Rant #2,309: Blonde Ambition

Yesterday, it was reported that Louisa Moritz had passed away.

She was just 72 years old, and died of heart failure.

If you don't know who she was, I could tell you that she was one of the Hollywood personalities who recently accused Bill Cosby of sexually assaulting them decades ago.

And I could leave it at that.

But there was so much more about Louisa Moritz that I would be leaving out, and that would be criminal.

During the late 1960s through to pretty much the mid-1980s, Moritz was one of the most visible, head-scratching, eye candy personalities in show business, appearing in dozens and dozens of TV shows. movies and commercials, but I don't think too many people knew her name.

Whether appearing in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" with Jack Nicholson or in a commercial promoting underarm deodorant or on "The Joe Namath Show," this lady was everywhere during her peak time, and she used her voluptuous figure and baby-soft voice to make quite a name for herself, even though viewers of her work probably didn't know who she was.

Moritz was probably the first modern day sex symbol to not hide her Hispanic background--as Rita Hayworth and Raquel Welch did--and, in fact, play off of that background to a comedic hilt.

Moritz was born in Havana, Cuba, in 1946 as Luisa Castro, and as political upheaval enveloped the country, she ended up leaving there in the late 1950s and early 1960s, coming to New York and looking for fame and stardom.

She changed her name from Castro to Moritz so there would be no link with the Cuban dictator, who she was not related to family wise, dyed her hair blonde, and as they say, away she went. And by the way, legend has it that she named herself after the Saintz Moritz Hotel in Manhattan.

She made her way to Hollywood, and she ended up being one of the last of the "it" girls in movies and TV. Whenever a sexy lady was needed for a walk on or just to dress up a scene, Moritz was often the choice to do just that.

On "The Joe Namath Show," when the macho Namath and his equally macho guests would be talking sports and shooting the breeze, Moritz would walk into the situation wearing high heels, a skin tight dress, bringing her trademark figure and blonde locks with her.

She would completely interrupt the scene to tell Namath something, or hand him something, and honestly, it was worth the price of admission just to see her do this, totally upstaging Namath and his guests although her walk on might last just a minute or two.

But Moritz was well more than that. She went to law school in between acting gigs, earned her law degree, and actually was an attorney through the 1980s and 1990s and early 2000s. In 2017, her law license was suspended for numerous, unnamed violations.

Through her spot TV and movie work, she was able to eventually buy her own hotel, which she named after the original Saint Moritz Hotel that so impressed her early on that she changed her name to celebrate it.

And when her celebrity faded, she came into the news again as one of the original seven women who accused comic Cosby of sexual impropriety, a case that her agent said will continue even though Moritz has passed on.

Moritz was married for a brief time, had a child before her marriage, but little is known of her offspring, as he was raised by relatives when Moritz went to Hollywood.

So that was, in a nutshell, the life of Louisa Moritz, whose voice and figure you probably knew way back when, but whose name probably escaped you.

Personally, in movies and TV shows and commercials that I watched growing up, she was a ubiquitous presence, always there, always there briefly, but even in her small parts and scenes, she was someone you never forgot.

R.I.P.

Classic Rant #959 (May 8, 2013): Know They Neighbor

It seemed that the nation became collectively stunned as the news of the Cleveland kidnapping case came to light yesterday.

Three young women, one who had been missing for 10 years, were found to have been kidnapped by three brothers in a Cleveland neighborhood.

One of the women actually had a child that one of her captors fathered.

And absolutely no one knew about what was going on in this house of horrors.

The three Castro brothers were that good in keeping the three women in hiding, shackling them and brutalizing them to the extent that they would not, or could not, leave.

The police had checked out the premises before, but they never went into the house.

You would think that the screams of the women would have alerted somebody that they were in there, but after a time, the screams probably turned to whimpers and then to absolutely nothing.

But you would still think that somebody would have noticed something, and that the Castro brothers would have made a slip that would alert someone that something was wrong.

Neighbors said they did not suspect anything. I heard one neighbor say that he had had barbecues where the brothers were in attendance, and he never suspected a thing.

Other neighbors said that they considered the brothers friends and acquaintances, and they were as shocked as anyone about what was uncovered about the evil deeds of these brothers.

In today's world, where we are truly mesmerized by personal devices, and social activity is not what it once was, you can say that what happened in Cleveland is a reflection on the society in which we live.

Everybody is pretty much into themselves, and they rarely move out of their own personal cocoons to view the world.

I guess you can say that, but, of course, this is an extreme case.

But people do appear to be anti-social these days, or at least not as social as they used to be.

Do anyone of us really know our neighbors and people who live in our own communities?

I know in the community I live in, we don't really know our neighbors, and this is a symptom of the problems neighborhoods face today.

When I lived in Queens, it seemed everybody knew everybody. We lived in apartment buildings, and maybe it was because of that close proximity, but our neighborhood was almost like an urban Mayberry.

When my family and I moved out to Long Island in 1971, I immediately noticed a big difference.

People lived in private houses here, and people weren't as much into the social aspect of their neighborhood as they were when we lived in the old neighborhood.

That has carried over to today, and I think modern technology and the Internet has a lot to do with that, and has made communities looser.

With all the devices we have today--and all the outlets provided by those devices--you really don't have to physically communicate with anyone anymore. You can do it through the device.

People simply aren't as social today as they were 40 or more years ago, and that hurts neighborhoods.

Sometimes, it is good for everyone to know everyone's business.

In this extreme case in Cleveland that is unfolding, it certainly would have been prudent if the people living next door, near and around this house of horrors would have known their seemingly nice neighbors a little bit better.

It certainly would have been better for these women.

Rant #2,308: I Am What I Am

This Sunday is Super Bowl Sunday, and I guess we are in the midst of Super Bowl Week, all leading up to the Big Game, Super Bowl LIII, held in Atlanta, Georgia at Mercedes-Benz Stadium

On Sunday, we had the Pro Bowl, which is a prelude to Super Bowl Sunday.

Monday was Super Bowl Monday.

Tuesday was Super Bowl Tuesday.

Wednesday, today, is Super Bowl Wednesday.

Thursday will be Super Bowl Thursday.

Friday will be Super Bowl Friday.

Saturday will be Super Bowl Eve ...

And then the Big Game will take place in the early evening of Sunday, but the coverage of the game will begin at 9 a.m. and pretty much last through the game and past the game throughout Sunday evening.

Overkill? You bet it is, but the Super Bowl has been made into a national, and in some places, an international holiday of our own creation, and there is no holiday that is hyped more than Super Bowl Sunday, and yes, it has gotten to the point that it is Christmas, the Fourth of July and any other holiday you want to name all wrapped together into one.

