Miles To Go by Bob Russo

2012-01-23T11:46:00.003-05:00

TIME IN A BOTTLE

Oh, for boyhood's painless play, sleep that wakes in laughing day,

health that mocks the doctor's rules, knowledge never learned in schools. John Greenleaf Whittier

Once or twice a week, I receive an email of videos or pictures depicting the decade of the 50’s.

And it got me to wondering.

Who is producing these high quality, music synched videos and more importantly who is watching them?

If you literally grew up in the decade of the fifties as I did, your age would seem to rule out the use of the Internet.

I was thirteen in 1950, and twenty three when the decade ended.

There are maybe one percent of “us” on the Internet.

Then for whom are these videos for?

I thought I would investigate the 50’s appeal.
When I last visited my High School/Old School year book, I was reminded of the Jim Croce hit song, “Time in a Bottle.”

I realized that the faces in my year book with few exceptions were “Time in a Bottle

Dorian Gray

I have not seen the guys in this picture, in fifty-five years, so in my mind they will always look like this.

Everyone remains eighteen.

Full heads of hair, pimple free faces (touched up by the photographer) and blind optimism shining on every face.

This was before cholesterol, before divorce, back when our parents were still alive and our problems were whether to go to the movies or to the dance.

Where else could you become eighteen again and not do a thing?

We all spent four years together but except for the guys from my neighborhood, I have no idea what happened to eighty percent of that class.

But we share memories that are completely ours.

Our football team remains undefeated and City Champs.

The Senior prom at the Ben Franklin Hotel is still perfect.

Our graduation at the Academy of Music is still unforgettable.

And then there was:

When you were madly in love. (weekly)

When you graduated high school still a virgin, but lied about it.

When there was Black Jack chewing gum, wax coke-shaped bottles with colored sugar water inside. (Yummy)

(Say hello to your dentist, your endocrinologist and your cardiologist)

Pea-Shooters, (you’ll put someone’s eye out), metal ice cube trays with a pull lever. (That you used and never refilled, big trouble.)

We used film and blue flashbulbs and waited a week to ten days for our pictures to be developed. Of course if your finger was in front of the lens you got sixteen pictures back completely useless, and of course paid the full price.

(Kodak declared bankruptcy this week.)

Dreaded phrases like, “You can go when you show me your homework.”

We drove our father’s Packards and Studebakers, Nash Ramblers and Hudson Hornets.

In the 50’s, Paper Mate made a leak proof ball point pen. (are fountain pens still in use?)

We listened to Sonny Till and The Orioles and their million seller, “Crying in the Chapel.” We danced to “Little Things Mean a Lot by Kitty Kallen and “Why Don’t You Believe Me” by Joni James, who was born Giovanna Carmella Babbo.

Joni appeared at New York’s Town Hall in 2006.

She was seventy-six.

We played with the “magic” Ouija Board (I didn’t move it, did you?!).

There were telephone exchanges that had names instead of numbers as prefixes.

My phone number was (Ho)ward 8-0949.

Chuck Berry’s Maybelline and Johnny B. Goode.

The decade ended with a terrible plane crash that killed Richie Valens, Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper (J.P.Richardson,

Jiles Perry)

In a 1972 record, Don McClean dubbed it The Day the Music Died.

We watched radio with pictures, called television, with fifteen minute shows, and the end of the televised day was ten thirty some nights and eleven some other nights.

The networks (all three of them) signed off with the waving American flag and the playing of the Star Spangled Banner. (I always wondered why)

Forgotten names like, Dave Garroway, Jerry Lester, Gary Moore, Barbara Hale, David Janseen, Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis.

Trivia alert: Elvis Presley made his television debut in 1956 on the show, “Stage Show,” hosted by bandleaders Tommy and Jimmy Dorsey. Not the Ed Sullivan Show!

Elvis made five more appearances on that show.

(You never know when this kind of information can come in handy!)

There were “Air Conditioned” signs with icicles painted on them on movie marquees.

We went to the local movie theaters and saw a Warner Pathe newsreel, a cartoon, a serials with names like, The Drums of Fu Manchu and the Mysterious Dr. Satan, where the good guys were left in a burning building and you had to come back next Saturday to see if they got out.( they always did.)

And then, the coming attractions and two movies (a double feature) for ten cents.

If you were older than thirteen, the cost was a quarter.

But I still don’t know why this era has such appeal to younger people.

They probably don’t know any of the names and places.

And why should they?

If they are twenty one, they were born in 1992!! (That can't be right)

And then last week I picked up a basketball for the first time in twenty years.

I was waiting for a friend at a recreation center and saw a ball lying under the basket.
Now I never was a "Bill Sharman" (another 50's reference) but I could throw them up there with the best of them. (called pumping in the 50's)
So I thought I would shoot a few baskets while waiting.

Remember when you were six or seven and you strained with two hands to get the ball to the hoop?

Well it was exactly like that.

I couldn’t clear the rim!

I thought, why would they have a raised the basket to fifteen feet?

The ball wasn’t official either.

It weighed three or four pounds heavier than a regular ball!

Suddenly, it all came back to me, why we loved the 50’s.

Click: http://oldfortyfives.com/DYRT.htm

Stay Tuned

Feel Free to Comment or Share my Blog

bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-12-19T14:56:00.020-05:00

Merry Christmas
There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.

Me, on the left with my brother Rich in the Evening Bulletin (1942?)

These are Few of my FavoriteThings

My granddaughter Amanda’s face and laugh….Judy Garland (Esther) singing “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” to Margaret O’Brien (Tootie) in Meet Me in St. Louis….Dylan Thomas’ “A Child’s Christmas in Wales”... The tree in Rockefeller Center…. The lyrics from the song, Christmas Memories, “the smiling faces of all the children, who now have children of their own.”…The sled outside Woodmill Ct....Zu-Zu’s petals….My annual Christmas party (I miss it)… Donna Marie’s escarole soup…the roaring fireplace on Alan Place, with its hidden compartment for wood… Shanks…Alaistar Sim, as Ebenezer Scrooge, the quintessential Scrooge and his classic line, “Can you forgive a pigheaded old fool, for having no eyes to see with, no ears to hear with, all these years?”…….Arlene’s ravioli… The seven fishes dinner at Florence and Andy's on Christmas Eve...real Christmas trees…The light show at Wanamaker’s (or whatever they call that store now)…. The Dickens’ Village in Strawbridge’s (or whatever they call that store now)….Santa Claus…The Christmas concert with the Philadelphia Boys Choir and The Philly Pops Orchestra Jennifer’s sweet potato thingy… Me Again

Gabby Giffords…Macy’s Thanksgiving parade from the bleachers in front of the Gulf and Western building in NYC… N.Y. Sun’s reporter, Francis Church’s classic, “Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus… Gnocchi Bolognese, for lunch, at an outdoor café in Sienna… Hiding that special Christmas gift in a really “good” place…Without sounding self-serving, I never cared about getting gifts. I was much more excited about going crazy trying to find that “special” gift and felt more excitement when that person was opening it.

I’ve been talking about one of my “new” favorite thing, for the last few months

Here it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OFMkCeP6ok

Best Christmas

Any one when Donna Marie and Rob still believed in Santa Claus.

4:15am on a cold, windy, Christmas morning, walking to church with my cassock & white collar over my shoulder, on the way to High Mass.
I sang in an all boys choir for six years.
(I can still sing the entire second soprano part to
“O Holy Night!”)
Walking alone, hearing the church bells, made me feel “holy,” every twelve year old, Catholic boy’s dream.

Or the one where on Christmas night there was a knock on the door.

When I opened it was snowing & my best friend’s six year old son was standing there.

The rest of the family was hiding in the bushes.

They had driven all the way to North Jersey to surprise us.

We all took a glass of wine and with our kids jumping and squealing in glee and with no coats on, we took a walk in that peaceful silence that accompanies the first covering of snow.

The year I gave, my teen age son, Rob a special gift and he was so happy, he cried.

It has snowed on Christmas eve and sometimes it has snowed on Christmas day but to be an official white Christmas it has to start snowing around 6p on Christmas eve and continue into Christmas morning (Trust me, I know these things.)

Last year, I mentioned a strip club, that I pass, that has this sign out front.

Thanksgiving Night Tradition!

NUDE Pumpkin Pie Wrestling

It’s good to know that some traditions are in safe keeping!

This year, never resting on their laurels (so to speak) they have added another line to the sign;

Whipped Cream Available!

And you thought all the good ideas were taken!

January sixth is the Feast of the Nativity or “little Christmas.

Legend has it that three wise men saw a new star on December 25^th & traveled twelve days to Bethlehem to find the star.

Hence, the twelve days of Christmas.

Christmas trivia:

The names of the three wise men were Gaspar, Melchior & Balthasar. (You never know when this can come in handy)

In 1952, the Catholic Church in Boston, temporarily banned the song, “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus!” on the grounds that it mixed Christmas & kissing!?

And while we are talking about the Catholic Church, did you know that January first is a holy day of obligation?

It was originally “The Feast of the Circumcision of Christ” but following the Second Vatican Counsel, Pope Paul V removed the Feast of the Circumcision of Christ from the liturgical calendar, and replaced it with the feast of the "Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God.” Do you suppose the reason was that too many eight year old school boys were raising their hands asking “Sister, Sister, what’s a circumcision?”
Just saying.

TRADITION

Tevye knew the importance of tradition and I was made keenly aware of tradition this holiday.

About thirty years ago, when I moved back to Philadelphia, I decided to start a family outing before the holidays.

Just a special day for the three of us: my daughter, my son and me.

We would go to Wanamaker’s department store in Philadelphia to watch the Christmas light show, the same show my mother took me to when I was a child.

Then off to Strawbridge’s department store for the animated figures that told the story of Dickens’s Christmas Carol.

Then lunch at some Christmassy restaurant and then a surprise.

Each year I would add something to the day.

A trip to Longwood gardens, a holiday movie or just walking down Chestnut Street to see the decorated windows.

I also bought Rob and Donna, a pin-on Santa Claus that they wore on that day.

A little while later my daughter-in-law Jen and my son-in-law Frank were added to the trip and both received their “Santas.”

This year the date was set and we met at my son’s house for the trip to Philadelphia.

And that’s when I received the best gift any Grandfather could ever expect.

My two and half year old Granddaughter, Amanda, met us at the door with a Santa Claus pin on her blouse!

And so to you from failing hands I throw the torch; be yours to hold it high…. 2012
HAPPY NEW YEAR

Stay Tuned

bobrusso@comcast.net

Feel free to comment or share my blog

2011-12-05T19:36:00.005-05:00

Happy Holidays ??

Someone walked into my life and made me realize that it would not work out with anyone else.

This time of year, many of us gather for Thanksgiving dinners, holiday parties and the start of a new year.

Last year (have I been doing this for over a year?) my thoughts about the holidays were serious, silly and strange (known as the three esses.)

Some of my feelings this year have changed, but many remain the same.

For some, it’s also a sad time of year.

Friends and family gone, or far away, remembrance of childhood holidays when life seemed so much easier, all can make for a depressing holiday.

But I’m a fortunate man.

When I think of past holidays, they are mostly all warm memories.

And as you get older you realize that your life is made up of the great memories from holidays, birthdays and vacations.

Sure, you can be sad this time of year but only if you have NO memories.

I am grateful for the good times of the past, rather than obsessing why they aren’t the same today.

And it’s not easy.

Memories of kissing that special someone until your lips hurt (do people still hang mistletoe?)

It’s saving the last ornament on the Christmas tree for someone who’s not with you. (I’ve done this for over thirty years)

It’s the day that Mom and Dad took you to the Gimbel’s Thanksgiving Day parade and you handed your letter to Santa and to his elves on the route.

It’s the day that Santa’s parade ended at Gimbel Brothers Dept. store at Eighth & Market Sts. and he climbed a fireman’s ladder to the Eighth Floor (Toyland.) That marked the official start of the holiday season. (before the parade on Thanksgiving day there was not a Santa to be seen, anywhere!

(I know, we were weird, back in the day)

Then years later, it was taking my children to the Macy’s Day Parade in New York and watching the enormous floats from the bleachers in front of the Gulf and Western Building.

I think that is why Thanksgiving is misunderstood.

It’s not a day of excessive food.

Well, it is, but it’s much more than that.

It’s not the day for arguments and meanness.

I had Thanksgiving dinner for family and friends at my home for over twenty years.

And it was the best of times and memories.

It’s the day, when twelve people waiting for dinner for some four hours, realized that the oven wasn’t turned on.

It’s the day that the kids fed the dog the green bean casserole.

Or it’s remembering when the Detroit Lions and the Green Bay Packers were the only football game on TV. (It was always snowing)

Or it was the Turkey Trot with Anne Marie, the dance at South Catholic on Thanksgiving night after the South Catholic- Southern football game that morning. (South always won)

And of course it was the food.

Two years ago I was diagnosed with diabetes.

Telling an Italian two weeks before Thanksgiving that he has diabetes is truly cruel and unusual punishment.

I give thanks for a family who has helped me to stay healthy this year.

To the care givers who have dragged me kicking and screaming into a healthier outlook.

And I am most thankful for my daughter, Donna Marie and her husband Frank.

They are always there for me.

Stay Tuned
Feel free to share my blog or comment

bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-11-16T21:06:00.054-05:00

Conspiracy of Silence

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

I knew when I sat down to write about Penn State that there already have been pages and pages written on the tragedy.

But there are things that haven’t been said that really bother me.

While the newspapers reporters and television commentators keep trying to figure out “who knew what and when did they know it,” You just have to be “street” smart and use a little common sense, and you’ll know the answer.

In a small community over eleven years?

HUNDREDS KNEW!!

In every scenario involving things illicit or illegal, people know!

This from the Harrisburg Patriot-News:

Spanning 13 years, two common threads run through the entire grand jury presentment. At each stage, boys voiced concern or pain or alarm at the conduct of Jerry Sandusky — or adults witnessed behavior they found troubling or alarming.
And at each stage, other adults dismissed, minimized or failed to act upon those concerns

So these people mentioned what they knew or saw to their friends and family and those people told their friends and family, and the numbers grew exponentially.

When I was a teenager and we heard about Joe Schmo being arrested for drugs, stealing, etc.

People not from the neighborhood would say, “I’m shocked.”

