Another Hail and Farewell

Well, with the possible exception of the world ending in these next few days, we’ve made it through 2011.  Unlike 2010, this past year held some fairly exciting, and tragic moments with most of them taking place far across the globe.  Vying for the top story was the killing of Osama Bin Laden, Japans triple devastation at the hands of Mother Nature, Mr. Gadhaffi’s trip to the meat locker, and perhaps what has become known as “The Arab Spring” which is fast turning into a Muslim winter. In looking back, the Wall Street occupiers or the Congressional showdowns we have witnessed in this hemisphere, just don’t  match up to the kind of history making moments that have unfolded across the planet.

As I always do, this past week I caught the segment “Hail and Farewell” on CBS Sunday Morning.  It annually uses the last broadcast of the year to help remember, in pictures and in words, those who have left us a bit poorer for their passing.  All the notables were there including Steve Jobs, Elizabeth Taylor, Betty Ford, and James Arness, but I wondered who else we might have had the opportunity to remember if only the segment lasted more than just the 13 minutes CBS gave it.

Tony Geiss left us this year, Children all over world would be humming a different tune had he not given us the score from The Land Before Time, Spielberg’s An American Tail, and nearly half of the  Sesame Street songbook.  Fred Steiner wrote a bit as well.  As a conductor, composer and arranger, scores of shows and movies like The Color Purple, Perry Mason, and Hogan’s Heroes to The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show, The Twilight Zone, and Return of the Jedi would not have sounded the same.  Fred was 88 years young.

Leo Kahn got tired of having to shop in a catalog every time he needed supplies for his office, as the founder of Staples; he solved that problem for all of us.  For his second act, Leo gave us Whole Foods Market.  Murray Handwerker was also an American businessman who toiled with his Father at their small food stand in Coney Island.  Needing to expand the business to feed two families, Murray took over and renovated “The Roadside Rest” in Oceanside, New York.  After a few struggling years, Murray reintroduced his Fathers menu and renamed the place after him, Nathan’s. The rest is hot dog history.  Murray was just shy of 90 at his passing.

Some called him “The Silver Fox” but to most of us he will always be remembered as “The Duke of Flatbush”.  Edwin Donald “Duke” Snyder was a world class center fielder who played briefly for the Mets and the San Francisco Giants but will always be remembered for his 15 seasons with those Bums, the Brooklyn Dodgers.  Ruth Roberts used her Julliard education to write for the likes of the Beatles and Buddy Holly, but she will most be remembered for her connection to baseball as well for in 1963, she penned the fight song “Meet the Mets” for that brand new N.Y. franchise.

Speaking of Buddy Holly, Carl Bunch was invited to play the drums for him at the 1959 “Winter Dance Party” in Clear Lake, Iowa.  The temperature was well below zero that frigid February morning and the tour bus heater failed causing Bunch to come down with a case of frostbite.  The drummer went to the hospital while Ritchie Valens, “The Big Bopper”, and Buddy Holly boarded that fateful flight.  Carl rejoined the band this past March.

George Charles Ballas was an American Entrepreneur.  While the Father of a famous ballroom dancer, and Grandfather to Mark Ballas of Dancing with the Stars, he will probably be best remembered not for cutting a rug, but for trimming the lawn.  He gave us the Weed Eater in 1971.  Alan Haberman took a chance on a quirky idea when on a summer morning in 1974, someone brought him a small paper square filled with lines and told him it would revolutionize his supermarket.  At 8:01AM on June 26th of that year, a 10 pack of Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit gum slid down the conveyor belt, passing an optical scanner, and rang up .67 cents. The inventor of the bar code died in Newton Mass. on June 12th.

John W. Herivel lived most of his life in obscurity; it came with the job he accepted over 71 years ago.  Herivel was a code breaker, but not just any code breaker.  Herivel discovered the “Herival Tip” while working at Bletchley Park outside of London from 1940 through 1945.  This “Tip” allowed Allied cryptanalysts to determine which German radio operator was sending a signal, saving time in translation and thereby saving countless thousands of American and British pilots from ambush.  One of those planes likely saved over the English Channel was carrying 1st Lt. Richard “Dick” Winters.  Winters, who would be a Major by the VE Day, commanded Company “E”, 2nd Battalion, 506th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 101 Airborne Division.  It would take too long to highlight for you his war time accomplishments; after all, it took HBO ten weeks and over 700 minutes of air time to tell the story of his “Band of Brothers” Major Winters was the last of the Easy Company commanders to pass away.

Americans lost some true pioneers in the year that was, Virginia Shanta Klinekole, born in 1924 was a Politician from New Mexico.  She was also a full blooded Apache, and the first woman to be named “Chief” of that tribe when she was elected as the President of the Mescalero Apache Council.  Violet “Vi” Cowden was a trailblazer in her own right.  Cowden was the first of only 114 Woman’s Airforce Service Pilots, (WASP”S) to fly for the United States Army Air Corp during World War Two.  Ferrying military planes from the factories to their bases for deployment, Cowden flew P-47’s, P-39’s, P-63 Kingcobra’s and her favorite, the P-51 Mustang.  Violet hung up her chute at 95 this year.

Charles LeRoy Gittens served this country’s military proudly, but he will always be remembered as the first African American Secret Service Agent.  Dorothy Edwards Brunson was a broadcaster.  She spent many working years in the 70’s working for many of New York’s top stations, but she left all that in 1979 to start WEBB in Baltimore, making her the first African American woman to own a radio station.  Not satisfied, she sold her holdings in 1990 to establish WGTW in a Philadelphia suburb making her the first African American woman to own a television station as well.

John Carroll Dye who played “Andrew” in that wonderful series was truly “Touched by an Angel” when he stepped into the light one last time this past January.  You might have thought that given her profession, Dorothy Lena Young might have escaped the final curtain, but even Harry Houdini’s stage assistant could not unlock the last mystery.  I give her an “A” for effort though; she was 103 when she disappeared.

The list goes on, there is Charles Huron Kaman who not only pioneered the gas turbine helicopter with Igor Sikorsky, but used his love of music to create the Ovation Guitar.  Dr. Alfred Mordecai Freedman who in 1973 used his painstaking research to have the American Psychiatric Foundation remove Homosexuality from the list of mental illnesses.  Clarise Taylor, whose ground breaking work started with the American Negro Theatre and led her to roles with Otto Preminger, Clint Eastwood, and her most memorable casting as Anna Huxtable on The Bill Cosby Show, and we even lost Ralph Lomma, who along with his brother Al have given us nearly 60 years of putting a golf ball past a windmill or through a clowns head as the inventor of Miniature golf played his last hole in September.

Perhaps the one loss that I would have expected to see on CBS was noticeably absent.  Albert “Doc” Brown was a dentist.  In 1937 his principal claim to fame was that he was the godson of Buffalo Bill, and the cousin of actor Henry Fonda.  In 1937, Brown entered the military and was promptly shipped to the Philippines.  Brown, along with thousands of American and Filipino troops was captured in 1942 when the Japanese invaded.  The enemy troops forced 78,000 Allied prisoners of war to march 65 miles from Bataan to a POW camp without food, water, or medical attention.  Nearly 11,000 prisoners died during the march.  Brown recorded the events he witnessed using a secret writing tablet hidden in the lining of his medical bag.
Brown would endure three more years of imprisonment during which he ate nothing but rice, became infected with more than 12 diseases, suffered a broken neck and back, and went nearly blind from malnutrition.  He had lost over 80 pounds, and was told by his doctors that because of his severe condition, he would not live to see 50 years of age.  He was 40 when he was rescued.  This year, at the unbelievable age of 105, Doctor Albert Brown, DMD, had the last laugh on his captors, and apparently, his doctors!
The late Andy Rooney, whom we also lost this year, used to say that life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer it gets to the end, the faster it goes.  I am fairly certain that no one reading this can say that this time of year is easy.  We all remember that last New Year’s kiss with a Parent no longer with us, or holiday memories of our children who have grown and gone.  I for one am a firm believer that love, not time, heals all wounds, so this New Years Eve, dance like you would if nobody was looking, sing like you don’t need the money, and laugh and love till the sun comes up.  It’s times like this that require a really bold and brave running start if 2012 is going to be a good one.
Happy New Year to you all.

