Shhh, It's a Secret

The American press delights in revealing secrets about United States Presidents, citing as their justification that over-rated cliche that "...the people deserve to know." They proudly stand on their First Amendment right to Freedom of the Press when revealing things about our Commanders in Chief that might be better kept quiet. I think their less altruistic motive is to sell newspapers. It wasn't always this way. There was a time when the Fourth Estate used the power of the press a little more discretely. We've had a number of Presidents in our history with problems that were known to journalists, but never publicized for fear that the President's ability to govern would be compromised. Most of the time, the secrets come to light only after the term, or the death, of a President. No such restraint from journalists today. They make the tacky "National Enquirer" look tame.

This is an age of instant communication and electronic gadget addiction; people have an almost pathological need to know everything. Their personal communication devices never leave their hot little hands as they wait for the next "train wreck" announcement about Lindsay Lohan, Charlie Sheen or, even better, some juicy gossip about an incumbent President. Will Obama ever produce his birth certificate? What love-struck intern did Clinton have sex with today? OMG, they have to know! Very often the secrets revealed are based on incomplete or incorrect information. Also, in the past, even if newspapers went against tradition and published a story that would put a sitting President in a bad light, they used to triple check their facts. Now, if the President's gardener's dry cleaner leaks a bit of gossip, it's treated as gospel.

One particular area that was always treated with kid gloves was the President's health. There are numerous instances in history where an incumbent President experienced a serious health crisis that was never made known to the public. The man (or maybe one day the woman) in the White House is the symbol of America's strength, and needs to be perceived as robust. On March 4, 1841, to perpetuate this image, newly-elected President William Henry Harrison decided to deliver his very long inaugural address on a bitterly cold Washington, DC day without an overcoat. He subsequently caught pneumonia, and a month later, died. Numerous secret medical crises have confronted U.S. Presidents over the years, but few people knew because of the restraint shown by the press for the greater good.

Abe Lincoln is said to have suffered from Marfan’s Disease, a condition that affects the connective tissue which literally holds the body together; the severe alcoholism of Andrew Johnson was never made public; the cover-up of Grover Cleveland’s secret surgery for cancer of the jaw; Woodrow Wilson’s incapacitating stroke which made his wife the de facto President for almost two years; FDR's paralysis from polio; and the complete suppression of the facts by John F. Kennedy when he took office with then-fatal Addison’s Disease that had also made him, in effect, a drug addict. These men and the people around them went about their duties and the country prospered. Would knowing about these conditions have made Americans any better off for the knowledge: no. 

Not that the question of journalistic discretion even matters any more; that ship has sailed. Some reporters. like the traitors at WikiLeaks, would risk the security of our country just to be first to publish classified secrets for the media junkies that need their fix. We like to think we have a "transparent" government where no back room deals get made. Yeah, right, if it ever became known what kind of wheeling and dealing goes on in secret in all Presidential administrations, there would be an uproar from the Left. Diplomacy is a shadowy business, and sometimes secrecy is necessary to get things done for the greater good. Not to oversimplify this, but it's a little like when you were a kid and your parents told you only as much as they knew you could handle.

While I don't advocate for an underground government, I do understand that sometimes, for very good reasons, including national security, we don't always have to know everything. I can accept that.

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At the Theater

Broadway theater is better than ever. In the midst of a lingering recession, the Great White Way is lit up like a Christmas tree with one great show after another packing them in every night. New Yorkers and tourists alike flock to the world's mecca for live theater. Some shows have been running for ages: Phantom of the Opera, 9700 performances ; Chicago, over 6000; The Lion King, over 5500; Beauty and the Beast, 5400; and so many more. What's nice is to see is children watching live theater. True, some of shows are aimed at them, but we see kids at other shows too. What better gift to give a child than an appreciation for live theater. That's the silver lining, now here's the cloud: the way people behave at the theater.

You know I have very little patience, but even normal people are hard pressed to excuse the terrible rudeness exhibited by modern theater-goers. Let's start with punctuality. My mother was a stickler for being on time, and I guess it rubbed off on me. I would rather be 20 minutes early for any event than risk being late. When you travel into Manhattan, you need to budget extra time, especially if you are driving. Theaters have already shamefully surrendered to late arrivals by starting shows ten minutes after the scheduled curtain time, yet still these morons waddle in 30 minutes late. Instead of being so accommodating,  theaters should return to the traditional rule: if you arrive after the curtain rises, you stand in the rear until intermission. Why should the actors and the audience be disturbed because you are so thoughtless.