But we (corner guys) weren't.
We all knew.

Maybe not the exact details but that he was in trouble didn’t come as a surprise to any of us.

In the Sandusky indictment there were repeated times that he was seen in completely inappropriate situations and nothing was said or done.

These and many others are the ones who when Sandusky was arrested said, “I heard a long time ago that there was something wrong with him.”

I guarantee you that some of the kids at Second Mile heard things like, “Look out for him or don’t let him get you alone.”

In the recent Catholic Church scandal, a priest from my parish used to prey on young boys who were away at camp.

The older kids (12 and 13) would tell the younger kids to look out for “The Midnight Raider.”

They knew.

They might not have known to what extent.

But they knew.

I know you can’t arrest everyone who is “different,” but alarms should go off when people, especially grown men, are “different” with children.

He had a basement apartment in his house where boys slept overnight.

His wife never thought it was odd that he visited his “guests” EVERY night?

He called a ten-year old victim SIXTY-ONE times on his home phone.

No one in this ten-year olds’ family wondered who was calling their son sixty-one times?

These, and a multitude of situations like this, fill the pages of the indictment.

How a six foot two, two hundred and twenty pound, former Penn State football player, could have witnessed an attack and did nothing is unconscionable.

He knew Sandusky!

Sandusky SAW him.

At very lease, take off your jacket and offer it to the child and lead him out of that room.

Of course a forearm shiver to Sandusky’s jaw would have been nice.

But hey, that’s just me.

Click on “Sandusky Indictment,” but I warn you it’s not for the squeamish or the weak of heart.

http://www.attorneygeneral.gov/uploadedFiles/Press/Sandusky-Grand-Jury-Presentment.pdf

For more strangeness, “Google,” Ray and Roy Gricar!

I wonder about something else.

Is this silence a “guy thing?”

Would this have gone on this long, if the Athletic Director or the School President, of Penn State, were women?

As in the Catholic Church scandals, the enablers were all men.

Seemingly, this was the case at Penn State.

Are men more “loyal” to institutions even when these institutions harbor degenerates?

It seems that the answer is yes, but why?

Is it an “Old Boys Network” view that the perpetrators are “one of us?”

Is the thought process that a child is expendable and that an institution or a church needs to be protected?

Who can honestly say that if they witnessed these acts, that they would not report them, even if the perpetrator was a priest, a coach, or even their own father or brother.

If you answered you would not, God help us all.

And yet another thing I wonder is did these atrocities happen in the past and that we only hear more about them now because of the information culture?

I know this; my Grandparents and my parents’ generations were highly secretive.

So were people in “responsible” positions.

Newsmen, Sports reporters, Government agencies (FBI) and all dispensers of information: Newspapers, Magazines, Hollywood studios, et al.

They all projected a “perfect” climate no matter the truth.

FDR was in a wheelchair most of his adult life but there was rarely a picture taken of him in it.

Mickey Mantle was a functioning alcoholic and most sportswriters knew it, but never reported it.

Rock Hudson was gay but the movie studios arranged a “marriage’ so that the public would not get suspicious.

Maybe the most powerful man in America’s protection agency, J. Edgar Hoover, for over fifty years, had myriad secret files on ordinary American citizens and extensive files on Presidents, politicians and celebrities.

Not to mention his sordid and secretive private life.

So could have scandals the magnitude of Penn States’ been kept from the public, “for our own good?”

Was that possible?

If my “street smarts” are still working then I’m afraid that this whole tragedy could get much worse.

I don’t think Paterno will live through next year.

It wouldn’t be surprising if Sandusky, who is free on bail, would try to commit suicide.

And from all I’ve read, pedophiles do not start their obsession when they’re in their fifties.

Sandusky has six children.

All adopted.

Stay Tuned

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bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-11-05T11:56:00.063-04:00

WE’RE MAD AS HELL

All progress has resulted from people who took unpopular positions.

Adlai Stevenson

I was wondering if I am the only one who does not understand what the hell is going on in Wall Street?

So I figured I’d ask around.

I wanted to know what the protestors’ end game is.

A very good and wise friend told me there is no end game.

That unlike protests that demand a direct and viable result this protest was based on the frustration of ordinary people who seem unable to have their voices heard.

Trying all the “normal” avenues of dissent, with absolutely no results, protest is the only option left.

In other words, “They’re Mad as Hell and They’re Not Going To Take it Anymore.”

There is a huge opposition to the messenger, if not the message.

That got me to thinking.

Hasn’t this always been the way?

Does this look familiar?

The 1960’s saw sit-ins and school faculty offices were occupied by students and many classes were held hostage by protestors.

There were marches on Washington protesting the war in Vietnam, with chants of “Hell No, We Won’t Go!”

“Hey, Hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?"

Did the protestors really think that their endgame would be the end of the war? Maybe.

But they were “Mad as Hell.”

I think all protests are seen through different prisms.

In 1967 I was thirty-years old.

I was too old to be part of the protests but not old enough to be their parents.

I agreed with some of the messages but had a hard time accepting the messengers.

I think that is the same feeling, today.

Robert Zimmerman told us back then that “The Times They Are a-Changin’.

But because he looked like a street urchin and his voice sounded like fingernails scraping on a chalk board, not everyone listened.

And there-in lies the problems of all protests; it depends on your status in society.
If you are in your villa on Lake Como, sipping Appletinis, the protestors are the shaggy-haired unwashed.
If you are the father of three and can’t find a job then the protestors are comrades in arms.
But hasn’t it always been this way?
Weren’t the people who dumped the tea in the Boston harbor just saying, “We’re Mad as Hell?
Wasn’t Carrie Nation “Mad as Hell?”
Or the Suffragettes march on the White House?
And although I wasn’t there for any of these events, I am sure there was vocal and angry opposition.
Did these protestors know what their end game was? How about the Vietnam protestors?
How in the world could they have believed that sleeping in the Dean’s office overnight and holding a University hostage, would end the war in Vietnam?
History has the advantage of waiting for the outcome before they assign the heroes.
I think that when the usual avenues do not bring results than being “Mad as Hell” is the only recourse.
The only other necessity for a protest to succeed is commitment.
When a housewife from Cleveland joined the freedom riders in Selma, Alabama, she had no way of knowing that she would pay with her life for her commitment.
The protesting students at Kent State had no way of knowing that the Ohio National Guard would fire sixty seven rounds in thirteen seconds, wounding nine students and killing four because of their commitment.

There was a significant national response to the shootings: hundreds of universities, colleges, and high schools closed throughout the United States due to a student strike of four million students, and the event further affected the public opinion, at an already socially contentious time, over the role of the United States in the Vietnam War. And although none of these acts alone changed the course of history, I believe it raised awareness that eventually changed the course of history.
And maybe these present day protests will bring change for all not just the few.
But one thing is evident.
The protestors are “Mad as Hell!”
This is the speech by actor Peter Finch in the role as Harold Beale in the motion picture “Network.”
Listen to Paddy Chayefsky’s brilliant words, written in1976, thirty-five years ago. (click on)

Mad As Hell

In the nineteen-sixties, apartheid was driven out of America. Legal segregation--Jim Crow ended. We didn't end racism, but we ended legal segregation. We ended the idea that you can send a million soldiers ten thousand miles away to fight in a war that people do not support. We ended the idea that women are second-class citizens. Now, it doesn't matter who sits in the Oval Office. But the big battles that were won in that period of civil war and strife you cannot reverse. We were young, we were reckless, arrogant, silly, headstrong and scared to death... and we were right! I regret nothing!     Abbie Hoffman

Ps. On Tuesday, November 1st, Bank of America announced that they were, in reaction to public pressure, ditching their plan to charge five dollars for the privilege of using their Debit card.

On the previous Friday both Wells Fargo and Chase scraped the identical Debit card fee.
Coincidence??

STAY TUNED

Feel Free To Comment or Share My Blog

bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-10-19T18:08:00.006-04:00

THINKING OUT LOUD

A stream of consciousness is a narrative mode that seeks to portray an individual's point of view by giving the written equivalent of the character's thought processes.

Many times while driving along, I suddenly think of the movie, “From Here to Eternity,” other times I think of the record promoter in Seattle, Washington who I haven’t seen in thirty years and whose name I could never remember.

Obviously, the two have nothing in common and I often try to fathom the correlation.

Incoherency is one guess. (Fill in your own joke)

Here is an attempt to share this brilliance, in no particular order.

In writing this blog I get compliments from my friend, Stephen, who is a doctor and from my friend, Phil, who is a lawyer.

So, I’m going to ask the manager of the Cleveland baseball team or the coach of the Wash. football team to read my blog.

That way my blog will have been read by a Doctor, a Lawyer and an Indian Chief!

(O.K, It gets better, how could it not!?)

There is something called chocolate covered bacon.

A store in Times Square sells pop tart sushi!

My two year old granddaughter, Amanda, calls her parents, “Guys.”

On a recent car trip she was sitting in the back, in her car seat, and her mother and father were talking, with the radio on, in the front seat.
From the back of the car came, “Hey guys, can you stop talking?” I can’t hear Britney Spears!”

Sometimes I tease Mandi by grabbing a toy and play tug-of-war with her.
Right in the middle of, “It’s mine, No, it’s mine,” she stops and says, “Pop-Pop, you’re not being very nice.”
Nothing like being reprimanded by a two year old.

Slogan of the Housewives of ….

If you have had cosmetic surgery, look good and dress well, you don’t need a goal in life.

Is the word query, politically incorrect?

“Snookie,” the contradiction to natural selection, upon arriving in Italy, said, “Wow, there’s a whole other world out here!”

When asked to describe “class,” she opined, “class is if you don’t show your tits or ass!”

Ah, from the mouths of babes.

Was (Grand Master) Edgar Allan Poe on to modern music when he wrote, “Rap, Rap, Rappin', at my chamber door?”

When I complain to my doctor about a new ailment, he says, “Well Bob at your age, it’s to be expected.”

No, the only thing I expected at this age was wealth and power.

Eighty-seven year old Doris Day, released a NEW album, “My Heart,” with new and old material.

Listen to “Disney Girls.”

And of course, the eighty-five year old, Tony Bennett’s new album, is “Duets II."

Listen to “Body and Soul.”

Phillies fans were on the road to Nirvana,

Now they're on the road to Kurt Cobain.

In the early 50’s actress Ingrid Bergman was living with Italian director Roberto Rossellini although each was married to someone else.

The Catholic Church immediately banned all her movies.

Today, Angelina Jolie could win an Oscar playing Mother Teresa, if she had a great make-up artist.

I know this is my problem, a generational thing, but Kim Kardashian wore a WHITE gown! I guess one color fits all.

Virginity is so "yesterday!"

Returning from lunch at the radio station, I found our receptionist in tears. I asked her what was wrong and she said that she just got off the phone with a very rude listener.She said that he was angry and abusive.

I try to calm her and then she said, “the General Manager told me that I could hang up on anyone who was being profound.

I told her that if that ever happened, please transfer the call to my office, immediately!

Many moons ago I took my seven year old daughter to a fancy Italian restaurant in Wildwood N.J.

Just a father and daughter date.

After problems unfolding the linen napkins (me, not her) we had a great meal, although confusing the three forks and two spoons. (me, not her)

After a gooey, chocolaty, dessert thingy, we headed to the boardwalk.

As we approached the first amusement pier, Donna asked me if she could take a ride on the tilt-a-whirl.

I tried to explain to her that it was too soon after dinner and that she could do it, but later.

She turned teary, big brown eyes toward me, and with a quivering lower lip said, “Pleeease?”

She had no way of knowing that after that plea I would have BOUGHT her the tilt-a-whirl.

Two minutes into the four minute ride, Donna shared her fancy Italian dinner with everyone within twenty yards.

Cleaned up and sobbing she said, “Daddy, sometimes you just have to learn things the hard way.”

Now that’s profound.

Some Quotes I Love:

I wonder if illiterate people get the full effect of alphabet soup.” J. Sienfeld

“Sometimes I lie awake at night, and ask, 'Where have I gone wrong?' Then a voice says to me, 'This is going to take more than one night.' Charles Shulz

The surest sign that intelligent life exists elsewhere in the universe is that it has never tried to contact us. ~Bill Watterson

A friend recently sent me a list of “observations” from Steven Wright.

Although he’s known as a comedian his comedy is not traditional.

Here are some from that list:

Borrow money from pessimists -- they don't expect it back.

I plan on living forever, So far, So good.

I woke up one morning, and all of my stuff had been stolen and replaced by exact duplicates.

And here are two of my favorites of Wright that weren’t on that list:

I went to a restaurant that serves, "breakfast at any time"so I ordered French toast during the Renaissance.

Customer pulls up to a convenience store at midnight only to find the manager turning off the lights and locking the door.

Customer: “Your sign says, “Open twenty-four hours!”

Manager: “Sure, but not in a row!”

Stay Tuned

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bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-10-07T16:28:00.001-04:00

Pottersville?

Sometimes the road not taken is not taken for a reason.

As I get older I find myself amazed about different things that have happened in my life.

Like many people, I didn’t realize that decisions I made at twenty or thirty would have such an impact on the rest of my life.

We can all relate to “do-overs” or second chances.

But the premise of “The road not taken,” is one that I find most intriguing.

That was the genius of the movie, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

It wasn’t the chance to re-live your life; it was the premise of what life would look like if you had never lived.

Like George Bailey, there are things that would not have happened if “I wasn’t there.”

For example: I met my first wife in a social club in South Philadelphia.

She didn’t live in South Philadelphia but heard about the club from friends at work. The club was open two nights a week and I didn’t go there every night it was open.

But the night she decided to come to the club for the first time, was a night I decided to be at the club.

But what if “I wasn’t there?”

A seemingly simple choice like that would have altered my entire life.

In an earlier post I spoke of a general job application I sent to more than ten radio stations in Philadelphia, in the late sixties.

Unexpectedly, WIP offered me a job.

But what if KYW or WCAU would have offered me a job?

Or no one offered me a job?

Like George Bailey, “I wouldn’t have been there” to meet the woman with whom I had an eleven year relationship.

I wouldn’t have met the man who had the faith in me to offer me the chance to come to New York to program music at a radio station in the number one market in the country!

And at other times, things happened that didn’t seem to have anything to do with my life but impacted it in unexpected ways.

