Thank God for the passage of time. And the ability to turn over a new leaf on December 31. The artificial marking this year is all too real for me today.
Good fucking riddance, 2015. Indeed, it probably falls in the top three of the worst years of my life.
Regular readers know that I had some health problems this year. For somebody who usually gets a clean bill of whatever during his annual physical the last week of December, I hit the skids pretty darn quickly by March of 2015.
A mystery ailment that was part inflamed liver, part gall bladder, part hiatal hernia, and totally a drain on my bank account. You see, when you have a high deductible on your own personal and independent health insurance, out-of-pocket soon means nothing-left-in-the-pocket. Two ultrasounds. Two MRIs. One nuclear something-or-other test that was supposed to demonstrate how well my innards were working. The tests said I was fine.
Still, by October, I was less than...fine.
I had total trust in my doctors and still do. But, somehow, the "let's try this" approach to finding out what was wrong with me became a bit weary for me. Now I recently watched reruns of the old "Doctor Kildare" TV show and Richard Chamberlain could figure things out in less than an hour with four commercial breaks. My guys turned my health into a mini-series.
Of course, I didn't help matters on Halloween by colliding with gravity and fracturing my kneecap. Suddenly, I had gastric issues and I was standing on crutches at the same time.
The deductible mounted with a series of x-rays, both portrait and wallet size. Luckily, the core of my body (thank you, wonderful personal trainer Christina) was in such good shape that the fracture healed almost completely in a month. But my inner system, which my primary care physician referred to as biliary sludge, was still...well...sludgy. At last, it was decided that a gallstone was blocking my common bile duct and needed to come out.
So, one week before Christmas, I'm on a gurney at St. John's Hospital, which is a terrific facility, but one I don't want to visit as much in 2016. An endoscopy unclogged me for the time being and the East River inside of me started to break up. I immediately went home with visions of a cute anesthesiologist in my head. She said I had a big tongue. I told her that I bet she said that to all the guys with bile backing up into their eyeballs. Nevertheless, I wasn't home for three hours before my primary care doctor called and suggested that the next step should be to rip the whole gall bladder early in 2016. My response was less than respectful.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
Luckily, my primary care guy is terrific and has also dropped the F-bomb to me on occasion. But I couldn't begin to think about yet another procedure. And starting the new deductible early.
Okay, I guess things could have been worse. And I am so looking forward to 2016. There are some great new developments that you will be learning about here soon. Gall bladder or no gall bladder. But I just want to take a recess for just a little bit. I need to mentally regroup. And my doctors finally concur. In my annual physical the other day (I am back in fine fiddle), I will get to keep the gall bladder at least until Spring. Woo hoo.
So now I can really celebrate the passage of time tonight. Saying goodbye to a year that seemed like two or three.
See ya, 2015. Let the doorknob hit you where the good Lord split you.
Dinner last night: Italian panini.
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
This Date in History - December 30
Happy birthday to Sandy Koufax. Yikes! Eighty years old today.
1066: A MUSLIM MOBS STORMS THE ROYAL PALACE IN GRANADA.
Already???
1460: THE WAR OF THE ROSES - THE BATTLE OF WAKEFIELD.
I don't think it's the section of the Bronx.
1813: BRITISH SOLDIERS BURN BUFFALO, NEW YORK.
The city never wins. If not fire, it's snow.
1853: THE UNITED STATES BUYS LAND FROM MEXICO TO FACILITATE RAILROAD BUILDING IN THE SOUTHWEST.
You'll be sorry.
1896: CANADIAN ICE HOCKEY PLAYER ERNIE MCLEA SCORES THE FIRST HAT TRICK IN STANLEY CUP PLAY.
That's three goals in one game for those not in the know.
1903: A FIRE AT THE IROQUOIS THEATER IN CHICAGO, ILLINOIS KILLS AT LEAST 605.
The popcorn machine must have gotten out of hand.
1914: ACTOR BERT PARKS IS BORN.
There he is...
1919: LINCOLN'S INN IN LONDON ADMITS ITS FIRST FEMALE BAR STUDENT.
But when are we letting women into the pub?
1920: ACTOR JACK LORD IS BORN.
Aloha.
1922: THE UNION OF SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLIC IS FORMED.
Da.
1934: ACTOR JOSEPH BOLOGNA IS BORN.
All beef.
1934: ACTOR RUSS TAMBLYN IS BORN.
When you're a Jet...
1935: BASEBALL STAR SANDY KOUFAX IS BORN.
Be careful with that left arm, son.
1935: ACTOR JACK RILEY IS BORN.
Mr. Carlin on the Bob Newhart Show.
1936: THE UNITED AUTO WORKERS UNION STATES ITS FIRST SITDOWN STRIKE.
Well, it didn't take long to piss them off.
1942: MUSICIAN MICHAEL NESMITH IS BORN.
Hey, hey, he's a Monkee...
1948: THE BROADWAY MUSICAL "KISS ME KATE" OPENS AND BECOMES THE FIRST SHOW TO WIN THE BEST MUSICAL TONY AWARD.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
1957: TV HOST MATT LAUER IS BORN.
Wikipedia calls him a journalist. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
1965: FERDINAND MARCOS BECOMES PRESIDENT OF THE PHILIPPINES.
Dig the wife with all the shoes.
1970: BOXER SONNY LISTON DIES.
KO-ed.
1972: VIETNAM WAR - THE UNITED STATES HALTS HEAVY BOMBING OFF NORTH VIETNAM.
It's about time.
1977: FOR THE SECOND TIME, TED BUNDY ESCAPES FROM HIS JAIL CELL.
No prison can hold me, you dirty rats.
1981: HOCKEY'S WAYNE GRETZKY SCORES FIVE GOALS, GIVING HIM 50 ON THE YEAR.
A scoring machine plus one hot wife. So he scored at home, too.
1993: AGENT IRVING LAZAR DIES.
Swifty!
1993: ISRAEL AND VATICAN CITY ESTABLISH DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS.
So, sit, we'll talk, Pope-ila.
1996: ACTOR LEW AYRES DIES.
Paging Dr. Kildare.
1996: PROPOSED BUDGET CUTS BY BENJAMIN NETANYAHU SPARKS PROTESTS FROM 250,000 WORKERS.
So he's not really the beloved guy we've all heard about.
2004: MUSICIAN ARTIE SHAW DIES.
He was once hooked up with Lana Turner, so no dummy he.
2006: FORMER PRESIDENT OF IRAQ SADDAM HUSSEIN IS EXECUTED.
Good things happen to those who wait.
2014: ACTRESS LUISE RAINER DIES.
She was 104. Won an Oscar for "The Good Earth." Now under it.
Dinner last night: Leftover beef tenderloin and veggies.
1066: A MUSLIM MOBS STORMS THE ROYAL PALACE IN GRANADA.
Already???
1460: THE WAR OF THE ROSES - THE BATTLE OF WAKEFIELD.
I don't think it's the section of the Bronx.
1813: BRITISH SOLDIERS BURN BUFFALO, NEW YORK.
The city never wins. If not fire, it's snow.
1853: THE UNITED STATES BUYS LAND FROM MEXICO TO FACILITATE RAILROAD BUILDING IN THE SOUTHWEST.
You'll be sorry.
1896: CANADIAN ICE HOCKEY PLAYER ERNIE MCLEA SCORES THE FIRST HAT TRICK IN STANLEY CUP PLAY.
That's three goals in one game for those not in the know.
1903: A FIRE AT THE IROQUOIS THEATER IN CHICAGO, ILLINOIS KILLS AT LEAST 605.
The popcorn machine must have gotten out of hand.
1914: ACTOR BERT PARKS IS BORN.
There he is...
1919: LINCOLN'S INN IN LONDON ADMITS ITS FIRST FEMALE BAR STUDENT.
But when are we letting women into the pub?
1920: ACTOR JACK LORD IS BORN.
Aloha.
1922: THE UNION OF SOVIET SOCIALIST REPUBLIC IS FORMED.
Da.
1934: ACTOR JOSEPH BOLOGNA IS BORN.
All beef.
1934: ACTOR RUSS TAMBLYN IS BORN.
When you're a Jet...
1935: BASEBALL STAR SANDY KOUFAX IS BORN.
Be careful with that left arm, son.
1935: ACTOR JACK RILEY IS BORN.
