Category: Uncategorized

Nothing In Common (Chapters 11 & 12) unedited

Chapter 11:  The Butcher At The Corner

The butcher at the corner was always trying to teach my grandfather new words in Italian.  My grandfather was of Irish and German descent, but he always took the time to try and learn a few words so the next time he came into the shop, he could greet ‘Nick’ in a few words from his native tongue.  Nick in turned learned a few Irish limericks from my grandfather, interesting to be sure, but probably not stories he could tell around the dinner table at home.  

Every time my grandfather entered the shop, he would be greeted with: “Buongiorno Senior Danny,” and my grandfather would respond: “Top A The Mornin To Ya Senior Nicola.”  These two men formed a bond over many years that transcended any language barrier or separation of geography based on birth.  You could hear it in the laughter they shared, and see it in the mutual respect they held for each other in their eyes.  

My grandfather wanted to be able to share some culture with Nick, not because he was so interested in learning Italian, but because he was very interested in getting to know Nick. They became the best of friends over forty years and attended all family functions together.  As a duet, they often sang both Irish and Italian folksongs after a few ‘pints,’ or several glasses of the home made wine Nick made in his basement.

What they shared was special, and the superficial differences between them made it even more so.  The important thing is that they shared.  They shared a belief in their religion, their country, and in each other, that transcended any difference that you might notice from the outside. Together, they became bigger than either could be alone.  They knew this instinctively and made every effort to embrace these surface differences and make them their own.  My grandfather would often lecture me on Italian food and history, telling me, that this or that was so, because he had heard it from Nick.

                  In Their Laughter They Became One

The butcher at the corner, and my grandfather, figured out one of the great secrets of life, and that is that we’re only different in what we admit to.  If the same admission is that we’re fundamentally the same, we can travel down the road of sharing and community — basic tenets that America was founded upon almost 250 years ago.

To reach out, we first have to let go. We need to abandon the notion that only our way is best, and move away from the bias and prejudices that build fences among us. Only then will we realize that the other person is waiting for our acceptance to become something together that we could never be alone. Imagine this magnified over 300 million people.  That’s the way it used to be in our country, and to be truly great, that’s the way it will have to be again.

                 To Reach Out, We First Have To Let Go

 

Chapter 12: ‘All Roads lead To Rome’

Those who left home to serve their country, or to attend school, learned a magical lesson.  In the service, you learned that even though the guy in the bunk next to you may have been from Oklahoma, and you from New York, the ‘apparent and surface’ differences between you only magnified your attempt to get closer to each other.  In almost no time at all, you discovered that the big and fundamental things between you were the same.

His parents had raised him to respect his elders, our flag, God, and country, just as our parents had us. Even though his small town in Oklahoma made have had a population of 207, and our town over 200,000, the lessons we had learned growing up transcended any census figure or geographical location.  We both had grown up in America, and whether big town or small village, cold northern climate or western panhandle, the things we valued were the core beliefs we shared.

                      Our Roads Really Did Lead To Rome

The Rome I am speaking of metaphorically is the common path we were all on. It was taking us to a better place where people of like mind worked together and sometimes died defending the things they believed in and the freedom that allowed those things to be so.  We didn’t agree in some sort of ‘stepford’ way. We agreed because we learned these lessons of correct behavior when we were very young. They were lessons that stood the test of time and felt right, not only when written down, but inside our hearts and minds as we were encouraged to do the right thing and to let ‘our conscience be our guide.’

Our ‘Rome’ was a shared ‘pursuit of happiness’ built into the American Dream, that every kid grew up seeking, and every adult treasured more than anything else.  It was the shared understanding that America was more than our buildings and our Declaration Of Independence.  America was our history, a history of freedom, paid for and insured by those willing to die for it.  Those who sacrificed led the way and have preserved our freedom for over 250 years.  It’s been said that there are no atheists in foxholes and I believe that’s true.  There are very few unpatriotic non-believers when we go through hardship and ultimately prevail together.  The reason we do it together is because, as a group, we have always believed and agreed upon its core value.

                            Is That Still The Case Today? 

During my junior year at college, one of my roommates, in the apartment we rented, was a black fellow named Tom from Newark New Jersey.  Tom had grown up in the poorest of inner-city neighborhoods, but through perseverance, diligence, and the support of a strong mother, he made it through high school with good grades and found his way to a good university.  He was also a good athlete.  

Tom couldn’t live the American Dream, like many of us, while he was young.  He had to wait until later, when he had his degree, and could go back and help his mother and brothers better their conditions at home.  Tom was able to do this because his mother never abandoned hope or her belief in him.  Mrs. Scott believed in the fundamental goodness of America. Even though her day in and day out life as a domestic worker was a challenge, she never gave up the hope that her children would do better.  America, up until the 1970’s, was a nation where children always did better than their parents, but that was an America that had a shared value system. 

