EXERCISING CAUTION

I would eat two steaks in one sitting

I remember when I was so young I was moving. Any direction you pointed me in, I could handle it! “Joe, go upstairs and… “ was no challenge, I could do it. Getting out of bed, I’d just pop up and my feet hit the ground running. Even my mind, before resorting to this blogue was constantly being exercised.

My how I’ve changed.

Let’s face it folks, we all get old, and for good reason, we watch and listen to the younger generation and want to get out of here as soon as possible. They are inventing things that make life easy: except we are so set in our ways it ain’t easy! Life is presenting us with a whole new set of challenges. It all started with my smart phone. Once I got one of those things, I knew my time on Earth was up, that I would be just going through the motions from here on in.

Have you been on all fours lately?

move my what?

The other day I was cleaning out the filter in my pool, that means getting on all four limbs and working. First the knees start to hurt and then the back. Then it is time to get up! OH MY GOD! Get up! That now requires planning, and once you get into position, you still have to hope you go up OK. It reminds me of the old days when they televised the rockets into outer space. Gasses spewing from the rear we hope it all works and that the lift-off is A-OK!

Suddenly, I don’t give a crap about how fast I am going on the road in my car. I decided that if they wish to contend with a cranky old man, then bring it on. I see these young people, both sexes drive up behind me and want to nudge me out of their way, and if they get to close, I exercise caution and slow down even more. This notifies them that I am in control, and when I say we go faster, then: we go faster, or just blow caution to the wind and wait until we get to a point where you can pass me.

The other day #2 Son needed help moving a piece of furniture down the stairs. I got on one end and he got on the other, in the old days I’d be hauling the thing down by myself. Today I feel with my feet, slowly moving it down each step, praying I don’t trip on myself. There are more things laying on the floor in my house now, things that I will eventually get to but they will wait. Why? Because I dropped them and don’t feel like bending down to pick them up if I don’t want to. I figure I’ll probably drop something else nearby, and when I’m down there, I pick up the first object too.

No, I am not lazy: I do get out of bed. It is just that I now practice ‘Economy of motion’. My doctor, Dr. Haveaheart once asked me if I exercised. I said yes, caution. He said I guess that is a ‘No’. I guess he’s right.

LIFE WITH THE COWBOYS

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Growing up in the 1950’s there were many times my parents or aunts and uncles used phrases that gave me imaginary moments of interpretation. In other words, they would often describe something by using examples of something totally unrelated, but you got the sense. Of course there were some interpretations because of my age I could not translate. For instances…

I think his shoes were involved

Mom to her younger sister about some actor or celebrity: “He can park his shoes under my bed anytime”

???

At the age of 5, that had no sense to it at all, yet it left a lot of questions.

Why would someone leave their shoes under Mom and Dad’s bed?

And if they do, will I get to meet them?

How come it was always a man, not a woman?

How come Dad NEVER said it?

My grandma Frances had one she said in broken English. “OOOH Cowboy”

The people who lived down the block from us had a messy outside landscape, with garish drapes, and an unfinished carport. The door was usually wide open and kids running about. When Grandma came to visit, we would pass the house and grandma would say: “Oooh Cowboy?” She would then laugh a short chuckle.

Speaking of cowboys, that ran in the family, since Grandma’s son, my Dad used it to describe a bad driver, one who would cut into and out of traffic, weaving about the road as: “Driving like a cowboy.”

Then there is this one, once heard as a youngster while Dad was driving on Conduit Avenue in Brooklyn. Every time I see a bus I think of it. Dad is behind a bus, Mom is a little nervous, and says: “Anthony, don’t kiss the buses ass!” She would realize what she said and explain away where she heard it.

The sauce of my troubles

Mom was a truly great cook, extraordinary in all she did, except for one meal. When we were very young, 3 or 4 kids was a lot of mouths to feed and keep them from complaining. Rather than hear us complain about being hungry, she would rather hear us complaining about the food. We were poor, and although we didn’t get what was being served at the Waldorf, we ate nourishing meals and made with a lot of love. But the only dish I hated in those days was stew. Most moms made it with brown

Starving Armenians on TLW's side

gravy: mine made it with red sauce. To me, potatoes and green peas in red stew sauce was not to my liking, as it wasn't a pasta sauce but a red tomato gravy. I would pick out the meat to eat it and not eat anything else but the bread and butter that she put out, that being the only occasion I complained about the food. Now TLW (The Little Woman) tells me about that as a kid she had to deal with the starving Armenians who would gladly eat what she didn’t want to eat, and for me it was the Chinese. One particular conversation with Mom went like this:

I don't know, these Chinese don't look all that hungry to me!