A Jewish Perspective on Christmas

I’ve come to believe that as a practicing Jew, I probably have more in common with my Catholic and Christian friends who attend Church, than I do with un-observant Jews.  I believe it is likely that if they were to think about it, those same friends would find more in common with me, than they would with the non-practicing of their own faith as well.  I have also come to believe, that the word “believe” is at the root of that commonality.

The rich, the poor, the strong, the frail, and even the lucky all have their stories of how these seemingly never ending difficult times have “tried their souls”.  Some of us have lost livelihoods in this economic cesspool that once was the American engine of success.  Some have seen their families dissolve as the monies that maintained their materialism vanished, and the wounds of a loveless marriage could no longer be concealed.  And still others have lost forever the warmth and the grace of ones they have loved. 

The way I’ve come to tell the difference between my “believers” and the “non’s” has been in how they have handled their adversity.  Those that have continued to be charitable to others, love their neighbors, spend time with their children, and keep G-d in their lives, seem to be doing better than their circumstances should allow.  So why is that?

One can almost feel the palpable proof that the weeks leading up to the 25^th of December bring a special sparkle to everything that moves.  Maybe it’s just the season, after all even if the church has had some difficulty keeping their parishioners  attention, Macy’s, Hallmark, Toys R’ Us, and Hollywood have certainly done great work of keeping us in the spirit.  Or maybe there is something more?

If all Christmas boiled down to was extended shopping lists, over-eating, and thousands of dollars spent on outdoor decorations, why do so many of our “enlightened left” spend so much of their time fighting the very mention of the day?  It’s because there is something more!

Christmas is that chance for all to say thank you, to say I’m sorry, to say I miss you, or to say I love and appreciate you, all under the cover of G-d.  It is a season when the most hardened of us can cry of love lost, forgive another for transgression, or allow those estranged from us back into our hearts.

I refuse to believe that goodness and kindness occur in a vacuum. From before written words were shared, mankind has always had some little spark of innate kindness in him.  As a person of faith, I am comfortable in my belief that G-d is that spark, and while it might not thrill some to admit that they may not be entirely in control of their own destiny, for most of us, this season brings a comforting reminder that a force greater than us all, is watching and guiding us on a path that is good.

Truth be told, the Christmas season has its dark side.  Shoppers lined up for hours to buy gifts for relatives not seen since last Christmas, cooking, cleaning, wrapping, decorating, and then back to cooking again, and traffic jams that can be seen from space.  But Christmas also has a way of bringing out the best in those of us who have kept that golden glow trapped inside while the more mundane months of the year creak by. 

While I will always share a philosophical difference with my non-Jewish friends over the religious aspects of the Christmas holiday, I share wholeheartedly the need, if not the reason, for the season.  

A Perspective on Thanksgiving

I’ve shared some of this before and thought it would be appropriate to bring it up as Thanksgiving approached.  I am reminded again of how I was tuned into one of the cable news channels to watch as poll data was shared concerning the American state of mind.   

The poll alleged that 49 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed, and 51 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the President.  In essence, half of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.

Now I can understand with the President angering everyone on the right, and Congress pissing off everyone period, there is ample reason out there to be upset.  But when you look closely at the poll, there would seem to be a deeper unhappiness brewing among the folks.  So with a Right Brain and a Left Heart, I started thinking, ''What are we so unhappy about?''

Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?  Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter?  Could it be that 91 percent of these unhappy folks have a job?  Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time, and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?

Is it the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state, or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter that has us so distraught?

I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough.  Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and Provide services to help, and even send a helicopter to take you to the hospital if needed.

Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home. You may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings. Or if while at home, watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes, an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss.

This all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs, or militias, raping or pillaging, and where nearly 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers. How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world?  Maybe that is what has 49 percent of you unhappy.

Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S., yet has such a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have, and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good L-rd we live here.

I know, I know. What about this President who couldn’t lead his way out of a paper bag with a flashlight and scissors? Or that the President has tried to shove everything from Socialist healthcare to same sex marriage down our throats whether we like it or not. Or the Congress, who on any given Sunday make Ali Baba and his band of thieves look like a bunch of amateurs.

Well when last I checked, no Congressmen was waiting at my door this morning, keeping me from going to work, and no U.S. Senator hid the keys to my car when I was out looking for work, I was by right as an American citizen, free to make every effort I had the strength for, to better my own lot.

So why then the flat-out discontentment in the minds of 49 percent of Americans?  Say what you want, but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds, it leads; and they specialize in bad news.  Everybody will watch a car crash on a “dash-cam”, but how many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this. They offer what sells, and when criticized, try to defend their actions by 'justifying' them in one way or another. If you don’t believe me, let me suggest the following:

On May 24, 2011 Attorneys for Casey Anthony offered opening arguments in their successful bid to defend their Client before Judge Belvin Perry.  42 days later, a jury of her “peers” found Ms. Anthony not guilty of a crime that most in America believed she committed.  As tragic as that verdict was to many, what I find more damming of us as a people is that in those seven short weeks, 73 American service men and women lost their lives in the deserts of Afghanistan, and while the names of Casey, Caylee, and Jose Baez will linger through the year, I doubt if any of you could name just one of those fallen heroes.

Stop buying the negativism you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage.  Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad.

Yes we will change the President.  Yes we will climb out of this slump.  Yes we will bring America back to a time when hard work, character, and patriotism were what made this country a success.  We will I pray, do it this time without the racism, segregation, bigotry, and anti-Semitism that so pervaded the underbelly of our Parents America, but we will do it.  We are Americans, and that’s just what we do!

With Thanksgiving just a few days away, try and remember that we are among the most blessed people on Earth, and should thank G-d every day for being born in this, the greatest country ever.  Chin up and chest out America, we’ve done it before, and we can do it again!

Thanksgiving Day, November 11th

It is not the reporter who has given us freedom of the press, nor the lawyer who has given us the right to a fair trial. The politician is not the reason we have the right to vote, nor the author who has given us our freedom of speech.  For all of these privileges, you can thank the Soldier.  And while it may be appropriate to thank your teachers for the ability to read these words, it is the Soldier you must thank for having the free will to read them in English. In paraphrasing these words by Charles M. Provence I suggest to you that November 11^th is this nation’s true day of Thanksgiving.

Unlike that Monday in May, when we pause to remember those brave few who have given as Lincoln suggested, “their last full measure of devotion”, Veteran’s Day was established for the purpose of honoring those dedicated men and women who have stood in great harm’s way to protect our freedom, and have blessedly returned home to live and love again.