The first two weeks Tom and I lived together there were many questions, as we prodded each other trying to find out how different we really were.  I was surprised and pleased to find out that Tom shared most of the values I had, and in many cases felt even stronger about them than me. We had had the same strong parenting and watched the same T.V. shows. Tom’s heroes were the same as mine, and we were both excited to find out that Willie May’s was our favorite baseball player.  In those first two weeks, Tom stopped being that kid from the urban ghetto and became a trusted friend. And one who almost forty years later has become a treasure in my life. 

I asked Tom one day what it must have been like walking home from school in Newark and playing outside on his block.  Tom explained to me what he heard from his mother, Esther, every night at the dinner table.  Mrs. Scott would tell her three boys that “The right thing is not dependant on who does it, being right is everyone’s duty and obligation. Just because someone chooses not to do the right thing doesn’t change what they should have done.”  Tom’s mother constantly reinforced to her sons that doing the right thing is the right thing to do for its own sake.  These are brave and insightful words from a woman whose physical and emotional playing field was not level … and certainly not fair.

 She Believed In The Principles Of Right And Wrong In Spite Of Her Living Conditions  

Much of America over the past 200 years has been like that. Too many have struggled with adversity while still believing in the future and the power of positive change.  This has been made possible by the strong tenets of their faith and their belief in each other.

Tom’s mother also taught him to never dwell on the negative.  He was, and is, one of the most positive people I have ever known and has been a shining example to my children that anything in life is possible.  Tom didn’t know his father. He had abandoned the family when Tom was four but hadn’t been around much even during those first four years. Instead of using this as a crutch, or excuse, Tom became the man of the house and developed a sense of responsibility far in advance of his age.  He became the only ‘father figure’ his two younger brothers would even know.  

Tom told me these things, and more, on the way to a football game in Rhode Island one weekend in 1969. Because of the way we felt about each other, his story became part of my story.  I taught Tom to surf in Ocean City New Jersey the next summer, and I like to believe that part of myself became part of him.  I know I wanted it to be that way, and he has told me in so many words that he felt that way too. I remember vividly how my parents reacted to first meeting Tom when I brought him home for a Christmas visit in 1969.  

Both of my parents had grown up in poor neighborhoods during the ‘Great Depression’ and had tears in their eyes as Tom shared what it had been like growing up in Newark, in a two-room apartment, with a single parent.  My Mom and Dad loved him right away. Not because he had been poor and unfortunate, but just the opposite, because he was so rich in spirit.  My Dad and Tom became so close, as the years went on, that my Dad ended up becoming the father that Tom never had.  My father had grown up in a tough white ghetto, in the Kensington section of Philadelphia, and in many ways was more like Tom than me.  There’s something about true poverty that crosses all color lines.

Tom’s Road To Rome had more bumps and potholes in it than mine did, but we were pointed squarely in the same direction.  We both knew that in the ways we looked different, society would often focus on that. We also knew that because of our shared belief in what was possible, and in each other, we could change that perception.  By coming together as friends, we created something stronger than any bigotry or bias that would try to take that friendship away.  

By looking past our superficial and surface differences, we found what was real in each other and reveled in the things we both held dear. It was upon these things we shared that we built a lifelong friendship, one that shared the even bigger dream of our generation for a better world. One of the first things Tom and I shared was our music.  Our favorite artists were the great ‘Soul’ groups coming out of Detroit like the Temptations and the Miracles.  The power of music never ceases to amaze in the way it transcends division and separation, drawing the listener in to something higher and more cerebral.  Unfortunately, the powerful messages of love and togetherness, that these groups sang about, has been replaced by violent and negative ‘rap’ artists who glorify and give credence to the negativity of the streets in our inner city’s.

As a result of drug infestation, and the violence that accompanies it, the ability for a young man like Tom to travel the positive road to Rome has been made much more difficult.  Because we have not been able to agree on basic fairness issues, our inner cities have become denizens of the profane and brutal elements of our society, often feeding off themselves in a downward spiral of poverty and despair.  Every day, millions of kids are faced with the agonizing decision between doing the right thing or taking the easier and misleading road of drug pushing and violent street gang involvement. 

Once we lose these young people to the world of drugs and gangs, it is almost impossible to ever get them back. Shining examples like Tom only make a small impact when he revisits his neighborhood and tries to work with the youth center where he grew up.  We need to put programs, and people, in place to spread and reinforce the messages of optimism, education, and a better life to these kids who, through no fault of their own, may never hear it any other way.  The road out of their neighborhood can lead to Rome also — if we can remove the barriers and roadblocks that obscure their view.  

The athletes who ‘escape’ the ghetto are few and far between and put a lace curtain on the overpowering problems that they are fortunate enough to leave behind. Their success often leaves a false impression on the kids still living there, thinking that they too will grow up to be Michael Jordan or Deion Sanders.  Is it possible … yes, but only for the very, very few. What about all the others that get left behind?  The lace curtain of false opportunity slowly closes, as these children become dropouts, and then wards of society, either on public welfare roles, or as inmates of an overburdened prison system.  

