This Date in History - April 30

 

Happy birthday, George Takei.  Oh, my.

1303:  THE SAPIENZA UNIVERSITY OF ROME IS INSTITUTED BY POPE BONIFACE VIII.

Which means there were seven other Popes before him named Boniface.

1653;  OLIVER CROMWELL DISSOLVES THE RUMP PARLIAMENT.

Which probably sat on their...go ahead and finish it.

1657:  FREEDOM OF RELIGION IS GRANTED TO THE JEWS OF NEW AMSTERDAM.  

I thought that was Morey Amsterdam.

1775: AMERICAN REVOLUTION - THE SIEGE OF BOSTON BEGINS.  

So close to Marathon Day?

1789:  GEORGE WASHINGTON ARRIVES IN PHILADELPHIA EN ROUTE TO NEW YORK FOR HIS INAUGURATION.

Back then, this trip must have taken weeks.

1836:  THE US CONGRESS PASSES AN ACT CREATING THE WISCONSIN TERRITORY.

Cheeseheads, rejoice!

1862:  LOUIS PASTEUR AND CLAUDE BERNARD COMPLETE THE EXPERIMENT FALSIFYING THE THEORY OF SPONTANEOUS GENERATION.

I don't see the word milk anywhere in that sentence.

1893:  ACTOR HAROLD LLOYD IS BORN.

Perhaps the most underrated of all silent movie comics.

1902:  PIERRE AND MARIE CURIE REFINE RADIUM CHLORIDE.

Let's pour it on something and see what happens.

1912:  OPENING DAY FOR BASEBALL'S TIGER STADIUM IN DETROIT AND FENWAY PARK IN BOSTON.

Oddly, one of them still exists.

1912:  AUTHOR BRAM STOKER DIES.

The sun must have come up.

1914:  ACTRESS BETTY LOU GERSON IS BORN.

Who, you say?  The voice of the greatest Dinsey villain, Cruella Deville, I say.

1916:  THE CHICAGO CUBS PLAY THEIR FIRST GAME AT WHAT WILL BECOME WRIGLEY FIELD.

World Series flag to follow.   Yeah, right.

1923:  MOTHER ANGELICA IS BORN.

That nun you see on the back channels of every cable system.

1926:  WESTERN ELECTRIC AND WARNER BROS.  ANNOUNCE VITAPHONE, A PROCESS TO ADD SOUND TO FILM.

You ain't heard nothing yet.

1937:  ACTOR GEORGE TAKEI IS BORN.

Who knew that his greatest claim to fame would be a regular lambasting on the Howard Stern Show?

1939:  ADOLF HITLER'S 50TH BIRTHDAY IS CELEBRATED AS A NATIONAL HOLIDAY IN NAZI GERMANY.

Put some gun powder in those candles.

1941:  ACTOR RYAN O'NEAL IS BORN.

Rodney Harrington.

1945:  WORLD WAR II - ADOLF HITLER MAKES HIS LAST TRIP OUT OF HIS BUNKER TO AWARD BOY SOLDIERS OF THE HITLER YOUTH.

And celebrates his last birthday.

1946:  THE LEAGUE OF NATIONS OFFICIALLY DISSOLVES, GIVING MOST OF ITS POWER TO THE UNITED NATIONS.

Which becomes an even bigger joke.

1951:  DAN GAVRILLA PERFORMS THE FIRST SURGICAL REPLACEMENT OF A HUMAN ORGAN.  

And that organ was....?  Tell me.   I don't know.

1959:  ACTOR CLINT HOWARD IS BORN.

Ron's brother.

1972:  APOLLO 16, COMMANDED BY JOHN YOUNG, LANDS ON THE MOON.

With two other apparently nameless astronauts.

1984:  THE GOOD FRIDAY MASSACRE, AN EXTREMELY VIOLENT ICE HOCKEY PLAY GAME, IS PLAYED IN MONTREAL.

Massacre Night in Canada.

1992:  COMIC BENNY HILL DIES.

Never got him.

1993:  ACTOR CANTINFLAS DIES.

Around the world in 82 years.

1999:  VENTRILOQUIST SENOR WENCES DIES.

What is your first name, please?

1999:  THE COLUMBINE HIGH SCHOOL MASSACRE---13 PEOPLE KILLED IN COLORADO.

And unfortunately a revised business model for Michael Moore.

2008:  DANICA PATRICK WINS THE INDY JAPAN 300 BECOMING THE FIRST FEMALE DRIVER IN HISTORY TO WIN AN INDY CAR RACE.