Following their victories in Europe and the Pacific, our Parents and Grandparents who fought WW2 are often referred to as the “greatest generation”.  In 1943, nearly 11 million Americans were in uniform, most of them single men. Today, nearly 20% of our uniformed services are women, many of them juggling families along with their military career.  Sergeants and Petty Officers are no longer 19 years old commanding a platoon of other teens, but are more likely to be in their 30’s and 40’s, own their own home, and have a family to support. We should also remember that while many volunteered, nearly 10 million of those who fought the Axis more than half a century ago were drafted into their respective service.  Today, not a single service man or woman holds their rank as result of conscription; they are a truly professional fighting force.

Given their dedication, love of country, and the fact that they have willfully chosen to place themselves in harm’s way so that we might continue to live safely, I think a case can certainly be made for this generation of Soldier, Sailor, and Marine to be considered “the greatest”. 

That said, how do we thank them this November 11^th?  Fortunately, there are hundreds of organizations coast to coast whose mission is to help not only our returning Veterans, but the thousands of active and still deployed personnel.  Some of my favorites are:

The Fisher House    info@fisherhouse.org

The Fisher House program is a unique private-public partnership that supports America's military in their time of need. The program recognizes the special sacrifices of our men and women in uniform and the hardships of military service.

Because members of the military are stationed worldwide and must often travel great distances for specialized medical care, Fisher House Foundation donates "comfort homes," built on the grounds of major military centers. These homes enable family members to be close to a loved one at the most stressful of times, during the hospitalization for an unexpected illness, disease, or injury. The Fisher House Foundation uses donations to reimburse the individual facilities operated by the Army, Navy, and Air Force. No family pays to stay at any Fisher House!

Wounded Warrior Project (WWP)     www.woundedwarriorproject.org

WWP is a non-profit organization whose mission is to honor and empower wounded warriors. and to assist those men and women of our armed forces who have been injured during the conflicts in Iraq, Afghanistan, and other locations around the world.  WWP raises awareness and enlists public aid for the needs of service men and women and provides unique, direct programs and services to meet their needs

Then, of course, there is my favorite way to say thank you, and that is just to say it.  Surly if a twenty year old corporal can gather the courage to step into the line of fire in Fallujah, you can find the guts to stroll up to a service member in the airport and offer a smile and a handshake. 

You can show your respect by sharing your pride in their service with the next generation. To paraphrase an old song, teach your children.  Explain to them that freedom is not free, and that while we are most assuredly the land of the free, it is because of the brave that we remain so.  Visit a VA Hospital.  This might be a bit tough for the younger kids, but I can think of no better way to impress upon high school age teens the true cost of their X-Box and internet!

Hire a Vet!  In this tough work environment, the New Jersey job market can be nearly as challenging a territory as their tour was overseas. The unemployment rate for returning Veterans can be 2 to 4 points higher than the already staggering national average?  Try contacting “The Champion Mentor Program” at Rutgers State University or www.enableamerica.org which specializes in finding employment for disabled Veterans.  

It is comforting to look forward to November and December and the festivals they bring, but I know that were it not for those who serve and have sacrificed so that we would not have to, the joy and love of the season that is upon us might never have been.

A mortar exploded in my Fathers landing craft while approaching Omaha’s “Dog Green” beach on the morning of June 6, 1944.  Of all the men that rode that Higgins’s Boat into the withering German fire, only two survived the day.  By the 12^th of June, my Dad held the only winning ticket.  Seven long months, three Purple Hearts, and a Silver Star later, Dad, an Army Medic, was that December, finally sent home.

To all of the men and women that have worn the uniform of this country, to all those who have served on the home front or in harm’s way, to all that continue to preserve, protect, and defend our great nation, and to you Dad;  Thank you.

  

A War Seen Clearer Through Time.

This year, Americans will celebrate the 92nd anniversary of Veterans Day, which began with a Presidential proclamation as Armistice Day in November of 1919.

Armistice Day was initially set aside to honor veterans of World War I, but after the great mobilization of Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and Airmen during World War II, and after American forces had fought aggression in Korea, Congress amended the official remembrance by striking the word "Armistice", and inserting in its place the word "Veterans." With the approval of this legislation, November 11th became a day to honor American veterans of all wars.

I am old enough to remember a generation when Veteran’s Day was barely acknowledged even by the retailers who might benefit from additional sales.  Our then President Jimmy Carter, in his own words described America as struggling through “a malaise” where heroes and patriotism were but a faded memory.

But morning in America dawned, and with it a new Presidency which restored hope and faith not only for every day Americans, but for the men and women who so proudly served this country.  In the years that followed, successive actions in Grenada, Lebanon, Bosnia, Kuwait, Iraq, and Afghanistan have served to elevate our fighting men and women back to the proud pedestal once held when their Fathers fought “The Good War”, but it wasn’t always that way…

From the end of the Korean Conflict till President Kennedy began his deployment of “Military Advisors” to the country of Vietnam in 1961, the United States was generally able to skirt the many local and regional squabbles taking place around the globe.  This country’s actual military involvement in Vietnam began as assistance to the French in the fall of 1932.  It would take more than three decades, but our small contingent of advisors would grow to a force that would virtually destroy one nation, and eternally fracture another.

The war in Vietnam, unlike virtually every conflict this Nation had seen before, was an action whose goals were essentially political.  At risk was not our independence, our southern or western boarders, our union, or even freedom itself; it was our government’s desire to restrain the growth and expansion of a rival form of government called Communism.  With war aims as insipid as those, it is in hindsight no wonder the conflict left us holding our first military defeat, and nursing a deeply divided country back from the brink of social anarchy. 

It is embarrassing to look back now and realize just how many in this nation vented their anger and disdain not just on those in power, but on the Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines who in their loyalty and service to this country, were powerless to do anything but advance and enforce the goals of their commanders.

Five difficult years had passed from the last helicopter leaving Saigon in April of 1975 till the inauguration of Ronald Reagan as President.  It took nearly as long as the war itself, but America was again ready to restore its faith and confidence in those who fill the boots that protect us.  Perhaps no greater Mea Culpa  could be seen than when some half a million Americans of all ages, races, and backgrounds lined Broadway in lower Manhattan on May 7, 1985 as 25,000 of our Veterans of South East Asia proudly marched the parade path.

Earlier that year, President Reagan accepted on behalf of a grateful nation, the then completed Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington D.C.  An almost obelisk like scare in the landscape, the memorial was unlike anything this nation had seen before.

Carved in its stones is the story of America, of a continuing quest to preserve both democracy and decency.  There are 58,267 names now listed on that polished black wall, including those added in 2010.  Something to think about is that most of the surviving parents of the dead, are now deceased themselves.

The names are arranged in the order in which they were taken from us by date, and within each date, the names are alphabetized. It is hard to believe we have lived 36 years since the last casualties.

The first known casualty was Richard B. Fitzgibbon, of North Weymouth, Mass., listed by the U.S. Department of Defense as having been killed on June 8, 1956. His name is listed on the Wall with that of his son, Marine Lance Cpl. Richard B. Fitzgibbon III, who was killed on Sept. 7, 1965.  The last American Soldier killed in the War was Kelton Rena Turner, an 18-year old Marine, killed in action on May 15, 1975.

There are three sets of Fathers and sons on the Wall. 39,996 on the Wall were just 22 or younger.  The largest age group, 8,283, were just 19 years old.  12 soldiers on the Wall were 17 years old, 5 were 16, and one soldier, PFC Dan Bullock was 15 years of age when lost in battle.

