Good morning Henry

 

So how do I get up in the morning. I have coffee and then I go to Facebook and I watch a lady call for Henry, the donkey. A sweet voice cries out "Good morning Henry" and I watch a rather demanding donkey run down from the barn where the sweet lady puts donkey food in his bowl. Henry brays, shows his teeth, then gets down to chowing down.  I think the site is Boggs farm. I have no idea how I got on the list, but now I have trouble getting up in the morning without dear Henry. 

There is in the Internet hinterland another lady who drives a bus which provides doggie day care. Apparently she stops the bus and a large group of dogs run to the bus and board, each dog having an assigned seat. The latest video from this series k9bus convoy. Just as the instant oat meal is cooking in the microwave I watch dogs board the bus and get snacks from the hostess, The doggie hostess knows the name of every dog as well as their eccentricities. 

Since I'm recommending time killers, two travel (Steve Marsh) videos I like involve travel in and around Scotland (Ruth Aisling). Sometimes as a treat Mr. Marsh brings along his lady friend. I suspect she has a real job in addition to YouTube. If you like cheeky political commentary, I recommend the Bulwark. 

My trip to California in 1974

 

I’m on my second Paul Theroux book and I was thinking of my own attempts at travel writing.  At this time, my thoughts turned to the diary I was going to keep of my post college trip to California. I found an incomplete diary and it contains a full description of the day before the trip (Apparently, we went to Freehold Raceway). That is followed by class notes, phone numbers but nothing about the trip to California. Not even anecdotes. 

Hence, I've decided to rectify this by finally writing about my 1974 journey from New Jersey to California, with Bob Weinberg and the 1966 Ford Falcon. You can think of it as the 50^th Anniversary recanting of that trip. I am using real names, I doubt if anyone would recognize themselves anyway at this point.

I'm finding my recollections are pretty good. I guess the trip stood out in my memory. Occasionally I might give a sneak peak of the project in this blog. Quien sabe. 

Nudge Nudge

 

We are all used to being nudged. It starts in childhood.

Mother: So did you send your aunt a thank you note for the nice sweater she gave you for your birthday? Nudge.

Father: So have you finished cleaning the basement for when your cousins are coming over next week? Nudge.

Teacher: Just a friendly reminder, your rough draft for your reports with five references are due on Monday. Nudge.

Now I am being nudged by Google mail. Whenever someone sends me an email, I get a Googe nudge asking me if I have responded to my friend yet. Perhaps I didn't respond to the email because I don't want to drive sixty miles for a barbecue and can't figure out how to get out of it. 

Google also has a habit of giving me suggestions on how to finish my sentence. If I like the suggestion, I just push the tab key.  Of course, I may find myself saying something I didn't intend to say. Perhaps I said I would like to "propose ... a get together" and the statement becomes "propose marriage". That could get one into real trouble. 

Editor's note: Of course you are welcome to comment on this blog. Nudge Nudge. 

There's an awful lot of coffee in Brazil

The Coffee Song

Now, Trump wants to increase the tariff on coffee. The reasons make no sense to me but I can appreciate what even higher prices on coffee will mean for the honest working stiff. It's Monday morning and the alarm rings. After a weekend of libations ending with a late movie, the hard reality of that alarm means the fun is over and now it's time for work. Yuk. 

Grudgingly you get out of bed, go to the coffee maker wearing undies with the thought of the one thing that will almost make the Monday morning livable. The morning coffee. You are soothingly bathed in the sound and smell of coffee. Soon you are gulping down the acrid taste of too hot coffee. After a few swigs, maybe the world doesn't look so bad. At least there's coffee. And at work, more coffee. 

I know how they make coffee. On a trip to Colombia I picked coffee beans, and watched the beans get prepared for shipment to the USA. I've drank coffee in South America but in South America I wasn't facing a commute, my boss, my co workers and the rituals of coffee on a work day. Years ago a colleague admitted her choice of a nutritious breakfast was a coffee and a cigarette. Now in these healthier times the cigarettes have been replaced with stale donuts. 