In 1973, Jim Croce was killed in a tragic airplane crash in Louisiana.

I had known Jim briefly and had become friends with his producers, Terry and Tommy and their partner, Phil.

About three months after Jimmy’s death the radio
station for which I was working changed formats and I was looking for work.
One of the great “call letters” in radio, KDKA in Pittsburgh, called me about a position there.

But Terry and Tommy, after Jimmy’s death, decided to start a record company of their own and asked me to join them, overseeing their publishing companies, until they could get the Record Company started.

It is safe to say if Jimmy lived, Terry and Tommy would have gone on producing his records and had no reason to start a record company or to hire me.

So where would life have led me in Pittsburgh?

I spoke about an eleven year relationship.
What if I had married in the seventies and stayed in New York?

I probably would not have returned to Philadelphia and had the chance to gain custody of my children.

If that happened (or didn’t happen) I would not have married Maryann, and if I had not married her, maybe her son would have not committed suicide.

And if all of these things did not happen exactly as they did,” I am not there” in South Jersey in 1991, I do not buy a Dairy Queen Franchise, my son does not come to work with me and Jennifer (now his wife) does not come to work there.

And if you have read any of my previous posts (Buy a Dairy Queen, Get a Granddaughter) you know that the precious Amanda would not be here.

All because “I wouldn’t have been there.”

I think we all romanticized the “road not taken” to be this perfect life with no illness and no setbacks.

But it wouldn’t be.

The other road is not Utopia.

We think that that road is unknown, therefore, magical.

But it is known!

I know what wouldn’t be there!

I would not be the father of Donna Marie and Rob.

(That is impossible for me to imagine.)

It would not have a career in Radio and the Record business.

It would not have New York and Kathy and all the amazing people I met in radio and the record industry.
These are just some of the things that I know were not on "the other road."Would I have had other children or stronger love or a better career?
Maybe, but the road also could have ended at nineteen!

So if you live into your seventies, there are plenty of things of which to look back and wonder.

And like George Bailey, just imagine what might have happened in your life if “you weren’t there.”

I guess that great philosopher of the Twenty First Century, Yogi Berra, said it best, when he said, “When you get to the fork in the road, take it!”

Stay Tuned

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bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-09-28T13:19:00.002-04:00

POTPOURRI

Bet you didn’t know that I could speak a foreign language?

And you thought I was just another pretty face!

We all have our idiosyncrasies and peccadilloes.
Coincidence is the only answer for certain things that happen in our lives, that seemingly have no other explanation.
I would like to share a few of these experiences.

First, something crazy that’s completely of my doing.

I don’t know why or what it means but here it is.

If you have ever been in a Casino or a Restaurant in Atlantic City you have probably seen those iconic photos of The Atlantic City Boardwalk usually in front of the famous Steel Pier.

Men in white suits and straw hats accompanied by women in flowing dresses and high heels.

Truly, a lost generation of elegance.

This is where my strangeness appears.

There is one photo that has been enlarged and covers half a wall.

It was taken directly in front of Steel Pier.

I’ve seen it at several different locations.

Hundreds of people entering Steel Pier with marquees that read, “One Night Only, “LIVE” The Charley Spivak Orchestra and on the silver screen, “White Cargo” and “Hell Bound.”

About ten years ago while staring at the picture I noticed over to my right; away from the crowded entrance was a young couple. He was in a three piece suit and tie and she wore a flowing dress and a cloche hat.

I was immediately drawn to her.

With that cloche hat I could only see her face in profile.

But from that minute, through the next ten years, I stop whenever I see that photo and stare at her.

I wonder who she is. (or was)

I wonder if that was her first time to Steel Pier.

I wonder if this was her only time to Steel Pier.

She might have been from Portland, Oregon and never returned to Atlantic City.

Or she may have been from Philadelphia and came frequently to Atlantic City.

I am drawn to her, I guess, because she’s an immutable object.

She’s a constant in a chaotic world.

No matter how much time passes till I see her again, she’s always there, same pose, same dress, same hat.

There’s something comforting in that.

Whenever I see her, I have a new set of questions.

The picture is from 1931 or ‘32 because that was the year the movies “White Cargo” & “Hell Bound” were released.

She is at least twenty in the picture.

It’s highly unlikely she is still alive.

If she lived locally, did she ever see this picture?

Does her family take her grandchildren to see
“grandma?

Or am I the only one in the world who wonders about her?

That would be cool!

These next two “coincidences” are only a couple of examples of things I’ve experienced that have no real explanation.
Ten years ago, I was the Program Director of a Radio station near Atlantic City. As is the norm with radio stations, the station was sold and the new owners intended to change the format to all Spanish music.

They asked me if I spoke Spanish.

Trying to impress them I said, “Oui, Oui.”

Funny, they never called me back.

So I was out of work, and the only real experience I had for the previous ten years was I could Program your radio station or make you a Dairy Queen Ultimate Burger.

And at my age, I began rehearsing, “Would you like fries with that?”

About four months later a sales person from the radio station had landed a job at Comcast, selling TV commercials.

She called to tell me they were hiring sales people and she was certain I could do the job.

I had been urged most of my working career to try sales.

And for whatever reason I resisted. But as the saying goes, “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

So Linda scheduled an interview for me.

I needed a job but I knew there was no sense in trying to “fake” my resume.

I had never sold and that was exactly what I was going to tell them.

I was ushered into the Sales Manager’s office.

She was a thirty-something woman who looked twenty and I thought that I had a slim chance of her hiring a “grandpa.”

After some “small” talk she looked directly at me and said, “you don’t remember me do you?"

In my mind my defense mechanism automatically kicked in.

“It wasn’t me.” “I never saw you before in my life.”

But I calmly said, “No, I’m sorry.”

She told me, in 1980 she was a college student, and an intern at radio station WIP, where I was the Assistant Program Director/Music Director.

She went on to tell me that she was an intern assigned to the Accounting Department and that she would often come back to the music library and talk to me about music.

She went on to tell me that she remembered me because I never treated her like an intern and anytime I had music she liked I would give her that album.

She told me that she never forgot that.
She told me she also thought I should have been in sales.
And with that she said was going to take a chance and offer me the job.

What were the odds that I would walk into her office twenty years after meeting her, for a job interview, I didn’t want?

She, and all those other people, knew me better than I knew myself.

I returned her belief in me and was the number one Comcast sales person for that year.

I’ve saved the weirdest one for last.
A journey into a wondrous land of imagination.

Next stop, the Twilight Zone!

My wife, Maryann, died in 1995.

About four years later, my daughter, my son-in-law and my brother went to Clearwater Florida for Phillies spring training.

As we deplaned, my son-in-law and my brother headed for the baggage, and my daughter, Donna and I headed for the car rental.

In Clearwater, the car rental agencies are all in one building.

We found the Budget counter.

After about a twenty minute wait we finally reached the counter and I handed the agent my driver’s license. After taking my information and exchanging small talk, she asked me if I wanted insurance and then she said, “Will you be the only driver?”

When I said yes, she then said, “So Maryann won’t be driving the car?”

Thinking I mistook what I heard, I said, “Pardon me?”

“Well for insurance purposes I just wanted to be sure that your wife Maryann won’t be driving the car and that you will be the only driver.”

I was so stunned that I had no reply. (for those of you who know me, you know how rare that is.)
I turned to my daughter and she was as stunned as I was.

I stammered that I was the only driver and where did she get the name Maryann?

She looked down at her reservation list and then said, “Oh, I’m so sorry Mr. Russo but on my list right below your name is a reservation for Maryann Russo from New York.”

“I mistakenly thought you were together!”

So Maryann Russo came to Clearwater Fla. on the same day that I came to Clearwater.

Not Carol Russo not Linda Russo, but Maryann Russo!

And of the twenty or so rent-a-car companies, she chose

Budget, not Hertz or Avis et al!

And our names were alone on our applications!

Not John & Maryann Russo not Bob and Carol Russo!

What are the odds?

I asked the agent what time was she scheduled to pick up her car; the agent told me she couldn’t give me that information.

My daughter pulled me by the arm muttering something about “being a stalker.”

STAY TUNED

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bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-09-15T11:50:00.003-04:00

MEATBALLS
My mother's menu consisted of two choices: “Take it or Leave it."

Things were sure different “back-in-the-day,” in the “dark ages,” before electricity and cars and supermarkets…way back in the 50’s.
There were no giant super stores like, “Shoprite or Super Fresh, etc.”

There were individual stores for everything you needed.

There was a shoemaker (where you had new heels and soles put on your shoes rather then buying a new pair.)

There was a bakery, a drug store, a grocery store, a pizzeria (pick-up or eat-in, no delivery) and a butcher shop.

And they were all within walking distance of my home.

From time to time my mother asked my brother and me to run errands to any one of these stores.

But there was one store that was the “black hole” of stores, the Bermuda Triangle, where young boys running errands were never heard from again.

That place was John’s butcher shop on a Saturday morning.

This Saturday morning, I was all set to play a double header against our arch rivals, the Wolves.

Just as I was turning the knob of the front door and to freedom, I heard the siren’s call disguised as my mother’s voice. “Robert, before you leave will you run an errand for me?”

Please not the butcher shop I thought, knowing all too well where I was going on that particular Saturday morning.

“Go to John’s and get a pound of mixed ground meat.”

“Here’s a dollar and don’t forget to bring me the change.”

In desperation I tried, “Mom can’t we have spam tonight? How about fish croquettes? We don’t need meat.”

My mother, bless her soul, always answered my absurd ranting, all in the same manner. “Oh, Robert don’t be so silly. The faster you go, the faster you can go play.”

I knew this was a futile argument so I jumped the five front steps and sped to John’s, straight arming imaginary tacklers along the way, under the delusion that if I ran really fast the store would be empty.

If only.

The first clue that Saturday was a bad time to go John’s was that there were chairs in front of the meat counter.
For ambience there was sawdust on the floor (that may have been the last time I saw sawdust) and carcusses of beef and pork hanging on hooks.The chairs were there so the seven or eight women waiting for their orders could get comfortable.
I swear those women camped out at John’s on a Friday night just to be sure to get a seat. I wanted to shout,
“I only want a pound of mixed ground
meat!”
But I was taught to respect my elders.
And these women were ancient.

They all were at least in their mid-forties.

Up first, Millie, unfurled a list as long as a five year old’s list to Santa Claus.

(Quick aside: No meat was pre-prepared. Everything was cut to order. For example if you wanted, oh, let’s say a pound of mixed ground meat, John would cut a piece of beef, a piece of pork and a piece of veal, place them in the grinder and viola a scant ten minutes later you had a pound of mixed ground meat.)

From time to time John would cut a little too much meat and that left about a half a pound of ground meat.

If he tried to use that in Millie’s order, Millie would scrunch up her face and say, “No, John I want it fresh.”

The only way that Millie could get it fresher, was to steer her to a ranch and hand her a lasso.

I had noticed that some of the women’s lists seemed amazingly short and I foolishly thought there was a chance to get out of there before sunset.

Maybe I could play the second game if there were lights on the field.

We were about half way through Millie’s (the baseball hater) list.

As if Millie could feel my optimism she asked John if he had seen Dolly’s WEDDING pictures. The hairs on the back of my neck began to bristle.

Wouldn’t a normal butcher say something like, “Maybe some other time Millie, I have Bobby waiting here and
he only wants a pound of mixed ground meat!”
But what he said, as he began wiping his hands on his apron, was, “little Dolly?” I can’t believe she is old enough to be a bride.” Let’s see those pictures.”

I was doomed to sit the bench for the rest of my life.

What person takes 87 wedding pictures to a butcher shop? What person offers play-by-play of every picture?

"This is the bridal party. There was eighteen in the party." "Aren't the orange dresses different?"
“This is Mario; you remember he’s my sister Connie’s youngest son. Isn’t he handsome?”
I wondered why Millie didn’t ask me what I thought of the Halloween dresses and Mario’s looks.

And that opened the door to the next chapter of The Desperate Housewives.
Ro-Ro told us about her uncle Lou who passed away three months ago (In a half whisper she said,“Alcohol”)

(Gossip was always shared in a stage whisper. When it was really “juicy” it was either said in a lower whisper or it was said in Italian.)

Carmella had a sister who was getting a divorce. (in the 50’s that was a double whisper.)

And Angie from Bancroft Street’s unmarried daughter was pregnant!

This sentence was a low whisper and in Italian.
As the “Days of Your Life” dragged on, my only hope was a phone call from the governor.

Rita finished her “three steaks, not too thick, can I see the meat before you cut it” order.

And I was next!

Just as I reached the counter the door flew open and
Annemarie from up the street burst in.

“John, John, she panted, “I have the baby outside and I have to get back, I need just one thing.”

John smiled and said, “I’m sure this nice young man won’t mind.”

But, But…

John went on, “You know who this boy is Annemarie? He’s Margaret’s son from Seventeenth Street.

Annemarie didn’t care if I was Tab Hunter, she just knew I was the dopey kid who let her order ahead of me.

“What can I get you, Annemarie?,” John asked.

“Just a pound of mixed ground meat, not to much pork, you know how I like it.”

I finally got to the counter and asked for my pound of mixed ground meat.
John was going to use some of the ground meat left over from Annemarie's order.
I scrunched up my face and said, "No, John I want it fresh!"
When I finally left the store, I saw Richie, our third baseman. “Rich, Rich how did we do?”
“We won both games. We killed them. Where were you?”
In a stage whisper, I said, “Richie, did you know that Millie’s daughter, Dolly, got married? Reception at Palumbo’s. Was a nice time. About 200 people.”

STAY TUNED

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bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-09-02T13:57:00.005-04:00

THE LOSS OF INNOCENCE

Once you start asking questions, innocence is gone.

I was ten years old in the summer of 1947.

It was the summer that everything changed.

Up until then, summers were pretty much the same old, same old.

Baseball, swimming at the bath house on alternate days, (boys on one day, girls on the other)

It was movies for ten cents. We paid one admission & then opened the side door to let in the gang.

Pretend sword fights on the steps of St. Monica’s Church. (every movie that had a sword fight had a flight of steps where the good guy & bad guy dueled.)

Opening the fire plug (hydrant) to cool off & throwing girls under so we could see through their wet blouses.

There were days we needed to refurbish our "toys" so two guys held my ankles as I was lowered into a sewer to retrieve half-balls, pimple balls & anything else I found that I thought might be useful.

