A Barn Find

In the second half of the fifties, I was in high school in NJ, one of the “car guys,” as opposed to the “jocks,” or the”geeks.” Every cent I earned went into a ’39 Ford DeLuxe rumble seat roadster. Equipped with the usual goodies – 3 Stromberg carbs, Edelbrock finned aluminum heads, glasspaks – and a few less usual items like its vacuum-operated Columbia two-speed rear, it was my Deep Cherry Metallic pride and joy.

The problem was finding – and affording – parts, a situation shared by two friends who had ’40 Standard coupes, almost duplicates of the ’39 DeLuxe. Remember, this was long before restoration was a big deal and before replica parts were available. Salvage yards were our haunt.

We must have visited half of the junkyards within three hours of our homes. One of us heard of a small yard in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, down behind the Hotel Bethlehem. We visited one day and asked the usual question: “Have you got any ‘39/’40 Ford parts?” To our amazement, the crusty old coot who owned the place said, “Yeah, seems like there’s some old Ford stuff in the hayloft of the big barn.”

As we found our way up to the hayloft, we guessed we’d find mostly unusable, rusted, cruddy parts. Boy, were we ever wrong! There in the hayloft was a pile of parts that people like us would kill for. Complete sets of fenders, still wrapped in cosmolene and brown paper. Pristine bumpers wrapped the same way, Complete grille assemblies. And headlight rims, brand new and still perfect. And those beautiful ’39 taillights, 2 pairs of them. And the less attractive ’40 chevron-style taillights.

I can’t remember how much we paid for it, but we bought the whole lot. Drove home and borrowed a truck to come back the next day and pick it all up. After we had skimmed off the stuff the three of us needed for our Fords, we looked up other Ford enthusiasts and sold the rest, for enough to cover all our costs.

We didn’t find a car in that barn behind the Hotel Bethlehem, but it seems to me what we found was even better: the fountain of youth for two ‘40s and a ’39.

So Long, Jack LaLanne

I was saddened recently by news of the passing of Jack LaLanne. We worked together 25 years ago, and it was a fun time. Jack, of course, was the fitness guru, and had recently celebrated his 70th birthday by swimming and pulling 70 rowboats, each with one passenger, from Alcatraz Island to Fisherman's Wharf in San Francisco. Oh, I forgot to mention; he did this while handcuffed at the wrists and ankles. Honest!

Anyway, Jack had agreed to voice a daily radio vignette for a client of ours. It was called Fun and Fitness Over Fifty, and featured Jack describing exercises appropriate for our audience, and pitching his unique use-it-or-lose-it philosophy. I have to admit, I don't think I've ever met a more enjoyable character.

Well, Jack arrived for our first session at a studio in Manhattan with scripts in hand. He swore he had studied them, but it may have been more like reading than actual studying. We ran into our first problem almost immediately. You see, Jack, like many people, was too vain to admit his need for reading glasses. As he read a script and reached the end of a line, he moved his eyes back to the start of the next line. And lost his place every time! Of course, there was no way we could talk him into reading glasses, and there was no way Ben, our faithful engineer and editor could cut and splice every line of every script, although that's what he had to do for this first session. Remember, this was before the advent of computer editing; this all had to be done with real tape and razor blades. When the session was done, we shook hands and bid farewell until the next session. As Jack left, Ben banged his head on the board and likened the session to the Bataan Death March. It had taken just a tick under 4 hours, about twice the usual length of our sessions.

As we were discussing possible solutions, the receptionist came in and said, "You've got to see this." "This" was Jack in the elevator lobby... doing jumping jacks as he waited. The session may have tested our endurance, but it sure didn't faze Jack.

Our solution was to get a bigger type ball for our IBM Selectric typewriter and a high intensity lamp for Jack's scripts. There was one more problem. Our sponsor wanted Jack to deliver the offer of a booklet of exercises. The mailing address was a PO box in Kankakee, Illinois. No problem, except that every time Jack tried to say, "Kankakee" it came out "Kankalee." Now wiser, we quickly decided to get one good take and edit that take onto the end of all the rest of the shows.

Goodbye, Jack, it was truly a delight to know you.

Keep Walking!

No, this isn't what you expected, not a warning to get yourself in shape before it's too late. No, it's something else entirely. In the midst of the NFL playoff season, with the Super Bowl looming large, we are starting an annual festival of crap and pap that's being sent our way dressed as advertising. Most of it seems to be entries in an inanity contest. Could the Pepsi commercials about Pepsi being "drafted" as the official cola of the NFL be any sillier? Does anyone not realize that all that means is that Pepsi was willing to pay more for it than anyone else?

Anyway, here's a link (http://www.crikey.com.au/2010/08/17/johnniewalker/?source=cmailer) that will take you to the most nearly perfect commercial I can remember seeing. It's a long one (over 6 minutes) and it's a brand image spot for Johnnie Walker Scotch. It appears to have been shot on a Steadicam, in one take. I'll admit that there could have been some digital cuts in there, but I don't think so. And even if there are, they are so masterful they only add to the beauty of the finished product. Oh, and the sound appears to have been looped (re-recorded), again skillfully.

So I'd suggest you pour yourself a wee dram of Johnnie Walker, plop down in your favorite chair, and enjoy the rare beauty of perfection. It seems to me there's precious little of it these days.