“Ma, do you HAVE to make stew again? I hate stew!”

“Really? Well you just think about the poor Chinese children who would love it.”

“Well Ma, why don’t we send them the stew and we can eat something else?”

“Because I like stew, Ummm, so good!” She was really unlikeable when she did that to me. This went along with another conversation we always had.

“Ma, why do I have to throw out the garbage all the time, I hate it!”

“Because I said so, that’s why.”

Well, maybe I’ll make some nice stew tonight, and when I’m done, clean up and throw out the garbage. She'd be proud of me.

IT’S EASY EXCEPT FOR THE HARD WORK

Recently I had a tree removed from my front yard with the intentions of having my lawn guy come in and fix the lawn for me. But the more I thought of it, the less I liked the idea of someone doing my lawn from the dirt up and so I decided the hard work would do me some good.

Since the roots to the tree spread all over the lawn, the need to rethink the simplicity of redoing the lawn came into play and I decided I needed topsoil to build the level of the lawn a little higher so the roots would not show. A truck comes and dumps enough topsoil to resurface Yankee Stadium.

I look at two huge piles of topsoil, rich and black and high, hours high! What have I done? My smarter half says to run, as far away as possible, to flee the labor and sweat, not to mention the calluses and sore joints that will come with this project.

pretty much what it looked like

Suddenly, I feel like I’m on a stage, my front yard, and the neighbors are wondering what the old guy is up to. There I am, standing on this big mound of dirt, a shovel and a rake in hand, and not too far away, a wheel barrel, waiting for me. The wheel barrel is not to put dirt in, but for me to lie down and rest in after just a few shovels of spreading dirt.

As I climb to the top of the hill, I fully understand what it means when they say: “It’s lonely at the top.” But what I was hearing was: “It’s loony at the top.” Each rake of the dirt as I try to break down the hill makes me wonder if it is too late to run? The mound may be getting smaller, but the callus is indeed growing, quicker than the grass ever will.

Once I commit, I stay true to my word, and call #2 Son who comes along and helps. Finally the day comes when the lawn spreading is done, the blister is healing nicely and all is good, time to buy some fertilizer and seed. Ah, I’m going to the store unsupervised, TLW (The Little Woman) is busy! Be not afraid, Joseph, seed and fertilizer and you are home free. No big deal.

I go to Home Depot and wander into the gardening section, lost and looking like a child on 5^th Avenue looking for his mommy! I see the stacks of what looks like seed and fertilizer and go over and look. The bag says: “Lawn starter” sounds like a great name for seed and so I buy a nice big hefty bag of ‘seed’ and to feed and nourish the lawn, a nice big bag of fertilizer. They together must weight about 100 pounds and some young whippersnapper comes up and asks if I need help. “Nah, I got this!” I say. My forearms are about to fall off from the distance I have to go to the cashier and then to the car.

Arriving home I decide to pull out the spreader and get started on the lawn, I was almost there! Soon, the front yard would be a vast oasis of green and I being too cheap and stubborn, will have my lawn, just after I lay this stuff down. I decide to lay the seed down first and open the bag. Something is wrong! What the hell! I bought fertilizer, couched under another name and now I have to return the other bag and this time get seed. Damned!

I head back to Home Depot and look a little more carefully. It has been years since I bought products of this nature, and now they are all different. Nothing is what it is supposed to say it is! I ask this young lady who is putting out potted plants where the seed is kept, “you know, for growing grass?” The young lady doesn’t speak English and so the ads on the TV are worthless where they tell you to ask one of their many ‘experts’.

Finally this guy comes out and asks if I need help.

“Yeah, where are you keeping the starter grass seed these days?”

“Well, what kind of lawn do you have?”

“I don’t, I need to start one.”

“OK, we have Kentucky blue grass”

“Nah, it needs to be green, otherwise my neighbors will be coming over and asking questions.”

Pointing to a large bag of seeds he says: “Well this is a blend of 4 different types of seed, what is commonly used on Long Island.”

“Ah! Tricky, OK I’ll take it.”

I go home and this time I have seed, real honest to goodness seed. I open the bag and look in. It is colored! They now color seed! It is mixed in with the regular brown looking color: this is a bluish cast to it!

Well folks, I have laid down the grass seed, and the fertilizer, and in this heat I am watering it everyday at 6 am, noon and 6 pm, until one day I will see grass. I will say: “I did this, and I was dumb enough to do it!” I will also say: “I was too cheap to have my lawn guy take care of this project!”