Tom went on to become a Doctor of Sports Medicine. In addition to his medical practice, Tom has a counseling service where he advises young college athletes. He reminds them that the ‘riches’ of pro sports happen only to the very few, and that the real riches of their athletic ability lie in the education that that ability has provided them.  

Through our time together, Tom and I discovered that our dreams were really the same.  The dream of maximizing our full potential, and having the opportunity to raise a family and provide and teach those same dreams to our children, happened for both of us.  Tom paid a much higher price for his dreams, and as a result, they mean even more to him. 

The possibility of two young men, coming together as Tom and I did and sharing the dream of America, gets tougher every year.  There are more obstacles in the way.  The sins of our fathers and grandfathers should not continue to be passed on, but the dreams that they collectively fought and died for should be.  

Someone once said: “Show me a man without a dream, and I will show you no man at all.”  One of the great tragedies of the new millennium is that we have stolen these dreams from our young people.  In destroying the roads that could transport them from where they are, to where they need to be, we commit cultural genocide.  A sin for which no punishment may ever be enough.  I heard a ‘Rap’ artist once say: “I sing about the streets, but I’m no longer from the streets.”  It’s an admission that he is making a lucrative living off the poverty and depression of those who unlike him can’t get out.  It seems, in many cases, that the dream of today is to shatter what’s left of the dream of others.                                 

To change the way things are, we need to ‘share’ in not only the goodness that we all seek in our hearts, but in the nightmare of those who cannot dream the dream.  We now know that welfare doesn’t work … opportunity does!  The old saying that ‘it’s better to teach a man to fish than to feed a man a fish’ is as true in our nation’s poorest neighborhoods as in any segment of society.  

Most of my generation, despite the popular impressions of Woodstock etc., knew drugs were wrong, and most of us avoided them.  Even the few that used ‘recreational’ drugs during the 1960’s moved past them as they evolved into adulthood with families and careers. Most users were experimental … quickly in and then quickly out.  

Drugs today are the main economic disincentive of the black ghetto, although they appear the opposite to the young generation living there.  They exact a much bigger cost from their participants than any temporary financial gain they pretend to offer.  They create a culture that drives their users away from real opportunity, trading a fantasy future based on lies and corruption for one that has the true freedom and change that they so desperately need.  In most cases, it is the future itself that is stolen from these neighborhoods, to be replaced with a violent, and often life ending consequence, for those who are conditioned to feel that they have nothing left to lose.

The only thing necessary to reopen the economic, and cultural Road To Rome, is to change the minds of the younger people living there.  This will only be possible when real opportunity is presented early, with clear cut instructions showing how this will lead to a better and happier life.

If all roads lead to Rome … How Many Esther’s Are There To Lead the Way?  

Nothing In Common (Chapters 9 & 10) unedited

Chapter 9:  Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Friendship & Mentoring

On the first day of school, every first grader was assigned a ‘big brother’ or ‘big sister’ from the 8thgrade.  These were our designated guidance counselors and caretakers during the entire term of the first year.  This was something the 8th graders took seriously and a responsibility that not every 8th grader was given.  If you were lazy or irresponsible, this honor would go to someone else.  The care of these younger children was a serious matter, and you treated the 1st grader in your charge like your younger brother or younger sister at home.

You duties entailed number one, making sure that they had a safe way to get to school.  If both of their parents worked, a rarity, you would try, if it wasn’t too far, to meet them at their house and walk them to school.  Most students lived within walking distance. By today’s standards, the 30-minute walk many of us had would seem too far away.  Back then, the walk to and from school was one of the highlights of our day.

It was on these treks, back and forth, that you oftentimes experienced your greatest adventures.  You would try to find a new, and shorter, way each time and always different from the one you had taken the day before.  In reality, there was only one way home, but we dawdled and zig-zagged, and cut between different houses, so it always seemed like our navigation was different.  Every one of us fancied ourselves as Meriwether Lewis —blazing new trails for others to follow.

When walking home with one of our ‘charges,’ it was straight home by the quickest and safest route. In the morning, for safety, we tried to take the pathway that would have the least car traffic so our younger ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ would be safe and not afraid.

Once at school, we helped them put away their coats and get their desks in order.  We also asked them if they were having any trouble with their ABC’s or numbers. If they were, we would work on those things on our way to and from school. 

Once ensuring their safety, our next most important job was to instill in them a knowledge of what would be happening over the next 8 years.  What better example could there be than 8th graders who were completing the journey, and in 9 short months would be graduating and heading off to the various high schools that served our area.

We reveled in the success of these younger charges, as they learned to read and eventually count as high as 100 before their first year would end. Often, they would paint us special pictures, depending on what we liked, and based on the stories we told them.  These became some of our most prized possessions, and over 50 years later, I still have mine prominently displayed. 

What we did, more than anything else with these little people, was share.  We shared our time, our laughter, and our concern for them, and were rewarded with love and admiration in return.  Yes love, the kind of love that needs no reason or explanation, one that is given freely and without asking, and a love once received that was so special that we couldn’t wait to give it back in return.

