Everybody Comes To Rick's

'' Round up the usual suspects!'' ''We will always have Paris.'' ''Play it , Sam. Play 'As Time Goes By' ''. These lines are, of course, from ''Casablanca''. If you have never seen the movie, then Mr. Scoleri has given you an assignment to watch it. The movie was on the other day, and, even though I have seen it countless times, I watched it again.... Great movies never get old. The same is true of great music. No matter how many times you see or listen to something, it feels just right to the soul. ''Casablanca'' was a movie I first encountered in my early twenties. The legend had already been enshrined around it for about fifty years. Now, I must confess, I liked it when I first saw it , but, I didn't love it. I didn't get why this movie, which was dated by modern times, should have such a ferocious following. It was a simple love story , nothing more. I am smiling writing this because it shows you how wrong I was then in my youth. The fact it was dated was one of its charms. The movie was made in the spring and summer of 1942. War had just come to the United States the previous December. Americans were shocked, angry, and frightened. The feeling is in every scene in the movie. With the advantage of hindsight, we all know we came out of the war supreme, but, that sense of doom helped drive the story along. There is a tendency of modern audiences-- particularly younger moviegoers, who do not seem to care about anything that happened before they were born-- to see some of the scenes as unrealistic. That is their mistake, I believe. A movie should be viewed with no preconceived notions about how much better it would have been made today. Add to the fact that this movie has a historical legacy, then modern viewers tend to dismiss it quicker. I believe that was my problem when I first saw it. The film grew for me with repeated viewings. Great movies also do this every time you watch: you pick up a little nugget of joy that you never saw before.... ''Casablanca'' first started out as a play in the 1930's. It was called ''Everybody Comes To Rick's''. When sold to Warner Brothers, the name changed . Believe it or no, Ronald Reagan was the first choice to play Rick. Imagine that!!! Wiser heads prevailed, and, Humphrey Bogart was given the role. In time, Reagan found work in another profession.... The cast came together. Ingrid Bergman as Ilsa. Paul Henreid as the valiant Victor Lazlo. The great Claude Rains as Louis Renault. Doolie Wilson as the piano player, Sam. And, Conrad Veigt, playing the Nazi villian Major Strasser. All of them shine in their roles. But, a little history of the production shows their was a lot of tension on the set. Bogart and Bergman were cold to each other. Henreid hated most of his fellow actors. The cast was worried that the script was being made up on the fly each day. Sometimes, tension on a movie set can create havoc. Sometimes it can create magic. The latter applied here.... I will not go over the story, preferring not to spoil it for those who haven't seen it. One thing I would like to touch on is why this movie is always included on the lists of ''Most Romantic'' films of all time. I see some romance in it at various points in the film, but, the overwhelming feeling of the story is loss. Lost Love. Lost Hope. Lost Dreams. All of these in a Lost World. Consider Rick and his feelings for his great love, Ilsa. He spents most of the movie licking his wounds on having lost her. Theirs was a whirlwind courtship. Both fell for each other rather quickly. He was hurt from his earlier life, and, she had a recent tragedy also, when they found each during that magical time in Paris. Then, they lost the love they had for each other.... There is also the people who hang out at ''Rick's Cafe Americana'' who desperately cling to the desire of getting their papers, somehow, and fleeing Casablanca. Almost every night they fail. Lost hope and dreams... Meanwhile, the evil of the Nazi march is everywhere. The arrogance of their behavior, and, the contempt of them by the regulars, creates that Lost World feeling. Among this band of sad souls, the world is no longer kind and hopeful. Rather, distrust and fear are the paramount feelings[ one of my favorite parts of the movie is when Bogart tells Strasser to be careful of invading New York because of how dangerous it is]. Looking at the movie from one angle, these people lead desperate and depressing lives... And, yet... There is the other side of loss: the possibility to renew ones life and start again. That is what I, finally, take away from them. They never give up, as we humans should never do. They find little joys in their lives that add up to satisfaction, however, small it may be. It says it all during the climax at the airport... And, that ending, well, many female friends of mine still find it unbelievable that Bergman goes with Henreid and not Bogart. Perhaps, but, a life with Bogart would have involved endless headaches and heartaches. He was a rogue, never to be tied down. This man Rick was an iron man with a soft heart. This may be attractive in the short run, but, most likely, an uncertain lfe would await her. With Henreid's Victor Lazlo, she would be with a hero, who would give her the good life once the war was over. Lazlo would, after the war, probably have gone into politics and been with the movers and shakers in Washington--- well, on second thought, maybe, she might have done better with Rick after all.... One last thing to note. That bar. That wonderful bar that Rick ran. As someone who has appreciated bars in my life, I would love to own a place like that!! Gambling in the back. An orchestra playing up front. The piano player shooting out the lively tunes. A little danger from the bad guys and the good guys mixing it up. Corruption and decency battling it out every night.... And me sitting in a white dinner jacket, with a bottle, a cigar, and, the pretty dames....

A Christmas Story

The holidays are here, and with their arrival there is the hustle and bustle of current activity. We all run around for those special gifts for your loved ones. There is the promise of time off from work and eating fattening foods and drinking a beverage or three and sleeping at your own pace. Sure, we run around at times, but, at this time, with the year also ending, it is a time to take stock of the present. And, to drift back to the past... If you have some years under your belt, like I have, you have the times of your life that you remember. The ghosts of Christmas past are very vivid and very near to you. I remember the gifts we got as kids. Between the 3 kids, there was always the friendly competition of who has the most presents piled up under the tree. One year it was me, the next year Brother Tom, and the next Sister Lisa. If you won, there was a slight smiling satisfaction of first place. My parents weren't playing favorites, of course. They spent the same amount on all of us according to our needs. You realize things a little better as you grow older and the Christmas bills come at you, but, Mom and Dad had a money tightness all of their lives. And, yet, they never disappointed us. We weren't spoiled, we knew how things were. Though it put them in a financial hole, we got our gifts. Don't get me wrong, we were middle class-- we didn't go without-- it was just we had a budget that the family adhered to. And, with those gifts, we also got the most precious thing they gave us: their unselfish and eternal love. I value nothing more in life than that...  There was always the matter of putting up the Christmas tree. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Not in my family.We MEN--- Tommy, Dad, and me-- would start out every year putting our artificial tree together. The endless boxes of ornaments and lights were the first order of business. My Dad never threw anything away so we had to test the same lightbulbs EVERY year. Most had burned out from the previous year, but, Dad, God Love Him,  insisted on keeping them. This was not wise, however. One year, after using the same lights that probably went back decades, we soon began to notice an odd smell coming from the tree. Sure enough, the tree was on fire!!! Not a raging inferno, but, enough to set off the smoke detectors. And, what screams Christmas more than smoke detectors, huh? After putting the fire to bed, Dad ruefully looked at the lights and said, '' Maybe, we need new ones.''... Back to putting up the tree, the three MEN  would instantly argue about how it looked. ''One side was crooked!!! No, it isn't!!''...''The ornaments seemed all wrong!!! That is because you made them wrong in school, brother!!!''...'' The star on top needed more support!! You don't know how to do this!!!''... The Three Wise Men at some point would get so mad at each other that we would walk away from the tree. And, then, my Mom would come in and quietly and perfectly solve the problem by putting up the most beautiful tree you have seen. The One Woman solving the problems The Men did. Mom did that a lot in our lives... Came dinner time on Christmas Eve. The night before Christmas was always us because Dad insisted on us being there. He said he wanted the family together. On Christmas Day, if we wanted to go other places, that was fine, but, Christmas Eve he wanted the family around him. Mom and Dad would also invite family and friends who had no other place to go on Christmas Eve. They didn't want anyone to be alone. This was what they were about. Two kind people who wanted people around them to share in the love of the family. They cared about other people. And, there was always a small gift for those ''orphans'' to open... At dinner, we would all gorge ourselves with lobster and shrimp. While cooking the fish, there would be tasty appetizers to munch on and some adult beverages. There would be plenty of spirited conversations and some serious arguing about whatever. They were arguments and disagreements only a family could have. No bad or hurt feelings would come of it.  Because it would always come back to the love we had for each other.... After dinner and the opening of presents, there came the silent, easy way of us enjoying each other's presence. It had been a long year. The constant struggle that confronts all of us in the real world was a distant memory. A sense of peace and joy of having family close was our feeling. We fought the world, but, that was on the other side of the front door. Here, in the warmth by the fire, was what family was meant to be. Quiet and relaxing. Occasionally, I would stick my head outside and feel the night. All the world seemed as one. No one was ever going to break this family up.... Death did... One by one, the family slowly went away. I always had the thought in the back of my mind that our time together wasn't permanent. However, it seemed to go away overnight. For every addition-- like my wonderful nephews-- there was a subtraction. First Tommy. Then Dad. Then my Grandmother. Then Mom. In a few years they were gone, never again to share the magic of us all being together on Christmas.... Now, many years later, we have a new family. The little runts who are my nephews have become grown men with children of their own. Lisa and I are still standing. We are the Old Guard. We are the people are parents were so long ago. And, we have with us the traits, and, I believe, the goodness, of my parents souls. We have carried on the tradition, inviting family and friends and ''orphans'' with no place to go, over to her house for Christmas Eve. We are spreading the oldest and best tradition there is: FAMILY. Love. Be there for each other. That is at the heart of  our family legacy, as I hope it is for your family. The love we spread to the next generation after we are gone. I am confident that feeling will continue forever.... In Heaven right now? Oh, I can tell exactly what is happening: God is telling Dad to throw away the old Christmas lights... Dad and Tommy are fighting over the Christmas tree in Heaven... My Grandmother is making some gravy... And, Mom is anchoring all the madness around her with a smile... Merry Christmas To You And Your Family, Everyone!!!