Dumbass!

TAMMY

Spent my birthday in part at the movies. The movie, if you want to call it that was ‘TAMMY’, and here’s what I got.

The critics panned the movie, I would can the movie and leave it at the curb.  The only thing funny about this film was that it got to the big screen. What astonished me were the big names in the disaster such as: Dan Aykroyd, Kathy Bates and Susan Sarandon!

Tammy (Melissa McCarthy) is having a bad day. She’s totaled her jalopy of a car, gotten fired from her mundane job at a franchise burger joint, and when she goes home for some comfort finds her husband getting comfortable with one of the neighbors. This all happens in the first few minutes of the show, from there on in it goes downhill, faster than a truck loaded with my lunch and no brakes!

She has given up on her career?

There are some things you should never do: one of them is watch this movie. The dialogue was meaningless, pointless, and humdrum as was the plot as it went along. The far-fetched antics of both Grandma (Susan Sarandon) and Tammy as they travel was childish and simply had no real basis to make the movie funny, just stupid. The only movie that might be worst was ‘Hey Dude, Where’s My Car?’ It was the worst display of sophomoric humor that I have ever witnessed in real life, let alone the movie screen. The good thing about the movie is that you could choose to go to the toilet at any time and still not miss anything.

GO AWAY!

My suggestion is to heed my cry. Save hard earned money and go to the bathroom instead. You can always say you saw the movie and get away with it, since there was nothing to see, no one would want to relive the nonsense and even if someone does talk about it, it would be to say it sucks.

Thank you

The DelBloggolo movie critic.

I rate this movie: GMMMB (Give Me My Money Back.)

BREAKFAST AT IHOP

Every Sunday TLW (The Little Woman) and I go for breakfast. It has been going on for several years and is a ritual, it kind of starts off the week rather nicely. Usually it is a local diner, but to mix it up once in a while, IHOP becomes the choice of venue.

We are even in the process of making friends with the waitresses that serve us, and a greeting of: “The usual?” will be the case. Sometimes I go crazy and ask for pancakes, or an omelet if I’m really feeling wild. This usually shakes up the waitress, staring at me as she thinks: “How dare you shake me up so early in the morning? Eat what you are supposed to!”

There are certain criteria for me to enjoy breakfast. I hate if it is noisy, meaning I’m involuntarily listening to someone’s conversation, so I need to sit as far away from the chatter as possible if I can.  Yogi Berra in all his wisdom said it best: “No one goes there anymore, it is too crowded.” If things get too popular, I won’t go there anymore.

One of my pet peeves is as in any restaurant, no matter what the meal, is the waiter or waitress constantly asking if everything is OK. If it weren’t OK, I would be telling them. Stop asking until you hear from me. If you don’t, everything is OK.

What she looks like

Ever wonder: who works in the kitchens? Are they playing by the rules, washing their hands when they are by law supposed to? And the utensils, have you ever looked closely at them, then start reaching for new forks or knives because of spots?

What I'm hoping she'll look like!

I know, I’m a pain in the neck when it comes to eating. That is why at a Chinese or Asian restaurant, I always use chopsticks. Maybe I should try cutting a steak with chopsticks.  

LIFE IS FILLED WITH ODDITIES

Today is TLW (The Little Woman’s) birthday. She has reached the ripe old age of 39 and looks good for her age. That is because she is married to me. Please don’t make any cracks about her robbing the cradle; after all, she couldn’t resist me.

We have been a team going on 44 years of marriage, and aside from an occasional disagreement, have learned she is right and if she isn’t, she still is right, just from the sheer weight of my incompetence.

The decision-making has been split down the middle. She worries about the less important things like the household budget, raising the kids and how we spend the money, I decide on the important things like if we should recognize Red China, or how we stand on international trade agreements.

We are just one year and three days apart in our birthdays, and what she does for me makes it easy for me to know what to do for her. She forgets my birthday: well then I can forget hers, which is very hard for me to do. She has never forgotten mine for sure.

This is really a part of a gang of questionables.

But you know we are getting old when she says: “Joe, why don’t we go out for our birthdays, but NO presents, OK?” Yes that is what happens when we get older. Will I listen to her? Who knows?

She has been giving me a present everyday of our marriage: Four children, she is there when she knows I could use a lift, or just a kind word, and even a cup of tea. When the storm clouds open, there she is, right next to me, sometimes in front of me, we are never alone.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOTS! 

