Sunday, December 29, 2013

NYC Mayor Bloomberg Leaving Office - 12 Years a Stave

First appeared on Blogcritics.

bloom 2 abcnewsThere are two ways to look at Mayor Michael Bloomberg’s twelve years in office. One is with the rose-colored glasses of those who think of him as our own version of France's Louis XIV; the other is with the clarity of everyday New Yorkers who are well acquainted with his record. I consider myself the latter, but the former constitutes a significant number of supporters who saw this "Sun King" as a stave, a rung on the ladder to wealth and success, if not comparable to his own exorbitant heights, at least in a stratosphere above the plebian crowd. Based on their view of things, Bloomberg was a very good stave indeed.


Of course, when Bloomberg took office, this city was in shambles. There was the physical wreckage of the 9-11 attacks, undeniably and irrevocably changing the city landscape and emotional psyche. Bloomberg walked into that shattered cityscape with great challenges, and followed in the footsteps of Rudy Giuliani, who due to his leadership during and after the 9-11 attacks, became suddenly proclaimed “America’s Mayor.” It goes without saying he had big shoes to fill, but little did we know that he had a pair of feet the size of Herman Munster's, bloated by an incredible sense of self-importance.


When he took office I recall Bloomberg saying that he was going to rebuild New York, which was a given, but he also promised to make the city “The capital of the free world.” Considering we just got walloped by 9-11, crushing our spirits as well as knocking down two of our city’s most iconic landmarks, this was either a bold case of hubris or someone as determined as Joe Namath heading into the Super Bowl facing almost certain annihilation at the hands of the Baltimore Colts.


His supporters will talk the talk all day long about his accomplishments – more buildings being built, One World Trade Center rising from the ashes of Ground Zero, a lower crime rate, more tourists than ever (just try walking down the street without bumping into someone with a map), film crews seemingly everywhere, and even a budget surplus that probably will be forever unthinkable for the federal government. All these things sound wonderful, but they came at an extraordinarily high price – one that only the exceeding wealthy were willing and able to bankroll to get Bloomberg's vision realized.


Let’s look at the other Bloomberg, who can be compared to the bad Captain Kirk from a parallel time in the Star Trek episode “Mirror, Mirror.” This is the Bloomberg who thought he could take his own personal agenda and make it your own. The most notable fiasco was the “stop-and-frisk” police policy that was obviously unconstitutional even before being declared so. This one thing alone tarnishes his legacy because it not only violated people’s rights (notably blacks and Hispanics who were the most frequent targets of the practice) but it also alienated people the policy supposedly was meant to protect.


Besides that debacle, there seemed to be a growing gap between the haves and have-nots on his watch. This includes the homeless, those who can barely make ends meet (read everyone from the middle class and lower), those who find prices too high and rewards too minimal. As a friend of mine visiting from Nevada asked, “How can any regular folks afford to live here?” We could ask our rich beyond Richie Rich mayor, but I doubt he cares much about constituents who are not part of his core group of 1% supporters.


bloom 1 village voice That is why Bloomberg has so alienated “average” New Yorkers. He has also taken every opportunity to undermine teachers and attack their union. He closed an unprecedented number of public schools to open smaller charter schools – with teachers being paid less, with less benefits, and basically no job security. He orchestrated the ridiculous soda pop ban of big cups (like a customer couldn’t just buy two smaller ones to get the same volume), only to be shot down by a court. He achieved getting “calorie count menus” in restaurants, is probably single-handedly responsible for those hordes of smokers cluttering city sidewalks because they cannot smoke in buildings or restaurants or bars, and hired a school's chancellor with zero education experience.


Again and again, he proved to be the “nanny” mayor, telling people what to do because it was “good” for them. Like an old grandma trying to shove castor oil down your throat, Bloomberg felt he knew what was better for you and he wanted to make sure, just like Big Brother in George Orwell’s 1984, to keep an eye on you. Think of the all the traffic cameras installed, and in general all the security cameras in Midtown especially, and you can just imagine how we are all like the targets of that person Sting once sang about – “Every breath you take, every move you make, I’ll be watching you.”


bloom 3 wikipediaThe election of Bill de Blasio is welcome news for most New Yorkers. The people spoke and the landslide results prove that we New Yorkers want someone who can relate to us. Mr. de Blasio and his family ( his wife is black and children biracial) reflects a city that is diverse, and his common touch, his desire to hear everyday people, and willingness to undo many of Bloomberg’s unreasonable practices are welcome news for a city that after 12 years has had more than enough of being governed by a Louis XIV type, whose mantra “Apres moi, le deluge” more than accurately foreshadowed the fate of the French monarchy.


Fortunately, Mr. de Blasio comes in at a time when we need him most. It’s about time New York City had a mayor who cares and is more interested in the people on the city’s streets rather than those in its ivory towers. As Bloomberg departs, we can only say “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry.” I’m sure we haven’t heard the last of him, but at least he can be a windbag on his own dime now.


Yes, Mr. de Blasio inherits a healthier and more robust city than Bloomberg did, but he also gets all the detritus of Bloomberg’s policies. We can believe that he will be breaking out the broom and pan and getting to it on day one. That is the kind of mayor we not only want now but desperately need in the “capital of the free world.” Thankfully, under de Blasio, it actually will be a “free” place to live again.


Photo credits: soda jerk-village voice; nanny-abcnews.com; de blasio family-wikipedia

Thursday, December 26, 2013

Santa and the Baby Jesus – Does the Jolly Old Elf Ruin the True Meaning of Christmas?

First appeared on Blogcritics.

santa jesus reapteam.org Okay, Christmas is over – to the relief of parents and guardians everywhere. That is unless you are standing on long lines making returns today, then I am with you thankfully only in spirit. The holiday week is still upon us and, as the song reminds everyone, moms and dads can’t wait for school to start again. In the meantime, presents vie for space in living rooms and all over the rest of the house, and my recycling bin’s cup runneth over.


 In the meantime, I am still hearing something that I encounter annually – the debate over whether Santa Claus ruins the spirit of Christmas. Because of the juggernaut combination of shopping, trying to get the kids to “visit” Santa in the mall, and preparing for entertaining friends and loved ones, the story of Baby Jesus being born in Bethlehem over 2,000 years ago does seem to be placed on the back burner.


However, we have no one to blame in this matter except ourselves. If you are Christians (in my case Catholic), you have to make sure that your children know both stories, and that there is in fact a connection between Santa Claus and Jesus – an intimate one that actually makes sense to kids if you explain it to them. In my house during the time known as Advent (the four weeks preceding Christmas), we go about preparing for Jesus.


Each Sunday we light another candle on our Advent Wreath, and we talk about Christmas as being the birthday of a little baby in Bethlehem so long ago. My children come to understand that we are still celebrating that birthday to this day. I also explain that because the Baby Jesus received the first Christmas gifts – from the Three Kings/Wise Men/Magi – someone named St. Nicholas became inspired to do something similar.


stnick-stnicholas.org My kids do go to Catholic school; therefore, they are getting the same story twice at home and in the classroom. In my house we reinforce the idea by quietly celebrating St. Nicholas Day (December 6), and talking about how St. Nicholas lived in what is now known as Turkey a long time ago. They learn that St. Nicholas showed love for poor people, especially children, by leaving small bags of gold at their houses.


After his time in Turkey, stories can diverge depending on parents' personal preferences. My father always said that Nicholas decided that he had to work from a place where he could reach more people, so he started a journey north in a wagon with two horses to get to the top of the world. When Nicholas got to Scandinavia and encountered snow, his horses could not pull the wagon, so he sold them to a family for reindeer and a sleigh. This family had a lovely young daughter, with whom Nicholas fell in love. She, of Claus – I mean of course, became his bride and eventually would be known as Mrs. Claus.


The story can go on and on, but eventually he settles in the North Pole, builds a workshop, and hires the local magical little people – who become his elves. An alternate story is that the elves are the children of Nicholas and his wife. Decide on telling the kids whatever sounds better to you.