The marketing and promotions surrounding this game have become legendary. Manufacturers hype new products. TV networks use it as a springboard for new programs.

And alternative programmers, not knowing what to do to entice the audience that could care less about this event, broadcast programming that they think can entice people to turn over to them and watch, even if it simply takes place during the overly hyped halftime show.

This year, outlets like the WWE Network are actually going to broadcast a wrestling show--albeit for the length of the halftime show--where a six-man tag team match will be held, all to entice viewers to skip Maroon Five and the other acts performing and settle in on what they are offering--if only for 15 or 20 minutes or so.

I remember in past years, other outlets have put on some really weird stuff, like the Kitten Bowl and the Lingerie Bowl, just to entice potential viewers who have little or no interest in the Big Game to at least come on over for a few minutes.

The network carrying the game also has an opportunity to hype new series, and given the holdover audience that they have after the game, a show like "The Wonder Years" got a tremendous boost from premiering right after the Super Bowl ended. It doesn't always work--remember "The Last Precinct" starring Adam West?--but when it does, like it did with "The Wonder Years," it works like a charm.

Are you going to be watching the Big Game--that is the name that is used by advertisers who do not want to pay a fee to use the actual "Super Bowl" name, which is owned by the NFL--and if not, what are you going to be doing?

People who could care less who wins often get into the Super Bowl swing by attending parties, and some even betting on various aspects of the Big Game, everything from who will win the coin toss to who will score the first points to, of course, who will win the game.

With online betting getting more prominence in our country, you just know that the betting will go haywire this Sunday, and probably billions and billions of dollars will be spent putting money on some aspect of the game.

My family and I will not be watching or participating in any way or doing anything much related to the Super Bowl. I lost interest in football years ago, don't watch it at all, and I am sure my wife, my son and I will find something else to do on Super Bowl Sunday.

What that will be is another matter, but with Netflix and YouTube literally at our fingertips, it probably won't be that difficult to find something to watch and get involved with.

But to those who will dive head first into this--and even those who will participate even though they don't know a quarterback from a quarter back--good luck to you.

On this day of utter hype, you are certainly going to need it.

Classic /Rant #958 (May 7, 2013): Tuesday, Tuesday

Tuesday is about the loneliest day of the seven-day week.

It is the third day of the week and the second day of the work week, so it really is a runner-up to Monday, and thus, something of an also ran.

When it is Tuesday, you have completed just one day of the work week. And it isn't even as good as Wednesday, which is affectionately known as "hump day," getting over the "hump" for the remainder of the week.

Tuesday is sort of like Thursday, but on the opposite end of the week. When it hits Thursday, you are not quite there for the end of the work week on Friday. When it's Tuesday, you are just past Monday, so you have plenty of work week to go.

The "terrible Ts," I guess.

And when a major holiday falls on a Tuesday, don't we now switch it to a Monday, so it makes for an easier three-day holiday weekend?

And creative people don't really honor Tuesday much.

We do have a past hit song that talks about Tuesday, "Tuesday Afternoon" by the Moody Blues. The song hit No. 24 in 1968, and maybe it is one of the reasons that the Moody Blues aren't in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

I mean, it doesn't have the cache of "Monday, Monday" by the Mamas and the Papas, a chart topper and a true pop classic.

And then there is "If It's Tuesday, This Must Be Belgium," a film from 1969 starring Suzanne Pleshette about a trip to Europe. It is a piece of fluff, with nothing much memorable about it other than the fact that a lot of "faces" of the time pop up for cameos in the movie, including Peggy Cass (if you don't know the name, look it up).

No, Tuesday is kind of the poor stepchild to Monday, and it certainly can't hold a candle to most of the other days of the week.

It doesn't mean that Tuesday can't be a good day, it just means that Tuesday is usually an also ran, just another day in the work week that builds to the weekend.

Tuesday is Tuesday, and we will just have to move past it to get to the other days of the week.

Let's start to move! The faster, the better.

Rant #2,307: Big Man In Town

How was your weekend?

Mine was busier than I expected it to be. One thing after another got in my way as I tried to just take a break and relax, but it was what it was.

On Sunday afternoon, after helping my parents with one of their cars, my mother's car, which needed a new battery, I finally sat down to relax, although that would be a short-lived exercise, too.

I was turning the channels, and I came upon Turner Classic Movies, which was showing "Bye Bye Birdie," so without anything else to watch, I thought I would take in this film, which I have seen countless times before, including in the movie theater way back when in a double feature with "West Side Story," believe it or not.

Anyway, whenever I see this film, I kind of flash back to my youth, and one of the signature "coming of age" moments that I--and probably a lot boys my age--had when we were kids.

I never saw the movie during its first theatrical run--I was a bit too young--but when it was paired with the other movie, I was probably seven or eight years old.

At the time, I really couldn't get into musicals like this, and I don't know if I really got the film, but I certainly got the last two or three minutes of the movie, that's for sure.

Ann-Margret, who among other stars in the film is really the film's star--as it was a showcase for not only her acting ability, but her absolutely perfect womanhood, if you get my drift--comes on at the end of the film, sings the title song to the film, and then it is over.

But the filmmakers presented it in such a way that even for this seven or eight year old, it brought to light something in me which I certainly couldn't understand back then, but now, I look at it as a "coming of age" moment, when I discovered that yes, there was a difference between boys and girls.

And yes, I kind of liked that difference, even though I did not really understand what it meant.

It was as if the rest of the movie did not exist, and that few minutes of celluloid was the only thing I watched for the past two hours or so.

As it stands, it is probably one of the great closing segments in screen history, solidified Ann-Margret as a true star and the movie as a true showcase for her talents, and well, even when I see it to this day, it sends shivers up my spine.

Everybody--males and females--have "coming of age" moments, and I am sure that the ladies out there had them too. Mine kind of revolved around TV and the movies, and here is another one that I remember.

I am sure there were others, but these kind of stand out.

I was and always will be a big fan of the long-running TV sitcom "My Three Sons," and I watched the show regularly when it went from ABC to CBS and color in 1965 or so, so although it had a good life before that move--in black and white on ABC--the seven seasons it was on CBS are pretty much my benchmark for the show.

I kind of grew up with the show, grew up in parallel with Barry Livingston, who played Ernie on the show, and yes, I guess I was pretty jealous of him when finally, in about 1967 or so, a new cast member was added to the show, the first female regular role in the entire history of the series.

Tina Cole, who played Katie Douglas, the eventual wife of son Robbie, was an absolute revelation to this nine or 10 year old kid when she came onto the show as a regular member of the cast.