Mr. Carlin on the Bob Newhart Show.
1936: THE UNITED AUTO WORKERS UNION STATES ITS FIRST SITDOWN STRIKE.
Well, it didn't take long to piss them off.
1942: MUSICIAN MICHAEL NESMITH IS BORN.
Hey, hey, he's a Monkee...
1948: THE BROADWAY MUSICAL "KISS ME KATE" OPENS AND BECOMES THE FIRST SHOW TO WIN THE BEST MUSICAL TONY AWARD.
Brush up your Shakespeare.
1957: TV HOST MATT LAUER IS BORN.
Wikipedia calls him a journalist. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.
1965: FERDINAND MARCOS BECOMES PRESIDENT OF THE PHILIPPINES.
Dig the wife with all the shoes.
1970: BOXER SONNY LISTON DIES.
KO-ed.
1972: VIETNAM WAR - THE UNITED STATES HALTS HEAVY BOMBING OFF NORTH VIETNAM.
It's about time.
1977: FOR THE SECOND TIME, TED BUNDY ESCAPES FROM HIS JAIL CELL.
No prison can hold me, you dirty rats.
1981: HOCKEY'S WAYNE GRETZKY SCORES FIVE GOALS, GIVING HIM 50 ON THE YEAR.
A scoring machine plus one hot wife. So he scored at home, too.
Swifty!
1993: ISRAEL AND VATICAN CITY ESTABLISH DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS.
So, sit, we'll talk, Pope-ila.
1996: ACTOR LEW AYRES DIES.
Paging Dr. Kildare.
1996: PROPOSED BUDGET CUTS BY BENJAMIN NETANYAHU SPARKS PROTESTS FROM 250,000 WORKERS.
So he's not really the beloved guy we've all heard about.
2004: MUSICIAN ARTIE SHAW DIES.
He was once hooked up with Lana Turner, so no dummy he.
2006: FORMER PRESIDENT OF IRAQ SADDAM HUSSEIN IS EXECUTED.
Good things happen to those who wait.
2014: ACTRESS LUISE RAINER DIES.
She was 104. Won an Oscar for "The Good Earth." Now under it.
Dinner last night: Leftover beef tenderloin and veggies.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
This Never Gets Old
If you're at all a fan of cinema, you had the book. I know I did. My paperback edition of "Hitchcock/Truffaut" fell apart and is now nothing more than disjointed pages. Except for perhaps the annual New York Mets yearbook, no book got played by me more than this one.
For those who don't know what the hell I'm talking, the legendary film genius Alfred Hitchcock sat down for a series of recorded conversations back in 1962 with the then-still-novice French director Francois Truffaut. The dialogue, which is nothing more than Truffaut interviewing Hitchcock about his film career, was essentially printed verbatim in a book that has been reprinted dozens of times over the years.
And with good reason. It digs into Hitchcock's film catalog in so much depth. The book turns out to be a master class in movie making. And you learn all the nuances and trickery that Sir Alfred employed to scare and entertain film audiences over the years.
Well, director Kent Jones takes those taped conversations and fashions into a wonderful documentary called...wait for it..."Hitchcock Truffaut." Essentially, it's nothing but a rehash of the legendary book. But, Jones is smart to pepper it with observations from such current-day directors as David Fincher and Martin Scorsese. You've seen and read it all before. But, suddenly, it's all new again.
Through the voices of Hitchcock, Truffaut, and their modern colleagues, you gain one more time a new appreciation of the master Hitchcock. There are so many film clips here that you have seen over and over a dozen times. Yet, as they unspool in this documentary, you have no problem seeing them again. That's the true mark of a great director. You can watch the same movie ten times and still see something new each time.
It got me to thinking back to when I was a kid. I was young and basically my film viewing library were cartoons and Disney features. My older cousin came over to take me to the movies and, without blinking, took me to see "The Birds." I felt so adult and I will never ever forget that one cousin for introducing me to Alfred Hitchcock. It's been a love affair ever since.
That's why "Hitchcock Truffaut", as repetitive a documentary it is, winds up still being pure gold.
And it made me go home that very night to dip one more time into my Hitchcock DVD collection. As it should be.
LEN'S RATING: Three-and-a-half stars.
Dinner last night: A great stuffed beef filet---annual holiday dinner with good friends Amir and Kevin.
For those who don't know what the hell I'm talking, the legendary film genius Alfred Hitchcock sat down for a series of recorded conversations back in 1962 with the then-still-novice French director Francois Truffaut. The dialogue, which is nothing more than Truffaut interviewing Hitchcock about his film career, was essentially printed verbatim in a book that has been reprinted dozens of times over the years.
And with good reason. It digs into Hitchcock's film catalog in so much depth. The book turns out to be a master class in movie making. And you learn all the nuances and trickery that Sir Alfred employed to scare and entertain film audiences over the years.
Well, director Kent Jones takes those taped conversations and fashions into a wonderful documentary called...wait for it..."Hitchcock Truffaut." Essentially, it's nothing but a rehash of the legendary book. But, Jones is smart to pepper it with observations from such current-day directors as David Fincher and Martin Scorsese. You've seen and read it all before. But, suddenly, it's all new again.
Through the voices of Hitchcock, Truffaut, and their modern colleagues, you gain one more time a new appreciation of the master Hitchcock. There are so many film clips here that you have seen over and over a dozen times. Yet, as they unspool in this documentary, you have no problem seeing them again. That's the true mark of a great director. You can watch the same movie ten times and still see something new each time.
It got me to thinking back to when I was a kid. I was young and basically my film viewing library were cartoons and Disney features. My older cousin came over to take me to the movies and, without blinking, took me to see "The Birds." I felt so adult and I will never ever forget that one cousin for introducing me to Alfred Hitchcock. It's been a love affair ever since.
That's why "Hitchcock Truffaut", as repetitive a documentary it is, winds up still being pure gold.
And it made me go home that very night to dip one more time into my Hitchcock DVD collection. As it should be.
LEN'S RATING: Three-and-a-half stars.
Dinner last night: A great stuffed beef filet---annual holiday dinner with good friends Amir and Kevin.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Monday Morning Video Laugh - December 28, 2015
New Year's Eve with Johnny Carson.
Dinner last night: BLT at Blue Plate.
Dinner last night: BLT at Blue Plate.
Sunday, December 27, 2015
The Sunday Memory Drawer - Holiday Purgatory
Here we are. Smack in the middle of the annual holiday period. The week between Christmas and New Year's Day. A frequently unsettling period that I either loved or loathed.
Truth be told, I have always taken this week off. Ever since grade school when you are automatically free as a bird, I have always made sure to be off from classes and/or work. It just seems to be the right thing to do. Why? No clue.
It's not like I had a huge family to commune with when I was a kid. Or a big throng of relatives to reconnect with when I was an adult. But I still would make sure to be off. To do...I don't know what.
When you're a kid (and, particularly, an only child), you're inundated with toys on Christmas morning as you can see above. Note the Army tank. Well, the week between Christmas and New Year's Day was spent getting acquainted with my new haul before it would all go to the bottom of the toy chest or my closet.
Of course, I couldn't possibly play with everything. There would be one or two toys or games that would capture my immediate fancy. And I would ignore the rest. This would prompt a response from Santa AKA Mom.
"How come you're not playing with such-and-such?"
Um.
"You don't like that toy?"
Er.
"If you don't like it, we can still take it back."
Talk about instilling guilt feelings on a seven-year-old. Then I would transfer these emotions to the actual toys I was currently shunning. I'd imagine voices from those boxes.
"You don't like me."
"I'm a fun toy. Try me."
"Maybe I can find another boy who wants to play with me."
I didn't say I was normal.
Eventually, all of the toys and games would lose their luster with me and get assigned to prime dust catching spots in my room. Until they were replaced the very next Christmas.
So, even though I was off from school, I was still tormented.
To make matters worse, this was also the week where I was frequently pulled away from my Christmas loot to go visit relatives or family friends. Because, back in this day, we had gifts for everybody and they all had gifts for us. The trip I would dread the most was to my father's aunt in the Bronx. Tante Emma. While the adults would gab in the kitchen, she'd plop me down in her living room to watch TV. But she had no clue what a kid my age would want to watch.
"Meet The Press is on."
Huh?
