IN SEARCH OF AN OPENING SONG OR … SOMETHING
. . .
“Silence is golden” is a proverbial saying often used in circumstances where it is thought that saying nothing is preferable to speaking. That proverb could apply today for many cell-phone users.
When it comes to communicating with one another face . . .
As the college football season approaches I think how Band Alumni of Notre Dame (B.A.N.D.) are invited about every four years to participate in a band reunion at a football game.
It’s a wonderful experience involving about 600 band alumni from throughout . . .
Way back in 1963 there was an American epic comedy film titled “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” starring Spencer Tracy about the madcap pursuit of $350,000 in stolen cash by a diverse and colorful group of strangers. The comedy all-star cast . . .
Some sad stories have a relatively happy ending. That’s sort of the case for Ralph Knuth of Waynedale. On March 27 he reluctantly had to say good-bye to his dog, Spirit, a 10-year old Labrador retriever who had been with the Army veteran since he . . .
When I was in graduate school at Northwestern University near Chicago, I took a photography course. What a revolting development my final project turned out to be.
We’re talking a long time ago when black-and-white photography and film were in vogue. . . .
Stephen Felicichia, the son of Robert and Joan Felicichia, of Waynedale, will be ordained to the Sacred Order of Deacon in the Catholic Church on Saturday, May 18, at 11:00 a.m., in the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception in downtown Fort Wayne.
Following . . .
Most folks generally know that St. Patrick is a saint of the Catholic Church, and that his feast day is observed on March 17 (the day he died). And many may have heard about what made him a saint in the eyes of the Church: he converted the pagans of . . .
Most of us know our Nation observes the birthdays of Presidents George Washington (Feb. 22) and Abraham Lincoln (Feb. 12) this month on President’s Day (Feb. 20).
Some folks commemorate Groundhog Day (Feb. 2) and Flag Day (Feb. 24). We’re also familiar . . .
One of my favorite songs is “Toyland.” Even well past the Christmas season, I find myself humming its melody from time to time. Actually, “Toyland” is not really a Christmas carol at all, but it obviously is played throughout the holiday season . . .
As you may know, if you read the article I wrote last month, we moved – again! And in the midst of the myriad of stuff we came across a decorative board we thought would make an excellent fireplace mantel. It served as a shelf in our previous home. Once it may have been a headboard, a piece off of a cabinet or hutch; who knows. Marty got it at an auction.
Its length was perfect but it was a little too wide. So, I dutifully set up my sawhorses, got out my saber saw and fixed a wood blade in it, secured my protective goggles, found the masking tape and made ready to begin sawing the back end of the board where there appeared to be a hairline crack running the length of the wood.
Then she came out into the garage. Marty, that is, and said, “You’re going to put masking tape along where you’re cutting aren’t you so the wood doesn’t splinter?” I answered, “Of course, I was just getting ready to do that!” Then Marty said, “Wait a minute. I’ll bet you could just do a couple of taps with a hammer on the back end of the board where it’s already split and that piece would come right off. I think it’s just glued on.”
“Oh no, that won’t work,” I said. “Hitting it with a hammer would just cause it to splinter. I’m just going to begin slowly sawing …”
Wham! Marty hit the back end of the board with a hammer and … Splat! The back of the board fell off cleanly onto the garage floor.
After her laughter subsided somewhat I opened the door into the house and politely asked her to leave. But, I could still hear her cackling and chortling inside for several more minutes. Most of the morning, in fact.
I pride myself on being a good reader and speaker. I read for the sight impaired with the Allen County Public Library’s audio reading service, I serve as an announcer at concerts for the Fort Wayne Area Community Band and I proclaim Scripture readings at St. Therese Church. On one occasion many years ago, I was reading the prayer petitions in church and sternly said, “Let us pray for Pen-a-lope Martin who is in the hospital.”
When I returned to the pew and sat down next to Marty, she asked, “Let me see those petitions.” Then she whispered, “That’s Pe-nel-o-pe, not Pen-a-lope!” The snickering began, but since we were in church, she had to stifle it until Mass was over and we were outside.
I argued that the muskmelon variety is pronounced “can-ta-loupe” so it was only natural for me to say Pen-a-lope, but to no avail. Like I said, I don’t want to talk about it!
Finally, just so you know, it happens to other people, too. I worked with a colleague who didn’t get along with our boss very well. They met in the restroom on a Tuesday morning years ago after ABC first began televising Monday Night Football. There were three renowned broadcasters, now all deceased, serving for years on those telecasts: American Sports Journalist, Author and Broadcaster Howard Cosell, widely known for his blustery, often-pompous personality; laid-back Joseph “Dandy Don” Meredith, a former Dallas Cowboys quarterback, sports commentator and actor; and Frank Gifford, a past halfback and flanker for the New York Giants who served as the play-by-play announcer and commentator. But the boss couldn’t quite remember Gifford’s name and said to my work associate, “Wha-cha-think of that broadcasting team last night, especially Charlie Gifford. My colleague countered with “Who?” The boss then exclaimed, “What? You don’t know who Charlie Gifford is! Big sports enthusiast like you who follows all the games. Surely you should know who he is. He played for the Giants and is married to television personality Kathie Lee Gifford.”
