Where Did I Put It?

Just about everybody experiences the madness of misplacing an item. Car keys seem to be #1 in the ranking of these lost causes.  Trust me, dear reader, as the shadows lengthen these events will be turning up with greater frequency. They come along with your AARP card. You are in the company of many others.

There are some among us who feel that you can beat the odds by developing a “system” to find things.  For example, one pal says that he uses the “bureau top” approach, by placing virtually everything he owns on the surface of the furniture holding his socks, handkerchiefs and underclothes. He cautions that this system can only work for bachelors for “if you are married your wife will use the whole house as her bureau top.”

When my brothers and I were little kids our mother, a devout lady who practiced good deeds throughout her life, had us pray to St. Anthony, the Finder of Lost Things. (“St. Anthony, please come round; something is lost and must be found.”) When St. Anthony came through with a positive result it also served as a thunder clap over our heads to be good. I'm not saying each recovery was a miracle, but it only took one “find” to convince us.

Beyond my friend's “bureau top” approach, there is much to be said about “a place for everything and everything in its place.”  Simplicity and routine are critical ingredients to the “where did I put it?” dilemma. Keys on the table by the front door, credit cards in the wallet in your coat or purse – never loose in the jacket or pocketbook. As for your automobile, use the McGuirk Rule.

During my traveling days I shared many professional assignments with a gentleman named James McGuirk. Jim always wanted to be the driver, and that was okay. But he consistently forgot where he parked our rental cars. Not so good. One evening after I retired for the evening, McGuirk came back from a little night life in San Diego. To avoid a problem this time, he pulled the car right up to the main entrance of the Hilton hotel, got out and locked it up. Next morning chaos reigned with guests trying to check out, taxicab service, etc. But the principle is still valid.  Park your own car out front and lock it up.

Just be sure you're not at a Hilton.

Thomas & Friends…And Me

Even in our Sunshine State there is rain. With due respect to the folks in Edina, Minnesota, who have to hunker down from ice, wind and snow, we too have to run for cover when clouds burst over Florida. Happily when I recently found myself indoors channel-surfing, I came across a cartoon series titled “Thomas & Friends.”

Nowadays, Thomas & Friends is familiar to every little boy and girl in kindergarten. Certainly so by the time they graduate in their caps and gowns (!) Still the series remained more or less unknown to those of us of a certain age who came along well before there was kindergarten, let alone television. So I'm glad I found Thomas for now I too am one of his friends. The history of this British/Canadian/American cartoon program reads like a detective story, far too tortured a path to follow.  I'm not sure all that matters.  It is far more important to locate the listing in your TV Guide, then tune in.

Thomas & Friends teaches evergreen lessons not just for little boys and girls but for people of all ages, parents especially.  In addition there are great production values. (Even cartoon figures in the background have detail and movement.) A welcome respite from the endless cut and paste versions we are fed in the endless parade of imported junk that drains any sense of believability from story lines.

Without being patronizing, Thomas & Friends retrieves cherished standards of yesteryear.  Viewers learn the importance of “Thank you”, ”Please”, helping others, not taking credit that belongs to another, apologizing for making mistakes, and a raft of other examples. All of which flow naturally from the adventures facing Thomas and his companions. There are singable songs that accompany footage that nicely ties the cartoons to the real world.

To be sure there is a bit of Britain that is not familiar to most American ears.  Terms like “Sir” and “Madame” pop up in place of “you guys” or “me and him”.  That said, I suggest you try it.  I'm certain you will like it.

Antisemitism

Sometimes words are simply not enough. They fell way short of expressing our disgust, fury, hurt and outrage when the news came along that Jewish cemeteries are being vandalized in Philadelphia. Yes, that such a thing would happen in my old hometown is an additional wound, but that it would happen anywhere in our country is the point.

None of us is perfect, that's for sure. It is probably true that we all carry bias of some sort in our make-up.  But our better angels manage to keep such demons under control, until they don't.