It's A Wonderful Movie

'' The Greatest Gift'' was a short story that Philip Van Doren Stern tried to peddle in 1939. No one seemed interested in the story of a man  finding himself. This was still the Depression, and World War Two was just around the corner. So, after striking out with producers and agents, he made the short story even shorter. He condensed it into a Christmas card and sent it to 200 people. Eventually, the card and story made its way around all the studios. One major director saw it. His name was Frank Capra.... Capra saw the story in 1945 after getting out of the military. The war had just ended and Capra, after seeing the horrors of war, decided he wanted to make something that lifted the spirits of the population again. He had a history of doing this. He made '' Mr. Smith Goes To Washington'' and ''Meet John Doe'' before the war. All of Capra's films had the same theme: a good man fighting injustice in the world, and ultimately, triumphing over adversity to restore the goodness of life and human spirit. Capra decided to make the movie and he changed the title to ''Its A Wonderful Life''.... Now, we all have seen the movie. It has become a stable for annual viewings every Christmas. It is the ultimate family movie. And, we all shed a tear or two at the end when George Bailey comes back home to his family. The images and feelings of this movie have stayed in us for all of these years because, quite simply, we identify with George. We all had the dreams of big ideas and limitless dreams, but, as we all know, reality knocks you down and you settle for what you have. The redemption of George, and, of us as the viewer, is that as time goes on you cherish what you do have. Family, friends, the little moments of pleasure that add up to a wonderful life. It is all in the movie. George gradually accepts his fate and realizes how blessed he truly is. We do also as we age... The running strength in the movie is the cast. Jimmy Stewart was, simply put, America's star. He was the Everyman. From the first moment on screen, you want all the best for this man. Decency and sweetness can sometimes be very hard to project on screen. Stewart does it here-- in fact, in almost any role he did-- but, in this movie he achieves the perfect performance. Stepping back from the story, George Bailey has been dealt quite a bad hand in life, but, through Stewart we root for Bailey to succeed. When he gets knocked down time and time again, we also feel the brunt of the disappointment... As his loyal wife Mary, Donna Reed has the patience and soul of an angel. Loving George from childhood, this strong woman not only gives George children and homelife, but, also, compassionately consoles George after life kicks him down time and time again. This is a good woman. Whatever dreams she may have had, she lets go of them for the love of her husband. It pains her to see George so unhappy. She tries to sooth the troubled demons that lurk in him. Perhaps, more than George sees in himself, she knows that once he lets go of what might have been, he will see what a kind and good man he truly is.... The town of Bedford Falls doesn't really exist. It should, however. It is a town in America where everyone knows everybody and cares about each other [ except for Mr. Potter, played brilliantly by Lionel Barrymore]. The cops, Burt and Ernie--- yes, '' Sesame Street'' took those two names because Jim Hensen loved the movie so--, Violet Bick, Uncle Billy, Mr. Gower, and, good ole Clarence The Angel. We know them so well from watching the movie many times that they also feel like family. We feel pain for their losses in life, too. These are simple people, but, life also had chipped away at them. Although it is never gone into deeply, Violet seems to me to be classified as a loose woman in town. Therefore, she is excluded and shunned. Only George takes pity on her. At the end, she is redeemed also. How, it is not said, but, she shares with George a sense of self worth and awareness.... When Clarence enters the picture, he takes George back to Bedford Falls, now called Pottersville. I must say, it does look like a fun little town if you watch a touch of Las Vegas, but, I will stick with the story as is. George goes through the ritual of not being born and seeing the results. This is another area where I think the viewer has visited in his or her own mind. If you weren't born, then what? If you are a parent, obviously your children would not exist [or, would in some other form with your partner with someone else]. Would those children be the same people without your genes and personality? Would your parents have had a rougher life without you? Would the love of your life be with someone else and be miserable, or, in Mary's case, a lonely soul? Would your friends be harsher and less joyful if you were never in their lives?... All of these scenarios are touched on in the movie and give all of us a pause for thought. Yes, we all do touch other people's lives in our own way. Some touch strongly, some touch gently. Some bring knowledge and wisdom, some bring simplicity and sweetness. But, we do touch and connect. If , as they say so powerfully in the movie, '' No man is a failure who has friends'', then you are just as rich and blessed as any millionaire. More so, I believe. Because you are accepted on a pure level of someone caring for you because you are you, not your money or power. It is an acceptance of the heart and soul which is the basis of all human behavior. Mr. Potter has more money than most people, but, would you want to be him at the end or George Bailey?..... And, that end!! That wonderful end!!! Show me a person who doesn't cry at the end of the story and I will show you someone who did not understand the movie. Crying is a form of love. You cry in an argument and you cry when a loved dies. Why are you crying? Because you love the person. And, we love George Bailey and his loved ones, too. They deserve our love. These are good people in that far away from reality town. Fictional characters, to be sure. But, the lives they lead and the passion to care will never be fictional.... Frank Capra and Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed and most of the cast are gone now. Wherever they are I hope it is a little like Bedford Falls. With them dancing over the floor that turns into a swimming pool. Singing about ''Buffalo Gals''. And, knowing that they aren't failures because generation after generation considers them friends.... Hee Haw!!!!!!

The Day The Music Died: December 8th, 1980

John Lennon never refused an autograph request. Going back as far as he could remember there was always someone waiting there in his life for his signature on a piece of paper. So, when the fat fan in the Hawaiian shirt approached him silently, he knew to sign. The fan held out Lennon's latest album ''Double Fantasy'' out for the star to sign. Lennon bent over to write. At that moment, an amatuer photographer, Paul Goresh,  who hung around the building where Lennon and Yoko Ono lived, The Dakota, zoomed in with his camera to catch the shot of Lennon with the fan. He got it. John asked the fan if that was all that he wanted. The fan, stricken silent by the great star, said nothing and backed away. John and Yoko then got into their waiting limo to take them to the recording studio. The fan asked Goresh if he had the picture of him and Lennon, and Goresh said he was sure he did. Almost six hours later, the fan became a killer... After five years of self- imposed retirement, John Lennon, in the fall of 1980, had his batteries recharged for the public. He turned the milestone age of 40 in October, and, he and his wife, Yoko Ono, had released their comeback album, ''Double Fantasy'' in November, to brisk sales and tremendous public interest. By December, the Lennons were planning the follow up to the album and a possible world tour. John, after so many years of searching and self improvement to ease his childhood pain, seemed , finally, to be content and happy in his role of father and husband. By December the 8th, the dark clouds and demons were gone. Ahead, lay a new beginning... In the limo on the way to the recording studio, John chatted with a San Francisco DJ named Dave Sholin. Sholin was sharing the limo with the Lennons after doing a radio interview with them that afternoon. Sholin asked some follow up questions of John about Paul McCartney. John said that he loved Paul like a brother and would do anything for him. Sholin feelings about John that day are of a man deeply in love with life and full of energy. When the limo dropped John and Yoko off at the studio, Sholin and his crew went straight to the airport with the interview tapes. It was John's last interview... At the studio, John and Yoko said hello to their producer, Jack Douglas. All three, for the last two weeks , had been working on a song of Yoko's called , ''Walking On Thin Ice.'' The hope was to have the song out for Christmas of 1980. When David Geffen, the head of their record label, arrived, the button was pushed and Yoko's song came blasting out. By common consenses, it was the best thing she had ever recorded [ which isn't saying much]. Smiles went around the room as all agreed that this should be rushed out for the holidays. After Geffen left, John and Jack Douglas talked quietly. What they talked about is something that Douglas has always kept mum about, but, he has hinted in interviews that John was talking about death. Douglas says that John always was very candid about living a short life. Perhaps, John felt his life ending soon and was resigned to the inevitable. Whatever his feelings that night, John soon snapped out of his morbid talk and said he and Yoko were leaving to get something to eat and invited the producer to join them. Jack Douglas declined, but, he would see them bright and early the next morning. He reports John and Yoko got in the elevator, waved and smiled at him, and, wished him a good night. The elevator closed. Jack Douglas never saw John the next day... The limo pulled in front of the Dakota at 10:45 PM. John had decided to stop home first to see their son, Sean, before going out to eat. Yoko got out of the car first, followed by John. He was carrying the cassette of her song in his hand. Waiting, just off the archway to the building, was the fat fan from Hawaii. Yoko walked by him and then John. The killer said later that Lennon gave him a hard look, as if maybe, John recognized him from earlier. We will never know because that is when the first shot was fired.... It all happened very fast. Five bullets shot. Lennon staggering up the steps, somehow, he managed to keep going before collapsing on the ground. Yoko screaming. The security guard pressing the button to the police station. The killer calmly picking up his book to read after the shooting.... The police arrived a few minutes later. The first car there grabbed the killer and handcuffed him. A second car pulled up soon after. The policemen, James Moran and Bill Gamble, approached the victim. They saw a small Oriental woman weeping over a fallen man. Blood was pouring out of his mouth and chest. At first, the cops didn't recognize the victim, but, they knew he was dying. They put John in the back of their squad car and Yoko soon followed in a backup car. Racing through the streets of New York to Roosevelt Hospital, they were in a race with time. Moran looked back at John and asked him if he knew who he was. John moaned yes. It was his last word.... The emergency room at Roosevelt knew John Lennon was a goner. But, they worked on him with all of their skills. He had lost too much blood. Finally, they gave up. These battle scarred veterans of the emergency room-- who had seen every horror in their job--- started crying. They knew who was lying there... Word leaked out to the world. Howard Cosell announced it on ''Monday Night Football''. Soon, crowds gathered outside the hospital and the Dakota. People were crying for John Lennon, but, also, for themselves. With his passing, a chapter of a whole generation had closed. Their youth was now gone. Certain people in history, like JFK, die, and suddenly, we all feel older and our own mortality feels closer to us. John Lennon was a star, to be sure, but, for millions of people, he was also one of us. We had lost a bright light... I had just turned 15 years old on December 8, 1980. I wasn't quite the Beatle fan I am now, but, something, even then, seemed very sad to me. In time, I grew to love the Fab Four and their fearless leade. I still  mourn the loss of this imperfect but very human rebel/musician/peacenik/househusband. God, it is 31 years ago, but, in many ways, it feels like yesterday.... And, I will always believe in yesterday....

