Capricorn Rite: The Blog of Raymond D. Franke

Purple Cabbage?!!

2008-03-20T08:18:00.000-07:00

It was late afternoon at the Philadelphia International Airport.

I hadn't been there since I was eleven or twelve, and I didn't remember it bright

with mid-winter sunshine.After enjoying life steeped in the luxury of home,for

what seemed ever longer than fifteen days;Here I was in full dress winter uniform,

Great Coat and all...

More than a year had been excreted from my life's tube, and

my parents seemed more ancient than I recalled.My father demonstrated the most

wizened appearance of the pair, but he remained strong for a man of 68.

When I gave him a real Christmas present for the first time in my life,I was

chagrined to learn that he had quit smoking.The present was a Ronson, Silver,

Butane Lighter, and I liked it a lot!

His thirty years in the ship yards, breathing fumes and asbestos,

had all but destroyed his lungs. So quiting smoking went a long way towards getting

him close on to 95 years of age before he finally stopped breathing...

The extraordinary adventure of her life lined my mothers face.

At first glance,one could surmise mid seventies,albeit she had not reached 62 yet.

However she was still determined in her movements and obviously clear of mind.

While on leave I was embarrassed to find out that though I had

signed out before my thousand mile drive home, I had failed to pick up my Air Line

tickets. Well suffice it to say, my very resourceful mother came through for her

little Raymond once again.

I've come to believe your not gone until your forgotten.I'll never

forget the great parents I was entrusted with...

Mom,my brothers Fred and Bob,and maybe Anne Franke had come to the Air Port

to see me off on the next big step in the saga of Raymond...

At that time,I think the last time someone from our family had been out

of the country was when my brother Tommy fought in the Korean War...But then my

sister Peggy had been over in England,when Queen Elizabeth was crowned...What

year was that? Also,she traveled by ship,I guess that counts?

So,we had to kill a couple of hours before take off and we had

gotten situated in the ground level gait area.When boarding time came it would be

only about a hundred foot walk up to the rolling steps that would get me on board.

As you know change is stressful,and big changes are very stressful...

I was about to embark on a trip into the totally unknown.Even though I had been

decorated for valor, I was not feeling at all brave.I had a premonition of impending

doom...My worst fears revolved around being without familiarity of circumstance,

both social and physical.I felt like I was about to dive into a deep dark well.

The dark spell of mood was broken then by some of the happiest laughter

I had heard in ages!The guffaws and chortles were emanating from two gleeful

brothers.Wondering what could be tickling them to such merriment,I slid over to the

refreshment machine alcove.There they were. Each brother was pumping Quarters into

what I came to know were Air Travel Insurance machines.Their hysteria was all about

how they would be such Big Millionaires, if in fact a tragedy occurs...Actually I

had not thought of that,and they could after all mourn so much more comfortably?

Finally on board, I marveled how a little plane like this could make

it all the way to Italy? Then we landed in New York.My ears adjusted fairly well.

As a matter of fact my right ear had nearly normal hearing. So I was able to get

the needed instructions as to how to change planes from the peppy Stewardess.

There was not much more time than needed,to buy some cigarettes and candy before my

big,four engine jet was open for business.

As the seating was ad lib,I picked a window seat just in back of the left

wing.I had always wondered if you could see flames coming out of a jet engine at

night? So here was my chance.The evening meal ,served by the stewardess with the very

young mother affect,was pretty good and it was certainly interesting...

Hours over the Atlantic,looking out of my small window I could see moon lit

cloud cover far below the wing,but no flames...After too many butts,and reading the

"Emergency Instructions" three times, I put my seat in the way back position.With the

seat back, I found that the foot rest came up considerably.Sleep claimed about three

hours of my young life,and then I was wide awake and very bored.It began to seem like

those dark jet engines would drone on into eternity.

I began to imagine that if I

could just stomp my feet on the floor,the plane would begin to descend out of the

world of boredom that had become my residence.A glint of dawn on the far horizon

saved me from the impending insanity,and I was glad too that I would not be offending

the nice stewardess after all...

Ireland really is green! Amazed is a good word

for how I felt as the plane sank through the early morning clouds over Shannon

Air Port.At the foot of each wave of golden yellow sunshine breaking through the

overcast,were glimpses of a sea of tall green grass.

At that time The Shannon Airport was completely lacking in

modern buildings,and I kept thinking it's all wood? But at least I was back on the

ground for what turned out to be at least ten hours...

In the winter time it gets dark earlier in Paris,than it does in

Philadelphia.So when we started down over Orleans,I couldn't see much.However I

began to suffer a great deal of pain in my left ear, due to our swift decent...

I really did not want to be embarrassed by my own scream, but I was horrified at

the certain knowledge that I was on the verge!As luck would have it I had to

swallow and with that the ice pick was pulled out of my ear.

Orleans was more modern and even down right glamorous than even The

New York Air Port had been.I was able to buy some picture post cards with American

money with no problem, in one of the air port shops.And in no time time I had

addressed two or three of them to Mom.I stepped out side on to an elevated deck to

breath some fresh French air,while I smoked another cigarette.A pretty stewardess

of about my own age asked me for a lite.Apparently,I had not seen her on the last

Jet but she had seen me and wondered where I was off to? She assured me that I

would just " fall in love with Italy ". I was falling in love already...

In pulling out my Zippo, I had gotten the Post Cards out too.When I sheepishly

explained to Sarah that I didn't know when I would be able to post them

she said she would be happy to mail them for me... With that she became another

hazy memory.

The Air Force had been kind enough to provide a voucher for dinner.

And as I had nothing else to do to pass the time, I thought here's the Restaurant

I may as well eat.The place was sparsely attended,and so I picked a table for two

to share with myself.Believe it or not, my tall French waiter was dressed in some

kind of black and white monkey suit,with a bow tie? The menu was somewhat

fortified with English, and something that sounded like ham and whatever

seemed like a good choice so I pointed at that...

When slim returned to see what sort of gratuity his

foreign military guest would be leaving,it hurt me to see the sad anguish

racing all over his face...

He could not comprehend my not eating purple cabbage.

A walk in the snow...

2008-02-26T10:02:00.000-08:00

Sometimes my memory is like a view along a country road,that is enjoying a quiet evening snowfall.I think I can see what I left down there in the valley,so very long ago, but the images are fading more as each moment is spent.

I think my eleventh birthday was hardly past, so my level of awareness of responsibility was not strong. What was strong was my desire for adventurous excursions,as I had begun to read about in The Glenside Free Library.

Just last summer, Blake an older boy(maybe twelve)in the neighborhood, had shown Michael Dooley,Allen Wade,and myself how to walk along a hardly used rail line to get to "Allen's Pond".

That may have been the summer of 1950, or around there...It's cloudy. But no matter,Allen's Pond was a boy's wonderland!The area consisted of about one hundred acres of a naturalists dream scape.We would enter off of Church Road,just past Paper Mill. A hint of a drive way was the entry through a clump of Mulberry trees opening up onto a field of waist high grass in mid-summer.This was a sure fire area to bring home some wood ticks from, especially in the fall months...

Then gleeful hearts racing on would arrive at another who knows what kind of tree line which almost hid a small, slow flowing brook.Just across the stream was a gently rising mound of earth, sprinkled with older trees, which were few in number but very tall. Most leaned at a slight angle towards the large expanse of dark green water known as Allen's Pond.

The lake was similar in shape to a raggedy figure eight. It was fed by a very small rill that entered on the far left top side from the upland that may have been called Rockledge...In that summer I learned that the lake had only one area that was more than six feet deep. And that was at the right hand waist of the Eight. The greater part was only three to five feet deep...

Now it was almost February and although I did not have a sled of my own,I had managed to take advantage of the frequent white blessings of that winter by sharing the Christmas presents of a couple of playmates.On that Saturday morning I had gotten Allen to come out of his nice warm house; with his new sled to try the days old snow up on Enfield's Kingston Road hill.Now Allen was a couple of years younger than me and on the thin side,so looking back with a parent's eyes I know now that coming out with me was not in his best interest...

At the top of Kingston we met up with Ten year old Tommy Myers. His father was a college graduate who was in sales for a big paint company.Although Tommy's family was obviously better off than mine, I was never jealous of him because his father was such a strict disciplinarian with his belt.And Tommy was always doing something to arouse has Daddy's Virginian anger.Where as my father did not know the meaning of corporal punishment...

Boring was not a familiar word to any of us,albeit Kingston soon was too routine.As I had been to Allen's Pond some days ago, before the current fall of six inches had come down,I remembered an Idea that had occurred then.

About five of us had marveled at the thick ice we could slide around on our shoes with. And then there was the ashes of bonfires on the shores,we imagined the older kids had left from ice skating parties(I don't think the term " Teen Anger " was extant yet?).The ashes fired our imaginations, mine any way... At the upper right of the Eight,a steep hill of perhaps fifty feet ran down to the waters edge,or in this case the ice.It entered my mind that one could sail down the hill and continue far across the ice!Wow! How great would that be!

So the plan was easy to sell to Tommy,Allen just said "We are?" As we were already in Enfield, we slogged over to Papermill and then took a right on Church.As our boots mushed on to the high grass field,fat flakes began to drift slowly down on to us...As we crossed the gray white expanse,Allen allowed as how it wasn't too cold? Tommy and I didn't really hear him,we were just impatient to see the ice...

Struggling over the rise, we found ourselves in a fog of disappointment.The ice was covered by six inches of mushy snow.The kind that left foot prints right down to the surface of the ice.The full realization of how useless it would be for our plans did not occur until we reached the waist of the eight. However being kids we thought we would try it anyway.We found it was too hard to clime straight up the steep hill, so we thought we would use the low ground to the left of the Eight to circle around the more gradual slope.As we started for the left, we were surprised to hear muffled cracking sounds racing away towards the middle of the lake...

Now the snow flakes had grown tiny and they were flying along out of the North West, Allen said in a fairly loud voice "I'm going home now!" And Tommy was right behind him, as they pulled their sleds to the close upper left of the Eight. Allen was smart already, and by the time he was seventeen I enjoyed being out smarted by him all of the time.But now I was in the middle of the Eight, and I thought I'll just shoot off to the right here ...

At about thirteen feet from shore, the deepest part of the lake, I stepped off into a shockingly cold abyss!In the time it takes to read "What?!!",I found myself submerged in a nether world.Then my head was in the growing wind again. I breathed it in,and as I doggy paddled towards the bank I felt the strangest sensation.It was heat flowing out of my body, like electric current...I felt ice under the snow in front of me and I tried to climb up on it. When it collapsed somehow I knew that was my avenue of escape from the ever increasing numbness of mind and body.Tommy and Allen tried to get help, but just let me say it wasn't in the cards.They were true friends and did not abandon me as fear would have some children do.In stead they encouraged me from the shore, as I through myself up onto the thin ice again and again, until I could clutch the earth once more.

The three of us were almost mute, as I emptied the water out of my boots.Then Tommy said something about making a fire,but I instinctively wanted to go home when injured in any serious way.Now that I was out of the water I didn't feel to terribly cold, and we started off towards warmth in the wind and the snow.When we reached Paper Mill Road Allen complained about how tired and cold he was, So I said
"Sit on your sled " and I pulled him the rest of the way to our Lyster Road.

