The Newell Post

I wrote the following for Thanksgiving 2019. Reading it again made me laugh and cry just thinking about what a simple time it was just one year ago.

Well, here we are again soon to be assembled round a turkey with all the fixins.

I am assuming this will be my seventieth Thanksgiving celebration, but I am guessing that not too much turkey was consumed in my earlier commemorations. Commenting that I soon made up for that is not a kind thought to have as we enter the holiday season.

I had a bit more turkey angst this morning than I have had in some time, or ever had. My wife, Eileen, called our local Publix supermarket to order a fresh-killed turkey. She made this call this past Friday and was advised to have it picked up on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving.

This in itself was reason enough for me to break out into a cold sweat if such a thing can actually occur in Florida. I mean, waiting until the day before Thanksgiving to get your turkey was something our parents would never have permitted. So, this morning, I called the supermarket to see if our turkey was available for pickup.

After waiting a few minutes, I was advised that no such turkey was being held in our name. Okay, not to worry as we had several Publix in our immediate area, so I made some calls.

Each call added to my sense of dread.

No fresh turkey in my name. A frozen turkey would not do as there is no way it would thaw in time for Thursday’s dinner. I began to ponder a Chinese food dinner. Chicken Chow Mein? Well, it did have poultry in it. General Tsao’s Chicken? Again, poultry but not really something the Pilgrims would have had feasted on.

Frantically, I set out on a mission to find a turkey fit to be roasted on Thanksgiving Day.

I need not have worried as they were in abundant supply…at Publix.

I guess I should have asked if they had any available when I was told I had none on reserve. But of course, Publix could have informed me of that fact too, but I have a turkey, and that’s all that matters.

It wasn’t so much worrying about having to face Thanksgiving turkeyless, it was what the turkey always represents in my mind.

The turkey was always cooked by my mother, carved by my father, and devoured by my siblings and in-laws.

Somehow eating turkey on Thanksgiving and Christmas is like having it with my family. It has always been like that and will remain so. It is even like that with our children and other relatives who will be having their own meal in distant locations. Yet, no matter how far geographically apart we may be, we will be together.

It’s just that it would be so nice if for only one day to have everyone that we will be missing sitting alongside us as we pile on the yams and the stuffing and drizzle gravy over the turkey.

So, here is to all our dear friends and family, Happy Thanksgiving!

The Christmas Season has begun in earnest. We went to the mall today, and, despite the temperature, a distinct hint of Christmas was in the air.

There were stacks of firewood ready for you to put in your fireplace, presuming they didn’t spontaneously combust before you got to the checkout counter. There were Santas and Rudolphs and a myriad of wintry scenes to display on your living room wall or poolside in your lanai.

Candles of every size and scent were also ripe for the picking, as were Florida’s finest hot chocolates.

To northerners, Christmas shopping in Florida while the temperature has cooled down to 77 may at first seem a little strange but, you soon realize that Floridians love their Christmas season as much as any New England town or village.

Lights galore are strewn on the palm trees. And, while Black Friday is still two weeks away, shoppers were everywhere to be seen, and the only thing getting hot were debit and credit cards and salespeople stuffing stocking stuffers into the bags of Saturday morning shoppers.

I don’t recall hearing Christmas music being piped in, but maybe I was too overwhelmed with the sights and smells of another Christmas season in the Sunshine State.

It is only November 9th, but the early signs indicate that shoppers will continue to shop and stores both the brick and mortar variety and on-line will have a happy season. While our temperatures may face a downturn, it appears that shoppers intend to ward off any potential downturn of the economy.

In 1890, Jacob Riis published “How The Other Half Lives: How It Lives And Dies In New York”. The book documented with pictures and accounts of the poor in New York City. In 1962 Michael Harrington published “The Other America” and documented poverty in America and was said to be highly regarded by President John Kennedy and may have directly affected President Lyndon Johnson’s War On Poverty.

In both examples, the plight of the poor was brought to the attention of an America busy with emerging, an America becoming a world industrial leader and a military power.

It is the concept of “The Other” that intrigues me.

Whether The Other is people of other cultures, other nations, other religions, or closer to home, other political viewpoints, it would be wise to consider The Other.

I am a Democrat and voted for Hillary Clinton.

Like most Democrats, there were things I disagreed with Candidate Clinton and even one or two things I agreed with President Trump. The trouble is that at no time during the election process or since have I considered how other people thought about the candidates.