Coming Home

If it all goes as planned, the troops now in Iraq will be coming home by the end of the year. It looks good, but, there could be a blip in the radar and some could stay. Let us hope for the best. Hope has been the key word since this war started in 2003... In the aftermath of the madness of September 11, there was a frenzy in the air for revenge. You remember it and so do I. Perhaps, you had a touch of it yourself. Let us bring these bastards that killed our fellow citizens to justice, somehow. We went into Afghanistan in October of 2001 and that seemed like the correct response. The Taliban held a stronghold there and Bin Laden and his henchmen were hiding there, so, lets go get them. The initial operation went as smoothly as expected and the government fell. Afterwords, it seemed the remaining question was how long to stay and prop up a new government. That is still an open question at the end of 2011..... All during 2002 we heard about Iraq and the connection to 9/11 and weapons of mass destruction. The weapons part was nothing new: Hussain had them for decades and used them on his own people and his enemies. Now, our government was saying we had to go in there and topple them to maintain stability in the Middle East [ an area that has never been stable throughout centuries]. It was the next step, we were told, in our ''War On Terror''. Perhaps, but, I remember thinking, ''Now? We still have the battle in Afghanistan to end, and, that is turning out bloodier than we planned.'' But, when we went in in March of 2003, I supported the action.... Well, we all know what happened in the following years. Like a stick poking a hornet's nest, all hell broke loose, with suicide bombers, terrorists destroying towns and people, and, our servicemen and women being killed. Every day, every month, seemed to bring fresh horror. The weapons of mass destruction scenario proved false, and, Iraq had no connection to 9/11. So, we were stuck there. We couldn't pull out without the whole damn thing coming apart. And, yet, staying there was intolerable. Thousands of brave miliatry people and countless innocent citizens were being killed or maimed. The years staggered by with grim news of no progress. Finally, in 2007, the surge seemed to tone down the violence and some peace seemed to have arisen. An agreement was reached at the end of 2008 between the Bush administration and the new Iraq government to pull out by the end of 2011.... That is where we are at. Now, comes the assessment of our time there. Was it worth it? Will the new government be democratic and maintain the peace and our financial interests in the area? Or, will the same violence return after we leave?... I am pessimistic, I must say. I think the violence will come back. I think thousands, perhaps, millions of people will be killed in the future. It just seems to be the way of life in that area. Fighting over land and religion goes hat in hand in that volatile region. I pray I am proven wrong, but, I fear I will be right... But, the immediate attention must be towards our returning vets and those who are already home. These brave men and women have seen the horror that forever alters a person's view of life. How they survive here is the duty and obligation of every American. We must find jobs for them. We must give them the health care they need. We must never forget what they have done for us... These are the feelings we all should believe, but, simple words do not always dissolve into action. After every war we have fought, this was the plan for the vets. But, as history as shown us, many appalling examples of neglect, and, just plain hostility, is the lot for many of the heroes. The government may refuse to pay for a operation to restore the ability to walk. The government may not find adequate housing for the vets family. The government may cut off benefits entirely and soon, the vet is homeless and on the street begging the people he or she protected for some loose change. We know this happens. We know the stories. And, WE MUST, FOR ONCE, TELL THESE SHYSTERS, WHO RUN OUR LIVES IN GOVERNMENT, TO TAKE CARE OF THESE VETERANS-- AND, ALL VETERANS OF BATTLE-- AND, NOT PULL THE SAME GOVERNMENT BULLSHIT THEY HAVE DONE FOR DECADES!!!... To do otherwise would be inhuman and not in the spirit that this country was built on. Lincoln called it ''The Better Angels Of Our Nature.'''... Whatever your thoughts on the Iraq war should not interfere in what we owe them. They will be applauded when they come home and, rightly so.... It would be even more American to remember them after they have been home....

Random Thoughts- November 2011

The ''Occupy Wall Street'' protest movement seems to be going strong after two months. I am on the fence with this cause. On the one hand, the greed that corporate America has shown, with the bankrupting of peoples lives, needs to have a strong spotlight shown on it. These vipors, who hide behind the slimmest of laws, have to be reined in. And, the genuine frustration and anger of the protesters is very valid. The other side of the protests, however, is disquieting. As with any legitimate issue, there is another set of vipors who rear their ugly heads. These are the exploiters of an issue. They make money on the protests. If you watch some of the protesters, they are wearing ''Occupy America'' shirts. Where is the money from the sale of these shirts going? The protesters do not seem to understand that they are now feeding into the hands of the very people they are protesting. They court the media, another limb on the arm of Big Business. The lunatic fringe starts problems with fighting and destruction of property and stopping hard working Americans from going to work. This happened with the Civil Rights and Vietnam marches in the sixties. The right moral side  of an issue mixed with the chaos of exploiters. My small advice to these mostly well intentioned people is to now focus in on the politicians who are wrapped in Big Business and peacefully become a part of their lives. No harm or violence should be involved. But, become a thorn in their sides. You might make a little more headway there... I heard The Beatles ''Across The Universe'' the other day again. This song, my favorite Beatles song, once again shows why they continue to be the most important musical force in history. The song was written in 1968. John Lennon tells of how the song literally drove him out of bed one night. He couldn't sleep until he put it down on paper. The words ''Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy'' kept going through his head. John sat down at the piano and it all came spilling out. This was one example where John always said that he didn't write these songs so much as '' be the channel'' for them to come into this world. The recording of the song, however, was another story for John. He always claimed he didn't sing it well enough and hated how it sounded. This seems like a remarkably harsh statement on Lennon's part. John was notorious for not liking the sound of his voice anyway, which is why there is a lot of echo on Lennon songs. I think he sounds perfect on the record. He was the Beatles strongest singer anyway-- taking nothing away from Paul. The chant '' Jai Guru Deve Om'' in the chorus comes from the Beatles infatuation with the Maharishi and Eastern mysticisim. It all works in this work of art from these masters of song. And, check out the great movie ''Across The Universe'' from a few years ago.... On the other side of genius and taste sits Adam Sandler. How this guy continues to work and be popular has to be among life's great mysteries. His current movie has been trashed by the critics-- no surprise there-- but, surprisingly, also by his fans. It will make money, but, not as much as his other movies have. Perhaps, his audience is wising up. But, Al Pacino in it? Why, Al? Nicholson sunk to Sandler's level in the horrible ''Anger Management''. Didn't that give you pause, Al? I have never found anything about Adam Sandler the least funny, but, one issue must be addressed: the voice he uses in his movies. He must think of it as his ''funny voice''. It is not. Instead, it sounds like he is making fun of mentally retarded people. Critics of him [ and, there are legions of them] have pointed this out when reviewing his work. Maybe, this is the secret of him appealing to the twelve year old boys crowd that is the core of his audience. At that age, boys think the sound of a grown man sounding like someone who is mentally challenged is funny. I do not.... And, finally, standing in the checkout line at the store the other day, I heard ''Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer'' again. I haven't really listened to it since I was a child. And, I was appalled at all that Rudolph went throught!!! He was a clear victim of bullying!!!! The other reindeers shunned him. Santa Claus looked the other way [ Santa must have worked at Penn State] and, finally, when there is foggy Christmas Eve and Santa and his minions needed Rudolph, only THEN could he become one of them. Rudolph saved the day and all the other reindeer loved him, but, if I was Rudolph, I would have told them all to go fuck themselves and fly the sled themselves. And, then while they were out, I would have nailed Mrs. Claus...

To Catch A Predator: Penn State

I know what I would have done. If I walked in on an adult man having sex in the shower with a ten year old boy I would have gone mad. I would charge the rapist, pull him away from the child, and, beat the living shit out of him. Then, I would ask the boy if he was ok. Then, a call to the police. My job, the school, the football program, would have no thought in my actions. A child was being molested and any other concerns at that time are very minor..... I know what I would have done. If I was the head coach of a football team and my assistant coach has been found molesting children, I would have alerted the authorities as soon as possible. The police, the administration, whomever I needed to let know. As a coach of young men-- hell, as a father and grandfather-- I would want this motherless fuck locked up and put away..... I know what I would have done. If I was the Athletic Director or the President of the University or the Vice President of Finance and Business, I would have gone to the police.... I know what I would have done. If I worked for the police department, and, I saw this investigation being pushed under the carpet because of the power of the school, I would have gone to the media. My job at that point is not as important as getting a pedophile off the streets to protect children... The scandal is quite astounding. And, the story has the potential to get even bigger. For a shocking and horrific description of what went on between Jerry Sandusky and the boys he attacked, there is the grand jury testimony transcript that you can access online. I would advise not to read it, however. Especially, if you are a parent. We all know what this monster did, but, to see it in black and white is nauseating. What he did, and, what the school did to cover all of this all up, is indecent and descipable. All in the name of keeping the glory of Joe Paterno and Penn State intact. Which means, money. Because that is the true bottom line in all of this. If Penn State wasn't such a cash cow for the NCAA and the State Of Pennsylvania, this would have come out years ago. Remember, this didn't happen last week or a few months ago with Sandusky, this happened OVER A 15 YEAR PERIOD!!!!! Are they really trying to make the public believe that the powers that be didn't know about what was happening? We know the story. We know about the cover up now. How can these men, who are parents, let this go on? Because of the mighty Penn State legacy?... At some point, you have to wonder when these powerful men in authority lost touch with being a human being. Most of us, well, we know what to do. But, they sold themselves to the devil long ago, with the reward being that they are involved with a powerful college football program, as if that matters in life. Whatever it takes to win is their motto. ''So what if the law and human decency get in the way in the march to glory and profits. We are Penn State!!! We are champions!!! The money is rolling in!!! Why should we care if some children are sexually and emotionally disturbed? We look at our trophies and all is forgotten''... But, all is not forgotten. In due time, justice will come to these people. First, the law of the land, and then, God will get them soon enough.... As in all abuse cases, the sympathy is with the victims. Little boys at the time. Little boys who were deprived of a carefree childhood, which is every child's right. Little boys who trusted a friendly stranger to make them feel a little better about living. Then, the horror set in and these boys will never be the same. That is the sad case with all victims of child abuse- the most horrific of human crimes. A child is not allowed to be a happy child. Instead, the trauma they experience will mark their soul forever... This is the heart of the Penn State story. It seems to be slowly sinking in to the protesters who foolishly believe Paterno and his ilk are the true victims. You can't really blame these college kids too much, they are young and easily manipulated by the school's propaganda machine. As they get older, they will see how power can trample over human decency.... I hope someday, when I die and I meet God, it can be explained to me why children suffer. Why such a person as Jerry Sandusky walks the earth. Why people such as Joe Paterno, Mike McQueary, Graham Spanier, Tim Curley, and, Gary Schultze allow this to go on without a care in the world.... My thoughts and prayers are with these victims, and, all victims of abuse. May they find peace in their souls....

