Thursday, May 17, 2018

Harry and Meghan



Well I wrote a blog for William and Kate, so here is one for Harry and Meghan. It is great to know that all the troubles in the Middle East, the President's lawyer and the Koreas are gone. At least no one is paying attention to anything except the wedding. Even public television is doing gossipy talk shows about the event.

This wedding is more exciting than the last one because it has all the elements of drama. A red haired prince who has a propensity of getting into scrapes, a glamorous bride who was on Suits. I never watched the show but I know all about it now. The father who won an Emmy for lighting on General Hospital, won the lottery, and now is living in Mexico. It should all be exciting. Almost worth getting up early on Saturday.

My solution to who should walk Meghan down the aisle is to use a hologram of the father. She could be escorted down the aisle by a 3 dimensional image.  That would be historic. Still I think it is a bit cheap not buying lunch for the invited guests who will linger outside. At the very least they should get egg and cucumber sandwiches.

Sunday, May 13, 2018

The ice cream truck

I was just reading a nostalgic piece on summertime and ice cream trucks. I too remember a hot summer's evening, sitting outside with the family and hearing the ice cream truck. You'd hear the little song and you'd confiscate money from Dad and run out to the street ready to buy ice cream. The ice cream, usually on a stick, was bought and quickly eaten with our order for mother in tow. I liked coconut on the outside.

Overpriced and inconvenient (right after every one had already had dessert) it must be a pain to be a parent when you hear that song. If you give in you're out eight dollars. If you are firm the kids are screaming and crying. The act like they are being doused in hot oil.

I remember it was a pleasant Saturday night and Mother was giving me my bath. I heard that little jingle and burst into wailing and crying. I had missed the Good Humour truck. Downstairs later and eating scooped ice cream from the fridge, the incident was over. My tears had dried and I was clean. And Dad still had that change where it belonged. In his pocket.

Saturday, May 12, 2018

Happy Mothers Day

To all our mothers in the blogasphere here is a video of what your daughters will grow up to be.

Thursday, April 19, 2018

Aunt Agnes opines on Cynthia Nixon

At first  I was happy and grateful that one of Richard Nixon's grandchildren wanted to run for Governor of New York. Brother, that didn't last long. Turns out she is of no relation to the great man at all. Instead she is that lesbian that I never liked on that dumb show about rich girls and their shoes and so called boyfriends, "Let's have sex in New York City".

Well I always thought those girls were more interested in each other than those unlucky men they hooked up with. Turns out they were all lesbians. At least one of them was. Now I hear tell that Cynthia Nixon wants to be governor of New York. Running on free love and gender free bathrooms and money for everybody who doesn't have a job. I'm glad I don't live there. Lordy mama, what is this world coming to.


Wednesday, April 11, 2018

Offspring



I have finally finished watching Offspring. 98 shows, each forty five minutes long. After three weeks I am finally done. What is Offspring? It is a highly popular Melbourne Australian comedy/serial/drama. A show about a youngish female obstetrician who works with other people of her age. They fornicate like rabbits. She also has a large extended family that procreates like rabbits. The show is sort of a combination of Call the Midwife and Parenting. Every few minutes a baby gets born. A few minutes later someone is having inappropriate sex. I get it now. Sex then babies, sex then babies. The modern version of love and marriage. Without the horses the carriages.

Plots never progress without the interruption of a cell phone call. Every ten minutes we hear a little twinkle. Experienced viewers can recognize which of the main characters is getting a call. They always interrupt whatever direction the plot was going in. In this way the show is modern.

So what have I learned from the show? I assume it is entirely accurate about life and maternity wards in Australia. First most obstetricians work in a hospital rather than private practice. Hospitals in Australia are full of gossipers. No one in Australia can ever keep a secret. Culturally, except that bars follow the Canadian model and are often known as hotels, Australia is almost identical to Southern California. The show did not have one reference to a kangaroo that I could see.

Like American shows of its ilk, there is a certain television magic to the show. Everyone lives in beautifully decorated homes and wears trendy clothing. Where does the money come from? Unclear. People fly to England on a moment's notice. No thought is ever given to airfares.

So now I am an expert on medicine, babies, family life and sex as practiced in Australia. I'd like to have a drink at the Union Club Hotel.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Snow days part 2


When I was in the first grade on a snowy morning I noticed my big brother was listening to the radio. Immediately curious, I asked what what going on. I found out that on snowy days people had to listen to WOR and Rambling with Gambling for school closings. Coming from a Herb Oscar Anderson household, this was a novelty. We had to listen to a rambling list of school closings, Pecquanack public, Riverside Country Day School, Teaneck public and then ... finally... Hackensack public. 

Hooray! we shouted. No school today. Everybody was smiling except dear old Mother. "Well, you boys better shovel the snow before Daddy gets here". Poor Daddy was at that moment braving the subways of New York and earning the family porridge. He would arrive later that afternoon. Mother would have a shot of booze waiting for him next to the door. 

For us the hard part was getting dressed. I had snow pants which I put over my regular pants. I remember they were white and required lots of work to get on. Years later when I was in high school I would ask my mother if I should put on my snow pants. I wonder what ever happened to them. Then came the gloves and snow hat. 

We finally went outside and  shoveled. After the shoveling was over we got on the sled and cavorted down Kaplan Avenue. If we still had energy we might then build a snow man or have a snowball fight with the neighborhood kids. After that it was time for hot cocoa. Snow days back in the day were a special treat. They've never been quite so much fun as a grumpy adult. 

Editor's note: I never found the article I wrote for Junior High Lights. I remember in the article writing about twisting the radio dial and coming upon a preacher who wanted his audience to "repent, repent I tell you". 

Saturday, March 17, 2018

Do you know where your children are?


I've been listening to public radio and there have been discussions about the seventeen minutes walkout among students nationwide. Some schools ignored the situation, others tried to organize the protest themselves. Some schools made the kids walk to a certain location for the sake of "safety". One Catholic school had a prayer breakfast. (Guess they have to get that prayer in somehow).

It made me think about how in our high school days we got away with stuff that kids today would never get away with. I remember marching from Van Saun Park to Fairleigh Dickinson in New Jersey for the October 1969 Moratorium. I doubt my parents had any idea where  I was during that period of time. Once a few of us went to the Cooper Union in New York to pick up underground newspapers. Mom and Dad probably assumed I was somewhere in town that afternoon, not in a different state.

Senior cut day. Again I don't think my mother even knew that I wasn't in school that day. Not to say in Van Saun Park. Driven there in an adult free car. There were no cell phones either to keep tabs on us. Young people today are monitored much more closely than we were, for good or for ill. I guess the parents feel better safe than sorry.