I know most of the reasons why Democrats favored Clinton over Trump, and I think I know why some Trump supporters voted for Trump. But I think it is too convenient to state that many voted for Trump because they didn’t like Hillary.

It’s also too easy to believe that people who voted for Trump are “Deplorable” or racists or Russian sympathizers.

We all know about pendulums and how they react to energy. If too much energy is applied in one direction, the natural reaction is to swing back, almost as forcefully in the other direction.

Democrats are seen as the Party of the partial-birth abortion, gay marriage, and rights for the LBGTQ community. You may agree with some of these positions or none.

Add Affirmative Action and Immigration Rights, and you further divide people.

But why?

One of the things that I have seen several times infuriates me and illuminates me at the same time. There is a Democratic operative who has appeared on MSNBC several times, and I always change the channel when he is on. I will not grant him the notoriety of my disdain by naming him.

He made a commercial, I would hardly call it a public service announcement, in which he proudly affirms that he is an atheist and he does so by denigrating all people of faith.

Another indication that Democrats are stupid and intent on losing the 2020 election.

You may disagree with the evangelicals who support Trump despite the porn star and countless examples of misogyny as well as his anti-Christian comments regarding immigrants. But do so by pointing towards their hypocrisy, not their belief in God.

We know why evangelicals support Trump. They are a one-issue group. Protect the unborn, and they will vote for you. Appoint conservative justices who are likely to repeal Roe v. Wade, and they will forgive all other transgressions.

Then you attack not only the Evangelicals but all those of us who believe in God, and you want my vote? Not a good strategy.

You cannot be a party of inclusion only for atheists.  Believers are members of the immigrant, Gay, and LBGTQ communities. Believers are not all Republicans.

As our atheist spokesman proclaims at the end of his commercial that he will not burn in hell, he might also add that he will not see the inside of the White House either.

I went to a Spring Training game two years ago and sat at a table with a Red Sox fan. We had a nice talk despite our different passions. We were, in fact, able to reach some common ground as, despite living in a suburb of Boston, my new friend was, like me, a fan of the New York Jets.

Common ground should be something we consider, especially when our differences run hot.

I can see why Republicans are scared. Our country is changing. Its population is expanding beyond anything we imagined thirty years ago. Many newcomers come from different countries and cultures than the previous waves of immigrants. If we had any historical knowledge to draw on, we would be comforted that the same concerns many have today were held by Americans when our ancestors stepped off the boat.

Whether from Ireland, Italy, Eastern Europe, or the Far East, Americans of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries were afraid of these new immigrants. Ironically, these new immigrants defended America and The Constitution by fighting in both World Wars.

Then you had the sons and daughters of former slaves fighting for their civil rights, and many thought America was coming to an end, but that didn’t happen.

Yet, there are those stuck in moments that seem incapable of being put to rest.

Racism, antisemitism, cultural bias continue to haunt us, but why?

Is it the color of people? Is it the way they worship God? Is it the holidays they celebrate? What is it that people don’t like about the new groups coming to our country and how can we help them get over it?

I used a sports analogy to illustrate the seeming idiocy of being anti-whatever. But there have been extreme examples of violence because a fan dared to wear another teams’s colors to a game. People have been killed for having the audacity to wear the wrong jersey.

It’s not enough to root for your team, you have to hate The Other.

If the Trump administration has done anything, it has illustrated that the political tribalism that has existed since George H Bush was President will destroy America.

E Pluribus Unum used to mean something. Our national motto used to illustrate our strength. Now it may well be our demise.

We need to talk to The Other.

They need to know that we are very much like them and they are very much like us,

Just ask them.

I was in a big box store on September 26th. I took a picture of Christmas trees and other decorations memorializing the beginning of the Christmas Season…a few weeks after Labor Day.

I was still wearing white.

Nevertheless, the early arrival of Santa and his elves does not upset me. I, like most of you, look forward to Christmas with the enthusiasm of a little kid as if I were expecting my first set of trains.

I read recently that this year, we were going to have the shortest Christmas Season, and I wondered if last year it had started before Labor Day. But what was pointed out is that Thanksgiving this year is on November 28th, thereby making the Christmas Season less than one month.