And those halcyon days were shared with my buddies, my boys, my guys.

We chipped in for one Pepsi & shared it with five.

We were silly & serious & just discovering some of the outside world.

But that summer something happened that changed the way I thought & felt about “my guys.”

There were angry words that I never heard before.

Nigger Lover.

And this was all happening because I liked the new
black first baseman of the Brooklyn Dodgers, Jackie
Robinson.

For the first time in my very young life I heard hate filled words

I never had anyone curse at me. And although technically they weren’t actually cursing, it hurt & stunned me.

As a Phillies & A’s fan (back in the day of two teams in Philly) it was blasphemy to like a player from any other team & it was double blasphemy to like any one from any of the three New York teams.

So I had hit the Trifecta!

But this was different. After hearing about the things he could do on the field, I begged my father to take me to Shibe Park to see him. And he did.

The Brooklyn Dodgers were making history & to tell you the truth I never realized it. I knew Robinson was the “first” but in the insulated “bubble” world I lived in, I never noticed there were no black players in the majors.

I know that may hard to believe.

But in my world you were white, Catholic, & either Italian or Irish.

At ten I was in the sixth grade & through my eight years of elementary Catholic school, I never saw anyone of color, not classmates, not neighbors, not even a nun or a priest.

I literally grew up in a snow storm.

But I never thought about black players not playing the game I loved.

I never thought about it & then slowly I began to understand why they weren’t playing professional baseball or any other professional sports.

They weren’t allowed.

And that’s the word that bothered me the most then & still bothers me today.

Allowed!

How could you not be allowed to play baseball?

So did that make me a liberal?

A nigger lover?

I WAS TEN!

I never really “got it” & it would be a few years before I found my “voice” & had the courage to state my convictions.Don’t get me wrong, I was no boy scout.

Sure, I stood on the corner with the older guys & joined them in harassing any black teenagers who had the audacity to walk through our neighborhood.

The older guys would threaten them with all kinds of violence & I was chipping in with, “yeah, that’s right & you had better watch your step & keep on walking.”

Strong stuff like that, of course I made sure I was standing behind the older guys & had already had figured out an escape route if any thing serious

happened.

I really don’t know why I didn’t feel like everyone else.

I suspected my parents weren’t without their prejudices but my parents never used a prejudiced word in our home.

That is why I wondered why my friends & almost everyone I knew, were so vehement.

Why & where did they get so angry?

I knew that no one I knew ever knew or met a black person.

To a ten year old it just seemed all of this just wasn’t fair!

I mostly said nothing because:

A.-I was too young

B.-I couldn’t fight.

I wasn't going to get a black eye (pun intended) just to prove a point.

An example of how white my surroundings were, the Phillies were the last team in the National League to have a black player.

Ironically, his name was John Kennedy & he was signed in 1957, ten years after integration.

He played five games & then was released.

But I was angry & I think this became the beginning of my wise-ass personality.

As I got older I realized this was one argument I never could win so I “fought” it with words.

Every time the corner was “buzzing” with hatred, I was sure to mention that Roy Campenella, the black catcher who joined the Dodgers in 1948, had a father who was Sicilian & his mother was black.

(I almost got smacked around for that one)

I was sure to mention that “Campy” grew up in Philly & went to Simon Gratz High School & yet the Phillies somehow missed him.

Years later, Reggie Jackson went to Cheltenham High School, outside of Philadelphia & yet the Phillies somehow missed him, too.

Today, I wonder if anythong has changed back in the old neighborhood.

But that summer in 1947 was unforgettable to me because I was shown the “outside” world & I didn’t like it.

I still don’t!

But I have learned some things along the way.

About fifteen years later I saw the Broadway show, South Pacific & Oscar Hammerstein’s lyrics put into words what I had already learned.

You’ve got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You’ve got to be taught
From year to year,
It’s got to be drummed
In your dear little ear

You’ve got to be carefully taught.

You’ve got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made

And people whose skin is a different shade

you’ve got to be carefully taught.

You’ve got to be taught before it’s too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You’ve got to be carefully taught!

Racism is “not born in you! It happens after you’re born...

STAY TUNED

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bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-08-20T18:58:00.001-04:00

FIRST DO NO HARM

For every mountain there’s a miracle

What was the happiest day of your life?
I know we all could possibly name a few but what about just one?
I can name the birth of my children but that would be two.
But if I had to go with one, I think that this would be the one.
Thirty five years ago, I was at a pool party in North Jersey.
I worked for Lifesong Records & I was there with my children Donna Marie & Rob.
We were at the home of one of the owners of Lifesong, Phil K.
Rob was poolside wearing a tank top & my girlfriend Kathy noticed a lump on Rob's back.
It was on the left shoulder blade about half way down, the size of a half dollar.
At that same pool party was Dr. Stephen Geller.
Dr. Geller was a close friend of Phil & someone I had met but really didn’t know.
Dr. Geller was a professor of Pathology at Mt. Sinai Hospital in N.Y.
I asked him to take a look at it. Rob was seven.
Dr. Geller told me to be sure to have it looked at immediately.
The next five weeks were the worst weeks of my life.
I took Rob to two doctors in New York & one in South Jersey, where Rob lived.
All recommended that he have it removed.
And they all agreed that they couldn't tell me anything without a biopsy.
My ex-wife insisted on having him operated on in S. Jersey.
She felt he should stay close to home.
I wanted to take him to N.Y.
I had a bad feeling about the whole thing.
I knew if it was something serious that I wanted him operated on in Sloan-Kettering in N.Y.
I turned to Dr. Geller for guidance & we spoke many times by phone in those weeks & he kept re-assuring me that the operation was pretty routine but the biopsy was what was important.
Rob was operated on in Washington Township in South Jersey.
Later that day, I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria when a very young doctor, approached me & with shaking hands told me that the results of the biopsy was positive & that it was malignant & was metastatic fibro sarcoma.
Naturally, other than the word malignant, I had no idea what that meant but I knew it wasn’t good.
Later that same day, in a daze, I had subsequent meetings with the surgeons & I barely heard the words radiation, chemotherapy & possible amputation.
I held on to the arm of my chair as I felt that I was about to pass out.
I went home & knew I couldn’t panic. I had to find a way out of this for Rob.
I could not accept this diagnosis.
I just woudn't.
I began making phone calls to everyone & anyone I knew.
I was surprised when I realized just how many contacts I had made in the radio & record business.
One of the radio advertisers knew a surgeon, one of the radio personalities called a friend at Walter Reade Hospital, a record promoter knew a doctor at Children’s Hospital.
I was stunned by the heartfelt response & realized for the first time, how fortunate I was to work in an industry that afforded me entrée to people I never would have been able to reach.
I began to feel a little better. And of course through all this turmoil, I spoke to Dr. Geller every day.
He kept telling me that I had to get the biopsies to doctors who saw these kinds of tumors all the time.
I never knew that a biopsy could be duplicated & sent to multiple sites.
Within the next day or two, biopsies were being sent to Sloan-Kettering in N.Y, Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia & Walter Reade Hospital in Washington, D.C.
There was also one sent to Dr. Raphael Lattes at Presbyterian Hospital in New York, a leading pathologist in the field of soft tissue tumors.
Then began the excruciating wait.
Dr. Geller’s phone calls continued to assure me that a child’s cells look different than an adult's cells under a microscope. And that often resulted in confusion.
He said we would get a much better perspective from the sources that had the slides.
At night I would try to sleep wondering if Dr. Geller was just trying to prepare for the worst.
Finally there was an answer.
All the sources were unanimous in their diagnoses.
But the most definitive opinion came from Dr. Lattes.
Paraphrasing, he said that Rob had been misdiagnosed & the tumor was benign & was fibrous histiocytoma a soft tissue tumor that is often seen in children.
He went on to explain that under a microscope cancer cells
look like they are "exploding" & then begin to destroy other cells, a young child's cells have that same kind of "exploding" look but it only signifies growth.
He recommended a second operation, to make sure the tumor was completely removed because he saw some fragments still there.
Dr. Gellar's words came back to me, "Let's get this to someone who sees these types of biopsys all the time."
Six weeks after Rob's initial operation he was re-operated on at CHOP, to make sure the entire tumor was gone & then he was observed for 5 years.
Five years later, he was unconditionally released from any further treatment.
Naturally, all of you who know Rob knew the ending to this story.
I knew how much I owed Dr. Geller thirty five years ago but I hadn’t seen him in over thirty years.
Then I saw his name on an email ironically from Phil & all these memories came flooding back.
I got in touch with him & asked if it would be alright if I told this story.
Obviously he said yes.
So thirty five years later I’m thanking him again.
With all my health problems through the years, I’ve done my share of complaining about doctors.
But Doctor Geller & the amazing staff at Children’s Hospital renewed my faith in the medical profession.
The day I got the news that Rob was going to be well was the best day of my life.

This is a picture if Rob at 44, his wife Jen & their two year old daughter, Amanda.

STAY TUNED

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bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-08-10T21:30:00.003-04:00

And Then I Wrote…
Is nostalgia an alluring liar?

As hard as it may seem it has been one year ago that I began to subject you to punishment called my“blog” but as of today you may very well be the only person left that still reads it.

Thirty three posts later I wonder if I had a goal & if I did, have I come close?

In “Dear Pop- Pop,” I asked my grandfather for guidance, in “To Amanda on Her Sixteenth Birthday, I tried to share her future. “Betrayal,” was about the sins of The Catholic Church.”

“Yada, Yada, Yada. searched for some answers to our fascination with firearms.

I could go on but even I am not that cruel.

There were a couple of questions answered but there were far too many answers not questioned.

In “Sounds of Silence” I wrote about a thirty year old friendship that no longer existed.

Well it seems that someone sent him the blog & through my daughter, he asked for my phone number.

The results of that conversation were tepid at best.

No great revelations. No mea culpas.

Just anxious conversation followed by “we’ll talk soon.”

That was two months ago & there has been no further contact. But I said from the beginning that this was about me & that I had to be satisfied with whatever the outcome.

I can honestly say that after that conversation I felt relieved.

It’s one more check mark on the “bucket list” & it felt good.

I recommended it to anyone in a similar situation.

My “Yada Yada” asked, after six months had gone by, whether we would remember the name of the latest mass murderer who wounded Congresswoman Gabby Giffords. I also predicted that nothing would change.

Six months have gone by.

Well?

His name is Jared Loughner &amp nothing has changed..

Reunions

I have noticed that the only regular events that I’m invited to are reunions & funerals.

Although it’s a close call, reunions are more fun.

We all seem (me included) determined to re-live past times.

I wondered about it in a previous blog.

Were things so much better then or is that what we choose to believe?

Were athletes as promiscuous then, were movie stars just as drug addicted, were there less brutal murders & sexual attacks?

Well as I always say, I have more questions then answers.

I know that in this electronic world that we live in, a sneeze in New York, brings a “God Bless You” in L.A., in a matter of seconds.

This has changed everything.

But I’ve noticed something about reunions that might hold at least some of the secret to their appeal.

Whether you are with your old school classmates, or old baseball team members, the conversations are shared remembrances.

For the most part, that time is spent specifically on re-telling of times we all shared to the exclusion of the rest of the world.

Last week I went to a reunion of Record promotion men & Radio programmers.

They call themselves, "The Living Memories of the Past."

I will now digress.

Back in the day of “my flat friends the records” the world was a different place.

Before music videos & MTV, the only way to have a million selling record was to get your song played on the radio.

And to achieve that goal, record companies hired record promotion men to go to radio stations to persuade that station to play their record.

The problem with that situation was that most radio stations gave limited airplay, especially to new artists.

So twenty or so record reps each week had three or four records that their company wanted on the air. But the radio station was only adding TWO records that week.

High Jinx ensued.

Back from digressing.

So when these twenty or thirty people get together over lunch the laughter is non-stop.

Just as with my baseball team’s get-together, where we all hit .350, the stories about records & radio are not only hilarious but they’re specific to every one in the room.

No need for definitions of payola or “paper adds” or “it kept its bullet.”

And I think that may be the fascination with the past.

Not just old times but specific old times.

So whether the economy was poor or the murders were gruesome, that specific time was all about the men & women in that room & not anything else.

I can’t get too specific or this post will turn into seventy five pages but I’ll give you one of our “shared experiences.”

A record promotion man brought an artist to the

station promoting his record. The artist was Gene Chandler & the record was, “Duke of Earl.”

After making the rounds of the Philly radio stations, Gene was to perform at a rock & roll show in West Philadelphia. Now shows in those days were nothing more than ten or twenty acts, lip synching to their record & after the show signing autographs.

The next day we saw the record promotion man & asked him how the show went.

It seems that Mr. Chandler had one too many adult beverages & was unable to perform.

But the promotion man knew that it was important to do this show to keep the momentum going on his record.

So the promotion man went on stage as Gene Chandler, lip synched to the record & for fifteen minutes signed autographs.

Somewhere there are 500 people who to this day, think they saw Gene Chandler. (By the way the record went to Number One & sold a million copies)

This story was a shared experience with anyone in that room who ever promoted a record, escorted an artist around town or programmed a radio station.

Soon someone remembered another artist story or a radio station feud.

At that’s the appeal.

Next time we’ll talk about payola & the hundreds of bizarre stories that every one of us can’t wait to share.

(Did you know that when records were sold as singles (45’s) a million selling record’s “B” side got paid the same as the hit “A” side?)

Call it Kismet, but just as I finished this post I received an email from someone that I shared many memories with.

She was visiting Phila. & she stayed in the vicinity of the radio station WIP.

She said that memories of those times & the people we both knew came flooding back.

That’s exactly the point of nostalgia.

It’s not the economic situation of that time or the crime in the streets; it’s the memories that are shared.

And though these times today don’t seem so terrific, twenty years from now people will share stories of the “good all days” with people they worked with & new friends they made or the time they fell in love.

And so it goes.

Stay Tuned

Feel free to share my blog &

comments are welcomed.

bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-07-25T16:49:00.008-04:00

THE MUSIC OF MY LIFE

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with their song still in them.

Henry David Thoreau

If I hear the name Beniamino Gigli & I think of my grandfather.
Gigli was an operatic tenor & contemporary of Enrico Caruso, but my grandfather thought that Gigli’s voice was sweeter.

