Jackson Hole

 

When I was a librarian at the Department of Labor, I knew I could look forward every fall to getting, and cataloguing, the Federal Reserve Board publication on the papers and speeches of the Jackson Hole event. 

People often wonder why such an august event is held in a vacation destination in the Grand Teton National Park. The consensus is that it is held there to provide a bit of fresh air to the beleaguered officers of the Federal Reserve Board.  Apparently, Paul Voelker hated meetings but loved to fly fish. Fishing, hiking, and lavish dinners make the weekend a fun one for the participants. I wonder if they fly commercial or take private planes to get there. 

The new chairman, in his opening speech, references the hiking trails and the hiking styles of various officers. This statement evoked the nervous laughter that appears when your boss makes a joke. "He made a joke!" and everybody guffaws. He then went on to hint at future rate hikes. Wall Street was not amused. 

Harry Partch

 

At some point in my college career I discovered Harry Partch. In the early 70s possibly in New York or perhaps at the junk store Browse on Route 4 in Fairlawn, New Jersey, I bought the World of Harry Partch. Harry Partch was an avant garde composer and an inventor of instruments (some of his instruments are in the Smithsonian). I remember playing his music on one of my college radio shows at Rutgers. 

I remember showing off my collection of Harry Partch, Pharoh Sanders records and the ESP Sampler in my parents' basement. My girlfriend at the time, a music major, said, "Oh ----- you like anything that's weird!". I was getting a reputation at school for liking weird music and even playing it on the radio. 

Recently I rediscovered Mr. Partch. There is a nice live performance of Castor and Pollux on You Tube. The performers are having so much fun, at times skipping across the stage. Since Mr. Partch produced the instruments with his own keys built in, it is not as difficult to play as it may seem. 

After missing my long-lost album of fifty years I have bought a new copy of the World of Harry Partch on Ebey. This time with no scratches. 

The old men discuss AOC

• Jack: So Henry ya heard the latest?
• Henry: Nope.
• Jack: AOC is freezing her eggs.
• Bill: Well Wilma does that occasionally to that pasta she makes, but I've never heard of freezing eggs.
• Jack: Not that kind of eggs, AOC that Spanish politician lady who talks so much. The biological eggs. 
• Henry; Well I don't know. I think there are things in this world that a man doesn't need to know. 
• Bill: She wants Medicare for all.
• Henry: I hope that doesn't pass through Congress. The doctor's office is already too busy. If anything, they should raise the age of Medicare.  

 

Wine Moms

 

I just read an article about wine moms.  Apparently they are the new force in the Democratic party. Wealthier than soccer moms, they have the money to donate to candidates who support things like Medicare for all. 

The question the pundits are asking is whether wine moms will support socialist leaning candidates or in the end will they be frightened off and instead vote Republican in November. Wine moms don't want their daughters to lose out on scholarships because they have to compete with trans boys. 

I'm confused

Recently I've noticed that the left leaning media is sending up videos of Trump, Vance, Hegseth and other Republican office holders. Conversely, I've noticed that Fox is constantly giving us pictures of Mandani, AOC, and El Sayed. if you kept the volume down you might even think that the New York Post is endorsing AOC and Mandani since their images are all they seem to feature. You Tube is full of videos telling us that when you vote for socialism, communism is around the corner. 

Fox and other right leaning channels have given up on Trump and have moved to terrifying viewers by focusing on Democratic socialists.  Instead of talking about the current state of affairs, they are terrifying us by showing us socialists who are masquerading as Khruschev in disguise. 

Murder in the Mountains

 

Since the government cut off funding for PBS, I've noticed more documentaries and fund raising on the tv stations. I've been watching fewer foreign police procedurals there too, except for Friday and Sunday nights. However, I've discovered there are lots of foreign police procedurals on Passport, the streaming service open to paying subscribers only. Many of these shows are offered by British Channel 4's Walter Presents. 