“Oh, you mean Frank Gifford,” my colleague rejoined.
“I guess it is Frank,” mumbled the boss as he hurriedly left the restroom, tossing a paper towel toward the wastebasket but missing the mark.
Admittedly, moving is never easy especially this time at our age even though it was just six houses down the same street. That’s right, six houses! But that didn’t make it that much easier. It was still a move! And we’ve got a garage half full of extra stuff even though we tried to give some things to our children — but as you probably know, our kids don’t want our keep sakes – and the rest went to, or is going to, charities, an auction house, a garage sale and into our new attic.
Among the many so-called “treasures” I ran across during the move was a display case containing medals I won in the annual NISBOVA (Northern Indiana School Band, Orchestra, Vocal Association) solo and ensemble contests at both local and state levels. The case also held the emblem off my band hat from Central Catholic High School (CCHS). The school, on the corner of Lewis and Clinton streets in downtown Fort Wayne, was closed in 1972 and eventually torn down.
Both Mary Lou (Thieme) Morris and I were members of the CCHS Band and now play in the Fort Wayne Area Community Band (FWACB). But after talking with her following a recent Community Band rehearsal, I was both surprised and then felt sort of like a petty thief whose crime had caught up with him.
Mary Lou took on the enormous task of creating a collection of artifacts from the CCHS Band and they are now showcased at Bishop Dwenger High School. She and a few others, including several donors, amassed an impressive display of band memorabilia, i.e. uniforms, banners, drum major and majorette paraphernalia, batons, medals, etc. But the collection includes only two white band hats from all the many young musicians who marched and played in that high school “Fighting Irish” band. And one of those hats just recently found is mine, Mary Lou told me! My name is lettered inside it, but it’s missing its emblem, she related.
Am I ashamed? You bet! And as I’m writing this exposé that emblem with CCHS displayed above a golden eagle is now setting next to my keyboard. And after our next FWACB rehearsal it’s going to be given to Mary Lou to be returned to the front of my empty hat. And then I’m going to show her that glass case containing 30 tarnished medals, hopefully, for the CCHS Band collection as well. Better they continue decaying in a display case at Dwenger than in our dingy attic!
Finally, I’ve got one more confession to make. I’ve got another golden emblem off a band hat from the one I wore with the University of Notre Dame “Fighting Irish” Marching Band. Honestly, folks, I’m not in the habit of stealing and I don’t recall taking anything else of value. But if someone from the Community Band is reading this, not to worry. We don’t wear hats because we don’t march. And besides, we’re not known as a “Band of the Fighting Irish.”
When we discover something curious of this nature – statements, facts, discoveries – while looking for something else — this experience is called serendipity, the faculty of making fortunate discoveries by accident. So, let’s look for seven more serendipitous statements.
We are indebted to English Author Horace Walpole for our second discovery – the word serendipity. He formed the word from an old name for Sri Lanka, Serendip. Walpole explained this name was part of the title of “a silly fairytale called The Three Princes of Serendip: As their highnesses traveled, they always were making discoveries, by accident and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of …”
Next on our list of discoveries is the period at the end of this sentence. It looks innocent enough. But scientists tell us the universe is which we exist with about a 100 billion galaxies, some 14 billion years ago, was contained in a speck smaller than a period. The speck expanded suddenly in a billionth of a second bringing the universe – and the Big-Bang theory – into existence.
Continuing the topic of the universe, the sun is so large that, if it were hollow, it could contain more than one million worlds the size of our earth. And there are stars in space so large they easily could hold 500 million suns the size of ours.
Fifth, the Monarch butterfly makes an annual migration across North America to avoid winter weather. In autumn, tens of millions of Monarchs fly south and roost in huge numbers on trees in selected mountain areas of California and Mexico. Their journey can cover more than 2,000 miles. In addition, Monarch butterflies use the same trees year after year. Each butterfly, in fact, reportedly returns to the same branch!
New species of underwater life, including a giant sea spider and armored shrimps, have been discovered by an expedition trawling in deep water northwest of New Zealand. Researchers on a joint NZ and Australian voyage also found many species new to science, including new sharks and rays, redfish, rattails and a range of invertebrates. In total, 500 species of fish and 1,300 invertebrates were discovered.
About 8.7-million plants, animals, fungi and single-celled organisms are thought to exist on Earth, although estimates for this figure range from 3 million to 100 million. Around 1.7- million species have already been classified, but this leaves the vast majority of life on Earth undescribed or undiscovered. Most of those species yet to be discovered are likely to be tiny, such as bacteria and insects, and inhabit poorly explored areas like the deep ocean and soil. However, larger animals, to include rodents, snakes, salamanders and even primates, are still being found. Between 1999 and 2010, a staggering 615 new species were discovered on the island of Madagascar alone, including 69 amphibians, 61 reptiles and 41 mammals.
Finally, Emperor penguins live in the coldest climate on earth. Temperatures can drop as low as minus 140 degrees Fahrenheit on the Antarctic ice. After mating, the female lays one large egg. The egg immediately is rolled to the top of the male’s feet where it is incubated by a thick fold of skin that hangs from his belly. The males manage to survive by standing huddled in groups for up to nine weeks. During this time the female returns to the open sea to feed while the male continues to keep the egg warm, often losing about half of his body weight because he does not eat. (See the film, March of the Penguins).
