Love Story: John and Carolyn

 

Like most of us, I have been watching Love Story on Netflix. I have found the series interesting and am eagerly awaiting the "death" episode. For some reason, though, my own memories of John Kennedy Jr. seem to be at odds with what I have been enjoying on the screen. 

I remember him on Monday, November 25, 1963. when he saluted. I remember when George came out. I never read it, my library never ordered it but I remember seeing it at the newsstand at airports. I remember it was expensive. 

The next time his name crossed my radar was when he died. I had passed Essex County airport next to the Hangar, an airplane centered bar that featured old airplanes in the dining room. I never remember seeing him on television or in magazine articles. Yet in the series, he is portrayed as this mega celebrity that dominated the tabloids. I don't remember that at all.

One interesting aspect of the series is the depictions of Caroline and Ethel Kennedy. They are both shown as tough cookies. Maybe that is the one thing I have gotten out of the series. 

Old report cards

 

I've been going through my personal archives and I came across my old report cards from when I was in elementary school. My father was a bit of a pack rat and he saved them along with my Iowa test scores. In some ways there is a lot of similarity to my old report cards and the performance reviews I obtained during my working life. In all cases I am generally well-reviewed with one notable exception. Consistently, through my grade school appraisals, the line "keeps desk neat" is not checked. As a fifty-year-old, my performance review also indicated I need help in keeping my work area neat. I never changed. 

My appraisal from my second-grade teacher is of particular interest. Because of my age (as a December baby I was the youngest kid in the class) and my attachment to mother and Arthur Godfrey, I didn't have the social skills consistent with a six-year-old.  While the teacher was going off topic and describing her trip to Atlantic City my mind wandered off to imagining the Maguire sisters in rehearsal. When she asked me if I had ever been to Atlantic City I responded with "what?". The teacher requested that my hearing be checked. After a test with an audiometer by the school nurse (instead of saying yes to hearing the tone I said, "I can hardly hear it"). Mother was called and made an appointment with my pediatrician. 

In a highly rigorous test the pediatrician stood at one end of the office and whispered "cat" and I shouted back at the other end, "cat". Then he whispered "table" and I shouted back "table" and so on. The doctor said I didn't appear to be hard of hearing at all. The problem was that I was a daydreamer, 

People don't really change, Lazy kids become lazy adults. Sneaky kids become sneaky adults. Sadly, poor kids become poor adults. 

The Belmar St. Patrick's Day Parade

 

When I moved to Denver Colorado, I was told that to be a Colorado native I had to own property and go to the Stock Show in January. In New Jersey, to be a New Jersey native you have to march in or attend or have relatives who have marched in the Belmar St. Patrickk's Day Parade. If your grandmother marched in the parade while attending a Catholic high school in Red Bank, you are a native of the state of New Jersey, If your uncle marched in the parade with the Elizabeth Fire Department, you are a New Jersey native. 

Otherwise, you may live in New Jersey, work in New Jersey or even pay property taxes in New Jersey but you can never be a true New Jerseyite. You will always be an outsider unless you have some close connection to the Belmar St. Patrick's Day Parade. There is still time. It on March 28 this year. 

the Hole

 

As we get over the big snowstorms, one feature of my neighborhood that has remained resilient is the hole, After the storm is was covered with snow and forgotten. Then as the snow was removed by the plow it re emerged. First it was a silver color as the snow begat water which begat ice. Now that the ice has melted and we are in the early days of March it has become a brownish water filled color. When the water evaporates it will become a blackish brown. It will become quite hot in the summer, a cauldron of hot tar.  In the fall it will be covered with leaves. 

The hole has its uses. In driving home I know I live two doors past the hole. Visitors are told that I live two parking spaces away from the hole. The hole changes with the seasons, like the flowerpot in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I have become attached to the hole. It acts as a calendar, a weather report, and a signpost. 

Editor's note: With apologies to Wink Martindales's Deck of Cards

They patched the hole. My blog is influential after all. 

ESP Records

ESP Rccords was one of the more esoteric record labels that came about in the sixties. They were New York based and featured a lot of modern jazz and beat writers. I was watching the recent PBS program on Sun Ra when it occurred to me that I had an excerpt of him on my "ESP Records Sampler". As a young man I often ventured in the city and perused record stores and bought cheap jazz records. In Times Square. I discovered this sampler for 99 cents. I brought it back to my college dorm and impressed the Beat generation followers across the hall with the record which featured Ismael Reed, Allen Ginsberg, the Fugs, Gregory Corso, and William S. Burroughs. Each selection was about a minute long so listening to the album was a disjuncted  if interesting experience. 

Side One on YouTube     Side Two on You Tube

Tariffs

 

Here is a brief history of tariffs in the United States. An update on yesterday's NPR Marketplace,

There is a rumour that everyone is going to get thousands of dollars as a refund on the Trump tariffs. I am divided on renting a summer place in Rehoboth and getting a new car. 

Cheap toilet paper is better for your plumbing

 

Cheap toilet paper is better for plumbing, at least according to this article. It's nice to find out about something that is cheaper and better at the same time. Does not happen often. Personally I like the nice scratchiness of cheaper bathroom tissue.