In the past, there was a certain type of actress that was part of the TV sitcom landscape, and they ranged from the slapstick of Lucille Ball on her various "Lucy" shows to the typical TV mothers that populated shows that I liked such as "Leave It To Beaver," "Dennis the Menace" and the like.

The women were basically tall and angular, had that real motherly look, and I guess they fit into the "mom" stereotype that we had back then.

And then there was Tina Cole ...

Blonde, voluptuous and with one the best smiles in TV history, this actress broke the pattern of even younger actresses who populated the TV sitcom landscape back then--think Sally Field or even earlier, Elinor Donohue--and her inclusion on "My Three Sons" gave that show new life, and it is acknowledged today that her inclusion on the show--and later, with the addition of Beverly Garland to the cast--probably extended its life for about five seasons.

I liked the show to begin with, but Cole's inclusion on the show made me like the show even more, although I probably did not know exactly why at the time.

And a couple of years later, when I had entered my teen years, the inclusion of another actress on a popular sitcom certainly perked up my eyes even more, and at this point, I am almost certain that I knew why.

I had been a casual viewer of "All In the Family," watching it when I did but certainly not watching it each and every week.

There were a number of spinoffs of that show, one of which was "Maude," where Bea Arthur played the polar opposite of the Archie Bunker character.

But like Archie, Maude had one child, a daughter, and that is what made that show, and this actress, into a "coming of age" moment for me.

Three actresses played daughter Carol on the show, and the only one who busted out ... err, stood out of the trio was Adrienne Barbeau. And yes, like Tina Cole, she was something different when she came on the scene, and the running joke for the past 40 years is that for 15 year old boys like me, the only two reasons we watched "Maude" was Barbeau, who played a strong willed liberal go getter wrapped in a outer package that was as close to a Playboy model as TV would allow at the time.

With her fantastic figure--which she often showcased in halter tops--and just simply overall sexuality in a time when TV was becoming more permissive--she was the perfect TV actress for boys my age.

Sure. some may have gravitated to "Charlie's Angels" and principally Farrah Fawcett, but Fawcett was all about the hair. Barbeau was all about the ...

Yes, teen boys can get carried away with their own emerging sexuality, but let's be honest about it, as Maude was campaigning for the latest liberal agenda she had, we watched the show for our own "liberal agenda," and that was Adrienne Barbeau.

Of course, there were other "coming of age" moments for all of us that are much more personal and private than the emergence of Ann-Margret, Tina Cole and Adrienne Barbeau, but just as personal touchstones, yes, these three ladies were definitely on my list of such moments.

I probably didn't get why, or at least fully why, way back when--even with Barbeau, although I do think by that time I "got it,"--but yes, looking back, those three ladies were the "it' girls for me, and millions of other guys my age.

I am sure that the ladies out there have their own "coming of age" moments, and you guys could probably add to my list, but it is fun to look back and reminisce about such funny things in our lives, isn't it?

By the way, I have to take a day off tomorrow from this blog due to some personal business, but I will be back on Wednesday full throttle. Speak to you then.

Classic Rant #957: Selling My Soul For a Cell Phone

I am not a fan of cell phones.

More to the point, I am not a fan of the things that happen to people when they get their cell phones.

I have found that people all of a sudden become rude, so tied into their cell phones that it is as if no one else exists.

I hate it when I am having a conversation with someone, they get called, and they have to excuse themselves to take the call.

I also hate it when people are with you, and let's say, you are sitting down to eat, and the cell phone is put right in front of them, as if it were a plate and they were going to eat off of it.

Or they text right in the middle of a conversation with you.

I have a cell phone, only because my wife feels safer with me having it. It is a basic cell phone, a Tracfone, and I don't go on the Internet with it, I don't text with it, I just use it as a phone.

And I rarely use it. I have over 1,000 units left on this thing, because my main use of this device is to charge it up every week or so.

Few know my number, and that is the way I like it.

What this is all getting down to is that this weekend, for Mother's Day and for our upcoming wedding anniversary on June 6 (our 20th), I went out and bought my wife an iPhone.

She has had a cell phone for years, but it didn't have the capability that this one had.

It was old and "antiquated" because it really couldn't perform the functions beyond a phone that cell phones can handle now.

She texted with it, but she couldn't do much else when she used it beyond its functions as a phone.

Since she had been seemingly forever complaining about it, I made up my mind that she was going to get her iPhone, and I kept my promise.

Frankly, I am happy that she is happy with it. She was playing around with it all weekend, and yes, she does consider it to be an adult "toy," something to fiddle around with when the situation presents itself.

Me, I don't need such a phone, although the salesman did ask me if I was also interested.

I replied, "Absolutely not."

My wife is conscientious, but the most conscientious person gets wrapped up with these phones at the most inopportune times ...

... like texting while driving.

I can't tell you how many near accidents I have gotten in because people are not paying attention to the road but are paying more attention to their phones.

And we have all heard about the horrific accidents that do happen when somebody is texting and not paying attention.

I've been lucky to not have been in one of those.

I am confident she won't text while driving, but this fascination as a culture on these phones really is perplexing.

Do you really need your life history in your pocket?

And why are people so fascinated with having this information at the ready like they are?

Personally, I don't get it.

I have used my phone one or two times for an emergency, like when my old car broke down.

But generally, I never use the thing.

Would I ever get an iPhone?

I could tell you never, but never is a long time.

All I can say is that I doubt it. I really do.

I don't need all that information at my fingertips, and I certainly don't want to turn into the type of people that I described earlier.

And yes, my daughter has a cell phone such as this, and my son wants one.

I guess it is like when we were younger, everyone had to have a transistor radio to loll away dead time by listening to music.

But I simply don't need such a device.

To me, a phone is a phone is a phone, and it is nothing else.

But society seemingly has overruled me. I can't win here.

I am not sold on cell phones, but just about everyone else is.

I guess I am in a minority on this one, but so be it.

Rant #2,306: I Heard It Through the Grapevine with Crimson and Clover and I'm Gonna Make You Love Me with a Soulful Strut done by Everyday People

My Allergies are so bad this morning that I can barely see through either one of my eyes.

I knew it the moment I got up today, and the problem has yet to clear up, but I know that it will by the time I drive to work.

I have always had really bad allergies, and I consider it to be a curse that I was laden with, and happily. my kids, at least right now, don't have this malady.

Maybe the whole thing will stop with me.

And yes, thinking back, I had these terrible allergies way back in 1969, 50 years ago.

I became 12 years old in 1969, one of the great years of my generation.

We both landed on the moon and the Mets won the World Series--go figure both events happening on top of each other.

As an American, I was proud that we put our flag on the moon; as a Yankees fan, I hated it that the Mets won anything.

But so be it.

