskin's schtick, he made me laugh all three times he spoke to me in the casino. Every time he was walking fast past my table. I waved and said, "Hi Mr. K." With a big smile and a shrug he always said, "I can't remember where I parked?"

What if I was to tell you that there is something similar to a photographic memory called hyperthymesia. And unlike Kreskin, this phenomena is no gimmick. It's an ability for people to have nearly total recall to the significant moments in their lives...as well as tons of trivialities. Hyperthymesia is more widely referred to as, superior autobiographical memory and has only recently gained clinical acceptance.

Last Sunday, the TV show, "60 MINUTES, " did a fascinating expose on hyperthymesia.
"60 MINUTES," HAS BEEN A STALWART TV NEWS MAGAZINE ON CBS SINCE 1968. DURING THAT TIME IT HAS EARNED 75+ EMMYS AND TODAY, IS AS POPULAR AS EVER.

The show's producers found six individuals who fit the superior autobiographical memory criteria. These people were subjected to a battery of memory tests. These tests included specifics about random dates, categorizing events from the same date but from different years and even included what was worn, eaten, said, etc. One of the subjects was actress, author Marilu Henner.MARILU HENNER WAS BORN, MARY LUCY DENISE PUDLOWSKI, IN CHICAGO, ON APRIL 6, 1952. SHE IS BEST KNOWN FOR PLAYING ELAINE NARDO ON THE TV SIT-COM, "TAXI," FROM 1978-1982.

The 60 Minutes segment on Henner included her stating names, dates and complete dialogs of obscure TV commercials she appeared in. She also was asked to describe her thought process to mentally organize her memory data. She finished by taking a camera crew into her bedroom closet. She then rattled off the date she bought shoes and the date she first wore them.

Another subject was a Pittsburgh Steeler fan. He was asked to identify the last two times his team lost to the Redskins. After he succeeded, he was then asked to recall the score of their previous eighteen meetings...which he did within seconds. He even accurately recalled a 1979 player injury from a CBS broadcast. The network had archive footage of that game and ran it for the home viewers as he strolled down Memory Lane describing the most minute details.

This is a small sample of what these folks can do. To fully appreciate this talent/affliction you really need to see this piece for yourself. All I can say is, I came away convinced that they were not frauds. Even a scientist acting as an independent arbiter believed that when the subjects told him something that they were 99% right. He then hesitated and said, "No 100% right."

So if you were ever astounded by my memory or truly amazed by Kreskin, you'll be completely blown-away by this "60 Minutes" episode. Beyond the entertainment factor, researchers hope that perhaps someday, the roles will be reversed and those who don't have superior autobiographical memory will be considered the freaks of nature. On a grander scale, their true goal will be to discover a way to unlock this brain potential, to minimize or perhaps eliminate Alzheimer's Disease.

The next time you go to the grocery store for five items be sure to make a list, because you'll probably forget at least one thing if you don't write it down. Then when you get home, click on the two links below to check-out, "60 MINUTES," the "ENDLESS MEMORY," segment from December 19, 2010.

Please note that there are 2 parts, each about 14 minutes.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2zTkBgHNsWM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1th1fVIc8Vo

Just in case you already forgot, you can also find it on YOUTUBE.

THERE HAS NEVER BEEN COOTIES ON THE WALL AT MY HOUSE

The greatest dilemma of our generation is, what gift do you get somebody who has NOTHING and wants NOTHING?

Every holiday season this mystery crops up at my house and goes unsolved. I know this to be true because I am that somebody who has nothing and wants nothing. Family members and friends have sincerely tried to crack this case. Despite these failures, each year I still get inundated with different versions of their perception of my needs while my attic overflows with a plethora of uselessnesses.

To avoid being called an ingrate, I'm forced to humbly accept a multitude of tripe which are; upgrades of things I'm already satisfied with, clothes I won't wear and do-dads that I have absolutely no interest in, such as the mushroom brush fiasco of 2002.

A kind person close to my heart thought my love of mushrooms was going to explode into a thousand gastric orgasms when I was presented with a cleansing implement for my favorite edible fungi. Unfortunately, I recognized this kitchen gadget's lack of practicality and blurted my opinion. I was then vilified for coining the phrase, "I'd rather have the $2.99." Five years later however, I was proven to be right, we sold that bad boy at a yard sale...unopened in its original package, for a quarter.

If we trace back its roots, you'll see that I was not born with a trait for being difficult, it was learned, from my environment.

