NOTE TO BARBARA

I rarely do this but I must speak up. On a recent episode of The View, Barbara Walters voiced her opinion about a male politician showing his emotions on an episode of 60 Minutes. It was not the first time for this particular gentleman and apparently Barbara felt the need to opine that such displays of emotion by a man were signs of weakness and indicative of instability. Barbara, Barbara, Barbara.

Since that show I have watched a soldier haltingly talking about the brave acts he had witnessed of a Medal of Honor recipient. I watched an interview Larry King did with Barbara and George H. W. Bush where the senior Bush became emotional during a video of his son Neil thanking him for being the father he was.

Over the years I can remember watching many, many men face to face as well as through the up close and personal lens of a television camera show emotion ranging from misty eyes, to having to pause, to being unable to continue. Not all were grieving. Some were retiring from distinguished careers, some were being recognized for extraordinary achievements and some were particularly thankful for twists of good fortune bestowed upon loved ones.

One of the more recent displays of emotion I particularly remember occurred during the press conference at the conclusion of the Ryder Cup. The Ryder Cup is a competition between the best men golfers of the United States and those of Europe and is the very pinnacle of golf. In a down-to-the-wire finish the US lost. Under enormous pressure a critical shot was missed by American Hunter Mahan that, at the end of 3 days of competition, was the shot that gave the victory to the Europeans. At the conclusion, each team was seated at a long table facing reporters from around the world, answering questions while a worldwide television audience watched. Most reporters avoided the question but finally someone asked Hunter about the shot. He got out a few words, paused, a few more words and then could not continue. His eyes were filled with tears. It was almost as painful for those watching as it was for Hunter.

Phil Mickelson, sitting to his left, seeing his teammate in distress, took the microphone and gave a gracious answer in a manner you would expect from Phil. Was Hunter Mahan weak or unstable? Were President Bush, the soldier or any of the other men?

You don’t know me Barbara but believe me when I say some of the bravest, most courageous, toughest men I know can get misty eyed at a baptism or the playing of the national anthem, my Dad among them. It would be most un-just to consider them un-stable.

CHARLIE BROWN

 

    I’ve been watching some of the Charlie Brown Christmas shows.  I was thinking, wouldn’t it be a wonderful world if everyone fell into the categories of characters developed by  Charles Schultz?  When you think about it most everyone is represented, except bad people.   There is no room in Charlie’s world for bad people.  There are some that are rascals or envious of Charlie’s see-no-evil nature but underneath, they love Charlie. 

     I am hooked the second I hear the tinkling piano sounds of Schroeder.  No matter what is going on in your life how can you not mellow out at these smooth, flowing classic songs that conjure up all that is good with people.  I just turn to mush.  I am instantly transported to a world of good people doing good, simple things.  Sure there are your little confrontations between the characters and some making fun of the gullible Chuck, bruising of ego’s and even heartbreak but in the end everyone loves Charlie. 

     Imagine if Charlie was the president of the United States.  He would be the epitome of the can’t-we-all-get-along way of governing.  While maybe lacking in some of the worldly qualities required of a president, that’s what his cabinet is for.  Lucy would be Secretary of State.  None of the leaders of the world would want to be on her bad side.  Snoopy, with his assistant Woodstock, would be Secretary of Homeland Security.  The Red Baron’s stellar military career would make him a perfect fit.  Linus would be Vice President.  He would be the perfect confidant for Charlie and maybe Housing and Urban Development for Pig Pen or Department of the Interior for Peppermint Patty.  The possibilities are endless.

     The press conferences would be in the no nonsense, straight forward manner of the Peanuts gang.  No posturing here, just tell it like it is.  Voices from both sides would be heard, guaranteeing bi-partisan decisions.  When a tough choice need be made Charlie, with the sage advice of Linus, would not waver.

     Maybe Charlie Browns world is over simplified and unrealistic, but is it really?  If enough people put their shoulder to the wheel we can certainly move in that direction.  It would begin in the hearts of each one of us.  It is a goal worth striving for.  All I know is, when a Charlie Brown show is over, I feel better.

     This is one of my favorite quotes from Chuck. 

         “This is my depressed stance. When you're depressed, it makes a lot of difference how you stand. The worst thing you can do is straighten up and hold your head high because then you'll start to feel better. If you're going to get any joy out of being depressed, you've got to stand like this.”

     Let’s all straighten up and hold our heads high.