My cable company offers about twenty channels of music by genre.

The other day I tuned in to the “Big Band” channel.

About the third song in, was “Darn That Dream” by Billie Holiday.

I immediately thought of my mother.

She told me, when I was really young, that it was her favorite song.

Darn that dream and bless it too Without that dream, I never would have you But it haunts me and it won't come true Oh, darn that dream

I realized that music played an important part in my life, as an avocation long before it became my vocation.

Music can magically transport me to a time & place, long forgotten.

It was the early ‘50’s when I first heard the song “The Kid’s Last Fight” by Frankie Laine.

It was the first time I realized that a song could tell a story.

The song was about a prize fight between “Tiger Wilson & Kid McCoy.”

Come on, Kid, come on, Kid
Let's hit him with a left and a right
Go on, Kid, go on, Kid
But how were they to know it was the Kid's last fight

That song started me on my love of song lyrics.
When I was younger I thought the words & the lyrics were two different things.
I also realize now, that songs & their lyrics are much more than just songs.

Way before I was to make a living listening to music, I was mesmerized & envious of people who could make the music.

I am continually puzzled by people who really like certain songs but don’t know what the song is about.

When I point out what the lyrics are saying they always seemed surprised.

Some one once asked me if I liked the music of the “50’s & 60’s more than the present music.

It’s hard for me to make that distinction because most of the music of the ‘50’s & ‘60’s have a significance beyond the music.

“Kid’s Last Fight” was eighth or ninth grade, “Chances Are” by Johnny Mathis was the bar at 17th & Wolf. E Cumpare by Julius La Rosa was my high school cafeteria. (incredibly, years later I became friends with Julius.)

I just need to hear those songs & I’m transported to those places.

I hear “Venus.” & I think of Frankie Avalon, playing the trumpet & singing in a club at 17th & Jackson.

“Wildwood Days” by Bobby Rydell, brings me back to Bobby’s grandfather’s local candy store/hangout & when Bobby visited, we held him up to reach the flippers on the pinball machine.

These were the days of local dances (dances were BIG in the fifties)

There were three popular dances & I went to at least two of them every week all through High School, because I had a great dance partner.

If I hear, Glen Miller’s “Moonlight Serenade,” it’s the last song at the gym in South Catholic, if I hear “Goodnight Sweetheart,” I’m at St. Monica’s school dance & Nat King Cole’s “For All We Know” was
the last song at St. Richards Sunday night dance. (where from 10 to 10:30, girls asked the boys to dance)

For all we know this may only be a dream

We come and go like a ripple on a stream

So love me tonight; tomorrow was made for some

Tomorrow may never come for all we know

Sitting in the back booth of a hoagie shop, singing the Everly Brothers, “All I Have to do is Dream,” with Loretta, the first girl I ever met who could sing
harmony. That was all I needed to know.
I would have asked her to marry me but I was only fifteen.

I often wonder if Loretta hears that song & thinks of me.

I can make you mine, taste your lips of wine

Anytime night or day

Only trouble is, gee whiz

I'm dreamin' my life away

And of course, growing up in South Philadelphia in the Fifties, we all thought we were singers.

This is either a picture of me or an old photo from Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum of Jimmy Rosseli.

I sang Sinatra’s “Nancy with the Laughing Face,” to my daughter when she was born, changing Nancy to Donna.

And of course what describes the end of a love affair better than music?

Cause I can't make you love me if you don't

You can't make your heart feel something it won't

Knowing all the lyrics to songs from the 40’s, 50’s & 60’s soon would become an asset I could have never imagined.

Due to belief in me, from an old friend, I was given the chance to become a music director in New York City, the number one market in radio!

As we had to build a new music library from scratch my love of music served me well.

I could never have foreseen what an amazing journey it was going to be.

If there was a new record released by say, Carly Simon, the Music Director of a New York station got phone calls, urging the station to play it, from, the Artist, the Songwriters of the song, the Record Company rep, the Publisher of the song, the Producers of the song & the president of that artist’s fan club!

I met many of the performers of music from the 70’s & 80’s & added new associations with songs.

Johnny Cash’s favorite Christmas song was ‘O Holy Night” by Mario Lanza!

I heard Jim Croce’s first album before he ever had a record deal.

Jimmy's producers Cashman & West played the entire album for me while they were trying to get a record label deal.
Three years later I went to work for Cashman & West running their publishing companies.
John Travolta told me that although he had a hit TV series & made successful movies, that it was nothing compared to hearing his record on the radio!

And the music continues.

I hear songs by Lady GaGa, The Black Eye Peas & Katy Perry & I think of my granddaughter Amanda, singing every word to all their songs.

It’s customary for people my age to complain that there is no where to hear “our” music.

Well I have found the magic of an i pod or Siriuus radio where any & all music is available.

Also, I gave the “new” music a listen.

One thing I learned from working in radio was that if a large majority of people likes a certain artist, then don’t dismiss it as “these kids today.”

Eminem’s songs like, “Love the Way You Lie” & the earlier “Lose Yourself,” tell a story to some teenager, just like “Tiger Wilson vs. Kid McCoy” did for me.

And don’t dismiss the late Amy Winehouse as a "druggie." The vitriol on the Internet directed at her is alarming.
Tortured soul? Yes.
But the only one she harmed was herself.
Judge her on her talent not her short comings.
Listen to Amy's version of Carole Kings "Will you Still Love me Tomorrow." Listen to “There is no Greater Love” & “Moody’s Mood for Love.”
She also recorded an old standard, not yet released, “Body & Soul” with Tony Bennett. Yes, the 85 year old Tony Bennett.
Although the songs that I mentioned may not be familar
to you, I'm sure you have songs that are special to you.
I think everyone does.

As The Mamas & The Papas sang:
You gotta make your own kind of music sing your own special song, make your own kind of music even if nobody else sings along.

Stay Tuned

Feel free to make comments & to share my blog.

bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-07-10T18:51:00.000-04:00

BURN THE COOKIES!

The closest to perfection a person ever comes is when he fills out a job application.

Stanley J. Randall

Just had a birthday & started wondering about a few things.

I have been accused by some of my family & friends, that I like living in the past.

I don’t entirely agree although I do think a lot about woulda, coulda, shoulda.
Is that a waste of time? Absolutely!

Is it a futile exercise? Of course!

But I realize that going back & replaying past scenarios is a problem more in keeping with wanting to make everything “right.”

This of course is impossible.

Being an emotional person (when did I start crying at Hallmark commercials?) I realize that many of the important decisions in my life were made not intellectually but emotionally.

Would I have been better served with rational, sensible decisions?

Perhaps, but then that wouldn’t be me.

Hall of Fame basketball player, Jerry West, once said,”I have won more games then I can count but it’s only the losses I remember. What could I have done differently?”

Recently I was having this discussion with my friend, Jen, about the desire to “Be Perfect!”

She told me as a young newly-wed she thrived on every thing being “just so.”

Her children were always neatly dressed, the house was immaculate & she cooked & baked daily.

Her life revolved around her being “Super Mom.” (Super Mom is on the way, she has come to save the day!”

One of her favorite things she liked to do for her family was baking cookies from “scratch.”

Time consuming & tiring, never the less, it became a ritual.

One day while talking to a parish priest about how this routine was starting to wear her down he said to her “Burn the Cookies!”

She didn’t understand.

He repeated, “burn the cookies on purpose. It will show your family that you are human.”

“Burn the cookies on purpose?”

Jen’s palms began to sweat & she was beginning to feel faint.

He went on. “Your family will still eat the cookies & will think nothing more of it, than that you just made a mistake. Something that all humans experience.”

Still wary, she brought herself to burn the cookies the next time she baked.

Sure enough her family ate every one without a word.

It wasn’t that big a deal to them.

When my friend left I thought of her friend’s parable & completely understood it & agreed with it.

But in my “heart of hearts”, I could never “burn the cookies!”

I’m not sure how that feeling starts.

As a child I was complimented a lot on my good grades & neat attire.

I thought that I would always bat third & always hit the jump shot from the corner.

So when life dropped me to sixth in the batting order & my jump shot kept rattling off the rim I didn’t understand about being human.

Like Jerry West, I can’t remember my undefeated seventh grade baseball team but I can almost do play by play on the eighth grade team that went undefeated & lost the championship game to St. Richards.

I wanted to go back & “fix” all the failures.

A bad marriage, a relationship that was unsuccessful, a failed business.

If I only did this if I didn’t do that.

I dwelled on the bad marriage instead of appreciating the by-product of that marriage, Donna & Robert, my children.

I labored over the end of that relationship rather than enjoying the memories of the amazing life we shared.

I agonize over the end of an independent record company that I worked for that “didn’t make it,” rather remembering the talented people I worked with who became some of my best friends. (one of our earliest releases went “Gold!”)

Solutions that have been offered are, “Just don’t think about those things.”

That’s like me telling you not to think of a pink elephant.

I can’t learn how not to feel.

But it isn’t always that way.

Someone once told me that my last health problem put me on “death’s doorstep.”
Well I might have been in the drive-way but I’m not to sure about the doorstep.

Inexplicably, when I think of my difficult health problems of the last ten years, I only think of the triumphs not the setbacks.

So I’ll keep trying to focus on the accomplishments not the failures.

Each day I’ll try new recipes with new ingredients & maybe, just maybe, someday soon, I’ll be able to “Burn the Cookies!”

Stay Tuned

Feel free to share your thoughts &

to share my blog.

bobrusso@comcast.net

2011-06-23T19:38:00.005-04:00

Relationships

If you were going to die soon and had only one phone call you could make, who would you call and what would you say? So, why are you waiting? ~Stephen Levine

People change and forget to tell each other. ~Lillian Hellman

Last week I shared an idyllic day with my daughter, Donna. On a crystal clear, perfect, June afternoon, we went to a Phillies game. Sharing laughs & beer. (my laughs, her beer) watching the Phillies win (ho-hum) was quite secondary to the conversations.
I told her about weird jobs I had before she was born (slaughter house & railroad engineer).
She shared with me the unbelievable school room situations that a college professor faces every day. (there’s a blog!)
We shared our love stories about Amanda, my granddaughter, her niece.
We laughed out loud at her two year old perspective. We talked seriously about a temporary problem (since resolved)
We went for food & my loving daughter steered me away from a hot dog to a turkey burger. I even endured the blasphemy of her eating pita chips & hummus at a baseball game. And all too soon the afternoon was over. And again this day was a day of perspective. At my age, with my recent health problems, I realized this day probably would not have had the same effect on me twenty five years ago. Then, I was too busy with “life.”
As big a baseball fan as I am, going to a day game then meant I would have had to re-arrange the next two days in my “most important work-day life.”
My reply would have probably been something like, “We’ll do it some other time, honey.”(Like Never)

I have had many relationships in my life.

Some have developed & some have deteriorated.

It figures that if you live seventy four years, it’s inevitable for this to happen.

But the thing that amazes me is that all relationships seem to attain a different slant as my perspective changed.

On the lighter side I’ve been thinking about why I was not so successful in my personal relationships.

It’s taken me seventy odd years but I think I have finally figured it out.

I was a great first date. After that I was in trouble.

There was a recent movie titled 50 first dates.

If I could have kept it at that, I would have been highly successful.

You see as a romantic, I showed up for the first date with flowers.

I then suggested an out-of-the-way Italian bistro with incredible food & live music.

After ordering a just right Pinot Grigio, we danced while the wine was breathing.

That’s right I danced! (And I was good)

After a great meal of Rigatoni ala Russo & fascinating conversation (she was amazed about how much I knew about Manolo Blahnik & Jimmy Choo ) It was on to this little jazz club for an after dinner drink.

At her doorstep we kissed, not a peck but not a tonsillectomy.

Then POOF! in a swirl of stardust, like Keyser Soze, I was gone!

Of course after that it was all down hill.

How could I be expected to maintain that level of charm?

Just the opening & holding of doors was exhausting.

And so I was left with no second date but a new first date just around the corner if I could muster up the strength.

If you have read anything I have written you will have noticed that I am forever quoting people or noting special song lyrics that effect me. It’s not only because I probably haven’t had an original thought of my own in years but I’m envious & amazed at the poets & songwriters who seemingly know my innermost feelings & express them exactly as I would if I had the talent. I also have this desire to share things I’ve read that motivate me, in hopes that it motivates you. I am forever saving newspaper columns & magazine articles for my friends & family.

In research I came across the following song lyrics & poems.

They represent my real feelings about relationships, not the silly ones I presented.

Can it be that it was all so simple then

or has time rewritten every line?

If we had the chance to do it all again

tell me Would we? Could we? HAMLISCH, BERGMAN, & BERGMAN,

“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep... wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky his is to have you.... The one who turns to his friends and says, 'that's her.' UNKNOWN

And from Patsy Cline. “You want me to act like we've never kissed, you want to forget; pretend we've never met , and I've tried and I've tried, but I haven't yet... You walk by, and I fall to pieces.” COCKRAN & HOWARD.

This is probably plagiarism light but I try to emphasis it’s “something I read or something I heard.” I also find it easier to write drivel instead of something serious.

This on the other hand has been serious, authentic drivel.

Stay Tuned

Feel Free to Share My Blog

bobrusso@comcast.net

Stuck On Stupid

2011-06-13T21:44:00.000-04:00

I’ve been sick for awhile so this must have happened when I was “away.” When did being stupid become political?
Joe Biden is an empty suit & loose cannon.

Was he suddenly imbued with the wisdom of Jefferson when he became Vice-President?

Donald Trump is a buffoon. (albeit a rich buffoon.)

When he decided to almost run for President, what happened?

Did he have an operation to remove his buffoonery?

Does it matter who said, “The Founding Fathers ended slavery.”

Does it matter if a conservative or liberal said it?
No, it’s dumb, even if Henry David Thoreau said it.

The latest lame brain caught as a sex pervert was a Democrat!

The two before him were Republicans.

And the NINETEEN before them were either Torys or Whigs!

One has nothing to do with the other.

This became apparent to me a couple of weeks ago.
I sent an Email describing Sarah Palin’s latest twist on History.

Most laughed but a few immediately sent me websites pointing out how our President is just as dumb.
This, in a matter of minutes.

Did they have “Dumb President’s” quotes lying around just in case someone asked?