I snuck in the back door, thinking it's lucky Mom is upstairs,as she called out to me "Is that you Raymond?"I can't remember if I replied...But I slipped down into the basement and took my clothes off.It seemed so odd how my leather jacket and my dungarees sort of stood up by themselves like an igloo... Next I sneaked up to the bathroom with a nice hot bath in mind.But before I could run the water I heard my mothers screams reverberating from the basement!

In those days the local Doctor would actually come to your house, and give you lot's of needles and a tongue lashing for being so stupid for walking in the snow like that!

***** Epilogue *****

Allen Wade grew up to be a handsome,tall blond young man who raced winning Hot Rods. He was clever enough to serve in The united States Navy Atomic Submarine Service.He married, and mustered out of the Navy in California.He bought himself a new Chevy and forgot new car tires weren't designed for speed...Allen was another friend that I still mourn.

Tommy Myers shared some crazy teenage adventures with me,however we took divergent paths in adult life and I kind of lost track of him.I think he did marry,after at least one near fatal auto accident in his early twenty's.And knowing his Dad , I'm sure he was a college graduate by the time I got my Honorable Discharge from the U.S.Air Force.

The above was not my last walk in the snow, and to this day, I make every effort to avoid being cold.....

" 9 9 D A R V O N ! "

2008-01-24T08:06:00.000-08:00

The Spring came early in Southern Illinois , but that was to be expected in 1961. Actually in that part of our world it seemed like there were only two seasons,Summer and Winter.Kind of like the people around me,they were young or they were old.

First let me tell you about a young one.

Ken Galloway splashed onto my life at the top of the stairs by the pool room.
I was headed over to the hospital to catch some early lunch on my day off,as it was
close to pay day and my money was close to nothing.The Sun shining through the
windows of the pool room illuminated a young man who I was sure was new to the
barracks... Immediately I was impressed by his sparkling black eyes below wavy raven hair,above a bright, confident smile. Unlike my usual associates, Ken seemed to be racing toward the future instead of evading his past.
As we started to stuff ourselves in the hospital Dining room, an old one plodded over to our table. It was Wayne Sayer. Wayne always reminded me of a character in " The Maltese Falcon ". You know one of those Humphrey Bogart films. The Character was a portly man of about 50 , in a dirty white tropical suit, always mopping his brow with a dirty white handkerchief... Well of course Wayne was only just maybe 24, but he was portly, with thinning blond hair, and light blue eyes set in a pasty white face.

Inklings I had gleaned of Wayne's pre-Air Forcelife included a hint at how he had been thrown out of a very liberal Ohio college for something like moral turpitude... However,as he had developed great typing skills the Air Force made him a clerk in my Hospital.If I had known what the term "SNOB" meant in those days, I would have known he was one.He claimed to have a photo graphic memory and that was why he was always spouting erudite quotes.I must admit though, he did encourage some of my initial interests in English Literature and Social Science. And of course drinking cheap wine at the laundromat, but that's another story...

When Sunny Miller told me he was 25,it came to me that was why he had already lived! He had been a Golden Gloves Champ in Kentucky before he was an oil well roustabout in Louisiana.And now days really old women, in their forties and fifties,took him out on dates.And they bought him really expensive English leather shoes and Things like big 100% wool overcoats...Sunny was a bit over six feet tall, with dark brown hair in a waxed,one inch high crew cut. His nose evidenced having been broken more than once, but strangely it still had a sharp tip? Of course he had a jaw that was square, like two bricks side by side.

Sunny and Wayne made up Two fifths of the Gang of Five that I had worked hard to become an integral part of.Ken was an occasional satellite of the gang who had achieved a non-harassment status.

I never saw Astrid before I came to the Dining Room one evening to swallow quickly and digest later.Evenings on the Surgical unit were like a hundred yard race,that taking more than twelve minutes to eat could cause me to loose...

I can only try to describe her. She was doe like in affect,only her brown eyes seemed to beam intelligent understanding of each individual.When she spoke to me, it was like no one else existed.Her figure was spare , but there was no doubt as to her feminine gender. She and Ken had just about finished as I sat , so there was
not much more time than would be polite after an introduction.As she and Ken returned their trays and sauntered out,the physical poise of a ballet dancer came to mind.

In time I learned that she had studied dance prior to her service entry and that she was a little older than Ken...

As May turned into July, and then the end of August, Ken seemed happy
with the '56 Ford someone had willed him,Astrid and his life.When the Gang of Five
went adventuring in search of that wonderful adrenalin rush that smashed boredom,
Ken was not among us.

Labor Day was on Friday, it rained steadily.Saturday it was dully overcast
with intermittent drizzle...Sunday was golden yellow bright! Having slept late, as I was able to do in my disturbed youth, I wandered down to the day room to check under the couch cushions for loose change. Often times lifting a dozen cushions
could reward the searcher with more than a Dollar! More than enough to get some breakfast out of the snack machines on the ground floor.Like any other addiction the adrenalin habit often left the addict unashamedly broke.

Before I could lift a cushion, I heard the phone ring in the hallway.
I wasted no time in answering it because who could say what opportunity for gain it
could lead to? There was to be no gain... Instead it was to be a burden. Sunny Miller was on the phone. He asked me if Ken was around? I advised I had not seen him yet today , but that I would slide down to his room and see if he was in.

Lucky Sunny was calling from the Emergency Room where he had what I thought was a cushy job.He often would regale the Gang with tales of his work that were either interestingly gory or that of sexual innuendo in content. Often,I was jealous of the technical skills the Docs were teaching him , like sewing up wounds or putting on plaster casts and the like.

Returning to the phone I told Sunny Ken was no where to be seen.Sunny's voice seemed to crack,as he intoned the serious message I had to deliver to the youth
we both wished we were.

Around One Thirty, I knocked on Ken's door and got no answer again. As I
turned to leave, Ken came through the back door a few steps from his room. The usual
big smile was all over his face,as I felt only pain, he said " Hey!You looking
for me Wolf?!!"I fumbled for a way to start.And I said"Have you talked to Astrid
lately ?" Ken said he had not seen her for a few days because they had " sort of broke up." Even though it was quiet in the hallway , I thought it would go better in his room. And it would bye me time to put the words together.Ken had his key out already so in a moment I was sitting in his chair and he had agreed to sit on his bed.Ken volunteered that when last he spoke to Astrid,She had playfully asked him
that if she were pregnant would he marry her? He asked her if she was? And she said no! It's just a hypothetical ! Ha!Ha!! Just kidding,you know...

Feeling very old, I said " Ken I have to tell you what happened..."
It seems that yesterday evening Astrid made her bed,took a bath,put on a clean uniform,laid down on her bed and swallowed 99 DARVON .....
Then as two old men , we cried...

2 0 0 8 New Years Resolutions

2008-01-02T12:05:00.000-08:00

Well here we go again ! A new year and another Birthday...

This year I'm going to do the seldom. I'm going to resolve a few things.

I had a list of maybe five , but all I can remember now are the first two .

They are important to me though, and so I'll list them.

Number one is to overcome , and be done with my latest addiction; Computer Solitaire.

Soon I'll be 67 , and I have precious little time left on this sphere. So anyway up

until December thirty first , for about six months, I have been actually getting high on it !

At first, I told my self that I was just trying to repeat my one time only perfect score

of 12000... Albeit, recently I stopped lying to myself and had the conscious realization

that I was being derelict to my duty to family, self and home because I wanted to play

more than anything much else.....

So , so far so good I hope I played my last game ever on the thirty first, and here it is the third

and I haven't fallen off the wagon yet . It's whispering to me , but I know that resistance is

not futile. I've beaten addictions before.

I did try to obtain the easy way out ( As I always do ) but Marge refused to delete the game .

Okay, Number Two on the list is equally difficult for me. I want to start some exercises with

weights and some calisthenics too. My birthday is in the wings so I'm going to wait

until I recover from that . Not to worry, I'll get to it soon enough...

Numbers three, four and five are unclear at the moment, but if I see ' 09 , I'm sure you will find

that I have addressed them !

Happy ! New Year !! From R a y The Nurse

The Blizzard of ' 7 7 . . .

2007-12-03T11:10:00.000-08:00

Everyone called him " Ray " , but nearing 40 he began to feel a secret desire to be called " Raymond"... More gray hairs were appearing in what used to be plenty of dark brown.

As of late,life seemed to be galloping forward through an ever darkening wood.
Was it just months ago? The Fourth of July fire works,in Mayor Rizzo's Philadelphia !

Marge, the Kid's and The old green Beetle; downtown and then back home again loaded with fun.
That was the unforeseen beginning of the end of seven years of very good luck for Ray...The house of Raymond had been built on the foundation of his job. One of twoideals he had inherited from his father was a strong work ethic, the other beingarespect for women.Those two poles had enabled him to forge a nuclearfamily,whose gravity held all of his world.

Now it seemed the dark of winter was creeping into his life all to early. Some few
months back, years of excellent reviews and accolades were suddenly forgotten at work.In an effort to ward off a growing and consistent targeting of himself,Ray did the unthinkable.

Unthinkable for Marge! That is... Ray jumped into an opening for Permanent Evening
Supervisor. A demotion in more ways than one, is what Ray new it would be, but it would mean ten percent more money and hopefully an end to any more loss of pride... Marge really didn't warm to the idea. But then,she was unaware of Ray's inner struggles to survive.

Christmas and an unhappy New Years Eve had come and gone. Another,"Well what
do you want? "birthday had seethed by and here it was maybe late January. It might have been Tuesday of that week.Mr.Giordano, Ray's Shotgun, was gabbing away as usual as Ray maneuvered at a high rate of speed toward The University. Mr.G. was going on about how he had managed to get such a great deal on some new concrete sidewalks in Chestnut Hill.

Ray murmured something about Mr.G.'s going to be rich for sure soon... What he was really thinking about though was how through months of very hard work,he had begun to redeem himself at the hospital; If only he could do that at home!Blam!!! It was a right rear Blow Out!!

Some luck remained, as Ray maneuvered quickly from the far left lane of The Sure Kill, to the stony right shoulder. Leaving for work early allowed plenty of time to change the tire,and still get a cheap, on time parking space. On Thursday evening after finishing with the shifts second code call,a false alarm,Ray paused to check the T.V. News in a Ravdin Building patient lounge. He had the thought ever so briefly, that One seldom saw more than one patient in these areas... It was the weather report . Something about a very large snow storm to be Marching up the North East Corridor tomorrow ! So I'll have to tell Mr.G. were going to take the train
tomorrow . Sure, that way my car won't be stuck at work, and I'll be able to get home to Margie and the babies before midnight...

Oreland to the Reading Terminal was very familiar,The Subway route to what was
to become University City took a little more alert thought. Ray was pleased with himself as he emerged, not too out of breath, from the stairs on to Thirty fourth Street... Striding towards the Hospital it came to him that he shouldn't have expected to run into Jimmy along the way , as he had come by way of the Chestnut Hill station. But still he was fond of old Mr.G's Mr. Bluster personae. At work he was some times more of a hindrance than a help, but some how his presence was a comfort.

At the office everyone was on their mark, set to run home . Not only
was it Friday ! But everyone knew where they wanted to be when the snow storm arrived.

And that was mostly anywhere but West Philadelphia !

