The Ancient One returns. It has been exactly one year since he last posted here and it seems about time to start again. He's not sure what happened after he returned from that wonderful August, 2009 trip. When last seen blogging, it was about his oldest granddaughter's Bat Mitzvah. He planned to write more. . .but his blogpen fell silent.
It would be easy to blame the silence on writer's block, or too much Facebook, or too much game time on the internet. But that doesn't matter. A lot has happened in the past 12 months about which he should have been writing. Some of that will appear in the coming months but many of the passing events, thoughts and feelings will remain in that silent ether.
So, off to post this now before he finds another excuse to continue his personal void. For now, The Ancient One is back and, hopefully, this is the restart of something good and occasionally interesting.
We had a relaxing, and somewhat different, 4th of July this year that was a lot of fun, brought back some old memories and led The Ancient One to some thoughts about Independence and Freedom.
Of course, the morning walk took precedence and it was a beautiful day without the "marine layer" that seems to have been hanging over the peninsula for so long. A special treat came about because the city of Palos Verdes Estates moved their 4th of July Celebration from Malaga Cove to the grounds of Lunada Bay School. This resulted in a panoramic overview along the morning's route. (Unfortunately, the camera was not in hand). While my vantage point was from well above the site and from afar, the crowd and lines of flags could be seen. And voices carried well on the morning air as I listened to a young woman singing My Country Tis of Thee. . . and heard a couple of the orators holding forth.
Later in the day we joined some friends who were staying at the new, recently opened Terranea Resort in Rancho Palos Verdes, less than 6 miles from our home. It was pleasant walking the grounds as Jim and Diane gave us the grand tour and then enjoying a wonderful dinner in one of the many restaurants before returning to our own home. It was at Terranea that old memories came flooding back.
This new resort is built on the land that was Marineland many years ago. When Alicia and Seth were pre-school age (she'll be 28 later this month and he's 26) we had season tickets to Marineland. We would often pack a picnic lunch and spend an hour or two there, generally seeing one of the shows (Orky and Corky were the resident performing killer whales) and always stopping by the marine hospital that cared for wounded sea life (especially sea lions), nursed them back to health and returned them to the ocean just below the cliffs. That was the pleasant part of the memories. The less than pleasant part came when the company that owned Sea World in San Diego bought Marineland and then suddenly shut it down, marked by the spiriting away of the many sea animals in the middle of the night. Folks around here have never quite gotten over that bit of corporate chicanery. It's nice to have this sparkling new resort but it isn't the same.
At various points during the day and evening, The Ancient One's thoughts turned to the meaning of the 4th of July, reflections on independence and freedom and what is happening in the world today. Now I appreciate the flying of the flag, the wearing of lapel pins and all the patriotic speeches as much as anyone. But they are only the out trappings of freedom and patriotism. When I look at the level of intolerance around me in this country it seems that there is a disconnect between the outward symbols of patriotism and what so many of our citizens believe. Some examples.
When referenda are passed that take rights away from a minority of citizens, we hear that it must be honored because we are a democracy based upon majority rule. But those majoritarians forget the other half of the democratic principle that guarantees inalienable rights to everyone, including minorities, regardless of what the majority wants. The drafters of our constitution added a Bill of Rights for that reason although it took a long time for that ideal to start to take hold and it generally has been the judiciary that has had to take on the mantle of defining and protecting minority rights.
The Ancient One is similarly puzzled when our citizens and some political leaders insist that it is our destiny to impose their definition of democracy on other countries and cultures. It seems to me that the heart of America's own fight for independence was to reject having someone else's system of governing imposed on us. Our earliest settlers escaped persecution and came to a land where they could live their lives within their own belief systems. In a line in the play You Can't Take It With You, Grandpa tells his granddaughter, "who says that they're right and we're wrong." I might add that the reverse is equally true, "Who says that we're right and they're wrong."