When I was five, TV commercials for a toy space station saturated kiddie programming. I coveted this baby and made sure I got the word out to Santa. Mr. Claus debated the worthiness of this contraption with his North Pole research team. When it was proven to fit down a standard chimney and discovered to be non-toxic...this Everest of playthings was left with one major hurdle; could a kindergartner poke his eye out with it? The argument raged well into the eleventh hour until Santa deemed it safe. So I got hooked-up.

Problems arose when the space station was attacked by the infamous Pencil-Necked Pin-Heads from the third moon of planet Xenon. Which means, I bashed this chintzy piece of plastic crap to smithereens within an hour of setting eyes on it. Despite my explanation of, "I saw it fly on TV," Kris Kringle made it clear that you don't throw big ticket items down the basement steps.

He then started a bland "lack of appreciation" themed lecture. He continued with only a trace sternness, "I had a lot of trouble getting that for you. Even me, good old St. Nick won't have access to a GPS for another forty years." Then as his emotion finally set in he closed with, "Me, Rudolph, Blitzen and Prancer were burnt-out early while taking the (expletive deleted), sleigh through a complex path to the last (expletive deleted) space station left in the (expletive deleted) universe. Moreover, he made it clear that in addition to needing thirty-two, 8-volt batteries, it took an inordinate amount of elf-hours to assemble...at a time when the brethren at the elf union were getting, double time and a half.

After I shrugged off the speech, I continued playing with the space station's splintered carcass. When Mrs. Claus saw how much fun I was having, she realized that laying the guilt-trip was not Santa's forte. She stepped in and as always, her expert use of this gimmick was deft, direct, seamless and everlasting. Like getting hit with a slushy snowball between the eyes, the effectiveness of her loud, embittered sarcasm was breath-taking. I suffered through her seemingly eternal verbal onslaught until my last iota of holiday spirit eroded away. But she did not stop. Mrs. C. would not be satisfied with me serving mere penance...she needed me to be scarred for life.

To protect my sensitivities and to avoid the possibility of future humiliation, I found it easier to NEVER want trendy items like; Mr. Machine, Mighty Matilda or the Combat board game, ever again.
IN 1960, IDEAL TOYS INTRODUCED THIS HI-TECH MARVEL. IN ADDITION TO SEEING MR. MACHINE'S INNER WORKINGS, HE COULD WALK AND MADE RINGING SOUNDS. DUE TO MRS. CLAUS' TONGUE LASHING, I NEVER INCLUDED THIS MUST-HAVE TOY ON MY WISH LIST. THESE DAYS, YOU CAN BUY AN ORIGINAL ON THE INTERNET FOR ABOUT $135.00.

My friend HJ had REMCO's aircraft carrier, "MIGHTY MATILDA." I can still recall its cool jingle set to, "WALTZING MATILDA." I was so jealous that when I went to his house that was all I wanted to play with. I even fantasized about it when I wasn't there. At about the same time, a moronic kid on my street intentionally swallowed a dime, nickel and a penny, (I told you he was a moron). Mrs. Claus made a big deal over this genius's hospitalization and tracheotomy. So when I considered all of Matilda's small pieces, it became a double no-brainer, to not ask for one of my own.
IN RETROSPECT, I COULD HAVE LIVED WITHOUT THIS ONE. THE PHOTO DOESN'T NEARLY MATCH THE 50-YEAR GRAND PICTURE OF IT IN MY MIND.

When I got a little older I really wanted the, "COMBAT," game. While playing it at another friend's house, my imagination ran wild as I invisioned my chest full of medals after heroically rescuing my buddies, single-handedly, from German Stalags.
THE GAME WAS BASED ON THE 1962-1967 TV SERIES, "COMBAT." I WISH THEY WOULD SHOW RERUNS BECAUSE I RARELY SAW HOW THEY ENDED...IT AIRED FROM 7:30 TILL 8:30, AT A TIME WHEN I WENT TO BED AT 8:00.

I wasn't the only kid who learned the hard way, not to expect much at the holidays. Apparently comedian Redd Foxx did too. He had a routine that included this line, "We were so poor that every year on Christmas Eve, my father would go outside. Then he'd loudly rattle and crash the garbage cans in the alley for my brothers and sisters to hear. Then he come in and and say that Santa was mugged and all our toys were stolen. After a few years of that, you just knew you weren't getting SHIT!"

So if you're struggling to find just the right present for me...forget it. I know that gift giving is a road paved with good intentions but please, don't bother. Do us both a favor and never confuse my love for cashews with a need for a cashew dispenser. And that cable-knit sweater imported from Scotland with the picture of the Loch Ness Monster...I can live without it. And most definitely, that two-year subscription to the Chia Pet of the Month Club would be wasted on someone with a limited acumen...such as my self.