Life is good when you are there.

Love that old guy you live with!

WHAT THIS WORLD IS COMING TO

What is it with these energy efficient products on the market today, and the fact that TLW (The Little Woman) buys them and they don’t bother her, but boy, they sure bother me!

Take for instance, just one room in my house, the downstairs toilet. Now this is a very important room to me, on a daily basis. It is a pit stop, or was a decent reading room, and when I need water, a convenient place to get some when I’m too far away from the kitchen.

So what has TLW got to do with all this, and the wonderful confines of the downstairs toilet? Glad you asked.

A few years ago, when we redid the downstairs, (18 exactly, but whose counting?) we replaced everything including the toilet bowl, the ceramic throne. Some misguided Jessie James sold TLW on the idea of an energy efficient flush. Yes, save a lot of water with this baby. You press the handle and round and round it goes, not down with a gurgling gulp, but watch it spin. Everything is still floating and you are faced with dealing with it again! So you hold the key down longer the second time until it finally disappears. You have now probably tripled the amount of water you used to begin with, and you haven’t even washed your hands yet!

OK, so we made a mistake with this thing. Then one day, the light bulb goes, that sits over the sink in the same toilet. TLW replaces the bulb. I go in and turn on the light, no light! Then a slow glimmer of light starts out like a sunrise and I can see faintly, wondering if I have a cataract problem, am drunk or just losing it to old age. As the bulb starts to heat up, the light becomes stronger, until after some time, you can now see your nose. What is the sense of having that especially in the toilet, where a sports section in the newspaper doesn’t take as long to read as the bulb does to give me light?

While I’m in the toilet, let us talk for a moment about the toilet paper. I love to go out to hotels, motels and public places to use the toilet. In fact, if I could hold it long enough to get to one of these facilities instead of using the one at home: I get two-ply! Yes, that wonderful old-fashioned two plied toilet paper that once graced my toilet, which we no longer use. So I guess the two-ply is more expensive than the one-ply, but like that one sports newscaster used to say: “Let’s go to the tape” let’s go to the one-ply and we use twice as much in terms of inches. What have we gained? Don’t ask.

So at the end of the day we have a spinning one-ply in the dark.

THOSE I REMEMBER

It was 68 years ago today: I attended my first wedding. I was a year old and Mom and Dad were attending a church ceremony, I got cranky and the baby sitter took me to church to get some peace.

It was a marriage made in Heaven, two people that loved each other and lived for each other were finally joining hands in matrimony. They were very giving people that made it real by demonstrating that love is not bound by a blood line, but by the way their hearts were made.

They were Marie and Frank, my aunt and uncle. She was my mother’s youngest sister and he was the prince she married. She was a beautiful woman, even to the day she passed, 92 years after her birth and he stood the test of time as a real prince. Having served in General Patton’s army, he told me tales of his experiences in combat, the habits he learned to survive even in peacetime. He was not only an army hero, but an inspiration to me, having bettered himself by going to night school under the GI Bill, while working days in the Brooklyn Navy Yard in the accounting office, before joining the fight in the army.

Their lives went un-herald while they were alive except for the people they touched with their kindness, and love. I was lucky to have them in my life.

Aunt Marie would arrive everyday when we all lived in Brooklyn, a housewife with an amazing sense of humor and a tendency for fun. She was a teaser and I was usually the one that got teased. She and Mom would go shopping on Broadway or Picken Avenue and push baby strollers as they chatted and laughed.

They had a son named Nicholas and a son named William. One was a natural born son and one was adopted. I don’t need to tell you who was adopted and who was natural birth, because it didn’t matter to the parents, both were loved equally.

Then one day they moved away and soon we moved too from Brooklyn, but the connection was never broken. They came for holidays and special events and so life went on. Then one day it was time for college, and so I enrolled and began an arduous journey everyday trying to get to school, not having the money to stay in a dorm, I took trains and hitch hiked to school, a great struggle for someone without the means. I was driven to succeed and would not give up, mom and dad had no money to give me even a used car, and my two jobs supported my education and train fare.

One day my aunt and uncle came for dinner and started asking me questions about how school was going. I started telling them and all of a sudden, I had a place to stay near the college, meals and even my own room! They would help me out, no loan, no qualifiers, just heart giving love for their nephew. Writing this tears come to my eyes a little, they made the biggest difference in my life, and to this day I could never repay them, nor would they take anything form me.