What were we listening to on the radio way back when> What were the hottest singles in the country on this day, 50 years ago?

Well, according to the Billboard Hot 100 for January 25, 1969, the hottest single in the country right now was the epic Tamla Motown tune "I Heard It Through the Grapevine" by Marvin Gaye. The No. 1 song was in its seventh, and final week, in the top spot this week, making it one of the top singles of the entire decade of the 1960s.

In the No. 2 spot was another certifiable classic, Tommy James and the Shondells' "Crimson and Clover," which would take over the No. 1 spot on the chart next week, and stay at the top for two weeks. The song would catapult James to further heights, making him and his band one of the few previous AM-ready bands to fully cross over to being played on the FM dial.

At No. 3 was another Motown classic, "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me" from the combined supergroup of Diana Ross and the Supremes and the Temptations, with the number four song being the instrumental "Soulful Strut" by Young-Holt Unlimited.

Rounding out this week's top five was "Everyday People," the future No. 1 song by Sly and the Family Stone, which would eventually succeed "Crimson and Clover" as the chart's No. 1 song in a few weeks time.

B.J. Thomas' "Hooked On a Feeling" came in at No. 6, with the Doors' "Touch Me" following at No. 7 and the Brooklyn Bridge's "Worst That Could Happen" at No. 8.

This was a truly All-American top 10, a real rarity back then with the next Beatles' hit usually just around the bend, but one of just two non-U.S. acts hit to make the Top 10 this week was the Australian-via-England Bee Gees' "I Started a Joke," which came in at No. 9.

Rounding out the Top 10 was another non-U.S. act, Dusty Springfield, who went to Memphis and churned out the classic "Son-of-a Preacher Man."

The highest debuting single on this week's chart was the soon-to-be controversial "I'm Livin' In Shame" by Diana Ross and the Supremes, which entered the Hot 100 at No. 47. The song, which was banned by some stations because of its content, still managed to reach the No. 10 spot in a few weeks time, and interestingly. some pressings of the song list it as "I'm Living In Shame," not dropping the "g" on "Livin'" for some unknown reason.

The biggest moving single on the chart--the single that moved up the most places from last week to this week--was Tammi Terrell's version of "This Old Heart of Mine," which jumped from No. 97 on last week's chart to No. 67 this week. This old Motown chestnut, however, stalled at that number, one of the numerous solo chart singles that Terrell had during her chart run that paled in comparison with her work with this week's chart topper Marvin Gaye.

So that is what we were listening to 50 years ago, way back when in 1969.

And you can bet that as these songs were coming out of my family's kitchen radio from WABC way back when, I was sitting at the kitchen table, eating my breakfast cereal and probably suffering as much then as I am doing today.

Such is life, I guess.

Speak to you again on Monday. Have a great weekend.

Classic Rant #956 (May 3, 2013): Those Were the Days ... ?

Well, I don't know if they really were THE days, but they are days that I cannot forget.

Just celebrating a birthday during the past week, it has forced me to reflect on my formative years, or the years when I went from being a baby to a young man.

As I have told you many times, I lived in a place called Rochdale Village, in South Jamaica, Queens, New York, a place that was both wondrous and frustrating at the same time.

It was a brand new community, some say an experimental community, a mainly white, middle class community plopped down right in the middle of a long-time, very proud black community.

The experiment was simple--could blacks and whites live together?--and we proved that we could, at least for a few years.

Several things spoiled the whole thing, including changing times, various teacher strikes, and the aftermath of the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, but in those early years of the development, I think we proved that those with the same dreams and goals were color blind.

I lived in this development from 1964-1971, and those later years--1968-1971--were rife with safety issues, crime, drugs, you name it.

And the schools weren't very good, either.

I went from what could be called a very progressive school for its time, P.S. 30--to a school also modeled on progression, but an educational institution that became the hot pot for everything that was wrong with the development at the time, I.S. 72, Benjamin Schlesinger Intermediate School.

This was the newest school in the development, and the school with the most problems.

Every problem that was present in the development was present in this school, seemingly 100-fold. There was little or no discipline, and the teachers were powerless to do much of anything.

It seemed as if outside forces had taken over the school, and declared that this was going to be the battleground that they would fight for and win.

And, they pretty much did, destroying the last vestige of the pride of this development.

I can tell you that being a student in that school was a situation that I wouldn't ever want to relive again.

There was the safety issue, which was impossible at that school.

There were rampant muggings, pin attacks, shirt fights, you name it, we had it, including riots during the school day. Anti-white, and what I later found out, anti-black people living in the development bias was rampant.

I was in the Honors, or SP program, there, and while I did manage to learn things there, it was a zoo, a real zoo, with no laws, no rules, and virtual anarchy every day we went to school there.

For a variety of reasons, including the education situation, any families-both black and white--left the development in the early 1970s, and now,  Rochdale Village is basically a minority community, a very long-standing one, one that I haven't gone back to since about 1976 or so.

But for whatever reason, the community brings back nostalgia to the kids who witnessed, first hand, its rise, kids like myself, who actually saw buildings go up on the grounds.

The place is ready to celebrate its 50th anniversary in late 2013--the first tenants actually moved in right after JFK was assassinated--and there have been many reunions and celebrations of the place over the past decades.

I guess we kids were there at the beginning, and most of us spent our formative years there--I certainly did, ages seven to 14--so it kind of rings nostalgic to us, the good and the bad.

There are numerous Facebook pages put up by the original kids of the development, and there has even been an award-winning book telling the history of Rochdale from the beginning to the present.

A big 50th anniversary reunion is being planned for the development, and Rochdale itself is holding its own festivities.

What am I getting at here?

Well, I have my own Facebook page devoted to the old neighborhood, and the other day, I put up what I hope to be a series of scans of my old I.S. 72 yearbook. I hope to spread this out over the next few weeks.

Well, it elicited lots of comments, both positive and negative, and many sort of in-between.

First off, it is rare that you see a junior high school yearbook put up on the Internet. Yes, high school yearbooks are all over the place, but not junior high school yearbooks, so I have myself something of an exclusive by putting this thing up.

Second, putting up some of the pages of this book--mainly focusing on the teachers and staff of the school--has produced lots of comments, positive and negative, about the teachers and the school.

A lot of the teachers were very good educators, some were in it for the ride, and I am sure this isn't unlike any other school of that time, or this time.

But the creaky black and white pages of this yearbook bring out lots of remembrances about what we were doing way back when and how we feel about it now, with decades of hindsight to use to see what was really going on there.

I hoped that people would wax nostalgic at these page scans, and they have.

There are as many different opinions on that era as there are people looking at these scans, and everybody seemingly has an opinion on a particular teacher or situation.