As usual, Ray made the rounds of seventeen floors and units, three to
five times by about nine thirty. The E.R. had grown quiet, and all of the real sick patients seemed to have decided to wait until Saturday to try and die... Stepping outside of the grand entrance glass doors of The Ravdin Building , Ray could see that the snow was already maybe six inches deep. There was no wind , and it seemed very serene out there.....

The usual phone call had been made around seven-thirty,nothing new but the snow,
except " I hope your not home too late..." And of course he almost shouted about how capable and you know; it's all planned out !

Then there was trouble in NICU with a ventilator,which was reconciled after a
little bagging time , and a tightened humidifier jar. Back in the office at Ten-fifteen , he found Frankie Collins, Iona , and Jimmy " finishing up... " Soon, Ralph and Jackson breezed in with " Getting the Hell out of here ! " on their mind... Ray compromised, and said " Okay... Everyone
can run for it at Ten-forty five..." Sure , the Eleven to Seven Shift will be in by Eleven , I'll run to the Subway, and with any luck I can make the 11:37... Or at worst The 12 : 15 Local...

Okay , Ten to Eleven , I guess the night shift aren't going to be as
responsible as me ... And it was me after all that suggested that R.T. comply with the New hospital mandation to be on the job an extra half hour, by starting a quarter to the hour.

But Damn it! I'll just not answer any of the phones or beeper/radios , unless it's like a code call

Let's see , I'll just line up the three gadgets on the desk by the door here ; I've got my galoshes on, my hat's on my head, I've got my " James Bond " brief case and epee like umbrella ready to run! Where the Hell !! Are they!!!

Eleven - thirteen ! Gerry Comer and his assistant Carolyn splash through the oaken
door !! Carolyn speaks breathlessly of heroically finding a parking space on thirty eighth Street!

The report is status quo! Good night !! Ray raced down the wooden steps of the
part of the complex that dated from the Civil War era, over to Ravdin and out on to 34th Street.

West Philly had never before seemed so eerily hushed as Ray hurriedly pushed through the sterile white blanket. Maybe, maybe my luck will hold? After all didn't Billy Lott proclaim me

"The luckiest guy he ever met..."; But of course that was a long time, another world ago...

The steps down to the subway platform were still filthy, but now they were
filthy and wet. It seemed dangerous some how, just to be walking on them. It was as if the wetness had endowed the concrete and steel with some sort of vital malevolence.

But Ray still had to hurry, if there was to be any chance to reach the solace of home...

On the platform were three anxious souls. A thirtyish Black female who appeared to
feel entirely put upon because, well who knows... A Black male , who looked younger in age than the woman, although it looked like he had a hard life and not too warm a coat on. Then there was the White Policeman, who looked like he had been mad for a long time.

Ray checked out the faded stencils to see which side of the platform he should board on.After three or four examinations he was satisfied. But you know you can't be too careful. By pushing up the sleeve of his black Loden Coat ,which he took secret pride in, he saw that his Benrus already said 11:35 ... So much for catching The Landsdale express . But there was still time to get the 12:15 Local . The Cop paced back and forth, The young man hunched up his shoulders behind a pillar, and the woman continued to look angry...

It was quiet enough to hear the others breath and water dripping, so when a distant
squeal of metal on old steel etched the dank fetid air,all faces jerked to attention!
The train car thundered through the stop with all of the fury and rage of an artillery shell!

Ray assumed it must have been some kind of express? The Cop drew himself up to full
stature ,with his fists on his waist, and the woman began to pace in a small oval. The young man seemed to gesture with body language that's the way it always is...

In just eight minutes, here comes another screaming projectile! It too seem to have
only ghosts aboard... Now the Cop putt's his hand on his .38 Special and says " The
next one better stop ! Or I'm going to shoot em! "

No more cars came by after that . It would be good to at least get to the Terminal
tonight,but by One thirty Ray was alone on the platform; alone and exhausted he thought.Ray thought better of returning to the office, not just because of the dull anger for Gerry not relieving him a little early,but also because there was no place to lay down there...

A hard bench was commandeered in the Dulles Building , only the tenth floor had Psych
patients on it. The rest were closed offices. With his brief case as a pillow, Ray faded out for a while after convincing himself he wasn't embarrassed by his situation.....

Back on the dirty concrete platform at Six thirty five, Ray heard the mumble-
grumble of the Sub coming . As it slowed to a stop, Ray could tell by the white on the roof that it had been parked outside last night as he had tried to sleep.

Ray felt almost giddy with the knowledge that he was finally advancing towards home .
It had been as if he was caught up in some sort of nightmarish board game. And now he was winning! It was difficult to see the station signs through the almost opaque car windows, and as the train lurched forward again Ray realized "That was Market Street! ". Well I'll be okay, I'll just get off at the next stop, and walk back..... And here's the next stop, Oh; South Broad...

Nobody on the train, and now this platform is as quiet as a grave yard on a
rainy spring night. How can I get to the street ? There, through those revolving bars I guess .From the number of steps upward already covered, it seemed that the rail platform must have been deep below the surface. The air seemed to be freshening now as Ray turned another right angle on the odious concrete stairs . At the top of the short flight , a wide expanse froze Ray's spine.In the dim fluorescence,he began to perceive as many as one hundred
supine bodies!

If he had not been striding with determination towards home, he would have come up halt! The thought struck him that these inert bodies were what people commonly referred to as Bums ! Life experience assured him that they were very much alive and very dangerous in this situation. And his umbrella as epee , brief case as shield would not, could not save him from utter destruction, should these numbers without witness rise up against him...

Half way through the slumbering rags, Ray heard a deep, mean voice call out "Carson !
Where are you going ?!! " Carson, a relatively slight man, had just started to get up on the near right of Ray's path. He replied to the Ogre in a plainly trembling voice " Oh, I was just going to get a cigarette ? ". No! said the Ogre, and Carson lay back down... Ray felt as if he must be invisible as his leaden legs propelled him on towards what looked like the morning light.

Ray was exhilarated by the vast open space, on the South side of City Hall, as well
the virgin blowing snow that seemed endless. Yes ! It's this way, a couple or three blocks to the Reading Terminal and then Home!

The doors to the Terminal opened in or out, but then five flights of steps had to be
surmounted as the escalators were not working. No surprise there ......

No green Landsdale signs lit yet , but it's only 7:52... At least I can sit down and it's not too cold... Say this would be a good time to take a leak... Yes, the pause that refreshes...

It looks like the Fuzz let a couple of shopping bag ladies nod through the night here, I'm afraid of that kind of poverty... Like the Bums.

Wow !There's The Landsdale Green! I won't have any trouble getting a seat because I'm
apparently the lone rider, scurrying under the dim grey vault high above... Very little light couldpierce the ancient, glass and iron arch that spanned the eighteen tracks ; not now, or when Ray was only nine years old. Since then the soot and oil had grown ever thicker, but Ray could seethe Sun brightening the maw of the Terminal...

Okay!Were finally moving ! Checking his watch he saw it just 08:12, not bad, I'll be
home before Nine... I'm certainly glad , I got a round trip ticket yesterday , because now that I went and splurged on a couple of cups of coffee at work, I don't have a dime on me .

Just as Ray was starting to feel some slight comfort from the train car's aged heating system, The Conductor made his first appearance by Slam- Banging !!! The door open !Not making eye contact, he shouted North Philadelphia! Every One Off ! The Breaks are No Good!!

In a daze Ray stepped off of the steel steps into more than two feet of virgin
snow. Diagonally on his left he saw in the now almost blinding sunlight a turn of the century Rail Road, green house like shelter. As the snow was still powdery , Ray was able to ease the glass paneled door open with surprisingly little strength... Inside he estimated the dimensions were about twelve by fifteen. On three of the walls were mounted brown wooden benches. Right in the middle was a pot bellied iron stove. Even if any fuel been available , Ray had quit smoking , it seemed years ago... And so, of course he had no means of igniting a fire...

Fortunately not all of the small panes of glass were broken out, So the now the
cruel wind, that was creating amazing drifts on the plains surrounding Ray's island could not so easily drain what little energy Ray had left.

Circumstances can cause just the ticking of the watch on your wrist to be pain full.
It's a train! I'm getting on no matter where it's headed! Even if it's headed for Doylestown, I can get off at Glenside and .......

The Conductor sang out " Landsdale Local - Next Stop
Jenkintown ! " Through the fog in his mind he thought " I'm going to be home soon.."
Oreland! The wind is less pain full now. There's a man trudging into the Hardware with no awareness of a neighbor trying to get home . The gently sloped street is so easy to traverse in the heat of August... And now a left onto Redford Road, so familiar and yet now so frozen strange... Up towards the house, along where the walk should be...

As Ray's eyes began to adjust to the indoor light,his Margie appeared from the stairs.
" Where were you all night ? Why didn't you call ? !! "......

***** Epilogue *****

In the inevitable Summer that followed, Proud Butterflies caressed the warm earth with love.

As luck would have it, in the Decade or so that followed Ray was able to clasp them to his heart, for true love can't be frozen.....

" C r u e l ? "

2007-11-08T07:04:00.000-08:00

Rupell described his own personae as that of a big dumb, farm boy. His appearance did not belie that idea. He had brown hair that already seemed insufficient for his large square head at only twenty years of age.

He had a pleasant face , with a ready smile and large brown eyes,but few would call him handsome.

When he walked his six - one frame carried his 185 Lb.s in a loping gait, that was reminiscent of a young farmer walking across the freshly plowed furrows of a corn field...

Generally he was well groomed compared to his peers , and he allowed as how he never had a
dental cavity yet... That was a marvel to those of us who had half of our teeth filled twice already.
His choice of civilian clothing spoke of his innate thrift. Although his shirts and winter clothing seemed perhaps pre- Air Force, it was the pants . John's Trousers were usually of the kind that a car mechanic, or janitor would seem normal in.

John was of third generation Russian and German stock. He actually was very perceptive and wholly brighter than he looked. He developed a plan to attend college while in The Air Force...

He had gotten himself assigned to straight night shifts on The Medicine Floor. So then he could catch a bus in the morning to attend some classes in Saint Louis, and be back in time to catch some Z's, before the 11 to 7 shift...

Well , it didn't work out... Maybe he was falling asleep on the job , or maybe he just couldn't handle it,but he was all bummed out.

I knew he had a gun in his room, but I didn't know he had three firearms and ammunition in his locker.
As I recall , it was a Monday morning in early April. Spring was still not up yet in the southern mid west, but there was no wind and the overcast was very high. The word " Crisp" comes to mind in terms of the weather outside...
Having worked the eve shift over the weekend I had Monday off. Too late for breakfast , I slid down the hall to the pool room to see if MacIntyre who had been my roommate for a time was there. He had the worst smelling feet of all time, he also had a very serviceable Mercury coup,which would comfortably transport us to the Diner.

Sure enough Yule," don't call me Yuki" was running the table all by himself. As I strolled into the room , I could plainly hear the strains of Tex Ritter's Album " Blood on the Saddle" wafting from John's room which was adjacent. Just then Paul Salms and Steve"The Bug" Friedman came in the other door.

Steve's nickname was short for Jitterbug which accolade he had earned in part because of his age nineteen, and partly because he could only seem to tell the truth on pay days. Certainly we all embellished our truths , but Steve embellished his lies...