A professor stood before his philosophy class with some items in front of him. When class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large, empty mayonnaise jar and filled it with golf balls. He asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed it was.
The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He asked the students again if the jar was full and they agreed it was.
The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. The sand filled up the visible remaining space. Once more he asked if the jar was full. The students responded with a unanimous “yes.”
The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured their entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space within the sand. The students laughed. “Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things – God, your family, children, health, friends and favorite passions – things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.
“The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, home and car. The sand is everything else – the small stuff. If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls.
“The same goes for life, if you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you never will have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with you children and grandchildren. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There always will be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first – the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”
One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented.
The professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”
Legend attributes the Maxwell House Coffee slogan, “Good to the last drop,” to President Theodore Roosevelt. Once, while a guest, he was asked if he wanted another cup of coffee. “Teddy” is said to have replied, “Will I have another? Delighted! It’s good to the last drop!”
Finally, not only is coffee “good to the last drop,” so is all of life! In a hurry to rush onto life’s next experience, we frequently leave lots of life “untasted,” concentrating only on the sand – the small stuff. So, when things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar “filled” with golf balls. And please share this with someone your care about. We just did – you, our loyal readers!
Maybe it was a Hollywood celebrity, movie star or Broadway headliner. Perhaps it was a recording artist, television entertainer or sports star. Whoever it was, we’ll wager you were thrilled with the opportunity to shake the person’s hand, get an autograph, have your picture taken with the celeb or be introduced and greet him or her face to face.
It doesn’t count if you were sitting in the audience or in a stadium and the superstar was on stage or on the field. You have to have made a personal encounter and not just shouted out as the luminary came near, “Hey there!” And your superstar can’t be included if all he or she did was tell you to “Get lost!”
Many of you probably travel in broader circles than me and so have met many public figures. Here’s my list in no particular order along with the circumstances surrounding each encounter:
Stars of stage, screen and entertainment:
William Bendix – slammed his dressing room door on a classmate and me after we met and took his picture for a college photography class assignment in Chicago.
Will Hutchins – invited me and the same classmate into his dressing room for a chat before we took his picture.
Ethel Merman – met her in Chicago after a performance of “Gypsy” by a cousin who was her assistant stage manager.
Donny Osmond – introduced after his performance in “Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” in Chicago by friends whose son was in the production.
Henny Youngman and Morey Amsterdam – said “hello” in a bar and restroom, respectively, after they appeared in separate years at the Press Club’s “Gridiron Roast” at the Coliseum in Fort Wayne.
Doc Severnson – introduced to him in his dressing room at intermission by a friend of a friend at a concert at Niles (Michigan) High School.
Jim Davis – met at a filming session for a promotional video on “Muncie” (Indiana) featuring his cartoon creation “Garfield.”
Shelley Long – met at Kingston Nursing Home, Fort Wayne, where her late mother was residing.
Sports celebrities:
Ara Parseghian – met him and took his picture when he was a guest on a local high-school TV show.
Daniel “Rudy” Ruettiger – said “hello” in a bar in South Bend shortly after he was the subject of the Notre Dame movie “Rudy.” All I could think to say to him was “Nice movie!”
Several Notre Dame football, men’s and women’s basketball players – at games or “smoker” appearances.
Presidents:
Fathers Theodore M. Hesburgh and Edward “Monk” Malloy, CSC, — former presidents of the University of Notre Dame, at Notre Dame.
President Dwight D. Eisenhower — while I didn’t actually meet him according to my “rules” as stated above, I included him just to impress you. He reviewed a squad of Army ROTC cadre at Notre Dame prior to graduation ceremonies where he was the featured speaker. Although not a ROTC member, I was asked to stand in the formation for inspection in my ND Band uniform to “fill out” the ranks. I remember the Chief Executive looked at me rather curiously.
Finally, there are two very famous persons I forgot to mention meeting. Of course, they are based on my belief system at the time: Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny!
My wife, Marty, and I love dogs, almost as much as dogs love people. We have our own beloved, 40-pound Golden Retriever/Briard mix named Taffy. We adopted her from Animal Care & Control. And, we have a miniature Schnauzer called Sadie given to Marty by an elderly gentleman at the Southside Market who said he and his wife could no longer care for her.
Our dogs’ only discomfort occurs when we have to kennel them when we’re going to be out of town for several days. Probably it’s not as hard on them as it is on us. They also miss us when we leave the house – for five minutes or five hours! Even at the puppy stage, when we returned they greeted us as if it had been five days! Often, neither dog will eat when we’re away. Would you be that devoted to someone you love to wait all day for the person to return before eating anything?
Through the animal shelter where Marty volunteers, we’ve been privileged to foster puppies and kittens through the years. It was our opportunity to give them a goodly amount of love, attention and some direction so they didn’t develop fears and anxieties about humans resulting from ill-treatment. We also helped assess them as to whether or not each pup or kitten eventually would make a good family pet.