Random Thoughts on the Old/New Year

Two years ago, as we bid farewell to 2008, Marsha and I added a heart-felt "Good riddance" to the traditional toast. After all, 2008 was the year that brought us breast cancer and Parkinson's Disease. As we looked ahead to 2009 and beyond, we anticipated better times, or at least not worse times. And certainly not "The Great Recession." Anyway, here we are preparing to bid another not-so-fond farewell to 2010 and wondering what 2011 has in store for us.

Is this the last New Year my mom will see? Certainly the odds are in favor of that, given her increasing frailty. The good news is that she's 99 and ready for whatever comes her way. Or doesn't.

Will 2011 be the year of my retirement? And if so, what will I do with my days that's worthwhile? Will our savings and investments be sufficient to keep us living as we like to live?

Will we move from Hillsdale to an expanded Last Run in the Catskills, or is something entirely different in the cards for us? Will our kids and grandkids continue to live in South Bend and Atlanta? I'd say so, but who knows?

In 2011 Cris will be 13, Emma Kate will be 11, Jack will turn 4, and his little sister ( apparently) will be born. And those four young people will make 2011 a wonderful year, regardless of whatever else may happen.

Back to where I started this entry, Marsha has been free of cancer for 2 years now, and the new drug trial I'm in has virtually eliminated the symptoms of my Parkinson's. Looking back, it seems to me, we spend too much time worrying about what may happen in the future and not enough time enjoying the moment. My only resolution is that I will try to tip that balance for myself and as many other people I can affect. Happy New Year to all!

Christmas Shopping Scam

I was in Best Buy today and had the opportunity to watch a couple of semi-pros almost get away with a couple of unpaid-for items. They were a man and woman in their 50s, well-dressed and well-spoken. They were directly ahead of me at the checkout nearest the door, right next to the security guy who checks your packages. When I arrived, they were in a deep discussion with the cashier, about whether one of the items they were purchasing would work for them. They had multiple bags which were swished around, things removed and returned to one bag or another. After deciding that the item in question would not work for them they headed for the door... with the unpaid-for item in the bag. "Wait," says the clerk, "that needs to be scanned." "Oh, silly me. Of course it does," says she. The security guard and I are both watching closely by now. She returns to the register, lets the clerk scan the item, and heads for the door again. This time the security guy is blocking the door, as the clerk, now not about to be distracted, says "You haven't paid for that." "I'm such a goose," she says as her disappointed partner pulls out a credit card and pays. I didn't see the first couple of minutes of the operation, so I don't know for sure if there were other items unpaid-for, but it sure seems possible , maybe likely, that all their distractions and sleight of hand earned them some stocking stuffers. Ho, ho, ho.

So Spake The Cynic

Let's do what Albert Einstein called a "thought experiment." In the experiment, I'm going to make believe I'm Tiger Woods' attorney. I'm meeting with my client a couple of months before the present day, discussing strategy. Tiger says, "I just gotta get back to golf!" To which I thoughtfullly respond, "You know, Tiger, it could help us in the settlement process if your game just turned to crap until we get this thing finalized." Well, this is just an innocent fiction, but Tiger's game did turn into an amazing pile of crap, as he became as bad as he was good. Bad club selection had him hitting short into water hazards and airmailing greens. Putts were going every way but in the cup. Hell, he finished next to last in one tournament!

Fast forward a couple of months to today. First day of the Barclay's tournament around the corner at Ridgewood. The settlement is signed, sealed, and delivered and Tiger cards a 65, six under, to share the lead! It's a Christmas miracle! Well, we'll see what happens over the next three days, but I think I'd be a helluva divorce attorney; almost as good as Tiger's attorney. At least that's the way it seems to me.

The Obsession That Is Apple (continued)

About 6 weeks ago I wrote of the (then) impending introduction of the Apple iPad, noting that I would not be in line to get one; at least, not right away. And I wasn't; at least, not right away. In truth, I folded after 3 or 4 weeks. What can I tell you? I'm hooked on Apple, and now, I am definitely hooked on iPad.

First the bad news: I am one of the "few" (according to Apple) people having WiFi connectivity issues. This is a problem since WiFi is the only kind of connectivity I have, since I didn't spend the extra $129 for a 3G model. Curiously, my daughter is also one of the "few." Perhaps it's just coincidence that both of us run our home networks off a Verizon cable modem/router. (Conspiracy theorists take note.) In any case neither of us has any problems with our office WiFi network, and Apple promises a software fix soon, but not now.

Here's the good news: I love my iPad! Since I don't own a laptop, the iPad is the first opportunity I've had to sit in front of the TV and multi-task, iPad in hand. And the reading experience is excellent. Cautious again, I downloaded only one of the free classics that I had never read in school when I should have, Moby Dick. Fifty pages into it, the metaphor was so real that I found myself about to wet my finger to turn the page. So I bought a book, a science fiction by Spinrad. It was a totally iTunes experience. Took less than 30 seconds to download. My second book was a pre-order of The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets' Nest from Amazon. They've promised to download it to my iPad on May 25. Here's the great part: On May 25, the hardcover is being published. What's that going to cost? Maybe $19.95 from Barnes & Noble. Six months or a year later, the paperback will arrive for probably $14.95. My e-copy is only $9.99.

Certainly there will be times and places not conducive to the use of my iPad: The beach, for one. And I don't know if I'll have to turn it off for take-offs and landings, but who cares? I don't fly that much anymore. It seems to me that Apple has hit the bullseye one more time. At least they've hit MY bullseye!