The sexist remark would be to say that the pit stops took longer.

2019:  ACTOR PETER MAYHEW DIES.

Chewie!

2022:  SINGER NAOMI JUDD DIES.

Mama!!

Dinner last night:    Orrchietta with sausage and broccoli rabe at Gianna's.

Hollywood Then and Now - April 2025

Well, more like NY Hollywood this month.   Because it is easy to find a memorable exterior of a TV home whose interior was found at CBS Television City in Hollywood.

Remember the Archie Bunker home?

Well, here it is in its original location on Cooper Street in Flushing.

I do recall an error here.  Many times you saw the Bunker front porch.  Indeed, the pictures don't fib.  No porch to be found.

But...those were the days.

Dinner last night:  Eggplant parmesan at La Catena in Ardsley.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - April 28, 2025

 Our month of Monday game show mania wraps up with just two words.

Paul Lynde.

Dinner last night:  SPO at Carlo's in Yonkers.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - Neighbors

 

The house in the photo above looks pretty much the same as it did when I was growing up in the white house to the left.  As a matter of fact, I can remember when the house wasn't even there and there was a vacant lot in its spot. 

I've told tales before of that empty patch of land and how it pitted me in an awkward position between the other kids on the block and my grandmother, who didn't want to be living next door to a playground.  Well, this is all about what happened when the lot owner sold the land for new construction.  And the very first inhabitants of that domicile.

The Antlers.  A family that provided a turning point for my family in so many ways.

But I need to put it in reverse briefly...

I can recall, brick-by-brick, the year or so that this home was constructed.  Where the lot was no longer a Ring-O-Levio destination for the other urchins in the neighborhood, the building site was now a wonderful place for me to go places I shouldn't have been.

This was to be a two-family house.  A small mother-in-law-like apartment on the first floor and the main living quarters on the second floor.  I knew this pretty quickly because I would wander around the place quite easily every weekend. 

I had discovered that the workmen never looked the doors when they weren't there.  So, every Saturday or Sunday, I'd help myself to a tour.  Hmm, the kitchen upstairs is half done.  Hmm, the bathtub is not in yet.  Wow, there are some steps missing in the staircase.

I probably should have broken my neck four or five times on these unauthorized sneak previews.  That's a nice and fancy way of saying that I was trespassing.

The promise of new neighbors rattled my family a little bit.  There was really no fence or hedge between our properties.  And our driveways would rest side-by-side and it would be important that there be detente.  We knew very little of the folks moving in, except that they were older and relocating to Mount Vernon from the Bronx.  Hell, back then, who didn't?  But, somehow, my folks became aware of some needed background information that was only spoken in whispers.  Finally, I pressed Mom for the goods.

"The new neighbors are Jewish."

What???

"The new neighbors are Jewish."

Huh?  Speak up please.

"The new neighbors are Jewish."

Oh.

Now, that wasn't that big a deal.  But, back then, folks traveled in their own circles.  We knew our relatives, who were mostly all German and Protestant.  And our block in Mount Vernon was practically all Italian and Roman Catholic.  So, we had too European countries and religions covered.  But, this one....

Jewish?

This would be our first curveball as a family.

My grandparents took it philosophically.  Grandma, as always, was the spokesperson for that generation.

"They'll stay in their yard.  We'll stay in ours."

She didn't really care since it was all upside for her.  From now on, her life was an upgrade as she was no longer retrieving errant Spaldeens from my friends. 

Grandma may have expressed ambivalence at the prospective new family, but she certainly did her share of spying out windows on the day of their arrival.  With salient commentary on the items being transported in.

"That dining room table looks so cheap."

"Their sofa has a tear in the back."

"Plastic slipcovers?"

Oh, Grandma, you mean like the ones you put on every summer?

"Mine look better."

Boy, these folks had no clue about the hornet's nest they were moving next door to.

Yep, the Antlers were here.  Max, his wife Anna, and his widowed sister Minnie who live in the small apartment downstairs.

I'd like to think that my family would be the one to extend their hands of friendship to the new neighbors, but it was the other way around.  The Antlers would be first to reach out.  In a very unique way.

On their second day in their new home, there was a quiet knock on our back door.  Grandma's interest was piqued.  Nobody ever knocked on the back door.

It was Max.

"You eat bread?"

Grandma was a little confused by the question.  Who didn't?

"Well, I work overnights at the Diamond bakery and you'll have fresh bread on your doorstep every morning."

