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....

Random Thought: August 2011

I am starting to see the ads for the anniversary of 9/11. The survivors of that terrible day, and, the victims families. While it is compelling to hear these stories, I will try to limit my intake of the sobering memories of that day. It still is too much for me to process. The planes flying too low. The thoughts of those people on the plane, terrified, not knowing what will happen. Those big, beautiful World Trade Center buildings on that bright day, slowly awaiting fate to hit them. The people going about their day in those buildings, not knowing some will die soon and their dreams will be forever muted. A Pentagon sitting vulnerable to disaster. And, that lonely field in Pennsylvania, grass growing alongside flowers, soon to be a graveyard for that final plane. These images still give me chills. I guess I will watch some of the specials, but, not out of ghoulishness. But, rather, as my small tribute to the victims and survivors of this generations ''Day Of Infamy''.... On the other end of the intelligent spectrum is ''Jersey Shore''. You know of, or have heard of the show. A bunch of male and female Fredo Corleones from ''The Godfather'' get together and, well, I'm not sure to do what, except to dumb down the world. From my observation, there seems to be two types of fans of the show: those who take it seriously, and, those that see through it, but, still watch. Now, the people who take it seriously are not worth trying to convince: they aren't reading this, and, probably don't know how to read anyway. The other group who watch must be addressed. The feeling I get from some people I know around me-- and, respect--- is, '' Yes, I know its not real. I know its stupid, but, I can't stop watching it, like a car crash.'' Understandable. It is not necessary to watch PBS all the time. You are allowed in life to watch whatever you want. However, what worries me is that these people really don't get the joke. The reason you watch  ''Jersey Shore'' is unimportant: you watch it and that's all the people who put it together care about. Like supporting someone who is on drugs or alcohol, you are an '' feeding the habit''. And, if you feed that habit, then you are part of the joke. All I know is when I watch entertainment, I try to watch something that isn't insulting me by viewing it. To each his own... There are certain people who ride bikes in the street who think they own the street. You have seen them: they dress up like they are competing in the '' Tour De France.'' They have the fashionable biking outfit going. They try to look like Lance Armstrong. Fine. But, stop getting in the way of my car when I drive. You are taking over the whole lane. I really feel like hitting them with my car... As a sidenote, I love watching the highlights of the ''Tour''. Like bowling pins all going down at once, when one stumbles the rest go tumbling down. I like that. I like to think the hand of God is pushing them for all of us motorists... Ever notice that when a movie is set in prison the movie star is a nice guy, a victim of a crime '' HE DID NOT COMMITT!'' ? And, the handsome movie star is threatened, but, never really harmed in jail? Yeah, like in real life that is believable. If Brad Pitt or his ilk were in prison, they would be used like the only woman on a pirate ship.... Conan O'Brian seems to be sinking fast on his much ballyhooed talk show on TBS. I suppose this is some form on comeuppance. Contrary to the spin he and his people have put out, he forced NBC to replace Jay Leno in 2009 with him, this, while Leno was still number 1. For Leno , this had to be his comeuppance: in the early 90's, he and his manger conspired to shove Johnny Carson out the door early. After much public embarrassment, Conan took over for Jay, got beat royally by Letterman, and, was paid a fortune to leave NBC for greener pastures. He found it on TBS, or, so he thought. The ratings were good at the beginning, but, this is deceiving. All new shows, especially one as hyped as Conans', gets big numbers at first. Then, it settles down, and, then, that is when you can judge results. Conan is doing so bad that he took down ''The George Lopez Show'' after him. And, one last thing, Conan pushed out Lopez out of his slot when he came to TBS. Karma can be a bitch, Conan.... Finally,  while I was writing this, nameless heroes showed their faces. At any given time, human bravery makes a most welcome entrance. The fireman who saves people in a burning building. The policeman who catch that animal murdering innocent civilians. The politician, finally, standing up for what is right. The father who goes out to a job he hates just so his family can have a home and food. The single mother, abused in a relationship, who bravely walks away to an unknown future. The child who stops another child from being bullied. The millionaire who gives desperately needed money to charity. The doctors and nurses who take care of our sick and elderly. Those people, and , all the rest of us who try to get through life in a good and honest way, without hurting someone else. We are all the Silent Heroes who never get the glamour and praise in life that the ''Jersey Shore'' people get. These acts are all going on right now. I salute them, and, all of you....

