God and I have this great relationship. At least I think we do … it seems to work from my standpoint, I hope it does from His. Organized religion and I never quite hit it off and even during advancing seniorhood I still consider myself ‘in recovery’. Any flirtation with religious formality ended with the last of my innocence when, what I needed was good advice about a bad marriage, but received instead only tongue-lashings and platitudes from every religious person I knew … including my Mom who makes even holy men look like their halos need a brisk buffing with Brasso.

Rather than concrete and stone, my cathedral lies in the embrace of towering trees and singing birds or falling snow, where I can clear my head and enjoy a more direct communion with the one who makes it all possible. While I remain a Christian, I quickly lose patience with Read the rest of this entry

God and I have this great relationship. At least I think we do … it seems to work from my standpoint, I hope it does from His. Organized religion and I never quite hit it off and even during advancing seniorhood I still consider myself ‘in recovery’. Any flirtation with religious formality ended with the last of my innocence when, what I needed was good advice about a bad marriage, but received instead only tongue-lashings and platitudes from every religious person I knew … including my Mom who makes even holy men look like their halos need a brisk buffing with Brasso.

Rather than concrete and stone, my cathedral lies in the embrace of towering trees and singing birds or falling snow, where I can clear my head and enjoy a more direct communion with the one who makes it all possible. While I remain a Christian, I quickly lose patience with anyone who tries to cram their belief system down my throat or would do harm to those not sharing their own archaic philosophies. Everyone has a chink in their armor and I’d like to think the fatal flaw of such people lies in their mistaking tolerance for weakness. Maybe I don’t wear my religion on my sleeve, but I really like wishing people “Merry Christmas and Happy Easter.”

Easter is one of the most significant holy days on the Christian calendar, although most kids would tell you it’s about chocolate bunnies, colored eggs and marshmallow chicks. When I was a kid, the Easter Bunny was second only to Santa Claus in importance. Waking up on Easter Sunday to a straw basket of sticky confections was nearly as much fun as walking in the park among the cherry blossoms with my best girl, once I grew old enough to realize there was something even sweeter than the stuff in my Easter basket.

I was probably no more than three or four but I clearly remember the obligatory visit to grandma’s house … watching my uncle Emil carefully craft dozens of  home-made ravioli on the large dining room table. He would roll a thin sheet of dough the size of the table, deposit clattering spoonfuls of ricotta row upon row, cover the entire ensemble with another table size sheet of dough and cut each little cheese-filled pocket with the moistened rim of a glass, tightly sealing the edges using the tines of a dinner fork. I suppose it was the influence of my Italian grandmother, but as lasagna had become our traditional Christmas meal, fresh ravioli with meatballs and sausage replaced the more typical Easter ham at our house.

Once the kiddie and culinary affectations are put aside, what remains is the resurrection of a Savior. Legend has it that the stone sealing Jesus’ tomb was mysteriously rolled aside and His followers found it empty. In the following forty days He made several appearances to His disciples before finally ascending into Heaven, and it is this sequence of events that provides the true meaning of the celebration.

Whether Jesus was really the Son of God or just a hugely successful prophet will probably be debated for as long there are Doubting Thomases to debate it. Two things that I know for certain are the powerful part religion has played in sustaining my Mother during her ninety-three long years and the importance of believing in something greater than one’s self … no matter who or what it is.

There are two more things that I strongly suspect. One is how personal and private most people’s religious convictions seem to be. The other is there will always be the species of moron that lines his hat with foil and runs around shouting “Woe is me, woe is me” … and is more than happy to rain all over the nearest parade. I pray to Him who looks upon what He has created from above and shakes His mighty head, that He will always see fit to provide us with a sturdy umbrella like the one I’ve enjoyed, so far, through all my years on this good earth.

HAPPY EASTER!

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.