The essence of America ideally is tolerance, respect for others and their way of life. We believe in freedom. I remember an old saying that "one man's freedom ends when his fist reaches another man's nose." It seems to The Ancient One that this should apply to other countries as well. We no more have the right to impose our system on other nations than they have in trying to impose their systems on us. The ability to live together in a complex world and respect those whose beliefs are different than ours is the essence of patriotism.
Okay, time to get off my soapbox and get back to my daily life.
We were in San Diego for 4 days for a Brenner family reunion. Relatives were there from Missouri, Florida and across southern California. Part of the reunion was a celebration of Sy's 87th birthday. It was a wonderful long weekend even though there was less than an hour of sunshine the whole time.
Like any good family reunion, most of the activity was carried out in the midst of food. Dinner Friday at Harbor House in Seaport Village, Saturday night at the Jamacha Grille in El Cajon, Sunday brunch at our hotel with deli brought in from D.Z. Akin's, and a serendipitous dinner Sunday night at Brian's Eatery in downtown San Diego. Food, food and more food! Talk, talk and more talk! Memories galore. Remembering places and people long forgotten.
Oh, was it fun. Oh, was the food good. Do you think The Ancient One's cardiologist will believe him when he says that he really lost weight over the past three months . . . but then gained 8 pounds just by attending a family reunion? Well, we'll see what happens at this afternoon's appointment.
I mean, how can you go to a family reunion and not overeat? It's part of a full life. You understand, don't you Doctor?
Today was Election Day in California. . .and hardly anybody noticed! With the exception of a handful of contests to fill vacant offices around the state, the primary purpose for voters was to decide on 6 statewide propositions supported by the Governor and legislative leaders. A "Yes" vote was supposed to address the State's enormous deficit and avoid greater shortfalls and further reductions in state programs.
It was a curious campaign. There were few TV commercials; I guess that was a blessing. The Governor occasionally was seen claiming that layoffs and program reductions would result from a no vote. The Governor voted by emergency absentee ballot before he headed off to Washington, D.C. to attend a press conference in the Rose Garden today. I had trouble finding much information on the election in today's newspapers; I think it was on page 3 of the Los Angeles Times. While I felt no great enthusiasm for the election, I did vote this afternoon and had very little wait in a very short line at the polling place. Last I heard estimated turnout was about 8% of the registered voters in the state.
But my cynicism took hold in this election. I actually believe that when the Governor threatened more layoffs of state workers and more program reductions, he wanted voters to vote know so he could blame what he wanted to do on the ballot box rather than himself and the legislature. When the first news show I turned on tonight did not report on the election results until 15 minutes had passed in the broadcast (an aftershock of last Sunday's earthquake was the lead story), it reflected that "we don't give a damn" attitude that seems to permeate the state. Yes, the elected leaders of the great progressive state of California proposed more tax increases and a lot of gobbledygook and said that they expected people who were already suffering from the economy to buy it. But I think they wanted us to vote no and it appears we did; in the early returns the NO votes exceeded 60%. It seems that one proposition is going to pass. Among other things, that one will stop salary payments to state political leaders when there is a budget deficit (or something like that).
I can hear the Governor and legislative leaders as I write this. When they decimate our schools and needed services, I can hear them saying, "The voters left us no choice." I am saddened by the total lack of leadership in what historically has been a progressive state.
These are the views held tonight by The Ancient One who generally has had a relatively positive view of those who hold political office through his 71+ years on this planet. It is a sad day in California, not because it appears that 5 of the 6 propositions failed but because the absence of leadership led to their being on the ballot in the first place.
I met Bea Arthur on January 31, 2004 at the James Armstrong Theatre in Torrance, CA where she had performed in her Tony nominated show Just Between Friends. It was a wonderful evening and was, in part, a benefit for the South Bay Conservatory and its scholarship program.