I suppose what was really mean is that we have the shortest Christmas shopping season as Black Friday is November 29th and, of course, the last day of the Christmas shopping season is December 24th.

But for me, the Christmas Season does begin on Thanksgiving and ends on January 6th, what Catholics used to call the Epiphany. It was also the day that the Magi came to see the Baby Jesus and is the Twelfth Day of Christmas made famous in that annoying song.

For SiriusXM, the Christmas season began on November 1st when they began broadcasting in earnest various Christmas themed stations. Although to be fair, they actually began with the Hallmark Christmas channel before this date to coincide with the TV channel’s Countdown to Christmas promotion.

Some don’t like the early arrival of Christmas music. I am not sure why. I like the music and have several favorites and look forward to listening to it every year. By the time New Years comes around, I can admit that I might be ready to go back to my regular music, but I still hold on and continue in good faith to Have a Holly Jolly Christmas to the bitter end of January 6th.

But, my official date for getting into the Christmas frame of mind sill is Thanksgiving. I begin with the ritual listening to the Nutcracker, which remains on while we watch Laurel and Hardy in Babes In Toyland.

I would typically end this with a Merry Christmas, but it really is too early for that.

AI is supposed to scare us. Recall HAL in 2001 A Space Odyssey. A supercomputer takes over a space ship and kills the crew. We don’t need HAL for that we have Facebook and Twitter.

Teenagers get bullied on Facebook to the extreme where thoughts of suicide replace the few Likes they may have received.

Haters spew hateful tweets on Twitter and through it all, you don’t know if what you are reading is real.

Talk about social media.

Nothing at all social about it.

In my career in education, I have had the misfortune to be involved in three separate implementations of automated student information systems.

The first took us two years before it was running nearly as well as the “archaic” system it replaced. Then we were told we had to upgrade the system.

The tech rep told us that the upgrade from version 13, which we finally had running, was no big deal as version 17 was basically 13 without the bugs! She actually said that. I replied that I don’t remember you telling us that when we were tearing our hair out implementing 13.

Subsequent implementations were equally as challenging. For the second implementation at another school, the tech rep said that the rollout of the Admissions module was the best they had ever seen. I suppose in the other schools not getting out offers of admissions for two weeks would have seemed grand.

I remember thinking at these times that we would consider this the Dark Age Of Information Technology.

These were the days before Facebook and Twitter.

Like many computer systems, there are bugs in Facebook and Twitter. There are human bugs. The technology is fine but it is the users that we have to fear.

Remember GIGO?

Garbage In Garbage Out.

An admonition to programmers to get their code right. Also, useful guidance to anyone responsible for entering data into a computer system.

Facebook and Twitter users should be so advised.

I have gotten to the point that I hardly visit Facebook and I have been off Twitter for a week or more. This post may appear on both but that is because it is set automatically to do so.

When posts and tweets are no more reliable or even as entertaining as spam emails, what’s the point in checking in every five minutes?

It’s a shame that Facebook and Twitter fell victim to trolls and spies and just plain nasty people.

Now, I am perfectly aware that some might find this post offensive and disagreeable. As in the case of offensive TV, please feel free to change the channel and, like me, block anyone you no longer wish to view on your page.

That’s probably the most empowering feature of modern technology.

The Joy Of Pulling The Plug.

I have been banned on Twitter. I am not really sure of my offense or who I offended. Perhaps it’s a Trumper Troll? When I last tried to Tweet I was advised by Twitter that I had offended someone. Apparently, the offending Tweet was a response to an NYT article to which I asked something intimating that Trump will throw “him” under the bus.

I honestly don’t remember what I was referring to except something to do with Trump and his inability to remember who his friends are.

Anyway, I am off Twitter.

Except, of course, I am not.

One of my first Twitter accounts was @BroadwayJimmy, in deference to one of my heroes, Broadway Joe. My daughter was concerned I was coming out given the reference to Broadway and well, you get the idea…not that there’s​ anything wrong with it.

So, I am guessing this post will be appearing on that Twitter account.

It will, undoubtedly, be appearing on one of my Facebook accounts, most likely Married With Cancer, as I rarely go on Facebook anymore. So sick of Zuck and the whole Russian thing, not to mention the morons who post all the bullshit that isn’t fit to print.

Sorry, what used to be fun to check every day​ is now a despicable site for people I no longer wish to see ​post.