Today, so many years after, they have lost a son and have only one survivor of this wonderful giving and loving couple. I will hold their memory in my heart so they can live a little longer. If anyone ever tells you there is no God, they are wrong, God lives in those of us who give like that couple that married 68 years ago today, and their spirit lives on.

Thank you Aunt Marie and Uncle Frank, I love and miss you both, Happy Anniversary!

AND SO IT WILL GO.

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Today: is my birthday. It is the first birthday without my mother alive. I’m sure most of you have experienced this, that one day that relates you with your mother.

I guess when we pass: we leave in two ways, both the physical departure and the legacy that is built over our lifetime. As a child, I can’t help remembering the sense of security when Dad and Mom were alive: the sense of life being what it was, how so much depended on what they thought. Then one day I married and that sense lessened greatly, but still hung in the air. Once Dad passed on, I knew that life was not forever, that Mom would follow and then I will too. But that is ok, because I have life, have spent it and will spend it in the days to come.

I see my beautiful grandchild and I am grateful that she is alive, that she is the new tomorrow, that she will shine in my eyes until the day I am gone. Life is a beautiful thing. There is nothing more I want.

I’m thinking that maybe it is time to shed some of the old baggage from the past, shake loose some of the traditions that existed and because Mom is now gone, won’t be the same anymore.

You know from your own experiences what I am talking about, the thing we call life marches on, the parade takes another direction. I plan to make myself happier, see the world in another light, and frankly, I can’t wait to get started.

Have a great day, I’ll be talking to you.

THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE DAYTIME

Now I’m not a superstitious person by any means, and signs and omens are not my thing, but apprehension is. Case in point.

Back in 1991, when Dad passed on, I got the creeps just walking into the home he shared with Mom, who was still living there. I recall having to go there one day to wallpaper her den, while she went out to shop with my sister. It made me feel a little out of sorts, thinking he once roamed the rooms just a few days ago, like his spirit was still present.

I have been spending a lot of time at my parent’s house. Since Mom died three weeks ago, I have been going almost every day to clean and take care of business. Most of the time I go alone, and when I do, I get a little apprehensive about entering the house. The reason is that Mom’s passing is still kind of hard to a degree to get by. There are many happy times and moments that cause me to reflect on the things of long ago.

I see a picture, or an everyday item she used and I can relate to an event or person from the past and I get this strange feeling that Mom is trying to convey something to me.

One day this week, I went to Mom’s house and sat down in the kitchen with an apple turnover and coffee I purchased in Bellport. I had passed the old Bellport Hotel that is now Porters where there is a history from long ago with Mom and Dad. They once ran the kitchen at the hotel during the post war years and I grew up on summer weekends there as a young child, I actually recall some of it. As I was passing the hotel to my car on foot, it clicked and I recalled the long ago past and how it started here and ended here for both of them.

Driving to her house that is about 3 minutes away, I couldn’t help but wonder what was where back in those days, and pulling up into the driveway I parked the car and took out the house keys, and there in my mind stood Mom and Dad.

Pushing against the door as it opened from the lock, I lean into the alarm and it seems like they are still there, and that feels a little unsettling yet comforting, but apprehensively I plod on to the kitchen and sit down to have my coffee. It then strikes me, Mom died of June 11th and Dad died on June 12^th! Mom died in a hospital bed in my old bedroom and Dad died on the floor in the hallway. Both had died in the house, almost on the same date, but did die on the same day, a Wednesday.

As I sip the coffee, I suddenly feel the loneliness of the house, the echo of days and times past, and an eeriness creeps over me. Suddenly: a rapping on what seems the front door startles me. I get up and go to the door to see who it is, there is no one there! I try looking at my I-pad, when once again a rapping is heard. Again I go look and still no one is there. Once again and now I am wondering if someone is trying to communicate with me. I get up and look throughout the house, come to the basement door and look down the stairs where it is dark. I decide there is nothing down there and go back to the kitchen once more. One more time the rapping begins; I look around and start talking to Dad:

“Dad, if you think this is funny, cut it out, or at least wait until I’m with someone else, I know Mom would not kid around like this!”

Then it dawns on me it is the refrigerator, the same refrigerator that had my sisters up all night about a month ago when they slept over!

Or was it?

HAPPY 4TH!

What ghost haunted King George III?
The spirit of '76!

Pretty sad that I have to resort to bad jokes on the big day, but then, why not? It is a day to be sober, respectful and reminded that the holiday should be one the whole world should celebrate.