997 soldiers were killed on their first day in Vietnam, 1,448 soldiers were killed on their last.  31 sets of brothers are on the Wall, forever reminding us that thirty one sets of parents lost two of their sons.

8 Women are on the Wall, killed while nursing the wounded.  244 soldiers were awarded the Medal of Honor during the Vietnam War; 153 of them are on the Wall.

West Virginia had the highest casualty rate per capita in the nation with 711 killed.  Beallsville, Ohio with a population of only 475 lost 6 of her sons.  The most deaths for a single day was on January 31, 1968 at 245.  The most deaths for a single month was May 1968 at 2,415.

For many Americans who read this, they will only see the numbers that the Vietnam War created. To those of my generation that survived the war, and to the families of those who did not, we see the faces, we feel the pain that these numbers created. They were our friends, Fathers, Husbands, Wife's, sons and daughters.

There were deep divisions about the wisdom and rightness of the Vietnam War. Yet after more than a decade of desperate boat people, after the killing fields of Cambodia, after all that has happened in that unhappy part of the world, who can doubt that the cause for which our men fought was just?  Through the hindsight of historical analysis, it was after all the cause of freedom, just imperfectly pursued.

This Veterans Day, as we do every year, we take a moment to embrace the gentle heroes of Vietnam and of all our wars. We remember those who were called upon to give their last full measure of devotion for our country, and we remember those who were prepared to make that sacrifice if demanded of them, though it never was. Most of all, we remember the devotion and gallantry with which all of them ennobled their nation. Our liberties, our values, all for which America stands is safe today because brave men and women have been ready to face the fire at freedom's front. And we thank G-d for them.

How G-d Created the E.M.T.

When the Lord made EMT's and Paramedics, he was into his sixth day of overtime when an angel appeared and said, "You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one." And the Lord said, "Have you read the specs on this order?

An EMS provider has to be able to carry an injured person up a wet, grassy hill in the dark, dodge stray bullets to reach a dying child unarmed, enter homes the health inspector wouldn't touch, and not wrinkle their uniform."

"They have to be able to lift 3 times their own weight, crawl into wrecked cars with barely enough room to move, and console a grieving mother as they are doing CPR on a baby they know will never breathe again."

"They have to be in top mental condition at all times, running on no sleep, black coffee and half-eaten meals. And they have to have six pairs of hands."  The angel shook her head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands, no way."

"It's not the hands that are causing me problems," said the Lord, "It's the three pairs of eyes an EMT has to have." "That's on the standard model?" asked the angel. The Lord nodded. 

"One pair that sees open sores as they're drawing blood and asks the patient if they may be HIV positive," (when they already know, and wish they'd taken that accounting job), another pair here, on the side of the head for their partners' safety, and another pair of eyes in front that can look supportively at a frightened person and gently explain that their spouse of many years has departed this life."

"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve, "rest and work on this tomorrow." "I can't," said the Lord, "I already have a model that can talk a 250 pound drunk out from behind a steering wheel without incident and feed a family of five on a private service paycheck."

The angel circled the model of the medic very slowly, "Can it think?" she asked. "You bet," said the Lord. "It can tell you the symptoms of 100 illnesses; recite drug calculations in its sleep; intubate, defibrillate, medicate, and continue CPR nonstop over terrain that any doctor would fear, and still it keeps its sense of humor.

This medic also has phenomenal personal control. He can deal with a multi-victim trauma, coax a frightened elderly person to unlock their door, comfort an assault victim's family, and then read an article in the daily paper about responders being too slow to locate a house (which had no street sign and no house numbers.)"

Finally, the angel bent over and ran her finger across the cheek of the EMT. "There's a leak," she pronounced. "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model." "That's not a leak," said the Lord, "It's a tear." "What's the tear for?" asked the angel.

"It's for bottled-up emotions, for patients they've tried in vain to save, for commitment to that hope that they will make a difference in a person's chance to survive, for seeing an accident victim walk again, for the family time they will miss while serving the community, for life." 

"You're a genius," said the angel.

G-d replied…..

"I didn't put it there."

For My Italian Friends

The Jewish holiday of Yom Kippur is a tough one to say the least.  25 hours of fasting, introspection, and almost mandatory attendance at synagogue services where we spend the better part of the day trying to convince G-d and ourselves that this year, we’ll be better if he just gives us a chance.  Never mind that we are all likely repenting for the same things we repented for the year before, and the year before that.

 This year, as with most, the twenty five hours of Caloric abstinence ended with a meal called the “Break-fast” at the home of my Wife’s Parents.  The repast, which can be as extensive and labor intensive as a Thanksgiving dinner to prepare, is in this family at least, an extravaganza of dairy based, brunch style entrees meant to be easy on the stomach after so many hours without a bite.  This year, Mom invited cousins we had not seen in some time, as well as friends from just around the corner. 

Now the first few minutes of most of these meals are pretty quiet as everyone tries to get as many blintzes and bagels into their mouths as will fit.  But as the lox begins to disappear, and the hunger pains begin to subside, the conversation begins. 

With the headlines being what they are, it was only natural for a group of well educated adults to enter into a discussion about current events.  Were this just a conversation between my Father-in-law, who believes the only President worse than the one we have, was the one he replaced (with Carter pulling a close third), and I, the discussion would be lively enough.  But with Cousin Randy, a successful businessman having views just to the right of the Reverend Falwell, and Dad’s friend, the Judge, somewhat conservative and practical, but pessimistic that any hope is left for this country to turn around any time soon sitting at the table; I felt the tension begin to mount.

The gloves came off as the group of us attempted to solve all of our nation’s problems from unemployment and immigration to corruption and fiscal accountability.  An ambitious enough task in itself, but where nerves were finally struck, was when the discussion turned to the moral fiber of it all.

America has seen its share of tough times.  In the last 100 years, we have fought two world wars, been devastated by both disease and depression, and have lost Presidents to assassination and resignation, and all of this pales to the struggles and loss of life that preceded it in our first 100 years. Yet I can see no moment in our past where the moral fiber and decency that has held us up as a light and example to all other nations has been so challenged or even endangered, as it is today.

From the endless parade of Housewives on the Bravo Network to the sad scenes of child stars turned crack addicts, incoherently slurring their way through a 12 episode series, our sense of what is acceptable has hit an all time low.  We live in a world where athletes have multi-million dollar contracts waiting for them as they exit prison, and politicians caught lying, stealing from the public, or unfaithful to their wives, are rewarded with book and television deals shortly after blaming their misdeeds on their childhoods, their opponents, or some convenient addiction to the prescription drug.

As we commiserated over the litany of offenses to our society and our senses that seem to be driving their way deeper into our lives, one area in particular struck the Judge with special distaste.   For years now, cable television, movie scripts, and even the average “Joe” on the street have been slandering and demeaning the proud accomplishments and successes of Italian Americans.

While movies like Good Fellas (1990), A Bronx Tale (1993), and Casino (1995), all preceded it, the HBO Series “Sopranos” (1999-2007) did little to improve the image of Italian Americans. Today, an even more distorted view is offered up in the form of the MTV series “The Jersey Shore” depicting obvious Italian youth winding their way through life drunk, stoned, stupid, and forever breaking the law.

The Judge shared with me how his Father drove a truck to feed the family and put him through law school.  His uncle sold cheese, and while he ultimately became successful, it was not before losing everything three times over.

After listening to his stories, and in the spirit of this being the 74^th anniversary of our national celebration of Columbus Day, I decided to do a little research of my own and share with you a little of the true “reality” of Italian American heritage.