Our affection for dogs goes beyond the obvious that they are cute, cuddly, cheerful companions. What attracts us most is their loyalty, alertness, free spirit and illusive inner drive to bond with humans, especially their owners. Dogs don’t usually hold a grudge or try to get even if they’ve been left alone or scolded. Many dogs are devoted almost to a fault to their human masters, which is why some people prefer the independence and aloofness of a cat.
Take for example the legend of the homeless Skye Terrier named Bobby from Edinburgh, Scotland. As a pup he attached himself to an elderly shepherd named Auld Jock. After Jock died in 1858, Bobby guarded his master’s grave, day and night, for 14 years. He only left the cemetery to go to the Greyfriars dining room where Jock used to eat with his constant companion in a corner by the fireplace. There each day Bobby was given food which he carried to the grave site to eat. Moved by his devotion, the citizens erected a shelter at the cemetery to protect the loyal canine from the harsh, winter winds. In 1872, when Bobby died, the townsfolk arranged to have the little dog buried next to his beloved master. They also contracted for a statue of Bobby atop a fountain looking toward the cemetery. Dogs like Bobby can be a model for us today in our faithfulness to family, friends and loved ones.
Lest you think we’re ignoring the problems that can occur with any dog, especially a stray like Bobby, let us mention just a few: dog hair, independence – you’ve probably heard of the bull-headedness of a terrier – constant begging around food, concern that any dog can bite someone under certain circumstances, running away, jumping up on visitors, annoying guests who don’t like or who are afraid of dogs, barking just when you’re trying to hear something or when a delivery person approaches, and the occasional “mess” on the floor.
But, dogs “humanize humans” and help us rediscover our better selves, which includes being humble enough to clean up a mess and giving enough to share the couch with a canine companion. A goal for any dog owner is to be the kind of person your dog thinks you are. Many of us, in fact, are better persons for having known and loved a pet, especially a dog.
And when you come home at night with only the shattered pieces of your hopes and dreams, your dog can mend them like new with the magic wagging of its tail as if to say, “Welcome home. I missed you!”
I love a rainy day! There’s something wholesome about a refreshing rain which washes everything clean. And I enjoy the way nearly everyone scurries about trying to avoid getting wet and the humorous scenes of people struggling with their umbrellas. No one lingers outside in the rain so the world seems less crowded and more at peace.
Now I’m not ready to join a cast of Singin’ in the Rain, but there are feelings of joy and security as one watches a steady downpour from the shelter of home, office and even a vehicle. I love a good thunderstorm, too, although our dogs would disagree strongly if they had the courage to come out from under a table or away from my wife and me amidst the flashing lightening and booming thunder.
Many movies contain music written about rain. There’s my favorite, the 1952 musical mentioned above starring Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor, Debbie Reynolds and Cyd Chrisse. I love the words sung by Kelly, “What a glorious feeling/And I’m happy again. I’m laughing at clouds so dark, up above/The sun’s in my heart/And I’m ready for love.” Perhaps the most popular musical was the 1964 film, My Fair Lady. After several entertaining song sequences, Eliza (Audrey Hepburn) and Professor Higgins (Rex Harrison) conquer her pronunciation problems, and, celebrate with a dance to “The Rain in Spain Falls Mainly on the Plain.”
B.J. Thomas wrote, “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” made popular in 1969 as the theme for the film, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford. In a twist on typical rain songs, it speaks about the inability of the rain to douse faith in the return of happiness.
“Too Much Rain” is a song by Paul McCartney. It was inspired by the theme to the 1936 film Modern Times, written by Charlie Chaplin and commonly known as “Smile.” The lyrics of McCartney’s song concern hope in the face of adversity (“Laugh when your eyes are burning/Smile when your heart is filled with pain…”).
Perhaps all these remembrances about rain are leading you to insert the popular English nursery rhyme, “Rain, rain go away/Come again another day.” Or, lead you to side with The Carpenters’ 1971 song lyrics, “Rainy Days and Mondays/Always get me down.”
Other popular songs about rain — best listened to with the patter of raindrops on your window pane — include: Brook Benton’s “Rainy Night in Georgia” (1970) in which he states, “I feel like it’s rainin’ all over the world” and the Creedence Clearwater Revival hit, “Who’ll Stop the Rain?” (1970). The latter song was used as the theme for the 1978 film Who’ll Stop the Rain starring Nick Nolte as a Vietnam veteran.
John Lennon explained that the Beatles’ “Rain” (1966) concerns “people moaning about the weather all the time.” In Soul Singer Ann Peebles’ “I Can’t Stand the Rain” (1973) she states that rain does have the ability to usher in painful memories. And one of Prince’s signature songs, “Purple Rain” (1984) states, “I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain.”
Does all of this mean that “April showers bring May flowers?” Or, perhaps more accurately, “Warm temperatures in April bring May flowers”? (But that doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?) And remember, the occurrence of “false springs” — warm spells that trigger flowering but are followed by a hard frost — mean early flowers might die.
To sum up, many people find rain an inconvenience, an annoyance or a stimulus to cast them into a melancholy mood. Others welcome the rain experience while sleeping, studying or relaxing – indoors, of course.
If you were born before 150 B.C., according to the oldest Roman calendars, one year was 10 months long, beginning in March and ending in December. It may sound crazy, but you can still see traces of this old system in our modern calendar: because December was the 10th month, it was named for the number 10 in Latin (decem), just like September was named for seven (septem). So, what about January and February? They were just two nameless months called “winter,” proving that winter literally is so awful it doesn’t even deserve a spot on the calendar.
