Rant #4,016: Live

Today, on the 25th anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy, I am going to rerun Rant #2,490, which ran on September 11, 2020, because it is still fresh, and it is one of the most important Rants I ever wrote.

Things are not what they once were pre-September 11, 2001, and they certainly are quite different than they are today.

Some look at this day as ancient history, as if we were talking about the Civil War or other conflicts in our nation's past.

Some scoff at it by voting into public office people who should be shunned for their beliefs and actions toward our country.

Some are just plain ignorant, and quite frankly, stupid, about this day and what it means to this country, and the world.

I am not the "some people" that I am talking about.

This day changed everything for us as a society and as a country, and it didn't change things for the better.

I have my own story to tell about that day, a day I spent at work telling military people from all over the country and the world what was happening, what we knew, what we didn't know, and trying to help them find out the whereabouts of loved ones.

I have told that story before, but not today.

Please read what I had to say seven years ago about this day and what it means.

There really is nothing more to say.

"Today is Patriots Day, where we honor those who perished, and those who were the first responders to the aftermath of the September 11, 2001, terrorists attacks.

So many of us seem to have forgotten that day--or at least put it out of our minds--and some of our young people--many of whom weren't even born when the tragedies occurred--look at it as ancient history.

But that horrid day weaves in and out of our current environment, our current problems, and yes, our current solutions, too.

And yes, my father had a story to tell about that day, a story that proved that there is a God in heaven, who was acting in his behalf when what happened happened.

As he told the story, he was at work that day, a day that started out like any other.

He woke up a 4 a.m. or thereabouts, got dressed, and did what he had to do to get ready for just another workday.

He was still young and strong that day--he would turn 70 on November 30 of that year, so he was doing exactly what he had been doing for all the years and years prior to this day.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

He took his cab, drove it into Manhattan, and started his workday, picking up passengers here and there for some relatively short jaunts around the city.

At sometime before or around 8:15 a.m., or so a fare took him to the World Trade Center, where he dropped off the passenger and immediately picked up another one, who wanted to go to a destination in Harlem.

That fare saved his life.

He drove that passenger to his destination, and at approximately 8:46 a.m. or so, he could see through the car windows that the World Trade Center was being hit by aircraft, and also through those windows, he could see that life would change forever in our country.

My father tried to get home, but it was a nearly impossible task that day.

Manhattan had pretty much gone on lockdown, and there was nowhere to go but to go into New Jersey and try to do an end around back to New York and to Long Island.

Cellphones were still in their infancy back then, and my father did not have one to call my mother about his whereabouts ... and even if he had one, as many who tried to do the same thing soon found out, cellphone service was extremely limited or non-existent throughout that day due to the rubble and carnage that ensued.

So throughout the day, my father simply tried to get back home, but we had no idea where he was, or even if he was safe.

He maneuvered the cab through New Jersey, and sometime around 8 p.m., he finally arrived home, so it took him approximately 11 hours or so for him to get back to Long Island and back home.

It must have been a harrowing day for him, as it was for all of us. But to be so far away from home, and finding his way back in increments, must have been incredible.

And that fare to Harlem ... that gentleman was my father's guardian angel for sure.

As we look back at that day, and I, personally, look back at my father's life, that was a signature day for both him and humanity.

We discovered that, if we didn't already know this yet, that human beings can be the most vicious and violent creatures on earth to justify whatever path they choose to take.

But human beings can also be accommodating, they can also be peaceful, and they can also go about their jobs with the utmost of respect and reserve and resolve to do the best job they can do.

We saw all of that on what we now call 9-11, or 9/11, whatever you prefer.

And on this day, we look back on the good, the bad and the ugly, and I do mean the very good, the very bad, and the very ugly.

We must never forget what happened that day, and work to never let it happen again.

I know that my father was only a minuscule piece of the puzzle that happened that day, but his drive and determination to find a way to get home was demonstrated by not only him, but millions of others on that dreadful day.

It once again proved that family comes first, whether it is your own personal brood or the family of humanity.

Family comes first, everything else comes in afterward.

So as we look back at the anniversary of that tragic day, let's remember that though all of our differences, through all of our highs and lows and in-betweens, we are all part of a single family, the family of humanity and human kind, and that we can get through everything if we do it together as one.

Have a great weekend, and I will speak to you again on Monday."

