Since I donate to my alma mater, Rutgers, every year I am on the mailing list for other publications of that esteemed institution. Recently, they have been trying to cajole me into attending my upcoming reunion for the class of 1974. I am not attending for the simple reason that I didn't have any friends in my graduating class. I was in the cynical group that felt that college was a meaningless waste of time and that its only purpose was to keep young people out of the labor market. My friends all agreed with me. When September came around, I was always surprised to see that all of my friends had dropped out of college. Each year, Sophomore, Junior and Senior I had to make new friends since my old pals had all dropped out of college.
Being popular and a person of some prestige since I was on the college radio station, I had no trouble making friends. However, I have few college friends, certainly not from my class, that I could share a table with at a reunion dinner.
My father had friends from his class at Manhattan College and loved to get out his green college ring and attend reunions with Mother. They had a celebrity in the class, Dennis Day. My mother talked to him one year and asked him how much his records were worth, since we had one of them. "About ten cents", the esteemed singer and comedian answered.
Editor's note: I see from the picture that Manhattan College is now co-ed. Brother Adrian would be surprised.
Those of us with a formal education have probably grazed upon Aristotle's concept of truth. Those of us with a college education have encountered Descarte's definition of truth, too complicated to delve into here.
Happily, for many of us we are now being encouraged to see a modern interpretation of truth. In the future, we will be able to deny things have happened that may have negative impacts on our lives.
The employee will now be able to say, "Oh no I didn't come in late" even if that is far from the truth. For now if you deny, deny, deny, your falsehood will be able to be accepted as true and legally binding.
If you say something false in order to elucidate a greater truth if not entirely factual statement you will be admired as a sage. Boys who break windows with their softballs will now be exonerated if they lie and all the parties will now agree that if one says something untrue but in a forceful manner, it will be accepted as if from the word of the Gospel as it will be directionally correct.
Recently I was reading Slate and discovered that Beyonce and Bob Dylan have their own whiskeys. That got me thinking about the whiskeys of my youth.
One of the affectations of adolescence is to appear to be knowledgeable about adult things like the pros and cons of fine whiskey, I remember declaiming about my preference for George Dickel over Jack Daniel's in my dorm room. Although I was only parroting what I had heard my friend's older brother say, it gave me the air of being a man about town to the co-eds I was trying to impress.
Once on a trip to Texas to visit mother's kinfolks, Mother brought back a bottle of white lightning. Her people lived in a dry county so my mother was assured the liquor was locally, if illegally, sourced. I remember it had a piece of charcoal at the bottom. Sometimes the bottle would get trotted out at family parties for entertainment. Many years later when Ma and Pa retired in Texas, I always went to the liquor store in Longview Texas (affectionately called the Baptist Bookstore) for their cheap Dickel. While hard to find in New Jersey it was plentiful in Texas.
Today I usually just order a Jack Daniel's when I'm at a bar. Where I'm known, they pour it when they see me.
It's time the Democrats aim a bit at the old grouchy men at the bar. Most of us wouldn't recognize those celebrities at a police lineup
Robert F. Kennedy has dropped out. He was such an entertaining character. He would have confused uninformed voters that he represented the Kennedy line instead of all the weird stuff. Apparently, he offered his services to Kamala but she said "no thank you".
If Kamela started her name with a "c" the Spanish pronunciation of camela would be obvious. Because her name starts with a "k" the tendency is to anglicize the pronunciation so that "ka" rhymes with "cat".
I'm getting tired of Tim Walz constantly touching his heart, I'm always afraid he's having a cardiac episode. The praying bit is also getting a bit old.
Men should wear ties at conventions and women should wear dresses. T shirts are for the beach not serious political gatherings.
The counting of delegates is a serious occasion. Hip hop music belongs in the nightclub not the convention.
True I have supported Democratic causes in the past, but my text messages are inundated with pleas for money. Okay, I get it.
Too many relatives on the stage. Just because you saw your aunt ten years ago at Grandma's wake doesn't entitle you to go on the platform and drone on about how the candidate served you ice cream when you were five.
Like many recent college graduates, I ended up in a Bohemian neighborhood after leaving my home in New Jersey. In some ways, I started my adult life in the Capitol Hill neighborhood in Denver Colorado. Miraculously, I found a job within two days of moving to Denver. Leaving the downtown hotels, I walked around at random and found an apartment with a "to rent" sign on East 17th Avenue. The lady wanted $125 a month and I had my new home in a railroad apartment.
This area of Northern Capitol Hill had all the earmarks of a Bohemian neighborhood. Within a few blocks was an Avant Garde theatre, a movie revival house, a hip record store, several bars, a nightclub, coffee houses and a vegetarian grocery store. One interesting feature of the grocery store was a peanut butter machine that ground peanuts and deposited the mixture to a jar placed below the machine. It's the only time I saw one of those machines.