Sweethearts Part 2

The cottage, or cabin by the lake, produced the best of times for the family. It was here that Jack taught the kids to fish. It was here that Claire, a born outdoors woman, showed the children to appreciate the beauty of the land. Many times, when the lake was just warm enough, there would be the dinnertime swims with the family. Jack wasn't much of a swimmer, so, it fell on Claire to teach the kids how to swim. Jack didn't mind his role on the sidelines during these moments. It gave him time to take stock of his life and family. He sure was blessed. The kids were growing up good, strong children. His wife and him had done well. And, Jack, would find himself staring at Claire with a love that seemed to grow stronger as the years went on.... As much as they both loved the kids, Jack and Claire had to concede that their favorite moments at the cabin didn't involve the kids. They took place at night, after the kids were tucked away. There was a big fireplace in the cabin. The lights would be turned low. Claire would make them both a drink, and, they would quietly lie by the fireplace in each other's arms. Jack loved to see the light from the fire reflect off of Claire's face. There was sometimes talk between them, but, more often than not, they shared a comfortable silence of love. With the madness of the world just beyond the door, here was a little piece of Heaven, snugly against a quiet fire... With great reluctance, the family would leave the cabin on Sunday nights-- but, not before seeing a heart stopping sunset from the lake-- and, return to normal life. The kids would start up at school, Jack would be selling his insurance, and, Claire would keep the family on track at home. Life hummed along quite normally as the years went by. And, as always, there was the cabin and that magical fireplace in it, that was their oasis...Then..... It started with a small lump under Claire's arm. At first, she ignored it. Then it became too painful to ignore. She went to the doctor and he delivered the grim results: it was cancer. And, it had spread all over her body. He gave her a year at the most. Devastated, she told her family. The kids couldn't believe it. Jack felt as though he had been told he had the cancer. Claire said she would fight it. She was a fighter and she would beat it, dammitt!! At first, she did. The first couple of months she beat the demon. But, the success was fleeting. The cancer wore her down. In and out of hospitals was her life now. She couldn't even visit the cabin anymore.... Jack came out on his memory. Claire seemed to be trying to awaken. It was just the two of them. He was tempted to have the nurse ring for his children in the cafeteria, but, decided against it. Claire opened her eyes one last time. He saw she was going to die. The tears were in his eyes. And, also in Claire's. Jack whispered that he loved her. Claire couldn't talk. She was holding his hand. A squeeze of her hand said the words back to him. Then, Claire closed her eyes for the final time... The family survived after Claire's death, but, Jack was never the same man again. His children were grown and he was proud of them. However, his Claire was gone, and, with her passing, his desire for life. Almost two years later, Jack joined his bride.... The children eventually sold the cabin. They couldn't bear to visit it again without their parents. So, it was sold in due time. A young couple bought it and started their memories with their children. Jack and Claire's children hoped that the new owners liked to lie by a fireplace...

Sweethearts Part 1

Jack looked down at the poor woman laying in the hospital bed. All stricken with the cancer that had been eating away at her body for the better part of a year. Her once beautiful, angelic face was almost unrecognizable. He saw the whiteness in her hair and the ghost pallor of her face. He just knew death was close for his wife. She was in and out of consciousness, but, when she was lucid, he thought she must have known death was near also. He was glad that the children were away for the night. He wanted to be alone with her. But, for right now, he just wanted to remember..... His mind took him back to when they were kids. Jack could remember the day when they met. He was 9. Claire was 7. It was in the schoolyard and for some reason the girls were chasing the boys trying to kiss them. Jack , at 9, was more interested in baseball than girls. But, for some strange reason he thought if this Claire girl wanted to trip him and kiss him, well, that wouldn't be bad. Looking back at that moment in later years, they both would say that moment was their first date. And, it happened: Jack had fallen--- maybe, a little more easily than he would have--- and, Claire said, ''Hi, my name is Claire and I claim you!'' With that, she planted a solid kiss right on his lips! Later, Jack would say it was the best kiss of his life.... Soon, they became friends. They were still young, so, there was no hanky panky going on, just a young boy and girl bonded in childhood. They discovered they lived close to each other, so, soon he was marching to her house almost everyday to play games after school. Their mothers got along well enough, as a matter of fact, both families cared deeply for each other. As Jack and Claire grew older and taller, there was quiet, behind the hand talk among the parents that these two might someday marry. It was done in whispers. Of course, they shouldn't hear the speculation.The parents didn't want to embarass the kids.... As teenagers, the stirrings of young adulthood soon arrived. Jack began to notice other young girls and Claire spotted the guys she liked. At first, they tried to express to each other these new feelings. For some reason, they failed to do so successfully. To tell Claire that he thought the girl in his class was cute seemed awkward for him. Claire shared the same feeling. That is when they both decided to try this new thing teenagers did called dating.... Oh, their first official ''date'' was awful funny!!! Jack made a big show about picking Claire up at her house to go to the movies. They had to be around 17 and 15 then. Jack borrowed his Dad's car and drove over to Claire's. Her mom answered the door with an almost knowing smile. Jack politely asked for Claire. Claire then emerged walking down the stairs. It was at the moment, seeing her all dressed up and looking more mature than he ever had seen her, that Jack fell in life with her. Never in his years of knowing her did that thought ever occur to him, but, now, he knew someday she would be his wife... From that moment on, they were together. After graduating school, Jack stayed close to home and got a job in an insurance company. Claire graduated a few years later and became a secretary. Both knew that they could have each gone away and started another life, as many of their friends did, but, they both knew the life they wanted: it was with each other.... They were married in in 1965. Jack was 22 and Claire 20. The day of the wedding dawned gloomy and rainy. Some people would have thought it was a bad omen for the marriage, but, not them. They were in love, the very embodiment of the term ''Childhood Sweethearts''. Jack was standing at the altar , waiting for her. Claire was brought down the aisle by her father. When her hand was given to him, he felt the feeling surge through his body. He knew he loved this woman with every fiber of his soul. Looking into her eyes during the ceremony, he saw the endless love that she had for him returning his gaze. It might have been gloomy outside , but, inside, it was filled with the golden sunshine of two people in love. They said their vows. They kissed. And, then their life together began... They bought a house near their families and filled that house with three children. Jack stayed with the insurance company until retirement and Claire was a stay at home mom-- the world's toughest job. They had their ups and downs like any couple. Moments of what might have been came through once in a while, but, very rarely. They both loved and liked each other. And, they adored their children. As a gift to each other and the children, Jack scrapped together enough money to buy a weekend cottage by a lake an hour away, up north....

One Man's Day Of Infamy

The ball seemed very much like it was going out of bounds. From his perspective, he knew the wind could have taken it many different ways. But, the people around him had the same thoughts because they were rising in anticipation also. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Moises Alou, the left fielder, coming towards the wall. The ball came closer. It then dropped into the group of fans around him, a few were his friends. Alou jumped, sticking his glove over the wall and slightly into the group of fans. Several hands reached for the ball. Steve Bartman had the best chance to grab it. It is a judgment call whether he interfered or not. At that moment, on live television beamed around the world, a man's destiny was forever altered.... ESPN has been running the new documentary ''Catching Hell'' about that moment and the impact it has had on Bartman's life. The film interviews many of the key people that night, including the fans around Bartman, Moises Alou, and, the security folks who got Bartman the hell out of there. Steve Bartman declined to be interviewed, a wise move. There is nothing to be gained for him to be featured.... What is so fascinating about this documentary is that it shows the human behavior around the central event. We all saw it. We debate whether he interfered. The hand held cameras in the crowd that night tell another side of the story that is rarely seen. And, that story is most disturbing. To actually hear and see the fans reaction is unbelievable. In the back of my mind, I knew that response by the crowd was always there, but, shoved abruptly in the viewers face is mindboggling. Almost immediately, Bartman was showered in verbal and physical abuse from the crowd. Security wisely moved in to protect him, but, that was a thankless job. From his seat, Bartman could hear the calls for his life from those around him and from the street. Of course, these weren't true Cub fans- every team in sports has the irrational lunatic fringe section that calls itself real fans. But, that doesn't matter when your life is being threatened. After several minutes, security took him and led him away. He was belted with beer and other objects. Going down the stairs, again with security his buffer between him and the crowd, there were several drunk fans he narrowly missed getting into a fight with. As we all know,  some foolish people act stronger and tougher when they have alcohol in there systems. Add to that the taunting of the crowd, and, suddenly Bartman is the most hated man in Cubdom. If the documentary has a flaw, it is that I wished some of those moronic fans were interviewed now. Their reactions would be invaluable. I would hope they have sobered and wised up to their behavior that night. If they haven't, then you have to fear their sanity.... Bartman was taken into the security room in the ballpark to wait out the end of the game. Sadly, the Cubs blew their lead in the game--- remember , they were only five outs away from a victory that would have sent them to the World Series. What is also shown in the film, and, also , forgotten by certain Cub fans, is how the Cubs imploded that night. Game 6 turned into a maze of errors and bad pitches. The bottom fell out after the Bartman play, but, Bartman was in the security office by then. He wasn't on the field, making the bonehead mistakes. In typical Cub fashion, they snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.... The most interesting part of this documentary is the interviews with the security that night. They performed their jobs remarkably that night and people have to remember that. One security woman, who lived around Wrigley Field, took Bartman to her apartment to get him out of harm's way. The media was already stalking him and he needed the shelter of a calm spot. She described him as not really being all in the moment, asking her what really happened. Bartman was in shock, as we all would be. At this point, if the viewer was not putting himself or herself in Bartman's position, then they have missed the whole point of the film. Human compassion is what was needed most for Bartman, and, he found it with this woman. After a long wait at her place, Bartman was taken home to his parents house where he lived. After that long night, he needed the love that only family could give him. By the morning, the world was at his parents front door, ready to pounce.... Helicoptors flew over his house. Talk radio was alive with his name, where he lived, and, all of his back history. The bulls eye on his back had grown. He couldn't leave his house. His life became torment. If those irrational Cub ''fans'' who threatened his life were the bad guys in the Bartman story, then the media became their sidekicks. One moment of trying to catch a ball became a lifetime of always looking over your back, wondering who was going to get you. The dark side of human behavior is not always terrorist acts or physical abuse, but, is also verbal abuse done to sensitive, normal human beings. Steve Bartman doesn't strike me as a evil man, far from it. Just an innocent victim who fate settled on one infamous night.... There is much more to the documentary, which I highly recommend. They drag out the whole ''Cubs Curse'' absurdity, complete with the '' Billy Goat'' story [ by the way, I have eaten at the Billy Goat Tavern and their cheeseburgers suck ] The filmmakers interview former Cub Bill Buckner, who also had misfortune drop on his soul in the 1986 World Series. It took many years for Buckner to deal with his error and the Red Sox fans reaction to him. Finally, within the last few years, Boston welcomed him back to throw out the first pitch. The crowd gave him a standing ovation and he was genuinely touched. All seemed forgiven.... I hope sometime soon Steve Bartman will be welcomed back to Wrigley Field to such fan support. He deserves it. Those who do not like the idea should stay away. Or, better yet, should crack open a famous book that was written years ago. In the Bible, there are plenty of passages that talk about compassion and redemption... And, nothing about the World Series....