And there was.  Plenty of it.  Onion rolls, kaiser rolls, rye breads, challah bread.  And then that inventory expanded even further.  To coffee crumb cakes and cheesecakes and struedels.  My family didn't set foot in a bakery again for years. 

Friendship came that simply.

It wasn't very long before the lawn chairs where my family was seated in the backyard moved ever so closer to the lawn chairs that housed Max, Anna, and Minnie.  And conversations over the most trivial of neighborhood matters always resulted.  Before long, they were all gossiping about the same people.

And we were chowing down on fresh baked goods with our own personal Entenmann's next door.

More importantly, religion never came up.

About a year after they moved in, the Antlers announced that they would be taking a month-long tour of Israel.  They had never been, as they put it, "home."  And would we see them off on their journey at the airport?

Now this was a really big deal for us.  None of us had ever been to an airport, let alone the newly-christened JFK Airport all the way out in Queens.  A location that tapped into two of my dad's patented excuses for not going someplace.

1:  "It's too far."

2:  "There's too much traffic."

As it turned out on the day of the Antlers' departure, my father's third excuse was served.  The temperature hovered around 95.

3:  "It's too hot."

But, fresh onion rolls every day being a lure, Dad's restrictions melted away quickly in the hot June sun.  We were off to JFK Airport for the first time. 

And to the departure terminal at El Al Airlines.

Gee, I had heard of Pan Am and TWA and American.  What was this airline?

"It's for Jewish people only."

Oh.

We went to a lounge in the terminal and toasted the Antlers off with champagne and, in my case, Coca Cola.  I had heard mysterious stuff about this Kosher food.  To me, the Coke tasted like, well, Coke.

Max and Anna had a grown daughter named Rhoda and she had all the same nuances and mannerisms that Valerie Harper brought to the name years later.  She even wore some "schmata" on her head whenever she visited with her husband Jesse and their teen-age son, Allen. 

Their kid was a few years ahead of me, but we played together nonetheless.  Or, in reality, talked together.  The age difference was a chasm as Allen appeared and sounded to be much more worldly.  With a language to boot. 

Some weeks later, I was in a snit over some injustice in my house and uttered an inappropriate body part in disgust.  Right in front of my mother. 

"Who taught you that word???  Allen???"

I didn't have the nerve to tell her that I probably heard it from one of the Italian kids up the street.  But, Mom's added barb was curious to me. 

"Those Jewish kids are so much freer with their language."

Hmmm.  In retrospect, it sounds anti-Semetic.  But, back in that day, my mother was simply stating something she had formulated from opinions and viewpoints handed down to her.  Did I really think you were more likely to hear private parts uttered in everyday banter by Jewish people?    As was the case with many mysteries of childhood, there was never any answer.

When my grandfather died, there was another barrier torn down.  Actually two. 

When my folks wisely decided not to inundate this 12-year-old completely in three days and nights of funeral parlor viewing, they asked Max and Anna to "babysit" me for the evening.  I was even invited over there for dinner.

I started to panic.  Was I at last going to eat Jewish food?  My mother almost jumped out of her skin.

"She's making hamburgers!!!"

Oh.

And, on Max' freshly baked onion rolls, they were delicious.

Meanwhile, Breakthrough #2 would fall in the Antler's column of personal growth and advancement.  They truly were grief-stricken about the passing of Grandpa and sheepishly came over to ask for an imposition.

Could they come to the funeral service?

We were all touched, but none of us had any idea just how big this was for our neighbors.

They had never ever gone to a Christian funeral.  Seeing someone dressed in a casket was totally alien to them.  It was a gracious gesture on their part.  I still remember them sitting in the back of the funeral home, staring ahead at Grandpa with Max' eyes glistening with sadness.

For some reason, as I got older, I remember little about how the Antler saga played out on South 15th Avenue in Mount Vernon, New York.  I had other interests in high school and college.  I think Minnie passed on first, then Max.  But those events seem very distant to me. 

Indeed, their stay in the house next door ultimately was fairly unremarkable.  They were simply neighbors.

But apparently so much more as each of us contributes in our smallest of ways to the brotherhood of man.

Dinner last night:   Wedding reception at the Brooklyn Winery.

Classic Movie Trailer of the Month - April 2025

Still dealing with this year's very late Easter holiday...with a movie that my mother would have made me go see. 

Dinner last night:  Honey shrimp at PF Chang's.

Your Kodak Instamatic Leftovers

 

The family that gets x-rayed together...