My personal favorites are the old standby, Murdoch and the Austrian series, Murder in the Mountains. M in the M beautifully captures the Alps and features a decent story line. Granted the characters in the cast are rather prosaic. There is the on again off again romance of the leads, the doofus assistant, the tetchy coroner. 

For some reason, Countess and the Chef turn up on every show. Since they have no official position in the police force their constant presence is a mystery to me. 

Editor's note: Maybe PBS is trying to get money out of the freeloader's love of the genre. They now have to pay for their police procedurals. 

Social Media vs. Transistor Radios

 Internationally, there have been attempts to limit younger teens from exposure to the evils of social media. Europe is also now considering legislation to limit access for the pre and early teens. The usual suspects are Tik Tok, Facebook, YouTube, Instagram, and others. Australia is implementing a program to limit users by age but the kids are getting around it. 

The only equivalent media product that I can think of was the teenager of the late fifties and mid sixties was the addiction of the young to AM radio. I can remember adults complaining, "No wonder the kids can't learn anything when they have those transistor radios glued to their ears eyeryday. 

I didn't bag my plums

 

Yesterday, being a Saturday, I knew my usual supermarket, S, would be ridiculously overcrowded. Being a sharp shopper, I opted to go to the other major supermarket chain, which we will call A. It was not crowded, and, being a judicious shopper, the prices were not too bad. I dumped some plums into the cart. I did not use the little plasticine bag, as is my wont. I always make a mess tearing the bag off the receptacle and I suspect there is a charge for them. 

I chose to use a real checker, since there was only a tiny line and deposited my groceries onto the belt. The clerk looked up at me, ruefully. "So you are going to let those plums roll around?" she queried. I then tried to be helpful and put the three plums together on the queue. 

At the end of the checkout, she refused to bag the plums. She put them in a separate place and helpfully informed me, "You should always put fruits in the baggies, or they will get bruised on the way home."

I then proceeded to dump the plums into the supermarket bag I brought from home and remarked, "Oh don't worry I'm sure they'll be fine." 

I guess being a man she assumed that shopping was not a task I had mastered. Probably my wife was laid up and I that forced me to do this unfamiliar chore. At the S store, they could care less about what I did with my plums. I guess that is why A is more expensive. Because of their exceptional customer service. The plums did not look bruised. At least to my masculine eyes. 

Happy Father's Day

 Here's an oldie but goodie. Happy summer too!

Furniture shopping from the dumpster

 

Last week I was at a dinner and the conversation turned to buying furniture. One person recommended Ikia, another recommended an antique store in Lambertville. I thought to myself "I just got a table, too!" when I reconsidered what I would say next. Truth to be told I just found a nice plant table next to the dumpster where I lived.

To think of it, a lot of my furniture consists of tables and things I found lying next to the condo dumpster. I never look for things that way it's just that while tossing my kitchen refuse, I sometimes notice a nice table or stool propped up against the garbage bin.  I take pity on it and welcome it to my home. 

Occasionally I see an old pickup truck next to the dumpster that picks up stuff my neighbors have thrown out. My building must have a good reputation for the cast-off effluvia of modern life. 

Enjoy your Memorial Day

 Here's a post from a few years back. 

My quickest trip to the Jersey shore

 

If you live in New Jersey, the summer always brings on thoughts of the Jersey shore. Memorial Day is the traditional start of the summer season.  Often disappointing, the Jersey shore can be wet and cold and clammy, like it is today. Still, it always beacons to the Jerseyite as that potential paradise, a quick ride down to Parkway, to that bucolic if crowded institution, the shore. 

Our family did go to the shore occasionally, but it was an occasional, not a frequent excursion. My mother sunburned easily and my father could not swim, so at best we made it there maybe twice a year. 

One year my maiden aunt told my father that she had rented a place in Avon for a few days and we could meet her on the beach. Avon was a pleasant Jersey town, a little more exclusive than Asbury Park, and the family looked for a nice excursion that would check off the shore as well as the Aunt Rose visit from the calendar. 