And Happy Rosh Hashanah--which begins at sunset this evening--to my Jewish family and friends.

Rant #4,015: Wonderful World

Don't get me started ... 

Don't get me started on Lindsay Clancy, Luigi Mangione, and the like.

They are all guilty as charged ...

But in this toxic environment we live in, the perpetrators are being painted as the victims, while those innocent people who they cast their scorn on are considered villains ...

Or at the very least, collateral damage.

Mangione has already pleaded guilty, and quite frankly, he deserves the death penalty for what he did to that health insurance executive.

He planned the whole thing out, shot the guy in the back, and yet ...

Mangione has so many adoring women at his beck and call that you would think that he was this generation's Paul, John, George and Ringo ...

Or at least Davy Jones and David Cassidy.

Clancy's case is just so insipid that it demonstrates what a sick world we live in.

She is as guilty as can be for killing her three kids in a fit of rage, which was underlined by her realizing this and trying to take her own life.

God saw to it that not only would she suffer for this attempt--she is paralyzed from it--but that she would be alive, and seemingly coherent, when standing trial for the severity of what she did.

But her defense claims some type of post-partum depression was the reason that she killed her kids, and thus, she was not fully culpable for her actions.

This is the worst type of baloney, even worse than Hebrew National cold cuts which have spoiled.

She can get the most severe charge--first degree murder--or the lesser charge--manslaughter--or be ruled not culpable for her actions due to reasons related to her depression.

Evidently, it has come out that one juror--one single male juror--did not go along with the other jurors' views that she was not culpable for her actions due to her mental condition, so there was a mistrial because the jury could not come to a full, in unison, verdict.

And then Clancy's lawyers asked President Trump for a pardon!

You cannot make this stuff up.

Let me tell you, Clancy is guilty of the most severe charge, and I am going to tell you why.

She had three children ... three kids ...

So you are telling me that this post-partum thing was a buildup from having three young children to care for?

I want to tell you something that I only found out about a few years back.

When my mother gave birth to me, she experienced what we now know is some level of post-partum depression.

She gave birth to me, and she really did not know how to take care of me.

She never harmed me, never did anything untoward to me.

Doctors didn't know that this type of malady exists, so I guess the doctors simply thought that she was a new mother, and that she would figure it out on her own.

My mother knew something wasn't right, and she did the right thing--

She called in my grandmother, her mother, who helped my mother through this thing, until my mother could stand on her own two feet and take care of me.

My mother did the right thing; Clancy obviously did not.

And all of the family members that attended this trial to support Clancy--

Where were they when she was going through all of this?

And again, this is not one kid, it was three kids.

Yes, Clancy is guilty of the top offense, and she should get the death penalty like Mangione, but neither will.

And again, Clancy has hordes of admirers, who look at her as a hero ...

And most of these, like with Mangione, are middle-aged women.

I always thought that women were the stronger and brighter of the two sexes, but I am beginning to have my doubts.

Many women born from the 1980s on are not the same women who were born earlier.

They are petulant, delusional, and I do think the reliance on the Internet has a lot to do with it.

And many of the men are no better.

So they can support Clancy, and Mangione all they like, but their blue hair and nose rings don't hide the fact that they are among the dumbest human beings on the face of the planet.

Making those that perpetrate these horrid crimes into heroes is just so abominable.

I don't know what these women get out of this, and a few commentators have postulated what these women need to get their feet planted on the ground again, so I won't get into that here.

And when we talk about Clancy and Mangione, and how cults have sprung up around them, don't get me started on another instance of perpetrators of horrid crimes being made into the victims--

Just look at what is happening in the Middle East, where Israel--and the U.S.--has become the villain and terrorists like Hamas/Palestinians and Hezbollah are looked upon as the victims, even though their crimes are horrid.

We live in such a strange world now, and level heads must prevail.

And that goes for the 25th anniversary of 9/11, which I will talk about in tomorrow's Rant.

Yes, the world has lost its collective mind.

Rant #4,014: Wrong

As I spoke about in yesterday's Rant, I called the cemetery office about my mother's plot not being taken care of, and the woman I spoke to said this to me:

"A mistake may have been made," relating to my mom's gravesite being totally devoid of care and full of weeds.

She said that the greenery which had been earmarked for my mother's grave might have been, instead, placed on someone else's nearby grave by mistake.

She said they would send a caretaker out to see the state of the site.