Of course, the holidays with Tante Emma also meant the bestowing upon me of her Christmas card. Always with five dollars in it. This would result in another annual tradition. The prodding of yours truly to call her on the phone to thank her for the money.
"You better call Tante Emma and thank her."
Umm....
You see, the reticence to do this was largely fueled by the fact that Tante Emma couldn't hear you on the telephone. I would dial the phone in absolute fear.
Er, thank you for the card and the money, Tante Emma.
'WHO IS THIS?"
It's me, Lenny. Thank you for the card and the money.
"DID YOU GET THE CARD I SENT YOU?"
Yes, I did.
"I SENT YOU A CARD. DID IT COME IN THE MAIL YET?"
Going back to school on January 2 was starting to look pretty darn good after ten minutes on the phone with Tante Emma.
This week also provided for the roll-up and anticipation of New Year's Eve. In our family, there were rotating parties. Different people took turns hosting the soiree. For several years, we were the hosts in my house when my father and mother would turn over the drafty cellar into a dance hall. I was usually the lone youngster there. And stuck for conversation with anybody under 25. I'd frequently wind up sitting aimlessly between my grandmother and Tante Emma, who was still quizzing me.
"DID YOU GET THE CARD I SENT YOU?"
Over the years into adulthood, that planning for New Year's Eve never got easier. If we were lucky in college, somebody would throw a house party. But there would be other years where we all turned into that classic scene from "Marty."
"Whadaya want to do New Year's Eve?"
"I dunno know. Whadaya want to do?"
"I dunno know."
There were some great endings to the year. With dates. Without dates.
Dancing to oldies in a club in Manhattan.
Great meals in some dynamite restaurants in Los Angeles.
But there were also some not-so-great endings to the year.
Fights with friends at parties over nothing at all.
Sitting at home with a fractured rotator cuff in a sling.
Returning home to hear a message from the hospital that my mother had slipped into an irreversible coma.
They all blur together. As does the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. Yes, I am always off.
And every year I wonder if this is the year that strange week will be different.
Dinner last night: Beef chow fun at Wokcano.
Truth be told, I have always taken this week off. Ever since grade school when you are automatically free as a bird, I have always made sure to be off from classes and/or work. It just seems to be the right thing to do. Why? No clue.
It's not like I had a huge family to commune with when I was a kid. Or a big throng of relatives to reconnect with when I was an adult. But I still would make sure to be off. To do...I don't know what.
When you're a kid (and, particularly, an only child), you're inundated with toys on Christmas morning as you can see above. Note the Army tank. Well, the week between Christmas and New Year's Day was spent getting acquainted with my new haul before it would all go to the bottom of the toy chest or my closet.
Of course, I couldn't possibly play with everything. There would be one or two toys or games that would capture my immediate fancy. And I would ignore the rest. This would prompt a response from Santa AKA Mom.
"How come you're not playing with such-and-such?"
Um.
"You don't like that toy?"
Er.
"If you don't like it, we can still take it back."
Talk about instilling guilt feelings on a seven-year-old. Then I would transfer these emotions to the actual toys I was currently shunning. I'd imagine voices from those boxes.
"You don't like me."
"I'm a fun toy. Try me."
"Maybe I can find another boy who wants to play with me."
I didn't say I was normal.
Eventually, all of the toys and games would lose their luster with me and get assigned to prime dust catching spots in my room. Until they were replaced the very next Christmas.
So, even though I was off from school, I was still tormented.
To make matters worse, this was also the week where I was frequently pulled away from my Christmas loot to go visit relatives or family friends. Because, back in this day, we had gifts for everybody and they all had gifts for us. The trip I would dread the most was to my father's aunt in the Bronx. Tante Emma. While the adults would gab in the kitchen, she'd plop me down in her living room to watch TV. But she had no clue what a kid my age would want to watch.
"Meet The Press is on."
Huh?
Of course, the holidays with Tante Emma also meant the bestowing upon me of her Christmas card. Always with five dollars in it. This would result in another annual tradition. The prodding of yours truly to call her on the phone to thank her for the money.
"You better call Tante Emma and thank her."
Umm....
You see, the reticence to do this was largely fueled by the fact that Tante Emma couldn't hear you on the telephone. I would dial the phone in absolute fear.
Er, thank you for the card and the money, Tante Emma.
'WHO IS THIS?"
It's me, Lenny. Thank you for the card and the money.
"DID YOU GET THE CARD I SENT YOU?"
Yes, I did.
"I SENT YOU A CARD. DID IT COME IN THE MAIL YET?"
Going back to school on January 2 was starting to look pretty darn good after ten minutes on the phone with Tante Emma.
This week also provided for the roll-up and anticipation of New Year's Eve. In our family, there were rotating parties. Different people took turns hosting the soiree. For several years, we were the hosts in my house when my father and mother would turn over the drafty cellar into a dance hall. I was usually the lone youngster there. And stuck for conversation with anybody under 25. I'd frequently wind up sitting aimlessly between my grandmother and Tante Emma, who was still quizzing me.
"DID YOU GET THE CARD I SENT YOU?"
Over the years into adulthood, that planning for New Year's Eve never got easier. If we were lucky in college, somebody would throw a house party. But there would be other years where we all turned into that classic scene from "Marty."
"Whadaya want to do New Year's Eve?"
"I dunno know. Whadaya want to do?"
"I dunno know."
There were some great endings to the year. With dates. Without dates.
Dancing to oldies in a club in Manhattan.
Great meals in some dynamite restaurants in Los Angeles.
But there were also some not-so-great endings to the year.
Fights with friends at parties over nothing at all.
Sitting at home with a fractured rotator cuff in a sling.
Returning home to hear a message from the hospital that my mother had slipped into an irreversible coma.
They all blur together. As does the week between Christmas and New Year's Day. Yes, I am always off.
And every year I wonder if this is the year that strange week will be different.
Dinner last night: Beef chow fun at Wokcano.
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - December 2015
You were expecting something else???
Dinner last night: Beef tenderloin, mashed potatoes, peas with proscuitto, herb roasted onions, and cucumber salad.
Dinner last night: Beef tenderloin, mashed potatoes, peas with proscuitto, herb roasted onions, and cucumber salad.
Friday, December 25, 2015
All The Best....
...from my living room to yours. May it be filled with friends, family, love, and friendship.
No more words needed today. In fact, just two...
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
Dinner last night: Pre-church Italian panini.
No more words needed today. In fact, just two...
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
Dinner last night: Pre-church Italian panini.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
A Christmas Eve Tradition - Twas The Night Before Christmas Recited by Me
What better thing to do on Christmas Eve than to bring back this warm chestnut from blog days past. It worked before. It will work again.
Just imagine us in front of a warm Christmas Eve fireplace. Snug as bugs in rugs. And I open this book to read it aloud to all assembled.
How utterly delightful!
How comforting!
How could I possibly get through the whole thing without making a bunch of snarky comments?
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
Okay, it's me now. An ignoble start to this Christmas chestnut, because right from the get-go, you find out they've got rodents in this place.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Giving rise to another horrible childhood nightmare when Monte, my "alleged friend" up the block who liked to spew a lot of Catholic hate my way, told me that St. Nicholas was obviously Catholic and didn't visit Protestant homes.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
I have never dreamed of fruit. Even once.
And Mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
Bedtime headwear? The only person I ever saw in a nightcap was Fred Mertz. And what's with the nonsense about a nap? When you go to bed at nighttime, it's not a nap. It's called "going to sleep!"
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
If there ever was commotion in our neighborhood, we didn't immediately think it was Santa Claus. It was probably the woman next door coming home drunk from the local gin mill. Once, she fell right through my grandmother's lilac bush.
Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutter and threw up the sash.
"Threw up the sash?" You never should have tried to eat it in the first place.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
If I was reading this as a kid, I would have started to giggle at the mention of "breast" and probably not get through the rest of the poem. I'm just saying...
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
This is one of the only Christmas passages that gave you any perspective on the size of the reindeer. Were they babies? And, if so, is this not animal cruelty? Making these things run all over the world in one night??
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
Had we no prior experience with Christmas, would we immediately know it was St. Nick? On any street corner in December, there are tons of imposters. There are myriad ways that a scam artist could bilk thousands of unsuspecting children on Christmas Eve. After all, nobody is awake to demand proper identification.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!"