In my spare time I worked for a fledgling radio station that never got off the ground and through my New Jersey contact got invited to a variety of art openings. The food was always good at these things. One lesson I learned is not to allow a fledgling artist to paint a living room. Lessons learned.
Over time I switched jobs and decided to buy a condo in Southeast Denver and left Capitol Hill. By that time many of the aforementioned haunts had closed and the place lost some of its luster. Today the area, like many bohemian districts, is no longer affordable for the young and recent graduates have to make do with Mom and Dad's finished basement.
Editor's note: A good guide to Capitol Hill is Phil Goldstein's Denver's Capitol Hill. I remember his walking tours where he walked backwards through the neighborhood,
I recently finished an article in the New Yorker. It is an amusing piece on the history of ties. Made me think of how ties used to be everywhere and now they are hard to find in a normal day. Growing up, wearing a tie was de rigeuer. They even remedied the danger of going to high school on your first day without wearing a tie.
A man wearing a tie meant that he was a grownup, and if you're a kid, not someone to be trifled with. Teachers, bankers, the man across the street with a briefcase, even dear old Dad. They all wore ties. For a boy, ties and jackets were worn on Sundays at church and special occasions. Fortunately for me, I attended a public school where I could dress as my mother saw fit, usually in a plaid shirt.
Ties started to fade a bit after Vatican 2. Catholics could hear the mass in English and seemingly the tie and jacket mandate seemed to fade also. I seemed to remember going relatively tie-less until I embarked on the post college job interview trail. There's the old saw about the hippie who cuts his hair, shaves his beard, and wears his late uncles' tie and jacket for an interview. Not completely a legend.
When I moved out west to pursue my fortune after being disappointed with job prospects in the northeast I lived in a relatively tie-less universe. Coming back to New Jersey to pursue my languishing professional degree, the tie manifested itself again in my life. Working as a public librarian I kept the tie on even after the dress code was revived. I figured a man with a tie could better get the attention of a group of loud teenagers hanging out on a reference area table
Apparently, it was the covid and working from home which ultimately killed the tie, at least according to the aforementioned New Yorker article. Used to working in their underwear, the returning to the office staffer was not going to suffer the indignity of wearing a tie. Anyway, ties don't work with t-shirts.
Editor's note: In many Christian denominations, ties and jackets are still generally worn at church.
We have been hearing for years that we are moving to a cashless society. For younger people especially, I have noticed that they pay for everything with a card or swiping their phones. Recently, however, I have noticed statements like "there is a five percent fee for credit cards" on restaurant menus. Getting my car fixed, I was told that I could save two hundred dollars if I paid with cash. I was surprised, but my bank happily gave me cash at the counter which I used to pay my bill. Hmmm. In additon I have noticed that when I buy gummies I have to pay cash. So much for a cashless society.
One of the stories I used to tell is of the time I slept in President Bloustein's , president of Rutgers, office. The recent stories of college students occupying offices has rekindled in me fond memories, including the time I joined a protest at Rutgers against the incursion of troops into Cambodia which ended in my sleeping in the university president's office on Old Queens. I remember marching down College Avenue, me and my sleeping bag, and finding a nice quiet niche in the office to retire for the evening.
Early the next morning Ed Bloustein arrived at his office and pleasantly but sternly told us that we had a right to protest but that we would be wise to use other means than encroaching upon his office. We all greeted the president a fond adieu and I went on to my classes, presumably after disposing of my sleeping bag in my dorm room.
Editor's note: The recent student unrest has made many baby boomers nostalgic for the good old days of Vietnam demonstrations. I suspect Generation X is not impressed.
I remember one night I was sitting in my room, age 11, listening to Mary Wells sing "My Guy" and I promised myself I would always listen to popular music, no matter how old I got. Looking back I realize I did not keep my word. From grunge to hip hop to Celine Dion to Beyonce to that new woman they always talk about, I have continued to ignore the current superstars of today.
Last week I opened up YouTube and guess who was on. I started watching Fortnite and yelled, "It's surrealism! Like Salvatore Dali!". So now I am sharing it with you. I know that people are bored with Princess Megham, so it is nice to find someone else to obsess about, even someone with a football connection. Unfortunately, I found most of her songs are too monotonous. However, I now can say I know who she is and have seen the video to one of her songs.
Part of being a child in America is the burden of selling things to the parents, their parents' friends, relatives and neighbors. I remember as a tot being given twenty packets of seeds to be sold and the proceeds going to our school. Mom and Dad bought seeds, which I duly planted in our family plot. Neighbors also bought seeds with the proviso that our family would in turn buy Girl Scout cookies. In Boy Scouts I was given Christmas wreaths to be sold. We also had to sell magazines if we wanted to be in the band.
