Dick and Jane

     Reading is a superpower no matter how it is taught. I learned with Dick and Jane. Despite the easy criticism that it was stereotypical I made the connection very quickly in my reading group and have never looked back with a regret. The whole word method of Dick and Jane largely replaced the previous standard in the 1930s, the phonics-based McGuffey Readers. (Thanks to Wikipedia for background.)

     It's been pointed out to me that we are now largely an image-based society based on the widespread usage of technologies like Instagram. The reasoning continues with the idea that some people lack the time for reading. It's largely true that a picture is worth a thousand words, as the old saw goes, but give me a book, comfortable chair, and good light anytime over an image, icon, or symbol. Nothing wrong with these and the clarity of a Stop Sign is truly needed in our fast paced, automobile society.

     Books, Galileo argued, are our sole means of having superhuman powers while remaining resolutely human — the power of traversing the abysses of space, time, chance, and misunderstanding that gape between our own life, our own self, our own subjective experience, and another’s. (Thanks to Maria Popova)

     One of the best Twilight Zone episodes featured Burgess Meredith as a man who wanted nothing more than to spend his time reading.

     He made a most sympathetic character in my eyes. Isn't that what we strive for as writers, an interesting story with a character or two we can like? Or is it more like F. Scott Fitzgerald noted:

     “Mostly, we authors must repeat ourselves - that's the truth. We have two or three great and moving experiences in our lives - experiences so great and moving that it doesn't seem at the time anyone else has been so caught up and so pounded and dazzled and astonished and beaten and broken and rescued and illuminated and rewarded and humbled in just that way ever before.

     Then we learn our trade, well or less well, and we tell our two or three stories - each time in a new disguise - maybe ten times, maybe a hundred, as long as people will listen.”
     ― F. Scott Fitzgerald

Less Stuff

     Too much stuff is a common complaint. There were jokes which began in the 1980s about the person who dies with the most stuff wins. As if your stuff will make you a winner or loser.

     I liked competing at sports when I was younger. Baseball, Track, and a version of American Football without tackling. I won and I lost. Both sides of the outcomes had their lessons. Go on a winning streak and you think it will never end, then it does. The immediate thought is that you'll start another winning streak, then it never happens. Very common outcomes in life, just like acquiring too much stuff.

     Yes, I sometimes wish I had saved every scrap of paper from every year of my schooling. Then I think about all the moves I made and how heavy it would have been to take my entire past with me on each successive move. Yes, I could have put it in storage or left it with my parents, but what's the point of stuff if you have to make a special trip to see it or use it?

     "You hit a certain age, and suddenly a major source of happiness comes from having less stuff."--Hugh MacLeod

     So I joined the minimalists at a tender age and lost all chance of sitting by a fire in my golden years and rereading my 3rd grade science papers. Not a big loss you might readily admit, unless you are a hoarder.

     I will say that some of my college professors provided their classes with notes which would have stood the test of time, as well as a couple of high school teachers, Milo Okkema comes to mind.

     I had him for an elective class in Economics. His notes were typed on both sides of the mimeograph sheets he would hand out. He had so much to say he would even turn the sheets on their sides and type, no white space was wasted by this good Dutchman. I feel very fortunate to have been taught by him at his peak because it was clear to everyone in the class that he was giving this subject his all. He retired five years later in 1980 at the modest age of 55, thanks to a hard fought teachers union contract which was negotiated in the early 1970s. No doubt his thriftiness helped make his pension go further than for most.

The Measure of a Life Well Lived

     As thoughts turn to the coming new year it's hard not to reflect upon what has gone before. The question of whether you are living life well nags us all, though not everyone will admit it, even to themselves.

     If you do a search with my preferred search engine Duck, Duck, Go on the phrase "Life Well Lived" you come across plenty of inspirational quotes and pictures:

  “If you can fall in love again and again… if you can forgive as well as forget, if you can keep from growing sour, surly, bitter and cynical… you’ve got it half licked.”--Henry Miller

     Not sure if they are any solace, especially if upon further inspection you are none too happy with you life. But who IS happy all the time? Certainly not the rich people, as they are always afraid of losing their wealth and being forced to live a life of extreme want. Probably best to set you sights high but accept the inevitable fact you are going to have some blue days, as well as some terrible days. That's just how life works. Here's one description I'll do my level best to avoid:

   "Those who are truly decrepit, living corpses, so to speak, are the middle-aged, middle class men and women who are stuck in their comfortable grooves and imagine that the status quo will last forever or else are so frightened it won’t that they have retreated into their mental bomb shelters to wait it out." --Henry Miller

     #LovingKindness is the hashtag I saw on the Internet last year which reminds me of the frame of mind to keep whenever you feel like criticizing someone who hasn't had all your advantages. A pithy version of the opening lines to one of my favorite novels, The Great Gatsby:

     "In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since.

     Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

Going Away To College

     The title to the final blog post I might write here could easily read: "Going Away To College"

     Going away to school meant you were an adult, you had to figure things out for yourself. You even had to be prepared to do your own laundry! I thought it was quite the extravagence when I learned that the college would launder your sheets for a small fee every week if you carried them across campus and picked them up the following week.

     I arrived at Dickinson College with a dreamy image of what college life would be like. I was looking for transcendent performances, ones I could never forget, where a professor fully-formed comes out and offered us truths or just a single bit of truth that I'd always remember. Fortunately, I attended a four-year residential Liberal Arts college in the late 1970s and the professors who would mold the rest of my life were all in residence! Not only do I remember their words, mostly those completely unrelated to course work, but I can recall quite fondly seeing them doing the normal things of life like collecting their mail, walking to work, and have a laugh with a colleague or student in the academic quad. It was quite idyllic and certainly worth every penny, $5000 for my entire freshman year.

     For that princely sum there was one pay phone per dormitory building wing and one local phone per floor. It was an event when an outside call was forwarded to our floor and we scrambled to find the person the call was intended for.

 Denny Hall--first class: American History

Believe it or not this was the Gymnasium! Later reconfigured into an Arts Center.

First Year Spanish Class

      La clase de Espanol

     There are many people willing to bet that you could walk into a meeting with people over the age of 40, say "Esta Susana en casa" and at least ONE person will give you the next line. My in-laws were from Cuban and always had a good laugh whenever I would entertain them with this dialogue. So stilted yet so memorable.

     The junior high school issued us all a box of 45s, vinyl records with all the dialogues we were required to learn. In high school there was a language lab we were supposed to visit and listen to more dialogues. Not sure either was effective as being around Latins and simply practicing. Later in life when I was a restaurateur I used my Spanish to great advantage. My old maestros would have been proud.

     Now I am reviewing my past work in Spanish and German languages using the online website Duolingo. It truly takes me back to when I first began language study in the 7th grade. We all knew going in we had to take a language or else we couldn't go to college. So I chose the obvious one because even then it was clear Spanish would be of some use. Who knew I would marry a Cuban and become fully indoctrinated into their warm and inclusive culture.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

     According to Wikipedia:
     "A Charlie Brown Christmas is a 1965 animated television special, and is the first TV special based on the comic strip Peanuts, by Charles M. Schulz. Produced by Lee Mendelson and directed by Bill Melendez, the program made its debut on CBS on December 9, 1965.

     Did anyone instinctively know the first time they saw A Charlie Brown Christmas and heard the Vince Guaradi Trio that their album would become such a hit? I'd like to believe I did, but time has proven it true despite my imaginings. Such an irreverent and catchy tune like Linus and Lucy which Schroeder can't seem to stop himself from playing is anything but a Christmas or Hanukkah song, but is intimately associated with this time of year.

     I always liked that there never were any adults in the Peanuts comic strips, TV shows or movies. Only "Wa Wa Wa" is ever heard and that's ok. Kids don't always need adult supervision and around the holidays even more so. Adults need a holiday, too.

     I usually make an appointment with my TV to annually watch this special, instead of watching it as a stream as I do with most everything else. As I grow older the penultimate moment is no less inspiring. It occurs, of course, when Linus helps Charlie Brown out of his quandary about the true meaning of Christmas. I don't think anyone wouldn't like a friend like Linus. Maybe not all your life but certainly from ages 5 to 10. Funny thing is while the audience can readily see this true friend, it's never verbally recognized as far as I know by Charlie Brown himself. That's probably the reason Lucy used to call him a blockhead or maybe I just missed something.

Dogs

     If you never had a dog for a pet growing up I feel for you. Whether it was because you had alergies, or no time and interest, this is something you missed.
Admittedly, they are a lot of work, and not all pets turn out to be gems. Though it is worth taking that chance and I have learned plenty from these four-legged friends throughout my life.

     The only bad thing you can say about them is they don't live long enough. While they are alive they tend to not care what happened at school or work. Their top most concern is that you are home and with them. Couldn't be simpler, right? Unconditional love.

Favorite Beatle

     Who was your favorite Beatle is kind of like asking, "Who was your best friend growing up?"

