Picking a Best Friend

Most of us know a lot of people. Within that gang of faces stands a smaller group. We call members of this smaller group “friends”. Then there is a handful – literally you can count them on one hand – that is much harder to classify.  I guess you could call them “best friends,” but that description may not fit easily. 

One of my own handful of these special people passed on earlier this morning.  He was a military man, a sailor to be precise, so we would clock his departure time at 0830hrs. My personal challenge is not to look at those who remain in the larger friends group and pick a replacement. That's just not the way it works. No one could ever replace Sweeney. So how does one go about picking a man or woman for the small handful? Simply put, I don't know. If you have an insight, please do share it with me.

After fighting through the shock of sudden loss, I thought about this challenge, and more importantly, what makes us consciously or unconsciously select a compatible man or a woman to walk by our side? I don't think it is the very same criteria we use in figuring out who would be our best bet as a spouse. No way.  We are surrounded by couples that would never in a million years move the odds in a betting parlor. Those of us who lucked out in the marriage sweepstakes know all too well that cupid and his damn bow and arrows were consistently outplayed by forces beyond our, and anyone else's comprehension.

Jack Sweeney was successful in the business world as well as in the United States Navy where he went rose in rank from seaman to Rear Admiral. He was the epitome of God, Love of Country and Family.  I should add that Family was his guiding star right after he married a pretty tennis-playing girl from Wawa, Pennsylvania, which was pretty much Indian country in my own day.

Best friends are best friends.  It's that simple.  Sweeney can never be duplicated.  Nor should he be.  Best Friends are unique, different one from the others. They are selected by the Best Friends Gods who factor in mutual interests and a huge helping of trust in each other.

You know very well who your own best friends are. You are lucky to have them.  And they are lucky to have you.   

Charitable Giving

Christmas time is a time of stress. Forget about those chestnuts roasting in an open fire.  There is even more roasting in store for harassed parents – the mothers in particular, but for everyone. But be of good cheer, it could still be worse.

Those who retain some memory of what Christmas really represents have a leg up here. We remember what it's supposed to be about. For all others, well let's just say we hope their holidays are happy while we ”keep them in our prayers.” There is the treasured bit about “it is better to give than to receive.” All retailers embrace this one, and to be fair, so do most of us.  At least theoretically. Now along come the telemarketers. You know, those recorded voices that come along every time you are sitting down to eat dinner. They have successfully aligned themselves with the United States Postal Service to insure that worthy causes are ever on your mind. Are they ever.

Without question there are needy souls in this world.  There are certainly causes that deserve our energies and dollars.  If you have had cancer, or have a relative or friend inflicted by this curse of curses, how could you not support the drive to cure it?  If you are a veteran how can you turn your back on the Wounded Warrior project?  There are charities and programs that truly deserve our commitment. So, why would there be a problem with charitable giving?

The answer lies in loopholes and lack of a central clearing house for legitimate causes. We are inundated with pleas for charitable giving.  The “No Call” listing that was meant to protect our private phone numbers specifically exclude charities. Add that to an array of similar-sounding charities.  You may get a plea from “Fight Cancer/Your Town” then one from “Your Town Cancer Campaign”, followed by “South/Your Town Cancer Fund” and one or two others. Repeated Cancer telephone solicitations leave you with a bad taste about the worthwhile fight against this dread disease.  It is counter-productive for the charity involved.

In our house, like countless others, we are sensitive to the needs of the less fortunate.  We don't have an iron-clad game plan but ours does include some steps starting with caller ID and not taking any phone calls during meals. We NEVER give out credit card information or make any sort of commitment via telephone, insisting on receiving solicitations by mail (and we do not give out our address if they don't already have it.)

Charity really does begin at home, notably in trying to preserve our sanity.

Great Acting

You don't have to go to the theater district to see great acting. No sirree, it's right there on your television screen and it's free. Football is the new Palace for thespians.

                           

Football games provide a rare combination of sports action and show biz entertainment. Bone crushing mayhem followed by self-centered celebratory prancing in the end zone. In between the danger and the dancing there are moments when very big bodies pile one upon another in a human pyramid. Most often this leaves participants happily out of breath, but I should mention too that real injury sometimes happens to the hapless one on the very bottom.