                                 It was a love we shared

We loved watching these little kids going through the same magical process that we did and hearing Sister Rita Marie tell the same stories, with the same inflection and emotion in her voice, as when she had told them to us so very long ago.  They also got to share, through the power of her instruction, the knowledge of what true value was in life.  She taught each one of them in a special way that was tailored for their own individual needs, emphasizing always that what was given away would come back 100 fold, and how to be a true friend. 

We reinforced the same lessons to our young charges at recess and on the way home in the afternoon. We knew they would again hear the same things from their parents over dinner that evening (does anyone remember family dinners), and the chain of connection that we shared would only solidify and get stronger.

                        We Really Were ‘Parents In Absentia’

Like the relationship between parents and their children, the accomplishments of these little ones, and their occasional misdeeds, reflected on us.  We took great pride in their victories and we suffered with them when things didn’t go well.  They struggled, they learned, and they played together, all the while knowing they would never be alone.

               It All Worked Because We Were Willing To Share

This willingness to share didn’t happen by accident or osmosis. It was handed down, and then taught, in a system run by highly principled women who knew its intrinsic value and what it would ultimately mean for all of us.  

Whenever I meet another person who went to parochial school, or in most cases any public grammar school during the 1950’s, there is an instant kinship and connection.  After 15 minutes, we usually end up finishing each other’s sentences and marveling at how identical our upbringings were.  No matter how far removed our childhoods were geographically, it made no difference. The lessons the nuns taught were universal in their message and roadmaps to a better life. 

What gets shared among young children today?  The desire for more of what they couldn’t get enough of yesterday — and will still yearn for tomorrow?  In the abject isolation of a destructive video game, or violent TV program, they withdraw further and further inside of themselves, missing much of the beauty that is only brought out by others. In the absence of cell phones, I-pads, and video games, we personallygot to know each other, and in many, if not most cases, those friendships we made are still strong today. It takes another human being to bring out the best in you, and vice-versa.

              Not A Machine Or Unfeeling Scion Of Technology

The obesity of today’s younger generation is caused by inactivity and a series of lazy and uninformed choices. It is driven by a search for temporary comfort and gratification at the expense of their health and self-esteem.

I’m sure, looking back 50 years from now, we will have discovered that diseases like Obesity, Diabetes, Autism, ADHD, and Anxiety & Depression, were all at least partially caused by an inactive, poorly nourished, and degenerative lifestyle.   

We couldn’t build a bird house, assemble a scrapbook, or put together a model airplane without the glue or adhesive that held it all together.  We faced many challenges and obstacles on our journey toward 8thgrade, but we encouraged each other, respected the rules, learned to laugh at ourselves, admonished the stragglers when needed, and most importantly — did it together.

The Glue We Had Was A Set Of Core Values That Proved Their Worth When Times Got Tough

Chapter 10: TV & The Messages It Held Inside

My generation, the Baby Boomers, was the first to be raised, at least in part, by television. The magical gray box held wonders beyond compare for a 5 year old fixated in its presence. You would marvel at the places it would take you, as it became your special nanny, while your parents were off tending to the chores in the ‘real world.’

Like all mediums of information, The T.V. was neither inherently good nor bad.  That depended on the intention of the programmers behind the camera. As young children, we experienced the final result, and in 1955 that result was almost always good.  The messages the T.V. brought were mainly those of accepted, time tested, family values, and our parents were comfortable and confident letting us watch by ourselves.

Back then, the message always ended with the good guy winning and the cowboy wearing the white hat saving the day.  The one’s wearing the black hats were always the villains, and implicitly we knew this when they first appeared on screen.  The good guy’s stuck together in our T.V. shows, and the bad guys were those who didn’t hold to the accepted social order (values) and wandered off in search of self-interest by breaking the law, creating havoc, and usually getting caught and then punished by shows end.  The message of these early shows reflected the shared values we had as a society and only served to reinforce what we were already being taught in school and at home.

I can remember my mother and father coming into the living room as I was watching re-runs of the ‘Our Gang Comedy’s’ from the 1930’s.  They were among my very favorites, and my parents would sit down with me and watch them too.  They would then relive all over again their childhoods during the Great Depression and tell me over and over how much that series meant to them when times were so tough.  The characters were called ‘The Little Rascals’ and had names like Alfalfa, Spanky, Porky and Buckwheat and always got into some kind of mischief.  They usually got caught, resulting in their acknowledging the errors of their ways, and learned a great lesson in the process. In many ways, they were as much a ‘morality tale’ as any told previously or since and a stark contrast to what the negative on-screen ‘entertainment’ provides for our kids today.

According to film historian Leonard Maltin, “Our Gang put boys, girls, whites, and blacks together in a group as equals.”  To be equal, we had to agree upon and share in what makes us that way.  Back then we had no problem doing that.  

                                             As equals  

‘Our Gang’ was comprised of some upper middleclass kids, but mainly poor and black kids all playing together. In playing and seeking out common goals, they set aside any petty or surface differences in their pursuit of adventure and fun.  They may have come from different economic or social circumstances, but they realized, when playing together, that that’s all that they were. The magic and the adventure of the task at hand superseded any variation in class, color, or social standing. They had much more important things to do than worry about petty differences and spent all of their time playing, planning, and conspiring as a group.