The Jackie Gleason Syndrome

The talk is already all over sports radio about Jay Cutler. He recently gave an interview where he seemed much more personable, much more honest, much more funny, than he has in the past. In a nutshell: he seemed humble. It must be remembered that Cutler took a beating after last years championship playoff  game when he limped off the field. Some in the media , and, in the public forum, questioned whether he was really hurt. Some wondered if he was being a crybaby because he had a terrible game. It turned out he was, in fact, hurt and was physically incapable of finishing the game. That didn't satisfy a lot of Cutler haters [ including many close friends of mine]. Jay Cutler inspires an intense feeling from fans: either you like him or you hate him.... Now I like Jay Cutler as a player. I do not know him as a person away from the football field. He may be petulant. He may be an unpleasant and spoiled and a selfish human being. He also may be a shy, generous, gregarious, wonderful guy. I don't know. Neither does the public that watches him either. It is not important to know whether he is a decent person. Because the only thing that counts in a public figure is whether they produce results for us. There is no other reason to be concerned with Jay Cutler other than he wins every game the Bears play. I call this way of thinking ''The Jackie Gleason Syndrome.''... The legendary Jackie Gleason was a certified comic genius. A big, loud, talented, force of nature. He created some of the most memorable characters ever on TV-- and, in movies. ''The Honeymooners'', which was based on his experiences growing up poor in Bensonhurst, New York, has been called the perfect TV show [ that is the 39 filmed episodes, not the grainy  episodes from his TV show]. Gleason was a big liver both on and off the stage. The stories about him are legendary. However, this man of incredible charisma and abundant talent was, by most accounts, not a nice person much of his life. His ego was monstrous. He was temperamental and demanding. He could be petty and shallow. He was an absentee father and a wayword husband. To be fair, some friends say he had his good side too. He could be generous and charming and quite sweet. This type of character is so common in show business, and, in all aspects of public and personal life, that it is hardly earthshattering to say these things. But, the key for me about someone like Gleason is I didn't have to interact with him on a daily basis. I never met him, so, my relationship with him is judged by how well he entertained me. And, in that regard, he was a success and a friend... The same thing applies to Jay Cutler. I don't ever  expect to have personal contact with him. I do not care what he says and does, as long as he isn't hurting anybody, his actions don't concern me. But, for much of the public there always seems to be the feeling that we have to LIKE them. It doesn't go hand to hand with their job performance, but, some people believe it does. A few years ago, Dan Hampton of the 85 Bears, was doing a personal appearance by me. I didn't know he was suppossed to be there until I got to the store. There was a line to get his autograph. I am not much for autographs-- I would rather shake the persons hand than get a signature on paper--but, it was my buddy Robs' birthday, so I got in line for him. Hampton couldn't have been nicer. In fact, he stayed longer than he was scheduled because he didn't want people to be disappointed. I shook his hand, got the autograph for my buddy, and, was on my way. I was happy that he seemed nice. But, I didn't fool myself into thinking I knew him to be a nice guy. A couple of seconds of contact doesn't give you a reading on someone. He could have left and went him to pet his dog, or, to kick it. The point is, it doesn't matter what Hampton is like in reality. The Dan Hampton who did matter to me played on those great 80's Bears teams. He and his fellow Bear teammates took me away from the pressures of life for a few hours. That is all I ask from entertainment. People forget that sports is entertainment like movies and music. Funny, but, when you see a bad movie or hear a bad song, nobody goes out and attacks the performer and boo them for putting out an inferior product. Yet, with sports, that is common... So, as Jay Cutler and the Bears start what hopes to be a fun and winning season I will be rooting for Cutler, the performer, to succeed. After the game is over, Jay Cutler, the private person, can go on with his life without any thought of him from me. Because all that is really important for me is whether he hit the open man.