Like Groundhog Day last month, the first day of March is another opportunity to predict the weather. Tradition says if it’s mild and gentle like a lamb, then the last day will “march” in as fierce as a lion. If the first day is harsh with the wind roaring like a lion, then the 31st will be as fair and mild as a lamb.
This month is referred to as “March Madness” because the NCAA Division I men’s and women’s basketball tournaments begin mid-month at various sites around the country. The safest bet you can make is that lots of people will be distracted. One number-crunching firm predicted last year that American companies would lose $1.9 billion in wages paid to unproductive workers spending company time on betting pool priorities.
Four United States Presidents were born in March: James Madison (5, 1751), Andrew Jackson (15, 1767), Grover Cleveland (18, 1837) and John Tyler (29, 1790). Lots of other famous people also were born this month. March 3 and 4 are the birthdays of Dr. Seuss (1904) and Alexander Graham Bell (1847), respectively. Wouldn’t Bell be amazed at how his “smart” invention of the telephone in 1876 has grown into a way of life today. But consider this Western Union internal memo from that same year: “This ‘telephone’ has too many shortcomings to be seriously considered as a means of communication. The device is inherently of no value to us.”
Albert Einstein was born on March 14, 1879. This famous genius, when asked for his telephone number on one occasion, had to look it up in a telephone directory. We can’t do that today, however.
We’ve all heard it uttered, but what does “beware the Ides of March” actually mean? On the Roman calendar, the midpoint of every month was known as the Ides. The Ides of March fell on March 15th. This day was supposed to correlate with the first full moon of the year (remember, winter didn’t count then) and marked by religious ceremonies. But thanks to Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar we know it for another reason. Supposedly, in 44 B.C., a seer told Julius Caesar that his downfall would come no later than the Ides of March. Caesar ignored him, and when the fated day rolled around he joked with the seer, “The Ides of March have come.” The seer replied, “Aye, Caesar; but not gone.” Caesar continued on to a senate meeting at the Theatre of Pompey, and, was summarily murdered by as many as 60 conspirators. Ironically, the spot where Caesar was assassinated is protected in today’s Rome as a no-kill cat sanctuary. So, if someone tells you “beware the Ides of March,” they’re probably just being a jerk or letting you know they’ve read Shakespeare.
St. Patrick’s Day on March 17 highlights the birthdays of the month when the Irish and wanna-be Irish celebrate the “wearing of the green” with parades and blarney that announces the death of winter and the coming birth of spring. Rejoice on the 19th, too, in the swallows’ return to the old mission of San Juan, another sign that the Spring Equinox is close at hand on March 20 when the sun is directly over the equator. At this time, many animals end hibernation and begin to be seen.
Finally, Easter Sunday occurs on March 27 followed by “Gorge Yourself on Discount Easter Candy Monday.”
All of the above names refer to the same animal commonly called a groundhog, a rodent belonging to a subgroup of ground squirrels referred to as marmots. The groundhog is one of 14 species of marmots and is the largest member of the squirrel family. It’s characterized as a ground squirrel that can climb trees, swim, borrow and gnaw.
As we know, Groundhog Day annually falls on February 2 in the United States and is a popular American culture centering on the idea of the groundhog coming out of its home to “predict” the weather. Tradition has it if the groundhog sees its shadow it will be frightened and will return to its burrow, indicating there will be six more weeks of winter. If it does not see its shadow, then spring is on the way. Who came up with this weird custom?
According to timeanddate.com, thousands of years ago when animalism and nature worship were prevalent, people in the area of Europe now known as Germany believed the badger had the power to predict the coming of spring. They watched the badger to know when to plant their crops. By the time the first German immigrants settled in Pennsylvania they probably understood this was not true, but the tradition continued. Unfortunately for the privacy-seeking groundhog, there were not many badgers in Pennsylvania so the groundhog was substituted for the badger. The official groundhog, Punxsutawney Phil, lives at Gobbler’s Knob near Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Punxsutawney held its first Groundhog Day in the 1800s. The town has attracted thousands of visitors over the years to experience various Groundhog Day events and activities. It’s said Punxsutawney Phil was named after King Phillip.
Many weather researchers question the groundhog’s accuracy in predicting the weather. In fact, analysis by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration showed that, from 1988 to 2010, there was no correlation between the groundhog’s prediction and the weather for the rest of the season.
Linda Lombardi, a former zookeeper, college professor and author of Animals Behaving Badly, says the groundhog isn’t the only animal who makes a prediction about the weather. The woollybear caterpillar is striped brown and black, and, according to folklore, if the brown stripe is thick, winter will be severe; if it’s thin, the season will be mild. Insect experts disagree and say the variation in the brown bands has nothing to do with the weather — they’re just bigger on older caterpillars. But that doesn’t bother the more than 100,000 people who attend the Woollybear Festival in Vermillion, Ohio, each fall to enjoy entertainment that includes caterpillar races.