Okay, no mention of Rudolph. When does he get invented? And perhaps he was nothing more than a urban legend designed to get Gene Autry a couple of Gold albums. And don't you wonder just a little about Vixen? With a name like that, I wonder which of the other reindeer she was doing. The smart money is on Dasher.
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!
I typed that just as Clement Moore wrote it originally. What's with the inability to capitalize properly?
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
Dry leaves? How do these turn up in a winter poem? My guess is that Moore started writing this in September or October and simply got sidetracked during the process. I know just how deadly writer's block can be. Who knows? Maybe this was supposed to be "Twas The Night Before Halloween."
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
So is this proof that Santa only brought toys? That runs contrary to some other images we have. Of Mr. Claus riding a Norelco razor up and down some snowdrifts. And Santa was prominently displayed on that carton of Kent cigarettes my mother always got as well as the box of Canadian Club my dad got from his friends around the corner.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
The way our roof was arched, there was absolutely no way that the sleigh and reindeer could have kept their balance. At least, three of those suckers would have tumbled off. Right into Grandma's lilac bush, lying next to the drunken neighbor.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
You see, this always presented a major problem in our house. There was one chimney fireplace. In Grandma's dining room. And it was sealed with cement. I once asked her how Santa Claus could get in. She told me not to ask a lot of stupid question.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
Dressed in fur? Are we absolutely 100% sure that there was a Mrs. Claus? Because the image I'm getting is Liberace. Except no gay guy allows himself to get this dirty ever.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
You see a sprightly old gentleman? I'm seeing a homeless bum down in Santa Monica.
His eyes---how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
Possibly warning signs of melanoma or even high blood pressure.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
One verse later, we have our medical diagnosis. "Mouth drawn up like a bow." He's had a mild stroke.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
A stroke brought on by heavy smoking.
He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
I never understood this image. Do me a favor. Take a jar of jelly and empty it into a bowl. It doesn't shake. It just lies there. Inert. Now, if Moore had known about Jell-O at the time, this reference would have worked. But, then, you have the rhyme problem. Jell-O, bellow, hello, mellow. The whole poem falls off the proverbial map.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
Another misnomer. Fat people are not always happy. Most are depressed, having eaten themselves into a coma for deep seeded psychological reasons.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
Or maybe I did. An old guy winking and making overt gestures. Hello, Pedophile.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
Head twisting. Body jerking. I'm thinking Parkinson's. What about you?
And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
Once again, I'd ask my grandmother how Santa could get out with a sealed up chimney in our house. Once again, I'd hear, "You ask too many stupid questions."
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
I never knew what a thistle was, let alone how much down you got from one. And, how about the noise this bunch generates as they leave? For what purpose? Aren't they simply going to fly over to the house next door?
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
Yeah! Me, too!
Dinner last night: Leftover orange chicken.
Just imagine us in front of a warm Christmas Eve fireplace. Snug as bugs in rugs. And I open this book to read it aloud to all assembled.
How utterly delightful!
How comforting!
How could I possibly get through the whole thing without making a bunch of snarky comments?
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
Okay, it's me now. An ignoble start to this Christmas chestnut, because right from the get-go, you find out they've got rodents in this place.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
Giving rise to another horrible childhood nightmare when Monte, my "alleged friend" up the block who liked to spew a lot of Catholic hate my way, told me that St. Nicholas was obviously Catholic and didn't visit Protestant homes.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
I have never dreamed of fruit. Even once.
And Mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
Bedtime headwear? The only person I ever saw in a nightcap was Fred Mertz. And what's with the nonsense about a nap? When you go to bed at nighttime, it's not a nap. It's called "going to sleep!"
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
If there ever was commotion in our neighborhood, we didn't immediately think it was Santa Claus. It was probably the woman next door coming home drunk from the local gin mill. Once, she fell right through my grandmother's lilac bush.
Away to the window I flew like a flash, tore open the shutter and threw up the sash.
"Threw up the sash?" You never should have tried to eat it in the first place.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow gave the luster of mid-day to objects below,
If I was reading this as a kid, I would have started to giggle at the mention of "breast" and probably not get through the rest of the poem. I'm just saying...
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
This is one of the only Christmas passages that gave you any perspective on the size of the reindeer. Were they babies? And, if so, is this not animal cruelty? Making these things run all over the world in one night??
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
Had we no prior experience with Christmas, would we immediately know it was St. Nick? On any street corner in December, there are tons of imposters. There are myriad ways that a scam artist could bilk thousands of unsuspecting children on Christmas Eve. After all, nobody is awake to demand proper identification.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name; "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!"
Okay, no mention of Rudolph. When does he get invented? And perhaps he was nothing more than a urban legend designed to get Gene Autry a couple of Gold albums. And don't you wonder just a little about Vixen? With a name like that, I wonder which of the other reindeer she was doing. The smart money is on Dasher.
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!
I typed that just as Clement Moore wrote it originally. What's with the inability to capitalize properly?
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
Dry leaves? How do these turn up in a winter poem? My guess is that Moore started writing this in September or October and simply got sidetracked during the process. I know just how deadly writer's block can be. Who knows? Maybe this was supposed to be "Twas The Night Before Halloween."
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, with the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
So is this proof that Santa only brought toys? That runs contrary to some other images we have. Of Mr. Claus riding a Norelco razor up and down some snowdrifts. And Santa was prominently displayed on that carton of Kent cigarettes my mother always got as well as the box of Canadian Club my dad got from his friends around the corner.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof the prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
The way our roof was arched, there was absolutely no way that the sleigh and reindeer could have kept their balance. At least, three of those suckers would have tumbled off. Right into Grandma's lilac bush, lying next to the drunken neighbor.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around, down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
You see, this always presented a major problem in our house. There was one chimney fireplace. In Grandma's dining room. And it was sealed with cement. I once asked her how Santa Claus could get in. She told me not to ask a lot of stupid question.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
Dressed in fur? Are we absolutely 100% sure that there was a Mrs. Claus? Because the image I'm getting is Liberace. Except no gay guy allows himself to get this dirty ever.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
You see a sprightly old gentleman? I'm seeing a homeless bum down in Santa Monica.
His eyes---how they twinkled! his dimples how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
Possibly warning signs of melanoma or even high blood pressure.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow and the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
One verse later, we have our medical diagnosis. "Mouth drawn up like a bow." He's had a mild stroke.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
A stroke brought on by heavy smoking.
He had a broad face and a little round belly, that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
I never understood this image. Do me a favor. Take a jar of jelly and empty it into a bowl. It doesn't shake. It just lies there. Inert. Now, if Moore had known about Jell-O at the time, this reference would have worked. But, then, you have the rhyme problem. Jell-O, bellow, hello, mellow. The whole poem falls off the proverbial map.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf, and I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
Another misnomer. Fat people are not always happy. Most are depressed, having eaten themselves into a coma for deep seeded psychological reasons.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head, soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
Or maybe I did. An old guy winking and making overt gestures. Hello, Pedophile.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, and filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
Head twisting. Body jerking. I'm thinking Parkinson's. What about you?
And laying his finger aside of his nose, and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
Once again, I'd ask my grandmother how Santa could get out with a sealed up chimney in our house. Once again, I'd hear, "You ask too many stupid questions."
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle,
I never knew what a thistle was, let alone how much down you got from one. And, how about the noise this bunch generates as they leave? For what purpose? Aren't they simply going to fly over to the house next door?
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."
Yeah! Me, too!
Dinner last night: Leftover orange chicken.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
This Date in History - December 23
Happy birthday, Mr. Burns. Well, not really him....see below.
484: HUNERIC DIES AND IS SUCCEEDED BY HIS NEPHEW GUNTHAMUND, WHO BECOMES KING OF THE VANDALS.
Are these the same vandals you often find on the NYC subway system?
558: CHLOTHAR I IS CROWNED KING OF THE FRANKS.
I thought that was Oscar Mayer.
562: HAGIA SOPHIA IN CONSTANTINOPLE REOPENED WITH A REBUILT DOME AFTER A SERIES OF EARTHQUAKES CAUSED THE ORIGINAL TO COLLAPSE.
Are they going to put down some Astro turf?
679: KING DAGOBERT II IS MURDERED WHILE HUNTING.
Who shot him? A deer?
1783: GEORGE WASHINGTON RESIGNS AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE CONTINENTAL ARMY IN MARYLAND.
See! Telling the truth about that cherry tree did have some blowback.