When he gets the name Santa Claus – shortened version of Saint Nicholas – and starts getting plump from cookies is usually what my kids like to hear most. He decides on bringing toys to all the children of the world on one night, and he chooses Christmas Eve not to overwhelm Baby Jesus on his birthday but to honor him. This is connected to the first Christmas and the gifts of the men from the east, and Santa is blessed with immortality because he serves the Lord as he goes about his annual routine. All of this is great story telling, but I also use the handy “Yes Virginia, There Is a Santa Claus” that is printed every year in the New York Daily News to remind them that, even though they may hear Santa is not real from their friends, there is a higher authority to confirm his identity.


santa 2 -correctionhistory.orgThis year my son has been so involved and in love with the Santa story, but he is equally engaged in the Baby Jesus one too. He has a small Fisher Price manger set that he plays with as much as his Santa set. He also got to play a donkey in the school Christmas play, so we are still hearing his only line of dialogue “hee-haw; hee-haw!” from time to time. When we are on the street or in the mall and he sees the "Santa" ringing a bell or talking to children, he asks, "That's not the real one, right, Dad?" I always respond, "No, but he is a helper."

The bottom line is that it is adults who allow Santa to overtake the holiday, and there is no need for that. Baby Jesus is not only the reason for the season, but he is the motivation behind everything the jolly old elf does. When we realize that and make sure to share it with our children, Christmas can be meaningful spiritually even as the kids listen for those sleigh bells with anticipation.


 photo credits: santa & jesus-reapteam.org; st.nicholas-stnicholas.org; sidewalk santa-crrectionhistory.org

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

On First Christmas Without Dad - Remembering the Importance of Bing Crosby's "White Christmas"

First appeared on Blogcritics.


white 1It’s one of the best-selling singles of all time, and Bing Crosby’s version of “White Christmas” is still an iconic slice of American holiday pie. Written by Russian Jewish immigrant Irving Berlin, it perfectly captures a time and place in the history of the U.S., and by default, of the world.


On this first Christmas without my father, I miss him terribly but each time I hear “White Christmas” I think of him and his stories of hearing that song during World War II. Having been introduced in 1941, it came at the right time for lonely soldiers as Bing sang the song on radio for the first time that Christmas Day. We have heard of the shot heard round the world, well this was the tune that spanned the globe.


My father spent too many Christmases away from home during that war, but he recalled Christmas 1944 when it still seemed that there was no certain victory for the Americans. Bunkered down in a French town near enemy lines, my father could hear the bombs going off that Christmas Eve just a mile or so away. He and a few of his men (Dad was a sergeant) decided to take advantage of a bottle of cognac they had found in the basement of the house where they were spending the night.


Drinking the delicious drink out of their mess cups, the fellows had a small radio and listened to Christmas songs. As the music played each one shared a story about home, and my father could picture his house, parents, and dogs sitting around the Christmas tree. Dad said when old Bing came on and sang his now famous song, none of these big burly fellows had a dry eye.


When my father and one of his men when outside to relieve the sentry, it was cold and snowing. They noticed a dark figure coming towards them in the woods, and all three raised their rifles. The fellow collapsed as he approached, and Dad and the others discovered that he was a wounded German soldier. They brought him inside where a medic tended to his wounds.


The bombs continued to go off in the distance, and a little after midnight Bing’s song came on the radio again. The wounded enemy soldier glanced up at Dad and smiled saying, “Der Bingle.” My father offered him a mess cup with cognac in it, and said, “Merry Christmas.”


white 2Years later Dad recalled that story wistfully. That German soldier survived and was moved to a field hospital the next day. Dad always remembered that Christmas Eve, and he spoke of the appeal of “White Christmas,” noting that even the Germans liked the tune. There are no doubt many similar stories, but this was Dad’s and he liked to tell it.

 He always noted that “White Christmas” was not just any song. Every time a soldier heard it, no matter where he was stationed, it brought a memory of someone or someplace he loved. Dad noted that soldiers always tried to put up a tree, even near a battlefield. They all weren’t sure if they would ever see home again, but they resiliently celebrated despite the war around them, and the poignancy of the lyrics and Bing’s crooning got to them every time they heard it.


bingWith Dad gone now, I feel a connection to “White Christmas” that is very personal. When I listen to it sometime on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, I will raise a glass of cheer and toast my father. I will not just be toasting him but all those of America’s greatest generation. They fought a most pernicious foe and, if they had failed, the world as we know it wouldn’t exist.


 All these years later “White Christmas” has an evanescent ability to touch us across time, and we think of the "snow" as being a metaphor for peace and love, which is what Christmas Day means to many of us; however, we don’t need snow for the song to have its magical affect. So raise a glass, toast someone you love, and this Christmas will be “just like the ones I used to know.” Now if we could just hear those sleigh bells!


  Photo credits: life magazine; hrworld.blogspot.com, bing-rockonvinyl.blogspot.com

Monday, December 23, 2013

In Defense of “Happy Holidays”

First appeared on Blogcritics.

holi 1I don’t know if people are more thin-skinned these days, but apparently they are judging by the reaction to minutiae such Miley Cyrus’s behavior, Alec Baldwin’s anger at the paparazzi, and this guy from Duck Dynasty (I knew nothing about him or his show until this whole thing erupted). Throw in Geraldo Rivera, Kim Kardashian, Amanda Bynes, and a partridge in a pear tree, and you have a whole Christmas stocking filled with stuff to keep you ranting all day.


 If you have the time and inclination, so be it; but, as John Lennon wrote in his beautiful song, “And so it is Christmas, and what have you done?” If you want it to be that you spent the year worrying about things such as described above, good luck to you.


Three people in my family passed away this year, and there are wars and terrorism and the threat of natural disasters to think about. There’s the economy and the so-called Obama-care (both looking better lately, thankfully), and there are people in need of food and drink all over the world. How you choose to view that world outside your window is, of course, up to you.


Which gets me to this nearly insane argument over whether or not to say “Happy Holidays.” You may have heard recent stories such as the one where a woman was assaulted for not saying “Merry Christmas.” Then there was one about the woman who got fired because she refused to say “Happy Holidays.” Believe it or not there are too many of these tales to even keep track of at this point.


The problem is that you have incendiary guys like FOX News talking heads Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reilly banging the drum about not saying “Merry Christmas,” and this gets all the worst elements in human nature riled up even more. While real news is out there and needs to be reported, they are wasting their air time complaining about something that seems to be inconsequential at best, but since it has become an issue gaining attention it needs to be addressed.


I only overheard a confrontation in my local Starbucks yesterday that boggled my mind. The barista handed a guy his tall Pike and added, “Happy Holidays!” The guy snapped back, “I prefer Merry Christmas, pal!” He then walked over to his friends and started ranting. “We have to stand our ground and take it back. They need to say ‘Merry Christmas’ or else.”


Now, I started thinking this guy was going to get violent, but instead he stormed out the door followed by his posse of disgruntled reindeer. I got my grande cappuccino and, since I frequent the place, gave the barista a tip and said, “Happy Holidays.” He smiled and said, “To you too.”


I walked out into the beautiful morning shaking my head. I am a Christian and have absolutely no idea why “Happy Holidays” offends anyone. I use it myself when I am in situations in which I have no idea of the person’s religious orientation (which is 90% of the time). “Happy Holidays” covers everything from Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day, and it is said not to insult people but rather to honor their individuality and respect the dignity of their respective faith.


When I think about it, I use “Merry Christmas” in situations where I am certain that I am in the company of fellow Christians. Obviously, leaving Mass and coming out of the church, I would be saying it. Picking up my kids from school (Catholic), I would wish the teachers and other parents it. But in a place like Starbucks, or in the post office, or the department store, it would be inappropriate for me to wish the other person “Merry Christmas” and therefore I use “Happy Holidays.”


Still it has become a bigger issue, a sort of us verses them mentality, and I just don’t get it. Why does anyone believe that he or she has the right to impose a way of thinking or beliefs on others? Yes, I know that in the long history of atrocities committed in the name of various faiths that terrible things happened in the name of gods. We cannot ignore that, but we can recognize that now, in 2013, we should know better and be better than this.


I use “Merry Christmas” with family and friends and enjoy doing so; however, I use “Happy Holidays” in almost every other arena. I don’t find it offensive, and I really cannot fathom why anyone else does, but people are entitled to their opinions. The thing is when we start to make our opinions an imposition on others, or we threaten them in some way, we are in no way in the spirit of anything resembling a “holiday” spirit. These people become Christmas bullies, and that has nothing to do with the child born in Bethlehem or even that jolly old elf in the red suit.


holi 2So, whether you celebrate Christmas, Kwanza, Winter Solstice, Malkha, Chalica, Pancha Ganapti, Festivus, or nothing at all, I wish you peace, love, and happiness this season. I hope everyone will do the same and then the season will indeed be bright.