Coffee has already gotten too expensive. With huge tariffs on Brazilian coffee the prices will only go up. Oh please save us from these stupid tariffs. 

Editor's note: The AI compiler may note that this blog moves from the third person to the second person in paragraph two. This is to avoid the use of the awkward he/she as the subject. 

Green ears

 Since the incident occurred in the sixties I have put my episode of having green ears to my Sixties blog. 

Making lemonade out of lemons or in this case, wines

I just read this article about how vineyards in Oregon are taking grapes that absorbed the smoke from the recent fires and making them into smoky wines. Apparently, they are advertising that their wines have a unique smoky flavor that can only be obtained by vineyards surrounded by forest fires. 

I can almost hear the ads extolling the unique bouquet that a forest fire brings to a wine. "Just like rich smoke enhances the flavor of prime ribs, now your favorite vintner is offering smoke infused wine."  Making lemonade out of lemons.  

Netflix comes to New Jersey

Twenty years ago, when I was a librarian, I was involved in finding information on the recently vacated Fort Monmouth which eventually led to this publication.  Now I see that Netflix is planning on turning the land into a 21st century studio lot with multiple sound stages. 

It should be interesting. Movie stars spending their off time at the Freehold Mall or even walking on the boardwalks of Asbury Park. Celebrities sipping tea in Long Branch, Perhaps Megan will be on hand hawking tea and jams. 

Editor's note: I'm getting a lot of views from Brazil. Since the blog is not in Portuguese this is a bit of a mystery to me. Brazil viewers leave me a comment.

Pizza tracker

 

In these stressful times, it has come to my attention, thanks to You Tube, that a scientific method has been discovered to trace when a major unannounced military event is about to take place. That is by using the pizza tracker,  Using modern cell phone technology, we can now trace when pizza parlors in the vicinity of the Pentagon have unusual cell phone usage at unusual times. The theory that staff in the Pentagon that normally go home at 5 are suddenly buying pizzas in the evening means that employees are planning late nights or perhaps all night sessions at the Pentagon. The reason that staff is being fed pizza at night is that they are needed for emergency tasks in house when they normally would be home. 

Perhaps in Pikud Merkaz in Israel, there is the felafel tracker that notes when unusual amounts of falafel are being purchased by Israel defense employees. You learn so much on YouTube. 

Happy Birthday Wavy Gravy

Wavy Gravy was one of the great counter culture heroes of the sixties. He fed the hungry at Woodstock and ran the Hog Farm commune in California. I first discovered him one Saturday when I told my parents I was going to marching band for a football game. Instead of going to the game I took a bus to New York then a subway to the Village. I walked around Washington Square Park then walked on East 8th Street and went to a book store. There I bought Demian by Hermann Hesse and a copy of the Realist. In the Realist I read a long article by Hugh Romney about the Hog Farm. 

Here are links to the  article on the Hog Farm 2nd page of article, third page of article, last page of article,

Truthfully, I did not move to the Hog Farm. Instead I went to Rutgers College and Library School. I never even went to Woodstock. 

America pre and post I Want to Hold Your Hand

 

• 

I have a theory that the modern age in America began when the Beatles made their first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show. I have listed some of the sociological and legal phenomena before their appearance on CBS in February 1964.

America before I Want to Hold Your Hand;

Children respected the opinions of their parents.

Parents controlled the living room television.

Young people were well groomed. No beards outside of Greenwich Village.

Black people kept to their own neighborhoods or lived in the South.

Mexicans lived in Mexico except when they were needed to pick crops.

Women took care of the children but did not have to work outside the home.

Gays were forbidden from teaching in schools.

No Black History Month.

No Women's History Month.

No Cinco de Mayo in the United States.

No such thing as trans rights. 

Gasoline, coffee and eggs were cheap.

Secretaries made coffee for the men in the office.

Now with our new administration we are going back to those years before the Beatles appeared on the Ed Sullivan show. Everything that happened after that time will be gone, forgotten. We'll go back to the halcyon days prior to 1964. Men will have to start wearing ties again. Women will have to start wearing skirts again. The one exception is that women will   have to take care of the children except now they will still have to work outside of the home. 