                        They Had More Important Things To Do! 

The images on T.V. came to us in black and white, and the messages they carried inside were black and white too.  No confusion or embarrassment in trying to be ‘politically correct’ like today. Their messages were linked both spiritually and ethically to the ones we learned outside when the T.V. was turned off.

Shows like Lasssie, Rin Tin Tin, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger, Howdy Doody, and then Superman, all came with a message that if the right choices were made, good would triumph over evil.  We felt better after watching these shows, and again our parents would often break away from what they were doing and watch them with us.

                            Another Thing We Shared Together! 

With our decoder rings and coonskin caps, we cheered for our heroes on the 11 inch screen.  We knew that they might struggle for a while, but in the end would always win the day. They let us know that the same thing applied in our personal lives as well.  I remember going to see Gene Autry in Northeast Philadelphia when I was 8 years old. Gene Autry, along with Roy Rogers, were the biggest cowboy stars of my young generation. Gene had his horse Champion, and the Son Of Champion, with him at the outdoor demonstration.  

Gene took the time to walk the entire crowd and tried his best to talk to every child who stood outside the corral.  His questions to each kid were always the same … “Are you doing good in school?” and “Are you listening to your mom and dad?’  I left that day knowing that my on-screen hero was real, and the things that he told me, and encouraged me to do on his program, were things he believed in his heart.  I also knew he had served his country bravely during World War 2 when many stars in Hollywood hadn’t.  He represented the best of all the things, and we all wanted to be like him. 

Our on-screen heroes also encouraged us to have piggy banks and to save our penny’s, explaining to us the magic of doing the right thing every day (saving) and how quickly it would add up.  They also reinforced that good things take time, and that immediate gratification was the imposter of the short-sighted. We filled our piggy banks by having paper routes and redeeming used soda bottles and didn’t ask our parents for the money, knowing that they hadn’t asked theirs.  

When that bank got so full, that it wouldn’t accept another dime, you  knew you were the wealthiest person in the world, or at least on Rockingham Road where I lived.  Your parents proudly accompanied you to the local bank where you had opened your first passbook savings account with your name on it (Mom and Dads too).  At birthdays, and holidays, you might have some relatives who wanted to ‘invest’in your future success by making your passbook even heavier with the magic it contained.

Every kid in the 1950’s knew the story of ‘The Tortoise And The Hair,’ and understood that it was by continual effort, not just a grandstanding initial burst out of the starting blocks, that true progress was made.  It was the choice of putting aside the temptations of the present, and contributing to something larger and more important, that they taught us on T.V.  We all knew that the value in saving, and planning for the future, would override any temporal persuasion and allow us to eventually accomplish much bigger things.

                  Again, These Messages We Got From Our T.V.’s 

Just think of the symbols and messages that exist on T.V. and in Video Games for kids today.  Violent action figures that continue to kill and maim, basing their success on how much damage they can do.  These violent messages reach children today at a young and impressionable age. Unless parents are conscientious and extremely vigilant, the young child is damaged severely before he or she is even given the chance to understand that the world can, and should, be a different and more uplifting place.

Occasionally, our T.V Shows would deal with tragedy and even death, but it was presented in a spirit of hope and renewal and a belief in the future.  I remember how I felt watching ‘Old Yeller’ when the dog was shot after contracting rabies while defending the boys from a wolf and had to be put down.  I was sad for days until it slowly started to sink in.  The message was that sometimes life isn’t fair, but we can be, and that doing the right thing in certain situations was the hardest thing of all.

                    And That Made It All The More Worth Doing!

Rin Tin Tin, a tan and black German Shepherd, was my personal favorite.  He was the troop mascot in a cavalry unit, and Rinty was always saving some trooper from an Indian attack or rescuing someone who was either lost or being held prisoner in the American West.  Rin Tin Tin embodied the moral message that the army and the settlers shared in common, and he proudly served to enforce these values when called upon by his master.

Rinty was both loyal and obedient, courageous and brave …traits we all tried to emulate in our everyday lives.   

He also knew the difference between right and wrong because that is what he had been taught.  We all loved and wanted to be like him and trained our own dogs to be at least partially as heroic and adventuresome as Rinty was.  As I got older, I always had German Shepherds as my personal dogs.  In real life, they share most of the qualities, and nobility of character, that Rin Tin Tin personified on screen.

In many ways, we love dogs so much because of the purity of their character.  They are totally loyal to their masters, and would in most cases die in the protection of those that they love. They often give up their own interests, in the pursuit of deferring to their masters, and want nothing more than to serve something, or someone, they see as bigger than themselves. They truly are man’s best friend!

