New Year's Eve in the Fast Lane

Unless they move the start of New Year's to about 10 PM there is virtually no possibility that I will be awake to celebrate the first moments of 2019. Honestly, I don't drink champagne, haven't been a hard partier since, well truth be known, maybe never and, being an official senior citizen for a while now, have a license to go to sleep anytime after dinner is served.

For the past several years I have spent the early evening of December 31st bowling. More than half a century ago I was in a bowling league at Feibel's in my hometown. Three games and bowling shoes for $1. My cousin Larry and I also bowled every Sunday after Hebrew school. Our reward for not having a fake stomach ache Sunday mornings.

I once bowled 257, but now, a half century later, it would take a bigger miracle than God parting the Red Sea for Moses for me to break 200. My ball travels down the alley so slowly I fear it will bounce off the pins and head back to me in mocking display. My back is tight, my shoulder hurts if I lift my arm too high and this year my twisted knee is added to the laundry list of excuses. One game is about my limit, although maybe I can be coaxed into a second.

The real star of our annual gathering is the son of one of the three families of friends who share this night. He is in his late 20's and has a love for this undertaking that I did not, even on those Sundays after Hebrew school. He bowls every Monday evening and, I think, may have broken 200 on one occasion. And, oh by the way, he is autistic. 

The tradition we started, mainly to accommodate our young companion's passion for this sport, has become just about the most fun way I could imagine to cast off the old and welcome the new. About as far away from tweets as one can escape in today's universe. Worried only whether I can throw anything heavier than a 10 pound ball, walking from lane to lane to see if my fingers properly fit into anything light enough for me to roll at an agonizingly slow pace towards the pins that seem to be gathered together laughing at my feeble efforts.

I think Feibel's burned down decades ago. I do not recall what eventually was constructed on this site, but I am certain it was not another .

Our present bowling establishment is now on the market for four million dollars. At that price, I think we will still be coming here next year.

Many, many summers ago our family was on vacation. It was a rainy afternoon and we spent most of it at a local alley. I did so well that, as we finished, one of the people working there asked if I lived in the area and wanted to join their league. Trust me when I tell you that will not happen this year.

So I will begin another New Year's Eve preening at the occasional strike, agonizing when I miss a spare by an infinitessmally small margin, commenting how expensive this undertaking has become and remembering my past glories at Feibel's. 

I am especially excited this year because I heard there is a new place to eat at the alley that is supposed to have decent food. I wonder if their fries can compare with Feibel's. For, as far as I am concerned, there is nothing more satisfying then eating greasy French fries with dirty fingers while in the middle of a particularly mediocre game of bowling. 

Now that would make for an absolutely perfect New Year's Eve.

Dewey Beats Truman, Part Two

("U.S. Stocks Tumble, Riding the Roller Coaster Back Down")

So the Dow just closed UP 258 points today.

Trying to analyze the why's and wherefore's of the stock market arrhythmia is like trying to catch the wind in your hand. It is an impossibility.

Did the "warning signs" about the economy that caused the Dow to drop more than 500 points by lunch suddenly disappear in the afternoon?

Your headline looks like a Dewey beats Truman moment. My suggestion is that your paper (indeed any publication) refrain from mid-day proclamations regarding the health of a product that seems to provide perfect definition to the word volatile.

PS - Your headline, as of 4:30 PM, now reads : "Stocks Rise, as Wall Street's Roller Coaster Stages Late Day Rally"

Promises Not to Keep - My New Year's Non-Resolution

You say you want a resolution. Well-ell you know we all want to change the world.

I don't have any New Year's resolutions this time around. Not that I don't need a barrel full, as I am a poster child of imperfections:

1) being of little to no assistance to my beleaguered wife in even the most basic of life's responsibilities

2)  doing almost nothing to take care of my aging and breaking down body

3) spending far, far too much of my day staring at my cell phone hoping my latest blog post will somehow capture the attention of more than a handful of the very bored, or begging the stock market to inform me it is quite ok to retire now

4) despite my best intentions to devote myself with as much energy as possible to lessening the plight of those whose lives have taken a decidedly hard turn, doing little more than spending as much energy as possible advising everyone I intend to devote myself with as much energy as possible to assisting those whose lives have taken a decidedly hard turn

5) grousing endlessly about the deplorable state of our political union,  announcing my distaste with the President and his party and then taking absolutely no steps to change anything

I hardly read books, I do not listen well enough to what others are saying, I basically just spend my days in an endless daze.

So why you may ask (if you managed to read this far) would I not at least focus on one of these deficiencies and resolve to make a change for the better?  

