On Getting Old -- 28

Although only a national holiday since 1941, I’m claiming this day as my official 69th Independence Day celebration. We, as a nation, may have made mistakes in the past, but we live in a land where we are unafraid to express our views; where we are free to chase our dreams; where we can live in harmony if we so choose.

I thank God for being chosen to live in this country. I thank God for those around me who make my journey through life more pleasant. I thank God for those young men who help assure this pleasant life.

Today’s candy cannot be tastier.

Ciao

On Getting Old -- 27

Our good friend and originator of our radio recreation ensemble, Chuck Schaden, called it quits on radio after being on the air for thirty-nine years. Chuck always likes to do things with panache. So he chose thirty-nine years to sign off the air waves in honor of his favorite radio personality, Jack Benny. As you know Jack told everyone that he was thirty-nine years old.

Anticipating a large crowd wanting to be a part of this bit of history, Chuck decided to broadcast his last show from the Morton Grove Civic Center. How right he was. Hundreds of his fans descended on this auditorium to show Chuck how sorely he will be missed.

How honored I have been to be a part of Chuck’s illustrious career. Fourteen years ago I was delighted to be selected to direct his 25th Anniversary show. It was momentous to direct Shirley Bell Cole [the original Little Orphan Annie], Billy Idelson, [Rush Gook on the “Vic and Sade” show], and Fred Foy [the legendary announcer for the Lone Ranger].

Not many radio personalities can claim an on-air program spanning four decades. For a complete bio on Chuck or to purchase a CD of his final program, go to

http://www.nostalgiadigest.com/

Well, needless to say, my daily candy is oh so sweet today. Chuck has a charming way to bring us back to those days. Usually those days were the simpler ones of my youth. His retirement took me back to those days of more recent vintage. I am so happy to be able to call Chuck my friend. Ah, dear Chuck, Those Were The Days! I hope you have many more to look back on.

Ciao

On Getting Old -- 26

This week has been tough for losing people. In Michael Jackson’s heyday I never paid much attention to his music. I was too intent on working my way through the corporate world. Some years later I happened to watch one of his videos – Thriller. I was hooked and became a fan. To coin a phrase from the past, this week the music died.

Also, we at least have imprinted in our minds the Farrah Fawcett poster of 1976. Another icon too early lost.

Although these people make a lasting impression on us, the loss of someone close has a deeper effect. A couple of weeks ago I lost a good friend, Bill Hautop, with whom I played softball and racquetball. An energetic and vibrant man, Bill had a zest for life and was always ready to give a helping hand. Last year we attended his 50th wedding anniversary. Already by this time the ravages of a couple of massive heart attacks took its toll on this man.

All though my march to 70 has been eased by the discovery of my daily candy, this week proved extremely taxing for me. I learned a dear friend, Barbara Pernice, succumbed to widespread cancer. Barb and her husband, Sal, traveled extensively with us in the past. Always trim with and elegantly coiffed, she was a picture of beauty.

Barb had a penchant for using the facilities wherever we went. We kidded her – you must write a book about the W.C.’s [toilets] of Europe. “Well, Barb,” one of us would chide, “Gibraltor can be chapter 72.”

During what turned out to be her final weeks, I had a note on my desk at home to call them for a visit. As time would have it, I kept putting it off because of one thing or another. How bad I feel for not taking the time to see her. Barbara will be sorely missed by everyone who knew her.

Where is my candy for this day? It rests in my mind, it exists in the laughs we had, it is with the pleasurable times we shared. I will never forget her.

Ciao

On Getting Old -- 25

Some days the search for the daily candy is difficult. Today was one of them. Mom has been in a nursing home since the beginning of the month. During that time she has recovered immensely. She will never get back to living by herself, but she has become more aware of her surroundings, and we can carry on decent conversations.

As a family we discussed whether or not we should tell her that she would be staying at St. Matthew’s. We were afraid she would become more depressed. We decided to skirt the topic without outright lying to her.

During a recent visit she began to talk about her apartment. She asked me if she would be going back to her apartment. She kept pressing the issue, and as easy as possible I explained the necessity for her to remain at St. Matthew’s.

Surprising to me, she accepted the course. However, upon further discussion she continued to ask about her things, her ninety plus years of accumulations. Although we went through two downsizings, she still had a substantial amount of things.

I explained that everything was at my house, and we would share things with the family and sell what we could. Her head sagged to her breast. “All my things. What am I going to do?” she pleaded. Consoling her was difficult.

Softly she kept repeating, “My things. My things. What am I going to do?” Tears filled her eyes. Her last grasp to the outside world, to her past, was slipping away from her. Finally she asked me to leave. Before I left she whispered, “Thank you.”