                  And T.V. Portrayed Them Exactly That Way

Whether watching ‘Sky King,’ ‘Sgt Preston Of The Yukon,’ or ‘Daniel Boone,’ I never saw any cross-legged kid, sitting in front of the T.V., confused as to what the message was in the show he was watching. We all cheered together, laughed together, and cried together, based on the plot at hand because we all shared in the values within the message that was showing on screen.  The good guys were always good, and the bad guys always bad.  No matter how desperate the situation got in one of those shows, we always knew that good would win out in the end.  It was in this spirit, of sending a positive message of hope, that the T.V. shows during my childhood were at their best.

Imaging what a young person watching a show today, laced with sex and violence, must be thinking.  He or she can’t help but come away from that show diminished and in less control of themself than before. The only value in T.V. today is one shared by the parents.  Many parents today use television and I-pads to keep their kids occupied, and out of their ‘hair,’ while they check their emails and watch even more violent and sexually explicit programming thinking, in error, that they are spiritually immune from its negative effects. 

If you have children of your own, and no parental controls on your T.V.’s, … then shame on you.  If you allow your children to watch T.V., play video games, or with I-pads, at their friend’s houses without the same controls, then I echo the sentiment.  Children grow up fast enough as it is without having the very core of their childhood ripped away from them by these violent and destructive electronic pariahs.  In many ways, T.V. — and its electronic counterparts — are the great progenitor of the downward moral spiral that we seem to be on. 

My head is neither in the clouds nor do I live in a world of fantasy … in most ways I am a realist.  The realities of the world today I am all too familiar with, but I am unwilling to anoint them with unlimited power over our children in a capitulation that there is nothing we can do to fight back.

When young children, and teenagers, bring guns into our schools, with mass murders and suicides the result of their misguidance, what does this tell us about their state of mind and what they see when they look into the future?  As young children, we had heard the stories about Nagasaki and Hiroshima and the devastating results those two bombs caused.  We also knew they were dropped with a higher purpose, and in the end saved lives.  Invading Japan, which would have been the only other alternative, would have resulted in many more lives being lost on both sides.  We understood their purpose, and we also understood the difference between self-protection and preservation and wanton destruction and violence.

As horrible as it was to think about what those Japanese went through in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we understood why it had to be done.  I don’t think anyone, including the confused and misguided young person with the gun in their hands, understands why someone enters a place of learning and starts indiscriminately shooting at everyone and in all directions.  A person like that can’t share the same value for human life that we all like to believe we share.  A person like that has had their moral barometer and compass shattered inside them. They are running sociopathically amok — devoid of any empathy for others — or sense of right and wrong.

People like this don’t just happen. They are created in an environment of abandonment, moral confusion, and despair. In many ways, the Columbine shootings were done by someone feeling even more helpless than his unfortunate victims did on that sad and tragic day.  

The television of today puts kids in these violent and destructive situations on screen.  If they are left unsupervised, the lines between fantasy and reality can easily become blurred, and over time these negative images pile up inside of them until one day the pressure becomes so great that they snap, hurting not only innocent victims, but themselves.  

Our TV programs in the 1950’s were an extension of our parents, our teachers, and our religious instructors.  They were a positive reinforcement and the best example of what the medium could be.  As has been said many times … “Art is a reflection of the society of its time,” and our time (in the 1950’s) was reflected in the most positive and uplifting light by the things that we watched.

What eventually happened to TV is what happened to our society in general.  By not sharing the same value systems that created those great programs, we’ve allowed our world to become polarized and divided with our heels dug in. In our misguided defense of what is politically correct, we have allowed the perpetrators of wrong to sit equally, and sometimes as overlord, at the table with those who are trying to do the right thing.  

To make matters worse, through misguided legislators and organizations like the ACLU, we pass laws and give legal rights to the creators of this violent and perverted programming.  As the famous comic strip character ‘Pogo’ said in the 1950’s …

                   “We Have Met The Enemy — And He Is Us!”  

A Woman Scorned

The Muse continues to punish me

 whenever I write prose

 

Her slaps severe with pain heartfelt

no fury ‘hell hath known’

 

She sentences me to endless nights

and days when words won’t come

 

Until I succumb to writing verse

 and she — my breath becomes

 

 

(Fairmount Park: October, 2016)

In Lieu Of

When our histories have finally been written, many, if not most, of the important things to havehappened will not have been purposed or planned for — but will have happened in lieu of those things.

That College or University that you went to may have been in lieu of the one you initially thought you wanted to attend but couldn’t get into.

The woman you married may have been the best friend, or roommate, of the girl you initially tried to date. But because of time or circumstance you ended up taking her out instead.

Like Reggie Jackson being traded from the Orioles to the Yankees, some of our best accomplishments are the result of finding ourselves in one situation in lieu of another.  My family physician, when I was a kid, only went to medical school because he was refused entrance into the university engineering program which had been his first choice.

How many of these alternate, and in lieu of, situations have impacted your life and maybe shaped the important events that went on to make all the difference?

Many times, life is calling out to us from places that we refuse to hear.  The universe has a plan, and the secret is to get in lockstep with that plan and value the options we are presented and the new choices it gives us.