  Photo credits: hdwallpapersinn.com, imgion.com

Sunday, December 22, 2013

The Elf on the Shelf Has Me Talking to Myself

First appeared on Blogcritics.

elf 2 Okay, I will sound about as Christmas-spirited as Ebenezer Scrooge collecting a mortgage from a poor little old lady, but I have about had it with the Elf on the Shelf. I go around the house mumbling to myself, and I have actually contemplated the Elf’s demise in various forms of torture that would have provided me with great joy.


I thought about saying, “Oops, I dropped it in the garbage disposal” or “I don’t know how his legs got caught in the shredder.” But these little ploys seemed too disingenuous, and no doubt my kids would see through them quickly. Then I thought, “Hey, you’re a writer; think like one.” I have written a story or two about the perfect murder, but then I remembered those guys got caught in the end, so that was no good either.


Then I started thinking about the “Elf Rules.” Those of you without children are no doubt blissfully unaware of the Elf or that he is accompanied by rules of engagement as it were. These rules are in themselves designed to thrill kids and be every parent’s worst nightmare. They are as follows (which you can find, if you so desire, on the little pest’s web site):



“There are two simple rules that every child knows when it comes to having an elf. First, an elf cannot be touched; Christmas magic is very fragile and if an elf is touched it may lose that magic and be unable to fly back to the North Pole. Second, an elf cannot speak or move while anyone in the house is awake! An elf's job is to watch and listen.”


elf 3So each night the kiddies go to bed and I must devise a new hiding place for Sir Elf. “Oh, that sounds easy” you are probably saying or “What’s so hard about that?” Well, try being the designated Elf hider and say, around three o’clock in the morning, you wake up and realize you forgot to hide the damn thing.


I can count at least six nights in December that this happened to me. Picture me flashlight in hand trying to think of a new hiding place in the dark. Stubbing toes and stepping on Legos are part of the punishment derived from my forgetfulness, not to mention not being able to get back to sleep afterwards. Of course, even gentle Bob Cratchit would be saying “Bah, Humbug!” by now.



That does not mean to say that I haven’t devised some good hiding places: the curtains, the refrigerator, the freezer (his cheeks change color in there overnight), the pantry, medicine cabinet, showerhead, and on top of a ceiling fan blade. I do start running out of ideas, and the refrain of “Dad, that was too easy” only makes me want to get rid of him more.



I looked at the rules again and thought, “Maybe I can make them work in my favor.” I devised a plan in which  I could use rule one (an Elf cannot be touched) to my advantage. If one of the kids could be made to touch it, the little bugger would lose his magic and that would mean he couldn’t hide himself anymore. I would be free of the nightly ordeal, finally free of the Elf that is a pain in my posterior.


The next morning my five year old woke with the Elf in bed next to him on the pillow. I hoped to see him running out of the room clutching the Elf, and then I would lower the boom saying, “You touched him! He lost his magic! Etcetera, etcetera!” in my worst Yul Brynner impersonation ever.


But, alas, my son is a quick thinker. He screamed, “Dad! Dad, come quick!” I went into his room and he was sitting on his knees on the bed pointing to the Elf. “Look what’s here!”


“Did you touch it?” I asked. He put his hands on his hips and looked at me like my mother used to do when I did something wrong. He said, “Are you serious? You can’t touch the Elf!”



elf 1I slinked out of the room and down the stairs in defeat. He went off to school and I sat drinking a cup of coffee and staring at the Elf’s pixie face. I had to admit that the kids enjoyed the game, and I do know that their smiling faces and laughter each time they found the little pest was probably worth it.


Grudgingly, I hid the little guy again last night. At this moment he is hiding behind a picture frame on the mantel, his little red hat barely visible. They will find it sooner or later as they search the living room this morning. When they do they will scream with delight, and then I will be off the hook until tonight.


There are only a few more days until Christmas, and then, mercifully, the Elf on the Shelf game will be over. The Elf will be put in the dark attic safely out of the way until next year. When I do have to go up there for something throughout the year, sometimes I can swear I hear a little squeal of the little guy laughing at me, but it’s probably just my imagination.


Photo credits: theelfontheshelf.com

Sunday, December 15, 2013

New York Post Jacoby Ellsbury Headline Offensive

First appeared on Blogcritics.


jacoby post 2The back page headline on the Saturday, December 14, 2013, edition of the New York Post, concerning newly signed New York Yankees centerfielder Jacoby Ellsbury was very offensive. Soon as I saw the photo of Ellsbury shaking hands with Yankees’ skipper Joe Girardi with the words ‘Bury the Hatchet blasting across the page, I felt great disdain for the newspaper and its pathetic attempt at humor.


I have loathed the New York Post for a long time, dating back to the despicable front page photograph of John Lennon’s body in the morgue after his murder. Ever since then I have held the newspaper in contempt, thinking it lacked any journalistic integrity that subsequent photographs and headlines (just like this one) only continue to confirm.


jacoby postSo what is my big problem with this headline? Jacoby Ellsbury identifies as Native American - his mother is Navajo. He is the first Major League Baseball player of Navajo descent and only one of three active Native American players (Joba Chamberlain and Kyle Lohse) in MLB. I know first hand from family members who live in Oregon, have met Ellsbury, and watched his rise to stardom that there is great pride in his accomplishments in the Native American community.


This headline is a crude attempt at some warped sense of humor that does nothing but prove beyond a shadow of the doubt that the New York Post is nothing more than a glorified toilet paper. It’s obvious that most of the general public realizes that journalistic integrity is a foreign concept for this paper, a glaring version of the worst humanity has to offer in print.


During the introduction to the media on Friday, Girardi spoke of how happy he was that Ellsbury was now on his team. “You are no longer a thorn in my side.” The only surprising thing is that the Post didn’t depict Ellsbury in stereotypical costume and change the quotation to read “arrow in my side.” You could say, “No one would stoop that low.” Of course, then you wouldn’t know the New York Post.


I believe the newspaper and its chairman Rupert Murdoch owe Ellsbury and the Native American community a sincere and public apology. Judging from the fact that Yoko Ono is still waiting for one, we shouldn’t expect that any time soon. This is just modus operandi for this ongoing excuse for a daily newspaper and the refuse it continues to publish.


Please confine yourselves to picking up copies of the Post from the city’s trash bins and only use it for your bird cages, doggie crates, and on the floor to count paint drippings. Sadly, even those uses are too good a fate for this disgrace to journalism.

  Photo credit: native appropriations.com

Saturday, December 14, 2013

Common Core Wars - The NY State Senate Strikes Back

First appeared on Blogcritics.

testing daily newsA New York State Senate panel, led by Senator John Flanagan (R-L.I.), recently issued a landmark report that could change the playing field in this state regarding standardized testing linked to Common Core State Standards. Not only does the report indicate that “standardized testing should be reduced,” but also that student data must be better protected and standardized testing in grades Pre-K-2 should be completely eliminated.



The report, which used significant input from parents and educators, should rattle the guys up in Albany and in other state education departments across the country. In a galaxy far away and a time not so long ago, teachers were actually able to teach; however, we have entered into a prolonged period of conflict, which I like to call Common Core Wars. At this point there have been those who have tried to remove the yolk of oppression caused by standardized testing that has weighed us down for so long now; however, the evil empire (testing companies, state education departments, and their political lackeys) have long ruled with an iron fist. The “emperor” in this case turns out to be the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, the driving force behind Common Core. Is it any wonder that this thing has become the equivalent of an educational hydra that is nearly impossible to fight against?


No matter how impossible the odds seem, teachers, parents, and students have been putting up the good fight for change for the last two years. When the Common Core State standards were dumped upon us, as some sort of edict from on high, we were thrust into an uncomfortable place where teachers were given a new way to teach without being prepared to do so, testing was linked to the standards, and test grades were made part of end of year evaluations that would determine whether or not teachers would keep their jobs and if students could move on to the next level.


citizenship.aie.orgHere in New York, the “rebel alliance” of teachers, parents, students, and some political leaders fought the good fight, even if it seemed that their weapons of persuasion were no match for the imperial might; however, some cracks started showing in the empire’s armor. Parents demonstrated with their children; teachers did the same, and highly respected and experienced people (Diane Ravitch, Catholic scholars, and writers such as Robert Shepherd and Anthony Cody) came out against the CCSS.