 Between the years 1876 to 1976, the U.S. was the largest single recipient of Italian immigrants in the world.  The Italians played a major role in the social fabric of this young nation with individuals rising to national stature in many different fields.  From 1880 to 1900, southern Italian immigrants became the predominant Italian émigré reaching nearly 485,000 in that mass migration.

In the U.S., where by the turn of the 20^th century cheap land could no longer be found, the mostly agricultural Italians in Italy became mostly urban in America.  Starting from the bottom of the occupational ladder and working up, they accepted jobs such as shoe shinning, rag picking, sewer cleaning, and whatever hard, dirty, dangerous jobs others didn't want. Even children worked at an early age, often at the expense of their education. The Italians were known for rarely accepting charity or resorting to prostitution for money, another reflection of patterns of morality brought with them from Italy.

Living conditions for the Italians tended to be over crowded and filthy.  Italian laborers also tended to skimp on food in a desperate attempt to save money. However, after time, and the later generations found their way, the dirtiness of their homes disappeared along with the complaint of weak Italians from lack of nutrition.

The Italians who immigrated to our shores were noted for their diligence and sobriety as workmen. In the late 19th and 20th centuries, Italians often became fishermen, shoemakers, waiters, fruit sellers, and tradesmen. Most were unskilled laborers though, working in mines and construction. Over the years, the Italians rose up the economic scale acquiring job skills in blue-collar jobs as well as becoming educated and entering into professions.

Italian immigrants established hundreds of mutual aid societies, based mainly on kinship and place of birth. As large numbers of Italians began to settle in America, they began to establish enclaves where they felt they would be safe from the prejudice and fears of the largely Irish and German communities that surrounded them. These communities are often referred to as Little Italy's and would be a mix of small business, bakeries, taverns and men and women selling breads and fruits from push-carts. Many of these communities would publish their own Italian-language newspapers, which contained news from Italy, promoted Italian culture and provided an outlet for frustrated new immigrants who could not yet fully understand English.

"La Familiga" (the family) was at the core of Italian immigrant life, and often seen as the root of survival. As the immigrants settled in America, however, certain traditions pertaining to the family began to change. The condition of life in America was not conducive to the patriarchal culture of Italy and the language barriers served to give the children unprecedented control over the decisions of the families.

Today, the descendants of those early Italian immigrants number nearly 16 million, according to the U.S. census of 2000; although through intermarriage, the number of people in the United States with at least one Italian grandparent is estimated to be about 26 million. The U.S. Census Bureau also reports that Italian Americans are the nation's fifth largest ethnic group, with two-thirds in white-collar positions in business, medicine, law, education and other professions.

As I’m sure the Judge already knows, far from the organized crime stereotypes or the drunken tramps that currently get portrayed by MTV, Italian Americans have made many outstanding contributions to American life since their arrival to our shores.  We are all familiar with Frank Sinatra, Joe DiMaggio, and Fiorello LaGuardia; but here are a few you might not have heard of…

Attilio Piccirilli and his five brothers carved the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, DC along with the famous lions guarding New York's Public Library, statues in Rockefeller Center, and many other works. The studio that he and his brothers established in New York in 1889 became the largest sculpture studio in the country.

The first Italian American millionaire was Generoso Pope, who came to America from Benevento in 1904. He began as a railroad laborer, later worked for a small construction firm, the Colonial Sand and Stone Company, which he bought out in 1925 and made into the largest supplier of building materials in the country.

Two Italian Americans developed the American shopping mall. William Cafaro began building and operating neighborhood shopping centers in the 1940s. When he died at age 84 in 1998, he was one of the richest men in America, leaving behind $800 million. Edward J. DeBartolo, Sr. began as a construction worker and ended with the largest real estate and Development Company in the nation. During the 1960s, DeBartolo Corporation began to develop shopping malls and suburban office parks.

Chef Boyardee, the man behind the nation's leading brand of ready-to-eat spaghetti dinners, pizza, sauce and pasta, was Ettore Boiardi, an Italian immigrant, who began as a chef's apprentice at age 11, eventually opened a restaurant in Cleveland, Ohio and in the 1930s, began selling his pasta and sauce in cans. During World War II, Chef Boyardee was the largest supplier of rations for the U.S. and Allied Forces.

John Basilone is the only enlisted Marine in U.S. history to receive the nation's two highest military honors: the Navy Cross for valor and the U.S. Congressional Medal of Honor for his service in World War II. Basilone, an Italian American Marine sergeant from New Jersey, fought at the Battle of Guadalcanal (1942), raised millions of dollars in war bonds, and was killed in action during the Battle of Iwo Jima in 1945.

Captain Don Gentile of the U.S. Army Air Force shot down over 30 Nazi planes during World War II. Eisenhower called the 24-year-old pilot a "one-man Air Force" and personally pinned the Distinguished Service Cross on him. The "Ace of Aces" was born in Ohio and bought his first plane when he was 15. He died in a training accident after the war in 1950 when he was only 30.

Lee Iacocca, (born "Lido"), brought the Chrysler Corporation back from the brink of bankruptcy during the mid-1980s. The company was in the black within a month of his tenure as chairman. He resigned in 1992.

The cough drop was created by Vincent R. Ciccone, who began his career in the 1930s as a janitor at the Charms Candy Co. and retired as the company's president and chief executive officer. Ciccone secured 20 patents, including the "Blow Pop," a lolly-pop with a bubble gum center. He died at age 81 in 1997.

The oldest tribute to Columbus still standing in America is a stone obelisk in Baltimore Maryland.  It was erected on a private estate in 1792.  Long before Hollywood and comedians began to portray Italian Americans as mobsters, drunks, killers, or beach trash, these proud and successful American’s made their forever enduring mark on the culture and the heritage that is this great country.

I for one thank G-d that Christopher Columbus had the courage to follow his dreams and convictions which allowed him to play a founding part in what turned out to be the greatest nation on earth.  See your honor, there’s still hope.

Scenes from a Storm

Forgive me for missing a week of writing to you, but for those that know me well, you can hardly blame me.  As an EMT and a coordinator with my Township’s Office of Emergency Management, last weekend's little weather event left little time to share my thoughts. Saturday started out with an early morning meeting at the volunteer first aid squad, and by the time the last minute planning was done and the overall response was over, it was late Sunday night before I could close my eyes.

Even then, being the “Servpro Guy” for much of Mercer, Middlesex, and Monmouth Counties has kept me either on the road or at my computer for nearly 16 hours a day since, and while I’m one of those who wake up every day hoping to save the world, the last 8 days has left me totally spent.

While Irene came in with much fanfare and warning, the winds were not what we had expected.  The rainfall it produced however, especially after two unusually wet weeks, left many in our communities devastated with its accumulation.  In a single night, nearly one million households in New Jersey were left in some way damaged by this unwanted end of August guest.

Flooded basements seemed to be the norm.  Many, whose homes were built on a slab of concrete, lost kitchens, dining rooms, play rooms, and pianos which to those who lost a lifetime of memories stored in their besieged basements, would gladly have trades places.

As often happens in circumstances of sudden tragedy, people and personalities change to deal with the moment at hand.  In some, a calming sense of leadership can add comfort to the kayos, in others, a desire for self preservation may lead folks to ignore obvious needs around them, even when a helping hand to someone else, will lead to a more secure station for their own situation.