Again, this is not the world I was born into.

This is a world of complete ineptitude, one where this type of behavior seems to be accepted.

And when my sister called the cemetery, she received a com0letely different story.

Again, this is partly my family's fault, as we hadn't visited the grave to pay our respects in some time.

Again, I can make the excuse that we have been busy with so many other things, which we have, but that is not a good excuse.

We dropped the ball as much as the cemetery dropped the ball.

The only thing that is different is that the cemetery told us two different stories, neither which made much sense.

Now, we have been told that the site will be cleaned up, and bushes put where the weeds are.

So I have to say, I learned another life lesson, and I learned it the hard way:

You can't trust anyone or anything--not even a cemetery--to do the right thing.

In this bizarro world that we live in today, you have to be on top of everything, or nothing will get done.

Even to keep a gravesite in presentable fashion.

I don't even know how I feel right now.

Sure, I am upset with myself for not visiting the site and not making sure that our original wishes for greenery there were carried out.

But I am also upset with the cemetery, which should have done whatever they could to to make sure that my mother's gravesite was not a site of weeds.

So there is fault on both sides, making me kind of dizzy from the whole thing ...

Maybe even a bit numb about this episode.

Again, my father's site is fine, with nice greenery standing proudly right in front of his gravestone.

My mother's site ...

The gravestone stands out proudly, looks brand new--

But the actual grave site is nothing but a gaggle of weeds.

That is not what we intended it to look like, and whatever mistake that was made must be rectified ASAP.

The Jewish High Holy Days, beginning with Rosh Hashanah and ending with Yom Kippur, begin later this week, ironically on September 11, the evening of the 25th anniversary of one of the worst days in our nation's history.

I am not likening what happened that day to what happened to my mother's gravesite, but it all seems to be rolled into one, in sort of a strange way.

I believe that my mother deserves way better than this, and yes, I do blame myself for not going to the grave and seeing what was there, and not there, sooner.

My fault. My fault entirely.

I hope my mother, in heaven, forgives me for this obvious oversight--

And I hope that in the coming days, her gravesite will be something that looks presentable, is full of greenery, and something that she deserves for a long life well spent caring for her children and grandchildren.

She simply does not deserve this, and no matter whose fault it is--individually and/or collectively--my mother deserves much, much better.

Period.

Rant #4,013: Don't You Care

Labor Day was a "labor," what can I tell you.

Things are supposed to slow down that day, but for me, they revved up.

I decided to visit the cemetery where my parents are buried.

I, personally, had not been there in quite a while, but I decided to go on Labor Day because my father died on Labor Day, the same exact September 7 in 2020, when he passed, that Labor Day was on this year.

So I figured that I would visit both of their graves--they are not buried together, as this is an Orthodox Jewish cemetery, and men and women are buried separately--one, and then the other, just a few steps away from each other.

Admittedly, although I had a map of the place, it was still difficult for me to find the graves, but through trial and error, I finally found them, to my relief.

I found my father's grave first, and I have to tell you, it looked pretty spiffy.

It was taken care of with perpetual care, and everything was neat and tidy.

I said what I had to say, put a rock on top of the gravestone to signify that I had visited, and moved on to my mom's grave.

During her burial service, I am about 99.9 percent sure that we asked the cemetery for perpetual care for her site, but since we never received a bill from them for this service, I had a sneaking suspicion that our wishes were never applied--

And to my dismay, they weren't.

The site was full of weeds, and while the stone was immaculate--she passed away on Sept. 5, 2023, so it is only a few years back--the plot where it sits was awful.

I said what I had to say, put a stone on top of the gravestone to signify that I was there, and I left, to go to the cemetery office--

Which I found out was closed, at least when I was there, as again, it was Labor Day, a national holiday.

So I vowed to call them today--which I will do when the office opens at 9 a.m.--and get this thing figured out.

Look, when we buried my mother, the day was obviously an emotional one, and the unveiling of the stone some time later was also very emotional.

Perhaps things didn't get done that should have been done, but I am pretty sure that we did ask for perpetual care for my mom's site.

I believe my mother, when she still was cognizant before her mind went, might have paid for "forever" perpetual care for my father's grave, as we have never received a bill for that either, and his site looked very well kept.

But for my mother ...

I even remember talking to my brother in law about this, and we said we would alternate the payments, he paying one bill, me paying the next bill, and on and on into perpetuity.