So let me concede the argument,”The President is
dumb.”
Therefore using this ideology, Sarah Palin is a Mensa candidate.

You see no one is dumb, stupid or incompetent on their own.

It all depends if they are conservative or liberal, black or white, Jew or Italian.

The former President, Bubba, who I call the dumbest Rhodes Scholar on the planet, is not only stupid & amoral to Republicans.
We all live with are own demons but the divide in our country is becoming cavernous.

I voted for this President but I think he has failed to keep campaign promises & has put together one of the worst cabinets imaginable.

But it’s not because he is black or a Democrat.
It’s because he’s a politician!

Not keeping campaign promises!

Gosh, he’s the first nominee to do that isn’t he?

How about, “Read My Lips, No New Taxes!”

That wasn’t said by a Republican, it was said by a politician, trying to get elected.

I received an email that noted that 300 million people’s decisions are made by 545 representatives.

So let’s say we (the people) had a national election & voted every last man & woman out of office.

Who would we replace them with?

545 new politicians.

We (the people) have created a monster that Mary Shelly would be proud of & seemingly, there is no quick or easy solution.

See, it’s always “them”. “They” are the reason for all our problems.

If “they” only spoke better English, if “they” would just contribute more. Damn Liberals! Damn Conservatives!
Why can’t “they” be more like “us?”

As someone once said. “Plenty of Pluribus, No Enum.”

A theory that is the antithesis of everything America is supposed to represent.

The Statue of Liberty’s inscription says, "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free. It doesn’t say give me your huddled masses (Except for the god damn..….)

When does comparison stand as an alibi?

“Yes, your honor, I killed those three people but I didn’t kill as many as Charles Manson!”

“Yes, your honor I flew to South America to be with my mistress BUT at least my wife doesn’t have cancer!

Assumptions of ALL people being ALL the same is ludicrous in politics, race or religion.

Aren’t there just morons?

Why are morons Republican or Democratic?

Conservatives or Liberals?

Are all Catholic priests, pedophiles?

Some say that there is just as much pedophilia in other walks of life.
Let’s use the same argument.

If there is just as much pedophilia in other organizations, it doesn’t absolve the Catholic Church.

I read the following somewhere & it pretty much sums up the society we have become.

You’re sitting in a restaurant, having dinner & seated at the bar is a man obviously intoxicated. He takes one more shot, falls off the stool & hits the floor unconscious. The bartender & the bouncer call a cab & send him home.

Next week you’re in the same restaurant having dinner & seated at the bar is a man obviously intoxicated, but he’s black. He takes one more shot & falls off the stool & hits the floor unconscious. The bartender & the bouncer call a cab & send him home.

The difference is that the black man’s entire race falls off the stool with him.

“Effin N-----s, they’re all the same.” “They’re a disgrace."
Ah, yes the old familiar “they.”

Never mind that the white man is a drug dealer & the black man works in a school for handicapped children.

Our salacious appetites, “for all things seedy,” fuel these stories.

We know every slimy detail about the love life of the former Governor of California or the mistress of the presidential nominee but we don’t know who favors a voucher plan for Medicare or who is voting for the privatization of Social Security.

We rather know who they’re “diddling,” rather than know who is “diddling” us.

Sarah Palin is a narcissistic, nitwit!

And John Edwards is scum!

Can’t we hate the old fashioned way?

Call me a dago, pervert, effin, son of a bitch, bastard.

But do you have to add, “Liberal!”

George Washington is the only president who didn't blame the previous administration for his troubles.

Don't vote, it only encourages them.

How come we choose from just two people to run for president and 50 for Miss America?

Stay Tuned

Please feel free to share my blog & your comments

bobrusso@comcast.net

MUSINGS

2011-06-03T18:30:00.019-04:00

A calm intent, consideration, reflection, rumination,
thoughtfulness or contemplation.

Does anyone muse anymore?
I am one who is forever musing.

And when I muse could that be defined as a musing?
Just asking.

By now, we all know the Navy Seals incredible story & the assassination of Bin Laden. But one thing about that story got me wondering. The Seals had cameras on their helmets in the raid on Abbottabad, Pakistan & were transmitting in real time to the Situation Room at the White House, 7,053 miles away! Then how come a 15 minute summer shower knocks out my cable??

On the TV show, To Catch a Predator, why does Chris

Hanson come off as sleazy as the predators??

Saw this quote by that busy guy, anonymous, “How did I go from someone you used to love, to someone you used to know?”

One Million, Two Million, FIVE Million?

What can a janitor at the Defense Department get from The National Enquirer or the Star for the picture of Bin Laden dead!

According to reports, Pippa Middelton, the sister of the new duchess has been offered Five million dollars to do one sex scene on camera. So how does one approach that?

Dear Pippa, You don’t know me but……….

As a boy of eleven or twelve I engaged in a conversation with my older & wiser friend (he was thirteen) about, “where do babies come from.” (I told you I was a late bloomer.) In a whispered, most confidential voice he said, “well the husband & wife (this was the 50’s) go to the hospital & “they” take a part of the man & a part of the woman & they make a baby.” Nodding, I muttered something like, “Oh, sure.”

For the next three months I was traumatized trying to figure out which part did I have to give.

It was about the same time I began some research on the Trappist monks.

Little did my worldly friend know how close he was to the truth. As any parent can tell you when your child is born, they do take a piece of a man & a woman. The children take your heart from that day on.

I’ve got to set my alarm this weekend I don’t want to miss a minute of the Royal Wedding! (What’s that you say?)

As a child I was NEVER home alone!

I am old enough to be Nicole Kidman’s father but none of my thoughts about her have ever been paternal.

Do You Care?

That Steven Tyler’s real name is Steven Victor

Tallarico?

That the TV weatherman, Willard Scott, was the first Ronald McDonald?

That Time Magazine’s, Man of the Year in 1938 was Adolph Hitler?

That John Forsythe, of Charlie’s Angels, was once the public address announcer at Ebbet’s Field?

(If you don’t know what Ebbet’s Field was, never mind)

That Captain Kirk never said "Beam me up, Scotty," but he did say, "Beam me up, Mr. Scott.”

George Harrison, with "My Sweet Lord," was the first Beatle to have a Number 1 hit single following the group's break –up.

That in 1938 Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel sold all rights to the comic-strip character, Superman, to their publishers, for $130.

That Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Jim Morrison were all 27 years old when they died.

The f-word In Brian De Palma's 1984 movie, "Scarface," is spoken 206 times - an average of once every 29 seconds.It is not spoken at all in the
“Godfather!”

RADAR is an acronym for Radio Detection and Ranging.

That the tickets for Woodstock, in 1969, were $18 for three days.

That Telly Savalas was Jennifer Aniston’s Godfather.

AND…

What ever happened to Arsenio Hall?

Can you buy a television anywhere that’s not a flat screen?

Can you buy a pen that you fill with ink? (fountain pen)

Can you buy ink? Is there still blue/black?

Do kids play the kissing game “Post Office” (I’m afraid to ask what they play, instead)

Astronaut Buzz Aldrin’s mother’s maiden name was Moon!

The word Pennsylvania is misspelled on the Liberty Bell.

Elephants are the only mammals that can’t jump.

The Catholic Church is the largest landowner in NYC.

Neil Armstrong first stepped on the moon with his left foot.

In a deck of cards, the King of Hearts is the only King without a mustache.

In every episode of Seinfeld there is a “superman” somewhere.

Stay Tuned

Feel free to share my blog & any comments.

bobrusso@comcast.net

DELOREAN ALERT

2011-05-23T11:47:00.002-04:00

I've never let my school interfere with my education. Twain

When was the last time you looked at your High School year book?

While looking in the bottom of my closet for my car keys (that was the only place left that I hadn’t looked) I noticed the year book, stuck under a pile of 45 records.
I found out that the word “swell” was big in the year I graduated.
Written beside faces I barely remembered was the line, “To a swell guy.”
Not a handsome guy, not a great guy but a swell guy!

I wondered just how much I really remembered about High School.

Let’s get the Flux Capacitor, fluxing, & head back to that wonderful year, 1955. The year I graduated from High School.
Back in the day, some things were really weird.
First it was not peculiar to us that our Southeast Catholic High School (all boys) was right in the middle of the city.

Our “campus” the Ninth Street Market (were Rocky ran) was bordered on the south side at Ninth & Passyunk by Pat’s Steaks (there was no Geno’s) & by Isgro’s Italian Bakery, Ninth & Christian on the north side. (notice that I always use food outlets for landmarks.)
Pass vegetable stands, fruit carts, poultry stores, with catchy signs that said, “If you can’t make both ends meet, make one end poultry.”
For those who don’t know what a poultry store was, it was where you could buy a live chicken & they killed it while you waited. (We’re talking, FRESH)

One block away was Sophomore Hall at Eighth & Christian & one more block was Senior Hall at Seventh & Christian.
I always wondered if the founders of my high school purposely chose “Christian” street as the site for their Catholic High School.
Classes flowed back & forth between the two buildings.
Pass water ice stands, cheese steak grills & cigarette stores.
Buses, trolley cars & autos added to the confusion.
And they were all off limits.

No smoking, No eating, No talking, No chewing gum & most of all No laughing!
Priests, patrolling the streets, handed out as many detention slips as their little, holy hands could write.

And detention was the domain of Father Cagney.

(Is there still detention in High schools, today?)

Tougher than his movie namesake, detention with Father Cagney was the 1950’s version of water boarding.

Seated at every other desk there was No talking, No eating, No sleeping & the big one, No READING!

That’s right, we couldn’t even read a school book.

You sat there for one hour doing nothing!

There were one hour detentions for “small” stuff, talking in class, no homework, etc.

But there was also hard time, five to ten hours, for the “lifers.” (guys who seemingly spent their high school life in detention)

I joined that elite group the first time I tried to play hookey.

Hiding in our favorite candy store, smoking cigarettes & playing pinball seemed well worth skipping school.

There was one teensy, little problem.

On a day a student was absent, a parent had to call the school before 9:30am.

Nino & I coerced the owner of the candy store, Angie, to call in as Nino’s mother.

(Don’t ever think of calling in yourself & disguising your voice to sound like your father. I really believe that the priests had some futuristic caller ID that caught everybody who ever tried it.)

Angie talked to Father Cagney’s secretary & was about one question away from pulling this off when IT happened.

We watched the color drain from Angie’s face as she cupped the speaker of the phone & whispered to us “They asked me (Nino’s mother) to spell my last name!

Nino’s last name was Mastrogiovanni.

The next thing Angie heard through the silence was Father Cagney’s voice, “is Russo with him?”

You see, these CIA agents, would check to see if two or more students from the same parish were out “sick” on the same day.

We never had a chance!

The school building at Seventh Street has since been converted into apartments.

I can’t help wondering who is living in my homeroom.

The other thing that’s indelible in my mind is the first time I saw Wilt Chamberlin walk into our gym.

A little background; our gym was on the ground floor of Seventh street. When you walked through the front door, a second door was about ten feet away & that was the entrance to the gym.

Step down three steps & you were on the court.

The near basket was about five feet from those steps.

On the far side of the court the basket was about ten feet from a stage.

(All activities at the school were held in the gym. Saturday dances, theater presentations, class assemblies, basket ball games, etc.)

If you drove hard to the basket on one side, you took your lay-up, jumped the three steps, banged through both doors & landed on Seventh Street, interrupting pedestrian traffic, street traffic & whoever else was in the path of a sophomore in gym shorts.

To drive the far basket was a little trickier.

After making the basket you had to scale the stage (about four foot high) & crash into the stage curtains.

By the way, behind the curtains served as visiting dressing rooms.

The home team (us) changed in the luxurious quarters known as the Men’s Room.

So picture the entrance of a seven foot one, 275 lb. (the first we had ever seen) basketball player, into that gym!

These were the days of 5'10" forwards. Our center Jim Tobin was 6'2"
Before there was goal tending, before three second violations and before dunking, (Dippy introduced dunking to us, up close & personal)

Chamberlin was down right scary!

Jack Kraft was our team’s coach. (yes, that Jack Kraft of Villanova fame)

He tried every zone known to man because no one was going to play Dippy one on one.

If we took a jump shot, Dippy swatted back three times hardier then we shot it.

But he saved the best for last.

On a fast break led by Overbrook’s chirping, frenetic guard, Chamberlin took a lob pass at the foul line, took one step & DUNKED the ball.

All five of our players shouted in unison, “TIME OUT!!
What the f*** was that?

We could not have known then that a new era of basketball was developing right before our eyes.

Although this was an exhibition game, Overbrook was in the Public League & South was in the Catholic, we met again in the City title game.

Overbrook defeated South Catholic by 74–50. Chamberlain scored 32 points and had led Overbrook to a flawless 19–0 season.

Chamberlin also held Public School records in high jump, long jump & track.

He was the best athlete I ever saw & he was SEVEN, ONE!

What other high school player could have had the NBA change its rules?

Ah, the memories!

I think I’ll re-fuel the Delorean in a couple of weeks, head back to High School & tell you all about, the Hennigan moving van, the mysteries of Cafeteria food, smoking in the boys room (long before Brownsville Station or Motley Crew) & the annual “Pirates Pranks,” (Pirates was the school’s nickname) an all male review in which I played Zsa Zsa Gabor.

Really!!

Sep 1, 1934 - Southeast Catholic opened Sept. 1, 1934, as the only all-boys Archdiocesan high school in South Philadelphia and the fourth one in the city overall.

Stay Tuned

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Leave comments

bobrusso@comcast.net

BETRAYAL

2011-05-14T16:14:00.001-04:00

All things truly wicked start from innocence. Hemingway

If you have read any of my prior posts, you know I was raised Catholic & attended Catholic grade school & Catholic high school.
In a recent “opinion piece” in a local newspaper titled, “Being Catholic in Philly,” the writer describes himself as a husband & father.

He goes on to say & I quote, “If I can make mistakes so can priests.”

He stated, “like any other men, priests make mistakes & shouldn’t be held to any higher standard than any other man!”

Where should I begin?

MISTAKES!?

A mistake is when you wear one blue sock with one black sock.

PEDOPHILA is a CRIME not a mistake!

Repeated pedophilia is an abomination.

And should the standards be higher for a priest?

You’re damn right they should.