Recently, New York State Commissioner of Education John B. King was almost run out of town on a rail by Long Island parents (two towns actually - Mineola and Melville) after he tried to defend the CCSS and the standardized testing connected to it. They shouted him down and led to him canceling a similar event in Garden City. As chief spokesperson for the evil empire, he found that the people are mad as hell and aren’t about to take it anymore.


In the grand scheme of things, nothing changes as of this moment, but the imperial powers that be are starting to realize the rebels are advancing. With the looming exit of New York city Mayor Michael Bloomberg, one of the key advocates of the CCSS (and teacher evaluations associated with them) is gone. Mayor-elect Bill de Blasio has indicated that he will undo many of the nefarious machinations of Darth Bloomberg, including the rush to close schools and open charters, ignore parental concerns, and minimize the importance of teachers in the educational equation. In short the “rebels” seem to have a friend in Gracie Mansion after twelve years of Bloomberg’s insidious plans.


testing 2 daily newsSlowly it is becoming apparent that there was a misfire with the CCSS. The initial concepts that led to their creation and implementation - that children should learn more deeply and rigorously and be prepared for college - were actually a positive thing. But like all great ideas, there is always some way to warp their trajectory, and this is what has happened here. In New York State, the CCSS were utilized as a means to an end. Why not set up impossible new standards, ill-prepare teachers to use them in the classroom, require that they be linked to standardized tests, and then use those test scores as part of teacher evaluations?


It seems like a pernicious plot from a bad B-movie, but it is the case. It boggles the mind that the evil empire got as far as it did, but there are those in the alliance who refused to back down. We still have a long way to go, but the state senate report is a good sign that things are going to change in Albany. How long will it take for that to reach the classroom? It is hard to say right now, but teachers, parents, and students in New York and all around the nation deserve better. , but we all cannot relax our efforts until we can be certain that the Common Core Wars saga is over once and for all.


 Photo credits: Flanagan and protestors-ny daily news; test-citizenship.aie.org

Sunday, December 8, 2013

The Walking Dead - Midseason Finale: Don’t Look Back!

First appeared on Blogcritics.

dead 5 There have been eight episodes in season 4 of The Walking Dead, and by far this season seems to be more about deconstruction, breaking connections, and setting our dwindling number of core survivors out on their own. With little or nothing left to their disposal, the survivors are in the most precarious situation they ever have been in at this point. Also, they are a scattered flock, and we wonder if Deputy Rick Grimes can once again be the Moses to lead his people to, if not the promised land, at least somewhere that other people live and that will establish some long-term stability.


In this series the most dangerous threat has never been the zombies. Yes, their presence is felt, and they remain a danger, but our survivors are adept at dealing with them by now. Rick, Michonne, Daryl, and company dispatch zombies regularly, so much so that it becomes almost like the guy on an assembly line tightening bolts. This is their daily routine, something they are good at doing, but people like Tyrese and Hershel made it known that it was never easy or something they even wanted to do.


The greatest danger is other humans. At this point people who have survived have grown increasingly desperate, with dwindling resources and increasing zombie numbers, the living must prey on the other living in order to take what they have. Never is this more apparent than when the Governor (going by the name Brian that he saw written on a wall) and his new group come across a band of survivors in the woods. When they come back to see what they are doing later, the people have been massacred and their goods taken. It has become a world of every person for him or herself.


The writers took great pains in episodes 4:6 and 4:7 to show the Governor’s side of things. They built up his character in such a way as to garner some sympathy, to give him a new family and group, but then pulled it all away when he started back on his murderous ways. He vows to protect Lilly and her daughter Meghan, and we wonder if he is appreciating this second chance (since he lost his wife and daughter) or is he using it to gain power. It seems by 4:8 that it is a little bit of both.


The Governor has not given up his grudge against Rick and the survivors. He blames them for the loss of Woodbury (where he once ruled with iron fist), he still retains hatred for Michonne (who “killed” his living dead daughter), and he sees the prison as his ultimate prize. He convinces his new group to attack the prison (they have a tank at their disposal). He promises there will be no blood, that they will force the others out, and take the prize he has always wanted.


There is just one problem. He has kidnapped Michonne and Hershel and promises them no blood will be shed. Michonne is like a trapped tiger; she wants to kill him (she hasn’t forgotten what he did to Andrea). Hershel, the ever wise and true (to use a battered term) moral compass in the series, tells him they can live together. The Governor says it’s impossible, and we can tell which way this will go.


In the prison there has been some stability, but they had the infection that nearly wiped everyone out, and then there is unrest in the ranks. When Rick discovers Carol killed two infected people and burned their bodies, he banishes her from the prison. He worries about what Tyrese will do when he learns that Carol killed his love, Karen.


dead 4So many people have been lost at this point. That when the Governor pulls the tank and his minions up to the front gate, my first thought was that Rick might finally acquiesce. There is just too much lost to lose more. With Hershel and Michonne bound and ready to be executed, I felt that Rick would give, but instead he rises to the challenge of true leadership. Rick explains why they can work together and live together. His argument is compelling and valid. Surely as a group they will be stronger than if they fight each other. No matter how strong Rick’s words are, the Governor has already made up his mind.

dead 1As he stands with Michonne’s katana sword hovering over the kneeling Hershel, Hershel smiles as he hears Rick’s speech. He has always been Rick’s mentor, and now the teacher is assured that his words have been absorbed. Rick will lead and continue with Hershel’s philosophy as he goes. Then the proverbial crap hit’s the fan. The Governor almost decapitates Hershel, the guns start blazing, Michonne attempts to escape, and it is really a viscious battle. Despite having the tank, slowly the Governor’s side is eliminated. Meanwhile, Lilly and Megan who did not accompany the group to the prison, have had their own horror to deal with. Meghan is bitten on the shoulder while playing near the pond, and Lilly carries her lifeless body to the battlefield.


dead 2The Governor, who had kept his biological daughter Penny “alive” after death, has obviously learned from his mistakes. He shoots Meghan without batting an eye (remember he only has one), and Lilly looks on in horror. There is no turning back and, as the title of the episode clearly captures the essence of things, “Too Far Gone” describes every character and the resolution of the battle. As the Governor and Rick finally have their one-on-one fight, Rick seems to be winning but then the Governor gets the best of him. Just when it seems he will tear the throat out of Rick (as he did with the walker in the pit in 4:6), Michonne runs him through with the katana he used to decapitate Hershel.


dead 3Rick’s crew wins the battle, but loses the war as someone has driven away with half the camp in the school bus. Rick and Carl find baby Judith’s car seat empty and bloody, and Tyrese is saved by the kids Carol adopted as her own. At this point people are scattering, the center has collapsed, and the prison is overrun by walkers. Lilly stands over the dying Governor on the battlefield. She raises a gun and finishes off the man who had been her lover and sworn protector of her child. There is some catharsis in this, almost as if Andrea (the Governor’s other abused lover) was there in spirit pulling the trigger with her.


At the end Carl helps the stumbling Rick get away from the fallen prison. As the walkers overwhelm the place they called home, Rick tells Carl, “Don’t look back.” Not that Carl was in danger of turning into a pillar of salt, but there was the idea that civilization had fallen, the world fell apart, and what is next may be worse than what is left behind.


I don’t know about you, but this season has increasingly taken an emotional toll. To lose Carol and Hershel has been hard, but it is even more difficult to imagine baby Judith being devoured. There is also the clear and obvious danger that every survivor now faces, walking into the darkness of a night with nothing but their own hands and experience to keep them alive.


Showrunner Scott M. Gimple promised this early this season when he appeared on the first episode of Talking Dead. He warned that things would get much worse (after Patrick turned into a zombie in the prison shower). Mr. Gimple, you are a man of your word.


Now we have to wait, but only until February. I’m not really sold on these split seasons. AMC saw the benefit of this with Breaking Bad, and it does build up the anticipation of what will happen. It also gives us a long time to think about all the possibilities, but there are these things to think about:

*Who drove the bus away against Maggie’s orders to wait for everyone?
*What happens to the few people from the Governor’s crew now, especially Lilly?
*Did baby Judith die or was she saved by someone?
*Do the survivors have a plan to meet somewhere? I hope it’s not the Big Lot store.
*Who was feeding rats to the walkers and eviscerating rabbits inside the prison?
*Is Carol still alive and is she coming back for “her girls” and what will that do to Tyrese?
*What force killed all those people in the woods and took their things? Will this force reveal itself and be a factor in the rest of the season?
*Can Rick be the leader Hershel always knew he could be?
*Finally, will we ever get to know what’s happening beyond this forest in the rest of the world? Or is this all that’s left?

