A Retro New Year

We started our New Year's Eve with Artie Shaw's “Any Old Time,” smoothly transitioning to “Rosalie” followed by “Deep Purple” and more from our CD of “The Best of Artie Shaw.”

Those of you of a certain age will remember Artie Shaw, a great clarinetist probably most famous for his rendition of “Begin the Beguine,” my personal favorite. That recording took us through dinner.

Then we adjourned to the couch to watch a Robin Williams classic, “Good Morning, Vietnam.” in which he plays an over-the-top DJ in his own battle with an Army officer who refuses to let him report on the escalating war. Could have been written today about our involvement in the Middle East.

Ended the evening watching a silly movie with Martin Short and Danny Glover which I won't mention further. Then watched the ball drop in Times Square and went to bed.

Continued our Retro New Year at breakfast with Tommy Dorsey and Frank Sinatra and, boy, did Sinatra sound young. The final notes of our Retro New Year were tooted by Harry James, literally and figuratively, “The Man With a Horn.” Vocals by Dick Haymes, Kitty Kallen, Helen Forrest, and Betty Grable, who later became his wife (for a while).

Danced the New Year in, in our memories.

Happy 2016 everyone.

Trumpelstiltskin

He may not be able to spin straw into gold but he sure can spin his way into the Republican presidential picture.

His resemblance to the imp in the famous Grimm fairy tale is remarkable. He has the same golden locks of the miller’s daughter in the original. But all he is spinning now is his own fairy tale.

Yet, like children, many are enchanted.  He can promise anything but really doesn’t have to deliver anything other than a rousing call to arms to his growing number of believers.

Will he self-destruct like his namesake when the name “Trumpelstiltskin” is proclaimed to the world? 

Peeking ahead, I’m guessing his pique will peak at unprecedented heights. 

The Ministry of Trump

It’s not too early for President-elect Trump to start thinking about his cabinet.

With Vice President Carson safely tucked into obscurity, Pres. Trump picks his dream team:

Secretary of Hate: Ted Cruz

Secretary of Indefensible: Marco Rubio

Secretary of Bluster: Chris Christie

Secretary of Indifference: Jeb Bush

Secretary of Hair: Rand Paul

Secretary of Boredom: Mike Huckabee
Secretary of Whats-His-Name:John Kasich

And Secretary of Blunders: Carly Fiorina

The all-Republican Senate confirms everyone unanimously. No Democrat in his right mind would participate in a government like that.

Proving once again you get what you don’t vote for. 

The Front-Runner

Here’s a thought: Is it possible Donald Trump polls so high among republican primary voters because the rest of the field is so, shall we say, tepid?

That’s a fairly mild word to describe Trump’s competition. A more partisan observer might use stronger language in assessing the feckless field. I’d like to disassociate myself from that scrum.

Trump is a phenomenon. The media is captivated by him. Cable comics are having a field day with his candidacy. He is as entertaining as he is ridiculous. Yet he is prevailing in the polls.

He is the star of his own political reality show and everyone else is his supporting cast.

At this time of year, baseball honors its best with “Most Valuable Player” awards. Trump gets my vote for “Kooky of The Year.”

No competition. 

Trying

I’m trying; really, I’m trying to get the hang of modern technology. I like my smart phone but some things I just can’t figure out.

For instance, we recently received photos of our Israeli great-granddaughters lighting Hanukkah candles. Very cute. I wanted to save them on my smart phone but I can’t figure out how to do it.

Later that same day one of my other Israeli granddaughters (we have six) sent us via WhatsApp a series of pictures of her kids also lighting Hanukkah candles. As a bonus, we also saw pictures of our youngest great-granddaughter and her mother.

These photos were saved automatically on the phone. In fact, through some mysterious alchemy this batch was saved twice.

We were so excited to get the pictures we called Israel to thank them. While talking, we mentioned the remodeling we did to our house (new roof and siding and a portico over the front door).

My wife had me go outside and take pictures of the new look and, with some long-distance prompting from my granddaughter, I WhatsApp’d them to her. She commented on our new look while we were still on the phone.

Technology can be wonderful and frustrating at the same time.

But I’m still trying. 

The Search for Incandescent Light In An LED World

I don’t like the new bulbs. You know, the LED types that start slowly and supposedly last forever. I’m not going to last forever so I don't need a bulb that lasts that long.

Whatever: here’s the story;

A workman replacing the roof over my office dropped something that sounded like an explosion and scared the wits out of me. What’s more, it blew out the two high-hat bulbs that light my office. They were good old incandescent bulbs that glowed immediately with 120 watts of nice clear light as soon as I turned them on.

So I set out to replace them. Good luck with that. Home Depot had none. Amazon had none. My favorite hardware store laughed at me when I asked if they had any similar bulbs. They blamed politicians who insisted we must have Eco-friendly light bulbs.

As a last resort, I tried ShopRite. All they had were LEDs offering 90watts. The price was right so I bought three. They came in hermetically-sealed plastic cases. I cut one open and the bulb popped out onto my kitchen counter and shattered. I returned all three today.

I think I’m as Eco-friendly as the next guy but is it too much to ask for a simple light bulb that goes on when you flip the switch and lasts a reasonable, not eternal, amount of time?

Call me retro but I’m still looking for my incandescent bulbs.

Becoming Murray Kimler

Murray Kimler owned the beauty parlor next to my father's tailor shop in the Bronx. He was a very nice man and very accommodating.

In the summer of 1948 our two families rented houses in Long Beach, Long Island. I was too young to drive then and once in a while Murray gave me a lift to the beach. It was nice of him but torture for me because Murray drove in the right lane of the Grand Central Parkway at exactly 35 miles an hour. That was the the speed limit, of course, and, just as now no one drove at the speed limit, except Murray.

Back then my father cruised that highway at about 50 miles an hour along with the other traffic. So sitting alongside Murray driving to Long Beach was gut-wrenching. I still remember those drives when today 65 is the new 35. (Today's drivers would thank heaven if they could go 35 mph on the Grand Central.)

I'm telling you this because recently my wife and I were driving locally when she asked me if I was doing a “Murray.” She was right. I was dawdling along in the right lane as traffic zipped by.

Jolted to the present, I started driving normally while giving a mental shout out to the late, if not very late, Murray Kimler.