My Year in Review: Part 2 - Events of Some Significance

I fully intended to keep a journal this past year, the kind that would be uncovered years from now and elicit comments like “Wow, I didn’t know he was that interesting,” and “Who would’ve guessed he accomplished all that.” I would review it at year’s end, which is now, and tell you the highlights and events of significance of my year. It didn’t happen. Lack of discipline.

But I do feel the need for a “wrapping up,” so I’ll go to my Office Max Weekly/Monthly Calendar for some items.

JANUARY

I got a haircut on Jan. 3, at 10:00 am. Which got me the senior discount.

On the 10th I picked up a book at the Kirkwood Public Library. Don’t know

which one. Don’t know if I read it. But I know I picked it up.

On the last 3 Tuesdays of the month I played tennis at Creve Coeur Racquet
  Club. I'm pretty sure I won.      

On the 25th my wife and I went to a big party at a country club given by

Raye for her husband Barry’s birthday. I think it was his 80th. Maybe not.

FEBRUARY

On Sunday, the 3rd, watched the Super Bowl. The Ravens beat the 49ers

34-31. I had to Google to get that info.

Saturday the 9th went to The Sheldon to see Paula Poundstone. I thought

it started at 8. We got there at 7:45. It had started at 7:30. She made fun

of us when we sat down. 

Friday the 15th, shot some video of Harry Weber doing his sculpture thing

at a big warehouse in Wentzville. He was making a very large bull and bear.

Wednesday the 20th, got a haircut at 10:40. I was too late for the senior 
  discount.

MARCH

On the 8th saw Richard Ford at the St. Louis County Library.

Once upon a time I wanted to be a writer like him but slipped

into the world of advertising. Wrote some good 30-second spots,

though.

Saturday the 16th, gave a workshop on playwriting at UMSL.

Maybe I’ll write a play about that workshop. Nope, boring. 

Former Anheuser-Busch marketing guru Mike Roarty was on view

at Bopp Funeral Home. I intended to go but didn’t. 

Big lunch at Dominic’s in Clayton on Monday the 25th, with friends from

high school, wives, and rich friends from Aspen. We split the check.

APRIL

Our roof was leaking. Called Jerry the Roofer on the 3rd. Moral: Never 
buy a house with a flat roof. 

Did a video interview on the 6th for a legacy
  project, with Adele, who is 101 years old. I
  should be so sharp even when I’m 90. Or 85.
  Her first husband was Dave Garroway.

Senior Softball started on Wednesday the
  10th. Temperature was 52 degrees. Too cold
  for softball. I slept in.

Big day on the 16th. Charlie Chaplin’s
  birthday. I organized a party at a restaurant 
  in Kirkwood for lunch. 22 fans showed up. 
  We did Charlie proud.

The Gardner Blues Band rehearsed on the 24th 
  at Mike’s house. It’s for the Gardner Advertising Reunion 
  in May. We need a lot of rehearsing.

MAY

May 1 (Labor Day in Mexico), very busy. Haircut at 8:20 (w/discount),

Softball at 9, lunch with another writer at 12:30. Nap at 3.

On the 15th I stained our deck. Took 2 Advil that night.

Black Day on the 16th. Mary Lee broke her femur. I didn’t even

know she had one. Went into surgery the following night. Bad

timing, because...

Two days later was the Gardner Advertising Reunion. Lots of wonderful

people there, still telling the same ad stories. Glad I’m not in that

game anymore. But the Blues Band sounded good... and too loud.

Special Date: The 29th. Our anniversary. 48 years. Egads. My wife

is still beautiful. I’m still standing. Went to dinner at Trattoria Marcella,

one of our favorites.

JUNE

Softball continued throughout the month. I can still round the bases

in under 3 minutes.

Monday Martini group met at Dressel’s on the 10th for our monthly

gathering. Beautiful spring day, sat outside, bourbon neat and lots of laughs
  with good friends. Bourbon makes everyone funnier.

Oil change on my Insight on the 14th.

Went to the Opera on the 19th, believe it or not. Don’t like opera. But
  was the premiere performances of St. Louis Opera Co. production of

“Champion,” story of Emile Griffith. Jazz-oriented score. Good show.