Many New York City theaters are old, and therefore the seating is tight. They were built at a time before people felt compelled to eat every meal as if they were going to the electric chair the next day. OK, fine, I know I'll be cramped and I'm more than happy to meet you better than half-way on things like armrest etiquette. It's what civilized people do. Then in walk these behemoths who need to be coated with Vaseline before they have even a prayer of getting into a seat. Invariably they are wearing bulky, Mount Everest-worthy parkas that they proceed to drape over the back of the seat into your space. They wheeze through the entire first act because the strain of walking erect has been too much for them to bear. Memo to theaters: we need "fat people" seats. Charge more if necessary, but get these walruses away from me. 

And what don't you understand about the perfectly clear announcement: No photos please. Aunt Ida back in Sheepdip, Montana will not die if she doesn't see a blurry, off-center picture of you grinning like a fool. Even worse is the bane of theaters everywhere, the cell phone. They make these cutesy announcements at the start of the show to turn off all cell phones. It's their nice way of telling you not to be an a**hole. That doesn't stop anybody. "Yes, we're at the theater now. The show is about to start." Is that information so important to the person at the other end of the line? Are violent kidnappers holding your son hostage and threatening to kill him if they don't get that phone call? The frenzied texting at intermission gives everybody's face an eerie, greenish glow like they were passengers on the Starship Enterprise. Put the stupid toys away and act like grownups.

We saw Million Dollar Quartet last night and enjoyed it despite witnessing all of the above. Two women sitting near my wife disturbed the entire row to get to their seats. After exactly one minute, they got up and left again to use the bathroom, repeating their insincere "excuse me's" all the way up the aisle. One had a giant satchel that she kept banging off my wife's head. What's with the backpack...who are you...Lewis and Clark! I used to suffer these indignities in silence. Now I speak up, much to my wife's delight. I'm too old to suffer a**holes any more. If they don't know they're a**holes, somebody has to do the world a favor and tell them.

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Random Thoughts

To all those complaining about cuts in federal spending to get the country off the road to ruin, there is an amazingly simple solution for making up the losses. Get a job.

They just opened up the ninth sneaker store in our local mall. How we ever squeaked by with only eight I'll never know.

Ever wonder what happens to 3-year old magazines? Doctor's offices.

It's been tough, but I gave up watching "The View" for Lent. Just one more week and I get all the Joy Behar and Whoopi I can stand.

Great show on PBS...MI-5...about British Intelligence operations. It will have you on the edge of your seat and scare the crap out of you.

Can they make the plastic that bottled water comes in any thinner? In the name of saving the environment, the material they now use is so flimsy it barely qualifies as a solid.

Don't you love that commercial where that dilligent, caring pharmacist discovers the error in grandma's medication and calls just in time to save her life. I just left the winning crew at my local pharmacy...wonder how many people they've killed over the years.

Never take good pizza for granted. Ask people living any place other than New York City. Same for Italian bread and pastry.

Nicolas Cage arrested for spousal abuse and disturbing the peace in New Orleans. He's got a modicum of talent and has made millions on bad movies, yet the feds are after him for millions in back taxes; ex-wife suing him for millions; his accountant says he refused to heed warnings about living way beyond his means. Just another Hollywood ego about to be deflated.

Hard to line up behind NFL players in the impending strike. These guys, most of whom have s**t for brains, make seven-figure salaries for playing football. Take the money and shut up.

I'm watching a TV series called "Human Planet" about folks who eke out an existence in the harshest regions of the world. Compared to what they endure, we are such weenies.

My opinion about the younger generation not being as strong as past generations has two notable exceptions...parents of special needs children, and service men and women risking their lives to keep us safe.

Every time we lose a legendary movie star like Liz Taylor I wonder who will be the film icons of tomorrow. Meryl Streep is the only legitimate actress I can think of worthy of that mantle. Maybe Jack Nicholson for the guys.

Some Staten Island bimbo, who was collecting a nice monthly alimony check and living in her ex-husband's house because she said "injuries" kept her from seeking work wins this week's Jimmy Award. She posted videos of herself belly dancing and bragged on her Facebook page about how dancing kept her body so young and healthy. Hubby saw the videos, took them to the judge...now she loses the alimony and has to move out of the house. Duh.