Maybe because we are Americans, charity and a spirit of community rests within us.  After generations of surviving war and assassinations, earthquakes and floods, tornados and terrorist attacks, Americans seem to have an innate ability to pull together as a family when disaster strikes.  Some amongst us however, are due honorable mention…

With the storm’s intensity growing, and the worst of it only hours away, his supply of donuts, bagels, and coffee was enough to keep the shop open just a little bit more.  I stopped in for a caffeine fix before what I knew would be a long night and mentioned that the Township was setting up a shelter for those likely to be evacuated.  We had a power generator to keep the refrigeration going, but no ice for the evacuees or volunteers, could he help.  Without a word, his Manager came out with 50 pounds of ice from the back and threw a couple of dozen donuts on top for good measure.  Four hours later, as the rain was falling in sheets, he called to tell me that he had stayed in the store to keep bagging ice and wondered if the Police, Fire, and EMS volunteers would like all of the donuts and bagels left in the store.  No charge.

She and her husband own a small pizzeria not far from the donut shop.  The Police and ambulance crews make it a regular stop many evenings while working the second shift. Without having to be asked, an account was set up that night for each department so the Responders would not have to fumble through their gear for some cash.  They would stay open as long as the plate glass held out against the wind, and acted as a shelter for those of us in uniform that were on alert that night.  For those that could not make it out of their buildings, they delivered!  By night’s end we were told that they finally had to close because they ran out of food!  Not a single First Responder was charged more than five dollars the whole day.

The call came in around 2 A.M.  A car had been seen carried away by raging flood water, into a stream, with the two occupants still inside.  The roads were quickly becoming impassable even to emergency vehicles, but the crew responded none the less.  An out of work professional, a Mother of three, a Customer Service Vice President, and an off duty hotel employee all got in gear and raced to the last spot the vehicle was seen.  For 30 minutes, some of that time spent in thigh deep water, these folks flooded the stream bed with light as another group of volunteers tried to make their way to the bottom.  The vehicle occupants were ultimately found safe, but neither for this, nor the 20 other calls responded to that day were any of the above mentioned patriots paid a nickel.

In a town just west of mine, neighborhoods making up the majority of that little enclave were virtually wiped out, first from the unstoppable ground water, and then by the devastation that hits when an entire municipality’s sump pumps don’t work for days.  Not since a certain September, 10 years ago, have I seen so many people pull together to help their neighbors and friends.  A local Elks Club was secured as a staging site and the word went out…water, canned foods, toiletries, clothing, spare furniture, and cleaning supplies started pouring in.  A Facebook page was set up for communication and it became an instant hit.  Retailers got involved, and the next thing you know, all of people manning the emergency headquarters were enjoying as much pizza, soda, and coffee they could handle.  When I last checked in to the page, almost a dozen hair stylists donated their services for a day so that all of the kids affected by the tragedy would head off to school tomorrow with a fresh cut, and their heads held high.  The fellow that coordinated this probably gets my vote for Patriot of the year for it seems that no matter what time of the day or night one logs onto the help site, he is there to direct the victims, and offer a shoulder to lean on.

Having seen so much of the devastation Irene brought to our community first hand, I believe that it will be many weeks if not months before a large number of us are back to what we considered normal before the storm.  That said, there seems to be a certain rainbow that has followed the devastation in the genuine concern and compassion shown by those only somewhat affected, to those severely affected by last week’s unwelcome August guest.  With the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks only days away, perhaps it was meant to be that we all shared a reminder of what this country can look like when we all pull together as a family.  Hurricane Irene has in her aftermath changed some of us for the better.  Whether she has in fact changed us for good, is yet to be seen.  

Am Not...Are Too!

Earlier this week, President Obama went head to head with a Tea Party organizer named Ryan Rhodes.  Ryan, a leader of the Iowa chapter of that grass roots organization met up with The President as Mr. Obama was finishing an appearance at an open air town hall meeting.

Reminding the President of his call for more civility in American political discourse, Rhodes asked if Vice President Biden’s apparent branding of the Tea Party and its members as “terrorists”, met Mr. Obama’s own threshold of civility.  His question referred to media reports, initially sketchy, but just this week verified by “Politico” that Biden had made just such a remark in a private meeting with House of Representative Democrats during a meeting about the debt showdown earlier this month.

In responding to Rhodes, The President said “I absolutely agree that everybody needs to try to tone down the rhetoric”.  He then went on to say, “In fairness, since I have been called a socialist who wasn’t born in this country, who is destroying America and taking away its freedoms because I passed a health care bill, I am all for lowering the rhetoric”.

So if I’m reading this right, an average, American, perhaps a little more involved in the political process than most, exercising his right to free speech, asks The leader of his country if it was acceptable for his second in command to brand certain citizens “Terrorists” simply because they were more vocal than others in their disagreement with his policies; and The President of the United States essentially said… Well you call me names too!  Is this what we have come to?

On the same day that the Rhodes story made headlines, Albert Brown, a retired dentist from southern Illinois, quietly passed away in his nursing home.  Brown was 105 years of age.  What makes the loss of “Doc” Brown noteworthy was that he was the oldest survivor of the infamous Bataan Death March in which 78,000 American prisoners were driven like cattle, 65 miles through the scorching jungles of the Philippines without water, food, or medical care by their Japanese captors.  Nearly 11,000 died or were slaughtered along the way, and those that survived the trek, were forced to endure another three years of tortuous captivity.

Brown’s story has been marvelously chronicled by author Kevin Moore in “Forsaken Heroes of the Pacific War”, and has offered an encouraging road map for today’s Veterans recovering from their own wounds.  I mention the loss of Doctor Brown, and the day’s earlier loss of Colonel Charles Murray whose passing five days earlier left us only 84 living recipients of the Congressional Medal of Honor, in the hopes of shinning a light on just how far down the trail of trivialness we have traveled as a nation.

It was Tom Brokaw, the former NBC Anchorman and author that reminded us of that phrase, “The Greatest Generation”.  And while defending the freedom of this nation and winning back that same freedom for much of the planet was in itself a task worthy of the monocle, I believe it was that generations underlying character and moral base, forged in the furnace of the great depression, that gave our Parents and Grandparents the strength and perseverance required to reach the heights they did.

To better understand the generation that brought such pride to our nation, one only has to take a trip to Washington D.C.  There, in the shadows of Washington and Lincoln, one the eighteenth century Founding Father, and the other the nineteenth century preserver of our nation, stands the World War Two Memorial, a monument not only to those who fought on the battlefields, but to every home front hero and heroine that drove a rivet, polished a shell, or packed a parachute so that the cream of our youth could be sent halfway around the world in defense of our freedom.

While we today look back at those years with the verdict of history in our pockets, for many months, there was no foregone conclusion that we were to ultimately be victorious.  Just weeks before the attack at Pearl Harbor, the United States Army was actually ranked 17^th in the World! But as Author Walter Lord said, “They had no right to win, yet they did, and in doing so…even against the greatest of odds changed the course of history”.  He said of that generation, “…There is something in the human spirit, a magic blend of skill, faith, and valor that can lift men from certain defeat to incredible victory”.

Can the same be said of the alphabet soup of generations that make up the youth of our country today?  Have the “X’s” and the “Y’s” been so indoctrinated by the Rosanne Barr’s and the Rosie O’Donnell’s, that Rosie the Riveter is just one more example of the exploitation of women by a repressive male culture?

Have the antics of the late Ryan Dunn of “Jackass” fame, or Snooki and “The Situation” at the “Jersey Shore” truly become the role models of the generation, that if G-d forbid a global crisis would emerge, would be the ones called upon to step into the same shoes their Grandparents wore, 70 years ago this December.

