March Gladness

New York-
If you stayed on the sunny side of the street it almost felt like Spring had finally arrived in the city. March is like that in this corner of the country. The days are longer and often bright with a hint of blossoms and new leaves to come.
For now, bare trees, rain, and cool temperatures are a lock for the coming weekend. In a couple more Sundays the parks will be packed with the winter weary and their four-legged friends shaking off the stale smell and feel of another Winter spent in the lofts and tiny walk-ups of Manhattan. This morning I saw more than a few New Yorkers wearing the same look Jack Nicholson sported when he so spectacularly snapped in "The Shining".

Linda and I left our daughter Kelly and her husband, Pavol, on the corner of 2nd Avenue and St. Mark's Place about two hours ago as we headed for JFK and a return to San Diego. (There's only so much March I can handle.) They are exhausted from days on the road with their very successful theater company, The Nature Theater of Oklahoma, and the recent opening of "Rambo Solo" an original play conceived and produced by them for the SoHo Repertory Theater Company. We saw it with friends and relatives on Friday night and thought it was wonderful. The critics, including the New York Times, loved it too and the run has been extended. It's nice to see your kids happy and successful. Overnight sensations...after fifteen years of hard work!


Zachary Oberzan in "Rambo Solo" conceived and created by Pavol Liska and Kelly Copper

This trip to "The Apple" will be more memorable than most. Not only did we have the fun of experiencing a daughter and son-in-law's success, but this time we had a beautiful unexpected surprise.

The night before last we had a call from our youngest kid, Katie, telling us that she and Doug are going to be parents in October.

WOW! At 35,000 feet it is beginning to sink in that all my grandpa chops will soon be put to the test. Money and candy out the ears and nose will soon be my stock and trade. Perhaps a swing-set and a trampoline for the backyard are in the cards?

Someone once said: " A grandfather is a man with silver in his hair, gold in his heart and jelly beans in his pockets."

I'm thinking that the really cool grandpas will have M&Ms too.

Gotta get the kid one of these hats.

It Changed EVERYTHING

"You should do a blog."

It wasn't Moses and the burning bush. Actually it was my friend, Mike Leach, his voice coming to me from somewhere in the steam room at the gym. Mike, no doubt having grown tired of yet another tirade from me about something, was probably just trying to get me to shut up.
It was only natural that I considered the steam room just another radio show. After all, I was talking to people I couldn't see and it gave me the opportunity to vent about things that were on my mind without having to break for commercials.

I thought about it and...four years later, here we are. Like radio, it's free and I think worth the price for the two or three of you who stop by to see what's on my mind. Look at it this way: It keeps me from going "postal" and taking hostages in the neighborhood.

It was always easy to pick out the really important events that transpired in my parents' and grandparents' generations. The inventions of the automobile, airplane, radio, TV,and the moon landing were all watershed items in the timeline of humanity. I often found myself wondering if there would be one of those Biggies in my generation.

In 1989 my daughter, Kelly, was a freshman at Dartmouth College. On her first trip home from school that Fall she mentioned something called the Internet. "Dad, you really need to check out the net. We do all of our assignments for our professors via the Internet and you and I could stay in touch on-line." It goes without saying that I had no idea what the kid was talking about and gave her words little heed. That seems to be the way of really big things. They sneak up on you and change your life.

The Internet is hands down the most significant life changing invention of my life. It has given most of us access to information on ANYTHING we care to know about and has provided the means to stay in touch with people who may have slipped from our orbit. It is a Godsend to friendship maintenance.

Through this little blog I have heard from old friends, neighbors and co-workers going back over a span of more than fifty years. I like that more than a little bit.

So here's to the net! It's right up there with velcro, canned beer, Sham Wow, and Mighty Putty. It doesn't get much better than that.

Thanks for stopping by...

It's called...STEALING!

There was Bernie Madoff pleading guilty and heading for a lifetime stay in stony lonesome and still not quite sure what he did wrong. That's the way it is with sociopaths. The rules are for everybody else; not them.