JULY

Long 4th of July weekend in Chicago with our son Gregg. Great time.

Fireworks, picnics, music, and a parking ticket on July 4th. 

Sadie’s birthday on the 18th. Bought her a MacDonald’s quarter

pounder (no onions or pickles). She’s 42 in human years, 6 years

in Golden Retriever years.

Picked up a book at St. Louis County Library on the 24th. No idea

what it was or if I read it. So much for borrowed literature.

Saturday night dinner party at the home of one of our Monday Martini

gang. Delightful evening, snacks on deck overlooking golf course, full-blown
  dinner around their dining room table. 

AUGUST

Osage County. (Just kidding... a movie reference)

Meeting on the 2nd to continue planning for our high school

reunion. Our 60th. Lots of old people there.

Playing tennis on Tuesday mornings now, along with softball

on Wednesdays. Need to buy a second athletic supporter.

Muny Opera on the 7th: West Side Story. As great as ever.

14th & 15th: Auditioned for movie, “Gone, Girl.” Old man with a

walker. No words, just a look. Got a callback, but didn’t get the part.
  Shooting in Cape Girardeau. So much for hanging with Ben Affleck.

17th & 18th: Big weekend. U. City High School Reunion. Large

turnout. Warm and familiar faces, strong connections, deep feelings.

Also my birthday on the 18th. Celebrated with classmates... nothing

like hearing 60 or 70 people you went to school with sing “Happy

Birthday” to you. A cherished memory.

SEPTEMBER

Big day for Sadie and Lexi: dog swim at Kirkwood Pool. Lots of

fun until one scrawny little dog pooped in the pool. We left.

Mailed Estimated Tax check on the 13th. Same day as Yom Kippur

which began at sundown. The stars are aligned.

Shot a video bio of an 80 year old man for his kids and grandkids.

Retired lawyer, fascinating story, sharp mind. Wife gave me a bowl of chili.

End of month: Exciting 5-day trip to Crystal Bridges in Bentonville, Arkansas,
  and Iola, Kansas. Purpose: Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton 
  celebrations. Met Jimmy Karen, 90-year-old actor, still working, making
  movies since the 40’s. Great stories.

OCTOBER

Shot more video with Harry as Bear & Bull neared completion.

The thing weighs 9000 pounds! Dedication scheduled later in

the month.

Saturday night (5th) dinner at the Tenderloin Room with Jerry

and Maryann, thanks to Groupon.

Bear & Bull sculpture moved from Wentzville to downtown StL.

Quite a sight: huge bronze Bear & Bull rolling down I-64 at 70 mph.

24th - Sculpture dedicated at Stifel. Cold and windy day. Harry

hosted a first class lunch at the Mo.Athletic Club.

Last weekend: Lexington, KY with Mary Lee. Watched two

Cardinal series games vs. Boston Red Sox, visited distillery

of my favorite bourbon, Woodford Reserve, went to the racetrack. 

NOVEMBER

Visited my 101 year old friend on the 4th. Tea, cookies, conversation.

On the 7th, recorded video with a strong, graceful woman in her

90’s. She was three weeks from passing away.

Picked up book at Kirkwood Public Library on the 8th. Don’t remember

what book or if I read it.

Roof leaking. Called Jerry the Roofer again. Need new roof.

Attended opening night of St. Louis Film Fest at Tivoli, saw “JFK”

and heard Oliver Stone advance his conspiracy theory. 

Thanksgiving dinner at Triumph Grill, just Mary Lee and I. No stress,

lots of delicious dishes, relaxed dinner, no clearing the table. Something
different.

DECEMBER

First Monday went to Tavern of Fine Arts to see/hear Tom Townsend

play piano with a guitar player. I even got to sit in for one tune,

a boogie-woogie - in the key of C, of course.

Haircut at 9:40 on the 11th. Yeah, you guessed it.

Played the part of an old grandfather in a video for Talent Plus.

At least I didn’t have to use a walker.

Middle of the month: joined a gym! Working out. Muscles on the way.

Holly in from NYC, Gregg in from Chi for Christmas. Excellent visit.

Went to see “The Wolf of Wall Street” on the 27th. Walked out after

one hour and got our money back. Haven’t done that since “Thoroughly

Modern Millie.”