But we never received a bill, so we were each at fault for not following up on this until now.

I could make every excuse in the world, but I won't--

We dropped the ball on this, and the results were disturbing.

There is no moral to this story ...

Just that when a loved one like a parent passes, the survivors have to keep up on things like this, and quite frankly, we simply didn't.

But at least now, we will start to take care of it, giving my mother the proper burial site that she deserves.

As the song goes, "Sorry seems to be the hardest word," but all I can say to my mom and dad after visiting them yesterday is--

"SORRY."

Rant #4,012: Reflections

Labor Day is coming up on Monday, and as I explained yesterday, I have a lot of mixed feelings about the holiday--

Nothing to do with the holiday itself, but with the fact that my father died on the holiday a few years back--yes, on September 7, 2020--and my mother passed away a few years later around the same time. 

Much less in my mind in 2026 is that for many years when I was working full-time, I worked on Labor Day, and honestly, it was just so unnecessary.

Those feelings have dissipated over time, as I am almost at the seven-year mark for when I lost my job on October 10 when the company I worked for went out of business right before the pandemic.

Things have been very difficult for myself and my family since then, and it isn't getting better anytime soon, but that really has nothing to do with Labor Day.

Compound all of this with the Jewish High Holy Days, which are right around the bend.

Ironically, Rosh Hashanah begins at sundown on September 11, and this year, that day takes on added significance, as it is the 25th anniversary of the 9-11 terrorist attacks.

So, at least for me, this is a pretty somber period, and again, it has absolutely nothing to do with Labor Day per se.

Labor Day honors the American labor movement and is a federal holiday in the United States.

It is really a joyous occasion, and since it is a federal holiday, most people, ironically, have the day off from their normal work labors.

People go to ballgames, have fireworks, there are barbecues and family get togethers.

And Labor Day is also the unofficial end of summer, although it actually ends about two weeks later.

For me, I will hand in some work that day, although the federal government--and the association I work for--will be closed to honor the holiday.

I will probably write up and edit some work for them, so I have it handy when everything gets back to normal the next day.

There won't be any family gatherings or anything like that, at least with my family.

Both my son and wife have to work that day, so if I have a barbecue, it will be mainly for myself, although I could heat up some things for them as they arrive home from work.

But otherwise, it will be just another day for me, really nothing more or less than that.

However, I am going to take the day off from writing here at the Blog, so it feels like the holiday it really is.

But more importantly, it will give me time to think about my parents, and think about my future good health.

I will rev it up again on Tuesday.

So enjoy yourself on the holiday, have a great weekend, and I will speak to you again on Tuesday.

Rant #4,011: All Those Years Ago

As you are reading this, I am getting my latest medical test done--

And I hope that it puts me in the clear, at least in that part of my body.

I really and truly wish that I didn't have to go through all of this stuff, but that is not my reality at this point in my life.

How about in the past?

Let's do something I haven't done in quite a while, which is to look back at what I wrote about on this date years ago.

I certainly could not possibly foresee the sorry state that I am in now, but it might give some insight into what I was into some years down the line.

And with so many significant dates coming up--Labor Day, the Jewish High Holidays and the anniversary of the passing of both of my parents--it might be nice to look back on what was on my mind on September 3 during the past several years.

Let's go--

Phil Spector's Pleasant Valley Jail Day (Rant #80, September 3, 2009): Phil Spector, the prolific music producer and music legend, had fallen on very hard times at this point, incarcerated in jail for murder. The guy simply had lost it, but the crux of this entry was the name of the facility that he was living out his life in: Pleasant Valley State Prison in Coalinga, California. And since the name reminded me of the Monkees' hit "Pleasant Valley Sunday," I took that and ran with it, with new lyrics to that song related to where Spector's digs were. Heck, you have to have fun with such things, because they are so absurd.

Country Rock Legend Passes Away (Rant #1,505, September 3, 2015): I bemoaned the loss of someone who was not in the same pantheon as Dolly Parton, but still had his little iota of importance in the world of country music: Boomer Castlemen first came to some notoriety as a member of the Lewis and Clarke Expedition, an act which shared the same Colgems label as the Monkees did, and featured Michael Martin Murphy as a band member. They had a few charted singles, never hit it that big as sort of a country/rock version of the Monkees, and Castleman's fame was that he was the inventor of the "palm pedal," a device allowing guitar players to execute pedal-style string bends, which became integral to the sound of country music.