When my kid brother was young, I mean still young enough to be a serious pest, he created several characters that he actually became when he played. One of them was a cowboy named “Pardner.” No, Roger wasn’t much flakier than any other little brother … in fact as an adult he became a fairly good actor. Anyway, that little kid was even more proud of his silvery six-gun than I was of my pair of Lone Ranger pearl-handled revolvers.

All the kids back then had toy guns and those who couldn’t afford to buy one made one. Mom’s broom handle with a nail in it for a trigger made a pretty nifty rifle. We could defend the fort against attacking Indians with a revolver if we had to, but you needed a rifle if you were going to protect the beaches against invading Nazis. None of these guns made a noise, mind you. The authentic exploding cartridge sound had to come from the kid himself. “Bang!” was for nerds who didn’t know what a gun should sound like. No real gun ever went, “Bang!” “TF-F-F-F-F!” was a favorite and “KH-H-H-H-H!” was a popular standby. Some guys could even do ricochets which were more like, “CHI-CHI-OH-N-N-N!” It was really a complicated sound and my friend Russ was the best at doing that one.

We had pretty active imaginations in those days. We needed them. Creativity meant kid survival. There were no Play Stations, cell phones, computers, DVDs or anything ‘techie’. We didn’t have television, so the only reality shows had to do with leaving the toilet seat up or getting a “C” in math. My point is, despite all the gunplay, horseplay and even the occasional fist fight, none of us turned out to be mass murderers, terrorists or bank robbers. In fact, most of us went on to become semi-model citizens. Some even honorably served our country … like Russ who was killed in Vietnam by a gun that made its own sound and fired real bullets. But that didn’t happen because he played with toy guns or developed a dark side due to dangerous childhood influences. It happened because some other guy loved his family and was passionate about defending the things he believed in, the same as my friend. He had no way of knowing that Russ was probably able to make that ricochet sound better than he could.

Forrest Gump said that “Stupid is as stupid does.” Enter State Rep. Scott Saiki, who is either a Gump disciple or has been spending too much time in the hot Hawaiian sun without a hat. Mr. Saiki is actually sponsoring a bill making it a crime to sell or offer a toy gun to a kid. If you break the ban, you get 90 days in jail and a hefty fine. Even more incredible, despite a complete lack of evidence indicating that toy guns turn kids into criminals or violent adults, some of his colleagues are actually listening to his gibberish … as are several legislators nursing their own neuroses in a couple of other states! It just seems to me that decisions like this are the responsibility of parents, not political bureaucrats.

Want some honest-to-goodness sources of violence? Take a look at the games, movies and T.V. shows kids are watching these days … graphic violence  ‘rules’! Even many of the popular commercials feature heavy doses of violence, and cartoons are downright brutal. Remember the fast-healing character who got blown up or walked off a cliff, only to come back just fine in the next scene to do it again? So what do we do, ban childhood … or is there just some insidious plot against squirt guns? Oh by the way, Hawaii wants to loosen its restrictions on marijuana, so if the legislators have their way,  it’ll be easier for a kid to get high than to get wet!

Rather than feeding some politician’s paranoia and turning guns, toy or otherwise, into a compelling mystery for kids maybe we should try teaching them how to responsibly exercise their Second Amendment rights. Paranoid may sometimes be good thinking but I’m afraid this isn’t one of those times. The Greeks wisely said, “Nothing in excess” … Forrest Gump already weighed in on the subject.

If producing violent adults is honestly our fear, the best bet might simply be to shut down the computer, toss away the Game Boy, pry the T.V. remote from a kid’s hand … and send him outside to defend the backyard, making the wild West safe for decent law-abiding citizens.

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.

To me, our National Anthem is many things: It’s the song that uniquely represents America, just as our flag is our enduring national symbol. It’ s supposed to be presented in a way that is inspiring, respectful and reverent … not rewritten as part of some here today-gone tomorrow entertainment act. If really well done, The Star Spangle Banner may bring a lump to your throat and even a tear to your eye. It is the embodiment of pride and persistence!