Last night of the year: Joe’s Cafe. We listened to Hudson and the

Hoodoo Cats, one of our favorite bands, along with a sitar player from Iran
  who showed some real soul and pickin'. The place was packed. A

grand way to spend New Year’s Eve.


To paraphrase Mr. Lincoln: The world will little note nor long remember what I did this past year. But I feel infinitely better having wrapped up my year so I can get on with the new one. 

Maybe I should keep a journal this year. 

 

My Year in Review: Part 1 - Names and Faces

Yes, it’s the end of the year and time for looking back:

At least that's what I think you're supposed to do, especially if you
have nothing else to write about. So this is Part 1 of a scheduled two parter. The subject is passings, a popular subject about now.

When I watch the Oscars or Tony’s, or CBS Sunday Morning at year’s end, 
I see the faces fade in and out to a lovely tune as tribute is paid

to artists, newsmakers, personalities, people of some import
who have died. Invariably I find myself feeling more touched by some than others. Sometimes it’s sheer likability, others I feel connected to, 

still there are those who have meaning in a grander sense.

I hadn’t intended to make my last blog of 2013 about the

“dearly departed,”  but there are some who I feel compelled

to mention. They made my life more pleasurable and meaningful
in their distinctive ways. If it helps, you can pull up a recording 
of “Memory” or “Yesterday” or “The Way We Were” to help set the mood. 
Or even better, Duke Ellington’s “Jeep’s Blues.”Duke's "Jeep's Blues"

So here is Part 1 of this year-end blog. Part 2 is a day or two behind it, or at least that's my plan. 

In no particular order:

"Forgiveness." What a powerful word he taught the world.

It's something we need a lot more of. And he has a very cool last name, 

except he added an "a."

Guitar player #1: Jim Hall. I've been listening to

this guy for the past 30 or 40 years and he was so tasteful, 

always played with top musicians or strictly solo. 

Getting Sentimental

"Less is more." Elmore Leonard practiced it, captured so much story and character in a few words. I listened to his "Tishomingo Blues" read by Frank Muller on a long car trip this year and the miles went by quickly. Add to that one of my favorite - and best written - TV shows, "Justified," which returns next week!! It's based on one of Elmore's stories.

Guitar player #2: J.J. Cale. You may not have

heard of him. I love his easy, southern, bluesey style.

He and Ry Cooder are 2 of my favorites from that school.

"Everything Will Be Alright"

If you recognize her, give yourself a gold star.

She's Patty Andrews, the last of the famous Andrew Sisters who kept the GI's, and a lot of us kids at home, singing and swinging during the 40's and 50's. She and Maxine and Laverne made musical history. Like this one: 

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy

I used to like boxing; not any more. But this is one of the guys I loved to watch, a real pro, champ in many weight categories, and a complex life story

beautifully told by St. Louis' Opera Theater in "Champion" this year. 

His name is Emile Griffith      A short look at Emile & Benny Paret

Tony Soprano and so much more. James and his families kept my wife and I seated in front of our TV set every Sunday night, beginning in 1999 for several seasons. We're still waiting for his final movie to be released.

There never was a comic mind like his. I met Jonathan Winters many years ago when I was in LA at Bell recording studio. He was waiting for someone. I asked him for an autograph. He said okay, put a yellow writing tablet on his lap and started writing. Ten minutes later he finished and signed it. He had written three pages, a story that was as wild and funny as a routine. I gave it to my daughter when I came home and don't know where it is today.

A Winters Montage 

Some great actors died this past year. One of my favorites was Peter O'Toole, a bigger than life actor and person. When I read about his "carousing" in the NY Times obit, I was surprised he lived this long. "Lawrence of Arabia" is

still one of my favorites, along with "Becket" and "The Lion in Winter."

And he never won an Oscar. 

This may just be the one where I feel the most loss.

Stan Musial. It's all been said. I saw him play when I was ten years old, at Sportsman's Park with my dad. Stan was baseball to me for the rest of these years. I even liked the steaks at Musial and Biggie's more because of Stan. My first team was Musial, Schoendienst, Slaughter, Kurowski, Medwick, Marion, Potter, Brazle, Brecheen, Cooper, Moore.