On the way out the building I stopped to see the chaplain. The words I spoke did not easily leave my throat and tears filled my eyes, as I told Pastor Eileen of the conversation with my Mom. She promised to stop in to see Mom later.

My candy today was flavored with the salt of tears and didn’t taste much like candy. However, in retrospect I did help Mom with accepting the new path her life was winding down.

Mom's picture circ 1933
Mom and Dad's Wedding 1936

Ciao

On Getting Old -- 24

Today it poured rain, wouldn’t you know it. Today is the golf tournament from my old high school, Gordon Tech. Although I’d given up golf fifteen years ago, I agreed to meet with some of the old classmates at dinner.

Deciding not to go, I received a phone call from Danny, a friend from the past. He informed me that although the golfing was cancelled, the dinner was still a go. So I jumped into my car and headed for White Pines, the golf course. Sort of ironic, I thought, to drive to a golf course in driving rain storm.

A mile west of my home the weather cleared and the sun shined brightly. Terrific! Around Ohare Airport Mannheim Road was closed. Aha, I snuck through the rental car area to bypass the trouble spot. At the south end of the airport I decided to get back onto Mannheim. Wrong decision because I stopped at the bottom of the exit ramp unable to proceed.

After half an hour I called one of the guys, Phil – apparently in no pain – who told me the dinner was still on, and there were about ten of the guys who’d wait for me.

Finally I made it to the course where I found ten guys some of whom I had not seen in fifty years sitting around drinking beer – just like the old days. We sat around joking and kidding each other for the next couple of hours.

The end of this week was terrific. A second night with just the guys made the daily candy even sweeter.

Ciao

On Getting Old -- 23

The other day I went to a corn hole tournament sponsored by the St. Paul Men’s Club. What, you ask, is a corn hole tournament? That’s what I asked myself. Preceding the faithful day, e-mail messages flew through cyberspace asking for attendees to bring their boards because there might be a shortage. I scratched my head but looked forward to a night out with the “da guys”.

Pizza and beer flowed freely in the church parking lot, while the boards were set up. Well, the game was actually a bean bag toss. I could do that, I thought. My partner and I did well the first game but we lost the next two – a double elimination.

I stayed the rest of the evening joking with the guys and watched with fascination at the precision with which these men tossed those bean bags the thirty plus feet. A total entertaining evening.

The next day I “googled” corn hole. To my amazement corn holing is a widespread phenomenon and has been popular for a good number of years. I wondered where was I?

Anyway I found multiple pieces of candy this day. A night out with a bunch of guys is very rewarding these days. Seems that many of the get-togethers I go to have a predominance of women – a sign of the age. I compounded my daily pleasure by learning something I never heard of before – happy corn holing to all!

Ciao

On Getting Old -- 22

We watched a DVD the other night. The movie “Europa” released as “Zentropa” in 1991 won the Prix du Jury at Cannes Film Festival. The Danish director, Lars Von Trier, issued this movie as the final one in his Europa Trilogy – the first in 1984, “The Element of Crime” won a technical award at the Cannes that year. It was followed by “Epidemic” [1987].

We knew we were in for an unusual experience with “Europa”. The opening scene was that of railroad tracks viewed in the headlight of a fast moving train. The voice over was Max Von Sydow slowly counting and claiming “ …on the count of ten you will be in Europa.”

The movie switched from black and white to color. Some scenes were a composite of black and white with color in the background. Leopold Kessler, a young American, returns to post-war Germany [1945] seeking a job from his uncle, a conductor for the Zentropa Rail Line.

The protagonist, Leopold, tries to remain neutral in the dealings with passengers. He is persuaded to attend a party hosted by the owner of the railway and promptly falls in love with the owner’s daughter, Katharina Hartmann.

Kessler’s work on the train brings him in contact with “wehrwolves”.
[An aside—after watching the movie we researched the German werewolf and found they were a last ditch guerrilla organization of irregular German partisans.] This group tricked and coerced Kessler who tried to remain a ‘non-involved’ pacifist.

The journey was a surrealistic dream-like series of events. A most vivid scene involved a Jewish family returning from England to the rural town in Germany they called home. The wife does not want to go back, and the husband pleads with Leo to tell his wife everything is as it was in pre-war Germany. The train pulls away from the station with the family huddled together on a war devastated landscape.

The visions in this movie were haunting like a Kafka induced dream.

Today’s candy was twofold. First we watched a thought provoking movie – secondly, we learned something totally unknown. That of the resistance movement in Germany called the werewolves. So strange that I have lived nearly seventy years, grew up during the war years and never, ever heard the mention of this resistance movement.

Ciao