 We will find out all this and more in February, folks. Until then, Klaatu Barada Nikto!

  Photo credits: AMC

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Thanksgivukkah

First appeared on Blogcritics.

hanak 1 ny daily newsSubmit it for your approval; the next stop is the Menurkey Zone. “Menurkey?” you may ask, but it is indeed a word. A great story in the New York Daily News tells of an enterprising young lad from Manhattan named Asher Weintraub, who designed a combination menorah-turkey and dubbed it a “Menurkey.” According to his father Anthony, swift thinking Asher has sold over 5,000 of these lovely little tchotchkes to the public just craving something to mark the convergence of Thanksgiving and Chanukah. Or is that Thanksgivukkah this year?


As someone who celebrates Christmas, I have always been dismayed about Thanksgiving falling into a sort of abyss that we could have found on the The Twilight Zone. It seems each year it becomes increasingly overlooked in terms of a “no” holiday, as in November, that falls inconveniently between mega-holidays Halloween and Christmas.


Since I love the essence of Thanksgiving – being a holiday that lacks presents and only requires the presence of friends and loved ones – it bothers me that after the haunted hijinks of Halloween, we get people pulling down the witches and ghosts and slapping up the Christmas lights, without even thinking about an illuminated turkey or two. It truly bugs me that Thanksgiving – the very nature of being “thankful” is so essential – is relegated now to a day where we may gather, but need to rush because stores are open on this day as they never were before. It seems this year it could be a case of pass the stuffing and here’s your hat, I’ve got to go shopping now! Man, do I hate that idea.What about the wonderful slow process of  eating the pumpkin pie while sitting in front of the TV watching football? How dare they stomp on such sacred tradtions!


Now, I’ve been hearing Christmas songs in the stores since the day after Halloween, and for the last couple of weeks on the radio. By the time December rolls around I think I will want to pummel the dashboard anytime I hear Andy Williams sing “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” (which seems like every five minutes these days). I never thought it would come to this. Ever.


hanak 3 getty imagesMeanwhile, the lights and trees and angels are glowing, and Santas everywhere are “Ho-Ho-Hoing,” and the  menorahs are yet to be lit. I also feel as if Chanukah has always gotten the short end of the stick, which is usually because it falls so close to Christmas. I remember my friend’s home down the block from my house of glowing lights with its lonely menorah in the window, the blue light bulbs increasing each “crazy night” (according to Adam Sandler) until all the blue bulbs were glowing, sometimes for days after Chanukah officially ended. I used to think it was sad, but now somehow I think it was a defiant symbol of upholding tradition amidst all the crazy lightshow that Christmas had become.


I still feel bad for those of us who want to celebrate Thanksgiving and Chanukah every year. These seemed to be overwhelmed holidays, especially due to the crass commercialism that created the seemingly unstoppable Halloween-Christmas monster holiday. However, young Asher may have found a way to save the day in some way with his brilliant creation. By linking Chanukah and Thanksgiving with his Menurkey, he has thought of a way to not just bridge the gap but perhaps overcome it.


adamIf there is some way to make this an annual celebration (oh, overlooking the lunar calendar, of course), there could be a grand swelling of those who want to mark this fourth Thursday of November more passionately, standing up to the big eastern syndicate that longed to link Halloween and Christmas for so many years (you don’t think that Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin was just a coincidence, do you?).


So this year drink your gin and tonica, play your harmonica, light you Menurkey, and eat your turkey. Oh, and watch some football if you dare. It is definitely beginning to look like Chanukah and Thanksgiving. Happy Thanksgivukkah to all, and to all a good (and crazy) eight nights!  


  Photo credits: weintraub-daily news; sandler nbc.com; menorah-getty images

Thursday, November 21, 2013

50th Anniversary of JFK Assassination – The Agony and the Legacy

First appeared on Blogcritics.

JFK - 1 (wikipedia)There are many people reading this now who were not alive when John F. Kennedy died, and those who were too young to remember him, but that is insignificant in terms of the meaning his death had on their lives. JFK’s assassination – as the untimely death of any President of the United States – changed the course of history. It also changed people’s lives in rather personal and distinct ways.


I’ve always heard people talk about the first president they can remember. My father said, “Herbert Hoover,” and my mother said “FDR.” My father’s dad remembered McKinley and the day that he was shot, and I suppose I can connect with that because JFK is the first president I remember, and it was because of his being shot and the subsequent funeral procession that I watched on TV that I still can remember him all these years later.


I was only four years old, and my mother was giving me a bath upstairs in the house. I remember my grandmother screaming my mother’s name upstairs – mom probably couldn’t hear because of the running water in the tub. Finally she did hear and turned off the tap. “What’s wrong?” my mother asked.


Until this day I remember Nana’s voice as clear as can be. “The president has been shot!”

JFK - 4 ny daily newsAll these years later those words reverberate in my heart and touch my soul. I guess it would be the first time that I would make a connection of the world to my life. I became aware of something larger than the fun and games of my little world in my own home, and as my mother took me downstairs swaddled in towels, the TV screen was filled with people talking and looking very sad.


The next most powerful memory for me was when I saw the horse with no rider. I recall seeing that to this day and feeling scared by it, like it made no sense. “Where’s the cowboy?” I supposedly asked my mother. I don’t remember that, but I do recall the image of little John. He was basically my age, a kid I could play with if time and space allowed, but there he was in the harsh sunshine saluting his daddy. My mother and grandmother were crying, and as it happens with kids I cried too, but luckily my daddy was coming home that night.


All these years later I think we are all still affected by JFK’s untimely death. I have been watching so many different TV shows and reports about it, leading up to the anniversary that marks fifty years. Fifty years? Sadly, it seems we have learned little or nothing as a nation in all this time. Looking back now it meant something inherently more to my family than just a president dying – he was our first Catholic president. Just as people will take pride in a person from their town or state being elected to the highest office in the land, it was perceived by Catholics that this was a monumental achievement. I don’t think after all these years people have fully understood this factor, but it was as big a deal then as Mr. Obama being the first black president is now. Whenever a barrier is knocked down, a prejudice overcome, it is a victory for not just those specific people but all people.


I will make it no secret that I have admired JFK most of my life. The fact that he was Catholic is barely a factor, but I do respect so much how he handled the nature of his faith as he dealt with the realities he faced. I think the best comment he made about his faith was this one: “I am not the Catholic candidate for President. I am the Democratic Party's candidate for President, who happens also to be a Catholic.”


This should have immediately disarmed critics, but as we know that was and never is the case. We can certainly compare JFK to Mr. Obama in many ways – both being young, handsome, charismatic, and groundbreaking. We can also note (no matter how much guys like Sean Hannity and Bill O’Reilly will protest) that Mr. Obama is subject to the most intense negativity, the most pernicious opposition, and the deepest disdain imaginable due to no other reason than his race. JFK may have faced the same things because of his faith, but back then it was not so glaringly apparent as it is today.


There were those who warned JFK about going to Dallas back in November 1963. He would not be welcome there it was said. This could have to do with many things, but let’s not forget that he was Catholic. Many of his opponents were against his policies, but the deep prejudice of that time also factored into the situation. History tells us what happened to other Catholics, as well as Jews and blacks, who dared to venture into unfriendly southern territory with a message people were not open to hear.


All these years later we see a president in his second term being attacked almost on a daily basis. You will hear it is about Obamacare now, or Libya, or the IRS, or whatever obfuscation his critics like to use, but Oprah Winfrey (and others) are right to point out that no president in recent memory ever had to withstand such negativity and seemingly pure hatred from the right the way Mr. Obama has had to do. Perhaps this wouldn’t be the case if things were different, if JFK had not died.


There has been great speculation in books and TV shows about “what if” scenarios. How would the world we be different had JFK lived? There are two ways to approach this: one is if he had never been shot; the other is if he had survived the shooting. I think they are different paths that we could explore ad infinitum. The one salient fact would be that this would be a far different country.