Well, it is Oktoberfest!

"The voice in my head is telling me to kill you."

You are always on my mind.

Planned Parenthood, phooey.

Eddie Cantor's baby picture.

Granny gets a lei.

I can't wait for the spin cycle.

Does that baby come with a side salad?

Father Sleeps Least.

Dinner last night:   Roast beef and salad.

Today's Expression Is....

 

A few days ago, I needed to amuse myself during a work-related Zoom call that was due to last at least two hours. So, I decided to count the number of times that somebody on the call used the hot new business buzzword.

Transparency.

In the space of a 134 minute conference call, this word (or the derivation "transparent") was dropped a grand total of 13 different times.

"In the spirit of transparency..."

"The goal is to appear transparent to the client."

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

So, when I was done with my counting, which was displayed above and is certainly not transparent to my readership, I tried to think of all the other words or phrases that got hot for about ten minutes in the business world.

Synergy.

Paradigm shift.

Multi-tasking.

Win-win.

Take it off-line.

Sidebar conversation.

Value-added.

Think out of the box.

Branding.

Market integration.

Top of mind awareness.

Out-sourced.

Low hanging fruit.

Get on the same page.

At the end of the day.

Call to action.

Okay, headache, anyone?

These words and phrases suddenly get traction in our everyday lives and you feel compelled to use them wherever and whenever. As if trying to make people like you in high school wasn't pressure enough, now we are forced to do so in adulthood.

But, more importantly, I have one basic question for the universe.

Who the hell comes up with these things? Who is the ultimate judge that tells us we must be on the same page at the end of the day with as much low hanging fruit as we can muster by thinking out of the box? Is it some lonely guy sitting in a small one-room walk-up on NY's East Side? Is there some think tank someplace in Nebraska that meets every six months to decide upon the upcoming year's hot phrases? Do they take suggestions from the general public? Because, frankly, nobody else has adopted the concept of "stepping in shit" as much as I have over time?

And, how is this new phraseology distributed to the masses? Does it come in some e-mail newsletter that might be going straight to my spam folder? Is it embedded in some secret code in the New York Times Business Section? Somebody needs to download this all to me because, obviously, my core competency and debriefing has been incrementally stalled. I eventually get the buzzword, but usually a calendar quarter or two late.

And isn't the concept of a buzzword ironic in its own nature? Because wasn't there a moment in time when the buzzword was "buzzword?"

Dinner last night:   Long day of travel so nothing really.

This Date in History - April 23

 

Today is Valerie Bertinelli's birthday.  I declare this a national holiday!

599: MAYA KING UNEH CHAN OF CALAKMUL ATTACKS RIVAL CITY STATE PALENQUE IN SOUTHERN MEXICO, DEFEATING QUEEN YOHL IKNAI AND SACKING THE CITY.

Have some fun.  See how many letters of the alphabet are in that sentence.  And how many are missing.   Answers later.

711:  DAGOBERT III IS CROWNED KING OF THE FRANKS.

I thought that was Oscar Mayer.   Just so you know, I use that joke every time one of these historical facts talks about the King of the Franks.

1016:  EDMUND IRONSIDE SUCCEEDS HIS FATHER AS KING OF ENGLAND.

Cue the Quincy Jones theme.

1348:  THE FOUNDING OF THE ORDER OF THE GARTER BY KING EDWARD III IS ANNOUNCED.

Please place it on the right leg of the bride and bring the best man forward.

1635:  THE FIRST PUBLIC SCHOOL IN THE US, BOSTON LATIN SCHOOL, IS FOUNDED IN BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS.

By 1636, there were cries for integration.

1661:  KING CHARLES II OF ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND IRELAND IS CROWNED.

He sure covers a lot of ground.   And, for that matter, so did Jackie Gleason.

1815L  THE SECOND SERBIAN UPRISING ERUPTS SHORTLY AFTER THE ANNEXATION OF THE COUNTRY TO THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE.

That quiz above.   The opening sentence used 22 of 26 alphabet letters.   Only B, J, W, and Z are not included.

1910:  US PRESIDENT THEODORE ROOSEVELT MAKES HIS "THE MAN IN THE ARENA" SPEECH.

And that's a big deal, why?

1921:  BASEBALL PITCHER WARREN SPAHN IS BORN.

Spahn and Sain and two days of labor pains.

1927:  TURKEY BECOMES THE FIRST COUNTRY TO CELEBRATE CHILDREN'S DAY AS A NATIONAL HOLIDAY.