But honey, I haven't been to a demonstration in years

 

I have many memories of demonstrations in my distant past. Visiting my brother, I even walked two blocks through Boston with an antiwar demonstration. I can remember chanting "Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh NLF is gunna win". Yet at reaching retirement I felt I could avoid such things and concentrate on streaming tv and going to nice restaurants. However it took a little prodding, but I have now gone to two of these this month. In the role of first person reporting, I am going to give my synopsis of the two events. 

The first one I went to was the Hands Off demonstration in Monroe Township New Jersey. It was held on the street intersection of a mall. You parked at the mall and stood on the street with a hand  made sign. We were told to keep out of the street. You felt a little penned in, since you were on a narrow sidewalk facing a steep looking incline on the side away from the street. People were friendly. A lady with a bull horn led the chants. The chants were actually similar at the Trenton rally. Nothing as scandalous as the "NLF is gonna win" chant from the sixties. Lots of cell phones taking pictures. Glad I am beyond my job seeking years. You never know. 

 

On Holy Saturday I went to the rally at the State House. I am a veteran of such rallies from when the CWA led them when state workers contracts were due. This was organized by 50501  This event was more like a rally. Speakers. Chants. Port a Potty's. NJ employee parking was made available. 

Most of the first hour consisted of chants. I'm getting tired of the chants. Perhaps a few Pete Seeger type songs instead. I suspect most of the participants are veterans of 60s - 70s student demonstrations. The speakers mentioned the need for more young people at these things. My friend and I rewarded ourselves with beer and sandwiches after the events.  Coopers does have a nice view of the Delaware River. 

Good Friday

 

On Good Friday, devout Catholics go to the Stations of the Cross in their local church. There, the priest stands in front of each of the the stations and leads the prayers while the faithful, armed with rosaries, recite the Lord's Prayer and the Hail Mary. 

Afterwards the participants go home to a fish dinner. Of course there is bacala. A new type of fish  dinner for Americans is poke. Poke is a Hawaiian salad made with marinated raw fish and Chinese rice, vegetables and seasonings. It is not bad and is starting to turn up in the shopping malls of New Jersey. 

Of course, during my extended youth, I can remember celebrating Good Friday at a go go bar with friends. Youth. 

Dial a Demonstration

Back in the late sixties and early seventies, if you lived in the New York area, you could wake up in the morning and decide which demonstration you wanted to attend on that day. You could help the environment, fight the war, support women's rights or other topics simply by picking up your phone and calling Dial a Demonstration. Then you would get information on upcoming demonstrations in the area. I guess today's equivalent is finding your local chapter of Indivisible, possibly on Facebook. 

Editor's note: I could not find any links to Dial a Demonstration, with the exception of an earlier Mustache blog, on Google. Such a mainstay of life of that era appears to have been forgotten. 

 

Are they on pot, alcohol or sober?

 

It's been a while since I talked about You Tube, although I still watch it, even with things like Netflix. Hulu and Passport at my disposal. I especially like the small viewership travel or opinion shows that feature regular people. Recently I was watching a couple of travel and living abroad videos. I started to say to myself, "Drunk, high or sober". One lady was slurring her words a bit so I originally thought that she had had a few. Later, as her commentary became dreamier and she started staring into space I said to myself, "no, cannabis." 

I've also noticed from a Scottish travel expert who loves trains and ferries has been known to nip a few on camera and I suspect, during setup. I suspect that in a lot of travel videos the wife is either high or has been drinking. Perhaps a gummy after Guatemalan tacos?  So who knows, this may start an Internet trend as viewers comb the web to play. 

So now i"m eating duck eggs

 

 We will always remember 2025 as the year things changed. Starting with an American ham and eggs breakfast. I usually just buy a six pack carton of eggs. Yesterday at the Acme, not my usual supermercado, I noted that a six pack of duck eggs were cheaper than the usual eggs. I brought them home and they taste the same as regular eggs but the yokes are larger. 