It was a pleasant day. Once we got to the beach my older brother took his shoes off. One foot in, he stepped on a bee. The foot swelled up and he had a bad allergic reaction. Aunt Rose waved to us in the distance. My mother looked at Jim and (she was a nurse) decided he needed to go the emergency room. 

My father yelled at his sister, "Sorry Rose we have to take Jim to the hospital. He stepped on a bee. So long!"

Aunt Rose yelled, "But you just got here!"  

We drove back. Leaving Avon, I piped up with 
"Look, there is a sign for a hospital"

Mother: "No I don't trust these south Jersey hospitals. We're going to Hackensack." 

By the time we got to Hackensack Jim's swelling had dissipated.  We went home and I went to Pete's Pizza on Essex Street and got a pie. My shortest trip to the shore. 

Hospital hotels

 

After a recent day as an outpatient, I have been inspired to propose a new type of hotel. A hospital hotel. This hotel would provide no health services but would try to duplicate the experience of a hospital stay. So many people coming home from the hospital say they would like to experience their hospital stay again, but without having to get sick. These hotels would try to duplicate this exciting and comforting experience.

The experience would enfold at check in. The "patient" would have to answer a long list of questions, including their favorite sports as a child. The "patient" would then have to show a copy of the deed to his house, in case he might have to quit claim his home to the hospital for unpaid expenses. Then he would be put in a wheelchair while an orderly would bring him on a madcap ride through the metes and bounds of the hospital until he was brought to his temporary lodgings, Now he would attempt to put on a hospital gown. I think I put mine on backwards. 

In his hospital bed he would then be handed a remote control where he could watch television commercials. Eventually he would be given a menu for lunch. 

With his arm attached to a blood pressure machine that takes his bp at random times throughout his stay, and his finger attached to a do hicky that does something unkown the "patient" is immobilized. If he wants to go the bathroom he has to push a button to summon a nurse. 

After a long wait the staff comes back and prepares him for a procedure. Now the bed is rushed through the corridors at lightning speed where he is brought to another room where he is deposited and has to wait several hours until the procedure. Since this is a hotel instead of a hospital, the procedure is a lie down akido exercise.

After the procedure   the "patient" and his bed is raced through the corridors and returned to his room where lunch is waiting for him. Cold soup and a turkey sandwich are consumed. At dismissal the patient would again enter a wheel chair where he would be rushed at lightning speed, hopefully to a waiting car. Hospital hotels would be a swell way to duplicate the pleasures and comforts of a hospital stay. 

 

the Catholic Dilemma

 

Catholics have long suffered the contradictions that lie with being a good Catholic and supporting liberal causes. This has often led to theories that the Kennedy family and Biden  should be banished from the Catholic church. Like many Democratic officeholders who are publicly seen attending mass and then appoint pro-abortion judges, support trans rights and who are themselves divorced, in many cases more than once.

For those of us raised on a study of the Baltimore Catechism, religion can lead to a moral discomfort... I once worked with a woman who meticulously read the obituary section of the paper every day. When asked why she had such a morbid habit, she replied that she was checking to see if her ex had died. It was important to her because the notice of such a passing meant she could receive Communion at church. 

People who go to mass, or try to go to mass when convenient, then vote for candidates who support gay rights, divorce, transexual rights, legal abortions, and the right of a Palestinian state in the homeland of the bible are what is known as "cafeteria Catholics". Others staunchly vote Republican because of a belief that such candidates, unseemly as they may be, support the rule of God as they were taught during Confirmation lessons. 

Another tenet of the church is that of papal infallibility. I was taught in Sunday school that a pope cannot err. But what happens when a pope disagrees with an American president, over what the president perceives as a religious war?  This leads to a new type of Catholic, the cafeteria Catholic upended by the food court Catholic. This individual not only chooses different plates from the steam table but chooses from completely different cuisines. 

A voyage through the Strait of Hormuz

Just reading about Trump supporting a deal  on the Strait of Hormuz. Here is a suggested flyer to be presented to ships at the head of the strait. 