What I really want is, peace on earth, an end to world hunger and a lifetime pass when they open a HOOTERS on my street. While such lofty desires might be out of your reach, I'll gladly settle for your continued readership of, "MORE GLIB ThAN PROFOUND." And if you want to get fancy, you can sprinkle on more criticisms, insights and/or encouragement.

BUT WAIT ! If you are ever in a retro-toy store...there was one other toy I dared not ask for because Mrs. Claus said it would mark-up her walls. I don't remember its name but it was from the early 60's. I did some computer research and checked vintage toys on the computer and EBAY. But I was armed with only a vague description and came up empty.

The outer shell of this hallow, plastic toy was the size of a baseball. It looked like a bug and had a pull-string mechanism attached to a series of suction cups hidden underneath. The idea was, you would hold it on a wall, pull the string and the bug would walk up.

So there, now you have something tangible that I don't have...and actually want. Don't worry, if you can't come up with the goods, I promise not to yell at you and make you feel so inadequate that you 'll require years of intense therapy.

Okay, I'll compromise with you, I'll settle for this toy's name, (HINT- I THOUGHT IT WAS A COOTIE...BUT I WAS WRONG).

IF AN E.T. LANDED ON AVENUE N, IT'D STILL HAVE TO WALK TWO BLOCKS TO P.

Did you ever notice that UFO's are never reported in Brooklyn? Its obvious to me why...those folks can't be bothered. My fellow Brooklynites know that if a weird civilization with inter-galactic capabilities from beyond Pluto had the technology to come that far, they would have already annihilated us for our resources. Or on the up side, they would've shared their profound knowledge with us to make this the ultimate party planet.

Whether you outsiders like it or not, what makes Brooklyn people tick is realism. We have too much going on and so much more on our mind to worry about mother earth being colonized and enslaved by the malevolent tulip people from planet Xenon.

This concept of realism is supported by Brooklyn's rigid perpendicular grids of numbered streets, (1 to 108) and lettered avenues, (A to Z) that dominate the borough. This system makes even more sense because as an example, house numbers off Avenue D...the fourth letter of the alphabet are in the 400's and houses numbers on avenues start with the previous cross street's prefix, like 9822 coming after 98th Street.

I grew up in the Canarsie section of Brooklyn, on 103rd Street at Avenue N. Our address was in the 1300's because the preceding avenue, M, is the thirteenth letter. On the adjacent avenue, those address prefixes started with 102. Therefore, the straightforward approach to addresses is an important for a Brooklynites need for realism. So no matter what kind of wackiness I hear involving the Bermuda Triangle, Big Foot, Killer Crabs of the Canary Islands or some such nonsense, you should never be surprised by my, "seeing is believing," attitude. Plus, these convictions are consistent with tangible things as well as ethereal matters.

Some people might consider me boring when I shrug off their spacemen theories. When they scoff at me, my response always is; maybe you're right, but some things I have to see for myself. Besides that my mother taught me; its okay to be the only one out of a hundred to disagree with something. And if you truly think you are right, you should stick to your guns at all cost. However, you should realize that in a situation like that you are probably wrong. And when you are proven to be wrong, stand up, be a man and admit you were wrong. I try to be fair and look at most lopsided arguments from both points of view. I also try to pass-on that independent mindset to my son Andrew...so far, he, (not being a Brooklynite), has achieved less than stellar results.

I was using that sticking to your guns idea before entering my adolescence. While my peers were influenced by 1950's science-fiction movies, I never ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. Because these films weren't a threat, they were nothing more more than spooky or silly entertainment.

WHEN I WAS EIGHT, A FRIEND HAD A COMIC BOOK WITH A GIANT HYBRID DINOSAUR EAGLE RIPPING THE EARTH IN TWO ON THE COVER. IT WAS A REALLY COOL PICTURE BUT I COULDN'T FIND IN ON THE INTERNET.