So, as I have written in the past, social media has truly become Anti-Social Media.

Anyway, I will continue to blog if only for myself.

​I started watching season 1 of The Adventures of Superman. It’s kind of my Rite of Fall, along with getting my train layout organized for the new season.

Episode one of Superman opens with Jorel meeting with the high council to warn them of Krypton’s impending doom. I guess you can say he was a climatologist. Jorel warned that Krypton was going to explode like a giant bubble.

Of course, the high council, Kryptonian Congress, laughed and jeered, and in Jorel’s own words, “…marked me for a fool.”

Of course, we knew what Jorel knew, and a bit more as the episode progresses.

When Jorel gets home, he gets busy in his laboratory and is greeted by his wife. She complains that it has been oppressively hot and asks,

“Is that because Krypton is getting closer to the sun?”

Ok, so now we know that Kalel gets his brains from Jorel.

Then, Krypton shakes rattles and rolls, and Jorel laments that he didn’t build a bigger space ship so that they could all go to Earth.

Rather than try to get into the rocket with her baby, Lara says that she’d rather stay and die with Jorel in lieu of living on Earth with Kalel. Again, she reinforces the notion that Kalel gets his smarts from Jorel.

The rocket lifts off, and in a matter of a minute or so, it crashes into Smallville, where Ma an Pa Kent are driving along. The rocket is on fire, and Pa Kent rescues the crying baby.

After a brief discussion, they decide not to tell anyone what they witnessed and decided to raise Kalel as their own. Of course, they didn’t know his Kryptonian name, so they named him Clark.

Clark Kent had a better ring to it than Kalel.

We are led to believe that no formal notification of public services or application for adoption was ever made.

We can only assume that Clark had a Social Security Number as he was able to get a job at the Daily Planet. But there are several outstanding questions that need to be asked.

Did Clark Kent ever vote?

Did he have a birth certificate​?

Did he have a passport? (We think he did because in later episodes he would visit London and Paris.)

Nevertheless, for all intents and purposes, we can assume Clark Kent never enrolled as a Registered Alien; never got a Green Card; and was, in fact, an undocumented​ immigrant.

In summary, Jorel warned about global warming on Krypton, and Kalel was an illegal immigrant.

Yet, Superman turns out to be the champion of fighting for truth, justice, and the American way.

It makes you think, doesn’t it?

Writing on steroids may be a mistake. Even this first sentence presented an inopportune misadventure. I actually typed “Writing on hemorrhoids may be a mistake. Surely if the former poses a danger, the latter definitely will. (The reason I am “on steroids” is because I had my IVIG treatment and it is a pre-med to prevent an adverse reaction. I can now hit a 95 MPH fastball but let’s see if I can write.)

For good or ill I am in the mood to write about missing.

Missing you? Missing moments? Missing evening light this time of year? Whatever it is that we sometimes miss we all can relate to the mood of missing.

I have been cursed with the mood of missing for quite a while.

The funny thing is that when I possessed the missing, whether it be an object or a person in my life, I never failed to take it or them for granted as if they would always be there when I desired them.

Mickey Mantle for instance.

Growing up in The Bronx in the ’50s and ’60s I, like many of my friends, adored Mickey Mantle. I often went to see him play, but not quite enough as I came to realize when he was no longer playing. I missed those days and the lost opportunities to see my hero. When I had children of my own, I vowed that I would get them to see their heroes as often as I could. But, they still miss their heroes who are gone.

Missing people who played such a significant part of our lives is healthy and is the final act of love that we bestow on them. When parents die, worse, when siblings die, the mood of missing never leaves you. But, the good news is they frequently come to visit in our memories, and we can almost see them and hear their laughter.

Missing inanimate objects such as one’s house is a little harder to explain. I miss living in our house in East Quogue. I loved my house. I loved building fires in our fireplaces. I loved going down to our finished basement to watch Yankee games and Ranger games. Even watching Jet games was enjoyable but far less satisfying.

But as much as I loved my house, it had nothing to do with the house. It had everything to do with the life we shared in that house. Mowing the lawns, watering the grass so that you had to mow the lawns again next week. The neighbors we had and the memories we shared. Christmas parties, birthday parties, simple Saturday afternoons preparing dinner.

It’s really not the house, it’s the home.

I am missing that.