The Quiet Beatle Part 4

Cancer wasn't foreign to the Fab Four. Various family and friends had died from the disease. George, like the other three, was a heavy smoker. In 1997, he discovered a lump in his throat. The doctors told him the news. The cancer was stopped temporarily, but, in time it would spread to his lungs, and, finally, to his brain.... In the middle of the night on December 29, 1999, George and Olivia were awakened by strange sounds from downstairs. Investigating the noise, George came across an intruder with a knife. George quickly said, ''Hare Krishna'' to the man, hoping that it would pacify him. It didn't. The man attacked George and stabbed him deeply in the chest. While the two men struggled , Olivia grabbed a lamp and began hitting the intruder over the head. Finally, the man collapsed, but, George was seriously wounded. He was taken to the hospital with internal bleeding. He almost died.... After the attack, he never really recovered. The final two years of his life, the cancer took over his body. In the summer of 2001, George knew he was a dying man. And, because of his faith, he was comfortable in spirit knowing that he was finally going to see the God he had been searching for. The only drawback, he knew, was that he would be leaving his loved ones. Throughout the last month of his life, George said goodbye.... Paul visited him in the hospital those final weeks. They had been on good terms for many years. They held hands for the entire visit. Two old friends who had seen and done so much. Ringo also saw George. The three didn't have to tell each other they loved each other, it was there and it was real. One day in Heaven that reunion will come between the four of them..... The last day, November 29, George was in and out of consciousness. Olivia said he was chanting the ''Hare Krishna'' prayer as he died... In Hindu tradition, George was cremated and his ashes were scattered in the Ganges river... So, what to make of this extraordinary man and life? He seemed to live in contradiction. I believe his naughty behavior were the steps he needed to take to find his peace. And, I do believe he got there at the end. Ultimately, it doesn't matter if he wasn't a saint--- he never claimed to be--- but, what he left us. Like John, George is best represented in his music. And, in the music, was a witty, intelligent, gentle, sincere man who wanted to bring love to the world. My heart still gently weeps for the ''Quiet Beatle'', which he wasn't by the way.... John, Paul, George, and Ringo made music that forever will be in our genetic systems, but, more importantly, they were very human men who had the flaws we all do. They are family. And, George was the son who showed us the beauty when the sun comes...

The Quiet Beatle

With the dawn of the new decade, George released the mammoth ''All Things Must Pass'' album. This three record album shot to the top of the charts, spawned a number 1 single in ''My Sweet Lord'', and, showed once and for all, that George was a bit of a musical genius in his own right. The title song was a not too veiled reminder to the public that his Beatle days were over and now we would all have to regard him as ''George Harrison''.... But, underneath the bravado lurked the darkness that was in his life. Pattie and him were not doing well--- George remained very much the player with women-- and, his spirituality was taking over his life. Pattie couldn't compete with both of those outside forces. George kept looking for the truth. Pattie wanted a normal life. They fought constantly. Added to the mix was that George's new best friend, Eric Clapton, was in love with Pattie[ the song ''Layla'' is about her]. Things were quite sticky at Friar Park. Then it got even stickier.... Rumor has it that there were a lot of instances where wife swapping took place. Allegedly, George took up with Ringo's wife Maureen, while Pattie shacked up with Ronnie Wood. Whatever the true story is, both George and Ringo ended their marriages-- and, Pattie went off with Clapton. This is the duality of George Harrison. On one hand a man searching for God. On the other, a very mortal man surrendering to the pleasures of the flesh. Interesting enough, all of this bizarre behavior among the rich rock stars didn't alter their feelings of love they had for each other. Perhaps, it was the life they were used to, where normal behavior has never flowered.... Throughout the 70's George released various albums to various acclaim and audience indifference. While the work of all the Beatles in their solo years is a mixed bag, the public still retained a strong love of the band. Constant requests for reunions. Of course, it never happened. George was reluctant. He also said that if John would do it, he would also. George loved Paul, but, had no desire to play music again with him. He wanted to be close again with John , though. But, the problem continued to be Yoko. John was secluded behind the thick walls of the Dakota building, almost like a prisoner. And, Yoko was the warden. In the last years of John's life, these two, who were once brothers in arms-- who, in another life, in another time, were teacher and pupil-- had virtually no contact with each other.... On the morning of December 9, 1980, George was asleep at home in England. The phone rang. His manager told him the news: John had been shot to death in New York. George put down the phone and said the Hare Krishna prayer for the dead. Not only would the Beatles never reunite, but, more importantly to George, he lost the one person , after God, who had the most influence on him. He cried himself back to sleep.... By the time of John's death, George was a new husband and father. He met Olivia Arias in 1974, and , perhaps for the first time in his life, he was truly in love. They had a son together, Dhani, born in 1978. George and Olivia became even more private after Lennon's death, naturally fearing for their own safety. That fear became a reality in 1999.... Throughout the 80's, George retreated to his garden. He loved the sight of the beauty growing from the earth. Here was God at his best, growing life, instead of the madness the outside world was growing. When he did return to the public in 1987, it was with a new album, '' Cloud Nine'' and a new outlook. Age seemed to mellow him. He had a wife. He had a son. He had a successful career. His spirituality was still strong. And, whatever bad feelings he had about the Beatles seemed to wash away. Friends say he loved to talk about the past and his former group. By the 90's, George seemed poised to grow old gracefully and peacefully. Then he got cancer...

The Quiet Beatle Part 2

At first, George loved the trappings of fame. When the Beatles became a worldwide sensation, everything was thrown at them. Wine, women, and song. And, money. Big time money. George became a millionaire by the age of 21. He purchased a mansion called Friar Park. It was his hideaway from the madness. As an adult , George still valued his privacy. And, when he moved into the house, he now had a roommate... Pattie Boyd met George on the set of ''A Hard Days Night'' . She was an extra and a model. All blue eyed and blonde, she stole George's heart at first glance. He asked her out on the first day of filming. She said no, but, a Beatle didn't take no for an answer. Finally, after putting him off for a week, she consented to go out on a date with him. Very fast, they became an item and Pattie moved into Friar Park. They were married in 1966 and never had any children... George might have been married, but, that didn't stop him having some bachelor fun. All of the boys were terrible at monogamy. The tours they went on around the world were drug debauched orgies. No man was immune. The women were blissfully ignorant of what was happening. The Boys from Liverpool were old fashioned men: the women stayed at home... Around 1965, John and George and their wives were invited to a dinner at a dentist friend's house. Without their knowledge, LSD was slipped into the coffee. Fearing for their health, the four made a hasty exit. They went to a club. That is when the effects of the drug kicked in. The women were terrified. John was entranced. George, however, had the most lasting memory of the trip. It awakened the path of enlightenment for him. George said that was the moment when he found God. He felt God in everything and he felt himself in everything. The part of his soul that lay dormant to spirituality came alive. No longer was he the same person. The door had opened for him, and, until the end of his life, he was searching for the Divine. This was no drug fueled delusion. George felt it deep in his soul.... But, living in the material world tested his new found life. The vices were still tempting him. George tried hard to resist, but, by his own account, he failed many times. Infidelity, rampant drug use, and most depressing of all to him, the Beatles experience was stifling him. While the boys still were each others best friends, the rot was setting in. Brian Epstein's death, the pressures of the public, the runaway madness of their business company Apple, and, above all, the arrival of Yoko Ono in John's life made it all collapse... George never outgrew his admiration of John Lennon. The two became close as the years went by, but, George never lost the feeling that John was his hero. As he was the baby in his family, George became the baby of the Beatles. John and Paul were the older brothers, Ringo was the add on. As George began to write his own songs in 1963, John was his role model. George sang like John, wrote songs in John's pitch, and, behaved as John wanted him to. With the arrival of Yoko, George lost his contact with John. As Lennon changed, so did the makeup of the Beatles. In the past, John would be the buffer between Paul and the band. Paul was born to dominate and he did so frequently with George and Ringo. John would step in and, since he was the leader, Paul would back off. With Yoko on the scene, there was no buffer. And, that was when George and Paul started having their problems. All the pieces began to fall apart. Their empire was crumbling. Sadly, so was the brotherhood they had with each other.... Ironically, with the collapse of the group, George started writing some of his best songs. ''While My Guitar Gently Weeps,'' ''Here Comes The Sun'', ''Something''. George was  finally writing his masterpieces alongside the juggernaut of Lennon- McCartney classics. By the time the group finally disbanded in 1970, George was primed to have the best solo career of the four....