In my teens, most of my Brooklyn friends and I were at peace with the notion that we weren't getting invaded from space. There were no marauding Martians attacking any time soon, intelligent extraterrestrials were non-existent and UFO's were nothing more than typos. Nevertheless, even a cynic like me can look up at an endless tapestry of stars and be inspired by its beauty and infinite possibilities.
WE TOOK MY SON TO THE AEROSPACE MUSEUM AT THE SMITHSONIAN INSTITUTE WHEN HE WAS THREE. HE LOVED SEEING THE COLORFUL PLANET DISPLAY. WHEN HE WAS SEVEN, WE TOOK HIM TO THE STOCKTON COLLEGE OBSERVATORY WHERE HE SAW SATURN THROUGH A TELESCOPE. IT DIDN'T THRILL HIM BECAUSE THE REAL THING WAS AN ODD-SHAPED WHITE DOT. ON THE OTHER HAND, THE REALITY THRILLED ME.

I may not think there are Saturnites coming to eat our flesh but I have a deep appreciation for celestial bodies, our solar system and all of outer space. So much so that I couldn't wait for the 1973 arrival of the comet Kohoutek. Ballyhooed in the press as the, "comet of the century," it was commercialized, merchandised and advertised to be the greatest show "over" earth since Halley's comet.
VISIBLE FROM EARTH WITH THE NAKED EYE, HALLEY'S COMET IS THE MOST FAMOUS OF ITS KIND. THIS ONCE IN A LIFETIME SPECTACLE WON'T REAPPEAR UNTIL IN 2061. IT CAME AND WENT IN 1986...I DON'T RECALL HOW I MISSED IT?
Comet Kohoutek preceded Halley's big 1986 show by 13 years. It was reported that in New York City, the best night to see it would be March 7th. So my friends and I chose the top of the Kings Plaza Mall's parking garage to see it. THE KINGS PLAZA MALL OPENED IN 1970. IT WAS THE FIRST OVER SIZED, INDOOR SHOPPING MALL IN THE METROPOLITAN AREA.
We decided to make it an all night affair. We met in Sheepshead Bay, at the Pizza Bowl Restaurant on Avenue X for dinner. Afterwards, it was a short drive through Marine Park to Kings Plaza on Avenue U. It was with great expectation we reached the roof. However, the colossal building's bright lights hindered the show but far worse, even if it was pitch black, the thick cloud cover made the comet's humongous event, a dud.

To dull our senses after the big Kohoutek disappointment, we drove to the Chesterfield Lounge on Avenue H, in Flatbush. Over cocktails, our conversation switched from the comet to aliens. I was the only one who didn't believe that little green magma-spitting humanoids with oblong heads would strafe our planet in the immediate future.
Later, we split up. A bunch of people went home but me and three others ended the night at the Copper Penny (a Denny's type restaurant) on Avenue R in East Flatbush. Over cinnamon Danish and coffee, I continued my argument that red midget ramrod-shaped robots from Uranus weren't preparing to do a drive-by shooting of earth. "Yes," I added, "the cosmos is beautiful to look at and to ponder its possibilities...I'll even concede that there maybe something, or somebody out there...but I guarantee they won't be causing mayhem or melting the earth and drinking its nectar anytime soon.
One friend said, "C'mon, you never thought, even for one second..." I interrupted, "Well, yes I did." I told them in 1970, I had a girlfriend from Bensonhurst. One moonless night, we saw a movie on Kings Highway. After a snack at the Chock-Full o'Nuts lunch counter restaurant, we took a walk along the less congested Avenue P. Through the trees, she pointed out an unusual object in the sky. We ran out into the street for a clear view. She called it a flying saucer. I was thinking; no way, because these things don't really happen but I was too enamored to call her crazy. My opinion was getting swayed her way fast because this was NOTHING that I ever saw or could explain. With a silent gulp, I wondered if the fate of our world might depend on a couple of fifteen-year olds sounding an alert.
We became transfixed on the distant, high sky. The craft had an irregular strip of lights flashing along its bottom. In the blackness, we couldn't discern where this monstrous ship started or ended. We looked for help but at that hour there was nobody to share our discovery. So we just stared up at it in awe as the potential armada of lethal androids crept closer.
A lady walking her beagle puppy came up from East 13th Street. We stopped her and showed her our finding. She was equally puzzled at first but when the dog started barking and pulling her along, she shrugged, "I gotta go to work in the morning, so you two astro-nuts oughta get over it. Besides, kids your age should be home at this hour."
BEFORE SHE LEFT, THE WOMAN KNELT DOWN AND STROKED HER PET'S HEAD AND SAID, "IF ANY OUTER SPACE BASTARD MESSED WITH MY SLUGGO, THERE WOULD BE NO PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE THEY COULD HIDE...I'D KILL 'EM !"
A few minutes later, the menacing juggernaut became more defined when it was almost over head. It was a cigar-shape and the flashing red lights were running across the width of the narrow underbelly. That's when my girl turned around and said, "Those are letters...upside down!" I turned and read along with her, "C-O-M-I-N-G S-O-O-N G-R-A-N-D O-P-E-N-I-N-G K-I-N-G-S P-L-A-Z-A M-A-L-L."
I've never encountered anything stranger than that advertising blimp, so I rest my case...we're safe. But if you really want to be laughed at, tell someone from Brooklyn you didn't show up for their party because you were abducted by aliens.IF YOU FORGET YOUR HUSBAND'S BIRTHDAY, DON'T TELL HIM VENUSIANS IMPLANTED AN INTER-DIMENSIONAL TRANSPORTING DEVICE INTO YOUR SKULL...YOU'LL NEVER HEAR THE END OF IT.