Mets have lost 7 straight. My predictions of their success this year are not looking good. Is there no one who can breathe some life into this team?

Just starting Hockey playoffs in April. Why not just play year round. Sports seasons are just too damned long.

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It's Over, America

If you want evidence of how far down the evolutionary scale we've slid, just take a few minutes to watch the Maury Povich show. The show often veers into what critics call trash TV, and is known for a segment called "Who's the Daddy?" during which men who are denying paternity (or who wanted to know if they really were the father) are given DNA tests and the results revealed on the air. I came across this show the other day when students in a class I was teaching were watching it while on a break. I thought I had seen the worst television had to offer until this crap crawled across the screen.

Most of the "contestants" I saw were Black or Hispanic, not exactly a ringing endorsement for the lifestyles of these groups. For the segments I watched before I felt my breakfast coming up, the women came out first and told Maury their stories. Often there was another woman on stage, a past or current girlfriend of the mystery daddy, who either was also wronged by this man, or who is there to defend his virtue. The two women sometimes scream at and threaten each other, all the while holding a poor bewildered child who looks on in confusion, the unfortunate victim of these lunatics. The mystery daddy then comes out and tells his side. More accusations and screaming. Then comes the magic moment when Maury announces the DNA results. More screams, crying, sometimes vigorous physical assaults, a-a-a-nd CUT.

The phrase "Have you no shame" immediately came to mind as I was watching this garbage. Clearly the participants on the show are picked for their flair for the dramatic, and then encouraged to crank it up when the cameras roll. The mothers all look like sad but dumb ho's clearly taken advantage of by greasy Lotharios who haunt the Hood looking for easy pickings. One man had fathered children with three other different women besides the one accusing him on stage. He seemed proud that he had impregnated all these idiots who then gave birth to children the State had to pay for raising. He was smarmy and cocky and I wanted to put my foot through the screen to wipe the smirk off his face.

How sad that Maury Povich, once a respected journalist and news anchor, has sunk so low. It must be hard for these egoists when the spotlight gets turned off. I don't know what else could explain their willingness to go on a show that parades these misfits before the public. Even sadder is that there is an audience for this muck. How f***ed up is your life that you need to waste time watching this trailer-park freak show. I know these lowlifes are out there leading their dysfunctional lives; it's bad enough I have to pay for their folly, do I have to watch it unfold in my living room! If you're feeling brave, here's a sample. Ugh. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S9lGq_oXtQc

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The Bitchosaurus

I'm officially a dinosaur. I guess if you wanted to give me a scientific classification it would be Bitchosaurus. The reason for my constant complaining is that I see what used to be the greatest country in the world sinking into mediocrity. We're not there yet, but the elevator is definitely going down. If the present trend continues, the United States will have drifted so far away from the principles and ideals of our founding fathers that they would not recognize the country they fought to establish. What has brought us to this state? Mediocre leadership, an increasingly ignorant and apathetic citizenry, capitulation to policies of the "politically correct", and finally, the abandonment by individuals and government of the fundamental rules of financial responsibility. Let's take these in order.

America has produced some of the world's greatest leaders, starting with men like George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Benjamin Franklin and Abe Lincoln. In the last century we have elected strong leaders like Franklin Roosevelt, his cousin Theodore Roosevelt, Harry Truman and Ronald Reagan. These were men of principle who had a clear vision for this country and acted decisively to do what they thought was right. We are now saddled with a President who has no moral compass. He governs by consensus and seeks not to build on the policies that have made this country great, but to avoid giving offense. When events call for decisiveness, he waffles. The crisis in Libya is the latest example of the United States sitting on the sidelines while other world leaders step up to the plate. We are losing respect in the eyes of the world.

Our educational system is failing because it strayed from a proven curriculum of English, History, Math and Science to a dumbed-down menu of socially relevant, self-esteem building claptrap. (There's a dinosaur word for you.) Many parents have abandoned all responsibility for educating their children, and dumped it on the schools. As if that was not bad enough, they insist on interfering with educators by demanding changes in the curriculum based on no other justification than their belief that it is the right thing to do. This fiasco has resulted in people growing to adulthood with no foundation in the skills they will need to cope with life. Their ignorance spawns a lack of interest in government, and allows the same crooks and incompetents to keep getting re-elected. All they have to do to keep the people at bay is to provide more freebies like welfare, endless unemployment insurance, and free health care. In ancient Rome this philosophy, which was referred to as 'bread and circuses for the masses' led directly to the collapse of the empire because people no longer cared what their government was doing. We are on that path.