We could speculate that Civil Rights would have been embraced more passionately than ever. Robert F. Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King probably would have lived, with the likelihood of RFK becoming president directly after his brother’s second term. Vietnam would have ended earlier; there would have been no Nixon presidency, no Watergate, no Gerry Ford (sadly meaning no Chevy Chase impersonation of him), and perhaps no Jimmy Carter or Iran hostage crisis. We could go on and on, but the point is that JFK’s death changed not just some things but everything.


JFK - 2 (newsbusters.org)I mentioned earlier that we have learned nothing from history or JFK’s death. I mean this not just in relation to the fierce opposition to Mr. Obama, but in every other aspect of politics as well. Everything is a battle in Washington these days. “Bipartisan” is a dirty word, and both sides of the aisle resemble people seen in the show Doomsday Preppers. Instead of concentrating on today’s business the politicians are worried about preparing for tomorrow’s disasters. It’s incredulous that they are talking about 2016 already; quite frankly, the whole thing is making me truly sick of all politicians.



Simon and Garfunkel once sang, “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?” and we can easily sing it and insert “JFK” into the lyrics. Was it a simpler time? No, JFK faced off against the Russians, the Cubans, and an array of slings and arrows even then, but he did not have a fractured Congress with half its members hoping to undermine his every step; he did not have a news media out for blood, and he certainly had no issues with the peanut gallery of Internet bloggers and social media hovering over him.


You mention JFK and you think of something as long ago and far away as a fantasy place, where the presidency was respected by most everyone, where the reporters would ask tough questions but with respect, and that the public would unite behind the man without regard to their own political affiliations. I remember my father saying, “Once elected, whatever party; he is my president.” I don’t hear anyone saying that today.


So now on this 50th anniversary we mourn the passing of a legend. JFK – the rock star president and political comet that soared ever too briefly across the nation's sky. We should mourn not just his untimely death, but the loss of a time not tainted by the political charnel filled with minutiae that subsumes today’s Washington, turning into a disgraceful bloodbath. Truly, JFK's death changed the world as his election to the presidency promised to do.


Still, whether we can remember him personally or not, his time in office remains a beacon of hope showing us how things should be, what we wish still could be. We can only imagine now, but we are compelled to think back fondly about the handsome young president, his beautiful young wife, and their two children standing on the steps of the White House. Some people called it Camelot – a golden age – and for that moment, ever so briefly, his star shone brightly and now, as we look upward, there is still something notably missing in the firmament.


Photo credits: JFK-wikipedia; limousine-newsbusters.org; funeral-ny daily news

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Common Core Wars – The Phantom Menace: Parents!

First appeared on Blogcritics.

core 2 selfYesterday across the nation there were calls by parents and their advocates to pull their kids from school as a protest against the Common Core State Standards. This was a case of parents who have had enough, were mad as hell, and refused to take it anymore.



Despite the fact of reports saying that the protest “fell flat” – according to New York State school superintendents – there were indications of places across the country where students were pulled from classrooms as a protest. The salient element here is not how many kids didn’t attend school, but rather that parents are starting to think of their children’s rights as students and their rights as parents. It's about time!


In a reaction to what was happening (or not happening) around the country, U.S. Secretary of Education Arne Duncan was quoted giving an explanation that is rather astounding. He said, “All of a sudden, their child isn’t as brilliant as they thought they were and their school isn’t quite as good as they thought . . . and that’s pretty scary.” His words can be taken in many different ways, but mostly as an affirmation of President Obama’s Race to the Top which rewards schools for not only the implementation of the CCSS, but also for plans that connect teacher evaluations to the standardized tests based on these standards.


So is Mr. Duncan saying that the standards are viable, that students doing poorly on assessments linked to these standards have not been taught properly, and that the teachers are responsible for this and should be held accountable? That is definitely the mantra here in New York City and State, where Governor Andrew Cuomo and Mayor Michael Bloomberg have been salivating for the opportunity to use poor test scores as the basis to get rid of teachers – mostly experienced, tenured teachers who have high salaries and excellent benefits. This is cost savings at the most ridiculous and incredulous.


What is happening now is that parents who have been happy with their children’s schools, who like their children’s teachers, and believe that there is more to education than numbers from dubious testing instruments linked to poorly introduced standards, are starting to stand up for themselves.


Woe to Mr. Duncan and all the rest if parents really start invoking their rights not only as legal guardians but as taxpayers. The problem with the Common Core has never been the standards themselves but rather how they were introduced to the nation. In the worst case of force feeding ever, these new more rigorous and deep standards were rammed down the throats of students, parents, and teachers without the necessary preparation.


So the “phantom menace” that may just take down the evil empire of education departments, complicit superintendents, and other officials could just be those parents who have had enough. This “protest” may have fizzled, but that shouldn’t be mistaken as lack of interested parents. They are treading lightly now, but they are also concerned about the implications of the testing that has been increasingly demanding on class time.


As standardized testing increases quality time in the classroom decreases. As a former classroom teacher, I always hated test times. This was mostly because tests were a necessary evil and needed to procure grades in order to put marks on a report card. While many people (including teachers) think some testing is legitimate, the way standardized testing is being done now calls for an almost full-scale tilt toward the most dreaded words truly dedicated educators never want to hear – teaching to the test.


core 1 newsdayAs the debacle of Race to the Top, CCSS, and standardized testing continues to metastasize into an out of control disease, many parents are becoming aware of the pernicious effects on their children’s school experience. You do not have to be an educator to know that teaching to the test has nothing to do with learning anything – except how to succeed on that assessment. All the high expectations and rigorous standards in the world mean nothing in this scenario, especially if the end result is numbers that can be played with and used to advance the nefarious plans of state and local officials. I believe it is time for parents to invoke their rights and put commissioners, superintendents, and politicians on the hot seat.


Here in New York, for example, there have been calls for state education commissioner John King to resign, even by people as venerable as Diane Ravitch, who cites that King has gone too far and is actually hurting our children with his policies. She is not alone in her anger and frustration with policies that rob our children of real education in order to partake in the actual undermining of the system.


So maybe people like Arne Duncan think this is over, but this is far from over. Parents must ask questions, seek real answers, and fight for justice for their children. Parents all across the United States must unite against this tyranny; they have nothing to lose but the chains of the CCSS wed to standardized testing, a marriage of inconvenience that is taking real education away for their children.


Photo credits: protest-jim self/the state.com; students in class-newsday

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

The Anniversary of the Crash of Flight 587 – A Silence Too Loud for Words

First appeared on Blogcritics.

587 3When American Airlines Flight 587, heading toward the Dominican Republic on November 12, 2001, took off it was on a day as clear with a sky as blue as was the day two months previously, September 11, 2001, when the terrorist attacks took place. On such days there is complacency, almost an inherent feeling, that all will be well when getting on a plane. Unfortunately, shortly after taking off from New York’s JFK International Airport, Flight 587 slammed into Belle Harbor, Queens, killing 260 people on board and five people on the ground. 


Yesterday there was a ceremony at the memorial on Beach 116th Street (NYC Mayor Michael Bloomberg attended), though hardly covered in the media . There was a story in the New York Daily News, and I did hear radio reports about it, but the quiet was almost deafening for me. Maybe because I’m a New Yorker who lost people on 9-11, or maybe because I recall thinking that day that the terrorists did it again, but this crash is like lots of other plane crashes including the ones that took down the World Trade Center – most people in power (and certainly the airlines) wish we would just forget that they ever happened because, quite frankly, it’s just not good for business.


587 - 1If you take the subway to Beach 116th Street, come out of the station and turn left, you can walk down a rather interesting street that is the heart of the area known as the Rockaways. Once dubbed the “Irish Riviera” due to all the people of that nationality who lived in the area, now Beach 116th Street is home to a beautiful memorial to those who perished in the crash of Flight 587. On quiet days in the autumn you can basically visit there alone, seeing the names of those who perished etched in the stone and looking up at the ocean in all its tranquility.


It is an odd place for a memorial, wedged between street and boardwalk and sea, and yet it is fittingly aerodynamic, as if it will take off with the wind. Perhaps that’s the point of its construction, to feel some spirituality as you stand on what seems to be almost the edge of the city, looking out on the horizon that regrettably the plane never reached.