When John opened his door,we all slouched in and we saw that he was cleaning his guns . On his bed he had some kind of a single shot 22 Cal. Rifle, and on his Table/Desk he
had a 45 Cal. Automatic, as well as a 38 Cal. pistol.
I hadn't seen so many guns at one time since Basic Training. The Bug was most interested in the rifle strangely enough, and he asked John some questions about it.
Yule said " Hey! Why don't we all go shoot some guns!!" And we were off ! All except for Paul, who had a Dental Appointment. It turned out that Yule had bought some kind of " Cuban Revolutionary Carbine ", the week before. He had purchased it from a large hardware store in Saint Louis at a very low price. Yule claimed the store got twenty five
cases of them, and all were packed in the usual preservative gun grease, which was very
hard to get off...

Yule drove us to a wooded area, that kind of stood out as unusual in the surrounding sea of fallow , flat fields. He parked just off of the old humped back road,near a cement bridge. The bridge spanned a fair sized stream, that passed through the woodland.
You could tell that the stream overflowed it's banks during winter storms. There were patches of icy puddles here and there, where the leafless sycamore trees still shaded the ground
with their black,marching trunks.

Thanks to John we brought some paper targets , and some cans and bottles we picked up along the road with us. The stream was a couple of feet deep and slow moving , so we tossed our collected refuse in and blazed away! Yule opined " We are really gettin our enjoys now! " And he was right !! We were all having fun! Then John put some of his paper targets up on trees, and we were all surprised at what a good shot I was... With a rifle that is.

Johns 45 Cal. Ammo was of the Military kind . Full metal jacket. He said" I want to see what these expensive things look like after they hit something..." Obviously those that went towards the cold water were gone,and digging one out of a frozen tree was an unlikely option...
So John made a serious mistake . Very clever John shot the 45 into the puddle of ice he was standing on. Now the Ice was only about two or three inches deep. And , I bet John thought the bullet would go right through it and stop in the soft earth underneath? Well John forgot to remember that the earth underneath was frozen as hard as the Devils heart...

Our group of fools stood in a sort of circle , peering down at the ice,trying to see where the bullet penetrated for what seemed like thirty seconds. Then just as some of our temporary gunshot deafness was beginning to dissipate , we heard and saw the bullet clatter on the ice!!! It had ricocheted straight up ! And so had fallen back to earth without noticeably
arcing. If it had traveled skyward at ten or fifteen degrees off the perpendicular , one of us would probably be dead, or in a great deal of pain...
Everyone calculated that immediately , except maybe for the Bug. However it was left unsaid as John picked up the spent bullet he prized.

Yule , John , and I decided it was light up time, and we thought aloud about getting some lunch. It was then that we began to speculate on what Steve was up to.

Steve was from Philadelphia Pa. I think he was Jewish from the North East , but he claimed to be Italian from south Philly. Whatever! He was a total city boy in any case and I felt he had never handled a weapon until Basic training.
Now we saw him stalking through the trees,
eyes focused on high in the renewed quiet of our small forest de jour. We heard the report of the rifle, and it seemed singular compared to our recent community din. As we approached Steve's ground , he called out " I got em ! I got em!! " He was pointing to a bird on the ground , not much bigger than a Robbin and kind of dark in color.
It seems, Steve was a better shot than me after all... But then I was only aiming at targets.....

As a woman might say" The poor thing!" It wasn't dead. No, it was flopping around at Steve's feet. We all stared at the pitiful creature with a broken wing ,that had just fallen a hundred feet to the merciless ground.

No one wanted to see the suffering continue , but John was the first to act.
He picked up a fallen branch, and attempted to club it out of it's misery. As we watched silently, I could see it was not having the intended effect.

To this day, I can't bare to see any of God's innocent creatures suffer. So, I gently staid John's hand , and moved him aside. Raising my brogan shod right foot above the bird, I brought it down smartly on the birds head!

John said " Man your cruel !!! "

Winter Equinox- 2 0 1 2 , Where were you ?

2007-11-03T05:59:00.000-07:00

December , Twenty first , Twenty Twelve marks the end of the Fifth Sun.

That is measured from 3 1 1 4 B.C. The Star that is the anchor of our Solar System experiences magnetic storms of increasing magnitude in eleven year cycles, earth time.

The Ancients believed Venus was reborn every 6 2 2 years , 2 months , and 9 days .
At that time Venus transits between the sun and the Earth .

Coincidentally? On December Twenty First 2 0 1 2 , The Eleven Year Cycle of Solar storms will be at a penultimate peak ... The last peak was in 2 00 1 . It interfered with radio communications to some extent at that time , endangered Astronauts , and of course in September we had the murderous attack...

Related historical events I have read of are " The little Ice Age ", " Cortes conquering The Aztecs " , and " The American Revolution ".

Every One is aware of The Earths Atmosphere , but who thinks of it's Magnetosphere ? Ordinarily the Earths magnetosphere protects life on Earth from the Suns outpouring of Solar winds, albeit it may not be entirely up to it for The End of The Fifth Sun...

The largest quiescent volcano in the world is " Yellow Stone National Park", a landslide off of the Atlantic Islands known as The Azores , could provide The East coast of America with a tsunami 500 feet high , rushing up to The Appalachians ...

The Economies of Western Civilization are profoundly dependent on Electronic Communication and records... Solar flares can severely interfere with, or even destroy satellite function. E.C.'s on the surface of the earth can also be disrupted by extreme Solar activity...

Think , No cell Phones working ! No electronic Banking ! No MAC's ! No Wire Transfers ( they don't use wires any more ... ) ! Heaven forbid! No TV !!

The worst is we may be militarily naked for quite some time . At the end of WW II , Radar, The A-Bomb, and Radio were a big deal. Now days our major military strengths are profoundly sensitive to computer capabilities, interdependent on satellites . Terrorists are not nearly as dependent , to accomplish their evil...

The Calender of prognostication of The Maya ends on December, 2 1 , 2 0 1 2, indicating a new unknowable era of new beginnings... The Chinese calender of predictions , roughly three thousand years old, indicates a time of great and profound changes in the whole world...

The current Chinese government has ordained a new leadership succession in 2012...
China is obviously going to be the next " Super Power " on Earth. China already has the largest standing army on earth, and they are furiously developing a prodigious navy.....

Solar storms could possibly cause black outs in all of Americas major cities for maybe a month or more... Think no lights, no 911 calls , no police radio , no TV, no Radio News, no water,
no heat, no AC, reduced Hospital care... Etcetera, Etcetera, Ad infinitum !!!

Civilization as we now enjoy, would be on hold at best.Have you got plenty of guns and ammo to protect you and yours?!!

Oh well ! That's all crazy talk ! Nothing like that ever happens ! Don't worry ! Be happy !! The Future is bright, have you got your rose colored sun glasses on yet?!!

What's One more Equinox anyway ?

White Light ?

2007-10-17T05:57:00.000-07:00

Scientifically speaking, when you separate white light into a spectrum, it is all colors combined.
Studies of the Human Genome indicate there never was an " Adam ", albeit there certainly
was an " Eve ", and she lived somewhere in central Africa.
Of course that was an eon before the Stone Age , we are all so fond of remembering.
And I have read that a world wide cataclysm, may have reduced the number of human prototypes to as few as a thousand ancestors, prior to their overflow out of what became Africa.

When I have been asked about my nationality,while on foreign soil, I reply as follows; I am an American, born in Philadelphia Pennsylvania. I declare that I am a citizen of the United States of America, by birth right.
Just by dint of being born within the boarders of the U.S.A. does not allow me full pride and ownership of my citizenship in the Nation that leads the Free World. Instead, I adhere to the philosophy of " Blood and Iron ".

My Father volunteered to serve in The U.S. Army for WWI, albeit the war was over before he could serve directly. During WWII he helped to build the ships of war Like the Battle Ship New Jersey. My brother Frederick served in a number of sea battles in the South Pacific, and my brother Robert was with "Patton's Army"in Europe. Between them they were awarded more than three Purple Hearts, for severe life threatening wounds. On D-Day my mother's sister's son, Harold Garmin lost his life in Normandy France.

Steve Godal, my wifes wonderful father who was in The Army Air Force, was stationed in England during WWII and he attained the rank of Sargent.

My sister Margaret married William Kinsley, who was decorated for outstanding service during "The Berlin Air lift". That was an early flash point in the Cold War, which lasted fifty years.Bill served more than thirty years , in The Air Force and Navy during those years, including a stint in Viet Nam.

Thomas Franke saw action in the Mountains of Korea during The Korean War. His role as a combat Medic was often overridden by the need to slay the enemy, at times with a bayonet.

When The World was almost ended during the "Cuban Missile Crises ", the unit I was serving in( Part of The U.S.A.F. ) , was alerted for the invasion of Cuba...

My family were not just born on U.S. Soil; No they earned their rights as citizens by dint of " Blood and Iron".

To my way of thinking true African Americans are those people of African decent, who came to America during the dark days of Slavery. George Washington fought on the side of England during The French and Indian Wars. Many Companies of Militia were made up of African Americans fighting for the English side during The French and Indian wars.

Crispus Attucks , a free African American, was an activist for Colonists rights for a few years prior to his being killed by a British Peace Keeper at what became known as The Boston Massacre.
More than 7,000 African Americans served in The Continental Army. Among them was The hero of Bunker Hill , Mr. Peter Salem. Many American officers described him as super human. During the battle he killed The British commander , General Pitcairn.

During The Mexican American war African Americans served , bled and died for America.

An enormous amount of Americans suffered and died in Americas Civil War to end slavery in The United States. Many Thousands of those Heroes were African Americans.

From The Spanish American War right up to the current War on Islamic fascist, True African Americans have fought for America with Blood and Iron. Therefore I take pride in sharing my rights as a citizen of the Greatest Nation on Earth with them.
The other day I spoke to a grandfather of six , while making a purchase at a large hardware store. He was a U.S. Citizen, albeit he was born in South Viet Nam. He related that he had been in The Signal Core of The South Viet Nam Army, and how he had fought along side of Americans. When America bailed out , and The North took over he was placed into a " Reeducation Camp", where he said he only survived because of what he had learned from American soldiers...Many of his friends died in the virtual death camp.
Time did not permit me to learn of how he got to The U.S.A., but as I shook his hand in parting, I thought " Blood and Iron " , he too has earned the rights of America for himself and his family. As have all whom have served The American Flag !

" Tough Cookies ! "

2007-10-13T17:19:00.003-07:00

Politicians usually find a following by giving those to be influenced various goodies. Late in life I found out that I really want everybody to love me , or at least like me a lot... So, I have to admit that sort of makes me, what people I used to work with would call a " Politician ". Of course that appellation does not always carry a good connotation.

Our tour bus was tall and narrow,which made it possible to traverse most of the ancient streets of Rome with ease. I added a new word to my minute Italian vocabulary, by asking our very adept driver what was the Italian word for " Snow ?". He was not loquacious, but he would always politely answer a direct question. His answer was a curt " Nivea ", which sounded like Neeveea... I can't be sure of the spelling , but I think it's where they get the name for the white skin lotion , that comes in a blue bottle ?

If memory serves we left Rome at about One in the afternoon Adriatic time, to ride thirty Klicks east to Lake Albano. Lake Albano is at a considerable elevation above sea level, as it is actually the caldera of an ancient extinct volcano. Like The Poconos , I am sure it must be refreshingly cooler in the Mediterranean Summers. That must be why Pope Urbanus VIII selected it as his summer residence back in 1624... You know " Urbanus " must have been a popular name for guys back in the day? Like Jordan, or Michael is now days...Any way, he had some guy by the name of Carlo Maderno, to put up " Castel Gandolfo for him. That made the property values in the area sky rocket, and the next thing you know Bernini designed a nice church in the Greek style , for right down the street.