Cultures all over the world believe animals can tell when tremors are coming. These tales go as far back as 373 B.C., when it’s said all animals — rats, snakes, and even worms and beetles — left the Greek city of Helice five days before it was destroyed by a quake. In Japan, there’s a tradition claiming catfish can predict the shaking of the earth.
But what about something really important to people: like sports? Paul, an octopus who lived at a German aquarium, correctly predicted the winner of eight athletic games, including the champs of the 2010 World Cup. He flagged his choice by selecting a mussel from one of two boxes decorated with the flags of the competing countries. Although he gained worldwide fame, some fans who didn’t particularly care for his choices threatened to fry him up and serve him with sauce.
And a sheep in New Zealand named Sonny Wool correctly predicted the winner of all his home team’s matches in the 2011 Rugby World Cup. Like Paul, Sonny found being a psychic animal is a dangerous occupation — he reportedly was under 24-hour protection after receiving death threats over an incorrect prediction of a win for Ireland.
The psychic animal enterprise also has expanded to include politics. In 2010, a crocodile named Harry weighed in on the closest Australian election for prime minister in years. By choosing a chicken carcass decorated with a photo of the Labor Party’s Julia Gillard, instead of one plastered with an image of her opponent, Harry correctly predicted Gillard’s victory.
Finally, if you’re wondering how the stock market is going to do, maybe you should turn to an animal. In a contest in South Korea, a parrot proved to be better than most humans at picking the stocks that would perform successfully. Her return on investment was 13.7 percent — better than all but two of the 10 human participants, who averaged a 4.6 percent loss.
Unlike previous resolutions over many, many years, it cannot be broken. I don’t have to worry about getting enough exercise, eating healthier, losing weight, getting more sleep, being friendlier, exhibiting more patience and self-control, becoming less critical, holding my temper, watching my language, being more charitable, driving more carefully, watching TV less – and all those other answers, decisions, declarations, decrees, determinations, doggedness, ends, motions, oaths, outcomes, pledges, promises, purposes, resolves, rulings, solutions, steadfastness, tenacities, upshots and vows that year after year went into making resolutions for the New Year. Usually, most resolutions were broken before kickoff of the first bowl game on January 1.
Previously, I’ve striven faithfully to keep my New Year’s resolutions only to be depressed and disappointed soon after the midnight confetti hit the floor since once again I had just broken a resolve I so fervently vowed to keep this time around. And it’s discouraging to begin again knowing that deep down inside you have an exposed weakness for breaking a particular pledge since you just broke it. Sound familiar?
One may even go the extra mile of writing down their New Year’s resolutions, posting them on a bulletin board, the refrigerator, a calendar, a mirror, in the memo section of a phone or computer and worse yet – telling a parent, spouse, sibling, friend, neighbor or work associate of what we intend to do or not do in the coming year. Not only does your conscience bother you when you mess up, but now there’s another human being around to remind you, “Hey, you screwed up! Wasn’t what you just did a New Year’s resolution you told me you weren’t going to do anymore?” If you have to relate aloud the resolutions you intend to keep, you’d be much better off telling them to your dog or cat. They won’t judge you when you mess up. Well, maybe your cat will sneer at you.
Probably by now you’ve discovered my secret regarding keeping New Year’s resolutions. First of all, you only make one resolution! And that resolution is: “I resolve to make no New Year’s resolutions!” Period. Amen. That’s it. Problem solved! You don’t have to worry about breaking the resolution as long as you don’t make any additional resolutions.
If you want, go ahead and be the better person you’d like to be for the New Year, practicing all those things above or others you vowed you would do or not do in previous years. And if you forget or make a mistake, so what. Simply begin again without the disappointment and guilty conscience of breaking a resolution.
Some of our favorite remembrances involve our less than enthusiastic young children — and me — playing Christmas carols for grandparents on Christmas Eve. The instrumentation was a little weird: two trumpets, jingle bells, drums and flute. Our three boys eventually stopped studying music, which left our daughter the solo task of playing carols on the piano annually while her brothers snickered between their parent’s threatening glances. Our children also read holiday poems and glowing tributes written especially for each adult.
We’ll never forget that Christmas morning when a surprise guinea pig escaped from his ventilated gift box and climbed the Christmas tree to flee from the dog and cat in hot pursuit through the remaining presents. And we took movies the year our children tried out new roller skates on the snowy driveway filming each of them outdo a sibling with spectacular Olympic-like slips and falls.
There is one year that was different from all the rest and it stands out in my mind. I call it “The Ghost of Christmas Past.” It has no connection to the fictional character in A Christmas Carol by English novelist Charles Dickens whose angelic vision is the first of three spirits to haunt Ebenezer Scrooge. Our ghost didn’t carry as much character building qualities as Dickens’ apparition who shows Scrooge scenes from his past around Christmas to demonstrate the necessity of changing his ways. Our ghoul was not as commendable.
The year was 1984. In June, a supernatural comedy film premiered written by Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis. It was called Ghostbusters. The film stared Bill Murray, Aykroyd and Ramis as eccentric, former professors who set up a paranormal ghost removal shop in New York City. Sigourney Weaver and Rick Moranis co-stared as a client and her neighbor.
Ghostbusters received a positive response from critics and theater audiences, and was nominated for two Oscars for Best Visual Effects and Best Original Song. The clever theme, titled “Ghostbusters,” was written and performed by Ray Parker, Jr., which sparked the catchphrase “Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters!”