These predators not only betrayed the most innocent of our society, they are the same men who after committing these heinous crimes heard Confessions & distributed Holy Communion!

I’m telling you this because I want you to better understand my anger towards the Church.

Also, I want to be very clear.

This is not about the Catholic religion; it’s about the Catholic Church.

The absolute arrogance & duplicitous behavior is beyond the ken.

If the crime of pedophilia is not horrid enough the crime of enablement is unconscionable.

But because the Church is completely removed from their congregation’s needs (especially in the U.S.) they our even more condescending in their attitude.

The Catholic Church “doesn’t get it!”

They “never got it.”

I am reminded of an incident that happened when I was a high school student. I mentioned that the Norbetine Fathers were the teachers at my high school.

Every so often they were asked by parishes in Philadelphia to help with Sunday mass.
One of these priests, Father Richard Carson, was asked to assist at mass, at St. Monica’s, my parish.
After only two weeks, there was not a seat in the church, at the Mass that Fr. Carson was saying. In fact there were people standing in the rear & down the aisles. (at a Mass that at best, was one third full any other time)
And the reason was, Fr. Carson, “got it.”
His sermons were based on the everyday problems that the congregation faced; How to avoid the temptation of cheating on your income tax, the evils of racism, etc., everyday life problems.
They were unlike the usual sermons; “Paul on the road to Damascus, the trials of Job,” etc.
People wanted to know how to embrace a religion that seemingly was out of touch with their every day needs.
After about a month, Fr. Carson was told, thanks, but his services were no longer needed.
He was becoming way too popular.
A typical move from a clueless Church.

That was over fifty years ago & the only thing that has changed is the Church is even more cavalier in their attitude today.
Newspaper headlines declared Pope John Paul II was being, “Fast tracked” on the road to Sainthood.
Begin the process for sainthood, now? Really?!

Although Philadelphia priest are at the core of local stories, the problem of pedophilia is pandemic.
At least twenty five Bishops &Cardinals have been released of their duties in places as far away as Australia, Germany & Ireland. And in the U.S. in Wyoming, California, New Mexico & Florida.

Let us not forget that the beatified, Pope John Paul II, took Cardinal Bernard Law, disgraced Cardinal of Boston, the first individual shown to have actively participated in the cover-up of child molestation & assigned him to the prestigious position of archpriest of the St. Mary Major Basilica in Rome. Law also serves on several Vatican boards and committees and he participated in the 2005 conclave that elected Pope Benedict.

Before Law’s resignation, 65 parishes in the Boston area were closed mainly due to the settlements paid by the Church in civil suits.
Oh, by the way that new position in Rome pays $12,000 a MONTH!!
So this monster was REWARDED!

When presented with these facts Deal Hudson, president of Catholic Advocate and director of Insidecatholic.com, a conservative Catholic web site, said this in defense of Cardinal Law: “When you stand back and look across the United States at all the dioceses and the way this scenario was repeated in so many dioceses and in some cases with even higher levels of abuse cases, I don’t think that animus is fair.”

So the defense of pedophiles & Cardinals that protected them is, “Well, we weren’t as bad as Hitler!!”
Un-f***ing believable.

But there is a completely “Slow track” to put an end to the pedophiles.
On Sun. April 24th, the Philadelphia Inquirer, released a survey sent to 881 area priests. The survey asked if they would support legislation to abolish the statue of limitations in child abuse cases & allow victims to file civil lawsuits.
The overwhelming majority 716 (81%) didn’t return the self-addressed, anonymous, post cards.
Of the 165 who did respond, 114 (69%) voted “no.”
43 postcards had the word NO! in bold, all caps.
So much for “Shepherds of the Church!”
Too bad their victims don’t have a “statue of limitations” on their nightmares.
God Damn them all to the deepest part of hell!

Stay Tuned
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Comments Welcomed
bobrusso@comcast.net

The Sound of Silence

2011-05-05T16:21:00.002-04:00

"Forgiveness and letting go are the only steps
on our road back to happiness."

I saw a bumper sticker the other day that made me laugh.
It said, “I’m getting old at the worst possible time.”
I now know that although I’ve learned a lot in the last 70 years plus, there is still way too much I haven’t figured out.

With minutia floating around in my head, like knowing Mr. Bluster’s first name on “Howdy Doody” or that he had a twin brother, is there any wonder I don’t understand one word from Ben Bernike, no matter how hard I try.

Am I too young to be a life coach? (What ever the hell that is)

Am I too old for a life lesson?

For example, I know a couple that have been married for over 50 years & I was with them the first night they met.

What are the odds?

But that couple has not spoken to me in over twenty years!

I still don’t know why.

It is one of the things in life that I haven’t figured out.

First some perspective, I’ve known him for over fifty years.

Almost every baseball team that I can remember, he played second & I played first.

Through our teen years, dances, private clubs, & just “hanging” on the corner, I saw him almost every day.

As I mentioned earlier, I was with him the first time he met his wife.

I was there when his first daughter was born. He knew my first wife, and was a friend through my divorce & became good friends with the woman whom I had a 12 year relationship.(I believe they’re still friends)

He is godfather to my son & his wife was my best female friend.

He & his wife were regular visitors when I moved to N.Y.

For at least twenty years we shared Thanksgiving dinners.

When I married for a second time, in 1982, I married a woman who I knew for over 20 years, he also knew her 20 years.

We shared summer vacations “down the shore” with our children & winter vacations in the Poconos.

I could go on but I think you get the idea.

But like in any relationship, we had our differences.

Our lives took different paths.

He was a hard working father of three & married for over 50 years.

I was divorced after 5 years of marriage.

Since his marriage he’s lived in Philadelphia & moved only four times in those 50 years.

After my divorce, I spent 11 years in N.Y & moved 19 times!

But there were more differences.

As a “bleeding heart liberal” I had problems with the culture in which I grew up.

I was proud to be Italian American but was always at odds with many of my friends on the subject of race relations, politics & blind allegiance to any one whose name ended in a vowel.

He & I from time to time had these debates. (Arguments)

But our shared “loves” usually outweighed our individual differences.

On a warm July evening, some twenty odd years ago, he & his wife returned to our home for an after dinner drink.

Now I am not clear on what happened yesterday, so my memory of how we got on one of those subjects twenty years ago is a bit sketchy but I do remember we had a heated discussion.

As usual I felt nothing was resolved & we ended the night on a rather subdued note.

That was the last time I spoke to him & his wife.

I mentioned earlier that I have learned a few things in life & one is those relationships whether they are between husband & wife, lovers, or friend & friend, both parties have to want the same result or it can’t work.

I was completely confused by his actions but I heard through his relatives that this is how he wanted it.

And so I did not have contact with him for five years.

And then my wife, Maryann, was diagnosed with colon cancer.

She died only six months after diagnosis.

But in those six months, showing incredible courage, she returned to work while still going through weekly radiation & chemotherapy.

Maryann had worked for the same radio station for fifteen years.

Their address & phone number were unchanged.

People who had worked with her, called almost daily for lunch.

After work she had drinks with relatives or friends.

I mentioned earlier that he knew Maryann for over twenty years before we were married & yet through those six months he never contacted her.

If I where the problem, there was ample time & opportunity for him to call or see her without me.

And so another fifteen years of silence have passed.

So why am I redressing this now?

Part of it is because my recent health scare shook me more than any other time in my life.

I began thinking about past times & people.

I thought of the sayings about “making amends”& that the only people who fear death are those with regrets.

And although I didn’t feel that this problem was of my doing, maybe it was time to end this.

I remember as a young boy going to relative’s funerals & hearing the stories of brothers & sisters that had not spoken in fifty years.

I always thought that this was insanity.

Wasn’t not talking to someone because they made you angry relegated to the fourth grade?

But I also realized that in this scenario, I was truly a hypocrite.

If my son or daughter or a good friend told me the same story, about themselves, I know exactly what advice I’d offer them.

“Life’s too short, the weak can never forgive, forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.” Yada, Yada, Yada.

So what is my problem?

I’ll digress here for a moment. (If you have read any of my posts you know I digress, frequently.)

In an earlier post I’ve spoken about an old baseball team that has been getting together three or four times a year for the last three years.

He & I were both on that team. A mutual friend began asking me why he never came to these meetings.

I told him I honestly didn’t know and that he would have to ask him.

At two meetings this year that friend kept asking me about inviting him to our next meeting. He said something about, “Life’s too short, the weak can never forgive, Yada, Yada, and Yada.” It sounded vaguely familiar.

And so with my fading health & opportunity available, I have been thinking about reaching out to him.

I understand that whatever happens, I’m doing this for me.

He might say no thanks & I have to be alright with that.

There is a team meeting next month.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do.

I wonder what life lesson I will learn from this?

Stay Tuned

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bobrusso@comcast.net

Vast Wasteland

2011-04-26T13:38:00.006-04:00

In 1961, Federal Communications Commission (FCC) chairman Newton N. Minow addressed the convention of the National Association of Broadcasters. The speech was Minow’s first major speech after he was appointed chairman of the FCC by President John F Kennedy.

In the speech, Minow referred to television programming as a “vast

Wasteland” and advocated for programming in the public interest.

Well, I doubt that Mr. Minow was ever confined to his home for two months. His “vast wasteland” reference might be considerably altered.

And just what is the public’s interest? Is the House Wives of Orange County in the public interest?

But I’ve come to praise television not to bury it.

On the bright side:

In one daytime period I watched Fred Astaire & Eleanor Powell dance in “Broadway Melody of 1940.” If you only know Ginger Rogers with Mr. Astaire, give yourself a treat & watch Fred & Eleanor dance to Begin the Beguine. Pure magic!

Later that same day I watched the Los Angeles Dodgers live from Chavez Ravine with announcer, the legendary Vince Scully. (Who else but Scully would know that the Braves second baseman Dan Uggla’s last name means owl, in Swedish!) I am old enough to remember when there where no teams west of St. Louis & hardly any away games were ever broadcast on radio.

I also watched parts of the NHL playoffs, the NBA playoffs, the movies“The Fighter” & “The King’s Speech.” In “The Fighter,” Christian Bale plays completely against type & deserving of the Academy Award & Firth & Rush in “Speech” are brilliant. Also The History Channel’s, “The Civil War,” or “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire” and about twenty minutes of “The Godfather.” The Godfather has become almost Pavlovian with me. If I’m surfing the channels, which is my wont, I only have to hear the theme from the Godfather & I’m there till the next commercial, hanging on every word as if I never saw it before! Of course, only watching ten minutes of any show is all due to my dexterity with the remote control. (And you wonder why I’ve lived alone for sixteen years?)

On the dark side:

Of course there are the old stand-bys, Jerry Springer & Maury Povich!

Ten minutes of Jerry makes me wonder why I don’t know a transgendered person having an affair with their gay uncle. (It all seems so routine)

On an interview with Mr. Springer, he said when first approached to do the show, he said,” that premise can only last four or five shows. By then we will have run out of crazies!”

The show has been on TEN YEARS!

Chuck Barris, (The Gong Show, $1.98 Beauty Show) the originator of weird television, once said, “Promise people free tickets to a TV show & they will stand in the rain for four hours. Once there in, they will do anything on camera that you ask, as long as you promise them an appliance! ”

Then there’s DWTS, So You Think You Can Dance, Housewives of (fill in the blank)

I have an idea for a reality show. It’s called, “Dancing With Murderers.”

Charlie Manson doing “The Twist,” Sirhan Sihran doing “The Limbo,” etc.

Three Wardens as the panel of judges!
Degree of difficulty will be high, considering the leg irons.

Sure the “vast wasteland” still exists, but I think that television, as an invention has been much maligned.

My argument for television is based on its instant popularity.

Back in the day (I was there) television programming began at 7:45p.

Prior to that a test pattern came on at 7:30. (Ask your grandparents what a test pattern was)

We stared at that for 15 minutes & then a news show, “Camel Caravan” with John Cameron Swayze was on until 8pm. Camel cigarettes the sponsor, insisted that there would be a camel burning in the ashtray in front of Swayze, for the entire 15 minutes. About 10:15 or 10:30p the stations signed off & played the national anthem over a waving flag.

The number of television sets in use rose from 6,000 in 1946 to some 12 million by 1951. No new invention entered American homes faster than television sets; by 1955 half of all U.S. homes had one.

(Of course, Mel Brooks as the 2000 year old man, when asked the greatest invention of the last 2000 years, replied “Saran Wrap!”)

I didn’t mean to start a history lesson about TV but I do feel it’s easy to find all the things wrong with it but when you have few choices, it can deliver a wide assortment of entertainment.

Of course my erudite friends with their noses in the air give me that, “Oh, I hardly watch TV but when I do, I only watch PBS”

Right!

There is not enough electricity in the world to shock you out of your coma if you only watched, PBS.

But “Snookie & Charlie Sheen & Celebrity Re-Hab, says more about us then it does about them. All the shows that you may question, are on because they draw an audience where Networks can sell advertising.

“Mafia Brides” first show, last week, drew 2.2 million viewers. And that was on VHI not a major network.

So before you dismiss TV as a “Vast Waste Land” you might want to consider that we, the audience, are the Vast Waste Land.

Movies, Movies, Movies

“Little” movies you may have missed.

Sidney Lumet’s, 2006, Find Me Guilty

Little Voice (1998)

Big Night (1996)

City Island 2009

Predictably, three of these have an Italian family as their main theme.

Some of my Favorite Movie Lines

A kid comes up to me in a white jacket, gives me a Ritz cracker, and uh, chopped liver, he says Canapés. I say uh, uh, can o' peas my ass, that's a Ritz cracker and chopped liver!

Fredo, bring out the peppers an sauseege (sausage) The Godfather

The defense objects!

The objections overruled, counsel.

Sir, the defense strenuously objects!    Few Good Men

Actors! They travel all over the world & all they see is mirrors. King Kong

“It’s the stuff that dreams are made of” Maltese Falcon

“I ate his liver with some fava beans and nice Chianti." Silence/Lambs

"I am big! It's the pictures that got small." Sunset Blvd.