Close to our destination, the streets were too skinny even for our svelte bus. So we had to walk up a thirty two degree inclined, cobble stoned lane toward the cafe veranda. The view, as we sat over looking the lake far below, was as the Italians say" So beautiful !! ".Though when it's expressed in a Romance Language it sounds more impressive. Our guide Rose, ran us around mostly the outside of some of what we had come to see, and of course the ladies in the group wanted to check out some of the quaint shops...

Just a ways before Nuncio parked our sumptuous conveyance , I had observed what I was sure was a Bakery Shop. A sign had said " Bono Pan nae ", or the like... And in true politician form, I thought" if I can make it down to that Bakery in the few minutes left before the bus leaves town..." I was sure I could get some sort of goodies , to hand out to my fellow tourists. Surely that would raise my status in their eyes, and maybe even Margie's ?

Well I'm a good down hill racer, and I was able to find the shop just as the increasing lack of sunshine was making eventide obvious . Believe it or not as I pushed the glass paneled wooden door open , a spring at the top made those old fashioned jangly bells ring.It was as small as the town inside , and dimly lit. In the yellow light behind the short glass case, I saw two, not too elderly, Northern Italian Women. They each wore a dark, long sleeved sweater with grandmotherly white aprons. They seemed startled by my fat self bounding into their world unexpectedly. Sensing their unease , I wanted to put their qualms to rest ; so I gathered my meager language skills together and said " Bona Serra! , Comae Va? "( Which is how I spell"Good Evening! , How are you ? ,in Italian phonetically) . By the way the farther North of Rome you go, the more Italian starts to have a French accent, and the peoples features begin to have a more Northern European look... But as soon as I uttered " Quanta Costa ? " , I had to let the two Senoras in on my major lack of Italian language skills... They were obviously flustered because people who speak the Northern brand of Italian in those days said , " of the few words and phrases I knew my accent and diction was perfect." So, in retrospect I knew that they thought I was a local at first, and then had to do a double take!

Well it wasn't a Danish or German Bakery, but I opted for three bags of various cookies and huffed and puffed back up hill to the bus, There I was greeted by Marge glowering " Where were you?!! " She quickly forgave me when she examined my treasure trove... Once back in the seats we thought of as ours, and on the move again towards the plains, I thought "I'll just try one of these..." Crunch! Crunch!! Ack ! Have I just spent Twelve Thousand Lira on three bags of marbles?!! They sure weren't Toll House Cookies, or Pecan Sandies ! Or those nice soft peanut buttery thingys! Well as dumb luck would have it, everybody else on the bus thought they were the Cat's Meow, and for the next three days I basked in the warm glow of tough cookies......

" Got Cancer ? "

2007-10-08T16:41:00.002-07:00

In the winter of 1953 , My brother Tommy was not back from the Korean war yet.I was not yet 12 years old, but close to it.Anyway Tommy being away and all, gave me the opportunity to listen to an old radio he had in his room.
One evening , during a " Gang Busters " program that highlighted my sister Marie's husband's father's exploits ( he was the famous Philadelphia ,Detective Ryan ) , I heard a commercial plea for donations to " The Damon Runnion Fund" for Cancer research...
Even at this young age , my mother had retold to me the legend of my brother Paul, so many times I was sure I knew it by heart... My Sainted brother Paul, and he was a true Saint according to the many times recounted tale , died a tragic death from a cancer called Sarcoma.
Amputation of his leg, after he grew the fifty pound tumor in it was just part of the sad story. Yes, he got the big " C " by falling on his knee while rollerskating... Almost five years later, when all of the Doctors were talking about" He may be a cure for Journal",it came back in his arm. He begged my mother not to let them take his arm off too ! But that was back in '37......
Right now ( October, 2007) I am told my sister Marie who I love dearly,is near death with Breast Cancer...
In the past fifty years and more , I wonder how many Billions of dollars have been collected to fight cancer( search for a cure) , the monster with myriad guises and shades. Research has produced some effective ways of stopping cancer , other than just amputation...And I understand there now is a sort of vaccination that prevents a certain virus from taking hold in women, that would eventually bring about cervical cancer. Also , not using Tobacco products, not drinking too much alcohol, good dietary habits, et cetera, can lessen your chances of catching the big"C".
Over the last five years or so, the number of all sorts of Cancer Research fund pleas on my favorite form of entertainment " Television " , have increased exponentially each year. I find it very intrusive...I want to forget all about cancer, until I have to decide on which caliber to end mine with! But no! Each day I have to be reminded about the Bogey Man , that's going to get me sooner or later! Well my wife tells me I shouldn't be " so cynical " , and I suppose she is right again...
But lately I have been terrorized by the Medical Insurance Companies commercials. No that's wrong . They don't scare me so much as make me somewhat disgusted with the people who run the world of medicine in my beloved country...
These commercials talk about poor souls who can't afford the treatment's for cancer, that charities have collected Billions of dollars over more than fifty years to develop the treatments for !!! Does that mean when the race for the cure is done, some people will still have to beg for the money to pay for it ?!! The time for me to have the answer to this question is now! How about you ?!!
Cancer , to my way of thinking is a natural disaster. It's like Katrina, or an earth quake... Treatment for it should be a Right, not something that should cause your family to be bankrupted. What about all that money that has been donated for the last half century, and the last five years?
In the nineteen fifties cancer was a disease, now it seems to be big business, that's the view of this cynic.....

The trouble with Milan...

2007-10-04T12:36:00.000-07:00

Venice was to be our next destination on this tour of Italy, that was beginning to become my chosen way of life...

The Air Travel had been par for the course, that is to say arduous... Once on Terra fir ma , at the Rome Air Port, Marge and I thought "well now we can start to relax...".

Wrong again ! Wondrously we recovered our copious luggage with relative ease, albeit for some reason we had to haul it personally towards the way out. The way out was the large part of a funnel. The funnel began to taper into a spiraling concrete walkway into which our two person caravan was absorbed by perhaps three hundred parts of Humanity.
Spilling out in spray fashion into a street level plane of more yellowed concrete, we scanned at eye level for our Tour Guide... At last, after abandoning all hope, Marge spotted a gnome like figure scurrying in what seemed like our direction! It was "Rose". Rose gave new meaning to the phrase " short in stature " , and she was just this side of plump. She carried with her her ever present standard. It was an off green, bargain umbrella,that she held high as she led her march of "Tourers" from Museum to Doumo( Cathedral).
Well, suffice to say we saw some of Rome, including The Vatican. The pope was out of town that week, so we missed the Blessing, albeit I did buy some of his coins and stamps. Rose got us in to the Vatican Library, which was actually what I would have opted for... It was very interesting. The Sistine Chapel was kind of a let down though. Kind of like Niagara Falls... Sure, it was great, but not as awesome as we thought it would be . It was not anywhere near as wonderful as holding your first child in your arms .
As I recall, we got into our very modern Hotel room in the evening,just outside of Milan. It seemed kind of sterile after our Roman accommodations. And that was some what refreshing.In the morning we arose to a sparkling , crisp , September day in Northern Italy . It was a little breezy, but that seemed just right. Marge had been complaining a tad about some halitosis , I had developed due to a dental bridge that had gone bad... And I figured in this breeze ... Well it was just a thought.
We saw the famous Opera House " La Scala ", in the morning and Marge took my picture outside , standing by this really neat motorcycle. I think it was a Harley... Yes in Italy. The next thing you know we were having a sandwich on the patio of a downtown restaurant.I was feeling so good I must have been in a manic phase!
On The Bill of Fare for the afternoon was a visit to a " Doumo", Rose had told us we should not miss.We were to meet up with our drove , no later than One. Another Cathedral?!!
The approach was from the west. As Cathedrals go, this one was on the small side. It was small like the very finest of diamonds. It was all of the whitest marble God had created!Even the myriad statues of ancient Saints, that adorned the facade were of the most lustrous white marble...The building had a raised platform of flat stone up three steps, laid out like a white apron, perhaps one hundred yards wide and fifty feet deep in front of the entrance.
As we approached the steps we were joining a crowd of between five hundred and a thousand people who were comfortably milling about, or lounging on the steps in the very bright sunshine. Think of the finest Spring Day you can remember , and that's how it was...Work habits are not easily left behind, even on vacation. So with the aid of my very effective , new prescription lenses, I scanned the plane of humanity for threat levels. Out of the multitude only two people looked odd, but not threatening. The first was a furtive young man of about 19 or 20, who seemed to be moving about with purpose, but in no particular direction.Then there was a young woman with lite brown hair who seemed a year or two older. She had a white canvas bag slung in front of her, like the kind paper boys employed when I was a kid. Although I surmised it was some kind of a European Baby carrier device. My mind quickly skipped on to the beauty that loomed in front of me.
Marge stopped to talk to a couple of our fellow travelers, as I just had to get inside the grand red doors to see what was waiting in the low light inside...Doffing my shades, I put them in their case and into the breast pocket of my sports jacket. I was not disappointed with the medieval sanctuary of the soul that greeted me. Entirely awestruck, I strode into the blazing sunshine that had waited for me outside the red doors. It was then I realized I had become separated from Marge again! She was not going to be happy if I did not take her hand in mine very soon! We had gotten separated for a time in Florence , and she was still mad... But that's another story ( It's all about " David"). So I started straight forward through crowd, and when I had gone about twenty five feet,suddenly the aforementioned young man appeared in front of me, and he grabbed my left arm at the wrist. As he kept up a steady jerking of my left arm towards him, he was babbling loudly in a tongue I didn't recognize as Italian ! At the same moment I could feel a hand caressing my left breast area, ever so briefly... As my adrenaline surged, I began to experience tunnel vision. At the end of the tunnel I saw the threat of a young man. Years of experience kicked in! At one and the same time, I yanked my visible assaulter toward me with my left, and plunged my upward turned palm of my right hand, with all the weight of 205 pounds,into his Sternum!! He flew backwards into the crowd...A man of about fifty suddenly came into my right periphery and said in perfect English " Be careful !" Now I counted three people who certainly did not mean well towards me . Three to one is not good odds in my book . So I made a blind dash to be in a different area, like now! And who comes up to me with my sunglasses case extended for a reward? You guessed it . It was the young man who had just learned a small lesson from Ray. I took the case from his hand. Said" thank you ", and joined Marge at the steps. So the trouble with Milan was like most big cities they had pick pockets !

When I fell in Love...