I also think a lot of people have lost their yearbooks, and they probably haven't seen these pages in years.

Anyway, I applaud all of those who have responded. The give-and-take has been quite nice and informative.

As I said, I hope to put up more pages as the weeks go by, and I am sure they will elicit many more comments, especially when the class pictures go up.

Look, I am sure that you look back on your junior high school or middle school years with some fondness, or even a lot of hate. Those were difficult years for everyone, as you become a young adult. Everyone has funny stories, and unhappy ones too.

Those were MY years in MY development, and for better or worse, I will never, ever forget them.

The yearbook pages just reiterate that those were both the happiest years of my young life and also the most frustrating, both at the same time.

They helped make me what I am today, so I guess my waxing nostalgic had even a greater purpose than I might have thought when those incidents were actually happening.

It has been a fun ride, I have to say ...

Rant #2,305: Bad

I could not even think of a good title for today's Rant, because what I am going to talk about here is probably the most reprehensible story that I have read about in some time, and maybe even ever.

I am sure that you have heard about the comatose woman who has been in a facility since she has been two years of age who was savagely attacked by a worker at that venue, raped, became pregnant, and gave birth to a child.

After looking at DNA evidence, the authorities finally nabbed the suspect, who just happens to be a hospital nurse.

There are just so many questions related to this story that remain unanswered, but whatever the answers are, the whole story is appalling, to say the least.

The woman, of native American ancestry, evidently has been under such care since she was a toddler, having had an accident where evidently she fell into a body of water, was revived, but suffered numerous neurological difficulties.

What her level of well being has been questioned, as she has either been described as not being able to do much of anything, on respirators and feeding tubes, to being able to acknowledge certain things by moving parts of her face, including her eyes.

But whatever state she is in, everyone agrees that the woman was not up to the level to have a sexual encounter, and probably not even up to the level of even knowing what that was.

Giving birth just a few weeks ago, the woman was never looked at as being pregnant by facility medical staff or by her family, which raises lots of questions right then and there.

How could they not know that the woman was pregnant? Sure, some women do not show until perhaps the near end of their pregnancy, but if she was in a medical facility, and was supposed to be seen by doctors and examined, how could they not know that there was something different about her?

Evidently, the last time that she had been fully examined was now around 10 months ago, or before her pregnancy might have occurred, but why was there such a lapse in physical examination?

Maybe that is why two physicians at the facility havr resigned; the medical staff certainly let this woman down with their lack of procedures.

And what about the family? Did they not see changes occurring in this woman that one does not need to have a medical education to see?

Evidently, the woman's main caretaker is her mother, who would visit her on a fairly regular basis.

However, reports are that the mother is not in the best of shape, and among her other ailments, she suffers from some level of dementia or Alzheimer's Disease herself.

Knowing that, why did no other family member take over her care taking duties?

And then we come to the actual incident.

Was the woman actually physically sexually assaulted, or did the woman come in contact with the alleged assailant in another way?

How long was this abuse happening, and did the alleged assailant attack other women at the facility?

And how did he get away with it? Was this some type of inside job, where things were being covered up, including the alleged assailant's dalliances with the woman?

Yes, this is a mystery that beats any Agatha Christie mystery, anything fiction or non-fiction that I could ever remember.

And you just know that there will eventually be a lawsuit that will come out of this, and I just hope that any money that is awarded goes directly for the lifetime upkeep of the woman and her child, and that the child is placed in the right home to grow and prosper.

I mean, the more one thinks about this case, the more it sends shivers up the spine.

How could such a thing happen, and how could the human mind decide to do such a heinous thing?

I don't get it, I simply don't get it ... but you just know that we will be hearing more about this in the coming months and even years.

For one, what do you do with the suspect if he is convicted of his crime? Yes, you jail him, and in my mind, you jail him well beyond any term that a rapist normally gets, maybe incarcerate him for the rest of his born days, without any chance of parole.

And if the state of Arizona cannot do that, then put some type of order of protection on the woman and her child that lasts into eternity, so that these two innocent people never have to deal with this criminal ever again in any way, shape or form.

And I hope the best for that child.

Maybe the child can be the silver lining in this really, really dark cloud, and if nothing else, the child's existence creates someone who can unconditionally love the woman, his birth mother, and watch over her and keep her from harm to the end of her days.

And do a better job of it than the facility or the existing family could ever do.

Classic Rant #955 (May 2, 2013): Plane Simple

Recently, sequestration hit the airline industry, as air traffic controllers were faced with losing their jobs due to belt tightening.

Of course, politicians, faced with extra delays in getting from one place to another, lifted this threat, and people in these jobs don't have to worry about being out of work, and the general public doesn't have to worry about facing incredible delays when they are flying.

That's good, but our legislators should do more to get rid of sequestration and put us on the right path for the future.

They won't, and will only do things when it is convenient for them and meets their own agendas.

We know that all too well.

Throughout recent history, there has always been uneasiness between the public and the airlines, and this ties in with a record I have in my record collection, believe it or not.

"The Great Airplane Strike," by Paul Revere and the Raiders, features one of the most unlikeliest topics for a hit Top 20 song: an airplane strike that grounded flying in the Los Angeles area in 1965.

Based on a true incident, the song, written by band leader Paul Revere, lead singer Mark Lindsay, and producer Terry Melcher (Doris Day's son), talks about the utter confusion about getting from Point A to Point B during an airline strike in 1965.

Sounding like a first cousin to the Rolling Stones' "19th Nervous Breakdown," the song stands on its own, and there are actually two versions of this song that were released in late 1966.

There is the album version, on the band's "Spirit of '67" long player (one of my favorite LPs of that era), which basically is a standard tune from beginning to end.

There is the single version, which goes at a pretty quick pace, and which has one of the oddest endings to a record that I have ever heard, as if your pipes are in the process of backing up. That is the only way I can describe it.

The song hit #20 in October 1966, one of a handful of successful singles to come from that album.

The Raiders were looked at as nothing more than a bubblegum band, but let me tell you, they put out some of the finest pop/rock records in the 1960s and early 1970s.

I mean, there is really nothing more to say about the song, but it is clever, catchy, and one of those hits from that era that you will never hear on the radio, even oldies radio.

I have no idea why, and over the years, I think it sounds better to my ear than it did to my ear as a kid.

The flip side to the single, "In My Community," is pretty much a standard rocker, and also pretty good, making for a really solid all-around 45.

Listen for yourself (although what I put up here has a clipped ending), and let me know what you think, and by the way, here are the lyrics, which tell a pretty interesting story.