I’m sure the doctors, scientists, farmers, and businessmen (all patriots), that became our Founding Fathers never intended to lead a new and emerging country to freedom and independence.

They were being called to something bigger than their original and proprietary decisions had mapped out, and history will forever record the importance of their answering that call.

The best parts of all of us are often those undiscovered. They are sometimes most evident to others while being blind to ourselves.  As we recognize without help or assistance the talents of our children, we are often in the dark when it comes to seeing those same things in our own nature.

Every parent starts T-Ball or Pop Warner Football wanting their kid to be either a pitcher or quarterback. If that were allowed to happen, where would the great third baseman and linebackers come from?  We very often need the help of others to determine the right and correct roads for us to walk down.

Kris Kristofferson and Louis Armstrong did not have the greatest singing voices in the music industry.  They did however, go on to write —and sing — some of the greatest songs in popular music during the last 100 years.  We often need to go against the grain and swim up-stream to achieve our greatest levels of success.  The rain that falls on the highest peak in the Rocky Mountain range does eventually find its way to the ocean.  The route it takes is determined by something beyond its ability to control.

The next time someone says to you: “You have a great voice; you ought to sing professionally,” or, “I think that’s a great idea; you should send it to a magazine,” maybe you should listen.  More than just that one person is reaching out to you …

                                            The Universe Is Speaking!

Nothing In Common (Chapters 7 & 8) unedited

Chapter 7:  Learning To Share

At St Thomas Of Villanova Grade School we learned how to share.  We had shared desks, shared inkwells, shared coatrooms, and no individual lockers.  Any valuables that we did have were out in the open and under the protection of all.  This honor system was developed over many generations, and one that had its own measure of checks and balances.  Things did occasionally get lost, but in my 8 years at St. Thomas,’ I can’t recall one thing ever being stolen. 

If you talk to anyone who grew up in the 1950’s, you’ll hear things like this repeated over and over again …

: In my neighborhood we never even locked our doors.

: I left my bike on the front porch for years.

: The milkman and breadman left food outside the front or back door, sometimes for hours, and no-one ever touched it.

                  These Things Were Integral To American Life 

Just like in school, the neighborhood had its own method of self-protection.  It stemmed from a principle, all held dear, that no-one would ever even think about entering anyone else’s home uninvited.  Cars sat in driveways unlocked with packages in the back seat and glove boxes full.  The same applied here. This was someone’s private property, and you afforded the object the same respect as the person who owned it. It’s just the way things were done.

Things were done this way because we all shared the belief that any other way would have been wrong. 

               It Really Did Come Down To … Right Or Wrong! 

In the lower grades at school, we all wore coverings over our pants and skirts in the winter called leggings, Leggings kept you warm while offering a layer of protection from the hard asphalt that served as our playground during recess and lunch.  It was one students job every day to help everyone else get their leggings off.  If you ever wore them, you know what a chore this could be, especially if you were doing it by yourself.  Luckily, in my school, you were never by yourself, and you actually looked forward to the day when it was your responsibility to help everyone else.  In the sharing of oneself, we learned of the deeper meaning that life can bring.  

We also had shared turns at cleaning the blackboard, emptying the trash, and once a week, in the months during spring and fall, we all got to work in Sister Clara’s Garden.  Sister Clara was almost blind, and no-one knew how old she really was.  What we did know is that she had taught our parents, and in some cases our grandparents too, and we couldn’t wait for the stories that she would tell us about them when they were our age.  Sister Clara may have had failing eyesight, but she had total recall when it involved one of her students no matter how many years had passed.

It didn’t matter how long ago the event happened, she could make it seem like it was happening again today. She never pulled any punches, and it was through her stories that I first learned that my mother was not always perfect, she just got that way through hard work and practice.  I know this is true because that’s what she told me (LOL).

The things we shared at school came with responsibility and a pride in what they represented.  The words me or I seemed rarely used back then.  The pride we felt was in our school, or in our neighborhood, and of course in our country. If I hit a home run on the ball field, it was our team who won, and my efforts were part of that greater whole.

We learned early that we were only as good as the slowest or weakest player on our team, and we rallied around this person to sure up his strengths making us all better in the process.  By being willing to share, we could turn slower guys like me into blockers on the line, while our fastest guys would be the running backs carrying the ball down the field to score. No matter how fast those guys were, they always knew that without the right block, at the right time, they would never have been able to get through the line and into the end zone.  It was in the end zone that we shared together the joy of the touchdown.  Isn’t that the way it really should be, people of like mind, banding together for a common goal, and sharing in its reward?

Back then, being visible and being valuable were not necessarily the same thing.  Today, every kid wants to pitch or be quarterback on his team.  Under this scenario the team itself disappears.  Ask any great quarterback how he got to where he is, and he will invariably thank his offensive line for allowing him to make the plays that resulted in the wins. By believing in the concept that what’s good for all trumps’any individual goal, we were able to not only win games but to experience the joy that only teamwork can create.