                          

Like a lot of fans I've been there in-person to see a number of truly great heroes play the game. It's a fact that there is no substitute for being there. And through the magic of television any number of stars and near-stars bring their athleticism right into sports bars and our living rooms every week. Most of us have seen a lot of football but we surely wish we could have seen the real life legends like Jim Thorpe play in their heyday. That goes as well for Red (“The Galloping Ghost”) Grange whose exploits we view from time to time on old black and white footage straight from the collector's vault.

                        

As far as penalties assessed during a football game, plaintive calls of “I didn't do it” usually fall on official ears that do not hear. There is something sad about a 230 pound player feigning innocence like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. While hundreds of thousands of us out here on the couches saw it all, and will see it again on the replay, it doesn't seem to register with our actor-on-the-field that all other eyes say you did do it. I have a mental picture of the late Dom DeLuise prancing along the sidelines singsonging “liar, liar, pants on fire.”

                         

You need a program to tell the players apart.  It's a genealogist's nightmare out there. We are used to seeing “Jr.” on a player's jersey. Then came “III”, which was okay. But now it's “IV” or “V.” As the Boston Red Sox great “Big Papi” reflected: “Who's Your Daddy?”

                         

All ex-jocks share the dream of suiting up one more time to take the punt and score the winning touchdown. And to top it off Jim Nantz will be there doing the television commentary. Hopefully without Phil Simms (“You're right, Jim, “I agree with you, Jim” “I see it that way too, Jim”) as his sidekick in the booth on that glorious day.

Dining In, Going Out

In addition to blue skies, sparkling ocean and miles of sugar sand beaches, Florida presents one and all with blocks and blocks of great restaurants. Our population down here includes large numbers of Jewish, Hispanic, Italians and Germans along with other groups. It's virtually impossible not to please your palate, no matter what your taste. Access to 24/7 fresh fish dining is simply outstanding.

                                           

So, shall we dine in or go out for the next meal?  It's not as easy as you might expect. Here's an example: I am an Eggs Benedict fanatic, but one can only have so many Bennies at breakfast without risking a trip to the coronary wing of the hospital. A lighter fare at home makes sense from time to time. So too for lunch and dinner. My wife makes certain meals that are also available in restaurants, but nowhere near as tasty. Not to mention the shot my credit card takes whenever we dine out.                                            

                                           

Dinner is another challenge.  At the end of a long day it is certainly easier to stay at home. A lot of dining out, or not, has to do with our (especially my) age group.  Younger folk may well prefer the socializing of meeting/greeting other folks. My wife and I had plenty of that when we were younger; been there, done that. Also (although it's not yet Valentine's Day) there’s a lot to be said for enjoying the exclusive company of your spouse. When we do go out, we have long embraced The Early Bird sitting. That's not for saving a buck, for I don't recall that we ever ordered one of the special selections on the menu. Our reason for going early has to do with the simple fact that the restaurants are less crowded at that time. Besides, any saving on an EB course is always offset by the wine and beer that accompanies it.

                                             

Sunsets in Florida are magnificent. Sunrises too, although I've never knocked back a Heineken at dawn, enjoying cocktails overlooking the ocean as the sun goes down surely enhances dining. I can't do that back in Philadelphia.

                                              

However, in defense of The City of Brotherly Love, I should say that nowhere in Florida, or anywhere else for that matter, is it possible to enjoy a truly delicious legitimate cheesesteak like you can scarf down at Pat's, Jim's, Geno's or Nudy's. Then too there's Taylor Pork Roll and Habersett's Scrapple.

                                              

Pardon me for a moment. It's time to check out the refrigerator. 

Pope Discovers USA

More accurately, the USA discovers the Pope.  By any standard the Bishop of Rome man is unique, and uniquely gifted to touch the hearts of people. The operative word here may well be “touch”. For his hands-on embrace of one and all from infants to criminals was nothing short of awesome.

No doubt his talks with the high and mighty presented us, time and again, with a global view that was compassionate. How different that was from the vulgar food fight that passes for political campaigning here in our own time and place. Most of all however, it was in the everyday word and gesture that Pope Francis brought home the place of our personal responsibility to right the wrong that surrounds us. I have been blessed to know well the sites where the shoes of this fisherman trod from Vatican City to his six days here – New York, Washington, Philadelphia (including St. Charles Borromeo seminary, named after my “patron saint”.) They are impressive one and all.  Yet it was on the highways and byways where the spirit of goodness shone most brightly. From Fifth Avenue, Central Park, Fairmont Park. Simple gestures, caring embraces. Indeed, to borrow from the late communications guru, Marshall McLuhan, who first pronounced “the medium is the message”, the Holy Father showed us all that “the messenger is the message”.