1823: A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS, ALSO KNOWN AS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, IS PUBLISHED ANONYMOUSLY.
Anonymously? Okay, I'll come clean. I wrote it.
1893: THE OPERA HANSEL AND GRETEL BY ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK IS FIRST PERFORMED.
Okay, not that Engelbert Humperdinck.
1913: THE FEDERAL RESERVE ACT IS SIGNED INTO LAW BY PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON, CREATING THE FEDERAL RESERVE SYSTEM.
Over a hundred years later, there's probably not much left in it.
1919: SEX DISQUALIFICATION (REMOVAL) ACT 1919 BECOMES LAW IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.
What? Who? How? Ouch.
1935: FOOTBALL STAR PAUL HORNUNG IS BORN.
For all you Cheese Heads out there.
1938: DISCOVERY OF THE FIRST MODERN COELACANTH IN SOUTH AFRICA.
Any guesses?
1941: WORLD WAR II - AFTER 15 DAYS OF FIGHTING, THE JAPANESE ARMY OCCUPIES WAKE ISLAND.
Oh, sure, they're on a roll. For now.
1943: ACTOR HARRY SHEARER IS BORN.
Smithers!!!!!
1946: ACTRESS SUSAN LUCCI IS BORN.
And her mother welcomed....all her children.
1947: THE TRANSISTOR IS FIRST DEMONSTRATED AT BELL LABS.
You mean I can hear radio out of this little thing?
1954: THE FIRST SUCCESSFUL KIDNEY TRANSPLANT.
And how many were unsuccessful?
1968: THE 82 SAILORS FROM THE USS PUEBLO ARE RELEASED AFTER ELEVEN MONTHS OF INTERNMENT IN NORTH KOREA.
Back then, they captured submarines. Today, they hijack computer servers.
1970: THE NORTH TOWER OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER IN NY BECOMES THE TALLEST BUILDING IN THE WORLD.
For the next 31 years.
1982: ACTOR JACK WEBB DIES.
The obituary you are about to read is true.
1982: THE US ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION AGENCY ANNOUNCES IT HAS IDENTIFIED DANGEROUS LEVELS OF DIOXIN IN MISSOURI.
The stuff I wash my hair with is called Nioxin. I wonder what the hell kind of damage I'm doing to my scalp.
1986: VOYAGER, PILOTED BY DICK RUTAN AND JEANA YEAGER, LANDS IN CALIFORNIA, BECOMING THE FIRST AIRCRAFT TO FLY NON-STOP AROUND THE WORLD WITHOUT AERIAL OR GROUND REFUELING.
But I bet they still lost some luggage.
2000: ACTOR BILLY BARTY DIES.
He was 76, so he didn't come up that short.
2000: PIANIST VICTOR BORGE DIES.
Period semi-colon.
2010: A MONSOONAL TROUGH CROSSES THE NORTHEASTERN COAST OF AUSTRALIA FROM THE CORAL SEA.
Right in the middle of Australia's summer season.
2012: MURDERER JEAN HARRIS DIES.
Guilty.
Dinner last night: Leftover spaghetti and meatballs.
484: HUNERIC DIES AND IS SUCCEEDED BY HIS NEPHEW GUNTHAMUND, WHO BECOMES KING OF THE VANDALS.
Are these the same vandals you often find on the NYC subway system?
558: CHLOTHAR I IS CROWNED KING OF THE FRANKS.
I thought that was Oscar Mayer.
562: HAGIA SOPHIA IN CONSTANTINOPLE REOPENED WITH A REBUILT DOME AFTER A SERIES OF EARTHQUAKES CAUSED THE ORIGINAL TO COLLAPSE.
Are they going to put down some Astro turf?
679: KING DAGOBERT II IS MURDERED WHILE HUNTING.
Who shot him? A deer?
1783: GEORGE WASHINGTON RESIGNS AS COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF OF THE CONTINENTAL ARMY IN MARYLAND.
See! Telling the truth about that cherry tree did have some blowback.
1823: A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS, ALSO KNOWN AS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, IS PUBLISHED ANONYMOUSLY.
Anonymously? Okay, I'll come clean. I wrote it.
1893: THE OPERA HANSEL AND GRETEL BY ENGELBERT HUMPERDINCK IS FIRST PERFORMED.
Okay, not that Engelbert Humperdinck.
1913: THE FEDERAL RESERVE ACT IS SIGNED INTO LAW BY PRESIDENT WOODROW WILSON, CREATING THE FEDERAL RESERVE SYSTEM.
Over a hundred years later, there's probably not much left in it.
1919: SEX DISQUALIFICATION (REMOVAL) ACT 1919 BECOMES LAW IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.
What? Who? How? Ouch.
1935: FOOTBALL STAR PAUL HORNUNG IS BORN.
For all you Cheese Heads out there.
1938: DISCOVERY OF THE FIRST MODERN COELACANTH IN SOUTH AFRICA.
Any guesses?
1941: WORLD WAR II - AFTER 15 DAYS OF FIGHTING, THE JAPANESE ARMY OCCUPIES WAKE ISLAND.
Oh, sure, they're on a roll. For now.
1943: ACTOR HARRY SHEARER IS BORN.
Smithers!!!!!
1946: ACTRESS SUSAN LUCCI IS BORN.
And her mother welcomed....all her children.
1947: THE TRANSISTOR IS FIRST DEMONSTRATED AT BELL LABS.
You mean I can hear radio out of this little thing?
1954: THE FIRST SUCCESSFUL KIDNEY TRANSPLANT.
And how many were unsuccessful?
1968: THE 82 SAILORS FROM THE USS PUEBLO ARE RELEASED AFTER ELEVEN MONTHS OF INTERNMENT IN NORTH KOREA.
Back then, they captured submarines. Today, they hijack computer servers.
1970: THE NORTH TOWER OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTER IN NY BECOMES THE TALLEST BUILDING IN THE WORLD.
For the next 31 years.
1982: ACTOR JACK WEBB DIES.
The obituary you are about to read is true.
1982: THE US ENVIRONMENTAL PROTECTION AGENCY ANNOUNCES IT HAS IDENTIFIED DANGEROUS LEVELS OF DIOXIN IN MISSOURI.
The stuff I wash my hair with is called Nioxin. I wonder what the hell kind of damage I'm doing to my scalp.
1986: VOYAGER, PILOTED BY DICK RUTAN AND JEANA YEAGER, LANDS IN CALIFORNIA, BECOMING THE FIRST AIRCRAFT TO FLY NON-STOP AROUND THE WORLD WITHOUT AERIAL OR GROUND REFUELING.
But I bet they still lost some luggage.
2000: ACTOR BILLY BARTY DIES.
He was 76, so he didn't come up that short.
2000: PIANIST VICTOR BORGE DIES.
Period semi-colon.
2010: A MONSOONAL TROUGH CROSSES THE NORTHEASTERN COAST OF AUSTRALIA FROM THE CORAL SEA.
Right in the middle of Australia's summer season.
2012: MURDERER JEAN HARRIS DIES.
Guilty.
Dinner last night: Leftover spaghetti and meatballs.
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Christmas Albums You Don't Want
Gone With The Wind Meets Santa Claus.
I need a little Golddigger.
For Jimmy Pelham fans only. You know who you are.
Hope there's a grooming kit in one of those presents.
And you thought he was just about the elves.
Now that's a duet.
Well, as long as it's the uncut version.
And you worry about cats eating the tinsel?
Mrs. Claus might be the last to know.
Not that Tiny Tim.
Your basic Yuletide minstrel show.
Could Travolta's head look any more plastic??
Dinner last night: Orange chicken and broccoli.
I need a little Golddigger.
For Jimmy Pelham fans only. You know who you are.
Hope there's a grooming kit in one of those presents.
And you thought he was just about the elves.
Now that's a duet.
Well, as long as it's the uncut version.
And you worry about cats eating the tinsel?
Mrs. Claus might be the last to know.
Not that Tiny Tim.
Your basic Yuletide minstrel show.
Could Travolta's head look any more plastic??
Dinner last night: Orange chicken and broccoli.
Monday, December 21, 2015
Monday Morning Video Laugh - December 21, 2015
A Christmas tradition.
Dinner last night: Spaghetti and meatballs.
Sunday, December 20, 2015
The Sunday Memory Drawer - Ten Classic Movies to Watch This Christmas
It's back. My annual holiday service to you. And don't we all need a break today?