When the movie became a smash, HBO reportedly had an exclusive deal with Columbia Pictures for broadcast rights. If my memory serves me correctly, Ghostbusters first showing on television was Christmas Eve 1984.
Our kids all were teenagers at the time, ranging in ages 17, 16, 15 and 13. They went ballistic since they missed the movie in the theaters and said they had to see it on Christmas Eve after our traditional guests left. I remember bribing them that I would record the movie and we would watch it together after we all attended Midnight Mass! (Actually, “Midnight Mass” was celebrated at St. Therese Church before midnight at about 10:30 p.m.)
When we got home from church our teenagers couldn’t wait to get into their pajamas and play the movie. I reluctantly put the strains of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” in the back of my mind as the Ghostbusters’ theme began.
You know what? My wife, Marty, and I actually enjoyed ourselves. It wasn’t our traditional Christmas Eve custom of sitting by the shimmering tree, sipping hot chocolate and Scotch, while our children were in their beds enjoying visions of who-knows-what dancing in their heads.
After Ghostbusters ended we all were too keyed up to go to bed so we started playing music. Actually, we began sharing music. Marty and I played a couple of hits from the 1950s and ‘60s and then our teens chose some of their favorite selections from the 1970s and early ‘80s. We also told stories of what we were doing when a particular song was popular and shared details about our respective generations.
It was well into Christmas morning when the last of us finally crashed into bed. But the whole experience – from watching Ghostbusters and sharing our music – brought us all closer together.
For a couple of years, we tried duplicating that music-sharing event but it never worked out like it did in 1984. We finally gave up the ghost, so to speak, and entrusted the experience to our bank of special Christmas memories.
Since his wife of 70 years recently passed away, it was necessary for him to move into a nursing home. After several hours of waiting patiently in the lobby, he smiled sweetly when told his room was ready.
As he maneuvered his walker to the elevator, a caregiver provided a visual description of his tiny room, including the eyelet curtains that had been hung on his window.
“I love it,” he exclaimed with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old just given a new puppy.
“But Mr. Jones, you haven’t even been to the room yet,” said the caregiver.
“That doesn’t have anything to do with it,” he replied. “Happiness is something you decide ahead of time. Whether I like my room or not doesn’t depend on how the furniture is arranged. It’s how I arrange my mind. I’ve already decided to love it!”
“It’s a decision I make every morning when I wake up,” Mr. Jones continued. “I have a choice: I can spend the day in bed recounting the difficulties I have with parts of my body that no longer work, or get out of bed and be thankful for the ones that do.”
“Each day is a gift, and as long as the ‘eyes of my mind’ are open, I’ll focus on the new day and all the happy memories I’ve stored away just for this time of my life. Old age is like a bank account. You withdraw from it what you’ve put into it. My advice is to deposit a lot of happiness in your bank account of memories. Thank you for your part in filling my memory bank. I am still making deposits,” Mr. Jones told the tear-filled caregiver.
The caregiver wrote down the five simple rules for happiness he related to her:
1. Free your heart from hatred
2. Free your mind from worries
3. Live simply
4. Give more
5. Expect less
The above story reminds me of my cousin, Carl. Also, a widower and a WWII veteran, he lived with Marty and me the last couple years of his life. He died at age 93 in 1999.
Carl was such a positive person…telling stories about the wonderful people he knew. And we never heard him say an unkind word about anyone.
Toward the end of his life, several times he had to be admitted to a hospital or nursing home for extended care. We knew he didn’t like it and neither did we even though we all realized it was necessary. Carl didn’t complain much, but we knew he was uncomfortable checking into the unfamiliar, sterile surroundings of a medical facility with a stranger in the bed next to his. But the next day when we came to visit, inquiring at the desk on his floor how he was doing, the responses to his name never failed to amaze us.
“Oh, you mean that sweet man! He’s such a delight. And guess what? He knew my parents…or aunt…or former neighbor,” …and so on.
In those few hours confined to his bed, Carl got to know the people around him. He asked their names, where they lived, who their parents were, where they attended school and church, who they knew that he knew. Usually, he made a connection somewhere, and we all loved him for it.
Whether it’s a game or an argument, our culture values only winning.
“It’s not whether you win or lose, it’s how you play the game,” said Grantland Rice, a sportswriter for the New York Herald-Tribune, in a 1923 poem, “Alumnus Football.”
As long as we win, Rice’s win-or-lose motto works just fine. But to anyone who ever really has competed in anything, that aphorism is as hollow as a jack-o-lantern. Defeat is among the most painful of life’s afflictions. Some will go to great lengths to never lose, so great is their need to be winners – or perhaps, not to be losers. Jimmy Connors, the “brat” of professional tennis, said, “I hate to lose more than I love to win.”
Babe Ruth was a winner! He was called the greatest slugger in baseball because of the 714 regular-season home runs he hit, but he also struck out more than 1,000 times!
Dan Marino, one of the greatest quarterbacks ever to pick-up a football, never won a championship. In peewee, high school, college and professional football – The National Football League’s “Most Prolific Passer” – never won at all! How is it possible that Marino retired without a Super Bowl ring? Consider this: Had you not read it here, would you have known or remembered that Marino came up “empty handed,” so to speak?