The PC police are everywhere. We can no longer speak the truth because it might offend somebody. Every human failing is blamed on someone or something else. If someone stands up and says that a disproportionate percentage of crime in this country is committed by African-Americans, they are labeled as racists. When courageous African-Americans stand up and acknowledge these truths and call on their leaders to recognize the problem and take steps to deal with it, they are vilified and called 'Uncle Tom'. Phonies like Al Sharpton have a vested interest in the status quo. If there were no 'downtrodden and misunderstood' young thugs terrorizing our streets, he would have no reason for being in his self-appointed role as their guardian. Men like Sharpton, who steadfastly deny where the blame for the high crime rate among blacks rightly belongs, have done more to hold back African-Americans than any white man.

Finally we come to money. The current national debt in the United States is $14 trillion dollars or about $128,000 per taxpayer. That number has grown by an astonishing $4 trillion since President Obama took office. When I can't afford that new car I want, I look wistfully at a picture of the shiny car in a magazine and say: maybe next year. Our government, and many individuals, show no such restraint. The housing mortgage crisis that plunged America and the rest of the world into financial chaos was the direct result of such behavior. Illegal immigration costs taxpayers an estimated $113 billion annually, and those costs are on the rise. When will it stop? As Margaret Thatcher said: "The trouble with Socialism is that sooner or later you run out of other people's money." Well guess what folks, we're there.

I wish we were leaving our children a better world. The only slim hope I see is for people to wake up and, like the news anchor played so beautifully by Peter Finch in the movie 'Network', holler out: "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore." I guess that's what the Tea Party is trying to do. Like the group of patriots they are named for, they are demanding radical change in a system that has lost its way.

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Reality Check

I can tend to be a "glass half-empty" kind of guy if I don't take a reality check once in a while. I complain about anything to anyone who will listen. My long-suffering wife is clearly the person usually exposed to my rants, and for that I apologize. Politics, traffic, the weather, my aches and pains, thoughtless people...the list goes on. Even if it only reins me in temporarily, I try to get a "glass half-full" perspective every now and again. It's really easy to be reminded how good I have it, all I have to do is look around me at what others in the world must endure.

I live in the greatest country in the world, bar none. I am free to do what I like within the law, and that includes disagreeing with my government. I have the right to marry who I please, practice any religion I choose, do anything I like for a living, and not fear that someone will bang on my door in the middle of the night and take me away for my beliefs. Our forefathers called it "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness". As Americans, we are born with these rights, and sometimes take them for granted. We have only to look at what's going on in Egypt, Libya, Iran and Afghanistan to know how lucky we are that our system protects us from such despotic and fanatical leaders.

I've been whining all winter about the cold and the snow as if a little bad weather was the worst suffering a man had to endure. What about starving people in disease-ridden Africa with no hope of a better life for their children; earthquake and tsunami victims in Japan now contemplating an even greater fear of nuclear fallout; flood ravaged families in Queensland, Australia who were lucky to escape the rampaging waters with their lives; hurricane victims in Haiti whose world was turned upside down overnight...I ought to be able to manage a little winter without bitching and moaning.

I take every traffic jam or missed light as a personal affront. I fidget when people drive in front of me as if they had nowhere to go and all day to get there. I curse the morons who tailgate or cut me off. I mentally flip-off the dangerous clowns who run red lights or pass me on the right. I forget that driving is a privilege. People in other parts of the world walk miles to fetch water. Villagers scale mountains to visit relatives in the next town. Poverty-stricken natives ride on overcrowded buses and trains in the company of goats and chickens to get where they're going. Maybe that pot hole on the Belt Parkway isn't the end of the world after all.

My back aches in the morning and my sinuses fill up at night. While these minor health issues don't keep me from leading a full life, including walking three miles a day and playing a round of golf every week, that doesn't mean I'm not going to complain about them. What I need to do is look around at folks coping with life-threatening diseases, or even health problems that greatly impact their quality of life. I need to look at my granddaughter who's had more surgeries than I can count in her eight short years of life, and yet finds joy in even the smallest things. I should emulate my daughter and son-in-law, who cope every day with the challenges of having a special needs child, but don't obsess about it. They do what must be done, and get on with their lives.