Maybe the weather outside is frightful. Or you're wrapping presents. Baking cookies. You might want to multi-task by watching one of these movie suggestions. They're all available on DVD. And Turner Classic Movies shows several of them every year.
These are my 10 must-watch movies for every Christmas. And please note that "Miracle on 34th Street," "It's A Wonderful Life," and "A Christmas Story" are not included. Don't get me wrong. They are all terrific films, but played to death everywhere but in my house. These movies all have personal connections to me in some shape or form. So, if you disagree, I hope there's some coal mixed in with your buttered popcorn.
1. I saw "Meet Me in St. Louis" in a theater for the very first time last year. They dragged out co-star June Lockhart for a post-film question-and-answer. Ironically, most of the people were there to ask her all about the TV show "Lost in Space." Hell, I want to know what Angela Cartwright is doing myself.
None of that has anything to do with how wonderful a holiday treat this movie is. Truth be told, Christmas only makes up one-quarter of the movie as it follows the Smith family through one whole year prior to the opening of the St. Louis World Fair in 1904. Each portion is devoted to a calendar season and Christmas dominates the winter as it should.
The scene where a dateless Judy Garland has to dance with her grandfather at the big Christmas Eve ball is priceless. He twirls her around the Christmas tree and she magically reappears with her beau who was late in arriving. One of those very simple cinematic moments that only director Vincente Minnelli could turn into pure gold.
Of course, this is the film that sports my very favorite Christmas song..."Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." If you've heard countless versions of this ditty, you need to listen to the very best rendition by Miss Garland.
I remember watching "Meet Me in St. Louis" with my mom when I was about seven or eight. In the middle of it all, she blurts out "if you had been a girl, I was going to name you Judy."
Okay. So, there's that.
2. This is a mid-40s classic from the Warner Brothers back lot. In fact, they don't even get off a soundstage. For a movie from that era, it is still surprisingly modern. Because star Barbara Stanwyck plays a character very similar to Martha Stewart. A magazine writer who specializes in being an expert on hearth and home. And supposedly the greatest cook on the planet.
Her publisher hits on a publicity stunt where Stanwyck will provide a home-cooked Christmas meal for an injured soldier. Except nobody knows the woman can't cook and hasn't got one single domestic talent. The plot spins out into several directions from there, but it is all delicious screwball-y fun. And any movie that features S.Z "Cuddles" Sakall is okay in my book. This is a perfect film to watch while wrapping gifts on Christmas Eve day. Or if you're finished off a quart of egg nog. With popularity of the Food Network, this movie should be remade. I want to work on that script now.
3. This is technically not a Christmas movie, but it should be, since all the action happens around the holidays. This 1941 movie is another one that never leaves a Warner Brothers soundstage, but it really doesn't have to. You may know that this was originally a big hit on Broadway as written by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman. And two members of that cast, Monty Wooley and Mary Wickes, reprise their roles in the movie, which features the most razor sharp dialogue ever captured on celluloid.
There's not one unclever moment in the entire six reels. Who can't identify with the holiday guest who just won't leave? In this case, it's renowed critic and lecturer Sheridan Whiteside, who sprains his ankle and then sets up camp in somebody else's house for the holidays. As portrayed by Wooley, Whiteside is loosely based on Alexander Woolcott and he has one great barb after another. He's described this way: "He would have his mother burned at the stake if that was the only way he could light his cigarette." I wish people talked like these characters in real life.
When Whiteside's nurse (Mary Wickes) forbids him from eating some candy, he retorts, "My great Aunt Jennifer ate a box of candy every day of her life. She lived to be one hundred and two, and when she had been dead for three days, she looked better than you do now." If that's not enough, throw in the fact that this is the only movie in history that co-starred Bette Davis and Jimmy Durante! Grab a box of your own candy and savor this great Christmas treat.
I had both my parents housed in separate hospitals with illnesses. Unfortunately, my dad was in the final stages of his cancer and this year would be his last Christmas. My mom was sequestered elsewhere dealing with one more smoke-provoked bronchial episode. I spent the holiday season shuttling between semi-private rooms located on opposite ends of Westchester. And I felt incredibly alone.
"White Christmas" gave me a little bit of hope and brightness for some darker days that would come. And it still shines for me every year. Plus it's my second "must watch" holiday film featuring Mary Wickes.
5. Yeah, yeah, you've never heard of it. I did list it as #25 on my list of Top 25 Favorite Films of All Time, but perhaps you missed that entry. And you say it's not a Christmas movie??
Oh, pish and tosh. The film opens and ends on Christmas day one year later. Good enough for me. And it embodies everything that Christmas is all about.
Claudette Colbert plays the mother of Jennifer Jones and Shirley Temple (here, she's a teenager and Bill Robinson-less). The family is semi-well-to-do and lives in Everytown, USA. Hattie McDaniel, who was obviously highlighted in Selznick's phone book for all servant roles, is their housekeeper and there is not a single stereotypical note to her performance. You never see the father as he has just left for active duty on Christmas Eve as the film opens. What follows is a year in the life of the Hilton family with Dad gone.
You visit USO dances. You experience food rationing and scrap metal drives. You watch as neighbors lose loved ones in battle and then sense the uneasiness as others in the community grapple to find the right words to comfort them. It is probably the truest picture of life in our country as that war raged on in Europe and the South Pacific. The courage. The resiliency. The dread. It is all here in this terrific slice of Americana.
I came to see this movie for the first time about 20 years ago. I've probably seen it once a year ever since and always during Christmas week. For me, it is a annual reminder of my grandmother, who was a mother during World War II. And she shared virtually all of the stories that are portrayed on screen. On cold winter Sunday afternoons, I would sit in her living room and hear about rationing and community dances and the fear that wrapped around you when a letter from the government arrived in the mail. She lost a son in France in 1945---I was named after him. This movie gives me more than a history lesson. It gives me back my grandmother one more time.
"Since You Went Away" turns up on Turner Classic Movies. It is worth three hours of your time. I defy you not to well up at the end of Act 1 or just prior to the finale. I double defy you.
There's no magical story why I am so connected to this film. I did not see "The Apartment" till well after I got out of college. Now, it's one I see every year. It is an essential part of my annual film viewing. But, every time I see it, there is some new emotion or nuance that reveals itself to me. Perhaps it's a look or gesture from Shirley McLaine or Fred MacMurray that I missed. Maybe it's a line of dialogue that I suddenly realize was set up by another line of dialogue one reel earlier. There's always some new discovery for me.
And maybe it will be a discovery for you. As well as the rest of the movies on this list. Sure to bring holiday cheer...and even a tear...to your Christmas festivities. Watch them with friends and family. Watch them alone.
Just watch them. And, if the Christmas tree lights are twinkling in the background, even better.
Dinner last night: Moo shu beef from Century Dragon while watching...Christmas in Connecticut.
Maybe the weather outside is frightful. Or you're wrapping presents. Baking cookies. You might want to multi-task by watching one of these movie suggestions. They're all available on DVD. And Turner Classic Movies shows several of them every year.
These are my 10 must-watch movies for every Christmas. And please note that "Miracle on 34th Street," "It's A Wonderful Life," and "A Christmas Story" are not included. Don't get me wrong. They are all terrific films, but played to death everywhere but in my house. These movies all have personal connections to me in some shape or form. So, if you disagree, I hope there's some coal mixed in with your buttered popcorn.
1. I saw "Meet Me in St. Louis" in a theater for the very first time last year. They dragged out co-star June Lockhart for a post-film question-and-answer. Ironically, most of the people were there to ask her all about the TV show "Lost in Space." Hell, I want to know what Angela Cartwright is doing myself.
None of that has anything to do with how wonderful a holiday treat this movie is. Truth be told, Christmas only makes up one-quarter of the movie as it follows the Smith family through one whole year prior to the opening of the St. Louis World Fair in 1904. Each portion is devoted to a calendar season and Christmas dominates the winter as it should.
The scene where a dateless Judy Garland has to dance with her grandfather at the big Christmas Eve ball is priceless. He twirls her around the Christmas tree and she magically reappears with her beau who was late in arriving. One of those very simple cinematic moments that only director Vincente Minnelli could turn into pure gold.
Of course, this is the film that sports my very favorite Christmas song..."Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." If you've heard countless versions of this ditty, you need to listen to the very best rendition by Miss Garland.