Just think about it, what would have been this world if there were NO USA? Would Hitler’s plan still be in effect, would Tojo’s descendants be running the California Freeways? Would we have a place to worship freely? Would God even be in the equation, and would you be free to read this?

When I was a kid, fireworks were all over the neighborhood, and I enjoyed watching them and waiting for them to explode with fear-filled anticipation that sent shudders through me.

When I got older I got a hold of some fireworks and had a grand time setting them off then when I reached the age of maturity, I resented the noise.

But the holiday signifies the burst for freedom men wanted living in subjugated colonies, it wrote two great flawless documents: the Constitution of the United States and the piece of paper that declared our freedom, the Declaration of Independence. Both documents still hold up today almost 250 years later. It is preserved in Washington DC as a sacred relic, comparable to anything you might find in Vatican City in Rome in reverence.

Enjoy the holiday, think of the parades to celebrate and the food to cook and friends to enjoy it with, then if you are not too happy about the noisy fireworks, go to bed, close your windows and drown out the noise with your air-conditioner.

As the visitor said as he left the Statue of Liberty:
"Keep in torch!"

SAY AH!

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Many years ago, while in first grade, I had a mean old teacher by the name of Miss Langon. You’ll notice the ‘Miss’ in her name. She was about 95 and still teaching, with a ruler that rivaled my mother’s wooden spoon. She was too old to apply force with the same gusto that Mom did because of her advanced age, but she did bring it home pretty well.

The old girl had trouble with depth perception and with her limited eyesight and hearing for a woman that old, she settled on hostages rather than culprits. More often than not, she would wound up hostages, and I was one of them. Being I was a first grader, I couldn’t tell if she had caught me or was just evening the score with the rest of the class.

Mom had a saying that she would repeat to me every morning as I left the house for school: “If the teacher has to discipline you at school, when you get home, you will get the rest!”

I was a dedicated student. I hated the school, the discipline and the regimentation, and was dedicated to finding ways to get out of it. The dress code, the praying, the memorization of learning, and the harsh discipline if you answered wrong by that old witch Miss Langon made me miserable. I hated school.

You entered the Doctor's office under the steps

One day I went home to lunch with my sister and must have eaten it too fast, leaving me with a pain in my right side. I complained to Mom who didn’t believe me, but said she would take me to the doctor with her that afternoon for her scheduled appointment with Dr. Angressani. The doctor looked like a doctor, with salt and pepper hair and a pencil moustache. His office was on the bottom floor of a brownstone, and in I went with my mother. After talking to Mom, he called me in and said where does it hurt? I told him my right side. Poking he said: “Do you have a test this afternoon in school?” As a matter of fact, I did. “Yes, a spelling-test.” I answered.

Looking at Mom, he said his diagnosis was: ‘A spelling-test.’

From that day on, Mom never let me live that down, yet I did have the pain that must have been gas.

TODAY IS A VERY IMPORTANT WEDDING ANNIVERSARY DAY!

CONGRATULATIONS TO COURTNEY AND 

#1 SON ANTHONY.

They have a lot to celebrate, a beautiful little charmer who I call:

LA PRINCIPESSA

Having a beautiful child, wife and job, in a beautiful area of the country, life is good, so congratulations to a union formed from heaven, just look at the little angel they have!

I GET MARRIED

On June 19^th, 1971 "It's Too Late" by Carole King peaked at #1 on the pop singles chart and stayed there for five weeks. It was too late for me: I walked down the aisle for a lifetime journey as a married man.

Sitting together the planning for the wedding was occurring every morning on the Long Island Rail Road, every detail laid out, every seat assigned and meal planned for the reception. Since TLW (The Little Woman) and I had large families, it was a lot to think about. I mean who wasn’t talking to who, placing them where they would have a good time, talk to someone they like for the moment and before they made new enemies once again. Typical dysfunction you find at every old time wedding.

The invitations were sent out, and I felt maybe I better invite my bosses and friends from the company along with TLW’s Mobil Oil bosses and friends. I didn’t think my company would even think to show up. But I felt if I didn’t it would not look good, and frankly, I wanted them to come.

While everything was planned and the invites were in the mail, TLW comes up to the office one day after work at the invitation of my company. A party had been planned in the boss’s office along with cake, Champaign and gift. It was a very special moment as they honored us. Everyone attended, crowding into the Chairman’s private office. There was even levity about, as one of the account executives was accused of being a ten minute man, which TLW picked up on and laughed at, to this day!

One night during the week, the phone rings at my folk's home and it is TLW.

TLW: “Guess who is coming to the wedding!”