As the war in Europe ended, and the guns in the Pacific fell silent, President Harry Truman said “Our debt to the heroic men and valiant women in the service of our country can never be repaid”.  Were he here today, I’d have to say Mr. President; this is one time you just didn’t get it right. 

If the generations that follow so historic a shift to freedom and liberty, don’t forever remember and thank those that made our very being possible, then we are lost for sure.  If we have fallen so low as to find news in a “who called who a name” argument between an average American and The President of the United States, then simply finding a solution to the debt crisis will not be enough to save this great land.

I still believe in Ronald Reagan’s vision of a nation, whose best days are yet before it, but only if those that live, work, protect, and defend that nation are worthy of its bounty.

Why the Long Face?

The other day I was tuned into one of the cable news channels (OK, Fox) and watched as poll data was shared, and after thinking about it, found it hard in a real world sense to understand. 

The poll alleged that 49 percent of Americans are unhappy with the direction the country is headed, and 51 percent of the country is unhappy with the performance of the President.  In essence, half of the citizenry just ain't happy and want a change.

So with a Right Brain and a Left Heart, I started thinking, ''What are we so unhappy about?''

Is it that we have electricity and running water 24 hours a day, 7 days a week?  Is our unhappiness the result of having air conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter?  Could it be that 91 percent of these unhappy folks have a job?  Maybe it is the ability to walk into a grocery store at any time, and see more food in moments than Darfur has seen in the last year?

Maybe it is the ability to drive from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean without having to present identification papers as we move through each state, or possibly the hundreds of clean and safe motels we would find along the way that can provide temporary shelter?

I guess having thousands of restaurants with varying cuisine from around the world is just not good enough.  Or could it be that when we wreck our car, emergency workers show up and Provide services to help, and even send a helicopter to take you to the hospital if needed.

Perhaps you are one of the 70 percent of Americans who own a home. You may be upset with knowing that in the unfortunate case of a fire, a group of trained firefighters will appear in moments and use top notch equipment to extinguish the flames thus saving you, your family and your belongings. Or if while at home, watching one of your many flat screen TVs, a burglar or prowler intrudes, an officer equipped with a gun and a bullet-proof vest will come to defend you and your family against attack or loss.

This all in the backdrop of a neighborhood free of bombs, or militias, raping or pillaging, and where 90 percent of teenagers own cell phones and computers. How about the complete religious, social and political freedoms we enjoy that are the envy of everyone in the world?  Maybe that is what has 49 percent of you folks unhappy.

Fact is, we are the largest group of ungrateful, spoiled brats the world has ever seen. No wonder the world loves the U.S., yet has such a great disdain for its citizens. They see us for what we are. The most blessed people in the world who do nothing but complain about what we don't have, and what we hate about the country instead of thanking the good L-rd we live here.

I know, I know. What about this President who couldn’t lead his way out of a paper bag with a flashlight and scissors? Or that the President has tried to shove everything from Socialist healthcare to same sex marriage down our throats whether we like it or not. Or the Congress, who on any given Sunday make Ali Baba and his band of thieves look like a bunch of amateurs.

Well when last I checked, no Congressmen was waiting at my door this morning, keeping me from going to work, and no U.S. Senator hid the keys to my car when I was out looking for work, I was by right as an American citizen, free to make every effort I had the strength for, to better my own lot.

So why then the flat-out discontentment in the minds of 49 percent of Americans?  Say what you want, but I blame it on the media. If it bleeds, it leads; and they specialize in bad news.  Everybody will watch a car crash on a “dash-cam”, but how many will watch kids selling lemonade at the corner? The media knows this, and media outlets are for-profit corporations. They offer what sells, and when criticized, try to defend their actions by 'justifying' them in one way or another. If you don’t believe me, let me suggest the following:

On May 24, 2011 Attorneys for Casey Anthony offered opening arguments in their successful bid to defend their Client before Judge Belvin Perry.  42 days later, a jury of her “peers” found Ms. Anthony not guilty of a crime that most in America believed she committed.  As tragic as that verdict was to many, what I find more damming of us as a people is that in those seven short weeks, 73 American service men and women lost their lives in the deserts of Afghanistan, and while the names of Casey, Caylee, and Jose Baez will linger through the year, I doubt if any of you could name just one of those fallen heroes.

Stop buying the negativism you are fed everyday by the media. Shut off the TV, burn Newsweek, and use the New York Times for the bottom of your bird cage.  Then start being grateful for all we have as a country. There is exponentially more good than bad.

Yes we will change the President.  Yes we will climb out of this slump.  Yes we will bring America back to a time when hard work, character, and patriotism was what made this country a success.  We will I pray, do it this time without the racism, segregation, bigotry, and anti-Semitism that so pervaded the underbelly of our Parents America, but we will do it.  We are Americans, and that’s just what we do!

We are among the most blessed people on Earth, and should thank G-d every day for being born in this, the greatest country ever.  Chin up and chest out America, we’ve done it before, and we can do it again!

It's starting to remind me of the old joke about two fellows who went into the roadside tomato business.  Every morning they would drive down to the farm and fill their pickup with tomato's at a dollar a pound, and every afternoon they would set up on the highway along where the city folk drove home to sell their tomato's for, you guessed it, a dollar a pound!

Every evening they sold out their stock, and impressed with the success they were having, did it again every day for a week.  By Friday , all they had to show for their efforts was a couple of dirty t-shirts, sore backs, and empty tank of gas in the truck.

"What are we doing wrong" said the first rocket scientist to the other?  "we've worked our cans off all week and haven't got ten cents to show for it"!  After some long hard thinking the answer came to them like a bolt from the blue. " We need a bigger truck"!

This old joke from my Dad would still bring a chuckle to my face were it's implications and logic not so eerily familiar in our Washington body politic today. 

To suggest that the Tea Party has somehow brought us to the brink of this political and financial black hole in just the 7 months they've held a key to the congressional bathroom, is a little like suggesting that the coming of the British was all Paul Revere's fault simply because he got on his horse.  No.  The fix we are in has everything to do with politicians, Republican and Democrat alike, thinking that stepping on the spending accelerator till the pedal went to the floor board would through some Einstein like time warp, bring us back to the beginning of this great Chutes and Ladders board game they call Government.

On some level (power), I can understand nearly a hundred Senators and 400+ Congressmen ( I have excluded the few lone wolves in the pack) remaining completely blind to the mood of the nation, yet the facts and depth of the problem we are in has to strike them like a pair of cardiac paddles in an emergency room, it is apparent however that their ideology will drag them, along with the rest of us, right over the recovery cliff.

What's truly amazing, is that with all the bickering, fighting, name calling, and juvenile delinquency being demonstrated by our elected federal officials, all little Johnny President had to do was step up to the plate, and bunt the ball to third to be the winner in this debate.  

Some say he is still too self absorbed, others, that he is prevented by his constituency from acting, but if you ask me, the man frankly looks defeated and that's why with no one playing the field, and the ball on a tee in front of him, he struck out! 

My friends, whether you recognize it or not, the paralysis at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue represents more than just an extension of our fiscal crises, but one of overall leadership that given the mood of the country, and the apparent abdication of Presidential guts, could bring to these shores more pressing matters than just overwhelming debt.

I'll share more with you in a few days, but for now; for those of you who forgot or were just too young to remember, the video below should give you just a small taste of what true leadership in a crisis used to look like before it became politically incorrect to love this country.