And speaking of the Super Bowl that happened on Sunday, February 5 at NRG Stadium in Houston, again there was a winner and a loser. But let me ask: who won the Super Bowl last year, or the year before that, so forth and so on?
We’ve all experienced the heartbreak of losing when our favorite team comes up short on the scoreboard.
But someone has to lose! No one wants to settle for a tie score.
Today or tomorrow, in some way, large or small, you will lose! As you experience this “heartbreak,” think about Roy Riegels. On January 1, 1929, the California Golden Bears faced the Georgia Tech Yellow Jackets at the Rose Bowl. Riegels picked up a fumble and ran 69 yards in the wrong direction. He was tackled back to the 1-yard line. And when his Golden Bears’ team chose to punt, Tech blocked the punt for a safety. Tech ultimately won the game and their second national championship 8–7. But it was Tech’s safety score after the wrong-way run that made the difference in the outcome of the game.
Years later, Riegels said his blunder made him a better person. “I gained true understanding of life from my Rose Bowl mistake,” he said. “I learned you can bounce back from misfortune and view it as just something adverse that happened to you.” In 1991, Riegels was inducted into the Rose Bowl Hall of Fame. And, he was posthumously elected to Cal’s Hall of Fame in 1998. In 2003, a panel from the College Football Hall of Fame and CBS Sports chose Riegels’ “Wrong way run in the Rose Bowl” one of six “Most Memorable Moments of the Century.”
Were he not a “loser,” he would not be so famous!
It seems we experience rudeness a hundred times a day and often may be guilty of it ourselves. Something happens to many people when they get behind the wheel of their vehicle. Both men and women often take on an aggressive, angry persona leaving common courtesy curbside. Nearly everyone is in a hurry, so there’s little politeness as drivers tailgate, switch lanes, cut in front of others, race to the next traffic light and fail to signal their intentions to turn or stop.
We’re not much better on foot as we push ahead of people lined up at a checkout counter or shove our way through a crowd to gain access to an event. We don’t greet one another or even look at each other as we wait in a doctor’s office, for example, ride together in an elevator, on a bus or in an airplane. Many of us seem to be caught up in our own thoughts, absorbed in listening to music on a headset or talking on or “playing with” a cell phone or tablet.
Speaking of the phone, it seems to be the epitome of rudeness for many people. You’re talking with someone on the phone when you hear them say the familiar phrase, “Hold on, I’ve got another call.” Even when you’re speaking in person with someone or engaged in a common interest, how often does it happen when their phone rings and they say, “I’ve got to take this?”
Recently, I heard that a major university was requiring their seniors to take a manners course because the highly-regarded academic institution did not want to be embarrassed when their graduates went out into the world not knowing how to practice common courtesies.
Somewhere, somehow we’ve lost not only the skills but the desire to have respect for and consideration of others. As a society, we lack the graces and refinements of civilized life and border on being uncouth. Many Americans dress like slobs and often behave the way they look.
The world’s low opinion of the United States is based in part on individual encounters with some “ugly Americans.”
Affected by another’s rudeness, we must learn to be patient, not quick-tempered; not brood over injuries. We all must strive to be kind, polite and not just seek our own interests. If we do all within our power to always, literally, put the other person ahead of ourselves, rudeness and hurt will disappear leaving the devil to walk alone!
Baxter was a two-year-old male turned into the shelter by its owner because he reportedly was suffering from separation anxiety, a condition in many dogs resulting in destructive or otherwise inappropriate behavior when an owner leaves the pet or is not in close proximity to it. However, these behaviors also may be due to other conditions or environmental issues. Therefore, before attributing Baxter’s behavior problems solely to separation anxiety, the shelter asked my wife to take him home for a weekend of foster care to determine how severe his problems were. He was about the first of some 140 dogs and cats we have fostered over the years, hopefully, prior to their adoption to a permanent home.
Marty described Baxter as “a mixed ball of fluff.” He seemed to get along okay with us and with our own dog, Toby, who also was an adopted shelter dog with many similar issues. So, upon his return to the shelter, Baxter was again put up for adoption with a warning that he had exhibited symptoms of separation anxiety in the past.
Despite the cautionary notice, however, a young, single man, who worked eight hours a day away from home, chose to adopt Baxter and keep him confined to a crate when he was gone. But Baxter managed to “walk” the crate around the man’s apartment and do more than $500 worth of damage, such as shredding drapery, chewing on the couch and so forth.
Again, Baxter was put up for adoption but with a stern warning about his problem and his need for almost constant attention. At about that same time, a mother and her son came to the shelter looking for a “pet for life,” as she put it, “for her young son.” Marty took the pair along with Baxter to an interaction room to see how they would relate together. That’s when Baxter jumped into the little boy’s lap, skootched around until he was comfortable and stayed there. And what was so remarkable about it, Marty said, was that the young boy was in a wheelchair and most animals are afraid of them.
“That puppy never will be alone again in his life and neither will my son,” the mother promised as she signed adoption papers for the third time in Baxter’s short life.
“Sometimes the story turns out even better than one ever could imagine,” Marty concluded.