A Reluctant Witness To History

Abraham Zapruder didn't want to go that day. His secretary, Lillian, urged him to go. They had that type of relationship. Teasing, in a friendly way. After much prodding, he decided to go. He would take his camera with him, too. The motorcade procession was scheduled to pass right across the street from his office, in Dealey Plaza, and, what the hell, to photograph a President would be something to show his Grandchildren. It wasn't everyday that President Kennedy came to Dallas.... It was around 12:15 when Zapruder took his spot. The motorcade, he knew, was scheduled to pass underneath the Texas School Book Depository and proceed by a grassy knoll towards the underpass onto the highway. So, he figured the best angle to film the President would probably be between the Depository and the underpass, right in front of the grassy knoll. There was a cement block a couple of feet off the ground he decided to stand on. With a little extra height, maybe, he would capture the President a little better.... At 58, Abraham Zapruder was a somewhat successful dress manufacturer. He had relocated from his native New York a few years earlier. He liked Dallas. They were friendly people down here. His wife and two children seemed to be adjusting to the way of life in ''Big D''. But, there was one part of life down there he felt uncomfortable about: the rabid right wing John Birch Society way of thinking. Zapruder, a proud Kennedy Democrat, heard all the abuse towards JFK. It was not just political differences, it was genuine hatred. They wanted the President's blood down here. He heard the rumors about killing Kennedy, but, he thought it was just that, sick rumors. Everybody has differences in politics, nobody would actually kill a President.... Around 12:30, Zapruder saw, from a distance, the President's car turning towards the Book Depository. By this time, there was many people lining both sides of the street to greet Kennedy. Zapruder noticed that they all seemed to be friendly and happy. It was a bright, hot, sunny day, but, you could feel the electric current running through the crowd. President and Mrs. Kennedy were sitting in the car together, along with Governor Connally and his wife. There were Secret Service agents following the car, along with the other cars in the procession. Everything seemed fine as the car turned slowly away from the Depository building. Zapruder raised his camera at that moment and started filming. For a brief moment, the car was hidden by a small billboard. While hidden, everybody heard the first shot... Various people thought it was backfire from a car. Some thought it was firecrackers. Zapruder wasn't sure, but, he heard something loud. By this time, the President's car had cleared the billboard. Kennedy's hands went to his throat. Zapruder, filming this, thought to himself that the President might be joking, like ''Oh, no, they got me!''. There was a second and third, and, possibly fourth shot. To this day, nobody is fully sure of the sequence of the shots. One hit Governor Connally. One missed. But, it was the final shot that sealed history... There were 486 frames of film that were shot, about 26.6 seconds. It was Frame 313 that history remembers. The shot that took the top of John Kennedy's head off. The shot that made Jackie get on the back of the car trying to find her husband's brain. A Secret Service agent caught her before she fell off. The car sped up and went underneath the underpass. Remarkably, Zapruder kept filming everything, while crying '' They killed him! They killed him!''... Afterwords, there was chaos in Dealey Plaza. Fear and confusion were all about. Also, people were crying. To those people who saw that last shot, there was no mistaking that the President was dead. Zapruder watched a little of what was going on around him. Some people were running towards the Book Depository, thinking the shots came from there. Most were running up the grassy knoll, where many thought the fatal shot came from, Zapruder among them. But, he was in shock. He sleepwalked back to his office and, with his secretary, burst into tears, crying for the President he loved.... As the afternoon went on, Zapruder realized he had, most likely, the footage of the assassination. He contacted a newspaper friend, who alerted the Secret Service. That evening, he talked to the SS, and developed the footage for their use. The SS took two copies for themselves and Zapruder kept one. Life magazine contacted him and, within a few days he sold the rights of the film to them for 200,000 dollars, with the stipulation to never show Frame 313. Zapruder then gave part of the money to the widow of J.D. Tippitt, who was allegedly also shot and killed by Oswald that day. The rest went to his family... For years afterwords, Abraham Zapruder suffered from nightmares and insomnia from what he had seen. He also felt guilty that he had profited from the killing by selling the film to Life magazine. According to his family, he was never the same man. He lived another 7 years before he died of stomach cancer in 1970.... The footage Abraham Zapruder shot is arguably the most famous footage ever filmed. The murder of a President. And, it has been used countless times in the debates about who really killed President Kennedy, most notably by Oliver Stone in his movie ''JFK''. He was one of the walking wounded of November 22, 1963, like many others. It wasn't suppossed to be that way. He just wanted to use his 8mm Bell and Howell to film a President for his Grandchildren.... One footnote, a few years after Abraham Zapruder's death , Life magazine sold back to the Zapruder family exclusive rights to the footage. The fee the magazine charged the family? One dollar.