The public explanation of why the plane crashed is that it was the “first officer’s overuse of rudder controls” in the “wake of a Japanese Airlines plane” that had taken off before it. I guess someone will see me as a conspiracy theorist, but if I were a family member of anyone who died that day I would still question this official story. It was so close to 9-11 – too close for comfort if you ask me – and there would have to be many reasons why a terrorist action would have to be downplayed or even covered up. Imagine the reaction of the public if another terrorist group had managed to take over a plane so soon after 9-11? It’s easy to see why that fact would have been suppressed to ease fears and to keep the airline business from shutting down yet another time.


587 2Still, for me there is the simple truth of loss. 260 souls didn’t get where they were headed – they went from going on vacation or going to see relatives to the next world. Whatever happened that day – whether it was terrorism or not – it is the loss of human beings who deserve to be recognized and remembered. For all those who saw those people off at the airport and those who were waiting for a plane in Santo Domingo that never arrived, this day will live in infamy just as 9-11 does, and maybe now they wait for justice or a truth that will never come.


Perhaps the fact that it happened so shortly after 9-11is a coincidence, and maybe we will never know. Despite all the recovered black boxes and official stories, since 9-11 I view every plane crash differently. I suspect everything and everyone, and quite frankly I still get shaken when I see a plane in the sky, especially over New York City. I don’t care how many years have passed and how many times I’ve been told to “get over it,” because I am never going to get over it until the day I die.


For now I want to recognize the victims and their families of American Airlines Flight 587 that crashed on November 12, 2001. I also wish to remember those five people who died on the ground. None of you should be forgotten, and the ceremony is something to acknowledge your loss and suffering. I know that family members and friends of the victims all have no choice but to never forget, even though it will sometimes seem that other people wish you did.


Photo credit – plane and firefighters-NY Daily News; 9-11

Monday, November 11, 2013

Veteran’s Day - Remembering Why We Celebrate November 11, 1918

Appeared first on Blogcritics.

vets 2So long ago now that the day is no longer a memory for living souls, November 11, 1918, remains a significant day in history. On what was known back then as Armistice Day, The Great War (now known as World War I) ended after a grueling six weeks of battle in the French forest known as Meuse-Argonne. When it was all over 25,000 Americans were dead and more than 95,000 wounded. The price of glory, as always, was considerably high and involved the significant loss of American blood and treasure.


Looking back on it now so many years and Veteran’s Days later, we know that whatever was learned from such horrific numbers is largely forgotten. To my grandfather, who fought valiantly in that “war to end all wars,” there would come along something called World War II. This incredulous occurrence shook him because he and many of his friends thought that they had fought for something more than just a victory: they wanted to make sure it would never happen again.


Pop came back and lived his life. Many of his friends never came back, losing their lives over there. Some never returned home but lived, becoming expatriates because what they saw shook them so much, broke all belief in god and country, and made them wish to be anything but American. This wasn’t because they hated America but that they loved it, but now it was no longer possible to return home because part of themselves died in those forests and trenches. They had to remain behind as it were only to unite their lost selves with what was left of them.


As we all know war has never ended. There was World War II, Korea, Vietnam, the Persian Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraq. Along the way more and more soldiers were lost, more treasure spent, and blood spilled in the deserts, on the beaches, and in the fields of the world all seemed for naught because peace remains elusive.


Yet brave men and women volunteer, go forward against all odds, and do what most people would not be able or willing to do. They are like those firefighters on 9-11 who went up while everyone else came down. There is something inherently noble and compelling about such dedication, such bravery, and this is more than love of country and honor of service - it is something bigger than the individual.


I have had family members who have fought in every war since the Spanish-American War. What I have always heard from them was there was a “sense of obligation” that encouraged them, inspired them, and drove them forward. They fought for something greater than themselves, believing in the idea that they were securing the future for their children and generations to come.


No one likes war; most of us despise it. All the people I have known who have been in the Armed Forces hated war too, but that didn’t stop them. They also loved their country and their families so deeply that they were willing to forego personal freedom and safety to do something to secure a better future.


vets 1However futile it may seem to us on the outside, no matter how much we disdain the politics of war and its hawks who wish to crush the doves, we must remember that these men and women are beyond that minutiae. They volunteer, they serve, and sometimes they die. They come home wounded or missing limbs and sometimes parts of themselves. They do not seek glory but they deserve respect, admiration, and some kind of consideration.

On this Veteran’s Day we should remember all those who died and all those who returned. Some never could march in a Veteran’s Day parade but still make their way each year in cars or in wheelchairs. No matter how I feel about all the wars - and for each of us that’s complicated by personal issues - I truly admire those who have served and who serve us now. These men and women are noble; they deserve a parade and more than we could ever give them.


Still, I think of Pop in his last years, the shaky hands that never went away. He had PTSD the rest of his life after the war, but it was dismissed as “shell shock” back then. He was supposed to go home and get over it.


vets 3In many ways he did just that. He joined a different force and became a New York City firefighter (no surprise to any of us), raised his family, saw his grandchildren grow up, and enjoyed life as much as he could. I picture him now sitting in his chair, holding a cigarette in one shaking hand and a glass of beer in the other. Yes, he never forgot what he lived through and the horrors that he witnessed, but he managed to live a life and in the end I don’t think we grandchildren (and now great grandchildren) could ask any more than that.


I salute all veterans today, but especially my grandfather, father, uncles, and cousins who all served with honor. Maybe one day we will see the enduring peace that they thought they were fighting for but never was achieved. That peace may come someday, and then the spirits of all those who served can rest knowing that their mission has finally been accomplished.


Photo credits: parade-veterans today.com; poster-ktvb.com; doughboy-aef-doughboys.com

Friday, November 8, 2013

The Unbearable Lightness of Virtual Being

First appeared on Blogcritics.

gordon brainline.org How do we react to life as we know it when that life includes a virtual reality? As I get deeper into the “online experience” - which almost sounds like an amusement park ride - I realize that I have indeed established relationships with people I have never met physically. Despite not having ever been in the same room with these people, I have become involved with them, have worked with them, and have developed friendships.


 It amazes me that sometimes I feel deep respect and admiration for these people. Based on my interactions with them, I become aware of their intense humanity and decency. In some cases, I encounter those with whom I do not wish to be associated just as I do in the real world; however, more often than not, I find these online people to be like minded and I wish to be involved with them. It seems to me that human interaction does not have to be actual to be meaningful.


As a writer and editor at Blogcritics Magazine, I have learned to appreciate people for their work ethic, their creativity, their talents, and for their dedication to the craft of writing. This becomes especially important when one of them steps forward, noticing that you are the new kid on the block, and offers something less than advice but more than a casual interest, helping you to grow as a writer and later as an editor. This person was named Gordon Hauptfleisch.


A fellow editor and writer at BC whom I admired and respected, Gordon and I established an online friendship of sorts. While I appreciated his work and editing skills, what always shone through was his inherent decency and that he was a gentleman. I never witnessed him feed into the manic commentary process, but rather noted that he was supportive and never judgmental. In short, he was everything a mentor should and could be. Alas, as in the actual world, we lose people in the virtual world as well. When we lost Gordon - and I say “we” because many of my fellow writers and editors on BC mourned his passing - there was a void that we knew would never be filled. Gordon’s loss was felt, and everyone had wonderful stories and things to say about him.


gordon linkedinUnfortunately, the efficiency and speed of our virtual world also equates to a measure of ignorance that seems impersonal and grossly inadequate in the human equation. Gordon remains “active” in the virtual world of LinkedIn, where, although his account is “disabled,” we still get bombarded with his image on a daily basis requesting endorsement of his skills. I have been trying to ignore this for some time, even though each time I saw his picture it bothered me on a personal, actual gut level. I felt deeply and truly disturbed by his image mostly because I knew he was no longer there.


Now it all changed today when I was sent an email requesting that I congratulate Gordon on his anniversary at Blogcritics. I guess I could no longer emotionally ignore this virtual charade. I wanted to do something, write a comment on LinkedIn, but I doubted that was appropriate. So that brings us to why I am here writing this now.


Blogcritics is a community and, dare I say, a virtual family. We have our “parents” in Barbara and Jon (please take a look at Jon’s take on this subject), and then we have all the aunts, uncles, siblings, cousins, and assorted Cratchits that make up our virtual brood. We work together, support each other, and some of us even interact on Facebook or LinkedIn or share personal emails. The personalities are vastly different and, at times as in all families, we may have a conflict here or there, but we do come together as a community and stick together, especially when rogue elements have tried to undermine our efforts.