The second was Michael Jackson.

1928:  ACTRESS SHIRLEY TEMPLE IS BORN.

First birthday in heaven.

1932:  THE 153-YEAR-OLD DE ADRIAAN WINDMILL IN HAARLEM, NETHERLANDS BURNS DOWN.

So, is a basketball team over there called the Haarlem Globetrotters?

1935:  THE POLISH CONSTITUTION OF 1935 IS ADOPTED.

You would think there would be an easy joke to write, wouldn't you?

1939:  ACTOR LEE MAJORS IS BORN.

Or, in the case of this TV character, manufactured.

1942:  ACTRESS SANDRA DEE IS BORN.

Look at me, I'm.....

1945:  ADOLF HITLER'S DESIGNATED SUCCESSOR HERMANN GORING SENDS HIM A TELEGRAM ASKING PERMISSION TO TAKE LEADERSHIP OF THE THIRD REICH, WHICH CAUSES HITLER TO REPLACE HIM WITH JOSEPH GOEBBELS AND KARL DONITZ.

The final episodes.

1951:  AMERICAN JOURNALIST WILLIAM N. OATIS IS ARRESTED FOR ESPIONAGE BY THE COMMUNIST GOVERNMENT OF CZECHOSLOVAKIA.

Oatis, Czech, please.

1954:  FILMMAKER MICHAEL MOORE IS BORN.

Fat bastard.

1960:  ACTRESS VALERIE BERTINELLI IS BORN.

God bless her.

1968:  DURING THE VIETNAM WAR, STUDENT PROTESTERS AT COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY IN NEW YORK CITY TAKE OVER ADMINISTRATION BUILDINGS AND SHUT DOWN THE UNIVERSITY.

That's one way to avoid a pop quiz.

1983:  ACTOR BUSTER CRABBE DIES.

Flash Gordon!

1985:  COCA COLA CHANGES IT FORMULA AND RELEASES NEW COKE.

That was a bad idea that lasted just three months.

1986:  SONGWRITER HAROLD ARLEN DIES.

His real name was Hyman Arluck.   No fooling.

1986:  DIRECTOR OTTO PREMINGER DIES.

Talk about an exodus.

1990:  ACTRESS PAULETTE GODDARD DIES.

She shtupped Charlie Chaplin.  Oh, and made some movies.

1993:  FARM ACTIVIST CESAR CHAVEZ DIES.

He actually became a state holiday in California.  Once again, no fooling.

1995:  JOURNALIST HOWARD COSELL DIES.

That's another way to shut him up.

1996:  AUTHOR P.L. TRAVERS DIES.

Nothing can save Mr. Banks now.

1998:  ASSASSIN JAMES EARL RAY DIES.

Dirtbag.

2005:  ACTOR JOHN MILLS DIES.

He was 97 at the time.   Please, nobody say he died prematurely.

Dinner last night:   Leftover Orange Chicken.

The Best Show on TV Right Now

 

I told you that before.   Way back in October when the show first appeared and featured a mouth-dropping and surprising last two minutes of the pilot which had me hooked.

Little did I realize that it would be the best show on TV right now.   "Matlock" just finished its first season last week with a two-hour finale that again featured many jaws dropping...including mine.

After watching the 19 episodes of Season 1, I was struck most notably by the craftiness and cleverness of the scripts.  This staff really did their homework.   In the finale, you would see how something back in Episode 9 had an impact on the plot ten shows later.   Sheer brilliance as not a single word on the page went to waste.

Meanwhile, Kathy Bates and the cast are impeccable and all worthy of numerous accolades.  Indeed, it's remarkable to me that the best show on TV right now comes from the good ole conventional network CBS.  The hell with the likes of Apple and Max and Peacock and other streams.  "Matlock" reminds me of the old days of TV.  

I think back to Thursday nights thirty-five plus years ago when CBS dragged in eager viewers to "Knots Landing."   A water cooler show that was not to be missed.   The summer indeed was too long then.  

And, in the case of "Matlock's" upcoming season two, it's still too long.

Dinner last night:  SPO from my freezer.

Monday Morning Video Laugh - April 21,2025

 Game shows dominate this month of Mondays and there's no more of a hilarious moment than the late great Gilbert Gottfried on "Hollywood Squares."  You fool!!!!

Dinner last night:  Mandarin Orange Chicken.

The Sunday Memory Drawer - An Easter Road Trip

 Happy Easter to all.  