I was down in L.A. town
When our manager said "jump"
I threw my clothes and my saxophone
In a two by four-bit trunk
I pushed it to the airport
And I ran to the ticket line
Man said "Son, you could have saved the run
Those airplanes just quit flyin'"

If I can't leave here
I just might stay
And that L.A. flyway
Is goin' to be my home

I ran through the terminal building
To fly by my airline
The man said I could ride the wing
And I said that was fine
He said I'll confirm your reservation
And put the plane on hold
He come back and said "Sorry
But that wing space just been sold"

If I can't leave here
I just might stay
And that L.A. flyway
Is goin' to be my home

I walked into the washroom
And I built myself a fire
Threw on lots of paper
And the flames kept gettin' higher
The janitor come runnin' in
So scared his face was white
So, I explained my situation
He said "That's all right"

If I can't leave here
I just might stay
And that L.A. flyway
Is goin' to be my home

Next day I thought that I would leave
So I packed my things again
I waited fourteen hours
For a taxi to come in
I spotted one that wasn't full
And I threw myself in fast
The driver said "I'm sorry
But this taxi's out of gas"

If I can't leave here
I just might stay
And that L.A. flyway
Is goin' to be my home

Rant #2,304: Yankee Doodle Dandy

For those who do not like my sports Rants, well, now is the time to turn away and come back tomorrow, because this is going to be one of those Rants that you do not like.

Yesterday, four of the greatest players of their generation were elected to baseball's Hall of Fame, and for once, the HoF did it right.

And they did it so right, that two New York Yankees were elected yesterday ... or should I say, 1.5 Yankees. I will explain that later.

As it was, the Yankees' Mariano Rivera and Mike Mussina, the Mariners Edgar Martinez, and the Toronto Blue Jays' Roy Halladay gained entrance into the vaulted HoF, probably the most celebrated--and criticized--HoF of them all.

Martinez was simply the greatest designated hitter of his generation, the first who made it something of an art form and a viable spot in the lineup. He was the best of all time save David Ortiz, who will go in when his time comes. And he was a nemesis of Rivera, the one hitter the pitcher said he feared.

Halladay actually could go in as a Blue Jay or a Philadelphia Phillie, as he won Cy Young Awards for both teams during his storied career, a player who had to remake himself, going down to the lowest rung of MLB-affiliated baseball, the A minor league, to get to where he got to.

And that leaves Rivera and Mussina.

Mussina spent his entire 18-year career pitching in the toughest division in baseball, the American League East. He spent 10 years with the Baltimore Orioles (hence the "1.5 Yankees" designation up above), and he was a winner from the get go. He actually won 20 games in his final season, the only season he ever reached that mark.

He was a cerebral athlete before that term became popular. And with analytics, what he did during his career came more clearly into focus, as one of the best starting pitchers in the game, and certainly one of the best of the past 25 years or so.

And he said during an interview on the YES Network yesterday that he had no idea how he should go into the HoF, as a Yankee or as an Oriole. The HoF will be the body which will choose how he goes in, and I believe that to the chagrin of Yankees fans, he will go in as an Oriole. The Yankees have plenty of players in the HoF, and one of the greatest is going in this year ...

Rivera is in a class by himself. People forget that the all-time leader in saves--652 of them during his 19 year career, all spent with the Yankees--began his career as a starter. He had the beginnings of lights-out stuff, but was not going to make it starting games. Out of necessity, he morphed into a reliever and finally a closer, and there was none better, either during the regular season or during the playoffs and World Series.

He was a member of the Yankees' fabled "Core Four," and along with Andy Pettitte, Jorge Posada, and Derek Jeter, he defined the Bronx Bombers during that period where they won five World Series, and came close several other times.

One can say that if not for Rivera, they would never have won those five championships, and one would probably be correct in that assumption.

What's more, his demeanor, his personality, his personal beliefs, and this tenacity made him the perfect relief pitcher, icy cold on the mound but burning within.

And who could leave him off their ballot and fess up to it? No one, and with his election to the HoF, he became the first player to be named on 100 percent of the ballots turned in by sportswriters around the country.

If that isn't a testament to what type of player he was, I don't know what is.

There was a rumor that one writer left him off his ballot because he didn't believe closers deserved such an honor--they generally pitch just one inning of a game, unlike relievers of old, who often pitched three or more innings to close out games--but evidently, that writer had a change of heart, and Rivera was named on every ballot submitted to the HoF.

The four players named skirted the dreaded PED era in baseball, where just about every player was labeled as a drug user, using performance enhancing drugs to elevate their game, but of the four, three were completely above reproach: Martinez, Mussina and Rivera.

Halladay is a different story altogether. His story is an interesting one. A promising pitcher early on, he injured himself to the point that he went down to the low minor leagues to learn how to pitch again, and remade himself as one of the best starting pitchers of his generation.

But his life after baseball was suspect. He died in a plane crash a few years ago, died while piloting his own plane, and drugs were found in his system.

Whether he used them during his playing career is questionable, but he was never cited to doing so, so he probably might have gravitated toward them--morphine, amphetamines, other drugs of which such a combination was known as a "speedball"--to combat tiredness while piloting the plane, and for no other reason.

Nobody will ever know, but during his playing career, he was evidently clean, so that certainly did not come into play in his being voted into the HoF.

So the Class of 2019 has been named, and it sure will be a fun HoF ceremony this summer in Cooperstown, New York, in particular when Rivera takes the podium.

The Panamanian, who did not know a word of English when he came to the U.S. to begin his baseball career, came from the humblest of beginnings, a poor fishing village where he had to fashion a mitt out of a milk carton.

But he has since become a terrific public speaker, married and raised his children in Westchester, helped his wife set up a church there, and truly, he is the American Dream all rolled up into one individual.

He literally took the ball, ran with it, and never looked back.

You just know his speech will be incredible.

I can't wait for the inductions. It will be one to record for the ages, and once that ceremony is over, we move onto the class of 2020 ...

Derek Jeter, I presume ... .

Classic Rant #954 (May 1, 2013): The First, and the First Forgotten

As I said as an aside to my Rant yesterday, Jason Collins is getting all the recognition as the first currently active male athlete from any of the four major professional team sports in the U.S. to come out of the closet as being gay, but he was not the first such athlete to do so.

How soon we all forget, including myself.

The 1970s were a different time in our history.

Gays were still in the closet, afraid to come out for fear of losing their livelihoods and afraid that society would look at them in a different way.

In the mid-1970s, Glenn Burke was a highly prized draft prospect for the Los Angeles Dodgers. He was a multi-sport star in several sports in high school, and when he was drafted, he was listed as a "can't miss" prospect who had tools that were compared to those of a young Willie Mays.