Last Sunday I settled down in front of my sixty inch hi-def widescreen T.V. for an evening of ear splitting, mind thumping commercials when, suddenly, a football game broke out! The exercise in excess, billed as the halftime show, featured a group of electronically wired people that resembled a short circuited pinball machine on steroids. They were named after a variety of ‘pea’, which may provide some insight as to why a lot of kids refuse to eat their vegetables.

But before any of this began, an awkward slightly bow-legged young lady perched herself in the middle of the field on a platform, and proceeded with an acoustical assault upon the above-mentioned composition by Francis Scott Key. The announcer said she had won five Grammy Awards for previous attempts at conjugating musical notes, which instantly rekindled a flood of memories about why I haven’t bothered to watch those presentations in more than twenty-five years.

I can’t imagine a bigger moment or better venue for a performer than singing our Nation Anthem in front of a worldwide audience at The Super Bowl. Nevertheless, here was this Christina Aguilera person not only messing up the melody, but focusing so hard on doing so, that she screwed up the words as well. “What so proudly we watched, at the twilight’s last streaming” was, to my knowledge, not one of the visions beheld by Mr. Key as he sat in his precariously positioned prison cell. Do they audition people for such a multi-million dollar extravaganza or simply ask for a show of hands as to who wants to do the Star Spangled Banner this year, and just pick somebody? By the way, why doesn’t EVERYONE know the words and the history behind this song?

Older folks often find fault with a lot of things that just aren’t the same anymore and I’m no exception. Change, you know? It may be the only constant we can count on but, sometimes, it’s not easy to make certain adjustments. I can put up with bigger wrappers and smaller chocolate bars, tooth jell instead of tooth paste, and cars that measure power in  liters instead of cubic inches [I'm still working on those new, curly-fry light bulbs]. But when it comes to disappearing traditions, especially those affecting the texture and fabric of my country, about the best I can do is dig my heels in and say, “Enough already. Look behind you … the line is back there.”

A few years ago, I saw an old baseball movie about the minor leagues called “Long Gone”. It opened with a sort of flashy femme fatale who removed her chewing gum just before singing a nearly on-key version of our National Anthem … then placed the gum back into her mouth when she was finished and jiggled her way off the field. End act one, scene one. Even the tootsie’s rendition was more respectful. I liked it better.

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.

For the innocent, Halloween is witches ‘n pumpkins, ghosts ‘n goblins, black cats and tricks or treats. For the humorless, it’s a time of evil … a celebration of the occult culminated by a Devil’s Night. That’s the same crowd who would tell a kid there is no Santa Claus … never realizing his true identity.

Charlie Brown believes that “The Great Pumpkin” will rise from the pumpkin patch and fly through the air, bringing presents to all good little boys and girls. Of course, Chuck is also the one who always falls for Lucy’s football trick and lands on his back when she pulls it away. He may have his holidays a little mixed up but, all things considered, I think he captures the right spirit.

For me, Halloween is the gateway holiday. It heralds the start of the most wonderful time of year, where Thanksgiving is the ‘top of the stretch’ and Christmas is the finish line. Substitute Hanukkah for Christmas where my Jewish friends are concerned, and toss a handful of lesser holidays into the blender to whip up a hefty helping of political correctness for the rest. I simply don’t celebrate everything … but, unlike those who seem to be missing the bone in their head that says “Other people are entitled to have different beliefs than you,” I don’t feel offended by anyone expressing those beliefs. I purposely left out New Years because that’s a holiday geared mostly toward grownups, and I’ve been trying to avoid that condition for years!

Kids bring holidays to life. When our crew was home, Vigi somehow always managed to make a special day into an entire season … even birthdays. So from Halloween on, we had seasons within seasons! While I still enjoy turning a pumpkin into a jack-o’-lantern, I’m afraid my costume donning days came to a screeching, grinding halt with the Gorilla suit. Without going into eye-glazing detail, suffice to say that it was a hit at the party, a riot in traffic and ‘Jungle Jane’ was a tad bulkier than I thought as I attempted to carry her through the door. Your imagination can do the rest.