I don't know about your families, but this holiday lost a Christmas-like luster early on in my youth.  Sure, there are major points off for the lack of gift exchanges.  But, at some junction, my tribe stopped celebrating it together by the time I was in junior high.  It was frequently tough enough for us to sit around a dining room table in December, let alone a few months later.  There was always somebody not speaking to somebody else.  And, usually, a bunch of them were mad at my grandmother for one thing or another.

Now, since the bulk of my relatives came from my father's side of the ledger, there was a deadly dynamic that played into these family skirmishes.  And, with three sons still alive at the time, you could always expect that the trouble would arise from the forced relationships of their wives.  My mother and my aunts who had simply married into this nonsense.  And naturally they all had their own agendas to fight for.  Translation: there was always one pissed off at another.  And, for the most part, it was my mom as the referee-ing monkey in the middle.

As for me, I got along with both the wives of my dad's brothers.  As long as there was cash in the birthday and Christmas cards, you were bound to win my favor.  My mom tried to be Switzerland, too.  And then frequently had to endure complaints like "did you hear what that goddamn so-and-so said to me?"

This is a tale of one of those aunts.  Helen.  Shown here dressed to kill with my mom (clad in red, natch).  During those days where you dolled yourself up for a backyard summer barbecue in the Bronx.  Hot dogs, hamburgers, and mink stoles.  Doesn't that happen in every family??

Aunt Helen was married to my father's favorite brother, and he died very early on at the age of 45.  That devastated my dad and I can only imagine what that untimely departure did to my aunt and her kids.  My cousins were already teenagers in high school and always looked askance at yours truly, since I was much younger.  I had virtually no relationship with them.  And, frankly, I often steered clear of Aunt Helen.  An early widow, she always seemed to be crying.  I can remember many a New Year's Eve when my mom would urge me.

"Go over to Aunt Helen and give her a kiss for Happy New Year."

I'd look over to some sofa where Aunt Helen was sobbing her eyes out and I'd suddenly gravitate to some excuse that involved a contagious disease.   I clearly has a "crying phobia."

My mom and Aunt Helen were friendly and I believe they even worked together for a while at the Union Pen Company on McQuesten Parkway in Mount Vernon, New York.  I began to notice that she also had a variety of health issues.  Arthritis.  Eye surgery.  There were few times when I can remember Aunt Helen not sporting a bandage somewhere.  I would steer clear at those times as well.  I clearly also had a "bandage phobia."

Aunt Helen and family lived only a few blocks away from us, so we could easily walk over for a visit.  I was never comfortable there.  But, for the longest time, they were the only branch of my family that had a color television set.  For the glory of watching "Get Smart" with that NBC peacock, I easily dealt with the aforementioned phobias.

This is not to say that I didn't like Aunt Helen.  It's just that we had little in common and I could barely relate to her or her children.

So that's what makes one Easter so utterly bizarre?  I was either 14 0r 15.  Those high school years always blur together.  One night in the last week of Lent, my mother got a phone call from Aunt Helen, who was planning to drive down to see some of her own relatives in Maryland for Easter.

"I don't want to make the drive by myself.  I thought that maybe Lenny would like to come along for the ride."

My mom treated this invitation as if I had won an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii.  Aunt Helen, beyond a need for a car companion, reasoned that it would be great for me to see her nephew Arthur who just happened to be my age and we had made some sort of a connection in previous summers.

"Lenny could see Arthur and play with him."

Okay, I was a teenager and not looking to "play" with another guy.   And I was also not looking to spend four hours in a car...make that...trapped in a car with Aunt Helen.  But, when it came to these types of invitations, my mother did not have the word "no" in her vocabulary.  Besides we had no set plans for Easter and my parents likely looked forward to a few days of peace and quiet.  From me and from each other.  Rifts were already slowly starting to form.

I was stuck.

I packed for this trek as if I was headed to a date with electric furniture at Sing Sing.  Dreading every moment until Aunt Helen pulled in our driveway behind the wheel of her "big ass" Buick.

I felt like I was saying goodbye to Mount Vernon forever.

We weren't more than five miles away when I realized this trip was going to be a very different one.   

Aunt Helen popped WABC-AM on the car radio.  Hmmm, music I listened to.  While my own mom had been an early devotee to pop radio, even she had migrated to the softer sounds of the Tijuana Brass and Mantovani.  But not apparently Aunt Helen.  She was a-movin' and a-groovin' to the hits of today.

And singing along.

"Yummy, yummy, yummy, I got love in my tummy."