          A Team Is About The Vision And The Mission They Share

When we shared these moments, we shared them in the only language that brought us together … English! We would never have expected, nor wanted, to celebrate in any other.  Just because you were Italian, and I was Irish, had nothing to do with it.  That was yesterday and in the past.  Today, our common bond was that we were all American kids conversing in the language that our Founding Fathers had used.  One of the marvelous things about the English language is its ability to assimilate different words and idioms from other cultures and make them its own. 

We often times found ourselves interjecting words from the foreign languages we learned from our friend’s parents into our daily speech.  I might be a Meshugana and you a Dummkopf, but it was all in good fun, and it spiced up our native language with a zest and flavor. The parents and grandparents from the ‘Old Country’ didn’t want their children to speak anything but English and would correct us with the proper English word when we borrowed one of theirs.  They wanted their children to be American, and only American, and to speak its chosen language without the accents they still carried on their tongues.

With Our Common Language, We Footnoted Ourselves In The Stories That We Told 

We learned in school that one of the greatest tragedies of America’s past had been the Civil War. It was a bitter conflict fought by two sides who shared so much in common — almost destroying each other in the clash of a few differences.  Luckily, we had the great unifier Abraham Lincoln in office to guide us back to nationhood.  Lincoln, more than anyone, realized that “A house divided against itself, cannot stand.”

                                         And So Did We! 

We learned that Northern and Southern States were divided along an imaginary line named Mason—Dixon. This line would often pit previous friends, and in some cases brothers, against each other in a tragic struggle to win the day.  One fundamental difference, slavery,  almost destroyed an entire country leaving deep wounds — the scars of which are still visible even today. 

We first learned in school that all men were created equal. Our Founding Fathers had assured us of that. In their shared understanding of the basic rights of man, they forged documents (The Declaration of Independence & The Bill of Rights), to insure that in this country men would always be free …free to share in the benefits that only liberty can provide.

It took a Civil War to make sure the promise of those documents was finally extended to all Americans.

 

 Chapter 8:  Every Story Paints A Picture

With every story the good Sisters told us, during our 8 years in parochial school, a picture got painted inside our minds.  These pictures became part of our spiritual DNA and the backbone of the moral code we developed and learned to live by.  The Nuns had told these stories over many years, and to thousands of students, but somehow through the intensity in their voices it seemed as though they were telling them again for the first time, and only to us.

Stories that involved important messages like … “Birds of a feather, flock together,” and … ‘Show me your friends, and I’ll tell you who you are” still resonate inside me today. Their truth has only strengthened with the years.  These stories, with their timeless phrases, were as important to us as any Bill of Rights or Ten Commandments. 

                     “The Pot Should Never Call The Kettle Black”

We also heard these sayings at home as our parents had learned them when they were young too.  It was something they shared with us, and it made the bond between student, teacher, and home, all the stronger.  We were all on the same page and we knew it.  It felt natural and right, and we supported each other in living out what it meant.  There was a twinkle in our mother’s and father’s eyes as they retold the story of what their nuns had taught them.  We knew the lessons were true because they had stood the test of time.

In 1942, my father had gone off to war as a U.S. Marine when he was 16.  He said on many days when the outcome looked bleak, he took special comfort in thinking back to his grade school days in the Kensington section of North Philadelphia, remembering that his 7th grade Nun had told him he was destined for great things … and he was!

The Public Schools taught the same lessons, with the same intent, just minus the religious overtones.  The fundamental principles of honesty, loyalty, fair play, and respect for the individual were constantly reinforced.  

If I heard it in school once, I heard it a thousand times … “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”  The part that stands alone is what divides, but in coming together we unify into something greater than we could ever be on our own.  This turns what is impossible for one into what’s possible, and even likely, when we act together. 

When we heard those immortal words from President John. F Kennedy, “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,” we knew exactly what he meant.  The you he was referring to was us as individuals, and in acting together for the good of our country, we could make America great — even greater than she already was.  We knew firsthand that people had suffered and died for its meaning. Most of us were the children of G.I.’s who had not long ago returned home from a long and devastating World War. It had been fought on three different continents to keep the world free.

Every year, we would have one or two, or maybe even three, new students transfer in from other parts of the country.  Some had come from as far away as Texas, or Illinois, and in 8th grade we even had one girl transfer in from Holland.  It didn’t matter where they were from because they thought and valued the same things as us.  They may have been taught in a different language, but the meaning was always the same. Their tastes in food may have been different, but their table manners and concern for those around them were identical to ours.  

Terry Heinsohn had transferred in from Amarillo Texas to our school in the 6th grade.  Terry sure had a real twang to his voice, but it never covered up the respect he showed for Sister Natalie or any of the adults who worked at our School.  Like us, Terry had been taught the Texas difference between right and wrong, and his lessons were easily and readily shared with us for those last 3 years.  He was also a really good athlete. 

We learned from these transferees and their stories that the surface differences we noticed on the outside were just that … superficial.  When you got right down to it, they were just like us in the things that really mattered, and it was the things that really mattered, the core values that we shared, that bonded us together as a class.  

                 Sadly, I Don’t Believe Today We Can Say The Same!