After the performance, Ms. Arthur graciously came out to the lobby to give autographs and chat with audience members. As I waited in line, I could hear those ahead of me telling her how much they loved her work, usually mentioning either Maude or Golden Girls. When I reached the head of the line and handed her my Playbill (pictured above with her autograph), I mentioned that my favorite line of hers came from the 1970 movie Lovers and Other Strangers where she played the role of Bea Vecchio, a stereotypical Italian mother. At the wedding of one of her sons in the film, another son and his wife told her that they were getting a divorce. She kept asking why and finally they said simply that it was because they were not happy. Her reply was, "You should never look for happiness, it will only make you miserable." I saw that movie at a particularly low moment in my own life and that comment truly lifted my spirits.
I would like to think that Ms. Arthur appreciated someone remembering a performance of hers other than those most often associated with her career. She did laugh when I quoted the line and she mentioned having fun doing that movie. Some 34 years after I had seen Lovers and Other Strangers, she once again brought a smile to my face. That evening in 2004 was magical. I will cherish Bea Arthur's memory and the joy she brought to all of us who saw her perform whether on stage, TV or film.
Yesterday was dark and bleak as I went out for my morning walk. It was quite a contrast from the sun and heat of the beginning of the weak. Suddenly, my eyes were assaulted with brilliant flowery colors. I took just one photo that represents what I saw.
Ah, those roses certainly brightened an otherwise dreary day. Enjoy!
Well, The Ancient One has completed his first week (actually 3½ days) in the field as an Enumerator or Lister or Address Canvasser for the U.S Census Bureau and he has made some discoveries about work and life.
First, he had forgotten how much he has enjoyed his retirement where he has controlled the calendar. Although this work is part-time (no more than 30 hours per week), it's been hard adjusting to the concept of "being required" to at a specified place at a specified time. Second, it is strange having someone else as a work supervisor after several years of pretty much being his own boss.
Third, walking the streets confirming addresses of housing units is tiring to old legs, especially in this area where it seems there are not many level streets. Some of the hills are real challenges. And the amount of walking adds up. The very accurate pedometer worn on the belt is getting a workout; normal days (before enumerating) ran from the target minimum of 10,000 up to about 12,000 steps a day. On the 4 days worked this week, the pedometer tallied about 16,000 steps on 2 days and over 20,000 yesterday and today. If nothing else, The Ancient One should be in pretty good shape when the job ends in about 3 months. And there are indications that all this walking and hill climbing will also move the weight downwards. . .at last.
Most of the "counting" has been fun. I've talked to a lot of interesting people who seem to be disappointed that we aren't asking a lot of questions; only those that are necessary to make sure we are counting the correct number of housing units on a property. That can be tricky in neighborhoods where many houses have an apartment out back or above the garage. We can't miss those multi-unit properties or hidden housing units (HHUs) In some ways, I'm lucky; with the exception of one small area, almost all the housing units I have counted are single family residences. And I haven't come upon a new condominium development that wasn't standing 10 years ago. That poor enumerator had no housing units listed on the HHC (hand held computer) and had to add them all.
All-in-all, I'm enjoying myself although I'm tired. I also tried to get a few extra hours in this week since I will be gone most of next week to spend the Passover holiday with daughter Alicia in Delaware, with a "side trip" to see Bill, Melanie and the granddaughters in Brooklyn.
Now off to sleep; it's going to be a busy weekend even without counting housing units.
The Ancient One, as many know, does much of his reading on his morning walks through the neighborhood. Only on rare occasions does it pose a physical threat, usually the result of walking into a parked car while engrossed in a compelling scene of a murder mystery. Now and then other walkers or neighbors wake him from his reverie with comments or questions about the reading material.
Having been noticed regularly by others as he passed along the way, he wasn't really prepared the other morning when the trash truck stopped to pick up the greenwaste as I was leaving for work. After emptying the barrels, the driver turned and came up the driveway. With a big smile and a heavy accent, he said that he often noticed my reading habit as I walked along the street. He asked what types of books I read and I gave him my standard answer about mystery novels and thrillers. Then he surprised me.