Work Work Work Work (Idle Hands Are the Devil's Playground) (Rant #2,215, September 3, 2018): It was Labor Day on September 3 of that year, and I lamented the fact that I was laboring on that day, not having the day off from work like most people did. I acknowledged that the company I worked for was going down the tubes--it did a little more than a year later--but even though we were going into the abyss, I still had to labor on Labor Day, Well, it ended up being just one more Labor Day of work, and then, that was that.

Simply the Best (Rant #2,485, September 3, 2020): Again, I looked at the career of another legend who had just passed away. I was never a Mets fan, but even as a dyed-in-the-wool Yankees fan, I had to hand it to Tom Seaver, probably one of the greatest pitchers of all time and certainly one of the best I had ever seen; I think Bob Gibson was probably a slight notch better, but Seaver was certainly a strong 1A on my list. Rubbing salt on the wound, he won his 300th game as a member of the White Sox on Phil Rizzuto Day at the old Yankee Stadium, but whatever the case, "Tom Terrific" was just that.

A Time of Remembrance (Rant #2,726, September 3, 2021): I was lamenting the upcoming Labor Day of that year, not so much for what Labor Day means, but for the new significance it had taken on for myself and my family. My father passed away on Labor Day 2020, which was on September 7, so I link the holiday with his death; but since Labor Day takes place on a different date each year, it kind of makes the holiday an odd one for myself and my family, because while he died on Labor Day, that day is not the same each year.

"Julia" (Rant #3,775, September 3, 2025: In this Rant, I wrote about actor Mark Copage, who you might remember was one of the stars of the groundbreaking program "Julia," which starred Diahann Carroll, one of the first TV programs with a black female lead. Copage played her son, but when the show ended after a few seasons, Copage kind of fell into obscurity. the reason I wrote about him was that I found one of the couple of records he had made, a bubblegummy 45 "Will It Be Me," and I found it with a picture sleeve. When I found it, I decided to dig into his life and career, and that was the direction of the Rant.

So there you have it.

Fun, sadness, reverence ... September 3 encompassed all of those categories here over the years.

I can say it was fun to look back, but it actually forced me to take a step back ...

And really look into what I wrote about all those years ago.

Sort of like a scrapbook of my thinking during different periods of my life.

I am happy that I have the resource to do that, and the Blog stands as my testament to my life and/or where I was at a particular time in my existence.

All those years ago ... .

Rant #4,010: When I Was Young

Yes, I did go to the skin doctor to get rid of that pre-cancer on my head.

Supposedly, I don't have to worry about it anymore.

But I did ask the doctor why I keep getting these things, and he told me the same thing I already knew.

It might have come from the sun against my scalp from 50 years ago or even more than that, or it could be hereditary.

It could also be because of age, and that is what we are leaning to.

I was never a sun worshiper, and if you knew me way back when in Rochdale Village, you know that I always had a baseball cap on my head, and that baseball cap stayed on my head when we moved to Long Island.

Did I go to the beach and/or to the swimming pool during those years?

Sure I did!

We went all the time, especially when I was in Rochdale Village Day Camp, but I always wore a cap on my head ...

But you never know.

Maybe one day I didn't, and more than 50 years later, these lesions are the result.

When you get older, things get you that you would have never dreamed of when you were younger, and I think that is what is happening to my body now.

All of these things that my body was able to fight off when I was younger are coming out now, and again, you never know what is going on in your body, even when you feel fine, like I do.

Tomorrow, I have to go for an ultrasound test to see if I have any further kidney stones to take care of, and I sure hope that I don't.

I have to drink 24 ounces of water about two hours before I get the test--I am getting the test at 7:30 a.m., so I have to do this at 5 a.m. or thereabouts--and I cannot pee during the period when I do the drinking and I have the test.

That should be so much fun!

I also have to get allergy shots that day, and at least with those, I have known I have bad allergies my entire life, so there are really no surprises with that type of health care ...

Or at least I don't think there are, but again, who really knows?

At this point, I am prepared for just about anything ...

Just about.

And again, I don't want any surprises.

Surprises are supposed to be fun, but as I get older, my surprises are just the opposite.

And all of these things are hitting me all at once, which makes the whole thing even worse.

Those carefree days of youth are definitely done.

But why do my later years have to be so difficult?