Overall, being a part of Blogcritics has been a great and meaningful part of not just my virtual life but my actual every day existence. Yet this episode with Gordon serves as a reminder that we all can recognize as a truth of virtual reality: we can sometimes fall into the digital cracks and, even after we pass on, we still remain a presence, a name in the void, a speck of online light like a distant star in the sky that we see even though it burned out centuries ago.


I suppose I write this to honor Gordon’s memory and also all those who may have passed on but remain an incongruous virtual presence. The day will come when we each will face the same virtual reality, but this unbearable yet inevitable consequence of online life is like a living death, and unless someone can intervene and make a tangible effort to stop it, we no doubt will linger in the ether for all time.


So on your 8th Blogcritics anniversary, I salute you, Gordon Hauptfleisch, and hope you can rest in peace and forgive the online ignorance that no doubt will persist long after we have all passed from our actual and virtual lives to the evanescence of digital forevermore.


Photo credits: Gordon-linked in; virtual head-brainline.org

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Time Change - We All Time Travel Whether We Want to Or Not

First appeared on Blogcritics.

fall back 2 Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity. -William Shakespeare



The touch of time is such an elusive thing, one that either drives us to action or causes complacency that ends in the dormancy of defeat. We all worry about time all the time. Watch people when time does not matter to you, when you are loitering on a park bench or leaning against a city wall. See the delirium on their faces as they rush here and there; notice how often someone checks his or her watch waiting at a bus stop; see how frustrated people can become in a doctor’s waiting room as time seems to almost stand still.


Our worries about time are a pressing human need to control that which is out of bounds. We fret over hours, minutes, and seconds when sometimes days and weeks pass by with tedium. Five minutes waiting for a train seems like eternity; five minutes playing our favorite sports feels like seconds. Time is a universal qualifier and we all must endure its wrath and burden. So, when we are thrust into yet another situation completely out of our control - a time change - it seems that whether we view the glass as half full (oh, we got an extra hour of sleep) or we see it as half empty (I slept through an hour I will never get back), the issue of the change being thrust upon us is the same.


I have had different feelings about time changes over the years. When I was young, my parents let us stay up an hour later than usual and watch TV because we were getting that extra hour. When I was a young man going out with my friends, the idea that the bar or club would stay open an extra hour was infinitely appealing; however, it always bothered me that on another Saturday in the spring we would lose that hour again and have to pack it in early.


Once I had my own children I too allowed them that stay up late option, but as I have learned this morning, that does not get them up earlier or even at their usual Sunday morning time. Staying up later invariably leads them to wanting to sleep longer the next day, and I must say I do understand this need as almost a way to stay in bed until nine o’clock, even if it is really ten o'clock.


fall back 5Now, I am also thinking about the philosophical implications of sleeping through the time change. As I am sleeping (and most of the local area is too), the silent stars pass over New York City and we ostensibly all go back in time. It’s not in H.G. Wells’ style (no time machine required), but we are time traveling. That opportunity, however involuntary, is perhaps a missed moment in time. Why sleep through that?


fall back 4One year I could not sleep and remember staring at the computer screen with a throbbing in my brain, and as the clock went from 1:59 back to 1:00, it registered in my mind that things are falling apart even as we all think they are structured and together. At that moment, in all it’s power and regal entitlement, the universe was basically telling me, “You have an extra hour to stare at that clock and not be able to sleep,” and there was nothing I could do about it.


Maybe we should appreciate the journey through space and time for what it is, and perhaps we can wonder how that extra hour could be appreciated, just like that subway train that comes on time or that empty department store at dinnertime. What we do with our time is inextricably linked to how we view the moment spent. Are we living for that moment and appreciating it? Or are we letting hours expire at great expense?


fall back 1All of this comes back to the time change. Today some of us will be reinvigorated by having that extra hour under our belts, or maybe we can have the problem that we arrived at the store that opens at 7:30 but forgot to set our watches back; therefore, we were there an hour too early.


They say what comes around goes around. That is true of the earth turning on its axis and spinning through space around the sun. We live our days and years and move through eternity on this rock hurtling through the infinite expanse of an unyielding universe. As we turn our clocks back this morning, sip our coffee, and glance at the newspaper, usually some kind of symbol will make us aware that time has gone backwards. What does it mean to us in the big picture: perhaps nothing or maybe everything.


What do we do with our time? How can we make it count? Maybe the idea is that every minute we live does not need to be qualified. Living our lives on the clock invariably means we will be dominated by it. Yes, we all have schedules and we face the reality of having to be here or there, but there are down times and we should really savor those. Walk on the beach, meander in the park, sit and watch the world go by and feel the strength in not having to be anywhere at anytime. We all need that now and then.


I hope you enjoy the rest of the day and make every minute count, but whatever you do please don’t count your minutes.


Photo credits: nyc night-thechive.com; harold lloyd-favim.com; worker-bubblews.com; fall back-houstonherald.com

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Halloween Treat – Watch George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead

First appeared on Blogcritics.


Dawn_of_the_dead wikipediaAbout a year ago I came across a box of old videotapes filled with classic movies that I had recorded from cable TV over the years. One of the movies I was fortunate enough to have taped was George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1978). Before all the Michaels and Jasons, before the lovelorn vampires and conflicted werewolves, and especially before the AMC phenomenon The Walking Dead, there was Romero and his zombies. Watching the film again last night, I am pleased to say it not only stands the test of time but gets better with age.


I remember first seeing this film in the theater and people going wild. After all, we had waited ten years since Romero’s classic Night of the Living Dead. Despite that film’s simplistic power, the “sequel” (if you can call it that because no one from the first film is present) has a bit of an edge on the original.


dawn basement rejectsFilmed in "living" color for all those wonderful gory scenes of squiggling intestines, devoured limbs, and machetes to the head, we follow the story of four survivors who barricade themselves in a suburban shopping mall. Having escaped the insanity of an unraveling Philadelphia in a stolen helicopter, Stephen (David Emge), Peter (Ken Foree), Roger (Scott Reiniger), and Fran (Gaylen Ross) fly over the widespread conflict that they note “is everywhere.” While the power of the first film was being trapped in a small farmhouse and not being privy to what was happening in the world (except through brief glimpses on TV), here we understand that the National Guard and the Army are involved but slowly losing the battle.


Landing on the roof of the mall to give pilot Stephen a chance to rest, Peter and Roger (both AWOL guardsmen) see the benefits of staying put for a while and doing some shopping – lots and lots of shopping. Besides having all the amenities they could possibly want, the mall also provides a secure location – if only they can get rid of all the zombies roaming the place. I won’t spoil the fun for you if you have never seen this film, but there is plenty of action and zombie kills. Romero spoofs the original in the sense that these survivors taunt the zombies with punches, karate chops, and even pies in the face. There is also a wry commentary on our nature as consumers, with the zombies being the ultimate all-night shoppers. Fran asks, “Why do they come here?” Stephen replies, “This was an important place in their lives,” and apparently in their deaths as well.


dawn studentarchiveThe best comment comes from Peter (the excellent Foree who should have gone on to be a huge star), who tells them about what his grandfather (a voodoo priest) once told him. “When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.” I guess Satan seriously overbooked his guestrooms.


While all the blood and gore should satisfy the horror purists, what makes this movie a cut above the usual slasher-pics is that we have four main characters that are fully developed. We actually care about them, get to understand their motivations, and we really don’t want to see any of them die. When Roger and Peter go out on a mission (to take tractor trailers and block the entrances of the mall), there is a palpable sense of foreboding that something will go wrong.


The Walking Dead is a fine successor to Romero’s work, but he got it right first and is still the master. If we like that show because of the human interactions more than the zombie kills, it is because they learned from Romero that you have to care about the survivors in order to make the whole thing count. When Jason and Michael are dispatching hapless victims, we almost cheer the killers because each one is as expendable as the last. Not so in Romero’s world, which is why his films (particularly Dawn) are still the gold standard of horror.


Do yourself a favor this Halloween (or any other time of the year), and go rent George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead. I guarantee you it will have some tricks but a good deal more treats for your viewing pleasure.


Photo credits: poster-wikipedia, gun scene-basementrejects.com; zombies-studentarchive.com