There were others. Many others who touched my life, either personally or through the media. But that's enough "passing" for now. 

Time to see if I can conjure up a Part 2, on a totally different subject.

It's That Time of Year

This is the time of year when most people’s thoughts go to Santa and gaily decorated trees with twinkling lights and Bing Crosby crooning “White Christmas” and frantic visits to the mall and rolls of gift wrap and, if you’re Jewish, saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.” 

Sad to say, that’s not how this holiday season, and winter in general, is working out for me. My thoughts are elsewhere, and it’s the fault of some of the members of my high school class. You see, we celebrated our 60th reunion this past summer. If you’re quick with numbers, you know that means we are the “Class of 1953,” at University City High. In those days our athletic teams were known as The Indians. Today they’re The Lions. (Times and sensitivities do change, don’t they?) 

Following the reunion I created a list of emails from as many of our classmates as possible. That’s 70 as of the last tally. It proved to be a great way for all of us to stay in touch with each other. At least those who wanted to. I found out who lived where, who was retired, how many children/grandchildren/even great grandchildren were strewn about the countryside. I thought, “This is really cool. After 60 years we still talk.” In some cases, more than we did in high school.

That was good. At least for awhile.

Recently, however, I’m beginning to regret ever starting the damned thing. Tell you why. I am sitting here in St. Louis, watching the snow melt and the cold rain come down, getting ready for the next Arctic blast, wearing a long sleeved tee-shirt under my sweater, reluctantly walking my two golden retrievers at 10:30 at night, urging them to poop quickly and get the hell back in the house. My bike riding and softball games and hikes are on hold until April. I feel like a prisoner of the gods of weather, and wonder where is global warming when I need it.

Here’s what gets to me. The email from classmates who don’t live in St. Louis. The ones who live someplace that’s green year round, or within a short drive of a beach, or doesn’t stock snow shovels at Home Depot.

Here are some excerpts from these messages. I’ll use only the first names, to protect them from NSA, scammers, telemarketers, and appeals from princes in Nigeria.

In no particular order:

1. Barbara wrote: I live in the San Fernando Valley in southern Calif.  Maybe if there are enough of us that live here we could start a reunion of our own. 

2. Jackie says:  Happy New Year from Woodland Hills , California. 

3. Jerry tells me: I still work part-time for them in their Palo Alto Office---- and likely will continue as long as I can ride my bike there (5 miles round trip mostly on a bike path).  

4. Earle told me about his two houses in California. At least I think they were both there. Maybe the second one is in Cabo or Hawaii.

5. Speaking of Hawaii, John has lived there for decades, has probably changed his name to something Polynesian with lots of vowels. 

6. Stan, who lives where it drops below zero, wrote: Will think of you when we are in AZ. for several months beginning the first of the year. 

7. Sally had the guts to lay it all out: Hello from California where the weather is NICE AND WARM!!!    Highs in the 70s tomorrow and the 80s on Sunday. 

8.Lenny wrote from Sun City, Arizona. I love that word, sun.

9. Lew actually OWNS the sun, keeps it on in Southern California. 

10. Jan had two knee replacements but had to brag that he bikes 20 or 30 miles in Clearwater, Florida.

There are more.... from California and Florida, also New Mexico and Arizona. Warm places. But I stay in St. Louis. In some ways it makes no sense. Our daughter lives in New York; our son, in Chicago, so there’s no family to keep us here. 

Maybe it’s because I really like living here. My good friends are here, a variety of things to do, a comfortable familiarity, theater and movies and parks and activities, a very cool and liveable house. I’m probably just too lazy to learn a new routine in a strange town,

So you’ll just have to excuse me for whining a little. It’s childish, I know. And since I started writing this, I have received two Christmas letters. But these were different. They both contained news of friends who have been through a very bad year. That got my attention, brought me back to reality.

Which brings me to some wisdom I read recently on a friend’s posting. It says, “A good life is when you assume nothing, do more, need less, smile often, dream big, laugh a lot, and realize how blessed you are.” Words to remember, and to read every morning.

Mark Twain had words for me too. “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

The boating analogy doesn’t work for me. I get seasick easily. But maybe it’s time for a Harley or a hut in Tahiti or backpacking through the Australian outback, or even a couple of months at a seaside villa in the south of Italy. 