When I was an actual kid, I dressed up as everything from a cowboy to a clown … a monster to my own sister. Mom’s shoes even fit me for a few years and a ‘babushka’ covered my short hair instead of a wig. I completely abused grapefruits! I did the usual door-to-door thing but, somehow, could never bring myself to say “Trick or treat!” It was always, “Anything for Halloween?” I think one old curmudgeon on the block was a Socialist, because he used to take candy out of my bag and give it to the next kid. Mr. Kreitzer notwithstanding, Halloween was a blast!

Then something in our society changed. The wholesomeness disappeared. It was the old story of a few spoiling it for everyone else … probably part of the “Santa is dead” crowd. One day there were rumors of razor blades in apples; then they weren’t rumors anymore. By the time my kids were ready for trick or treating, sickos were actually poisoning candy … parents started buying treats for their own kids and keeping them home. It eliminated both liability for the adults and danger for the children, all in one fell swoop. Some parents staged private parties but it just wasn’t the same. So much for one of the great joys of kidhood.

I’m not exactly sure what they do for Halloween anymore. We live at the top of a very long, very steep, wooded driveway … the perfect setting for hidden ghosts and goblins. But in seven years we’ve never had a kid haunt our doorstep. I have an electronic doorbell that I program with spooky sounds and still put out the pumpkin. I refuse to give it up, completely. My memories are too good to waste and Halloween will always mean the beginning of all those magical holidays.

Besides, no matter what the changes, in my heart I’ll always know my Dad really was the strongest guy on the block, Superman really can fly and Santa Claus is not only alive and well … but he is me!

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.

I’ve been told that when I retire I need to ‘reinvent’ myself. The recommendation would seem to imply that, somehow, I was invented in the first place, like a lightbulb or a washing machine. Actually, there are several life-changing situations for which I was given the same advice. At least, that’s what they say I should do.

Without intending to offend the ever-elusive theysayers in the crowd, let me state in no uncertain terms that, to the best of my knowledge, I was not invented … nor did I suddenly appear in a puff of smoke or under a cabbage leaf in my Father’s vegetable garden. As intriguing as those explanations may be, the fact is I simply evolved … the product of two terrific parents on one hand and the corrupt influence of a generally dysfunctional society on the other. No more, no less.

Furthermore, that evolution has taken more than half a century and I fail to see how any meaningful adjustments are going to be made overnight. Because the engine is chugging a little going up a hill, it doesn’t make sense to me to drive the whole thing off a cliff and get a new car! Maybe it makes more sense to just pull over to the side of the road and fix the engine … especially if you’re comfortable with the butt marks you’ve worn into the seat.

The problem is that somewhere between the cliff and “Hand me the 1/2 inch wrench,” guys who have defined themselves by their occupation most of their lives often find themselves with no place to be. They either start feeling like the proverbial man without a country, or they go back to some kind of job where they work as hard as ever but without getting paid for it. This is usually referred to as volunteering. But what happened to retirement? I don’t know if women run into something similar but there are a lot of older ladies out there not collecting wages for a lifetime of expertise! If that’s reinventing yourself, you can keep it!

My Dad was one of the guys who drove his car off the cliff and walked home. His company pastured him out at 65 and he managed to stay completely inactive until he was 80. I remember trying to urge him to “get out and do something,” only to be met with a tirade about how hard he worked all of his life and how he had “earned this”… as he dozed off again in his recliner behind his Newark Star Ledger. He may have been the poster boy for what not to do … but for the first time in my life, I understand what he must have been feeling.