"Reading is good," he said. With a wonderful, wide smile on his face, he continued, "I always have a book with me on the truck and I always read during my lunch hour and breaks. I learn so much from reading." I must confess that he proved to me once again how much people in all walks of life want to learn and that books provide an excellent vehicle to do so. And I was delighted to know that it was the printed word on paper that helped enlighten his day.
Yes, The Ancient One agrees. Reading is good for everyone!
It’s been a quiet writing month but The Ancient One has been busy.This week, for example, he began work for the U.S. Bureau of the Census as an “Enumerator” or should I say and “enumerator in training.”The 4 days of classroom work ended today and tomorrow is field training.If all goes well, the real enumerating begins on Monday.
At this point in the year before the decennial census, the enumerators count and confirm listings of housing units.To assist us in this process, we have been training on HHCs, which in English means Hand-Held Computers.They are marvelous little machines using cellular technology (I think) and they include GPS capabilities.We’ve been running exercises on them for 4 days and now we get to show that we know what we learned.Assignments for the blocks where I am responsible for “address canvassing” will be downloaded mysteriously to my HHC and off I will go.At least all enumerators are assigned to “crews” in the area where they live and don’t have to travel far and wide across the land.
The Ancient One has learned a lot this week.But he is very tired.It is the first time he has worked a full-time week since he retired in 2006.Yeah, there have been a couple of 12-14 hour days on TV shoots but they never add up to a week of full-time, detailed work.This may be the most tiring week because once the real job begins, it won’t be full-time and it will last only for about 12 weeks.By then, it is hoped that the nationwide army of enumerators will have every possible housing unit listed on computer-based maps to be used by the “people counters” during the actual census next year.
So, “Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it’s off to enumerating I go.”That’s just one reason there have been so few posts this month!The Ancient One will offer up additional comments on this new working experience in the weeks to come.Yawnnnnnnnn. . .And now to get some sleep.
A little over a month ago, I applied for a temporary job with the Census Bureau and took the qualifying exam. About 10 days ago I received a call offering me a position as an enumerator which I accepted. That means I'm a counter of some sort working in the field, possibly interviewing families although I think that part of the job won't come until next year which is the official U.S. decennial census year. This year involves all the preparation for the census itself.
My training was scheduled and rescheduled. I asked a few questions and know that my work will be in the area where I live and the job is part-time for 12 weeks. I figure that the income will finance a couple of east coast trips we have scheduled this year. So, what does all of this have to do with inky finger tips and old memories?
Before I can start training, I had to go in for fingerprinting and the filling out of forms. My appointment was yesterday (Friday) afternoon. The line was appropriately long but moved right along. The pleasant lady who took my prints was very talkative and had a lot of questions as she was rolling my fingers one-by-one on the ink pad and applying them to the cards on which the prints were recorded.
She asked me when was the last time I had been fingerprinted. I thought for a moment and told her the only time I could remember was when I enlisted in the Marine Corps Reserve in March of 1956. She then asked me about that service; how long, where and that kind of stuff. That's where most of the memory kicked in.
I was 18 when I enlisted for 6 years in the Marine Air Reserve. I was assigned to VMA-222, a fighter squadron at Grosse Isle Naval Air Station down river from Detroit. After testing, I was given an MOS of 6600 which classified me as an air radio technician. The squadron flew AD-4 sky raiders, a prop driven plane that served yeoman duty in the Korean War. (In fact, one of my brothers and a cousin had served in the same squadron in Korea.)
Yes, The Ancient One was a weekend warrior in his youth. I had enlisted under the Reserve Forces Act of 1955 which required that at some point during my 6 years of service, I was to do 180 days of active duty training. The rest of the service would be in the form of one weekend a month and 2 weeks during the summers. But there was a loophole in the law; it did not say when that active duty was to take place and the squadron leaders seemed to be oblivious to the fact that I had not gone to boot camp or been designated for my active duty training. (The loophole was closed in late 1956 or possibly 1957 when the Act was amended to state that new recruits were to be assigned specific dates for their active duty at the time of enlistment.)