In the meantime, I’ll wait for the kids to get home for Christmas while I sit by the fire and read "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock."

The Killing Shelf

Some books seem to spawn sequels like trout in a stream. Or a pond or lake or wherever the hell trout lay eggs. I'm not a fisherman so I don't know and really don't care. The subject here is books. For instance, Dummies. I don't know how it started, but now there's a Dummies book for anything you need or want. I was at PetSmart yesterday and saw "Ferrets for Dummies." Seriously. And there was a large ferret standing there, leafing through the book. No, I'm kidding.

The Chicken Soup books have just about taken over the literary world. Every possible age group, event, situation, holiday and emotional need now has a Chicken Soup book. My personal favorite is "Chicken Soup for the Athiest's Soul." Again, I'm kidding. But you get the idea.

So anyway, I was at Barnes & Noble the other day, a rare occurrence for me. While waiting to check out, I saw three books prominently displayed, all by Bill O'Reilly. They were: Killing Kennedy, Killing Lincoln, and Killing Jesus.

Which gave me an idea about the next book I'm going to write: Killing O'Reilly. (Note to the FBI, NSA, BTAF and Fox News: Don't investigate me. I'm not even thinking about killing Bill. This is a joke, albeit a bad one.) Imagine the cast of characters in this one.

Beyond that, I began to consider other possibilities for the
"Killing" series. There are the obvious choices: Killing King (as in Martin Luther); Killing Bobby (Kennedy);  Killing Julius (Caesar that is); Killing X (that's Malcolm); Killing Milk (think Harvey); Killing Lennon; and Killing Gandhi.

They'd all make good stories, being major figures enmeshed in the flow of history and the fortune of nations, at least to some degree. However, once you get to Jesus, as O'Reilly has done, everyone else is kind of in steerage, lower down on the guest list. "Oh, yes, we may have a table for you. What's that name again?"

The category of "killing" has bigger dimensions than this, however, as we have seen with Dummies and Chicken Soup. For instance, how about a book called Killing Bambi's Mother?

This could be rife with intrigue. What part did Thumper play in her death? Is Flower the skunk really so cute and innocent? And what about the gunshot we hear? Who is that? Elmer Fudd? That's an incredible twist, a Warner Brothers character works his way into the Disney realm.

While on the subject of Disney, we need a book Killing Gaston. He's the guy in Beauty and the Beast who ends up impaled on a cluster of spikes when he falls from a tower. Gaston provides us with the opportunity for some back-story. Why did he grow up the way he did? He leads an angry mob to do away with The Beast. The book would personalize some of the people in that mob, and their relationship with Gaston, and if The Beast threatened his masculinity. Of course he didn't just fall from the tower at the end; someone pushed him. We need to know.

Finally, and not to belabor the point nor bore you any further, I want to read a book called Killing Jimmy. Here we peek behind the steel curtain of the Teamster's Union and get the real story of what happened to Jimmy Hoffa.

The events that lead to the decision to get rid of him, who gave the final thumbs down or "sleeps with the fishes" pronouncement. He was last seen outside a restaurant in the Detroit suburbs. Maybe the restaurant owner poisoned him because he was a lousy tipper. Maybe it was really an accident because he had a platter of spoiled oysters. Maybe it was more in the Teamsters' style involving a back-hoe, a cement mixer ("putty putty") or an acetylene torch. The president of the U.S. at the time of the killing was Gerald Ford. For 25 years, Ford served as the Representative from Michigan's 5th Congressional district. That includes Detroit. Hmmmmm.

And so the proliferation of titles goes on and on. If I were a biographer, I would jump on any of these possibilities. But I'm not. I'm must a lonely blogger with the world at his fingertips considering the possibilities.

Which brings me back to Bill O'Reilly. Maybe it's time to start another book.

Our Town, Our Lives

Thornton Wilder wrote the play in 1938. It doesn't have much of a plot. Not much happens. There are no great conflicts, few soaring emotions and even fewer surprises. Yet the play is rightfully considered a Great American Play, consistently performed over the past 75 years. 

And for good reason. It has never lost its meaning, its power. If anything, it has gained in relevance, as those simple, quiet days of the early 20th century in Grover's Corners recede further into the distance of time and memory.