Junior comes home from school. "I'm in the band!"
"Great, Mother says, what's that bag you are carrying?"
"Oh I have to sell twenty t shirts. They come in all sizes, How many do you want, Mom?"
Yesterday a grand niece sent me an email. "How sweet," I thought. Turns out it was from Snap Raise and it was so she could make her goal of an $850 contribution to her cheerleading squad. I gave $25. Now does that mean I can deduct $25 from her birthday gift? My friend said I shouldn't be cheap.
Have recently been perusing an article in Timeout listing America's tourist traps. Due to a life of sin, surprisingly I have been to many of these places. I have decided to comment on the choices mentioned in the article perhaps with the chance of enlightening the future traveler.
For one thing, tourist traps can be swell places to visit. For example, I loved the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
1. South of the Border | Hamer, SC
I fully enjoyed South of the Border. Great food, cheap cigarettes and fireworks. What's not to love. I still have my souvenir from the place.
Time Out US
This over-the-top rest area in South Carolina sits just below the North Carolina border (hence the name) and marled the halfway point between Florida and New York back when people drove between these two cities. It’s still fun for kids who marvel at the massive sombrero and can sneak in a ride at the amusement park, but most adults grumble at the thought of stopping here for a photo underneath the giant Mexican hat or a souvenir.
2. The original Starbucks | Seattle, WA
The first Starbucks store along the cobblestone street near Pike Place Market is a mecca for coffee lovers patient enough to wait in line for basically the same coffee they could have at any other Starbucks. In fairness, this one carries limited merchandise available for purchase and serves pour-over coffee of a special proprietary roast. But, there’s still the issue of the line, which can snake around the block during peak hours.
Never been there, have gone to Starbucks when I needed to use the bathroom.
3. Plymouth Rock | Plymouth, Massachusetts
One of the more disappointing monuments on this list, Plymouth Rock is nothing more than a disenchanting boulder, says one Reddit user. The supposed site of the disembarkation of the Mayflower is a popular tourist attraction and is also frequented by nearby students on field trips. Apparently, feeling totally let down by this historical landmark is a rite of passage for most elementary school kids in New England.
Our family liked to travel. We saw Plymouth Rock and it was small but I'm glad I got to see it.
4. Southernmost Point | Key West, FL
The southernmost point in the continental U.S. is an unimpressive concrete buoy overlooking the ocean. It’s a necessary photo opp if you’re in Key West, but not worth seeking out if you’re in the Upper Keys. You’ll also see “90 miles to Cuba” written on it; the southernmost point is closer to Cuba than to mainland Florida.
Key West is definitely worth the trip, just to see the roosters on the streets and Hemingway's cats. I saw but was not impressed by the Southernmost Point.
Corn Palace | Mitchell, SD
The world’s only corn palace gets a new look with every crop season, decked out in corn and grains from the area and themed murals. The agricultural landmark showcasing the region’s bounty is also one of the finest basketball auditoriums in the country.
Perhaps this is worth visiting after you’ve seen and done absolutely everything there is to see and do in Chicago. There’s nothing of note, says one Reddit user, citing similar places like Fisherman’s Wharf at least have sea lions and other wildlife to redeem them.
I liked Chicago but have not seen the Navy Pier.
7. The Alamo | San Antonio, TX
Complaints about The Alamo compare to most bad reviews of places you’ve already seen on TV: it’s much smaller than expected. The historic Spanish mission is where the 1836 battle between Texas revolutionary forces and the Mexican army occurred. A significant site that some Reddit users still consider a tourist trap.
Went on a family trip. Actually glad I got to see it.
8. Mount Rushmore | South Dakota, SD
People visit the South Dakota site for its massive sculpture depicting U.S. presidents George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln. The roughly 60-foot-high granite faces are a sight to behold…but also something you can Google. You might want to think this one through.
Never seen it. Probably never will, but it might be worth it.
This one was up for debate as some defended the overrun region of New York City for its incredible theater and twinkling lights—quite a spectacle to behold at night. Sure, the souvenir shops are crap and the street performers can be shady, but there’s definite magic to the Great White Way.
You haven't been to New York unless you've ridden the subway and walked through Times Square.
The debacharous strip is not for everyone, and several Reddit users consider it filthy and overrated. Still, if you’re looking for an epic party scene year-round—and on a grand scale come Mardi Gras—and massive frozen cocktails, there’s no better place than Bourbon Street.
It's been awhile but I did enjoy Bourbon Street and having a hurricane there. Love what Chuck Berry said about the place in his autobiography.
Another tourist trap I went to and enjoyed was Groman's Chinese Theatre with the handprints. Great place.