A moment that was so wrong.  But so amazingly real.  And enjoyable.  We sang as long as we could pick up WABC on the New Jersey Turnpike.  As soon as we reached the Delaware Bridge, Aunt Helen already knew which dial position to turn to in the area.

"And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson.  Jesus loves more than you will know.  Wo, wo, wo."

Beyond the traveling Sonny and Cher routine we were developing on the road,  there was another striking attribute to this ride.

Aunt Helen was talking to me like an adult.  Trust me, in my family, this didn't happen easily.  But, here she was, talking about her health and her unfiltered opinions about other relatives and friends.

"Don't tell your mother."

Okay, I won't.  And keep it coming, lady, because I'm loving every juicy minute of this.

When we finally got to her relatives' home in Odenton, Maryland, Aunt Helen didn't necessarily stop her free wheeling chatter.  As Arthur and I were older now, our "playtime" was not as much fun as it was when we were both eight years old.  So, my attention never really diverted from my chatty aunt, who was hilariously candid with her thoughts.  Especially when her own relatives were not within earshot.

"I can't believe they still haven't fixed that kitchen stove."

"I don't like that girlfriend of his.  A real golddigger."

"Arthur's got a weird smell.  I don't think he's using any deodorant.  Do you notice that?"

Well, yeah, I did, but I wasn't going to say anything.

I was petrified at the thought of this Easter weekend, but uncontrollably sad when it sped by at lightning speed.  Before I knew it, we were back on the New Jersey Turnpike going in the opposite direction.  With the car radio blasting.

"Young girl, get out of my mind.  My love for you is way out of line.  Better run girl, you're much too young girl."

And, as quickly as this connection with Aunt Helen was made, it was almost as speedily lost.    Our family became even more fractured.  I don't think Aunt Helen and I ever had another time like this trip.  As a matter of fact, I think she died maybe seven or eight years later.

But, as is obvious, I remember that one Easter.  A one-time-only bond with a single relative.   One that was not afraid to treat a kid like me as an adult.

Dinner last night: SPO Sandwich.

Classic Newsreel of the Month - April 2025

I went to Easter service twice at St. Patrick's.  I don't remember it being crowded.  Or people wearing hats. 

Dinner last night:  Swedish meat balls.

When Easter Bunnies Attack

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.

 

Paging Seth Rogen Fans

 

There must be two or three of you out there.  Frankly, I find him a very weak thespian and unlikeable to boot.

So, Len, why did you start watching the new Apple series "The Studio?"  I mean, after all, isn't Rogen the star and the director and the writer and the creator?

Yes to all four of those roles.   And nobody is more mystified than me that I have tuned into the first four episodes.   But I heard it was very Hollywood-oriented with lots of people playing versions of themselves.   I was intrigued.

Do I like it?  Sort of.  Do I hate it?  Sort of.   But I persist.  Go figure.

Now Rogen plays virtually himself although not really.   His character, the new development head of fictitious Continental Studios, is oily and annoying and hateful.  Few acting muscles are needed.   Each episode is focused on a production going on at the studio.  Martin Scorsese plays a weepy version of Martin Scorsese.  Ron Howard plays a foul-mouthed version of Ron Howard.  Zac Efron plays a bland version of Zac Efron, which might be redundant.  And in a homage to the Robert Altman film "The Player," Bryan Cranston is the studio owner named...Griffin Mill...the main character in "The Player."

Wink fucking wink.

Don't get me wrong.   There's a good thing or two in this show.  The always wonderful Catherine O'Hara as a recently ousted producer.  And one episode involves some comic confusion as the studio begins two projects around Kool Aid.  One is about the Jonestown massacre and the other is a Barbie-like film about the Kool Aid pitcher.

Am I hooked?  Sort of.   And do I still hate Seth Rogen?  Not sort of at all.  Obviously, I'm interested enough to overlook his four roles in the series.

Go figure.

Dinner last night:  Leftover chili.

This Date in History - April 16

 

Happy birthday, Jon Cryer. Thanks to the internet, there are stupid pictures of you out there.

73:  MASADA, A JEWISH FORTRESS, FALLS TO THE ROMAN AFTER SEVERAL MONTHS OF SIEGE, ENDING THE GREAT JEWISH REVOLT.

Everybody back to the house for bagels and lox.

1346: DUSAN THE MIGHTY IS PROCLAIMED EMPEROR WITH THE SERBIAN EMPIRE OCCUPYING MUCH OF THE BALKANS.

Didn't this guy get his own comic book?