Because of all my shortcomings, the worst is my laziness. Why do today what you can talk about doing tomorrow? And while Shakespeare might speak of our tomorrows creeping at a petty pace, my resolve is far slower than that. In fact it is non-existent.

So why waste the energy this year promising to do what I have not done before, or worse, making a feeble effort to do what I said I would do and then failing miserably to follow through? It is that failure which is the real issue, the disappointment in myself for not meeting my self stated expectations, the true quicksand of my life.

And so, if I have no goals for the coming year, then I will not fall short, I will not have that gnawing pain eating at me. I will be at peace. 

So my wish for all of you this year is that you do not make the same mistake I have in the past. That you come to the same inevitable conclusion as I have. That you free up your tomorrow's to do all the wrong things that you are going to do anyway, only now insulated from the promises you knew deep in your heart you would never maintain.

I have now decided I have a resolution this year after all. To spread the gospel of the non-resolution. But I fear I am far too lazy to do even that. So just forget that promise. I could never keep it.

You say you'll change my constitution.
Well-ell you know, you better free your mind instead.

Donald Trump, You're Fired

At the conclusion of each episode of The Apprentice, Donald Trump would appear as the hand of God, the Deus ex Machina, to pronounce sentence on the losers. "You're fired" was a statement of ultimate control and unassailable power which, in many ways, acted as the principal catalyst for Mr. Trump's presidency.

James Mattis did the unthinkable, humiliating the President with his letter of resignation, castigating him for his pronounced deficiencies and total misunderstanding of the appropriate role of America and it's military forces. For Donald Trump, he of remarkably fragile ego and paper thin skin, this was the most unforgivable of all sins. And so, Mr. Mattis has now been let go even after he has quit.

Mr. President, no matter how you attempt to reshape the landscape, you have been the one summarily dismissed, a spectacular five starred failure as the apprentice to Mr. Mattis. 

Donald Trump, you're fired.

Twas the Night Before Christmas - All Was Silent in Our House

Twas the night before Christmas and the House was shut down
Thanks to the tweets of one orange faced clown

Must have my wall need five billion now

Just get it for me, I don't really care how

So he rants and he pouts and throws quite a fit

While we sit and we sit and then we just sit

A nation in limbo as Christmas time nears

Not a nation in peace but a land filled with fears

On this holiday Santa's not in the skies

He's replaced by an ogre and his orange faced lies

While those in the House have gone to their homes

All remains silent in the Capitol Dome

So Santa and Rudolph and all the reindeer

Are saddened and quietly shed a few tears

The chimneys are still, the stockings all bare

But the orange faced man he just doesn't care

In our nation's capital at this festive time

There now is occurring a terrible crime

The man who stole Christmas is ruling the land

With a terrible, awful, very bad hand

But if Santa exists then here is our wish

Please serve it at dinner as our favorite

dish

Build Donald that wall as tall as you can

As long as it keeps out one orange faced man

Twas the Night Before Christmas in Donald's House

Twas the night before Christmas, all snug in their beds,
'Cept a creature in DC, with a strange orange head

His fingers were moving, the tweets coming fast

Recounting the names of those from his past

Gone Ayers and Zinke, from A right through Z

Gone Comey and Cohn, who start with a C

So long Sessions and Spicer, those two with an S

And Scaramucci, as bad as the rest

Bye Bannon, adieu Pruitt, au revoir to Hicks

No more Kelly or Priebus, of whom he'd grown sick

And Powell, Price and Porter, some more with a P

McGahn and McMaster, those two with Mc

Tillerson and Flynn, both now cast asunder

Last not least, Mattis, departed with thunder

These but a few of the many now gone

The bad list of Donald goes on and on

And this Christmas eve, no screams in their ears

Just the sweet sound of silence, no Donald near

They all will give thanks he is nowhere in sight

But a nightmarish dream, just one ugly night

For those now arriving to take their new seat

Just remember tomorrow you'll be taking some heat

So this night before Christmas, sleep tight in your bed

But you'll wake in the morn to a tweet in your head

A Crumbling Foundation

("Trump Foundation to Dissolve, Accused of 'Shocking Pattern of Illegality")

It is not as if the problem is one of blurred lines with Mr. Trump. It is that the lines are non existent.

When it is all about him when the benefit must flow directly to him, everything that Mr. Trump touches and that touches him is directed by his own predispositions and predilections.

Campaign finance laws, charitable foundation mandates, conflicts of interest, all these are rules which do not apply when the universe begins and ends with one very flawed human being.

Donald Trump has lived his existence reshaping the landscape to fit his vision, refusing to adhere to the dictates of a structured and regulated society. In his personal life and business practices, he has been dedicated to the sole proposition that what is good for him is good enough.