All that really matters is, in Brooklyn, if aliens land on Avenue N and survive the street toughs, the aggressive drivers and the high volume of sarcasm, they'll still have to walk two blocks to P.

NATIVITY vs NEGATIVITY

We are bombarded with bad news every day. Even during the holidays, we are constantly reminded that the economy is tanking, unemployment is soaring, the future of health care is unsettled, the fabric of America's way of life is challenged by threats of domestic terrorism, tensions in the Mid-East seem like they'll never end, plus our military is being picked-off one by one in far off outposts in Iraq and Afghanistan...and if that wasn't enough...North Korea is now flexing its bullying muscles too. But somehow, this past Friday, just five miles away, I received an unexpected moment of calm that translated into the greatest gift of all, hope. This nice surprise happened at the Shoppes of Historic Smithville, (New Jersey)...when I "high-fived" Santa Claus.

Santa's early December arrival has been a Galloway Township tradition for years. Recently, the historic Towne of Smithville has been the honored host. But what is Smithville and what makes it historic?

Its earliest prominence relates to the Revolutionary War. At a time when Philadelphia, (60 miles west) was occupied by the British, colonial privateers/smugglers used Smithville's nearby Little Egg Harbor River to sneak in goods.

After the war in 1787, the Smithville Inn opened as a single-room stagecoach stop. Over the years it expanded several times and in 1952, it and seven adjacent acres were bought by a local couple and converted into a restaurant. Soon, houses and other buildings of the Revolutionary period were bought elsewhere and transplanted on their property. These visionaries then restored the antique buildings for commerce and historic Smithville was born.

MY PARENTS LIKED TO TAKE US TO THE SMITHVILLE INN, ON OUR WAY TO ATLANTIC CITY IN THE MID-60's.

In the early 1990's, the town was going through a down turn. While the Smithville Inn remained the anchor, nearly all the other shops closed. Luckily, the village was bought by a progressive party and slowly but surely, dilapidated Smithville was resurrected. This success story combined an aggressive marketing strategy, a contemporary flavor to its early-Americana theme and a sizable expansion.

A RELAXING STROLL THROUGH ITS 60+ SHOPS ISN'T COMPLETE WITHOUT CHECKING OUT THE SWANS, GEESE AND DUCKS IN AND AROUND THE LAKE.

Today, distant visitors and locals are lured to town by the brick sidewalks and cobblestone lined streets that are packed with specialty shops, restaurants, bars, theaters, a bed and breakfast and so much more. For kids, a boardwalk surrounds the revitalized waterfront of Lake Meone that has a carousel, arcades, paddle boats and the famous Smithville Railroad.

WHEN SMITHVILLE WAS GETTING RESTORED, I REMEMBER "TRACY THE CONDUCTOR," AGONIZING FOR MONTHS OVER HARD TO FIND LOCOMOTIVE PARTS. IN THE MEAN TIME, MY THREE-YEAR OLD ANDREW OPTED TO LIVE THE LIFE OF HIS "THOMAS THE TRAIN," FRIENDS BY WALKING... MANY, MANY TIMES, EVERY INCH OF ITS VACANT RAILROAD TRACKS.

In addition to Smithville being an important destination for travelers on their way to the shore, golfing or the casinos, it has maintained its greatness by attracting huge year-round crowds to special events. The Irish Festival, Haunted Halloween, Independence Day Parade, Oktoberfest, May Fest and this past Friday's arrival of Santa are some of those highlights. TO WELCOME SANTA AND SPICE-UP THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT, THE LAKE AND ITS WHARF ARE LIT UP.

We took Andrew to see Santa come to Smithville, twelve years ago. And while the deeper significance of the occasion might be lost on four-year olds, the special experience of coming out after dark, freezing and seeing the spectacle, can last a lifetime.