As a young Army officer I was sent to Germany as part of the United States Occupation Forces. World War II had ended short years before so there was no shooting or open hostility, but anger bubbled just beneath the surface. My assignment to an orientation program in Munich overlapped a weekend so, knowing that the Dachau concentration camp was somewhere in the area, I set out to visit that site. My experience was a searing one; it still remains fresh in my mind.

Unlike today where the death camp at Dachau is a “tourist attraction” in my time it was anything but. The camp was deserted save one single care keeper, a thin, bedraggled older gentleman who pressed a very modest booklet into my hand. We had to wear our uniforms when off duty back then and he was uncomfortable in my presence. Dachau then was much closer in appearance to its years of infamy than it is to today's well-scrubbed site with throngs of visitors. That day was gray, damp with drizzling rain. I went into the gas chamber where supposedly inmates were to shower. Tiled from top to bottom with a triangular opening at the top. Claustrophobic. And the sickening physical fear that someone would close the door where I entered and I would never get out. The opening up top was to provide the lethal chemicals that would snuff out so many lives crawling the walls and screaming in unheard fear and agony. Then to the crematorium where bodies were pushed into flaming ovens. I remember standing at attention and saluting, tears running down my cheeks. There was nothing else I could do then, and but one thing I can do now. 

Which is to remind you that horror really did exist in our past and it does right now. Antisemitism is part of it that horror.

Airports

If I never get on another airplane, that will be okay with me.  I am not afraid of flying, but simply have had enough of 30,000 feet in the air. Been there, done that so many, many times. No doubt part of my negativism has to do with today's airport scene, best described as serial aggravation.

When I do have to go to an airport nowadays, it's because I have to drop off or pick up family members or close friends. That said, all is not lost for it IS possible to have bright moments when waiting for arrivals. This is especially true if you are a “people-watcher” as I am.  It is both a learning lesson in civic behavior and an indictment of our manners. 

My colleague, David M, says I actually watched Wilbur and Orville run up and down the sandy hills of Kitty Hawk launching that slight bird they flew into the history books. Not quite, but I was airborne the day of the 50^th Anniversary of Air Canada; how many decades ago was that? Glamour in flying is long gone of course. “Sardines in the Sky” is more like it as we get jammed into our silver cans ready for the wild blue yonder.

As for observing the Great American Public in airports, the first thing you notice is how fashion has become so unfashionable. It is light years different from the days when going up in an airplane was a combination of adventure and social event. People dressed if not in their “Sunday Best” something akin to that. (Hats and gloves were de rigeuer for the ladies back then.) Of course Sunday Best today means Less Grunge than the other days of the week.  “Dressing up” is of interest solely to historians.

Today's traveler places comfort above all. Sweat suits are in, even as showering is passe for many. Smiles are few. Best to put on your game face and be prepared for the frustrations coming your way. Seats are shrinking in size even as we ourselves expand. Knowing full well that there are no complimentary meals aloft, chow down before you board a plane. A sizable number of fliers prefer copious onions & garlic on their pre-boarding pizza. And hey, that's one reason why sweat suits are so in. Who would take the time to notice a tomato streak or barbecue splash on sweats when your very survival depends on getting away from that breath?

One of the true joys of flying in yesterday's skies had to do with the professionalism of stewardesses who were well trained, attractive and highly courteous. Today's “flight attendants” are underpaid, overworked and put-upon at every level. If you can do one positive thing to make up for all this, it would be to save one of your few smiles for them. You might even add “it's nice to see you” if you are pretty sure she won't faint from hearing a good word coming her way.

We can't change the whole messed up system with one smile, but it's a start and will surely brighten her day.

Another Look at Television

The late broadcaster Bill McCarter had a knack for spotting emerging talent.  In the early 1970s McCarter called me to identify one such named Brent Musburger, who was relatively unknown outside of Chicago and a few points west.

The other night I watched Musburger, nowadays very well known, calling his last basketball game. As usual he was a comfortable pal to be around, near or far. Brent loves sports, and because he usually knows what he's talking about, he enriched whatever game we were watching. There are some very positive things about TV. Brent Musburger was one of them.