The Quiet Beatle Part 1

Perhaps the most important song George Harrison ever played was when he was around 15. It was in 1958, and the setting was a double decker bus in Liverpool. He was auditioning for a spot in the local skiffle group called The Quarrymen. The judges consisted of just two people. One was his friend from school and supporter, Paul McCartney. The other was the skeptical, brash, no nonsense leader of the band, John Lennon. George was nervous. Not of playing because he was a first rate guitarist and had confidence in his ability. No, the reason he was nervous was Lennon. John was a commanding force who didn't suffer fools gladly. George was in awe of John--- a role he never outgrew-- and, had a case of sticky fingers. On cue, he played the current hit ''Raunchy''. The song itself is no more than rudimentary playing. George played it and played it well. Paul was full of praise, and, even John, the fierce critic, was impressed. John gave his approval and George was now the lead guitarist. He was pleased, but, didn't show it. He kept his feelings private. He always did.... George Harrison was born on February 25, 1943, in Liverpool, England. He was the last of four children--- an older sister and two brother preceded him--- and, therefore, was the baby of the family. The family lived in a government funded area, so, the family, while not poor, was very low middle class. George grew up with a lot of love from his family. His was the only Beatle childhood not affected by death. A small, independent child, George was happy as a kid except for his schooling. Like his future bandmates, school was a waste of time . He got poor grades and was not good at sports. He was social, however, and certainly bright, but, the everyday routine at school quickly bored him. The teachers dismissed him as hopeless, and, the remainder of his years in class were full of daydreaming. And, he dreamed of music... Before he was 13, he listened to all kinds of music, but, one day riding his bike, he heard '' Heartbreak Hotel'' on the radio. It was a call to arms for young George. The birth of rock and roll stirred him to action. He wanted to play music, and, mostly play guitar. His mother bought him his first guitar and George patiently taught himself to play at night. Through time, he began to learn whole songs and develop a skill that would take him through life... On the school bus everyday, George became friendly with another boy, 9 months his senior, who also shared the passion for music. He was James Paul McCartney, whom everybody called Paul, and, through their love for rock and roll, a friendship was formed. The boys played music together often. Both played acoustic guitars. Paul was the more ambitious. He had just lost his Mom to cancer, so, music became therapy for him. Paul also began to hang around a local skiffle band playing gigs, usually for no money. George was intrigued. He wanted in. But, the leader said no, he was just a little kid. George vowed to change the leader's mind, which led to the audition on that bus... After John, Paul, and George started playing together, you would have thought it would lead them to instant fame and fortune. Instead, it lead them to poverty. In the history of music, very few artists had the rough road the Beatles had before the made. Between 1958 and 1962, which is when the bell of success rang for them, they played some of the shittiest gigs, usually for a small fee. The band made their bones in 1960 by going to Hamburg and playing a bar for 8 hours straight a night. While not profitable in terms of currency, the band did become tight in their playing. The wild nights for them on the town became the stuff of legend. Young, randy, and good looking, the boys, along with their new drummer Pete Best, cut quite a swath around the city. They developed a rabid following there. At 17, George was having the time of his life. Having barely finished school, he was now free to enjoy the pleasures all young men dream about. He lost his virginity in Hamburg, and, like the other boys, was constantly having sex with all sorts of women. Strippers, barmaids, groupies of the band, George loved it all. In addition, the band was making giant strides musically. George decided being a full time musician was his career path. When the band got back to Liverpool, fate took them in its arms and George loved the embrace.... He loved the rise of the band. In rapid order in 1961, they played the basement club in Liverpool called The Cavern, took another tour of Hamburg in the spring, and, crucially, met their manager, Brian Epstein, in late 1961. Epstein got them a recording contract in 1962, and their first single, ''Love Me Do'' was released in England. By this time, Ringo Starr had replaced Pete Best. This was mainly George's doing. While John and Paul were the leaders, George always had a strong say on the music. He was unhappy with Best and pushed for Ringo. They were now complete. And, Beatlemania came roaring into their lives in 1963...

The Shuffling Crew

They were fun. They were entertaining. They were the best football in 1985 and , possibly, in the history of the sport. We followed their every move. Colorful personalities that captured the fancy of the nation and the world. I give you, ladies and gentlemen, the Shuffling crew known as the 1985 Chicago Bears!.... I have always patiently listened to the talk of my seniors when they recall the great teams of their youth. Personal, joyous memories should always be celebrated. That is the heart of any sport and in entertainment generally. Relief from life's problems is the core of why we watch. It means something to pass along to the younger crowd on how great it was to see their team. I listened and learned and didn't fully appreciate the glory these teams give their fans until the 85 team came along. For those old enough to remember, it is a golden memory. For those too young or weren't yet born, the genesis of your Sunday love really started in that year... Please listen patiently, my young crowd. The pure fun that was unleashed on the public from these rascals is not something that can be replayed, but, I will try. Start at the top... The fire breathing, all intense coach named Mike Ditka. One hell of a player back in the 60's, a darn good assistant coach with Dallas in the 70's, and, then, a walking force of nature as a  head coach with the Bears in the 80"s. Looking at Ditka frightened the most aggressive of players. When he talked--- all street language and football logic-- you listened. Through sheer force, this giant parlayed a brand name of football to a bunch of rag ass kids you didn't want to fuck with. He had been to war as a player. As a coach, he became General Patton to his troops. The feeling he gave out? '' Make the play, protect your teammates, and, always be number 1.'' ... He talked, they played... At quarterback was an arrogant, talented, rabble rouser ''' punky QB known as McMahon.'' What a beauty he was to watch! A complete, anti-establishment , 'I don"t give a fuck player'. Jim McMahon showed up, after being drafted in 1982, with a beer can in his hand, tobacco in his mouth, and, an attitude to win. While injury prone, McMahon inspired victory and loyalty from his teammates. It is called chemistry. These fellow players would have jumped in front of a runaway bus for him. Interesting enough, many in the media wanted to push McMahon in front of that same bus. He didn't play the media game. It wasn't in his nature. And, when you don't play the media game, then you are '' trouble'' and a '' petulant child''. No one ever denied that McMahon could be like that, but, no one except the media seemed to mind. That devil may care way of his nature brought a new type of feeling to the locker room, and, that translated to the field. McMahon and Ditka had legendary confrontations. A headstrong father and rebellious son. The reason they fought so intensely is that they were essentially the same person separated by decades. In another time, they would have hit the town together as great pals. But, in 1985, one was the boss and one was the student. Which suited the team fine because McMahon became the buffer for the team when dealing with the management... All sweetness and great skill, at running back was the legendary Walter Payton. Check the records on Walter. He sure holds a lot of them, the most impressive being between the years of 1975 and 1987 he missed only one game. In football-- in any sport-- that I think is the most impressive thing about Payton. A complete football player: he ran,  he blocked, threw a football, and was the consummate teammate for a cast of characters. Walter always said that if they cast another version of the movie '' One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest'' they should just go to the Bears locker room... Walter only made it to one Super Bowl, that 1985 year. He didn't score a touchdown in that game, like he should have. Ditka gave that to the ''Fridge.''...  William Perry was big, fat, and proud of it. He was a defensive lineman from Clemson. The Fridge didn't have a lot of natural ability, but, he did have bulk. While it took two offensive lineman to block him, another player on defensive would sneak through and clobber whomever had the ball. Perry became a star on a Monday Night game against the Packers. He was put on offensive by Ditka as a gimmick. In goal line situations... Well, when given the ball, he would go head on with the poor, unfortunate opposing player, and knock him into Lake Michigan. On that manic Monday night, he became an overnight media sensation. Everywhere in the country people were talking about the Bears.He was the poster child for people who didn't care about their appearance. Plus, he had a gap toothed smile that melted the cynicism of the non fan.... There were other characters on that glory team: Hampton, Dent, Wilson, Gault, McMichael [ who loved to hunt rattlesnakes in the off season for fun], Wilson, Singletary, etc... They were on the news and in commercials. They did personal appearances with their adoring public. And, they did '' The Super Bowl Shuffle.''..... This video and song was for charity. It was done during the regular season. That was risky. While the song celebrated their greatness, it also could have caused internal ego problems. It doesn't appear to have happened. The song and video took off stronger then anyone would have thought possible. It actually charted in the Top Forty.... They went 15-1. The two playoff games were shutouts. The Super Bowl was a blowout. And, then it was over.... The following seasons showed the price of fame. Injuries, salary disputes, and, most importantly, ego clashes reared its ugly head. The fun and joy seeped out of this team. Friends became enemies. Success had breeded contempt. No longer were they Shuffling... No team in my lifetime has captured the public's fancy like that team did. The combination of incredible talent and raw charisma was intoxicating. My Grandmother, of all people, loved them. You planned your whole week around the game. They brought to surface the heart of being a fan.... I feel sorry for those too young to experience the magic... All I can say to describe them is ''They didn't come here looking for trouble...''

Brother Tom Part Three

Life went on after his death, but, it has never been the same. Dad grieved himself to death 6 months to the day after my brother's death. Mom lived another two years in both physical and mental pain before she died. And, now, they are all together up there.... In the years after my brother's death, my resentment of him ran high. I really didn't forgive him for how he treated me. I would make crewd jokes about his death as my release from the tragedy. But, they were just jokes, it was my way of working towards a resolution of my realtionship with Tom... Which came in a dream I had of him a few years ago. In the dream he looked great and was smiling a very peaceful smile. The dream made me feel peaceful also. After I woke up I felt my feelings differently. The long buried love I had for him so long ago on has stayed with me. I love my brother and miss him. I wish he was here so we could finally find understanding with each other. In the next world, we will sit down and work it out, I'm positive of that..... By the way, those two boys, the older brother and the younger, I am happy to say went back to playing ball together on that long ago day on Monroe Circle... And, they had fun!!!.... Two brothers....