In my case, the fact that I had not been called up for my 180 days of training wasn't discovered until the fall of 1961. I had moved to Chapel Hill, NC to attend graduate school at the University of North Carolina. To complete the final 6 months of my enlistment, I was assigned to a squadron based at the Naval Air Station in Norfolk, VA. That was when it was discovered that I had not done my 180 days but since I had less than that amount of time left in my enlistment, the Commanding Officer decided that it made no sense to send me to boot camp at the end of my term of service.
Yes, I was among a small cadre of Marines who volunteered to be available if my country needed me but never went to boot camp or received any combat training. I did get pretty good at removing and installing the radio gear in the AD-4's and that's what I did on my service weekends and summer training for 6 years. These are the memories evoked by my inky fingertips yesterday afternoon.
One last memory of that time. One morning, as I was getting ready to leave for my weekend training, my father (the original cantankerous old curmudgeon) saw me as I came down the stairs in my uniform. He looked up with a mischievous grin on his face and commented: "This is protecting me?" Dad's been gone over 44 years now and I still miss his sense of humor. At least I think he was kidding.
I was cleaning out my wallet the other day and I came across my Draft Card. Actually, its formal name is my "Selective Service System Registration Certificate." It looks like this (front and back):
What is this, my children might ask. When I was young, all males were required by law to register with their local "draft board" within 10 days of their 18th birthday. The front of the card indicates that I complied, having registered on January 27, 1956 (the 56 disappeared over the years as the card became a bit frayed); it was the day after my birthday and (as noted in a post last month) my graduation from high school. You can see the selective service number assigned to me and my address. (This was a time before zip codes and the local postal zone was entered after the city name.) There was no draft at the time but registration was designed to help the government find eligible young men if it should ever be reinstated. With the exception of a few volunteers, women were not in the armed services in those days and there was never any intent to include them in a draft if it became necessary to conscript citizens into the armed forces.
On the back of the card you can find my vital statistics at that time and the fact that I was registered with "Michigan Local Board No. 97." I really can't recall when the requirement to register ended. But apparently I took the bottom admonition seriously. I have carried my draft card with me ever since that day over 53 years ago although I'm not sure exactly when I stopped providing the Board with my changes in address.
Times certainly have changed. Now we rely entirely on volunteers to fill the ranks of the military. I must confess that I was never completely comfortable with the idea of a volunteer, or professional army. For some reason, I felt there was less chance of the military becoming a political force in this country if it was filled with conscripts counting the days until their discharge back to civilian life. I guess my fears were a bit misguided. But I do feel badly for those who stayed in the reserves or joined the National Guard after their tour of active duty only to be recalled to service in a time of need, separated from their families and sent into combat.
But I'm a dreamer. I somehow still think it is possible to achieve the kind of peace that does not require combat ready militias ready to go into battle at a moments notice. Donna does refer to The Ancient One as a Pollyanna.
It's been over 3 months since I last wrote about the books I had read. But that doesn't mean I stopped reading; the below pictured stack covers all that was read, mostly on my daily walks.
The list:
Jeffrey Archer, A Prisoner of Birth
J.A. Jance, Hand of Evil
Douglas Preston, Blasphemy
Linda Fairstein, Likely to Die
Jonathan Kellerman, Billy Straight
Clive Cussler, The Chase
Faye Kellerman, Grievous Sins
John Lescroart, Betrayal
Linda Fairstein. Killer Heat
Raymond Khoury, The Last Templar
Barbara Delinsky, Accidental Woman
Michael Palmer, The First Patient
Sue Grafton, T is for Trespass
It's clear that most fall within the mystery category, some with an historical perspective and a couple also containing the elements of thrillers. It would take too much space to discuss all of them but I do want to focus on two in particular.