Still the negatives about television are staggering.  Violence on the tube is overwhelming. Take another look yourself at the near-endless killings, explosions and mayhem that abounds. What can this possibly be worse for our minds, young minds especially? Some programs that purport to be “discussions” of issues are just more of the same.  Did you ever take a peek at the garbage that Maury Povich, Jerry Springer and their ilk serve up day by day?  Add to the mix Hollywood movies dominated by car chases, computer generated destruction, explicit sex, vulgarity beyond vulgarity. To the damage that television mayhem does to our own most precious resource, our children, add the fact that our product is exported all around the world. No wonder the image of our culture is so dismal overseas. You don't have to torture yourself, but please be aware of the extent of the damage being done.

Television is the primary influence in our time. TV, all by itself, is responsible for social change, more than all the legislation ever written.  You really can't change minds by writing laws. People will do what they want to do, one way or the other. Case in point are the advertising commercials depicting the races. It started with white men and women being socially linked with those of other races – usually a Hispanic, Hawaiian or other lighter skinned individuals, then as couples, then as parts of a mixed family. Gradually, and in a relatively short span of time, black and whites jointly filled roles previously restricted to the members of the same race.  So too with same sex couples. You are certainly entitled to your own opinion on whether this is good or bad, but the fact is changes in society have been caused by television. Again, the point is to be aware of this powerful impact.   

With our country being in such turmoil, real news versus fake news and countless opinions bombarding us day and night, each of us has to take personal responsibility for sorting it all out. Our own ethical compass and common sense are just about all we have. Not an easy task, for sure.  But we can't farm it out to any others, can we?     

Challenges

Each of us will be facing challenges in this new year.  Some great, some small.  But a challenge is still a challenge.

I have one challenge right before my eyes. It calls for immediate action.  Simply put: How do I arrange the remaining pieces of Bridge Mix in the glass container so that they appear untouched by human hand? Joan has a eagle eye for detail.  A small thing you say, but it still represents a domestic hurdle. Worse, the unfailing lie-detector, our bathroom scale, is right nearby to betray me.

Nothing so motivates an erring husband than a weight-conscious wife reacting in horror when that damn scale indicated she has gained a pound over the Christmas holidays. Hell hath no fury like a woman facing an upward number. While one pound is not a make or break deal in my eyes, my eyes are not her eyes. I'll try not to beat this to death, but a spouse provides a ready-made target for venting. Especially when he has been repeatedly warned to cut down on the suds and cookies that magically appear with Christmas. Not for nothing is it called “comfort food.”  And Yes, I am very comfortable.

Alas, in the real world, bridge mix and cookies can only take me (and you) so far. There are crushing sights and sounds all around us. Sadness and despair everywhere. And since “this world” happens to be our world, we are all in one big lifeboat together. Of course we can simply give up, but that option doesn't appeal to me, nor I suspect, does it work for most people. So now I have a game plan and it's much more than another soon-to-be-forgotten New Year's Resolution. Every morning I will thank God for the blessings that have been showered on me and mine.  At the end of the day, I'll review the ups and downs to see how things went since breakfast.  A report card of sorts.  Where should I have done better?  And especially, did I do anything to help another person in facing his or her challenges?

As I'm reading over what I've just written to you, I understand my words do not appear profound. On the other hand if each of us did something like this, perhaps we could meet challenges more effectively. At a minimum we'll know we have been challenging challenges.       

The Passing Parade of 2016

At the end of a year the media traditionally lists notable deaths from the preceding 12 months. 2016 was no exception. Most of us feel a connection of some sort – usually from afar - to many of the deceased. My own memories of the departed were a subjective bag of near and far. 

Ali – Muhammud was a passer-by when we were changing planes. He liked people. Maybe he understood that a short Irishmen deserved a nod and a big smile to brighten his day. In any event that's just what he gave me. Muhammud disappointed by refusing to serve his country in uniform, still, let's credit The Champ for being loyal to his beliefs.                                