Brother Tom Part Two

In high school he was the star. Looking back, I see this became a double edged sword for him. He was cheered and popular, but, as what happens to far too many high school stars, they are not used to things when the luster of fame wears off. After graduation, the spotlight turned off on him. No longer the''star'' in school, he became an ''extra'' in the real world. His dream of baseball never came true. A scout from the California Angels did see him and take his name, but, nothing came of it. His heart was broken because of what might have been... Tom tried college, but, flunked out after the first semester--- he just went to party anyway. He came back home and got various jobs in sales. He did quite well-- again, whatever he did, he did well. But, the bitterness of not being more than what he was set in deeply. The fights in the family became more pronounced. Dad took the heat from him, and, of course, I did too. However, I was no longer the little boy who took the abuse from him, I was a teenager who stood up for himself and answered him back. The fights grew in intensity. It became sadly obvious to me that my brother simply did not like me. My negative feelings towards him were reactionary, I was on the defensive. Once in a great while, we would share a good time, but, like when we were kids, it was illusionary... He found love in his early 20's. Her name was Lisa. I know they worked together and she seemed nice and good for him. Beyond that, I know nothing else. We didn't share confidences of women. In fact, the only area we had total agreement in was our privacy in our dating habits. We didn't go around bragging or gossiping about women. I do know he liked to have a good time with them, and vice versa... His relationship with his girl Lisa ended sometime in the late 80's. He took it hard, so hard, that I found him in the garage with the car running trying to committ suicide. He saw me, snapped out of it, and, drove away before I said anything. Later on, when he came home, he talked to me and wanted me to say nothing to our parents about what I saw. I refused. He obviously needed help. That became another fight. I did tell my parents what happened, and, that they should watch him.They spoke with Tom and a heartbreaking emotional scene transpired. Everybody started crying. My parents, understandably, were frightened. Tom assured them it was only a fleeting incident, and would not happen again... Life soon became normal again. Tom straightened up and got a great job in Ohio, where he met another woman and they became quite serious. Since he was in another state, and, were weren't speaking, I really don't know much about his life out there. He seemed to love life out there and was happily living his life. The Christmas of 1994, he came into town and everything seemed fine with him. We could barely stand to stay in the same room with each other. I think, even though we never put it into word, that we both knew it wasn't going to work ever with us as brothers. The chemistry was just not right. But, we were family, and, the unspoken feeling we had was that if one of us was in trouble, then family blood would win out and we would be there for each other... The following September 22, 1995, the call came in the middle of the night... I was at my parents house when the phone rang at around 2am. The police were calling from Cleveland. The words went like this: '' I am sorry to inform you that Tom was killed tonight. He jumped from a 28 story building. We are calling it a suicide.''... Stunned, I sleepwalked to awaken my parents and to tell them news that would break their hearts.Dad was stronger, he held Mom while she broke down. All the next day, Mom was in bed while various family members came to comfort her. Not only was her son dead, Tom was always her favorite. One time I walked in there I heard her crying softly for my brother. She kept saying.. '' My poor little boy..''... There was nothing left of Tom's body, the coroner office said the body was '' unviewable''... I talked to the police all that long night and next day. I got the details of what happened. My brother, in deep debt that we didn't know about, was out of work and had just lost his girlfriend when she ended the relationship. On the morning of his death, he did get another job. He also saw his girl at some bar with another guy. This guy we later found out was an old friend of hers. Some words were exchanged... My brother, drunk with rage and alcohol, drove to her condo and confronted them there. He beat the shit out of the friend and the police were called. The friend left and then my brother climbed up on the ledge, in a threat to jump. The police were dealing with him when the incident turned tragic. Depending on which story really happened, Tom either jumped by his own doing or fell accidently. The police say he pulled away from their reach when they tried to grab him. His girl said Tom jumped on his own accord. The police say in their report it was a suicide. I have to go with that.... It really didn't matter to me how he died. He was gone. That is all that mattered. I held myself together fairly well that day. I had to be strong for my parents. But, late that night in bed by myself, the tears came. Wracking, sobbing tears. I was crying for the family tragedy, to be sure, but, I was also crying for my lost brother I never really stopped loving....

Brother Tom

The older brother had to be around 13. The younger around 9. The sun was shining hot on them that afternoon as they took their spots on the lawn at Monroe Circle. The older brother was in charge and he should have been. Tall, muscular, and gifted in sports- one of those people that is just natural at sports- he was teaching some baseball moves to the younger, smaller brother. The older brother was not in the habit of teaching much to the younger brother. Their relationship was strained in the best of times, but, the younger was excited to finally have a connection with his brother, whom he secretly idolized. It started out very badly, the younger making many rookie errors, the older very critical. Soon, a familiar pattern set in and they started arguing. Bad feelings came aboard between them. It was, sadly, the core of their relationship.... My brother, Thomas Forrest Scoleri was born on January 21, 1962. He was the second child-- behind my sister Lisa-- but, he was the first male child. As such, he had the spotlight on him immediately. From what I have heard, he was a handsome , happy baby, who had a helluva temper. The crying fits he threw became somewhat legendary in the family. He loved to be rocked-- till the end of his life he always seemed to be rocking and in motion. Tom didn't talk much as an infant, in fact, he didn't say a word until he was around 3. My parents thought there might be a physical problem with him. Besides crying and rocking, he was a mute. The doctor said, no worry, he will talk soon. Sage words. Because once he started talking he never shut up!!! Throughout my childhood, I can remember everyone telling him to shut up, but, he kept going. Maybe, we were his first audience. Tom, even as a toddler, loved to be the center of attention. He was pretty magnetic and charming. In home movies, he always seemed to be sitting on someone's lap.... Tom was named after my Father's brother Tom, and, they always seemed to have a special bond. My brother in life grew closer to my Uncle Tom than his own father. But, Tom was my Mother's child. They had that bond. As I have written before, I think the reason my Mom had such a special place in her heart for my brother was because he reminded her so much of her own father. That is common. Very often a parent will see the past in the present when a child develops. And, as he developed, my brother was poised to be the center of all things in the family. That is until he got a younger brother... I was born almost 4 years later. I was the surprise baby. All fat and blond hair. I am named after my father, so, right away, my brother perceived a threat to his place in the family. While Lisa was 6 years older than Tom, she wasn't a worry to him. She was a girl, so, there was no need to start a rivalry with her. I, however, was the same sex, smaller, and, in need of the attention that all babies need. In short, he hated his new rival. More than sibling rivalry, he was filled with hate. Even at a young age, Tom was a very jealous person. I do not remember much as a baby, of course, but, my earliest memories of him are not flattering. Much picking on me from him. Much crying from me. This was the ongoing saga of my interaction with him. Tom would be punished, banished to his room- which we shared, so that didn't help me a fuck of a lot. The abuse continued there, sometimes physical towards me.... Mom and Dad knew this was a problem. They did their best. Lisa always stuck up for me with my brother. As I got older, I sort had gotten used to it. Occasionally, there would be peace, of which I was grateful, but, never to any long lasting truce. I was always on my guard with him, always awaiting the dark moments.... In school, Tom was the popular boy. Ok in the classroom, an absolute dynamo in sports!!! The raw ability he had was absolutely thrilling. His two best sports were baseball and basketball. I remember going to his games and being very proud to hear his name mentioned over the loudspeaker when he did something wonderful... All the girls loved him-- he kinda looked like the actor Robert Urich- so, girls calling the house became a common occurence. Despite my problems with him, he was a genuinely fun, witty, and loyal person to be around. People were constantly swarming to him, his friends were a mile long. As I looked up to him, he, along with my Dad, showed me what being a true friend is to be. I didn't feel inferior to him. I never felt in his shadow. We had different shadows we were in. He wanted baseball, I wanted acting. Since the two never intertwined, this was the one area we were carefree in with each other. But, I did take pride in him.....

Room 404

My nephew Joey works at a hotel by me that is supposed to have a haunted room. When he told me about this around a year ago I had to check it out as soon as I could. It took a year to get the room because the hotel itself was under construction. I don't know if the ghosts had a wild party and did some damage, but, I had the chance over the weekend to finally experience this room. Here is my report.... Room 404 opened to me around five p.m. It was a fairly nice room with double beds that would come in handy if I wanted to have an orgy. Since I was alone, the beds became impractical. One bed was only needed [ although I was expecting a female friend to show later, but, that was canceled at the last minute]. After putting my things away, the first ghost appeared. Sitting in a chair, completely nude was George Washington. You can imagine my surprise! Ole George, based on what I saw, aptly deserves the title ''Father Of Our Country''. Lets just say his teeth weren't the only wooden thing he was sporting. I made small talk with Georgie, asked about the cherry tree story [ he said it was true, but, he did it to get into a girls pants], and, asked about his wife Martha. George said Martha is a big slut in Heaven, banging every President in sight. He gave me a graphic description about her doing FDR in the wheelchair... George soon left. I put my body like a temple on a bed and was soon joined by Liz Taylor. Liz was dressed head to toe in chocolate syrup. It, being the afterlife, she states that she doesn't have to watch her weight anymore. A valid  and sage observation, Liz!!! I asked about her dating. She said that in the six months she has been dead, she has married and divorced every man who has ever lived three times. The woman can't keep a husband!!.. After Liz emptied my fridge, she left and Marilyn Monroe stopped in to sing ''Happy Birthday'' to me. I said ,'' Marilyn, my birthday is 89 shopping days away.'' Marilyn said she knew that, but, that she just had to get away from ''Those damn Kennedy boys!''. Alas, Jack and Bobby Kennedy did sniff her out and she left quite hurriedly. Before they left they asked me if anybody here seen their old friend Martin. And, could I tell them where he has gone? I said I had not seen Dr. King. Jack said that is too bad, it seems the good they die young. I turned around to answer them and they were gone... Rock Hudson made an unscheduled appearance around 8ish. He was with his new boyfriend, John Wayne. In another example on how Heaven brings out the ''real'' person, John was decked out handsomely in a skin tight black evening gown with a belt that said, ''Boy Toy''. Sitting with the newlyweds, I asked them how such a thing had happened. They replied that the motto in Heaven is '' What happens in Heaven, stays in Heaven.'' They seemed happy. They mentioned they were looking for a nice loft in the North side of Heaven by Christ Field. We toasted their new afterlife, I rejected their offer of dressing up in chaps for a threesome, and, they went gaily on their way!!.... By nine, my head was spinning. So many famous ghosts had come by for just a short time: John Belushi came by with an gram, John Lennon and George Harrison came by to sing, Bin Laden came up from Hell for some new towels, Chris Farley brought a gram-- even in death he still rips off Belushi-- Mother Teresa scrubbed my back, Gandhi offered to kick my ass, Christopher Reeve challenged me to a footrace, etc... By midnight, I was winding down. All the famous ghosts tuckered me out. I crawled into bed... One final spirit did visit: God.... God began to ask me how I was . I said I was relatively happy. He said why ''relatively''. I said I think I have done well up to now. I have lived my life based on what I thought HE would want me to do and be. I am not perfect, but, I told God I give it my best shot everyday. I said I feel there is still '' something I must do, but, I don't know what it is!!''' ... God paused. He said that is the common problem with humanity. We are always looking forward to some great achievement, usually involving money, and, not living life in the now. I said the world seems to be not set up to live in the now. Worries about safety, family, friends, occupy the thought process in the now. There was another pause. Then God said, '' I have given all of you my teachings and guidance. Some of you have abused them, some have flourished. I listen to the prayers. I hear the suffering, I do love all of you. When you cross over you will understand it all. Until then, please, tell the people you know this message, 'Love one another. Have fun. Live everyday to the fullest and enjoy each other. There will be bad in the world, but, don't embrace it. I love you, and, Love is the answer' ''. ... At that point John Lennon said, ''Hey, that's my line!''... God left. I wish He had stayed a little longer. But, I got the message. I have always gotten the Message. It seems simple, but, we do seem to forget it in our rush to live life. ... Love your family. Love your friends. Don't hurt anyone. Have pride in yourself that you are a good person.... Of course, none of this happened in that room, in fact, there was nothing unusual that happened in that room. But, had there been some contact from the other side I liked to think it would have been somewhat humorous, and, somewhat profound... Just like life... Peace...