I saw a wonderful production of "Our Town" last night, presented by The Insight Theatre Company in the beautiful theater of Nerinx Hall in Webster Groves. The talented cast understood their roles to their very core. The third and final act still hits me in the gut and leaves me lingering in my seat long after the house lights have come up.

What happens in Grover’s Corners? Not much. The first act is a day in the life of the town. Much like our lives. We wake up, brush out teeth, fix a pot of coffee, a bowl of yogurt or Shredded Wheat, throw on a pair of jeans or shorts and a tee, move through the day. And suddenly it's 11 at night, we're brushing our teeth and getting into bed. 

Just as quickly, it's Friday again. And summer is over. And you're attending your 40th or 50th or 60th high school reunion.

Think back on your yesterday. Or day before. What do you remember about it? Chances are, not much. What about last week? Last month?  We pass through our days as though we’re on a float trip, daydreaming, watching the trees and shore pass by, and we're suddenly close to the end of the trip. Thornton Wilder understood how fleeting it all is, and how we never arrive at a satisfactory answer as to what it was all about.

Near the end of the play, a young woman says to her mother, pleads with her mother:

    "But, just for a moment now we're all together. Mama, just for a moment   we're happy. Let's look at one another." The young woman has died and has been permitted to return home. Her mother can't see her. Their time together has passed.

That's the point. The time has passed. As it does all too quickly for most of us. How seldom we don't "look at one another." We take for granted there will always be another day. Most of us take life for granted, seldom stopping to appreciate just how precious it is. Even as I write this, I know that an hour from now I'll be right back in that stream, letting it slip by unnoticed. But maybe if I just force myself to consider what "Our Town" meant to me, I'll remember a little more of what makes this day, and the next, and my life, so extraordinary. 

It's amazing what two hours in the theater can accomplish.

Going, going...but not gone

I couldn't let this moment in history pass without pausing to look skyward.

The article, from the Associated Press, was in today's paper on page 11. The headline read "Voyager 1 probe has left the solar system." Left the solar system!! That's not the kind of event you read about every day. NASA actually thinks it might have left our solar system a year ago but they couldn't be sure until now.

That's the kind of event I used to read about in short stories and novels, a long row of books that sat on the shelf in my bedroom. Stories by Heinlein, Van Vogt, Asimov, Clarke, Bradbury, Leinster, and others. Stories set in some distant time and place.

But now, in my lifetime, something had been sent from Earth and was now moving through interstellar space. The article states, "...the spacecraft has escaped the sun's influence and is now cruising 11 1/2 billion miles away in interstellar space."

That's a great word. "Interstellar." I can just hear Ray Bradbury saying, "See? I told you." 

So where is it going? you might ask. According to some experts, it's headed for Alpha Centarui, the nearest star. That should take about 40,000 years,  which will be about the same time the Cubs win the pennant. 

When Voyager 1 lifted off and headed for space, the year was 1977. Aboard was a gold-plated record which contained, among other sounds, some representative music of Earth. So whoever finds the ship, in whatever galaxy, in whatever eon, and unforeseen dimension, will have to have a turntable. If they do, they'll hear Bach's Bradenberg Concerto #2 in F (just the first movement. Too much Bach is not a friendly gesture); Chuck Berry singing his classic "Johnny B. Goode;" Louis Armstrong and his Hot Seven with "Melancholy Blues" - not sure why they chose that tune - and Blind Willie Johnson with "Dark Was the Night." 

No rap, no Pit Bull, no theme song from "The Sopranos." See how far we've come in the past 36 years? 

Next time you look up at the night sky and see the stars - assuming you can see through the urban haze - think about Voyager 1.

Imagine this cold, metal disc hurtling through the space between the stars. A hopeful hand reaching out from Earth, perhaps eventually to tap some alien life form on the shoulder and say, "We're here with you." Then, with a stroke of luck or technical ingenuity, that distant being will put the disc on a turntable, drop the stylus into the groove, and hear Chuck Berry's opening guitar licks as he moves into Johnny B. Goode. 
And that being will say, "Cool. I wish I could play like that.
"Chuck & "Johnny B. Goode" on Soul Train 1973