In Bernie's defense I would offer that his conduct has been no different and no less reprehensible than that of our elected officials. The congress and a long line of our nation's chief executives have presided over the greatest theft of wealth in the history of mankind. From the Ponzi scheme of Social Security to the printing of worthless paper money, these guys and gals have run our country with an oversight worthy of Al Capone or the Purple Gang. And...it may be too late to turn things around.

Where is Elliot Ness when you need him?


Thomas Jefferson counseled us, "We must not let our rulers load us with perpetual debt."
(Glad Tom isn't here to see this.)

Can you imagine what the founding fathers, who risked their very lives to create this wonderful country, would think of Barney Frank, Nancy Pelosi, Chris Dodd and the likes of that moron Bernie Sanders?

"We gave you a republic and you turned it into a whorehouse!"
(By the way, the only whorehouse in the world that DOESN'T make MONEY!)


I'm not sure what happens to us when it's time to take the BIG nap, but I can conjure up no punishment worse than spending eternity hearing a continuous loop of:

"Grandma? Grandpa? Have you seen my piggy bank?"

Something to ponder while doing your taxes.

I wonder if the stooges in D.C. will take an out of town two party check this year?

Bastards!

The Theater of the MIND

Imagine my surprise to read a story in the paper that the Padres are really going all out this year for the baseball fans of San Diego. They announced that no longer will they brazenly charge $9 for an imported beer at Petco Park. Henceforth the price will be only $8.50! How's that for taking care of cash strapped Americans who enjoy our country's national pass time? (Domestic beers like Bud will remain a thrifty $6.50.) These baseball big shot bazillionaires really DO care about the little guy. I wonder if other teams are planning similar stimulus packages?

Looks like another year of catching most of the games on the radio for this corespondent. But, that's okay. Radio and baseball were made for each other. A good play-by-play announcer and capable color man can often make a game far more exciting than it really is via the audio picture that they paint.

Someone once told me that radio was the only medium that "worked from the inside out". The intimacy created by a gifted radio broadcaster conveys information in such a personal way that the listener internalizes it in the same way he or she receives and stores information shared with a close friend in a private conversation. A carefully crafted live ad for a restaurant might well cause a listener to file away knowledge regarding the eatery for several days before acting on it. Then, all of a sudden, it jumps out on a Friday night something like this: "I know! Let's check out that new Italian place on Chesapeake Avenue....I hear that it's great."

Useful information from a "good friend" recalled at just the right time. It has always been radio's gift and it worked for years.

Lately, in the turmoil of consolidation, the folks in charge of radio have forgotten the magic. They have tossed out the freaks and ego maniacs who provided the talent that made it work. It is now an industry of researchers and accountants who have managed to kill the golden goose in an attempt to figure out how it was laying all those precious eggs. Morons are in charge at the asylum.

As a kid just getting into the radio game, I used to listen to Arthur Godfrey. Not because I liked his show but because there was NOBODY better at selling products than "the old redhead". NOBODY. He had the ability to segue into a commercial and be out of it before you even knew you'd been sold something. He was your friend telling you about something wonderful he had discovered. Before Godfrey, few knew much of anything about Lipton Tea. He put them on the map.

Stories abound about what a bastard he was to his staff and others, but there was no denying when he was in front of a microphone----he was your best friend. A major talent.

Rush Limbaugh has over twenty million listeners and is a gifted broadcaster. He has carved a niche with listeners who, like me, appreciate his refreshing common sense take on the incredible load of crap that the political establishment wants us to swallow. I applaud him for that. But, Rush never seems to be talking just to me. He always seems to be speaking to an auditorium full of "you people" which means he never quite connects on a personal level. Maybe that's by design. All I know is that he is leaving out the intimate part of our most intimate medium.

Paul Harvey had the "one-on-one" intimacy polished to perfection. PERFECTION! He, like Godfrey, was a master of the medium of radio. He was scary good. And, now he too is gone.

I know that nothing lasts forever. The Pony Express is history and the village smithy is a thing of the past. Maybe radio as a viable medium is headed for the barn.

This much is certain: Radio today is being run by a cadre of buffoons not unlike the man who bought a fine restaurant, fired the chef, cut the portions and then wondered why he had no customers.

"And now you know...the rest of the story."