It's so easy to fall into a rut. I wish I could say that reflecting on these things will cause me to have a St. Paul-like epiphany and change my ways for the better. Maybe I can at least make it to dinner time.

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Marcella's Nightmare

New York City's Association for Children's Services (ACS) was in the news again last week after yet another death of an abused child. Last year, severely malnourished four-year-old Marcella Pierce died in her Bedford-Stuyvesant apartment weighing a scant 18 pounds and showing signs of other traumas. Her mother, Carlotta Brett-Pierce, was arrested and charged with murder, manslaughter and assault, but recently prosecutors charged three more people, including two ACS case workers and the girl's own grandmother, with contributing to her death. "Baby Marcella might be alive today had these ACS workers attended to her case with the basic levels of care it deserved, or had her grandmother stepped in and put a stop to the shocking abuse she is charged with facilitating," said Brooklyn DA Charles Hynes.

The indictment charges that the grandmother witnessed the little girl being tied to a bed and her crib many, many times. The indictment also charges that former ACS caseworker Damon Adams failed to make nearly all of the mandated biweekly visits to the Bedford-Stuyvesant home, and falsified ACS records to show he did; Chereece Bell, his former ACS supervisor, is accused of failing to properly oversee and monitor Adams' work with Marcella and her family. Brooklyn DA Charles Hynes said, “I said at the time we announced the indictment of Marcella’s mother that this was not going to be an investigation that was going away. We are going to find out at long last what they’re doing at ACS to make sure there are no more child fatalities."

This story is so tragic on a number of levels. First, there is the girl's family...how could a mother inflict such brutal abuse on her child? How could a grandmother stand by while this happened? And please don't give me that crap about poverty creating an environment where the mother felt helpless and hopeless...that is pure B.S. How does being poor cause people to torture their children? You want to hold up liquor stores, I can see that. You want to give your child up for foster care, okay. But how does beating and starving a child help your poverty? Anybody who does this has to be seriously evil. I am as far from being a perfect person as anyone, so I have been trying harder not to judge people. I keep looking for mitigating circumstances that might justify such horrifying behavior, but I just can't imagine any.

Another criminal failure is the behavior of the heartless, uncaring ACS workers into whose hands poor Marcella's fate was placed. They must have understood that if this child was in the ACS system, there was a reason. Something about her family, environment or history caused a flag to be raised that warned: look in on this child from time to time. She is at risk for harm to befall her. How could they falsify reports saying they had performed this vital duty when they did not? Don't they have the brains to comprehend that every week that passes without them checking up on this child puts her one step closer to danger? Their caseload was not heavy; they were just too god damned lazy to do their jobs. I'm glad the D.A. is prosecuting, but some slick lawyer will probably get them off with a slap on the wrist.

Finally, the system itself failed Marcella and other children like her. ACS hires people totally unqualified for this kind of work. I'm sure there are good, hardworking case workers, and my thanks goes out to them for doing a very difficult job, but clearly not all can be trusted with the welfare, indeed, the very lives of at-risk children. There needs to be supervision, especially of new workers, until they prove they are competent and caring in working to protect the children placed in their care. Management must diligently make follow-up visits to ensure shortcuts are not being taken. New York City seems more interested in chasing traffic scofflaws than in monitoring the welfare of kids in the ACS system. This is a disgrace and it has to stop.

There are far too many stories in the news of children who are horribly abused by the very people who should be nurturing and protecting them. I hope there is a special place in hell for the monsters who engage in such unspeakable evil. In the meanwhile, if they need someone here on earth to pull the switch that fries these bastards, I hereby volunteer my services.

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The World Turns Upside Down

Life is so unpredictable. One day everything is going along as usual, and then suddenly, madness. The earthquake and tsunami in Japan is that kind of surreal event for the Japanese people. Earthquakes are not uncommon in Japan, but nothing like the magnitude 9.0 quake that hit on March 11, 2011 has been seen since September 1, 1923 when a magnitude 8.3 quake killed between 100,000 and 140,000 people. In the recent March 11 earthquake, the death toll (as yet unknown) and property damage from the earthquake were exacerbated by a horrific tsunami that swept away all in its path. Entire villages were wiped out and the fate of their inhabitants unknown. Contemplating all of this, with the added threats of the possibility of another significant quake in the next 48 hours, and the possibility of a nuclear plant meltdown, just numbs the mind.