A Prisoner of Birth was the first Jeffrey Archer novel I have read and I will be seeking out more of his work. Set in England, the intricacies of the plot coupled with a wonderful mastery of language and story telling kept me on the edge of my seat, so to speak, all the way through. I hope that future encounters with his work will prove as pleasing.
In the case of Sue Grafton, I have read all of her "letter" mysteries although I don't generally find them to offer much more than the story at hand. However, in the case of T is for Trespass, one of the plot lines dealt with the criminal aspects of elder abuse and I found it to be extremely informative in that it placed the issue in the context of a "real" victim and the modus operandi of a "real" abuser. For me, it made human the types of things we all too often come across in newspapers where the stories are reported but not in enough detail to make clear the extent to which elder abuse robs senior citizens with limited capabilities of their dignity and, in many cases, what little they have in the way of possessions. I recommend this mystery to anyone who wants a clear picture of the horrors of elder abuse.
My reading continues. There are just so many more exciting, well written mysteries novels and thrillers out there. It is almost reassuring to know that I will never come close to reading them all. There will always be new crimes to solve and heroes to solve them.
It was 53 years ago today on my 18th birthday. I graduated from high school; Central High School in Detroit, Michigan to be exact. The following week I started college at Wayne State University (also in Detroit).
I mention this because I recently came across my final high school report card, both sides of which are pictured below:
This report card is interesting for a number of reasons. To start with, it is far different from the computer generated reports that are turned out by schools today. The writing on the front of the card (other than the grades themselves) is mine. At the beginning of each semester, every student had to fill out his/her own card. The back of the card shows my mother's signature for the first two reporting cycles. In the mid-1950s, my mother would never sign anything with her own first name; it just wasn't done. It was signed as "Mrs." before my father's name. That was a married woman's identity; in some ways we have moved forward a long way in the past half-century even if the glass ceiling has yet to be fully shattered.
Another curiosity: at that time, the school system in Detroit (as in many other communities) operated strictly on a semester system. Children entered kindergarten in either September or January, depending on birthday. And high school seniors graduated in January or June when they completed 12th grade. Since I started school in January, I graduated in January. The grade "12A" on the front of the card indicates that this report is for my 2nd semester in the 12th grade. The first 12th grade semester, which had begun the previous January, was "12B."
The listing of courses is rather sparse. I was a graduating senior and I was able to have a relatively light load my last semester; my 2nd semester of Chemistry, 4th of composition and 3rd of Journalism. Economics was required. During my 1st 12th grade semester I took Trigonometry (which at that time was the highest level of math offered in high school in Detroit unless you were at a "technical" high school"). The periods of the day for which students had no classes, they were assigned to Study Hall. I still remember Henrietta Carr, my study hall counselor, who oversaw the records, progress and behavior of all the members of my family.
An interesting sidelight: When I graduated, I completed 2 generations of our family to attend Central High School, although when my parents were students, the school was in a different location (which later became and still is the Old Main building at Wayne State). To my knowledge, the Central my generation of Cohen's attended is still there and in use. I last was in the building when I went back for my 35th reunion.
Oh, the memories this old report card has conjured up. It just seems fitting to share it on my birthday.
My first presidential election was 1960 and I proudly cast my ballot for John F. Kennedy. It was a transforming election; JFK was the first Catholic elected President of the U.S. He brought class to Washington. And although he was taken from us too soon to have a major, direct impact on national policy and culture, Lyndon Johnson was successful in bringing about much of what Kennedy had laid out, most notably the Civil Rights Act of 1964 which led to a changing of the demographics of American voters and helped establish the framework that made possible the outcome of the 2008 election.