Welcome to the Strait of Hormuz

We hope you enjoy your journey through the historic Strait. Here are our prices, subject to change:

• Oil tankers 1 million dollars
• Ship carrying fertilizer $500,000
• Ship carrying food $400,000
• Ship carrying consumer goods $600,000

Other items? Give us a call.

Hungry? We sell the following: Lamb dorma, Chicken dorma, and Trump dorma for ten dollars per take out order.

Frequent customer?

Every time you travel the strait you will get a point. Ten points entitle you to a free voyage and a leather embossed shell casing of a U2-47. 

Photographers note: You may photograph the strait and its wildlife but we do not encourage the saving of images of our military installations and vessels.

Have a safe voyage! 😂😂 As-Salam-u-Alaikum!

 

Astronauts are again in the news

 Tonight astronauts are taking off from Cape Canaveral and orbiting the moon. I remember watching the moon landing from a bed and breakfast tv in Avon, New Jersey. Here is an old blog about the earlier Gemini era. 

YouTube travel videos

 

I have to admit I watch a few YouTube travel videos. Since people always ask me about free travel videos. here are the links to the ones I regularly follow:

Adventures and Naps:

https://youtu.be/71rE5xIUokI?si=Z88nQJNhgOahwc8d

That blonde woman in the isles of Scotland.

https://youtu.be/mlmFSDO_q1I?si=j-p_XP-DG0eIEgog

A Likeable couple that was also doing Scotland but is now documenting their Queen Mary half way round the world tour ending in Sydney,

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCBhQuxcHU3aydk_zTXcbdTg

The redhead and the guy who gets in accidents, Cute.

https://www.youtube.com/@Theendlessadventure

Life in France. Okay

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xCryJcPZSEQ

Eva in Africa. Driving in the dessert. 

https://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=eva+zu+beck

 

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 it 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. 

Retirement in bad weather

 

When you have a job, a snowstorm might mean a day off. Unfortunately, the next day means back to work. You get up early, do some last minute shoveling, then scrape ice off of your windshield. Then you drive to work, After a few swear words you are at work and walk in the doors of the office (or in my case, the library). Life at the office begins. Unless you up to a brisk walk at lunchtime you are in the world of work, work tasks, work gossip, and you forget about the weather. 

When you are retired, you are preoccupied with the weather. You check the temperature every hour. You check the weather report every hour. You are engrossed with news stories about the storm. You methodically plan a trip to the supermercado. You run to the window every time you think you hear the snow plow. Alas no snow plow. You watch the local news to see how other cities are doing. You think, "Boy I'm glad I don't live in Reading."

When you are retired, you are constantly preoccupied with the weather. You become your parents.  Just like in that insurance commercial.

Uncle Floyd died

 

In 1974 I graduated from college with no job awaiting. It was the recession and I had been an English major and I moved back home. I got a job selling hot dogs at Two Guys, traveled to California, eventually through family connections got a CETA job. During all this time I got in the habit of  watching Uncle Floyd on UHF channel 68. At that time UHF was known for its less than perfect reception. I could get ghosty images for channel 31, WNYC television and channel 68 which featured Uncle Floyd. Similar to Soupy Sales, Uncle Floyd was a local live tv show ostensibly for children but was picked up by older kids and adults who should have known better. I even have his big hit single, Deep in the Heart of Jersey. 

Over the years he migrated from station to station, from format to format. I remember he did a show where he showcased different main streets in the state. When I was a librarian in Bloomfield, the public cable station, also located in the library, featured him in a benefit show. I got to see him by sneaking into the Little Theatre during coffee break. 

Uncle Floyd had a varied career, but will always be remembered as the one New Jersey celebrity more precious in a way because unlike Frank or Bruce, you can identify yourself as a New Jersey native by your knowledge of this great New Jersey icon. Flags should be at half-staff tomorrow to commemorate Uncle Floyd.