This week, my son recreated this joy by being a part of the festivities. He appeared as Batman with a group of other characters employed by, "FAIRYTALE ENTERTAINMENT," to fluff-up the crowd before Santa and Mrs. Claus arrived.

IN OCTOBER AT A FAIR IN ABSECON, BATMAN SITED THE SLOPPINESS FACTOR AND ADVISED A RANDOM YOUTH TO THE ADVANTAGES OF ICE CREAM IN A CUP OVER A CONE.

Santa's arrival is aimed at younger kids however it is popular with children of all ages. On Friday night, many families, to assure easier parking, came early and had dinner somewhere in Smithville first. In preparation for the extravaganza, one of the parking lots had been cordoned-off. About an hour before hand, a semi-circle of people began to form outside the partitioned area. Then to entertain the waiting crowd, teenagers such as my son came into the circle, in character costumes. They all braved the 30 degree elements but Cinderella had it worst because she wore a sleeveless dress and open toed shoes.

IF YOU SQUINT, THAT'S SUE AND I REVELING IN THE RAUCOUS FUN FEST.

The characters were given a rock star reception as they created a party atmosphere by interacting with their adoring fans. In addition to Batman; Cinderella, Woody from, "TOY STORY" and Belle from, "BEAUTY AND THE BEAST," appeared. Other characters such as; Mickey Mouse, Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer were provided by another talent agency.

To the delight and relief of the masses, the ever-punctual Santa arrived exactly at 6:30. First, the scene was cleverly set-up as a distance siren alerted everyone that something special was about to happen. The blaring calling card turned everyone's attention through the barren trees to an intense, bright light. The alarm pierced the cold night air as it neared while baritone car horns added to the excitement. Silhouetted through the woods, a hook and ladder slowly came into view. The hordes were now primed and nearly delirious with anticipation. Just when you thought the noise level couldn't get louder, the crowd gave out an emphatic cheer as the fire truck turned into the lot.

Parents pointed skyward to the top of the fire engine's extended ladder. And there he was, the symbol of endless possibilities, lit by a spot-light, three stories up. To see that jolly soul perched so high together with Mrs. Claus, it was easy to get choked up by happiness as they waved to the thrilled mob below. The illusion of flight was completed when fire truck did a victory lap around the parking lot. It stopped at the far end. The crow's nest bucket was slowly lowered to street level. I was directly in front of them as a firefighter opened the safety gate and allowed Mrs. Claus out first then Santa. The frenzy got better as the Claus's meet-n-greet included shaking the multitude of multi-cultural mini-hands.

SANTA THEN EARNED HIS GLOBAL ICON STATUS BY LISTENING TO KIDS EXPRESS THEIR INNER MOST NEEDS AND THEN HE RESPONDED WITH MESSAGES OF POSITIVISM.

The climax of the evening came when the Claus's led the other characters into the mosh-pit-like crush of the audience. I got to watch my scion mingle with the kids, answer questions and pose for pictures.

THE CAPED CRUSADER POSED FOR COUNTLESS PICTURES AND MADE A GAZILLION NEW FRIENDS.

I was especially proud when a dad finished snapping some photos and whispered to his wife, "Batman is the nicest one (character)." I was already on cloud-nine with the worries of the world a million mind-miles away when I turned and came face to face with Mr. Kris Kringle himself. In a reflex action, I offered him a high-five and to my pleasant surprise, he responded enthusiastically. So whenever you compare the nativity to negativity, the holiday season, however you celebrate it, will always win out. Trust me, I had a smile the rest of the night and a real feeling of hope and optimism that should not wear thin for a long time.

The next morning, Andrew and the Fairytale Entertainment players got a related gig when they again joined forces with Santa and Mrs. Claus for the Smithville Inn's character breakfast.

TO ADD TO THEIR NOTORIETY, ANDREW'S CREW WAS INTERVIEWED BY A COUPLE OF NEWSPAPERS INCLUDING THE GOTHAM CITY PEE-POTTERS PRESS.

This sold-out breakfast included two seatings of 300 people. Santa's opened the proceedings with his usual announcement that he's having trouble getting down some chimneys. He reminded all the kids to limit the cookies they leave for him, to three. And always, please, please, please, NO OATMEAL!

When I saw Andrew's satisfaction at the end I said, "If Karl Marx ever entertained kids as a character, nobody would have ever heard of Communism." Then I added, "Hopefully, this success will spark additional work for you and your comrades." When Santa hears those pearls of wisdom, maybe he'll want to high-five me again.