The trouble is if I could, like Dorothy, don a pair of ruby slippers and click my heels and be whisked back to 10 Halsey, I would be missing my life here in Florida.

That is my curse.

At my lowest moments when I am missing my children and the life we had in East Quogue, I know in my heart of hearts that I would be writing this essay about missing Florida. It’s just the way I am.

I am afflicted with missing.

Of course, the only people I have shared this diagnosis of my temperament are Eileen and my children.

I really don’t think it’s a bad thing to miss the good things in your life so long as you’re able to recognize that you are still blessed with a good life.

We have loving friends and family in our southern retreat and no longer have to face the winter blahs. So, despite the fact that the steroids may be affecting my emotions as I type this I really do appreciate all that I have, and I am convinced that Eileen and I did the best thing for us at this time in our lives.

I think missing is more affirming than a sign of melancholy. Missing is an acknowledgment that you were blessed with good people who love you and had so many good memories that you shared.

The fact that Eileen and I can continue to enjoy a life together is miraculous and a constant reminder that I have much more in my life than what I am missing.

Sorry if this is just jibberish to you but let me just add that missing isn’t a bad thing as long as you’re able to move beyond it.

When I commuted on the Long Island Rail Road from Penn to Speonk on the 5:51 evening train, summer did not last as long as the calendar said it did. Getting off my train at 7:55 PM, the darkness began to greet me even in the second week of August.

It never failed to usher in a feeling of remorse, of loss.

Another summer was coming to an end and, with it, long days and warm weather with weekends spent on Ponquogue Beach.

The funny thing is that the best time of year to be living in the Hamptons was in the weeks after Labor Day. The crowds had thinned out, the train was less crowded, and the weather was still beautiful.

Even weeks after we stood and applauded the lifeguards on Labor Day in gratitude for their diligent and vigilant service to Southampton Town beachgoers, the beaches were beautiful, and the water was still warm. But the absence of the lifeguards only emphasized the dying of the summer and the arrival of autumn.

Still, autumn weather was much appreciated after a season of heat and humidity, and there were festivals and farmers markets not to mention the department stores reminding us that Christmas was only ninety days away.

Now, as I living in Florida, the end of summer is not so keenly experienced. It is getting darker earlier. It is also getting lighter later. But warm temperatures still persist and a day when the temperature only reaches the 80’s may inspire you to get sweatshirts and jeans ready for the cold days sure to come.

Fortunately, the cold days may start with temperatures in the 40s but rarely fail to reach the high 50s or 60’s. Still, it is cool enough to bring out the pumpkin ale.

Still, the sense of loss persists. A different type of loss but poignant nonetheless.

I should be calling my wood guy to get a cord of wood for the winter, and you could be sure that the first chilly weekend we had a fire would be started and enjoyed with one of those pumpkin ales.

No need to do so when you don’t have or need a fireplace.

But I’ll be wearing jeans and socks and even a sweatshirt before you know it.

There are only a few iconic historical events that an individual witnesses in a lifetime.  There were those who remember what they were doing and where they were on the Sunday of December 7, 1941. Many of these people have passed away.

For boomers like myself, the date that defined our generation was November 22, 1963. I was in my eighth-grade classroom taking part in a group discussion when Sister Irene Mary, the Principal of Blessed Sacrament School in the Bronx announced on the PA system that President Kennedy had been shot and that he died.

You don’t want to have too many of these memorable events take place in your life as they are usually of the catastrophic type.

Today, we remember one such event that all of us know exactly where we were and whom we were with when we heard that terrorists flew jetliner into the World Trade Center.

It’s hard to fathom that it has been eighteen years since we all witnessed the collapse of the towers. Even in today’s America where history, even our own history is rarely appreciated, we will take time to remember the past. It might be nice to forget our partisan disdain for each other on a day when hatred failed to conquer us.

Fanaticism of any variety is never a good thing. Whether the fanatic is an ISIS supporter or a neo-nazi, an intolerant religious zealot or an intolerant atheist for that matter.

Fanatics deny the value of anyone or any group that does not share their beliefs.

That is how men could learn how to fly a plane for the sole purpose of crashing into a skyscraper killing everyone on the plane, including themselves as well as the thousands working in the skyscraper.

Maybe we should keep that in mind when we talk about those on the other side of our political persuasion? Maybe Fox News and MSNBC should keep that in mind, too?

Just today. Let’s just try to remember that today.