The fact is, I believe that given the option, most people would rather continue working [and earning wages] than retire under the circumstances most of us finally learn to accept. There’s a vast wealth of experience and great talent going to waste because of the myopic vision of the generation running things today. Oh sure, we might not be as fast as we once were and maybe most of us can only multi-task to the tune of three or four things at once, instead of ten … but the quality difference outweighs any quantity difference by immeasurable amounts.

Looking back, I have come to realize that the battles were more exciting than winning the war … the journey more fun than arriving at my destination. Time and energy, or what I’ve dubbed ‘tenergy’, has become too limited to begin new battles or undertake new journeys of any consequence. I don’t have the definitive answer yet, but it’s coming along … and I know it has more to do with repair than reinvention.

I suppose, in some ways, I’m still waiting for my ship to come in … although she’s moving more slowly now with all those barnacles on her bottom. I only hope that when she does, I’m not either stumbling around out at the airport or busy being keelhauled, instead of greeting her with warm, welcoming arms from the dock!

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.

I’m not sure people know what friendship is anymore. For my money, most of them use the term so casually that it loses all meaning. Social networking websites see a friend as anyone who visits their site and clicks on a certain box. For T.V. and radio hosts it’s pretty much anyone that watches, listens or calls in.

To me, a friendship is much more than that and is just as complex as any other relationship. Despite this complexity, my favorite definition is a simple one: A friend is someone who will laugh at your jokes when they’re not so good and listen to your troubles when they’re not so bad. I would hasten to add that it’s also important to walk through some kind of fire together, to cement your common bonds.

I’ve had only five people in my life that I’ve considered worthy of wearing the title ‘Friend’ … and I’m fortunate enough to still be in touch with four of them. The funny thing is, while I am friends with all of them, they are so diverse that none of them could ever be friends with each other!

Vigi actually knows who I’m on the phone with according to my speech mannerisms. Apparently, I adopt the appropriate communication style for the conversation … something I wasn’t even aware of until she pointed it out. It’s not a matter of being forced or phony, just flexible. I suppose it’s an ability that even merits a certain amount of pride.

Of the group, one is primarily a friend of longevity who is more formal than the rest, therefore our conversations tend to take on a more serious tone. I’ve always had the utmost respect for him and he has earned it, among other ways, by keeping my tendencies toward ‘over-the-topness’ grounded in reality. Another likes structure and almost always needs a specific topic for discussion … he even shows up with one when he visits. For him, life will always be a college debate. If Veege is within earshot of a political rant or hears musings about the location of human consciousness, she always knows the identity of the other culprit.

The bond with my third ‘bud’ is based almost purely on chemistry and we’ve walked through a lot of fire together. When we talk, we simply shoot the sh**, as we call it. Anything is fair game and we leap from subject to subject with the grace of a gazelle but stumble through a half-century of memories with all the poise of an Abbott and Costello routine … we usually both wind up on first!

My fourth friend is, in many ways, a combination of the first three. We exist somewhat at a distance but are joined at the soul. I don’t see him very often, we don’t talk much on the phone but we’ve always kept in close contact. When we do have a phone conversation, it scrambles Vigi’s radar … maybe it’s the blend of communication styles or perhaps she just doesn’t get enough practice hearing us.

In case you’re wondering, the fifth guy bailed out of our relationship after a relatively few years, around the time of my divorce. His wife was particularly close with my ‘ex’ and I guess, when it comes to heroes and villains, it was easier to switch than fight [to paraphrase an old cigarette commercial]. Maybe he wasn’t really a friend in the first place but I’ll always be grateful that our lives crossed paths and count him as one anyway.

Like anyone else, I’ve had hundreds of acquaintances in my lifetime but I have no known friends on any radio station or website, regardless of what their counters say. None of us have even met … and it’s too late for Veege to learn my conversation style with them if we did! What I do have are these four great guys, most of whom I’ve accompanied through the fire, and I’d gladly walk through it with any of them again.

Listen to Bananas Crackers and Nuts Podcast. Find Links under “Recent Podcasts”… and more shows on my Podcast Page.