The Ties That Bind

This particular blog is for my younger friends and family.... Over the weekend I had the pleasure of attending an anniversary party for one of my cousins, Joe, and, his wife Brenda. They hit the 25 year mark in their marriage, and, they thoughtful gave a party to renew their vows for family and friends. Of course, all went well. The couple look more in love with each other than ever... As the party continued into the evening, and the alcohol and food were being consumed, the laughs and stories were flowing freely. This is a fun crowd, the Bersani Family. They are on my Mother's side, so we told the tales of the sisters Grimmer, Pat and Gloria. Always with a laugh. And, at the end, always with a tear in our throats. My Mother and her sister are gone, along with my Dad and Uncle Joe. But, the best legacy left is the kids. My sister Lisa and me. And, my cousins. I believe we all have done our parents proud on how we live our lives and how we treat the world. Are any of us perfect? No. Who wants to be? We have flaws. We have problems. We make mistakes. Its called being human. But, there is a goodness of the heart that is in all of us. We got that from our parents. Hopefully, this has been passed down to the next generation. I believe it has.... Now, this is where I would like the younger people to take some notice. I was smoking a cigar, given to me, as always, by my cousin Margaret's husband , the good Jim Furlong. I took a scan around the party, almost like a journalist, and, took a mental reading. Obviously, I have a bias. I love these people. But, this is just as crucial, I LIKE THEM TOO!!!. Sadly, that is not always the case with families. The fights and arguments I had with my brother when he was alive would fill notebooks [ and, in the next dimension my brother and I will sit down and iron out our problems]. There is a joy around my family that is rewarding. You feel good around them. From our parents, we inherited their sense of never losing contact with each other. To always be there for each other. The thought that ran through my mind when I was smoking that fine cigar was, ''I hope the next generation carries the torch like we have.'' I believe they will. All the rest of life is window dressing, be it the fine homes, the big paycheck, who is more successful. What counts most is the people you love. Your family. The close friends you make family. As long as you have that in your life, nothing else matters, besides , of course, your health. YOU HEAR THAT OUT THERE, YOUNG PEOPLE? MY NEPHEWS? MY EXTENDED FAMILY AND FRIENDS?.... I heard this refrain often growing up. It kinda sunk in, but, when your young thoughts of a serious nature are fleeting: ''Yeah, it is important, but, so is that hot woman I'm dating!! So is the great job I'm getting that is just around the corner!!! So is that party I'm going to with my friends!!!!''.. So, please take a breath , my young cohorts. Appreciate all of the good times. I did the same things you do-- and, much more!!! But, also, take a moment to appreciate the people who won't always be there. Enjoy the moment. Work out the problem that you are having. The only true arguments you have in life that are important are arguments you have with someone you love. Enjoy the family. Throw the arms around each other and tell them you love them. There will be a time when you can't. You don't want  any regret in not doing it when you have the chance.... So, wrapping up I would like to give a family nod and bow to my cousins: Elaine, Patty, Gloria, Christine, Margaret, Joe, Paul, Michael, Tony, and, their respective spouses, children, relatives, and friends. And, my cousins on my Fathers side of the family, Tom and Nick and Uncle Tom. And, of course, sister Lisa and my nephews Johnny and Joey and their kids. I love all of you people and I'm glad you are in my life!!! I could not ask for any better people to give my love to!!!!