Years ago these events were less personal. Sure they were reported in the newspapers for a few days, but with today's on site media coverage, the circumstances become frighteningly real. The terrifying footage from Japan comes into our living rooms and we find ourselves face to face with the people victimized by this tragedy. A young child who was happy and playing in his crib on March 10 is now being scanned for radiation poisoning by a space-suited technician, while his concerned mother looks on. Overworked doctors and nurses struggle to cope with hospitals overflowing with victims, wondering how much worse it will get if one of Japan's nuclear power plants lets go. Even TV reporters sent to cover this story are torn between doing their jobs and exposing themselves to unspeakable risks while their own families at home pray for their safe return.

Japan has experienced maybe 25 significant earthquakes in the past 100 years. Their government enforces strict standards for building construction, and businesses do all they can to protect computer data bases and equipment. The Japan Meteorological Agency developed an Early Earthquake Warning system that automatically calculates the focus and magnitude of the earthquake and estimates the seismic intensity for each location by detecting the preliminary tremors near its focus. Japanese citizens are thoroughly schooled about what to do when one of these early warnings is broadcast. Even with advanced technology however, the best the populace can hope for is up to 30 seconds advance warning, not enough to do much but get themselves to the sturdiest possible shelter and pray.

There are reports of Japanese citizens staging a mass exodus from the country and getting on a plane to anywhere to escape the consequences of a nuclear melt down. Their personal safety is the immediate concern and the future is something they can try to arrange when they are out of harm's way. I can't imagine what they must be feeling. I try to put myself in their shoes but the scenario just does not compute. I suppose that those lucky enough to be alive consider leaving all they know behind and relocating their families to be an option they are fortunate to have. I'm sure one of the questions that will be debated when the smoke clears is why did the Japanese build so many nuclear plants when the frequency of earthquakes in their country is so great? The short answer is that they have no coal or fossil fuels, and if they want to compete in an industrialized world, nuclear was risky, but the only realistic choice.

The Japanese are a resilient race as witnessed by their recovery from World War II and the devastation of the atomic bomb. Not only did they recover, but with help from the United States, developed into a modern, technologically superior world power. They have created glittering cities, giant corporations , and a healthy standard of living for their people, all the while respecting the ways and traditions of the past. I found myself callously thinking this morning what effect this earthquake would have on the stock market and my financial future until I remembered the dazed looks on the faces of people wandering the ruins looking for loved ones. This tragedy touched us all, and we can only hope that Japan will rise from such a devastating blow to become great once again.

What I'm left with in thinking how quickly things can change in the world is a determination to appreciate what I have in life...to hold my loved ones closer, to let the little things go, and to be less quick to judge. Life is too unpredictable to do otherwise.

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Next Stop, Charleston

After three nice days in Savannah, we rented a car and headed North about two hours drive to another low-country jewel of the South, Charleston, South Carolina. The rental rate from Hertz for less than 4 hours use of their vehicle was obscene, but we didn’t have much choice. The ride was a pleasant one as the road meandered from Route 17 onto Interstate 95 and back to 17. Coming from New York, where everything is vertical, we were surprised at how flat the landscape looked. We were told to watch for speed traps, so our pace was leisurely. We also saw road signs that reminded us that we were a long way from Staten Island. Lots of stores selling guns and ammo, and I must have seen twenty signs advertising taxidermy services. As we entered the Charleston city limits, we saw fewer house trailers and more big bucks mansions.

After checking into our hotel in the Charleston Historic District, we walked across the street to the conveniently located Visitor’s Center to get some tips on what we should see in the city during our stay. We were lucky to just catch a departing, 90-minute mini-bus tour of the area narrated by a guide who was very well-informed of Charleston’s history. His great grandfather had fought and died for the Confederacy, and we heard all we needed to know and more…I thought the guy was going to follow us back to our room. He did provide some useful recommendations on local restaurants which we put to good use. The first place we tried was Virginia’s, just a couple of blocks from where we were staying. Our waitress, Stella, was friendly and told us that the tour guide had steered us right. After devouring the She Crab Soup followed by the Shrimp with Grits, I felt like a good old boy gone to heaven.