Me: “Me?”

TLW: “No”

Me: “You?”

TLW: “No silly, Larry, your boss!”

The Chairman was coming to my wedding? Me? He was coming all the way out from his home in Valley Stream to not only the reception, but the church as well! How special was that? Not only that, but TLW’s boss was coming too, we both were truly honored.

The morning of the wedding, after a night of revelry and good times, good food and good booze, I was oversleeping! Yes, Mom, Dad and the four sisters of the covenant that lived in the house at one time or another were already gone for the church.

Out cold I hear a knocking at the window of my bedroom. A tap that was becoming a frantic rapping, it was my best man Phil coming for me! Slowly I climb out of my sleep and bed for the last time as a free man. We get dressed and go down to Dad’s bar in the recreation room and have one last drink before we head to the church, on my empty stomach! The closer we got to the church, the more my head felt the booze. Entering the church, we are greeted by people and we head to the back of the altar to await the end of

me. Suddenly the music starts, and we go out on the altar and wait for the bridal procession. They all come down the aisle, then… here comes the bride, and the closer she got on her father’s arm, the more she started looking like her father!

The ceremony, a Mass was all a blur, and few details remain in my mind except our sitting and standing and kneeling and the exchange of rings, and of course, my best man Phil, a Jew, getting startled when the priest came up to him with the host and all he could do was stick out his tongue. This was what I thought was the beginning of the end of the world, a Jew receiving communion, surely all the columns of Rome and the Vatican were tumbling down.

I do remember the music I selected for our exit from the church, Beethoven’s Ode to Joy, his ninth and last symphony. I left that church a very happy man, she was absolutely beautiful, and maybe stunning is a more appropriate word. Funny, I was in love with her kindness, her sweet disposition, intelligence  and good sense, and left admiring her beauty that day too!

IT GETS UGLY!

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I win an award for the agency!

Probably the worst feeling you can have in your career is to be connected to a scandal of someone elses making. It is bitter, causes anger and saddens, but when it happens early on in your career, it is horrendous to your sense of stability.

Having worked so hard on the Lufthansa account, as part of the team and following all the protocols of creative cooperation, I was rewarded with my own account, American Airlines. Since we owned a small staff of people under 30 in numbers, it was easier for me to handle one account and my boss the other.

My first encounter with the client representing American Airlines (AA) was at a staff meeting in our conference room. He was a well-dressed handsome man in his mid fifties, and seemed kind of unctuous to me. He had a Spanish first name and a

Waspy last name, with a full head of thick silver and blond hair, wore expensive cuff links and well tailored suits. He was in charge of this multi-million dollar enterprise for the airline and we were but a part of it.

Along with the agency were a type house, a few printing firms and other businesses such as retouching and conversion processes that had to support my efforts. Things were running very smoothly, when all of a sudden, there is a meeting with the big boss about the account, calling all the staff of the agency together, via a memo. That morning I had heard somewhere a vague reference to the airline on the news, but since it was such a big corporation, I paid little attention. There was no reason for me to be suspicious of anything, I had met in their offices and they met in mine for meetings so there was no cause for concerns. The working was flowing. So what was the meeting for?

The Chairman stood at the front of the room and addressed us all, his ever-present cigar in his hand, he started by telling us that the Federal Government had indicted the agency and him in particular. He said that an indictment was not in itself a statement of guilt but a request to appear in a trial, one that would be conducted before a grand jury! Furthermore, all work on the AA account was suspended permanently! I remember feeling the crush in my chest and the feeling that somehow I was betrayed.

It turned out that the client had put pressure on my agency and all the other suppliers of services, extorting huge paydays, or else he would pull the account and we would all lose millions of dollars! One of the printers had blown the whistle and got the Feds involved. When they went to arrest him, he was long gone, with a nice fat fortune and his girlfriend secretary, to Portugal where no one could touch him.

Of course this became a huge black mark on the reputation of the agency, the boss himself and caused the agency to start its descent into oblivion, it was time for me to move on.

I GET AN AIRLINE ACCOUNT

I was on a roll, the company was doing very well and I was now working on Lufthansa, the German Airline. I was assigned a part of the account and working on Saturday and Sunday for three weeks straight, there was that much to do.

Hunters Point where you can catch gout!

Around the time that this was happening, my first-born was about to appear, along with my older sister Tessie (much older) was about to have her first child. This was February of 1972, and one Sunday as I was waiting for the Flushing line at Hunters Point Avenue, my right foot was swelling up on the instep. It was very painful and unfortunately I wasn’t going to give in to it. Loosening up the laces of my shoe relieved the pressure and on I went.