Today is the beginning of another new era, the result of last November's election. Today was President Barack Obama's inauguration. He is the first person of color to hold the highest office in the land. And it has been a very emotional day. Not just for me but, apparently, for most Americans. Every seasoned commentator I have heard on TV today has said that there never has been an inauguration like this one. The last estimate I heard was that there were about 1.9 million people attending the event in Washington. There was laughter and tears. It must have been the biggest party ever seen in this country.
Obama's inaugural address was brilliant. To use a phrase I think I first uttered after hearing JFK address the American people on January 20, 1961, we now have a President who is both literate and literary. But I truly believe the changes that are coming are more than just in the improvement of the language and style of our new leader. While skeptical when he announced his candidacy 2 years ago, I have come to believe that Obama is a man of substance, in his view of governing, his policy preferences and his temperament.
In spite of the derision of his early work in community organizing by partisan opponents, it is that experience that taught him to listen and to trust people to give back to their country. As editor of the Harvard Law Review, the young Obama could have clerked for a Supreme Court justice or had his choice of jobs in prestigious law firms when he graduated from law school. But he chose to go back to Chicago and work with the community; he believed in people and he worked to convince them that they could empower themselves. When he stands up there and tells the crowds, "this is all about you", I believe him. He has walked that walk.
So I am looking forward to the next 8 years as we work our way out of the economic morass that Obama has inherited. I am looking forward to again having leaders who listen and who want this country to earn the friendship and respect of people and leaders from around the world. I know we are better than the public face of the outgoing administration. I am confident that Barack Obama will steadily lead us in a renewal of all that is good about America. Amen!
His name jumped out at me as I glanced at the obituary page of the Los Angeles Times this morning. W.D. Snodgrass, "Pulitzer winning poet and teacher. In truth, I hadn't seen the name in decades but it brought back many memories. I was a student at Wayne State University (in Detroit, Michigan) from 1956-1961. Snodgrass joined the faculty in 1958 and he was there for 10 years. In 1959, his first book, Heart's Needle was published and was awarded the Pulitzer Prize in poetry in 1960.
I never took a class from Professor Snodgrass, but I did attend a few of his on-campus poetry readings. The details from 50 years ago are cloudy in my mind but I remember him as a man one does not easily forget. I also remember the hoopla on campus when he won the Pulitzer for Heart's Needle.
Our paths crossed ever so briefly when I was a young undergraduate student with a minor in English. While I had not thought about him for many years, he was not forgotten. I was saddened to read the news Snodgrass' passing. May his poetry live on. May he rest in peace.
It must have been a good New Year's celebration. It's been a week since I last wrote anything. And it has been a good and busy week. New Year's Eve was spent with friends; movie (Frost/Nixon), dinner and back to our house for desert and greeting 2009.
And then an anniversary! Donna and I were married on New Year's Day in 1981. She has put up with me for 28 years which is no small feat to which both she and previous wives can attest. Basically, it was a quiet day. No offspring around this year. We did get out to dinner although our preferred restaurant was closed.
We also began the search for an appropriate anniversary gift. Many years ago we established a tradition of buying a mutual gift rather than giving each other separates gifts on this momentous day. Usually it takes several days or weeks before the purchase is made.
This year we decided to join the 21st century and buy a High Definition television set (HDTV). We visited several stores and learned about such things as LCD v. plasma, 1080p v. 770p and 120 Hz v. 60 Hz. Then we started revisiting stores, leaving one when the salesperson who only wanted to sell us the most expensive brand proceeded to lie to us and say that an opposing store did not sell the brand we were interested in (although I had seen that brand at the opposition the day before). We moved on and ended up at our friendly Costco where, much to my surprise, we found the most knowledgeable, least pushy sales person. Needless to say, we bought ourselves a 42" LCD, 1080p, 120 Hz set at Costco (with the added n bonus of an additional 2 year warranty at no extra cost).