After a short minor league career, he came up to the Dodgers in 1976, and he reportedly told the team and the team's adminstrators that he was gay.

Although he did not proclaim this to the world, his teammates and team officials knew about his sexuality from the get-go.

This led to a tumultuous, and very short career for Burke.

For whatever reason, he never lived up to his potential on the field, but off the field, even with his sexuality out in the open to his teammates and team officials, Burke was chastised.

There was supposedly an incident between him and Al Campanis, the Dodgers' GM who later was fired for making disparaging remarks about black ballplayers on national television.

According to Burke in his autobiography "Out At Home," Campanis offered him a lavish honeymoon if he would get married to a woman. Of course, he refused, and of course, this story is open to conjecture.

He bounced around in the major leagues, played for the Oakland Athletics, and called it a career in 1979.

Homosexuality started to come out in the open in the 1980s, and he was actually outed by Inside Sports magazine in the 1980s. With this now being public knowledge, there was no need to hide this anymore, and he played in the Gay Games, a gay-themed Olympics.

After a car accident, he was never the same person. He got into drugs, and his lifestyle caught up with him when he contracted AIDS.

I remember that one of the first stories I ever read on the Internet was about Burke and his struggles after his baseball career. If I remember correctly, his autobiography had come out, and he was clearly dying of this disease, a bitter man who was nearing the end of his life.

Maybe in anger, he claimed that he knew other baseball players who were gay, but never revealed who they were.

And for whatever reason, in later years he took credit for creating the "high five" in baseball, and supposedly, the high five is a show of solidarity in the gay community, probably without most people, including athletes, realizing that.

He ended up passing away in 1995, and probably the story would have ended there.

However, actress Jamie Lee Curtis has had an option on his life story for years, wanting to make it into a motion picture. I read yesterday that she believes that now, with the Jason Collins story out in the open, the time may be right for this film to finally move ahead.

Shame on me--and shame on mass media--for forgetting the Glenn Burke story amid all the hoopla about gay athletes.

His story is an interesting one, maybe even more interesting than the Jason Collins story, and to forget it is to create a crevice between how our society was in the 1970s to our more tolerant society that we have today.

It is a story that should not be forgotten so easily.

Rant #2,303: I Just Want To Celebrate

Were you around in 1956?

I wasn't, but if you were alive 63 years ago, our President was Dwight D. Eisenhower, and things were much different then than they are today.

Just look at the prices of things back then.

According to the website Little Things (https://www.littlethings.com/how-much-cost-1956) you could actually buy a house for as low as $11,700, and the pricier homes cost about $22,000.

And if you were a renter, you paid in the $80-$90 a month for your abode.

A new car cost $1,700 or so, and if you wanted to get a better model, all you had to do was to fork over $3,100 and you had your dream vehicle.

And to fill that car, you needed gas, and fuel was about 22 cents a gallon, which means you could fill up your tank for less than $3.

You had to eat, and very basic food--bread and eggs--cost 18 cents a loaf, and 45 cents a dozen.

Coffee cost 69 cents per pound, and milk cost 97 cents a gallon.

Of course, wages were much less than they are today, and you could probably exist bringing home less than $100 a week if you budgeted your money the right way.

And TV was a relatively new medium, and it was finally taking over from radio as the top entertainment medium in our homes.

I have painted this picture of 1956 to highlight the fact that today, my parents celebrate their 63rd wedding anniversary.

My father was a kosher butcher back then, working with my grandfather in their store on Delancey Street in Manhattan.

The world was so different back then, maybe much simpler than it is now, but there were still plenty of challenges.

And somehow, through it all, my father met my mother, who was a secretary and lived in Brooklyn, they got together, and well, the rest is history.

I came more than a year later, and then their world was turned completely upside down, but let's focus on my parents right now.

I think my mother said that the first piece of real furniture they had was a brand new black and white Dumont TV. It was one of those televisions from that era that was made like a piece of real furniture, and it probably cost them a pretty penny to buy.

That TV was used by our family until we moved to Long Island in 1971, so it was a great purchase, paying for itself over and over--even as the tubes had to be changed seemingly every couple of months.

My father came from an Orthodox Jewish home, my mom from a much more liberal Jewish upbringing, and somehow, the two of them meshed.

I guess opposites do attract, and I almost wish that I was a fly on the wall the first time my father ever had Chinese food, which was not kosher and which was considered to be exotic at the time, the food that observant Jews would eat to jump over that barrier between total commitment to their religion and total abandonment of those values.

I wish I could have seen my father's face as my mother led him to a non-kosher life ... not total abandonment, but just a little sneak here and there.

Anyway, my parents married 63 years ago today, had their honeymoon at the Concord Hotel in the Catskill Mountains--known back then as "The Jewish Alps"--and started their household.

And as I said before, several months later, in April 1957, I came into the world, and their lives were thrown into chaos from then to now.

But I guess it was a delightful chaos, because they did it again in December 1959, when my sister came into this world.

But through it all--and through the remainder of the 1950s, into the 1960s, the 1970s, the 1980s, the 1990s, the 2000s, and now, in 2019 and certainly beyond--my parents' marriage has stood the test of time, through highs and lows and everything in between.

It is certainly something to aspire to, but as the Beatles once sang, "All You Need Is Love," and they were so right--and my parents exemplify that belief.

So, happy 63rd anniversary to the loving couple, and let them have at least 63 more anniversaries to cherish ...

... and don't put it past them. If any couple can defy logic and live long enough to outlast us all, it is these two lovebirds.

Classic Rant #953 (April 30, 2013): Coming Out Day

A few weeks ago, I made some comments on a cover of Sports Illustrated featuring voluptuous model Kate Upton.

That cover was her "busting out" day, for sure.

Today I am going to make some comments about another Sports Illustrated cover, this one featuring an athlete's "coming out" day.

Jason Collins, a journeyman player in the NBA who last played with the Washington Wizards and is currently a free agent, came out yesterday, telling the world that he is gay.

He is the first current player in one of the four major team sports to come out as being gay--major male team sports specifically, as I believe a few players in the all-female WNBA have come out--and some are looking at him as a pioneer of sorts.

He got congratulatory messages for his coming out from everybody from Presidents Obama and Clinton to the First Lady, to Kobe Bryant and many other sports and show business celebrities.

Why did he come out now?

The 12-year veteran and Sports Illustrated fully knew what they were doing by having him do this now, which makes it a calculating maneuver on both of their parts.

The NBA is at the height of its yearly frenzy now.

The playoffs are on, and the sports world is tuned in to the exploits of teams like the Miami Heat, the New York Knicks, the Boston Celtics, and all the teams that are in the mix to win the league championship.