     Truth be told, all the friends I knew growing up had a hand in making me the person I have become. Obviously, some more than others. Though to pick out one in particular does all the others a disservice. The further removed I grow from those halcyon days the less I can recall my friends and any of their particular so-called imperfections. This is a good thing! Total recall is overrated. I prefer that time dim my memory ever so casually and leave me with a few good ones. Like the Beatles song, In My Life:

There are places I remember

All my life though some have changed

Some forever not for better

Some have gone and some remain

All these places have their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

In my life I've loved them all

Home-Schooling

                   Willard School Graduates from 1971 in 2012

   
     When I was growing up, home-schooling occurred when you had the Chicken Pox, were kept out of school for a week or two, and the teacher sent home assignments for you to keep up with the class.

     Beginning in the 1970s this changed as a growing number of parents didn't feel their children were receiving a good enough education from their public school and decided that they could do it better themselves at home.

     The biggest complaint about home-schooling is that it inhibits the habits of socialization learned in public school. This far outstrips anything you learn in the classroom. By this I mean coming to understand the fine shading of different personalities you can't help but encounter in a public school system and how to get along with each of them. When I visited a prep school in Massachusetts there was hardly a lick of difference between the students or their backgrounds. Though my brother's roommate was black and his posters adorned the walls, it wasn't in any way antagonistic or threatening. His skin was a shade darker but he shared his classmates' manners and upbringing so he fit into the student body with hardly a notice.

     The socialization I'm referring to regarding public school is exemplified by the subtle things you learn in the schoolyard like jumping rope, playing tag, and choosing up sides for a sporting contest. If you are home schooled you are still allowed to participate, even though the rules vary from state to state. But how are you going to hear about the event if you are not in school?

     Ever heard of a home-schooled student developing a crush on a teacher? I don't think so. Those sort of things only happen from close contact with an adult who is kind to you. The wild imaginings are usually all in the child's head, not the teacher.

     I'm not sure whether I would home school my kids since I don't have any so the point is moot. I have never been asked by my friends nor have I ever commented about the veracity of the idea. Teaching is a lot of work and requires a unique dedication and commitment. If someone wants to do this for the right reasons, like an underfunded or lack luster public school system, I'm not going to talk them out of it.

     I guess if I were to choose I'd begin children in the local public school. Be an active participant in the PTA and get to know the principal. Your mileage may vary, especially depending upon how far away you live from the grade school.

Performance Versus Trust

     A video making the rounds of the Internet. A two minute explanation on the difference between people you would trust with your money and family and those you wouldn't.

Ridgewood Storytellers: Anything Can Happen

      In 2016, the Ridgewood Public Library was awarded a grant from the Bergen County Division of Cultural & Historic Affairs. The grant funded "Storytellers @RPL," an Oral History Project aimed to document, preserve and celebrate the rich history of the community of Ridgewood, New Jersey.

            https://www.ridgewoodlibrary.org/storytellers-rpl

     Just today I was lamenting the lack of historical records (that I was aware of) on the subject of Ridgewood. Then I recalled the Ridgewood Public Library, that great incubator of civic responsibility and new ideas. They have been busy collecting oral histories of village residents, some going back 60 years or more. I've provided a link above. I take great delight when they say they lived in Ridgewood when my family did because I have an old phonebook from 1976. I check to see where they live or lived and am drawn back ever so slightly to a simpler time.

      I hope one day to add my recollections but truly hope many others will add their own before I do. It's a fantastic program and short of a museum the best way the history can be recorded and considered by those who lived through the same times. Maybe they will one day add a response section for people who remember things differently. Until that day I'll take these oral histories with no complaint, especially since they provide written transcripts along with the recordings.

The Expected Never Comes To Pass!

     It's a common story in most of our childhoods: we are anxious more often about things that never happen, than we will ever admit. 


     The first century Roman Stoic Philosopher Seneca:
     "There are more things … likely to frighten us than there are to crush us; we suffer more often in imagination than in reality." 

     Why didn't they tell us this in school every day? Start the day out, immediately after the morning announcements from the Principal were broadcast over the PA system, with a few words of philosophy that have stood the test of time. We might have made a load of jokes about it but anybody looking back years later would be hard pressed to doubt the efficacy of what this daily pause for reflection in our lives might have contributed to a happier and less anxious childhood for many.

     Maybe the Pledge of Allegiance aimed for a philosophic contribution to our lives by imbuing us with a sense of duty to country. Though the effect of the same pledge every day probably reduced its facility to make us more civic minded. Very little was said about the pledge after we had memorized it in the first grade. It grew by repetition in many cases to merely signify whether or not a teacher possessed the ability to control her or his class with only a glare. If they could initiate the recitation of the pledge without any objections and complete it without any interruptions, then they possessed the minimum capacities required of an educator. Or so it seemed.