Marty Mabe

The Wizards of Washington

This year, the Wizard of Oz turns 70 years young. I am convinced however that if today, Dorothy were to encounter men with no brains, no hearts, and no balls, she wouldn’t be in Oz…She would be in Congress!

After having months, and then weeks, and then days to accomplished their task of in some small way, bringing sanity to the Country’s fiscal house, they took the game into overtime, and then punted for a very short lived and rather ugly win. As evidenced in the 500 plus point sell off in equities, followed by the smack in the teeth that was the Standard and Poor’s downgrade, nobody with half a brain was buying their last minute fix.

What’s truly amazing in all of this, is that were you to take a poll of every member of Congress, with few exceptions, you would find virtually all of them preaching to you about how much they want this fiscal nightmare to be resolved. In echoing a fellow blogger Charlie Reese from Florida I agree; Politicians are the only people in the World who can create a problem…and then campaign against it!

If both the Democrats and the Republicans are against deficits, why do we have deficits? If all the politicians are against inflation and high taxes, why do we have inflation and high taxes? The Republicans Blame the Democrats, the Democrats blame big business, big business blame s the cost of entitlements and regulation, and everyone blames the administration for the programs and social welfare that are choking the working class. It’s a good thing we have over the years relaxed our public indecency laws or some folks would be in a lot of trouble right now for publicly and royally screwing 300 million people!

For anyone who has graduated from even a mid-sized high school, attended a Broadway play, danced at a large family wedding, or traveled to the beach on a holiday weekend, 535 people all in one place is not necessarily a sight to take your breath away, yet it is exactly 535 living breathing people that hold the fate of over 300 million in their hands every day.

Those people are; one hundred Senators, 435 Congressmen, one President, and nine Supreme Court Justices. You and I don't propose a federal budget. The President does. You and I don't have the Constitutional authority to vote on appropriations, the House of Representatives does that. You and I don't write the tax code, and we sure don't set fiscal policy. Every one of the responsibilities I have just outlined is held tightly in the hands of the 535 Americans I have listed above.

In August of the year 480 B.C. (approx) the Battle of Thermopylae pitted nearly 300,000 Persians against a mere 300 Spartan warriors. Nearly 20,000 Persians died before they were able to subdue the small Greek force. Believe me when I tell you that those three hundred couldn’t hold a candle to the grit and determination our current political class has when it comes to holding on to their power and fiefdoms.

Ultimately, it is we the people who have the power every now and then to shake the cage and pull the rug out from some of the more egregiously incompetent of the lot. We did it in 2010 when 60 incumbents got the boot from the House, 10 new fiscal Conservatives, including one Democrat, took their seats in Governorships, and the Senate nearly tipped to the Republican Party.

It seems inconceivable to me that a nation of 300 million cannot replace 545 people who stand convicted, if only by present facts, of incompetence and irresponsibility. I can't think of a single domestic problem that is not traceable directly to those 545 people. When you fully grasp the plain truth that 545 people exercise the power of the federal government, then it must follow that what exists, is what they want to exist. If the tax code is unfair, it's because they want it unfair. If the budget is in the red, it's because they want it in the red. And if there is an underclass in this Country that decade after decade still struggles to break free of the bonds of government handouts and social support, it’s because those same 545 privileged people of power want them right where they are.

I share a friendship with a very successful Wall Street financial advisor who also happens to be a congregational Christian Minister. As a practicing Jew and a Lay Leader in my own community, she was instrumental in bringing me back to “The Book” during a difficult time a few years ago. Despite that, she and I are about as politically compatible as pastrami would be on white bread, with butter and a tomato! I share this because I believe that even she would agree that a working pole with some line and bait beats a fish in the hand any day.

If those 545 self absorbed Ambassadors of failure would truly care about those they were elected to serve, the issues facing us today would be solved quickly, and with less pain than all of us choose to realize, but bear this in mind;

It is The Constitution, the supreme law of the land, which gives the responsibility to the American people for choosing those that lead and represent them in this, our republican (small “r”) form of government. If those 545 people are to be held responsible for the power we have entrusted them with, they must be reminded and held accountable by the people, who are their bosses, every chance we get.

If you are an active participant in our political process, good for you. If you are not, or worse, don’t even take the time to vote (nearly 50% of registered voters sit home every November), than in plain English, shut up! Sitting home and leaning to the right side of the couch while you watch FOX News does not entitle you to complain, and reading the New York Times while sipping your tea with your left hand does not make you a sensible Liberal. Like it or not, Veteran’s for the better part of the last 235 years have fought and died for the right you have to complain today, and I might add in deference to that great generation, to complain in English as opposed to Japanese, German, or Russian!

Write to your local representatives, attend a Town Council meeting, join a political social club, or better yet, actually participate in an election. We are where we are because we all fell asleep. WAKE UP AMERICA!


Martin Mabe

Tell Them While They Are Here

Too Busy for a Friend? 

One day, a teacher asked her students to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name.  She then told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. It took the remainder of the class period to finish their assignment, and as the students left the room, each one handed in the papers.

That Saturday, the teacher wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper, and listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday, she gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. 'Really?' she heard whispered. “I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!” and, “I didn't know others liked me so much”, were most of the comments. No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. She never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn't matter. The exercise had accomplished its purpose. The students were happy with themselves and one another.

That group of students moved on. Several years later, one of the students was killed in Vietnam and his teacher attended the funeral of that special student. She had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. He looked so handsome, so mature. The church was packed with his friends. One by one those who loved him took a last walk by the coffin. The teacher was the last one in line. As she stood there, one of the soldiers who acted as pallbearer came up to her. Were you Mark's math teacher?' he asked. She nodded yes. Then he said “Mark talked about you a lot”. 

After the funeral, most of Mark's former classmates went together to a luncheon.  Mark's Mother and Father were there, waiting to speak with his teacher. We want to show you something his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket.  They found this on Mark when he was killed; we thought you might recognize it.  Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had obviously been taped, folded and refolded many times.

The teacher knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which she had listed all the good things each of Mark's classmates had said about him. Thank you so much for doing that, Mark's mother said.  As you can see, Mark treasured it.  All of Mark's former classmates started to gather around. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list. It's in the top drawer of my desk at home”.  Chuck's wife said, “Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album”.  “I have mine too,” Marilyn said. “It's in my diary” Then Vicki, another classmate, reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” Vicki said and without batting an eyelash, I think we all saved our lists.

 That's when the teacher finally sat down and cried. She cried for Mark and for all his friends who would never see him again.

I learned today that an old friend from High School passed away.  Her name was Charisse, and if you ask me, it was way too soon.  As with many of my friends of old, I had lost touch with Charrise many years ago.  Careers, (four of them); and families, (two of them) found their way between what is now, and what was then.  But long before I was that guy from Manalapan with kids, two cars, and a house…I was that kid from Staten Island who drove a ’78 Firebird, cruised Hylan Blvd., and raced over the bridge to hit White Castle in Brooklyn before they closed.   

Today’s news brought many things.  535 elected adolescents in suits finally agreed to bankrupt us a little more slowly than last year.  A handful of other adolescents in shoulder pads agreed to take an average about $200,000 per week to entertain us through the season, and global warming turns out to be not as hot as anyone thought it was going to be (really?).  But losing one more memory of a World that given the other news of the day, my children will never be able to duplicate, was probably my one true sad thought of the weekend.  Think of it as that little note in the pocket that you can only appreciate if you had been there.