2007-09-28T17:24:00.000-07:00

First of all I have to be frank, This is all about me... So , I must let you know who I was at the time. Hardly five years before that, in the summer of '63, I had been let loose from four long years in the USAF. I had served as a Medic as my chosen career path. Of course in those days , I had never heard of the phrase "Career Path...". For most of three years , I worked as a practical nurse, albeit at times I did more than a Registered Nurse is licensed to do. But that's a tale for another time...
As I had signed a paper saying I volunteered to go any where in the World ( and that included Viet Nam... ) My superiors asked me if I would like to go to Italy for a few months? No, it's true ; They actually asked me if I wanted to go !
I have to tell you that at the same time,coincidentally? My gang of five was broken up, and the guy that ran the gambling in the barracks ( a four story concrete block edifice), was assigned to Alaska. I figured John Sevistak would own half of Alaska before long, but Wayne Sayer was sent to Istanbul Turkey ( He called it "The Arm Pitt of The World !") . So I realized much later that I got "The Plumb". I think Paul what's his name , who also was decorated for his save the General actions,was sent to "France", but then he was not in"The Gang of Five...". And that's how Executive decisions are made I suppose.....
Once at Aviano, working as a sort of very junior Doctor, in a Class "A" Dispensary, I learned The Air force mantra of " You see one , You do one , You teach one..."
Upon arrival at Aviano, The First Sargent,and all of the Enlisted Men were very suspicious and unwelcoming of me. They apparently had had some personnel problems a couple of months before I arrived with my Top Secret Security Clearance , my orders to leave in just four months,my sudden midnight arrival from who knew where, all under the heading of " Operation Short Spurt ". And I didn't seem to know exactly how to be a " Junior Doctor " !!! Their Suspicion grew when after a week of menial jobs, I got orders in the Mail promoting me to NCO status... So, then while getting some training in how to take and develop X-Ray plates , I offhandedly said "Howdy!" to a Bird Colonel, who was travelling in mufti ( civilian clothes, speaking Italian). The Crew suspected I was from the Inspector Generals Office,trying to nail someone?!!
As I was already severely clinically depressed upon arrival, The Crews shunning me entirely for the first month led me to stop abusing beer, and to start abusing whiskey;it was cheaper anyway...
Somewhere in the first few days of the shortest month,after far too many whiskey and sodas, I found my way back to my room , with the real Italian marble floors. The whiskey had slid my twenty three year old brain from depressed mode , over to angry mode... Emanating from three doors down, I heard too loud laughter and expressions of amusement ! Like a hot blanket , the concept enveloped me! Then I was there , barging in!They continued to not see me ! They had the Audacity to be talking about who was the baddest ? The guys from the West Coast, or The Guys from the East Coast?!! Well after the semiprofessional beat the crap out of me, they must have put me in my bed to sleep it off, because when I woke up in the morning, all of the lumps on my head were under the hair, but it was hard to keep my head on the pillow...
As I kept my mouth shut at work the next day, The Crew let me know I finally had one acceptance, by ceremonially ambushing me after work and ripping my pants off! All the while laughing with the glee that comes of doing to someone else , what had been done to you! But that's another story...
The depression did not stop, but the shunning did.My psychological state at the time was way to often expressed by inappropriate laughter. My loud guffaws were no joke, and often got me in trouble in and out of the military. Much later I learned the raucous annoyance to many is called a defence mechanism. Lucky as I always have been , early on at the Dispensary, I was able to out diagnose the Head Doctor ( " Oh, that's epididimytis !" ) . When he realized I was correct , he offered me a deal... Tell no one , and I could laugh whenever, and however I wanted to!In no time at all my superiors stopped nagging me.

In the last three months of my service time the Executive officer kept trying to get me to re-up.He kept asking me things like "Well what are you going to do when you get out? I didn't have a clue, but I knew one thing. Someday I wanted to have a wife and family...Maybe a job at the Bud plant, and a nice cozy row home......
When I got home to my elderly parents, I was scared. It was just like getting out of High School all over again. No plans, no direction, no idea about the real world. I had been running away from home for the last four years! Now I had become The Prodigal Son Unrepentant!!!

After about a week of trying to be the ass of the year, I saw an add for entry level linemen over at Bell Telephone in Jenkintown. While filling out the questionnaire, I saw four or five guys with obvious hangovers( it was Monday), that I was sure I went to Cardinal Dougherty with. What surprised me was how dissipated they looked... I was a frequent flyer in front of the mirror in those days, and I was sure I looked much healthier than those guys! Wow!!
By mid September, it was still hot, I had gained employment in the press shop at Standard Pressed Steel. It was some of the dirtiest most dangerous jobs they had, but the work made my arms very strong... To get the job, one had to be able to read and write at an eighth grade level, and be able to lift 75 pounds. It turned out that the latter portion of the equation was the most important, because mostly what you did all day was to lift 75 pounds. Over and over, again and again for eight hours... No union at SPS, but they were a world famous Quaker Family company.
In Horatio Alger fashion? It's true , I found my self in white shirt and tie,working in the Drafting Room at SPS, when the announcement came over the loud speaker.
" The Governor of Texas and The President have been shot...". In a moment a guy in a white shirt came in and asked me to follow him. It seemed that 300 guys and I were laid off...

Bob and I drove down to D.C., and we experienced the funeral very personally. With JFK gone the impending Winter seemed truly bleak.And so looking for a job seemed ethereal , and with unemployment insurance keeping me in cigarettes and gas money, somewhat pointless ? But then Mom saw an add in the Bulletin for an Oxygen Therapist at Lankenau Hospital. She suggested that I get off my lazy behind and see if I could qualify.
Well one thing I learned in the service was how to be a con-man. So by using my well honed skills at getting people to believe that they wanted whatever was best for me, I got this Doctor with the Greek sounding name to hire me over the protestations of the Director of Inhalation therapy.
I used what little knowledge I had, and the See one , do one mantra to catch on fully in a couple of months . Then I heard about a school for Inhalation Therapy at The Hospital of The U.of P. And they actually forked over a stipend for the year! On the way to the interview, I almost blew a high speed turn off the Sure Kill Crawl way, because I was hysterically desperate to not be late for the interview!
As usual my path had a few pot holes, fits and starts, but in the end I got the Diploma...As you may have heard pride comes before a fall. I had to learn that every year or so until I left the work world. After a couple of years, and a couple of jobs , I managed to come back to H.U.P. as a supervisor in Respiratory Therapy, and I was proud...
Infatuations came and went, just like the years...After a while I no longer sought relationships, because like pride there comes the inevitable fall.Falls hurt. Then we hired Clark. Bill was immensely successful in getting dates and invites to parties at high rises down by the river. He had one problem. The girls did not trust him much so they usually wanted him to double date. I think Bill Clark was from Chicago or some place like that. So , I was one of the few single guys he knew, and who had a car...For a week or ten days, leading up to Christmas, Bill was the point man for a blinding social onslaught for me. So, a day or so after Christmas, I think it was a Saturday evening , we were both off. And I said to him on the phone , let's just hang out at Smokey's , and maybe get in a fight tonight ?Now Bill did some bar tending at Smokey Joe's and he had a small apartment above it. So after he gave me a few free drinks, he knocked off work there, and he went upstairs to change . I stepped out front to get some fresh air with my cigarette , and to see if the weather was still mild for December...Chie Wa Wa! Here comes a couple of young ladies! Both blond !! Heres my chance to show Bill I can get Girls too! If memory serves, I had the temerity to speak to them at the door, and then I ushered them to a booth...
Zip I went to alert Bill to The two target's I had found. Bill was coming his thinning hair. He was the first guy I ever saw that used hair spray! But what the Hay! It worked for him.As my patience ran out , he was ready to meet the "Girls". Even though I was intoxicated one gave me her phone number...It must have been my Elvis imitation.
I think she couldn't believe I would call, and I didn't believe it was really her phone number.But it was and I did.Our first date was on New Years Eve. She was my Blond of The Year at a friends party, I always made an appearance at. I dressed for success in my three piece suit,and brought a corsage for her to ware, when I showed up at her end of the world house. I thought I drove so far following her directions that I must have missed her street?!!But lucky me , I turned into her street to make a U-Turn, and there was Windsor Circle , plain as mud... On our second date we saw a new movie at a downtown theater. Don't you know it was "Romeo and Juliet". Margie set up a kind of birthday dinner party(my 28th), with Bill and the other girl at a fancy Sky Line Restaurant in center city . It was fun along the lines of " La Dulce Vita ".
As we both worked the evening shift, it was not easy to see each other as often as I began to want to. I have to tell you we had shared a small kiss only on New Years Eve to this time...One day I got this bright Idea . I could pick her up drive her to work,and then take her home after work? Well Margie thought it was a great idea at the time.I think we were going to watch Johny Carson at her parents house or something...I cant remember exactly... Okay, So I dropped her off out side of Jefferson Hospital , right where I was to retrieve her at 11:15 or so.
As I left her on the side walk, the Winter sun was making vision difficult through the messy windshield . But I definitely remembered the three brass pawn shop balls , over head to my left, and I knew the name of the street...
It all looked so different with the drizzly rain trickling down the buildings ,and these glasses seem to have been prescribed for some one else, because I can't see what I'm looking for... Brass balls aren't so visible without sunshine! No wonder that Cops looking at me funny , I've circled these couple of blocks more than a dozen times ! Where can that entrance be?!!The only thing I can do is get out and walk, if I can just find a place to park! At least it's not raining hard now that I have circled twice around the two or three blocks of Jeff. Look at the time ! She must have called her father to pick her up by now , and she's probably at home now cussing me out... Theres a phone booth, I'll call and try to explain...As her father answered , I put the phone down gently,all at once realizing I wasn't brave enough to tell Margie's father I had failed her ... I can't give up , I'll go around again. Say is that a real Gypsy woman in a night gown gesturing for me to come inside? Wait, I did not see this indentation area of the buildings before, did I ? Theres glass doors! And theres Margie !! But she is smiling! Smiling with bright happy eyes ! She is smiling with the eyes of trust!! Yes, I can see that she believes in me!
That's when I fell in love ! For sure and forever !!

Margie & Ray

What about the " S " Word ?

2007-09-23T09:39:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows you can't use the " N " word with out risking riots in response or at the very least, a bad outcome. And of course the use of coarse language in a hurtful manor is always uncivilized.Personally since becoming an adult , I try to avoid crude language as a matter of self respect.
I am fond of language, especially the semantics of the English Language, as spoken in America. Portuguese Navigators of The Fifteenth Century purchased slaves from Islamic dealers in Nigeria. The people so sold were Niger's from inland Nigeria. So it would seem that that's where The " N " Word stems from.
The latest hullabaloo,that has come to my attention is all about The " B " Word ! Some women are more sensitive to it than others. And their ire, or lack there of seems to be predicated on two indicators. They are which gender is doing the talking , and is the race and speaker the same , or different?
Now we all know it's perfectly fine to use the " B " word, as long as your talking about the better half of the Canine World. But even then, one usually is very careful in polite company.....
Then there's the " F " Word. No! Not that one!! No, I'm talking about the one I cautiously looked up in my older brother's dictionary,when I was around twelve years old. Low and behold, there it was! The Dictionary's given meaning mystified me... I couldn't figure out why the guys at my newly attended public middle school, would throw the word out with such knowing bravado? The Dictionary said it meant" A bundle of dried sticks prepared for burning. " What?!!
Now days I am mystified by a new derogatory word . Apparently it can be used to malign any person, place,thing or situation...The "S"Word is " S U C K S " . As in " Well that sucks . " I know I started hearing it used in common language a few years ago. I think? But now I hear it used on sit-comms on TV prime time. As an amateur semanticist it unnerves me mightily, to not have a complete understanding of the word as used in the English Language.
As one that shays away from crude language, except in very unusual circumstances, I don't know if I want to use this derogatory word ; or is it a euphemism ? After all, Sucks What ?!! Is it now bad, for instance to suck on a soda straw?If the vacuum cleaner sucks up the dirt, is that not good? I guess if a white tornado came into my laundry and sucked the dirt out of my clothes...Or was that Mr. Clean ? Well anyway you must catch my drift.....