The Washington Wizards are not in that mix, having a pretty woeful season, preparing for the draft lottery.

So he, and Sports Illustrated, got the biggest bang for their buck, and that is something that has to be taken into account here.

Would Collins have come out right now if the Wizards were in the playoffs?

Very, very doubtful. It would have thrown the playoffs, and his team's chances, into a sideshow next to his admission.

But Collins did what he did now, with the Wizards out of it and his own NBA future in doubt.

Collins is a journeyman player, has never been much of an impact player, but has had a nice career. He has nothing to be ashamed of.

As a player, he is one of the few groups of players who has been in the NBA with his twin. Jason and Jarron--Jarron is the same type of player as his brother, also having a good, but unspectacular career--join the Van Arsdale twins and the current Lopez twins in this select group.

Anyway, what about his admission?

Look, there is no doubt in my mind that he is not the only professional athlete who is gay. Heck, there are probably dozens of others.

But he is the first current, active athlete to admit as such, so he is taking a major chance here.

He is a fringe player, and I am sure he will be fighting for a job next season with some team.

He has gone through a dozen years of not bringing this up. I am sure there were some players who knew about this already, and it really didn't matter to them.

Nor should it really matter to anyone else.

If he is on the team that I root for, and he has the ball at the last seconds of a game, and if he is lucky enough to hit the winning shot, well, he is a hero, a hero not only to me, but to all the fans of my team.

If he misses, well, he is a bum just like anybody else. Better luck next time.

And that is the way it should be. That is the way sports is, and I am sure that Collins would agree with that 100 percent.

And I have to tell you, I don't like the comparisons at all to Jackie Robinson.

Robinson went in as the first black player in the major leagues.

He couldn't hide being black, he couldn't cover it up.

He wore it on his face, and on his sleeve, so to speak.

Collins has been in the league a dozen years, and he was able to hide his sexuality.

Sure, I bet he is now going to be subject to taunts from fellow players and from fans, but please, do not ever equate what he did to what Robinson did, as so many people are stating right now.

Robinson was a true pioneer, for not only blacks, but anyone of any color, creed or background. What he did during a time in our history where tolerance was not within most of our society will live for the ages.

Today, we are in a more tolerant period than 70 years ago. People look past a person's color and sexuality, to a great extent. We have a black president, and many states have given the green light to gay marriage.

I am not saying that Collins will get a full pass here. He will hear it, you know that.

But to come out like this, when he may be at the end of his career anyway, well please, don't compare him to Jackie Robinson, who had to endure this throughout his career with the Brooklyn Dodgers.

Collins did a brave thing, but let's put it in context.

Collins is not Robinson, he is not Hank Greenberg, and he is not any of the group of players who were the first black players in the NBA.

His coming out may have actually ended his career, and I think he is smart enough to know that.

But give him kudos for doing what he did, and let's move on.

(Just as an add-on to this, and I must admit, I totally forgot about this until hours after I wrote this Rant, but Jason Collins is not the first professional male team player to come out as being gay. Years ago, baseball player Glenn Burke, who played briefly for the Dodgers and Angels in the late 1970s, came out, but only to teammates, never publicly. His story only became known to the outside world when he proclaimed his sexuality just prior to dying of AIDS in 1995 and through his autobiography.

I am sorry I totally forgot about this when I wrote this up, but here it is, and if you want more information, go to your favorite search engine and put his name in. You will find that his story was even more interesting than the one that Collins has told us.)

Rant #2,302: Pride (In the Name of Love)

Today is Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and much of our country has the day off from work on this Monday.

I don't, never have, and probably never will.

I have to go to work today, hence, I had to wake up at my usual 3:30 a.m. to prepare for my day, just like I pretty much always do during weekdays.

Today is supposed to be a day of giving back, of serving your community as Dr. King would have liked us to do, so I guess that he would be happy with me because I am serving my community by working and bringing in a paycheck.

Even when I was teaching, way back in the early 1980s, no district I worked in at the time recognized the holiday, so I always worked today, and so it is just another day on the calendar for me.

Something tells me that on this day of service, most people don't do much else but sleep later, so their day of service is for themselves ... what would Dr. King think about that?

Personally, with all this hubbub about doing something to benefit your community today, I think he would be OK with most of us just sleeping the day off.

Everyone has to recharge their batteries, and I suspect that although it appeared that he worked 24/7/365 to battle injustice, there were days where he just had to take it one step back and take it easy, so although some might think that is showing laziness, and not resolve, I don't think he would be too upset if you just spent the day around the house doing next to nothing.

I wish that I could do that too, but it is not meant to be.

It just so happens that my wife is off today, not because it is a holiday, but because she has to work this coming Saturday, so she was given today as a day off.

The bank she works at happens to be open; why should commerce stop? And you just know that there will be plenty of people there, counting their money and doing other transactions.

I guess today is their day of service to make sure that their money is secure and gaining interest in the accounts where that is supposed to happen.

Believe me, I am not trying to make fun of the day, of Dr. King's work or life or legacy by saying what I am saying.

I guess I am a bit envious of those of us who do have off today, because I know that at work, today is going to be a very sloooooooooow day.

I deal with the government, and yes, most of the government will be closed today, so the people I deal with are at home while I am at work.

Believe me, I will be counting the minutes and seconds for the day to end.

But this so-called day of service ... the media hypes that up for what perhaps it should be and is for some, but for most of us, we will do our service in our beds.

Dr. King was a great man who did great things during his short life, and he was gunned down at perhaps the height of his influence.

I remember that day like it was yesterday, and honestly, I do not have very fond memories of the day.

In fact, if Dr. King had lived, I seem to remember that my old neighborhood was on his schedule of places to visit, and perhaps as a schoolkid in 1968, all of 11 years old, I would have had a chance to meet him ...

And we would have talked baseball.

Just the other day, a childhood memory came back to me when I saw on the Internet what I don't think is one of his most famous photos. It was a photo that I had not seen in decades, and I think there are actually variations of this photo. Here is one of them.

It is King playing baseball with his son, I presume his oldest son, Martin Luther King III, seemingly in the backyard of their home.

How many fathers did the same thing with their sons? Mine did, and I did it with my son too.

It is just such a basic thing to do, and when I saw that photo again, it just brought back so many memories of days gone by.

Most of the famous photos of King are him standing at a podium and making his famous speeches.

But in this photo, he was simply being "dad."

It is my favorite photo of him, and if we take anything out of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day today, is that he was much like our fathers were, a family man who put his family first, and then went about his job of dong what he did.

My father did exactly the same thing. It might have been from a taxi cab, but his values were much the same as Dr. King's were.

Let's celebrate that side of Dr. King today on his special day.