Spielberg's Masterpiece

By 1993, Steven Spielberg was a household name. His name was attached, either as director or producer, to some of the most popular and commercially successful movies in history. The list of his achievements is staggering: ''Jaws'', ''Close Encounters Of The Third Kind'', the ''Indiana Jones''series, ''E.T.'', ''Jurassic Park'', the ''Back To The Future'' series, etc. But, all of these movies were a buildup to his best movie, and work of art, ''Schindlers List.''.... The story around the film is ''based on actual facts''-- which means, that not everything you see in a movie really happened. Filmmakers are notorious for changing history under the banner of '' creative license''. This is done to serve the story for the best presentation to the public. For instance, in the movie, Ben Kingsley plays a character named '' Itzhak Stern''. In reality, there was no such person in the story of Oskar Schindler, but, rather, a composite of a few men. With this in mind, the power of the story should not be dismissed. It is very true, very horrible, very sad, and, ultimately, reaffirms the spirit of the soul and human nature... Oskar Schindler was a successful German businessman before and during the early years of World War Two. He owned factories that supplied materials to the German people. He was a charming and handsome man, who also was a notorious womanizer, which might explain his several failed marriages. During the war, he charmed , flattered, and bribed the Nazi soldiers so that he could continue to operate... Spielberg establishes this in the first scenes in the film. We meet Schindler, played superbly by Liam Neeson, in a nightclub as he is ingratiating himself with them. The purpose is , of course, to get them on his side for purely business reasons. The film then shifts its focus to the concentration camp scenes, and, the true horror of the movie's subject begins. We see scenes of Jews being driven from their homes. The Nazi soldiers routinely torture and murder these people. They are '' following orders'', as the party line goes, but, there seems to be a sadistic delight in what they are doing. Men, women, and children fall victim to death. Schindler watches all of this from a distance. At this point in the movie, Spielberg doesn't give a signal of what his feeling about all of this is. He is taking it all in, as we, the audience, is also.... After an hour of the movie has passed--- and, like all great movies, the time flies by--- we meet the new commander of the Plaszow concentration camp, Anon Goth, played chillingly by Ralph Fiennes. The character truly is the personification of human evil. He randomly takes target practice off his balcony, randomly killing Jews as his whim dictates. He overseas the liquidation of the ghetto-- called ''Operation Reinhard'',-- where there is mass killings of families. These scenes are so realistic and shocking that it is almost too painful to watch. But, the viewer must watch. These are the acts of genocide that have been going on for centuries, and, sadly, still go on. To not watch is to not know.... That is all of the story I want to tell. For those that haven't seen the movie, I leave the rest of the story for you to discover, which I urge you to do... I want to talk about the job Spielberg does here. We all have seen his movies and enjoy them. Steven Spielberg is a master flimmaker who always knows what his audience wants and gives it to them. He frames his movies in a way that make the audience remember individual moments. In some quarters, he is criticized for this, accused of manipulation of the audience. There may be some validity to these charges, but, this is not a bad thing. A filmmaker's job is to entertain. With '' Schindlers List'', Spielberg uses his gifts for emotional power to the utmost and succeeds because we need to feel the pain and horror of these people. Take for instance, the key moments for Oskar Schindler: the liquidation scenes where he spots a little girl in a red dress [ the film is shot in black and white, but, we see the red in the dress] the scenes on the train, the bodies piled up dead, his goodbye to the workers before he gets the car. Spielberg brings the basic need of most humans to care and love each other with such power that I have yet to watch this movie without crying... For me , these are the scenes that stayed with me. I have seen the movie about four times since its release. Every time I view the movie, it is emotionally unsettling. Some people I know refuse to see the film for this reason. Of course, I understand. It is not for everyone. Unlike other great movies, ''Schindlers List'' is not the type of movie you may throw on at the holidays or in a party situation. The viewer must be prepared in his or her own mind to watch it.... Without giving away the ending to people, I must say in all of my years watching movies and dissecting them, I have never seen an ending like this movie has. The combination of astonishment and respect and the possibility of human redemption is overpowering. If you are any kind of a decent person, and, I know you all are reading this, then it is impossible to not be, in your heart, with those people in the cemetary... Steven Spielberg has said in interviews that growing up he was ashamed of being Jewish. He grew up in a world of gentiles and he felt the sting of being ''different''. With this film, he claimed his heritage back and is now proud of his background... I truly wish that none of this madness happens again, but, it is happening while I type this and you are reading this. This is a dark stain on human history. If any one of us is , God forbid, in the situation of an Oskar Schindler, then I hope we conduct ourselves like he did... And, I hope there is a Spielberg there to document it so we don't ever forget it.....

A Best Friend Until The End

The story came over the TV and the Internet on late Thursday, early Friday. I know many of you have seen or read it, but, for those who haven't, here it is: '' Navy SEAL U.S. Navy Petty Officer 1st Class Jon T. Tumilson was among the 30 American troops killed August 6 when Taliban insurgents downed their Chinook helicopter with a rocket-propelled grenade. At his funeral in Iowa, his dog Hawkeye paid his last respects by walking up to the casket, laying down in front of it, and heaving a sigh.''... The dog would not leave his master's side during the funeral.... In a link to this, there is a story from 2010: '' While many residents of Lone Oak, Texas are mourning the recent passing of Mr.Wayne Giroux... no one is taking it as hard as dear Spot... Spot faithfully waits each and every day by the side of the road in front of her home-hoping and waiting for Mr. Giroux to come home.''... This is why I love dogs.... When I was growing up, our family had two dogs, Cookie, a black lab, and, Poco, a shitzu. My family has never truly been into animals. We don't  dislike them or wish them harm, but, a dog has always been the only animal close to our hearts. Cookie was my childhood dog. My sister Lisa brought her home from somewhere when I was five. Lisa has always been a deep lover of dogs, so, this fortunate meeting of a kind hearted teenager, and a lost dog, was a Perfect Storm. Cookie had an angel face, big, warm, brown eyes, and, the sweetest disposition that you can hope for in a dog. Cookie was always there, almost eerily acting like a human. If you were happy, she was happy for you. And, if you were sad, I swear this dog would sense it so strongly that she would come over to you and kiss your face. Most dogs, even in sad moments, want to be petted. Not Cookie. She would look at you with love, and, son of a bitch, start kissing you until you were laughing. Perhaps, in another life form, Cookie was some sainted human who cared for the needy... We all loved Cookie, but, she was Mom's favorite. She would follow my Mom around everywhere. They had a special bond. Maybe it was the mother thing. Cookie was an orphan, separated from her Mother, somewhere. Perhaps, Cookie took to my Mom like children take to their Mother. Maternal. I'm no great believer in psychoanalysis, but, Cookie could have been another child, albeit in dog form.... Around 12, we got Poco [ '' little'' in Italian ]. What a little dynamo this dog was!!!. A friend of my Dad"s had some extra dogs in their litter, so, we were given him. At first, it was a bruising joining. Poor Poco would cry every night for his parents. He seemed so lonely , and, so lost, that I cried with him at night. Add to the fact Cookie couldn't stand him made his beginning very tough. In due time, the crying stopped- for Poco and me-- and, Cookie and him formed a love. They used to lie next to each other every night. It was precious. At the end of the day, they had enough of us crazy humans and wanted to be alone. They formed a bond that no human could, or would, try to separate... Poco was Dad's dog. He would follow my Dad everwhere. It was pure idolization. Poco loved Dad so much,  that when Dad would sit in a chair, Poco would literally SIT ON HIS FEET and stare at home. It was almost dog stalking. And, Poco was a card. He was moody, tempermental, defied authority, and, was just plain lazy. Its no wonder my brother Tom and I took to this dog. If I came back as a dog, it would be in Poco's persona. Take, for instance, if it was cold outside. We would open the door for the dogs to go out to the backyard and quickly do their business. Cookie would, she was the Angel, remember. Poco would not move. He would stare up at you, and, in some dog way of telepathy, say, '' You fuckin expect me to go out there and freeze my balls? Close the door Jimmy and I will just piss in the house!''... Which, the bastard would do... He was lovable, though, for all of his moodiness. Poco had his sweet side too. More often than not, we were amused by his antics, except for whomever had to clean the carpeting... Cookie died in her sleep in 1981. I was 15. This was my first brush with a death in the family [ and, yes, dogs are family ]. She had been sick for a week or so, and, we were planning on taking her to the vet that morning, but, it was too late. Mom found her downstairs. We all started crying. Poco had the most interesting reaction: he wouldn't go downstairs. Dogs have that sixth sense about death. Also, I'm sure in their own way, Cookie and Poco had said goodbye to each other and said '' I love you''.... For the next 12 years, Poco was the only dog. Us kids were growing up and out of the house, and, my parents were getting older. There didn't seem to any reason to get another dog... Poco never changed in his mature years. He was still the same lovable maddening rascal he always was. Refusing to go outside in bad weather, and staring at my Dad. When Dad got his cancer in 1991, and, was in the hospital for 2 weeks, Poco was strangely quiet. He missed Dad deeply, and, Dad missed him too, and, maybe, Poco sensed sickness. Dad survived and came home. The reunion was touching, man and dog... Around 1993, Poco had a stroke that affected his ability to walk. We knew we had to put him to sleep. Everybody was torn up about it, especially my Dad. He was losing his pal. I finally took Poco to the vet, saying how much I loved him and how I would miss him. I made a quick goodbye, I wasn't strong enough emotionally to hold him while he died... When I got home, Mom and Dad were crying. They had lost another dog/child. Sadly, the real losing of a child was not too far away... I now live in a condo that doesn't allow dogs. A part of me would really want another one. But, it would not be fair to the dog-- I'm away from home a lot during the week. But, I still love dogs. I love the unconditionally love that they give. I love the fact , no matter what time of the day or night it is, they are happy to see you. I love the pure love in their hearts. I don't find this love in other animals. I'm sure its there in some, but, we all know that dogs have it in abundance.... Do yourself a favor if you want the perfect poem on the love a dog brings to a family. YouTube Jimmy Stewart on The Tonight Show, reading his poem about his dog Beau. Have a kleenex handy... I still dream of Cookie and Poco. More Poco than Cookie. They are very much alive to me. Running, jumping, following my parents in the next dimension. Somewhere, Cookie is sitting next to my Mom, while Mom is sneaking her food from the table. At the other end of that table is my Dad. With Poco sitting on his feet....