Next day we set out for a walk along Meeting Street, which went in a straight line down to the Charleston waterfront. We passed stately mansions, churches, restaurants, museums, and a long row of stalls that comprise City Market, an assortment of wares sold by hundreds of vendors. Sweet grass basket weavers can be seen in every building, along with, local artists, jewelry, spices, sauces, and local candies. Stately horse and carriages gallop by with people from all over the world, and restaurants line both North and South Market Streets. The atmosphere is festive and distinctly Southern. After picking up some souvenirs, we visited the Gibbes Art Museum for some local culture. The following day we hit the Charleston Museum and were pleasantly surprised by the extent and depth of their collections. One exhibit had period costumes from the Civil War era and people were encouraged to get dressed up and take pictures.

Like Savannah, many of Charleston’s historic homes were saved from the wrecking ball by the local preservation society. We toured several of these magnificent mansions and can’t imagine that anyone would ever have condoned their destruction. One house in particular, the John C. Calhoun Mansion, was spectacular. After falling into disrepair and sinking so low as to be used as barracks for naval personnel, the house was bought by a Washington, D.C. lawyer who spent millions restoring it. In addition he puts his considerable collection of antiques on display in every room of the home. Interestingly, unlike most homes open to tours by the public, the Calhoun Mansion is actually lived in by its owner and his family. The rooms and the surrounding gardens were a pleasure to see, and a reminder of the grandeur of a different time when generations of families lived in splendor in the old ancestral manor.

Travel helps us understand the diversity of this great country into which we had the privilege of being born. People are so different down south and out west and up north, and yet they are all part of the fabric of America. I have been critical of people who immigrate to the United States only for a paycheck and the government-funded freebies. They have no love for this country except for what it can give them. They long for the day when they can leave our shores and return to wherever they came from; I say good riddance and don't let the door hit you in the ass. My ancestors came to America for a better life, and they worked hard to achieve it. I am proud to be an American and proud of this country and all it represents. I hope to see a lot more of it before the good Lord cashes me in.

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Georgia on My Mind

If being the birthplace of Johnny Mercer is the only thing Savannah, Georgia ever did for the world, it would be enough, but there is much more to this antebellum, soft-spoken Southern city. We traveled there last week for the first time and were completely charmed. Savannah is famous for many things including battles in the Revolutionary War, Sherman's March to the Sea during the Civil War, birthplace of The Girl Scouts, and of course the movie "Midnight in the Garden of Good & Evil" was set here using Johnny Mercer's ancestral home as a backdrop. We stayed in Savannah's Historic District where landscaped town squares, period homes, walled gardens, museums, picturesque waterfront, art galleries, theaters, churches, and great Southern restaurants offer the visitor a rich cultural experience.

A lot of this beauty may not have survived if not for the good ladies of the Georgia Historical Society headquartered in Savannah. Chartered by the Georgia General Assembly in 1839, the Georgia Historical Society is the state’s oldest cultural organization and first and only statewide historical society. They have been instrumental in preserving the cultural and architectural legacy of Savannah and other Georgia cities. When the demolition crews planned to tear down some of the state's most treasured residential and commercial structures, the Society fought for and won the right to see them preserved. We owe them a great debt of gratitude for their determination and foresight.

Shortly after our arrival we started walking; you won't find a nicer city to see on foot. We passed The Lady and Sons, Paula Deen's restaurant in Savannah, and were lucky enough to get a reservation for the same night. Dinner was good, but the crowds that storm the place force them to keep their menu somewhat limited. We also had good Southern dinners at Churchill's Pub and The Chart House on the Savannah River. They have a trolley-style bus that tours the Historic District, and you can hop on and off for one price. We used it some, but did most of our sightseeing on foot. We made interesting stops at the Julia Lowe House, the woman who founded the Girl Scouts, the Owens-Thomas House where the walled gardens are colorful and serene, and the Ships of the Sea Maritime Museum on manicured grounds with amazingly realistic ship's models including the Titanic.

A pleasant surprise was ours when we looked for a church to attend Sunday Mass and found the incredibly beautiful St. John the Baptist Cathedral just a short walk from our hotel. The interior of this magnificent church looks like something straight out of Florence, Italy. Vaulted ceilings, marbled columns, stately altar, sculpted Stations of the Cross, and murals everywhere make this a stop worth seeing. Coming off a multi-million dollar renovation, the Cathedral is awe inspiring. Mass was a tad long for my taste, but the congregation was dressed so nicely, it reminded me of high mass in my old neighborhood parish. We left feeling spiritually uplifted, and walked into the bright sunshine of an 80 degree Savannah Sunday, a treat in itself after this year's brutal winter up North.