I remember watching "Meet Me in St. Louis" with my mom when I was about seven or eight. In the middle of it all, she blurts out "if you had been a girl, I was going to name you Judy."
Okay. So, there's that.
2. This is a mid-40s classic from the Warner Brothers back lot. In fact, they don't even get off a soundstage. For a movie from that era, it is still surprisingly modern. Because star Barbara Stanwyck plays a character very similar to Martha Stewart. A magazine writer who specializes in being an expert on hearth and home. And supposedly the greatest cook on the planet.
Her publisher hits on a publicity stunt where Stanwyck will provide a home-cooked Christmas meal for an injured soldier. Except nobody knows the woman can't cook and hasn't got one single domestic talent. The plot spins out into several directions from there, but it is all delicious screwball-y fun. And any movie that features S.Z "Cuddles" Sakall is okay in my book. This is a perfect film to watch while wrapping gifts on Christmas Eve day. Or if you're finished off a quart of egg nog. With popularity of the Food Network, this movie should be remade. I want to work on that script now.
3. This is technically not a Christmas movie, but it should be, since all the action happens around the holidays. This 1941 movie is another one that never leaves a Warner Brothers soundstage, but it really doesn't have to. You may know that this was originally a big hit on Broadway as written by Moss Hart and George S. Kaufman. And two members of that cast, Monty Wooley and Mary Wickes, reprise their roles in the movie, which features the most razor sharp dialogue ever captured on celluloid.
There's not one unclever moment in the entire six reels. Who can't identify with the holiday guest who just won't leave? In this case, it's renowed critic and lecturer Sheridan Whiteside, who sprains his ankle and then sets up camp in somebody else's house for the holidays. As portrayed by Wooley, Whiteside is loosely based on Alexander Woolcott and he has one great barb after another. He's described this way: "He would have his mother burned at the stake if that was the only way he could light his cigarette." I wish people talked like these characters in real life.
When Whiteside's nurse (Mary Wickes) forbids him from eating some candy, he retorts, "My great Aunt Jennifer ate a box of candy every day of her life. She lived to be one hundred and two, and when she had been dead for three days, she looked better than you do now." If that's not enough, throw in the fact that this is the only movie in history that co-starred Bette Davis and Jimmy Durante! Grab a box of your own candy and savor this great Christmas treat.
4. Yeah, yeah, I know. An obvious choice. And, gee, Len, isn't this movie shown to death already? Sadly, "White Christmas" is starting to fall in that category---the Christmas movie that is starting to look like your tree on January 15. Dried out and ready for the dumpster. You can thank some cable networks like the woefully annoying AMC for playing it over and over and over.
Gee, thanks, idiots. Because you're destroying another movie that landed on the list of my Top 25 Favorite Films of All Time at slot #23. Sure, after repeated viewings, this film starts to look like "Off White Christmas." But, miraculously, recent digital restorations have made this look glorious all over again. All of a sudden, it's the hot and in thing to run this movie in theaters. Try to see it on the big screen if you can. I just did again the other night. But if you can't, the Blu Ray edition will do. I'd be happy to loan you mine.
Right from the moment that Paramount's Vistavision logo exploded onto the screen to the last frames of the movie when the Pine Tree Lodge is celebrating a snowy Christmas Eve, I was moved to tears all over again. Just like the very first time I saw it about 24 years ago. When I was having a pretty crappy holiday and this boosted my spirits like a Vitamin B-12 injection.
Right from the moment that Paramount's Vistavision logo exploded onto the screen to the last frames of the movie when the Pine Tree Lodge is celebrating a snowy Christmas Eve, I was moved to tears all over again. Just like the very first time I saw it about 24 years ago. When I was having a pretty crappy holiday and this boosted my spirits like a Vitamin B-12 injection.
I had both my parents housed in separate hospitals with illnesses. Unfortunately, my dad was in the final stages of his cancer and this year would be his last Christmas. My mom was sequestered elsewhere dealing with one more smoke-provoked bronchial episode. I spent the holiday season shuttling between semi-private rooms located on opposite ends of Westchester. And I felt incredibly alone.
"White Christmas" gave me a little bit of hope and brightness for some darker days that would come. And it still shines for me every year. Plus it's my second "must watch" holiday film featuring Mary Wickes.
Oh, pish and tosh. The film opens and ends on Christmas day one year later. Good enough for me. And it embodies everything that Christmas is all about.
"Since You Went Away" came out in 1944 and it is 100% devoted to the homefront during WWII. For what "Mrs. Miniver" and "Hope and Glory" did for the London bombings (and I have a good friend who lived through that), "Since You Went Away" wonderfully depicts life in the United States when most men were overseas someplace and completely out of touch with their family and loved ones. David O. Selznick produced it and hoped to do for World War II what his earlier effort "Gone With the Wind" did for the Civil War. Yes, it's almost three hours long, but it sails by and, for me, is a big screen version of the best macaroni and cheese you can ever eat.
Claudette Colbert plays the mother of Jennifer Jones and Shirley Temple (here, she's a teenager and Bill Robinson-less). The family is semi-well-to-do and lives in Everytown, USA. Hattie McDaniel, who was obviously highlighted in Selznick's phone book for all servant roles, is their housekeeper and there is not a single stereotypical note to her performance. You never see the father as he has just left for active duty on Christmas Eve as the film opens. What follows is a year in the life of the Hilton family with Dad gone.
You visit USO dances. You experience food rationing and scrap metal drives. You watch as neighbors lose loved ones in battle and then sense the uneasiness as others in the community grapple to find the right words to comfort them. It is probably the truest picture of life in our country as that war raged on in Europe and the South Pacific. The courage. The resiliency. The dread. It is all here in this terrific slice of Americana.
I came to see this movie for the first time about 20 years ago. I've probably seen it once a year ever since and always during Christmas week. For me, it is a annual reminder of my grandmother, who was a mother during World War II. And she shared virtually all of the stories that are portrayed on screen. On cold winter Sunday afternoons, I would sit in her living room and hear about rationing and community dances and the fear that wrapped around you when a letter from the government arrived in the mail. She lost a son in France in 1945---I was named after him. This movie gives me more than a history lesson. It gives me back my grandmother one more time.
"Since You Went Away" turns up on Turner Classic Movies. It is worth three hours of your time. I defy you not to well up at the end of Act 1 or just prior to the finale. I double defy you.
6. Forget "Elf" and any other Yuletide crap that Hollywood has passed off the last few years. The best Christmas movie to be produced in the last ten or so years is "Love Actually." It's one of those ultra-episodic scripts where about 15 characters have different storylines that may or may not be connected. It's a little confusing at first, as you meet practically the entire London phone book. But, hang on and you will get a wonderful present.
Sure, there are about five characters and three storylines too many. But, they will scoot by quickly and you can revel in the more compelling tales. Laura Linney as a secretary who can't commit to any romance. Liam Neeson who is trying to be a parent to his young stepson as they both experience their first Noel without the recently-died Mom. The shaky marriage between Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson, who breaks your heart as she listens to a Joni Mitchell CD version of "Both Sides Now." I even liked Hugh Grant as a Tony Blair-like British Prime Minister. And there is a rendition of "All I Want for Christmas is You" that gives you goose bumps. If you've ever wanted to spend Christmas in London, this is the ideal virtual way to do so.
Sure, there are about five characters and three storylines too many. But, they will scoot by quickly and you can revel in the more compelling tales. Laura Linney as a secretary who can't commit to any romance. Liam Neeson who is trying to be a parent to his young stepson as they both experience their first Noel without the recently-died Mom. The shaky marriage between Alan Rickman and Emma Thompson, who breaks your heart as she listens to a Joni Mitchell CD version of "Both Sides Now." I even liked Hugh Grant as a Tony Blair-like British Prime Minister. And there is a rendition of "All I Want for Christmas is You" that gives you goose bumps. If you've ever wanted to spend Christmas in London, this is the ideal virtual way to do so.
7. Okay, what's a Christmas without one Disney cartoon? And this one is the best in my book. Because it was my mother's favorite cartoon. Curiously, I don't remember seeing it with her on one of the many Disney re-issues over the years. But, when it came out on...wait for it...VHS several decades ago, I bought it and we watched it together one Christmas afternoon. Suddenly, I was the child again and Mom was the parent again. Indeed, as always happens with aging folks, the dynamic had reversed. But, not on this day. Thank you, Lady and the Tramp, for one of the very last good and lasting memories of my mom.