Der Sherman Airlion

Designing media kits, mailings and magazine ads, I was deep into the airline business of promotion. Working with writers, account execs and production people, we toiled and tried and retried, wrote and rewrote, designed and redesigned until we felt we had it correctly. At noon we would, as we did every day of the week, stop and go to lunch, eating very rich foods and then heading back to the office. The chairman would insist we run a tab at this one seafood restaurant or that Italian restaurant, and even one of my favorites at the time, Friar Tucks. Food and drinks and sign the tab. It was then that my sister Tessie, my older sister (much older) had her son John! The following Sunday as I am about to go out the door to catch the train to the city, my mom calls and asks what my plans are for the day. I tell her I’m going to work and she gives me hell for not seeing my new nephew yet.

The foot was now almost impossible to stand on and once the crush was over, I went to the doctor. The doctor took one look at the foot and said I had the King’s disease: gout! I had gout!

American Airline

After the Lufthansa crush, as I was sitting in my office I get the news from my immediate boss, that since I did so well on the airline account I was getting my own! We had pitched American Airlines and got it, doing the domestic wing of the business only, there was no conflict, and they felt I was ready to do this!

Tomorrow: IT GETS UGLY!

NAME DROPPING

In the course of my career as an advertising man, I have met many famous people. Some of the people were household names like Eva Gabor and some not so famous as far as recognition goes like E. T. Klassen, the Postmaster General under Nixon.

Prior to the Watergate break in and our being on the Dean’s List, we had a visit one morning from the Postmaster General, Elmer Ted Klassen who served from January 1, 1972 to February 16, 1975. Being we were a leading direct mail agency in the country, and the notoriety and vision of the Chairman made the visit necessary as far as the U.S. Post Office was concerned. We were helping them launch a new campaign, and I had never seen such a big deal about anything in that office as I did that day!

Alexis Smith was the first from the glamorous world of Hollywood to visit us. A memo went out the day before that Alexis Smith was in New York and that a small cocktail party reception was planned in her honor in the conference room for the next day. For the life of me I can’t recall why or what it was all about. I remember her being escorted through the office, meeting her at my desk and shaking hands and I recall the cocktail reception, but not much more. She was a striking woman: that left a delicious impression on my young eyes. Fortunately for me I still recall her face.

Advertising is about calling attention, about singling out and about glorifying the attributes: real and imagined, but most of all it is about making money. I was making money, the company was making money and more importantly, I was having fun, learning, meeting new people both rich and famous!

I think that your first job is a lot like your first love: it stays with you after you retire, and brings back such great memories.

MAKING THE DEAN’S LIST

The Watergate Complex

During the height of the Watergate scandal, the Spiro Agnew crush and the making of so many stars in congress the Congressional probe about President Nixon actually touched me in a peculiar way. The national media was abuzz about the Watergate scandal, the constant reports and the all day coverage of events as they unfolded during the hearings on TV. Everyday was a new revelation, everyday brought something new to the table to be made aware to the general public.

The chairman of the company was an influential man, coming from the field of journalism, working for a major media company at one time, and that influence ranged all the way over to politics, and the attention of Richard Milhous Nixon. The Chairman was a somewhat wealthy man and made contributions to the Democratic Party. During this time of political infighting and the unhinging of the Presidency under Nixon, it was not a good thing to do as far as Republicans were concerned. My politics were of a conservative bent in those days, without an affiliation to any party, and I still feel that way.

the 'Dean'

Arriving at my office one morning, I notice as I pass the desks of the support staff, little buttons on each desk. I don’t think much of it since there was always a promotional item hanging around for one client or another. When I got into my office, there on my desk was this same button. It was about 2 ½ inches across and had a hangman’s noose on it, Across the button in big letters was the words: “I’M ON THE DEAN’S LIST”!

Finding it on my desk gave me the creeps. Why? Because I knew what it meant, and I was guilty by association, and I didn’t like the whole idea for myself. I had a little kid at home and just married and didn’t want anything to do with this that might touch even so slightly on my wife’s reputation.

There seemed to be a certain pride among the office personnel how we were all on the “Dean’s List’. I was confused and wondered why. I hate politics, always have and hate politicians in particular, so this whole idea was abhorrent to me. Then I figured it out, my boss was on the Dean’s List, not the staff or anyone else! I was starting to get a little giddy, life away from Bellport, NY was getting complicated!