Say next time let's talk about The " G " Word ! You know the one. It used to have a very pleasant connotation...I can think of at least one very popular Christmas song that it was contained in, and it's a synonym for happiness, right? I really strongly resent it being co opted in modern times.....

" I'm smart ! I can think of something !! "

2007-09-20T13:44:00.000-07:00

It was a bleak, Saturday night in February.The kind of night you think about thanking God,for your cozy home, be it ever so humble. But then you forget about it and just see what's on the tube,after you light up a Winston,"Tastes good, like a cigarette should!" I know it's late,but the baby is finally sleeping good and I don't have to work Sunday... Let me just look out front first,to see how much snow has come down so far? Boy! It looks like 3 or 4 inches already... I hope Marge doesn't have a terrible time getting home in the morning. Well this must be " Casa Blanca ". Humphrey Bogart Movies are always good, even if you only have a black and white T.V. It always seems odd, how in those heroic times everybody and their brother smoked at least three packs of non-filtered a day! Like now, as I'm watching the last half hour of the North African White House, he's got his " Zippo " fired up again! And that reminds me it's " Light up Time " for Ray too...The shirt I have on has two breast pockets, Pretty fancy eh? So with the flat of each hand I slap each one three times in staccato fashion.No crinkly lump greets my sensitive 32 year old fingers? Oh theres my smokes over there on the coffee table.Phew! For a moment there, panic had griped my spine.Okay, I'll just get one...Thunderation!!! This package is empty! Regret swept over me for coming up with the plan to limit my smoking by, buying one pack at a time.But after all,I was a supervisor of Respiratory Therapy at The University of Pennsylvania Hospital.And of course I was witness every day to the long list of horrors that smoking led to... But I need a cigarette Now!!! I know there must be a butt,or two around the house somewhere?It was true...Only Marge had dumped the ash trays, before she went to work, in the garbage!Come on! I'm smart, I can think of something? ..... I can't go anywhere because of the baby...Think! Wait , out in the car... I remember;last Summer Margie was driving, and I was in the back seat, I can't remember why, but I think I put out almost a whole one in the rear ash tray!Wow! Coat and boots will be needed to wade through that 5 or 6 inches of snow...I better bring a broom to,to push the accumulation off the top of the rear door...Now,to ease that metal hatch open,and see if I'm saved? Yes!It is a long one !! Now to carefully,tenderly place it into my flapped coat pocket,and make my way back to the warmth of The White House on Redford Road. Once inside breathing on and through my only avenue of a return to calm, re humidified it enough to almost straighten it out... As I gratefully lit up,the thought crashed through my mind that "I better go right to bed now, and then I can get some more in the morning..." Looking back on my panic on Monday morning, I came to the realization that smoking was not a habit for me. No! It was an addiction...Nine months later my wonderful son was five months old, and I realized if I didn't quit smoking, I would never see him grow up. After all I had my first Heart Attack at twenty six! And after five months of No Smoking I had felt like Superman! So, for a couple of reasons I started again...But this time I'm going on"The Five year Plan". That's right!I would be lying to myself if I just said " I'm never going to smoke again!".So I won't do that. What I'll do is stop smoking for five finite years. And then my body will have healed enough to smoke again! And Live!So Monday morning I did not light up before I started the car, on the way to work.That was the beginning of the Thanks Giving Holiday week.I was off on the holiday and with the In Laws over and all, I almost relapsed. By the Next Monday though,people at work started saying that they weren't sure it was me, because there was no cigarette in the middle of my face...For the next three or four months I simply went crazy for a time , and then I discovered I had a whole new personality inside, that I didn't know...After just one year I stopped dreaming about cigarettes, and I found I could even have a couple of beers without looking for one.The truth is though once an Addict always an Addict. Say, is that your Zippo ?

" Oh , I'll just have a salad..."

2007-09-15T13:34:00.001-07:00

A salad?!! In 1950 I was ten years old.My sainted mother had reached her fiftieth year and she was raising her seventh child, an after thought, a replacement son? She and my strong,stoic father had lost their blond, blue eyed wonder kind to Carcinoma amidst the Great Depression of the 1930's... Although I was not blond , or for that matter perfect at birth,they gave me love and sustenance enough to grow to average height for the age.....Our family was the kind of "Meat and potatoes" type , you may have heard of in the past. And as I recall,a lot of it was boiled... Even Chicken! In the summer of 1956,I tasted " Southern Fried Chicken" for the first time.My girl friends mother didn't seem to mind that I was such a pig!...My Mom liked to grow vegetables and one year strawberries,in our swath of green behind our post WWII tiny tract house.I had the honor of making sure that all were well watered as needed.She grew some mighty fine tomatoes , as well as String Beans, ( and in those days , they really had strings...).String Beans are a green vegetable that I loved then and now,albeit I detested Tomatoes then,and still do.Everyone else on the face of the earth loved tomatoes!Or, so I thought for many years...As a young boy,in a world of tomato worshipers,I dreamed of fitting in.So, toward each summers swan song, usually in the evening after diner, I would hide with a big red tomato!After gathering the courage of my convictions, I would take a big bite! And Wow!! It was always the same! Ugh!! Pew ! Spit! Spit!! No more of that!Ever!! Once in awhile I recall my parents having Lettuce,and maybe some fresh sliced onion in a sand which, and I shied away from onions too.What I don't remember at our dinner table was a salad bowl.....When I was sixteen my best friend was Bob. Bob was the eldest son of in retrospect , a classic Southern Italian family.His father was the best Carpenter since Joseph.But I learned he was a person who was a master of all construction trades and skills .In the summer I spent so much time in and around Bob's house you would have thought that I had rented a room there.Consequently, on one very hot August evening , I saw Bob's Father( Yes, his name was Anthony, and no one called him "Tony", ever!)without his shirt on. I was shocked!I could not believe my young, myopic eyes! His 40 something year old chest and arm's looked like an Anatomical Figure in a Biology book I had gotten a hold of !! He was wiry of course, a man of small stature,but every single muscle group could have been pointed to by an Anatomist,without lifting the skin off! The real surprise was to come when he set about fixing himself a little dinner... You must know it had to start with a salad, or at least now I know it was a salad.He started by putting what seemed like a half a head of lettuce in a commodious bowl.Then a couple of tomatoes,pieces of onion,and sliced cucumbers. At least that's all I can remember. After that came a half of a roasted chicken, some sausage, and I don't know what all, but there must have been bread too.Strangely enough , he did not wash it down with wine, but instead Rolling Rock beer...Tempis fugit,I awoke with my nose in something cool and wet? I was to come to find out it was French dressing.Apparently a night of under age drinking had wound up in a restaurant that was open until Three... Sunny Miller, The Golden Gloves Champ from Kentucky,remembered that just as the harried waitress slid the wooden bowl in front of me,I was suddenly not awake! Memory fails me , but I don't think I ate the lettuce.Even though in later years I came to enjoy Americas favorite " French Dressing ". Still immature in many ways that kept me an adolescent at twenty six,I found myself on a "blind date".An older woman ( maybe 45 )was a neighbor who I exchanged an occasional anecdote with and comments on the weather, Told me more than once that I should meet Rachelle...My small friendship with the neighbor lady was such a bright spot in my lonely life that reinforcement of the relationship was a prime goal for me.She was a school teacher and had also done extensive volunteer work with The Red Cross,which she was very proud of.So a date was planned.Her sister met me at the door and as red flags waved in my head,I thought "Whoa!! Way too young!".Then Rachelle pranced into the room Ala Loretta Young! I was relieved and stunned at the same time!She was the picture of youth full confidence and poise , not to mention her red hair.On the way to the restaurant she spoke of studying the Real Estate field, and how she was soon to be off to California to make her fortune.The word sophisticate rolled around my mind as we were seated in the best restaurant in Asburry Park,New Jersey.As she scanned the menu,I prayed she would not order something to break my bank.So I almost sighed aloud when she said " Oh! I'll just have a salad ".And I thought a salad?! That must be how she keeps such a pert and dandy figure...Yes,she told the waiter"I'll just have the Turkey Salad." When we were served, for the first time in my life I became aware of what the modern salad had become! First off it arrived on an eight inch platter, such as you might see displayed with pride in someones home at Thanks Giving!And nestled in the midst of three kinds of lettuce,sliced radishes,onions,green and red peppers,mushrooms, sliced tomato's,and I don't know what all, was half of a chopped up turkey!!! Just a salad?!!

The Battle Hymn of The Republc !!!

2007-09-11T11:54:00.000-07:00

Spain was interesting and at times wondrous, however as Marge and I lifted off from Madrid, I thought "well okay, but once will be enough." As I recall we shared two window seats , and there was no one to our right, even though the plane seemed a little more than half full. I mused that more than half of the passengers were foreigners... Then I vaguely remembered that I was at present"The Foreigner". Marge was feeling what I assumed was a petite malaise due to a poor night's sleep and her usual onus of getting the two of us on the plane... Thanks to my special flying ear plugs, my ears seemed okay at our traveling altitude , and I took them out. I found that I could hear unusually well under the circumstances. While in Spain , I had purchased a slim paperback book on Spain's History, from Roman Iberian times , up to 1999 . In about two and a half hours, I had consumed it, and I was settling into the boredom of plane travel..... As we were no where near land, I was amazed to hear The Pilot's strangely pitched, solemn voice speaking directly to me... He was saying something about an attack on The World Trade Center in New York ! And that we would be returning to Madrid !! What he said woke me from my air plane dullness , and Marge and I began to try to comprehend what was happening. Of course our first thoughts were for the safety of each other, and how our immediate future would play out ?!! Then in about twenty minutes a stewardess, who seemed to be about Marge's age, approached us with some long pieces of paper that at first glance looked like inked toilette paper. She explained that they were faxes, from New York . They actually showed the buildings in smoke and one in the falling down process. It was then that the enormity of what was taking place struck me like a knife in the guts! A blind rage , such as I had never experienced , filled my entire being. Vengeance !!! What ever country that did this should have a terrible storm of Neutron weapons rain down on them now!!! They should all die quickly! A middle aged, American, female passenger called out that maybe we should pray? In a loud voice I responded," We ought to sing "The Battle Hymn of The Republic!" Of course I was thinking of the lines " He is trampling out the grapes of wrath..." and something about " His terrible swift sword !"; The sword being The U.S. Air Force! ...... After what seemed like a half day,we landed under the gloomy , evening sky of Madrid's air port. While still on the plane, I had felt very far removed from the turmoil at home, That all changed as we came down the stairs to the tarmac, and microphones were shoved at us. For the question "How do you feel ?"I had one reply; It was " Angry !!! " Then we were loaded onto a bus for a trip to a suburban Madrid Hotel. The Hotel personnel received us in a professional manor , albeit they seemed vaguely ambivalent as to how they should respond to our presence...The Hotel seemed to be attached to a golf course and it was like a place to have a wedding reception, a gala, or maybe a nice long weekend getaway with your Honey . After we and our bags got into our room, we freshened up a little and Marge tried to call home . That wasn't working , so we went down to the very nice buffet ( Free) in the Hotel Dining room. We spoke to two or three people from the plane , and no one really knew much... Exhausted by the days events, we went to bed early murmuring comforting supportive words to each other, and soon enough the dawn awakened each of us. A sheet of paper had been pushed under the door . The Hotel informed us that breakfast had been paid for , but after check out time , The Air Line would be paying no further cost of our stay..... Marge was suffering obvious flu like symptoms by then, but that did not stop her from securing our room, and finally communicating with Stephanie at home.The T.V. in Our room got the BBC station on it and for at least 24 hours , all that seemed to be were planes flying into buildings and buildings falling down ... On the plane there was very little sympathy expressed for America , and only a little was extant in Spain . In retrospect when the Airline stopped paying our hotel bill, it would have been better if we had dragged our bags back to the nice center city hotel that we had occupied before. Because I believe the phone service , Air port Limo , and other amenities would have been much better for our needs there. As in when I drank all of the orange juice and so did not get sick( It was Sunday afternoon and the store where I got was closed), and Marge got sicker! In center city, I remember a 7/11 type place, where I could have gotten enough for a swim.So, each day hence, Marge struggled with bad phone connections , when she could get through to see when we could get a flight home . For a few days it was uncertain if any U.S.Air would ever fly again, or for that matter any Air Line.....After about the fifth day , Marge felt a little better, and as she saw I was going stir crazy, she suggested we tour The Prado Museum? Almost reluctantly , I agreed, and we got a cab. Marge seemed to enjoy the museum as did I. However I think she grew faint towards the end from her cold and the cold remedies... I think it was the next day that we struggled to The Madrid Airport once again to find that a flight to America was not going to be as easy as in the past... Our first clue was in the attitude of the female clerk at the check in counter... Gone was the cheery Hello ! Now it was a don't dare push me tone , after they opened up late ! After at least a three hour wait we were able to get packed in like the proverbial sardines... The worst part of our second time in Spain was the thought that I was not at home in my beloved country to help bind it's fresh wounds, and to have my neighbors unable to hear my call for justice !!! ...... I will never return to Spain ...