Only, under scrutiny, it is not. And scattered in his wake are broken promises, broken laws and broken lives. 

Staring At My Cardboard Box - Home(less) for the Holidays

There's a darkness that covers my heart

That suffocates and strangles me 

That blinds me to the light

And tells me that I can't be what I can be

Sitting on the corner of here and nowhere

Staring at my cardboard box

Trying to catch a glimmer of a dream

Each day another blow in a life of hard knocks

There's a shadow that won't let me be

A ghost that grabs at each breath

And yet hope still resides in my soul

Telling me I'm not done yet

As I look out on the blank stares

The empty eyes blocking the sun

I refuse to lay here and disappear

For I know there are races to be run

It seems I have spent my whole life

   With a song that I never could share

   I can't remember a day

   Where I was ever really somewhere

   

   Where I was really somewhere

   Where the trees were ever in bloom

   Where there was somewhere to go

   Except here in my cardboard room

  Where the darkness did not cover my heart

  Where pain did not rest in my soul

  Where I was more than this

  Where I believed that I was whole

  There's a shadow that won't let me be

  A ghost that grabs at each breath

  And yet hope still resides in my soul

  Telling me I'm not done yet

  I know I'm not done yet

The Cycle of Life

The 10 stages of life - a relationship first to one's parents and then one's children (The story of a person who passes away with dementia)

1. I have no idea who I am

2. I have no idea who you are but you seem like very nice people  

3. I know exactly who I am and I do not need your guidance 

4. I am doing very well on my own but I do appreciate your assistance 

5. I am at the apex of my capacity and am willing to assist you if I can.
------------------------------------------

6. I am at the apex of my capacity and am willing to assist you if I can

7. I am doing very well on my own but I do appreciate your assistance

8. I know exactly who I am and I do not need your guidance

9. I have no idea who you are but you seem like very nice people

10. I have no idea who I am

Is It OK for a Jew to Want a Christmas Tree This Year?

I know this year feels different in many ways from the past. With the memory of the horror in Pittsburgh still a fresh, open wound, with anti-semitism on the rise around the globe and attacks in this country dramatically increasing, it is a time of grave concern for Jews.

So, at the risk of sounding foolish, unsympathetic, or even worse, I ask this simple but increasingly complicated question. Is it ok for a Jew to want a Christmas tree this year?

I did not grow up in a household where religion was a centerpiece of our universe. Hebrew school was a Sunday morning activity that preceded bowling. Temple was that place where I was compelled to sit several times a year for seemingly interminable periods, attempting to stifle the laugh that would inevitably surface at exactly the most inopportune moment. This is not meant to castigate or denigrate my upbringing, or the place of reform Judaism in the hierarchy of religious practice. It is merely intended to act as explanation for why I considered Christmas to be a secular experience, not antithetical to my beliefs, but more like bowling in a different context.

Christmas was, to me, merely a time of great joy and happiness, one where wishes did come true. It was not, in my mind, something that belonged exclusively to one people. Not intended as a day of exclusion but inclusion. Santa was not a man of  limited bounty but one who would spread goodwill, near and far, to all those who deserved good cheer, who had suffered indignities or hardships throughout the year and were entitled to a moment of respite, no matter his or her station or color, no matter what temple, church or mosque he or she prayed in, no matter if they believed in your God, their God or no God at all.

And so, I was envious of the one Jewish friend of mine in town who grew up with a Christmas tree in his house. I did not know, care or understand if both of his parents were Jewish (they were). I merely comprehended, without need for clarification, this was not something that would ever happen in our house. And it didn't.

When I married, and as our children were growing, Chanukah became a time when we lit candles and exchanged gifts. It was, so I now understood, part of our inherited tradition, central to our being, even though our own attachment to the other aspects of religion was tenuous. And remains so to this day.

We are in a very difficult time in our society, in our world, where it seems that at any moment one half of the universe is in pitched battle with the other. It appears we are always drawing lines, always finding reasons to separate one from the other, forever being reminded that what makes us different is far more important than what brings us together. And Christmas is no different, a holiday reserved for some and not for others. 

I have never grown distant from my love of what unites family, what brings smiles to our collective being and warmth to our hearts. And so I wish that in this year, maybe more than any other, that Christmas was open to every Jew, every Muslim, every person who was in need of the concept intended by this holiday. I know far too little of the teachings of Jesus to speak at all to what Christmas really means. But for me, I think he would be more than happy to share this day with everyone, everywhere in need of solace, comfort and a moment of happiness.

I want to believe that, this year and in those that lay ahead, I am able to have a Christmas tree, literal as well as figurative. Without this making me a heretic. Without forgetting what it means to be a Jew in this often cruel and heartless world.

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