8. And then there's Christmas with Dad. Here's the movie that connects me to him every December. And, no worries. This rollicking World War II comedy has a set piece that happens on Christmas Day when Tony Curtis is trying to steal some Polynesian farmer's pig for dinner. But, moreover, this is the movie that I remember hearing my father laughing out loud for the very first time.
I know I saw it with him in a theater. I do believe it played at the RKO Proctors in Mount Vernon, New York around Christmas time. This may have been the way that I was shuttled out of the house for a few hours so that Mom could wrap my presents. A lot of the ribald gags might have gone over my head. But I didn't care.
My dad was convulsed with laughter. And this was not a sight I saw frequently. Plus there was one line that he repeated over and over and over when we got home.
"Can this submarine go down?"
"Like a rock."
For some reason, Dad loved that exchange. Meanwhile, I did the same thing with this film when it came out many years ago on....wait for it again...VHS. I watched it with my father one holiday season.
He still laughed.
9. Okay, truth be told, I don't watch "Ben-Hur" every year. Since I'm already devoting three hours to "Since You Went Away," I'm not sure I have the time to view this three-hour-plus epic. But, frequently, I can hear the voices in my head. Most notably that of my mother, who used to drag me to every Biblical movie ever made. She may not have gone to church, but she sure did run to the theater every time Charlton Heston appeared in a gladiator outfit. Oddly enough, this was not one of the movies she took me to.
But then there was one holiday season where Judah Ben-Hur and I finally crossed paths.
On December 30, 1987, I tripped on my sneaker laces coming out of my bathroom. Falling forward, I landed on my right arm with pain so severe that it actually made me laugh. Nevertheless, I still headed out for the evening, totally ignorant of the fact that I had fractured the rotator cuff in my right shoulder.
I was less ignorant in the morning when the excruciating pain and a neighbor drove me to the emergency room.
Happy F-ing New Year!
I couldn't raise a glass of cheer, because I could barely raise a pencil. So, I was cooped up for the frivolity. And, to get my mind off my chipped bones, I decided to rent the longest movie I could find at the video store. That would be the 1959 rendition of "Ben-Hur," which I had surprisingly never seen. And, so I sat in front of a 19 inch television, arm in a sling and watching, for the first time, one of the biggest and successful epics Hollywood had ever made. It was probably the worst way to sample this film. And I certainly have seen it several times since in much better viewing conditions. But, I can't say that I have enjoyed it more than I did that very first time.
"Ben-Hur" is total validation that, at one isolated point in the fixed universe, Charlton Heston could really act. For a movie that is so large in scope and long in running time, "Ben-Hur" is an incredibly intimate story. Because, indeed, it's about one man's spiritual awakening.
Many of the movie's sequences are so legendary that all I have to do is simply mention them and you can conjure up an immediate image. The ship's galley. The chariot race. The leper colony. But, for me, the most memorable scenes are the ones where Judah Ben-Hur encounters Jesus Christ. The first time finds a beaten Judah, enslaved in a road gang, and a traveling Jesus gives him a drink of water. Many reels later, Judah returns the favor when Christ falls in front of him while carrying the cross to his own crucifixion. The symmetry of those two points in the movie is truly amazing and wonderfully choreographed by director William Wyler.
Of course, this was in the day when Hollywood worked hard to never show Jesus Christ's face on camera. Today, they probably would have no shame and they'd probably even cast Seth Rogan in the part.
You can't truly appreciate "Ben-Hur" until you see it on a big screen. And a wide one. A really wide one like the Egyptian Theater had several years back when I saw it there. But the Blu-Ray on the 42 inch-screen in my living room last year wasn't bad either.
And my arm wasn't in a sling.
10. Okay, one more and I'm saving the best for last. Truth be told, I watch "The Apartment" every year during the week between Christmas and New Year's. Both those holidays are featured in the film, but it's the really organic blend of comedy and drama that makes it perfect for the post-Christmas doldrums. You will laugh. You will cry. You will be moved. It is life itself and that's why "The Apartment" is my #1 favorite movie of all time. To understand it is to understand what we all deal with every single day.I know I saw it with him in a theater. I do believe it played at the RKO Proctors in Mount Vernon, New York around Christmas time. This may have been the way that I was shuttled out of the house for a few hours so that Mom could wrap my presents. A lot of the ribald gags might have gone over my head. But I didn't care.
My dad was convulsed with laughter. And this was not a sight I saw frequently. Plus there was one line that he repeated over and over and over when we got home.
"Can this submarine go down?"
"Like a rock."
For some reason, Dad loved that exchange. Meanwhile, I did the same thing with this film when it came out many years ago on....wait for it again...VHS. I watched it with my father one holiday season.
He still laughed.
9. Okay, truth be told, I don't watch "Ben-Hur" every year. Since I'm already devoting three hours to "Since You Went Away," I'm not sure I have the time to view this three-hour-plus epic. But, frequently, I can hear the voices in my head. Most notably that of my mother, who used to drag me to every Biblical movie ever made. She may not have gone to church, but she sure did run to the theater every time Charlton Heston appeared in a gladiator outfit. Oddly enough, this was not one of the movies she took me to.
But then there was one holiday season where Judah Ben-Hur and I finally crossed paths.
On December 30, 1987, I tripped on my sneaker laces coming out of my bathroom. Falling forward, I landed on my right arm with pain so severe that it actually made me laugh. Nevertheless, I still headed out for the evening, totally ignorant of the fact that I had fractured the rotator cuff in my right shoulder.
I was less ignorant in the morning when the excruciating pain and a neighbor drove me to the emergency room.
Happy F-ing New Year!
I couldn't raise a glass of cheer, because I could barely raise a pencil. So, I was cooped up for the frivolity. And, to get my mind off my chipped bones, I decided to rent the longest movie I could find at the video store. That would be the 1959 rendition of "Ben-Hur," which I had surprisingly never seen. And, so I sat in front of a 19 inch television, arm in a sling and watching, for the first time, one of the biggest and successful epics Hollywood had ever made. It was probably the worst way to sample this film. And I certainly have seen it several times since in much better viewing conditions. But, I can't say that I have enjoyed it more than I did that very first time.
"Ben-Hur" is total validation that, at one isolated point in the fixed universe, Charlton Heston could really act. For a movie that is so large in scope and long in running time, "Ben-Hur" is an incredibly intimate story. Because, indeed, it's about one man's spiritual awakening.
Many of the movie's sequences are so legendary that all I have to do is simply mention them and you can conjure up an immediate image. The ship's galley. The chariot race. The leper colony. But, for me, the most memorable scenes are the ones where Judah Ben-Hur encounters Jesus Christ. The first time finds a beaten Judah, enslaved in a road gang, and a traveling Jesus gives him a drink of water. Many reels later, Judah returns the favor when Christ falls in front of him while carrying the cross to his own crucifixion. The symmetry of those two points in the movie is truly amazing and wonderfully choreographed by director William Wyler.
Of course, this was in the day when Hollywood worked hard to never show Jesus Christ's face on camera. Today, they probably would have no shame and they'd probably even cast Seth Rogan in the part.
You can't truly appreciate "Ben-Hur" until you see it on a big screen. And a wide one. A really wide one like the Egyptian Theater had several years back when I saw it there. But the Blu-Ray on the 42 inch-screen in my living room last year wasn't bad either.
And my arm wasn't in a sling.
There's no magical story why I am so connected to this film. I did not see "The Apartment" till well after I got out of college. Now, it's one I see every year. It is an essential part of my annual film viewing. But, every time I see it, there is some new emotion or nuance that reveals itself to me. Perhaps it's a look or gesture from Shirley McLaine or Fred MacMurray that I missed. Maybe it's a line of dialogue that I suddenly realize was set up by another line of dialogue one reel earlier. There's always some new discovery for me.
And maybe it will be a discovery for you. As well as the rest of the movies on this list. Sure to bring holiday cheer...and even a tear...to your Christmas festivities. Watch them with friends and family. Watch them alone.
Just watch them. And, if the Christmas tree lights are twinkling in the background, even better.
Dinner last night: Moo shu beef from Century Dragon while watching...Christmas in Connecticut.
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