Capricorn Rite: The Blog of Raymond D. Franke

2007-09-02T15:41:00.000-07:00

Capricorn Rite: The Blog of Raymond D. Franke

George Washington wouldn't do it ...

2007-09-02T14:45:00.000-07:00

The great man who was our real first President of the U.S.A.,did not want to be king, nor did he want to be President for life.History says that he declined both scenarios...After The President Roosevelt of Dime fame passed on to his glory, our nation decided " Two Terms in Office and your done ( for The President )". And it seems fair,that a person should be able to get some good done in eight years, or give someone else a turn at bat... From what little American History I know , it seems to me that the founding fathers never figured on anyone becoming a Senator , or Congressman for the rest of their unnatural life ! Like the 100 year old Strom Thurmond still in the Senate! Now,I have nothing bad to say about Old People, because I am one;But let"s say you became a Senator at the dynamic age of 50 , by 60 years of age One should have been able to accomplish something for your Nation. And then it would be a good time to return to running your business, or maybe running for Governor of your state,et cetera. The same idea would bring a strong wind of fresh air to congress.Perhaps no more than four years at a time.I'm sure a great deal of boondoggle spending could be avoided,if all of The federal elect tees weren't worried first and foremost about getting reelected 24/7! Also , there is the concept that it some how seems worse that when some one gets caught with their hand in the cookie jar, that you have to admit that you voted for them seven times!!! Not just once or twice! When this Great Nation got off the ground , the Only Federal branch Officers who were supposed to be in office for life were The supreme court justices !!!

Stoic no more ...

2007-08-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

My father was a stoic.In his work at the Philadelphia Naval yard , where he worked building and repairing naval vessels in war and peace time , he often suffered cuts , burns , and slivers of steel into his hands ... I know because I saw him treating his injuries, often at the kitchen table during the 1950's. I think that's how I learned that you don't go to Doctor's , unless the pain is so bad you can't stand up, or the bleeding just won't stop.The first treatment of myself that I recall was using a sewing needle to pry a pyramid shaped piece of clear glass out of a finger, where it had become lodged.Actually I was so entranced by what I was doing, I don't think it really hurt.When the local Doc came to our house, after tetanus set in after stepping on a nail, and keeping it to myself; Well that was some real pain when he carved out the wound twice without anesthetic. I clearly remember him saying "you can scream all you want , But don't move " , and I did scream loud and plenty ! But of course , as instructed , I did not move ... I remember smashing my forehead into concrete, on at least three separate occasions before I was eight years old , and there could have been more, that I have finally forgotten... That's a kind of pain that is in a distinct category , all by it's self.Around eleven or twelve I flew over the handle bars of my one new bike , and not wanting to hear that brain slosh sound again ( I fear it even now ), I stuck my arm out to fend off the street from my head, and sure enough it broke.A nice clean, straight across fracture of my right radius. The two U-turns at Chestnut Hill hospital suggested " Anesthesia will make you too sick to eat dinner, so you don' need it right? ". It only took about fifteen seconds to set the bone , but that was the worst pain a human being can feel. My whole existence turned into an exceedingly bright light , and the light was all total pain...I was introduced to Migraine on or about my twenty first birthday . They got worse until I was about 48 and then they eased off to,Oh no! Here we go again ! I remember almost breaking into tears, when I was about 32 , and I knew one was coming . Some women have indicated that they are similar to the pain of child birth , only the baby (in my case)was coming out of behind my left eye ! Once I recall getting a round about codeine capsule , and I was so happy to be spared (Just Once, until then ). The bottom line is over the years I had learned to accept pain without cursing or making loud noises... For instance , I trained myself to yell " God Bless America!!! " if I hit my thumb with a hammer. And as I often got severely pulled muscles, and back strains at work, as long as I could stand , or use the other arm , I would just keep smiling , with my nose to the grind stone.Of course that is by no means a complete list of my physical agonies ,and none were so bad or frequent as my psychological injuries. No more will I hide my pain . That's one reason I knew it was time to leave the work place.I felt a sense of honesty overwhelming me.I began to feel like screaming a demonstration of how I felt about the pain inflicted on me, be it physical or mental! I could be" Stoic No More!" And you must know , you can't walk around telling the truth , without risking your own crucifixion! Honesty had finally got the best of me! Now I find that I am a stranger , in a strange land.....

Life Styles of The Retired and Infamous

2007-08-22T13:50:00.000-07:00

As a Teenager,I remember at the beginning of Summer diving into the cold water of a swimming pool, not yet warmed up by the June Sun . There was always that hopeful thought that , if I just hold on , I'll get used to it pretty quick ! Retirement was a lot like that...Except at first , I could not see much to hold on to ! There was no more fat pay check , no more minor wielding of authority , no more scheduled work periods,no more ego support from people who were glad you showed up to get their back ... In six months though it came to me that, now I did not have to vie for holidays off , and I would be off every weekend;in fact every day would be a Holiday! Lucky for me I have two great Grand Kids to take my mind off resting fairly regularly .And I can mow my own lawn again , which saves a tidy sum each summer. Of course any work or chore to be done around the house now days must be accomplished in a ritual manor . First there is the careful planning. Then comes the preparation stage.Then of course I can't start until the moment is right, energy and weather wise... I'm still generally an early riser, but I move slowly for the first twenty minutes or so.I don't want to rush into anything , so first I put on the T.V., right after I let the dog out. I am curious as to how the world is getting along without me and I like to check out the DOW futures are . The main thing I keep in mind is " I'm in no hurry ". Life in the after life is good...

Why has President Bush not been impeached yet ?

2007-08-20T11:07:00.000-07:00

The Demoncrats have put the bad mouth on President Bush since before he took the oath of office. When JFK squeaked by Nixon by a suspicious hair in Illinois , The Future President Nixon didn't scream " I was robbed ! " , as he very honestly could have . Nor did the Republican party run around screaming the Demoncrats cheated ! When President Nixon got his turn at bat , he did get us out of Vietnam and he started The U.S. down the road of peaceful relations with the most populous nation on earth, China . He also kept our military strong enough to fend off communist Russia , and of course we had plenty of cheap gasoline to put in our muscle cars... During the Clinton Demoncratic administration , The Towers in new York were bombed, We had Waco , Ruby Ridge, A U.S. Naval Vessel was almost sunk in the middle east , one of our Embassies in Africa was blown up and of course their was the blue dress girl in the oval office! But the Demoncrat's didn't blame Clinton for every three wheeler that went off the curb ! Aw shucks ! That could happen to any President ?!! The most amazing idea I ever heard is G.Bush is some how responsible for 9 /11 ?!! On that date and time , my wife and I were on an airplane , that had to make a U turn half way across the Atlantic Ocean, to return to Spain , where we had been touring... Hardship was in the offing , but that's another story. But what really gauls me is how the Demoncrats used the screw ups of the Mayor of New Orleans, and the governor of Louisiana to Blame President Bush for the results of an Act of God , that they weren't prepared for. Sic : All of those "Poor People " could have been evacuated before the storm hit , in one of those thousand school buses , seen in parking lots , up to there windshields in water, after the storm... Never forget, Hurricanes don't just show up one morning,and go Boo! Nowadays , it is widely known three to five days before they get here !!! The Demoncrats say George Bush has done so many evil and illegal things . Why in the wide world have they not impeached him yet?!! It's simple ! It's because they are liars, without any proof for their fabrications and innuendos ! Now is the time for me to stop before my head explodes !

Politicians and lower gasoline prices

2007-08-17T12:13:00.000-07:00

Both major political parties are having debates and Big speech making opportunities, as of late.They all want to let us know what their going to do about abortion , Iraq, the environment, free health care for illegal aliens , and aliens from mars ! What they never want to talk about is how they could greatly help almost every single American profoundly ! And without breaking the Government Bank ! Now as a preamble let me just say " I remember when , I thought a Dollar a gallon for gasoline was outrageous ! ". Like everything else, the cost of gasoline , and Home Heating Oil, ( Same as Diesel fuel) is predicated on " Supply and Demand ". We all know where the demand is ...What few people know is the Supply is squeezed out of too few Oil Refineries !!! Look at it like this if overnight we had a surplus of oil , that would not automatically mean cheap gasoline . No that oil has to be r e f i n e d , and that's going to take awhile at our too few refineries . Say when did they build a new refinery in the USA ? How about 30 years ago ! So , if a refinery in California has a fire and goes off line... Supply goes down , costs go up! And not just in California , but in Pennsylvania too! Some oil (like from South America) is so thick , not every refinery can crack it... Okay, What can those running for president do ? Well it's my understanding that Oil Companies can only build a new refinery with the Permission/ License of the Federal Government...So each presidential candidate should be asked on one of those TV wingdings if they will swear to strive to get ten new refineries built in the USA in the next five years , if elected ? Then we could hold their feet to the fire for that treasured second term! Also , that alcohol/gasoline made from corn is stupid ! Because the fuel would cost more to the consumer in the end , and it's already driving up food prices throughout the Western Hemisphere . Not to mention that there is plenty of oil off of our coast's , and in Reindeer Land , if the Tree Huggers would just let us get at it !!! Speaking of Huggers , How about if Chappaquidick Ted would allow some energy company to put up some nice Green Energy Producing Wind Mills in his back yard ?!! Teddy has already said "No way Josie !" Now every one who could live better with less expensive gasoline raise your hand. Mine's up !.....