                                      

How long will this “Francis feeling” last?  Who's to know? Each of us must choose to open our own hearts to the call.  Or we can ignore it all together, and return to the same old pedestrian back-biting that symbolizes our pursuit of the bigger cars and larger houses that symbolize our American Dream of more and more dollars.

What about me? I will answer the Pope's request to “pray for me”  and by doing so, lift up my own game by living a better life, trying to remove the many prejudices that weight on my tired old body and soul.

And what about you?  Well, if you feel inclined to remember me in your own prayers, that would be very welcome.                          

10 S N E 1

10 S N E 1, or as first spoken in a play on the Broadway stage by the late Humphrey Bogart, “Tennis Anyone?”

In the midst of this year's U S Open Tennis Championships my mind drifted to my love affair with this great game. My span from 1948 to 2015 is one long haul. I have certainly enjoyed the trip, every minute of it.

There is always a lot of chatter about “enjoying playing”. Rightfully so.  Dollars are one thing, but busting your chops for something that you really do not enjoy could make you certifiable. When a man or woman gets involved with tennis it becomes a habit for a lifetime, one that is very hard to break. Today's game is played at a level light years away from that of 1948.  Equipment innovations have been breath-taking and the physical demands on players is well beyond anything dreamed of in yesteryear. Back then many a racketeer took to the courts with what can best be described as “discomfort”. This code word for excruciating headaches, a body's general revolt against running around smacking balls under a blistering sun were direct results of the “social” whirl that encompassed tennis. Cocktails the night before with partying till dawn were sure to be followed by more of the same after the last ball was struck. This country club mentality dominated the tennis world in the first half of the last century. But then time marched on.

I started out as a college tennis team manager, graduated to playing status and then embarked on a decades long career as a tennis official. The era I most enjoyed was when the U.S. Nationals were held at Forest Hills, NY, where the West Side Tennis Club hosted play on wonderful grass courts. The whole environment was conducive to good manners on the part of players, press and spectators. Plenty of fine memories (and a few bruises when calling the center service line because I couldn't move fast enough to dodge the blistering serve of Pancho Gonzales.) Walking the grounds between matches you could see, and talk to, the greats of the game – Rod Laver, Ken Rosewall, John Newcomb, John McEnroe, dozens more.

My pal Brooks Keffer and I used to take the train from Philadelphia in the morning to officiate at the matches, eat and drink our weight in sumptuous buffet and a waterfall bar then return at the end of the day to the City of Brotherly Love. Tennis umpires were paid $8 a day. If we had that kind of dough back then we would have gladly paid the tournament many times over for those memorable hours in the sun.

The 2015 U.S. Tennis Open will long be remembered for many things, most especially for the upset of Serena William, perhaps the greatest of all sports champions. But memorable as well for unprecedented player injuries and a record-breaking number of smashed rackets.

Trust me, Serena will be back. Not so the rackets.

Graduating to a Job Search

Do you remember when you finished high school and had to look for a summer job?  It was a challenging chapter in a young life.

Fast forward - the 2015 marketplace for newly graduated men and women is like reading a mystery novel.  How will it all end?

My own view is today's job search is tougher than yesterday's was for a number of reasons, starting with the applicant him/herself.  Our youngsters these days are accustomed to having it pretty good, certainly compared with those who experienced periods of economic depression or recession. These decades of economic well-being coupled with changes in society that favor a more “laid back” approach to life make for a powerful incentive to bank the fire in one's belly. Parents, let alone grandparents, simply don't recognize the present when thinking back to their own time when striving for success was part of one's DNA. Only when actually applying for a job does real-world shock set in. Sometimes it can be brutal.

High school years were arguably the best times of our lives.  You were still under the parental roof where room and board came with few if any burdens, including access to the family car if there was one.  Those who enjoyed such a life were fortunate indeed. There were plenty of youngsters who did not have such good fortune but they were largely out of sight to the fortunate ones.

What's going on with job search these days?  The waiting line for almost any job is a long one. In the pack of applicants are those who already have experience or have college degrees, plus there is the new wrinkle of older folks reentering the work force having both of the above.

Do your homework on the company for which you are interviewing. First impressions are vital – firm handshake, eye contact, relate how you made a difference in your academic and part-time jobs. Above all, convey a desire to be part of a winning team.

Good luck, graduates.  Welcome to the real world.