Once home, Donna and I started the unpacking/setting-up process. Luckily, son Seth stopped buy which sped things up dramatically and we are now enjoying high definition television. It is a far cry from the 10" Philco my father brought home in 1948 when an appliance store owner client of his couldn't pay his legal fees and provided us with the "first TV on the block" instead. (In those days we watched a lot of test patterns and I remember watching the Howdy Doody show and Milton Berle's comedy hour sponsored by Texaco. It was long before coaxial cables and live TV and all the new fangled stuff.)
Hopefully, I will not become too enamored of the new TV; that might take me even further away from my writing. Now that the anniversary gift is taken care of, I plan to get back to regular posts and more focus on family history, events and photos. And knowing how my mind works (or doesn't work), I might even repeat some things I've said in the nearly 2 years I've been a member of the blogosphere.
So welcome to 2009 and thank you for stopping by and checking on what The Ancient One has to say. If you're in the neighborhood, come see our new TV.
Well, another year has passed and The Ancient One is delighted to be sending out greetings and wishes for a wonderful 2009. Our family holiday letter this year, penned by Donna, ended with, "We wish you all a year of joy and fulfillment, health and peace of mind, and for all of us a new start, a renewed spirit, and the love and affection of friends and family."
While I generally avoid political statements in these meanderings, I do feel that we are coming to the end of an 8 year national nightmare. While I have no illusions about the economy turning around immediately after January 20, I am hopeful that we are entering a new era that will gradually bring peace, prosperity and respect for what this country stands for. I am looking forward to a national leadership that listens to people and other nations and does not simply try to impose a narrow view of what is right and wrong on the rest of the world.
So, to all of you who pass this way, have a Happy New Year. I look forward to hearing about your thoughts and the events in your lives as they unfold in the coming year.
Life is good! Let us all enjoy what we have and strive to make it better.
At sundown this evening the 8 day festival of Hanukkah begins.
Donna has decorated the house for the holiday. Both outside:
And inside (including many of the Hanukkiah she has collected over the years):
In the course of my lifetime, the celebration of Hanukkah has changed drastically. It was not a gift giving holiday. But that has changed; as Christmas became more commercialized, so did Hanukkah as the Jewish version of gift giving. The nightly candle-lighting tradition remains as does playing dreidel games and the food, especially potato latkes (pancakes) of which I still partake unofficially and in moderation. (Please don't tell my cardiologist!)
It is nearly 27 years since I left Illinois and moved to southern California. I had worked for 9 years at Sangamon State University (now the University of Illinois at Springfield). I was originally hired as Director of the Illinois Legislative Staff Internship Program which I headed for about 7 years. I also was the founding Director of the Illinois Legislative Studies Center at SSU.
So, it is understandable that I have been watching, with great interest, as the latest political scandal in Illinois is revealed; the alleged "selling" of Barack Obama's Senate seat by Governor Rod Blagojevich. All that I have been reading this week seems familiar. Many journalists have made reference to the way politics have been in Illinois for a very long time. From the years I was there, I even remember one popular, likable state official who was indicted for getting benefits from state contracts he awarded each year. It seemed to me as the case unwound through the legal system that he never understood what he had done wrong; he was just conducting business-as-usual in the state capitol.
The more I have read this week, the more I realized how much has stayed the same since I left Springfield. I guess that some things just never change!
I remember exactly where I was 45 years ago today when I first heard that President John F. Kennedy had been assassinated. Everyone who had any awareness of JFK death on that day can tell you exactly where they were when they heard the news. The Ancient One was standing at the coffee pot on the 3rd floor of Caldwell Hall at the University of North Carolina where graduate students (his position in life at the time) and faculty gathered at various times during the day for caffeine and conversation.
This year there is additional depth to those memories. Kennedy was the first Catholic to be elected President. I remember the hope for a better future that he represented for many of us. This year Barack Obama as President-elect represents another first in the evolution of American political culture. And for the majority of us, he brings hope for significant changes in the role of the United States on the world stage as well as in this country.