THINGS THAT BOTHER ME #4

     So I’m watching a news show on TV.  It could just as easily happen during a sporting event but this time it happened to be a news show.  There are several expert commentators sitting at a table with a moderator directing questions to each.  What happened when they came back from a commercial break and began their session annoyed me so much I can’t even remember what the hell it was they were talking about. 

    It started with an innocuous crawl (I believe that is what the media calls a narrow band at the bottom of the TV screen with a moving message going from right to left) going across the bottom of my screen.  Naturally, my eyes are drawn to it as it has some kind of flashing lights indicating it is an alert of some type.  I try to catch a few words to get the drift of what the alert is and then quickly glance back to the main part of my screen to follow the commentators riveting answer to a question from the moderator.  I find during my mental absence I have missed a few key words and thus have no clue as to the context of the discussion. 

     Returning my eyes to the crawl line I come in just in time catch a few critical words that must have been preceded by some very important words, which I missed.   I do a quick rewind to backpedal to those words and pick up from there.  I invariably go too far, have to forward to where I want to be, go too far again but eventually get to the right place.  Now I can follow through on the crawl line train of thought but have lost all mental contact with the panel discussion.  I think I need to get a piece of black tape that covers the bottom part of my screen so the crawl line is not visible or a big piece of cardboard I can tape across the big portion of my screen so all I can see is the crawl line. 

     I’m not saying I have trouble walking and chewing gum at the same time but it is hard enough digesting a verbal or a written statement of any importance all by itself without trying to digest both at the same time. 

     To make matters worse, this particular show then began streaming some kind of charts and graphs or something on one side and then later some video of someone talking on the other side and pretty soon all I could see in the middle was the face of one of the commentators.  God knows what they were saying because there were 2 voices talking at the same time and all the other stuff and the crawl line, I just changed channels.

     Do you feel me?

ARCHIVES

  

                                                          

   I have a file in my mind, known only to me, called Archives.  It is a place I store vivid memories and images that are etched there forever.  All are pleasant and all bring a smile to my face.  Last Sunday a new image was added to the file.

     I was down in the dumps after my favorite team had lost the night before, I know it’s just a game, but what can I say?  I was preparing to spend the day watching football on TV which is how I deal with putting a tough loss behind me.  Kind of like my way of treating a sort of hangover.  Out of the blue, my daughter Romy calls.  She had her favorite Starbuck’s coffee in hand and was preparing for a walk along the beach.  It was one of those spectacular mornings and did I want to join her.

     As I drove down to Crystal Cove I could see why she called.  It was one of those see-forever days, not a cloud in the sky, you could seemingly reach out and touch Catalina Island and a stiff breeze pushed ashore the smell of sea weed and salt water.  All things I love, which Romy knows, hence the phone call. 

     We walked through the tunnel that goes underneath Pacific Coast Highway to the beach.  It was cold by California standards, about 50 degrees with a stout 25 knot wind making it hood-up sweatshirt, hands stuffed in the pockets weather.  We contemplated a walk along the beach but decided we needed some nourishment first. 

     High up on a bluff overlooking this beautiful stretch of shoreline is a Ruby’s.  Those that have driven this stretch of highway between Newport Beach and Laguna Beach know this as the Date Shack.  A must stop for many years, the Date Shack ceased operations but Ruby’s stepped in, kept the quaint shack as close to original as possible and most importantly, kept the date shakes.

     Romy and I climbed the stairs up the hill, ordered our traditional date shakes and split a turkey sandwich on squaw bread.  As we ate our lunch we looked down on the beach and saw a flock of sea gulls sitting on the sand, taking a break from the relentless wind.  Romy decided to keep a half a slice of the bread to feed the sea gulls when we went on our walk. 

     Returning to the beach we walked up the coast toward the sea gulls.  When we got close Romy broke off a small piece of the bread and threw it toward them.  The entire flock of about 15 birds rose in unison and began hovering just downwind from us.  The wind was strong enough that they could almost remain motionless with their wings outstretched, poised in the air waiting for Romy to throw them a piece of bread. 

     As she heaved the pieces of bread skyward the sea gulls would swoop and dive to be the lucky bird.  Romy, facing her birds a scant few feet above her, blond hair blowing in the wind,  had the biggest smile on her face and was giggling like the little girl fathers always remember their daughters being. 

     We ran out of bread, the sea gulls slowly dispersed and we continued our walk.  Not many words were said and I’m not sure Romy realized I had a new entry for my Archives file.  We walked until we were too cold to continue, returned to our cars and said good bye.