Southern Hospitality

During the early months of the Korean War, I was stationed at Camp Rucker, Alabama.  This post had been boarded up since the end of World War II. The only inhabitants in place were rattlesnakes, and there were plenty of them.

Rucker was just outside the little town of Ozark billed as “The Peanut Capital of the World”. There were few bright lights in Ozark.  Anything in the way of excitement called for getting over to the medium size city of Dothan. There was not much to do in Dothan either, although it did boast of being “The Home of the Early Bird”, a popular program on its radio station.

I have some pleasant memories of my time serving at   posts in Alabama, Louisiana and Georgia.  Many of them were centered around culinary delights such as barbecued shrimp, grits, biscuits and sausage gravy.  I also have some very unpleasant recollections of those months, starting with my first trip using public transportation when the driver yelled to me: “Hey soldier, you get up front now or this bus isn't going to move!” I quickly understood that my hoped-for spot in the rear was where the “colored” sat. Then in rapid fire notice: “Colored entrance”, “Colored fountain”, on and on. Sooner or later we all got the bigger message: There was White. There was Colored.

Flashing forward a half century, things have changed in a big way. Last week my wife and I were in Georgia to celebrate a granddaughter's wedding. In the dining room of our hotel blacks and whites intermingled for breakfast.  There was no fuss. Same in the swimming pool area. I am sure there are many reasons for modern-day Southern Hospitality, including legal ones.  But I suggest that “good manners” as we used to know them are also a big factor.  All across the board men are called “sir” and women addressed as “ma'am”.  Some may do so with fixed smiles and clenched teeth, but in the main the average person in the 2016 South seems to understand that it is just good business to be friendly and well mannered.

It's nice to be nice.  It benefits all of us.

Politics

Calvin Coolidge was president when I was born. (Mr. Coolidge is back in the news again as the last American president to visit Cuba prior to President Obama's forthcoming tour.) In any event I have seen many a politician come and go – although Franklin Delano Roosevelt took a lot more time in going. Could lessons learned in the political past enrich campaigning in 2016?

The world has spun around many times since “Silent Cal” was in the White House, I wonder if his legendary reluctance to speak out loud and often wouldn't be a good approach. Campaigning has become akin to food fighting in a high school cafeteria.  Bad manners, vulgarity and character assassination are ruling the platform. If we were to count the wordage on issues compared to the thunder of promises and negative comments, the picture is beyond sad. Perhaps speaking softly and carrying a big stick - like focusing exclusively on victory at primary polls – would impress us more than this angry in-your-face howling.  Bring back Cal!

We are months away - some would say an eternity away – before the actual election of our next president. It's reasonable to ask if we the people can survive the storm of television ads, robocalls at dinner and the 1001 other political intrusions on our time, attention and sanity.

The reality is that politicians, along with lawyers and used car salesmen, consistently compete for last place on the list of professions we respect and admire. It's not like we are being entertained by beauty contests, best movies or something else that people enjoy.

The political season is surely hell on earth.

Media Madness

America's favorite whipping boy is the media. Little doubt about that. On top of this, depending on where you are reading, listening or viewing, there is plenty of bias. In the interests of full disclosure, I have been a part of the media for a half century. This means I must be guilty one way or the other for at least part of the media mess. Frankly I do not recall any digressions, save perhaps the time I wrote in less than flattering terms about Frank Sinatra.  Our editor got a phone call in full gangster voice asking “where's this guy Reilly live?  I'm gonna punch him in the mouth.”

Now that we have posted the disclaimer may I ask you a couple of questions? What do you think of the efficiency and the ethics of modern day media? For starters, we have to acknowledge that the ownership of newspapers, magazines, radio and television stations, every other medium from cable to billboards and matchbook covers are in it to make a buck. Bad news usually suits that end. We, the receivers of the information communicated, may be happiest if all was well with the world, but that's not going to happen. There is always bad news somewhere. The media will go find it and tell us all about it. This helps to sell newspapers and air time.

I wonder if we wouldn't be better off if the media didn't report bad news over and over again. This applies particularly to cable news. They would be doing their job by reporting incidents once, but filling airtime with the same story repeatedly makes us feel we are in the midst of epidemics. The recent unfortunate killing of a black male by a policeman is sad news for sure. The facts must be thoroughly investigated. If the officer is guilty his badge and gun must immediately be turned in and a legal process initiated. But the media latch on to this incident and then dig up any cases across the country that appear on the face of it to be one and the same. Now we have a media-inspired impression that all police are targeting black males and routinely using deadly force 24/7 against this segment of our population. It's just not true.

Responsibility and accountability are two very valuable trusts that need to be reintroduced in our newsrooms. And to the general population as well.

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.