Jim Clements – a near-legend in the publishing industry and lover of all sports, he played many of them with excellence. Clements lived in Darien, Connecticut, but his heart was always in Manhattan. No one loved The Big Apple more than Big Jim.

Bud Collins, for decades we showed up at the big tennis tournaments, he dressed in outfits that blistered our eyeballs. Bud brought tennis out of the private clubs to be viewed by the masses via TV. He was a great reporter and actually a pretty good tennis player.

Bob Elliott had an office with Ray Goulding in the Graybar building during my days at J. Walter Thompson. Radio was the perfect medium for that duo, a highlight for me were reports from that peerless correspondent, Wally Ballou.

Joe Garagiola was one of the first professional athletes who switched seamlessly from sports to broadcasting.  In those days he was with NBC while I was flacking for TV Guide magazine so we walked the same corridors.

Zsa Zsa Gabor reigned over a half century that included Mae West, Dagmar, Jayne Mansfield and Dolly Parton. Zsa Zsa was a trifecta with perennial sex appeal, humor and a delightful accent that became more pronounced with the passing years even as she amassed a record-breaking number of husbands.

John Glenn whom we admired from very, very, far away was the former Marine Corps fighter pilot who made us all proud by his pioneering adventures in space.

Kitty Kallen an ex-Big Band singer from Philly who staged a career comeback with a top selling recording of “Little Things Mean a Lot”. Her uncle was a medical doctor I admired very much. She dated a pal of mine who was some years her junior.

Julius LaRosa – I remember when this young sailor came on the scene singing for Arthur Godfrey.  And certainly recall Godfrey firing him because “he lacked humility.” What an irony coming from a master egomaniac. Julie had the last laugh however as he was still rolling along singing his songs decades after Godfrey had passed on.

John McLaughlin long before his years as a controversial talk show moderator, John-John was a rebellious Jesuit priest in Manhattan driving the Archbishop nuts.  He valued my counsel (!) as to the proper angle he should wear his homburg.

Gardner Mulloy a tennis idol of mine who remained 39 years of age almost forever. When Mulloy passed on he was well over 100 but still under 40.

Hugh O'Brian former Marine turned television hero who made a wholesome star out of Wyatt Earp who in real life was no paragon of virtue.

Arnold Palmer – even if you are not a golfer (that's my group) you knew his name and admired this man. Way beyond his accomplishments on the links, he left a legacy of personal graciousness for everyone who came in contact with him.

Nancy Reagan  when Joan and I met her at The White House she was far from the cool and distant image so often portrayed in the media. She endured years of negativism and ultimately triumphed as a charming, courageous and caring lady.

Debbie Reynolds – you can like a screen personality for that alone. We never met her, but Debbie played that likable girl next door for more than 60 years after “Singing in the Rain.” It worked for us.

Grant Tinker – I suspected his marriage was on the rocks when I spotted him in Grand Central night after night scarfing Uneeda hot dogs when the rest of us were going home to Connecticut. Grant was that rare bird who actually changed television programming for the better.

Morley Safer  chatting with him between airline departures, I wondered about that bassett hound look which masked his charm, finally deciding he was overworked and dead tired.

Kay Starr – a long time Big Band singer who took another turn in the spotlight with her recording of “Wheel of Fortune”. That song was played endlessly in tribute to two of her relatives who were in my Army detachment serving in blistering hot Texas.

Pat Summit – The all-time winning basketball coach, male or female, and role model for her personal fight against disease even as she led her teams on the court. Never met the coach, but watched her on TV time and again. She was truly inspirational.

William H. “Bill” Wilson – with his dashing good looks and outgoing personality, Wilson was the epitome of the gentleman/sports figure. A national squash champion many times over, he was a class act in victory or defeat.

P.S. To read more of my columns on “View from the Observation Deck”, please click on: http://in-personcommunications.com/our-team/charles-reilly/