Another fun stop was Leopold’s Ice Cream, founded in 1919 by three immigrant brothers from Greece: George, Peter, and Basil Leopold. Generations of Savannahians have loved Leopold’s ice cream. During the early years, food service was added and Savannah began enjoying tasty treats such as hamburgers, baby clubs, and pimento cheese sandwiches. Johnny Mercer grew up a block away from Leopold’s and was a faithful customer when he was home from Hollywood. He even told Peter he would write a song about Leopold’s famous “Tutti-Frutti” ice cream, which had become a Leopold’s hallmark and Savannah’s favorite. The fountain and interior looked a lot like the ice cream parlors we frequented growing up in Brooklyn. Needless to say, we dropped in to sample the legendary ice cream and it didn't disappoint.

Savannah is a place you go to decompress. The flowers, palm trees and brightly colored houses are just so calming to Type A Northerners. It's definitely a city worth visiting. Here's a little Johnny Mercer to put you in the mood. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CPyK13OCxR0

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Have a Nice Trip Y'all

Back from vacation in Savannah-Charleston. It was a great trip and I'll be writing more about those lovely cities in future posts. Today's blog is about flying...something we do only reluctantly. We flew Continental to Savannah, and as we boarded the plane at Newark, I noticed that some people had on their "flying" clothes. Now I can see being comfortable, after all it is a cramped space, but the outfits some folks wear on airplanes are truly horrifying. Pajama bottoms and sweats that look like they Simonized their cars with them are a big favorite. Also, t-shirts with "funny" sayings are popular, such as Look Everyone Makes Mistakes, Take Your Parents For Example. Finally, there are the hats that just scream: look at me, I'm an asshole.

So we board with these pinheads after going through the endless security checks. We taxi out to the runway only to hear the intercom crackle and the laconic pilot's voice (they all sound the same) come on with the following announcement: Folks, we're waiting a while to take off...some of the pilots have been reporting wind shear problems. Really? Two words you don't want to hear sitting on the runway are "wind shear". On the list of airplane emergencies, wind shear ranks second, with only exploding fireball ahead of it. Then we hear: We should be taking off shortly. In airline speak that means sometime in the next 90 minutes. Once airborne, we now hear the phrase "a little turbulence"... translation...two minutes of wide-eyed, clenched-jawed terror.

During the flight the perky flight attendant (they used to be called stewardesses when they were attractive and polite) says we may move about the cabin. No can do. I'm wedged in the window seat and my lovely wife is giving me that you better not have to go to the bathroom look. I sip my little glass of juice (forget meals now days) fully aware that the liquid will soon be wanting to exit my body at the worst possible moment when the beverage cart is between me and the minuscule bathroom. I've heard of the mile high club, but I'm sure it's a myth. I can barely stay on my feet long enough to take a whiz much less muster up any acrobatic romantic maneuvers.

We land in Savannah and head for the baggage carousel. They make this sound like a fun amusement park ride, but it's hell on earth as 100 pieces of luggage that look exactly like mine come rolling down the line. Burly men knock down little old ladies when they see a bag they think is theirs. At least they check their bags, unlike the circus freaks that bring carry-on luggage the size of steamer trunks onto the plane and then stand there pounding it into the cramped overhead compartments. Oh, and while they do this, their nasty body parts are in your face since you are already seated. I'm going to bring a long hat pin on my next flight to shish kabob one of these thoughtless morons.

We drove down to Charleston from Savannah in a rental car that cost me $130 for four hours use. The flight home from Charleston was an interesting one. It was a beautiful day, so thankfully wind shear wasn't going to be a problem. As we taxied out for takeoff, Captain Laidback comes on the intercom and announces we are heading back to the terminal, no reason given. We arrive at the gate and two large, heavily armed Air Marshall's practically lift this guy out of his seat and forcibly take him off the airplane. He had been arguing with the flight attendant about moving his carry-on luggage to a safer place, and also gave the staff in the terminal some attitude prior to boarding. Some passengers heard him muttering threats and complained to the flight attendant. I hope they slapped his mouthy ass in jail.

More trip details to follow.

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LOOKING FOR A WORTHY CHARITY? TRY THESE FOLKS:
Children's Craniofacial Association