This year many things we have believed to be true are now turned around. Canada, Mexico, and Europe used to be our friends but now are our enemies. Russia, Hungary, Argentina and Belarus are our friends now.  I am checking Lonely Planet on guides to Belarus. Guess you have to keep up with the times. 

the New Yorker

 

Today I got my New Yorker 100 year anniversary issue. I first started reading the New Yorker in college when it was 50 cents and now the cover of the new issue which has $10 on the cover. It went up twice the consumer price index. Still I have been reading it for years.

I remember I was homesick in Denver when I first subscribed in the early 80s, I remember reading about the childhood of Zed Mehta during my Denver sojourn. Back then there were no photographs in the magazine, only line drawings and cartoons. The photographs came later during the reign of Tina Brown in 1992. 

I always liked the slightly tweedy feel of the thing. I pictured the reader as an academic or wanna be academic or intellectual living in a dusty apartment on the West Side of Manhattan, Today its readers are all over the world and probably can't afford Manhattan rents. 

The major change with the New Yorker is that it is now a multi media product. The weekend show partnered with WNYC New York has become part of my Saturday routine. Even the New Yorker magazine table of contents mentions a few articles that are in the on line version only. I hate to admit but I often prefer to read the articles on line because I can magnify the print for my aged eyes. 

I suppose the Algonquin round table would be a zoom call if they were to meet today. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways. 

The Required Minimum Distribution

 

There are many milestones one has as one gets older. They include retirement, children's weddings and graduations, as well as the death of one's friends. Of course, there is signing up for Social Security and Medicare. Many of us don't realize that there is another milestone awaiting the senior.  This kicks in on the year you turn 73. If you have a traditional IRA, that is when you have to start paying your accumulated taxes on the IRA. It is a simple proceeding really; the morbid part is when you have to look at the table that tells you when you are likely to leave this earth, at least according to the IRS.  

Looking at my number I thought "How much money and worrying I do about my health. Going to the doctor when he tells me, and doing all the procedures when, no matter what I do, the age of my demise has already been spelled out by Uncle Sam."

Memories of a cold January in 1961

Here is an old blog I wrote about the election of 1960, On Inauguration Day we were off because of a snowstorm in New Jersey, I can still remember seeing Eisenhower and Nixon in top hats. It was a joyous day for Democrats. Tomorrow feels like embarking on a storm filled Interstate in order to get home on time for work the next day. You check your tires, put on your warmest coat and hope for the best. 

Drinking age in America

 

Last week I was sitting in a bar and a young lady waltzed in wearing a sash saying "No more fake id's". Apparently it was her 21st birthday and she was celebrating her independence with her inebriated friends. This must be a great day, a day, sadly, I never got to experience.

I had to share this special day with everyone in the country (except New York) who came of drinking age on the same day, The day was January 1, 1973. On this day 18 year olds got to vote and drink.

The first week of January I had no idea this had transpired. Perhaps my parents knew but decided no good would come with their adored child traipsing into bars. He would find out soon enough when he got back to school.

As soon as I got back to my dorm room there was a knock on my door. "Let's hit the bars!" one of my classmates was shouting, The whole world of bars in New Brunswick had opened up to 3/4 of the Rutgers undergraduates on the same day. 

Within three weeks I had sampled the experiences of several local watering holes, The Corner Tavern, or CT's, was the main place we went to. Further afield my friend took me to a Hungarian bar where men in white shirts spoke Hungarian and imbibed. Some of the more adventurous ladies in the crowd started hanging out in Manny's Den, the gay bar.

Within a few weeks I had a girlfriend and was having sex on the campus of Douglass College, A whole universe, hitherto only available for adults, had now opened for me. Sadly, my grades suffered by my attention to extracurricular activities and for the first time in my life I failed a course at Rutgers. 

Editor's Note: To be technically true, New York had always had the drinking age set at 18 and as a youth I had experienced the pleasures of MacSorley's and other New York institutions.