1521:  MARTIN LUTHER'S FIRST APPEARANCE BEFORE THE DIET OF WORMS TO BE EXAMINED BY THE HOLY ROMAN EMPEROR CHARLES V.  

Diet of worms?   Anybody?

1582:  SPANISH CONQUISTADOR HERNANDO DE LERMA FOUNDS THE SETTLEMENT OF ARGENTINA.

Hernando's Hideaway, ole.

1780:  THE UNIVERSITY OF MUNSTER IN GERMANY IS FOUNDED.

Insert your favorite Fred Gwynne joke here.

1818:  THE UNITED STATES SENATE RATIFIES THE RUSH-BAGOT TREATY, ESTABLISHING THE BORDER WITH CANADA.

How else can we play hockey with Toronto and Montreal?

1862:  DURING THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR, A BILL ENDING SLAVERY IN THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA, BECOMES LAW.

But who's going to do Nancy Pelosi's kitchen floor????

1881:  IN DODGE CITY, KANSAS, BAT MASTERSON FIGHTS HIS LAST GUN BATTLE.

Years later, he was killed again.  By low Nielsen ratings.

1889:  ACTOR CHARLIE CHAPLIN IS BORN.

A genius comes into the world.

1912:  HARRIET QUIMBY BECOMES THE FIRST WOMAN TO FLY AN AIRPLANE ACROSS THE ENGLISH CHANNEL.

At least she wasn't one of those kooks who tried to swim it.

1919:  MOHANDAS GANDHI ORGANIZES A DAY OF PRAYER AND FASTING IN RESPONSE TO THE KILLING OF INDIAN PROTESTERS BY THE BRITISH COLONIAL TROOPS THREE DAYS EARLIER.

What the hell did England want with this armpit of a country anyway?

1924:  COMPOSER HENRY MANCINI IS BORN.

The Days of Wine and Contractions.

1927:  ACTRESS EDIE ADAMS IS BORN.

Well, you know her father must have given out cigars.

1927:  POPE BENEDICT XVI IS BORN.

Gone and already forgotten.

1933:  JOURNALIST IKE PAPPAS IS BORN.

He was right there when Ruby shot Oswald.

1935:  SINGER BOBBY VINTON IS BORN.  

He wore Blue Velvet.

1939:  SINGER DUSTY SPRINGFIELD IS BORN.

You don't have to say you love me.

1941:  BOB FELLER OF THE CLEVELAND INDIANS THROWS THE ONLY OPENING DAY NO-HITTER IN THE HISTORY OF BASEBALL, BEATING THE CHICAGO WHITE SOX 1-0.

Tough day to be on the south side of Chicago.   Actually, every day is a tough day to be on the south side of Chicago.

1945:  THE UNITED STATES ARMY LIBERATES NAZI SONDERLAGER PRISONER OF WAR CAMP, BETTER KNOWN AS COLDITZ.

Colditz?  Isn't that now over the counter?

1947:  MUSICIAN GERRY RAFFERTY IS BORN.

Baker Street!

1947:  BERNARD BARUCH COINS THE TERM "COLD WAR" TO DESCRIBE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THE UNITED STATES AND THE SOVIET UNION.

Everything cold is new again.

1962:  WALTER CRONKITE TAKES OVER AS THE LEAD NEWS ANCHOR OF THE CBS EVENING NEWS.

I guess that's the way it is.

1963:  DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. WRITES HIS LETTER FROM BIRMINGHAM JAIL WHILE INCARCERATED FOR PROTESTING AGAINST SEGREGATION.

Hello, Mudda, Hello, Fatha.

1968:  AUTHOR EDNA FERBER DIES.

How many book reports did this woman cause?

1990:  THE DOCTOR OF DEATH, JACK KEVORKIAN, PARTICIPATES IS HIS FIRST ASSISTED SUICIDE.

You won't feel a thing.

1991:  DIRECTOR DAVID LEAN DIES.

A Passage to Heaven.

2002:  ACTOR ROBERT URICH DIES.

It ain't Vegas, baby.

2012:  THE PULITZER PRIZE WINNERS ARE ANNOUNCED AND, FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 1977, NO BOOK WINS THE FICTION PRIZE.

Stranger than...

2013:  SPORTSCASTER PAT SUMMERALL DIES.

You just know it had to be liver-related.

2018:  ACTOR/MAGICIAN HARRY ANDERSON DIES.

Night Court no longer in session.

Dinner last night:  Sandwich.