"I'm walking here! I'm walking here! Midnight Cowboy

"Oh, Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon. We already have the stars." Now

Voyager

"I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Street Car/ Desire

“Snap out of it!" Moonstruck

"Nobody puts 'Baby' in a corner." Dirty Dancing

GONE TOO SOON

Glenn Miller (40)…Bobby Darin (37)…Harry Chapin (38)..Elvis (42) Freddie Prinze Sr. (22)... James Dean (24)…Carole Lombard (33)…George Gershwin (38)…Mario Lanza (38)... Jayne Mansfield (34)…Rudolph Valentino (31)…Eddie Duchin (40)…Russ Columbo (26)…Natalie Wood (43)…Sam Cooke (33)…Karen Carpenter (32)…John F. Kennedy, Jr. (38)…Richie Valens (17)…Marilyn Monroe (36)…Gilda Radner (42)…Bunny Berrigan (33)…Judy Garland (47)…Billie Holliday (44)... Jim Croce (30)…Jean Harlow (26)…John Garfield (39)... Robert Walker (32)…Enrico Caruso (48)…Martin Luther King (39)…Andy Kaufman (35)…Arthur Ashe (49)... Nat (King) Cole (45)…Rickey Nelson (45)... Diana, Princess of Wales (36)...John Belushi (33)...Chris Farley (33) Bruce Lee (32)... Heath Ledger (29)... Buddy Holly (23)

Stay Tuned

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bobrusso@comcast.net

Pop-Pop Where’s the Button?

2011-03-28T22:20:00.009-04:00

My two year old granddaughter, Amanda, was staring strangely at the little stuffed bear that she held in her hand.

“Pop-Pop,” she asked, as she carried the bear towards me, “where’s the button?”

At first I didn’t know what she meant but then I realized what she was asking.

Every giraffe, reindeer & Snoopy, sleeping on the roof of his dog house, either sang, danced or lit up & played music.

And all of these toys had a button that started them.

I said, “honey, this is a stuffed bear, it doesn’t do anything.”

She looked at me like I had lost my mind, turned the bear upside down & shook it.

Finally, she put in down & went over to her marching band that sang & danced to “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.”

But her words, “Pop-Pop where’s the button?” resonated with me in a really strange way.

All of my life I’ve been looking for the “button.”

But not the turn “on” button but the turn “off” button.

Having a mind that races on, unbridled, is not a gift

This affliction was never more apparent than last month.

I took my first ride in a helicopter but it wasn’t exactly what I had expected.

With an IV in both arms, strapped on a board like Hannibal Lechter, I was being airlifted to Thomas Jefferson Hospital in Philadelphia.

About a two hour car ride from Somers Pt., New Jersey, the helicopter

would get me there in twenty minutes!

Having a heart attack on the way to a hospital that does not have a cardiac trauma center can be problematic.

I knew things weren’t going my way when I found out that the Emergency Room doctor on duty was Dr.Grim! (could I make this shit up?)

The doctor called for the helicopter from the emergency room & I heard him say a severe M.I. (Myocardial Infarction)

Why don’t they just say heart attack?

As I got to the roof, the helicopter was running & I thought, where’s the theme song from M*A*S*H?

The medics lifted the gurney onto a rail & slid it till it locked on the runner.

I was given a head set with a microphone attached & was told to use it if I needed anything.

Without it I couldn’t be heard over the noise from the helicopter.

A small monitor was on my chest displaying my vital signs.

And then the medic leaned over, tapped my shoulder & said, “Relax.”

I’m sure you have heard that when someone is about to die their life flashes before their eyes. But my life has always been flashing before my eyes & I keep looking for the “button” to turn it off.

So as the copter started off I tried to block out everything.

O.K., this is me relaxing.

LorettaFranchinniagirlwithblondecurlsfromfirstgradeattheAnnuinciationschool.PeteSuderwasthesecondbasemanforthePhila.A’sinthe‘50’s.KathyCashCall.Donna&Robthelovesofmylife.AmandaAmanda.StillangrythatitrainedonDonna’sweddingday&thatwas16yearsago.Ronnie’ssuicide.Sex.Fredoyoubrokemyheart.ByebyeMissAmericanPie.20gamewinnerwiththemostcareerhomeruns.MydatewithHalleBerry,oh wait that’s the morphine not my life.

They were shaking my shoulders & I thought they could have let that lastpart continue for another minute or so.

O.K that’s enough relaxing.

The true pressure, when in this situation, is more mental than physical.

As I was wheeled into Critical Care, I was greeted by every nurse & every doctor, by name.

“Hi, Mr.Russo, How do you feel Mr.Russo, we’ll have you all set-up in just a couple of minutes, Mr. Russo.”

This was the “Cheers” of cardiac care. Everyone knew my name.

Now if you have been in a hospital as many times as I have, you know that you can be there for three days before everyone knows your name.

And so although I tried not to think about what was happening, it’s virtually impossible. I was thankful for the care but knowing why I needed it was way scarier than the pain.

All the equipment around me said, “Last Stop!”

Well obviously you know the ending to the saga or you wouldn’t be reading this.

Eight more days of beeps, blood tests, & EKG’s & a hundred other tests, all described with letters not names.

But by the sixth or seventh day I said to my daughter, “I can’t believe this, I’m going to beat this thing again.”

You might find it hard to believe but I am now at the point where I don’t know how many heart attacks I’ve had. Contributing to that factor is the hospital stays for heart failure, Defibrillation discharge, shortness of breath, Atrial fibrillation, Ventricular tachycardia, Implantable cardiac defibrillator (ICD).
Don’t you love musical comedies?
I appreciate everyone’s concern & I was amazed by the number of questions concerning when was I going to blog again.
Watch what you wish for.
Meanwhile, Amanda & I will keep searching for the “button.”

Stay Tuned

Bobrusso@comcast.net

Feel free to share my blog

For Amanda on Her Sixteenth Birthday

2011-01-22T13:45:00.004-05:00

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.”

When thinking about the future, I often find my self wondering about the future of Amanda, my granddaughter.

I think that there are many things I would like to see her do but I know the probability of seeing them is slim.

Recently I read an article about a woman who regretted putting off things to do with her father & now that he has passed she regrets her missed chances.

That got me to thinking of how I could share my life with Amanda even though I probably won’t be here.

I decided to write to her for the year 2025.

That’s the year she’ll turn sixteen.

Dear Amanda Grace, 2011

Hi Beautiful!

I wish I was here with you to celebrate your sweet sixteenth but I am here. I’ve never been far away.

When you were a baby, I held you & kissed you as many times as I could because I knew my time with you was limited.

But I want you to know me, so this is my attempt at that.

Maybe your Mom & Dad told you that I went to college later in life.

That’s when I began to write. I hope you have seen the poems I’ve written about you.

Having read so many great writers late in my life has inspired me to write to you. I wondered how I could share my life with your life.

Here are some thoughts:

Honey, first you have to follow your heart. If college doesn’t appeal to you now, then get an education from life. You can always go back to school.

I did it (don’t wait that long) and so has your mother & talk to your Aunt Donna and Uncle Frank.

But how can I share my life with you?

Well, here are some more of my thoughts.

Begin to see the world (It’s never too early to start, because you’ll never get to see it all)

Visit New York.

Go to a Broadway show. Maybe you’ll go to a theater that I went to.

Maybe you’ll be thrilled by Broadway as I was & we can share that.

Feel the excitement of the city. I lived there for eleven years.

Maybe you will live there someday & we can share that.

Go to San Francisco and stay at the Mark Hopkins hotel.

Go to the “Top of the Mark.”

I stayed there.

See the Golden Gate Bridge at sunrise. I did. Go to Fisherman’s Wharf & eat at DiMaggio’s if it’s still there. Maybe you’ll sit at the same table I did.

Take a car trip on the ocean route south to Los Angeles.

On the way, stop at San Louis Obispo & watch the sunset at The San Louis Obispo Inn. I did.

I know these things may seem daunting to you at sixteen. Not to worry.

Back in 2008 there was a popular book, “A Thousand Places to See before You Die”. Just start the list.

Go to Italy!

I didn’t go there until I was 65 but it was a spiritual experience for me.

Go to Florence, (in Italy it’s Firenze not Florence) to the Uffizi Museum.

Be stunned by its amazing beauty. Know that in your moments of awe, I felt exactly the same way.

Go see Michelangelo's “David” in the Galeria dell'Academia in Firenze.

You will stare in disbelief. If you stand facing David & move just a little to your right, maybe you’ll be in my footsteps.

Walk the cobble stone streets of Sienna. ( my favorite city)

I’ll walk with you.

Here at home, maybe your dad will still have the season tickets to the Phi-eees. (That’s how you pronounced the Phillies when you were a baby.)

I loved baseball & maybe you’ll sit in the same seats that I did.

As for your personal life, fall in love, (much later) completely.

If the hair on your arm doesn’t quiver when he brushes against you,

FIND SOMEONE ELSE!

There is nothing in this world like that feeling.

Wait for it. It’s worth the wait.

I was fortunate enough to have that feeling.

Talk to Aunt Donna.

Work to keep your family ties.

They all may seem like bores at sixteen but usually they’re the ones that come through when the going gets tough.

Be a physicist or not. Be a model or not. Be the President or not.

Or be a mommy & have lots of babies, or not!

There will be limitless opportunities for you.

Some will not work out as you thought and some will surprise you beyond belief.

Just immerse yourself 100% in everything you do. That spirit will help you later in life in ways you can’t imagine.

“Vevere Senza Rimpianti” is an Italian saying that loosely translated means, “Live Without Regret.”

Although, I think it is impossible to live a full life without having ONE regret it is an ambitious theory, worth trying.

I hope that some of this has helped you to know me.

When you get the chance I hope you dance!

“I Hope You Dance,” was a popular song about 20 years ago.

It says what I want for you.

“I hope you never lose your sense of wonder,
You get your fill to eat but always keep that hunger,
May you never take one single breath for granted,
God forbid love ever leave you empty handed,
I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,
Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens,
Promise me that you'll give faith a fighting chance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.
I hope you dance....
I hope you never fear those mountains in the distance,
Never settle for the path of least resistance
Living might mean taking chances, but they're worth taking,
Loving might be a mistake but it's worth making,
Don't let some hell bent heart leave you bitter,
When you come close to selling out, reconsider,
Give the heavens above more than just a passing glance,
And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance.

Dance....I hope you dance.

Time is a wheel in constant motion always rolling us along,
Tell me who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone?

When you get the chance, …Dance!”

Love, Pop Pop

YADA-YADA-YADA - REVISTED

My last post, about the shooting in Arizona, got an incredible response!

Some of you thought enough of it to forward it to your email list.

Most shared my sorrow & feeling of helplessness.

Thanks for all your comments.

There was some negative views but that was to be expected on such an

emotional subject.

To that end I would like to clarify what I was trying to say.

At no time did I want to imply that I was an advocate of gun banishment,

only a restriction on semi-automatic weapons & the size of the magazine.

I thought I made that point in the repeated question of thirty one shots.

But if I gave any other impression it was due to my writing shortcomings.

As for motivation, I had only one.

As a father & a grandfather, I was overwhelmed by the shootings of the last few years. If you send your children to high school or college, it is unthinkable to imagine they won’t ever come home.

If your nine year old granddaughter goes to a mall on a sunny, Saturday morning, you don’t expect a call from the morgue.

If that’s a “political rant” as someone said, then I am completely lost.

I’ll leave you with this:

“Whether or not there’s some measure in terms of limiting the size of the magazine that you can buy to go with semi-automatic weapons, maybe it’s appropriate to re-establish that kind of thing.”

Those words are the words of former Vice-President & hunter, Dick Cheney!

When Dick Cheney & I agree on anything, maybe there is a chance for change !

Stay Tuned

bobrusso@comcast.net

Feel free to share my blog

Yada-Yada-Yada

2011-01-12T12:54:00.005-05:00

“We create the world in which we live; if that world becomes unfit for human life,

it is because we tire of our responsibility.’ Cyril Connolly, 1938

Sixteen wounded, six dead & a Congress woman clinging to life.

Gore Vidal said that “USA” stood for the United States of Amnesia.

To prove his point, what were the names of the killers in the Columbine Massacre? How many innocent students did they kill? What year was it? Or the same questions for the Virginia Tech massacre.

As a society we are outraged, saddened & stunned for about fifteen minutes.

Then we’re back to the important stuff like Snooki & American Idol.

So let’s pull out the old bromides, “Guns don’t kill, people do.”

According to the Centers for Disease Control & Prevention,

2 people were murdered by handguns in New Zealand, 15 in Japan, 106 in Canada, 213 in Germany, and 29,569 in the United States. (But guns don’t kill) Or “I'll give you my gun when you take it from my cold, dead hands,” is a motto of the NRA popularized by Charlton Heston.

In more than thirty states you can be on a weekend pass from a mental institution & legally purchase an assault weapon with no identification.

The gunman in Tucson fired 31shots from a Glock 19 semi-automatic handgun, an assault weapon, he legally purchased.

He was about to load a second 31shot clip when he was subdued.

What hunter or home owner needs a clip holding 31shots?

How many rounds do you need to kill a deer?

How many hunters use handguns?

Time to drag out the Second Amendment “rights.”

This is by far the most misquoted Amendment in the Constitution

Amendment 2 - Right to Bear Arms. 12/15/1791.

A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.

This has been interpreted as every citizen has the right to own an Uzi!

When was the last time we need a militia to secure a free state?

In 1999 Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold murdered thirteen people & themselves & the entire country went into mourning.

In 2007, Seng-Hui Choi killed thirty two people at Virginia Tech & then took his own life. (One of his weapons was a Glock 19)

The entire nation went into mourning.

And in January 2011, Jared Lee Loughner, (try to remember that name) fired 31 shots in a shopping center killing six & wounding sixteen and the entire nation went into mourning.

Starting to notice a pattern here?

So the wail for stricter gun laws will begin & politicians will give speeches & Yada, Yada, Yada.

While the nation is weeping & gnashing their teeth the fat cat NRA lobbyists are in Washington lighting cigars & noting that this will “all blow over” in three weeks.

And you know what, they’re right.

NOTHING will change. Absolutely nothing.

Here is an email that is being circulated on the Internet.

I have received it a number of times.

For too long we have been too complacent about the workings of Congress.
Many citizens had no idea that members of Congress could retire with the same pay after only one term, that they specifically exempted themselves from many of the laws they have passed (such as being exempt from any fear of prosecution for sexual harassment) while ordinary citizens must live under those laws. The latest was to exempt themselves from the Healthcare Reform ... in all of its forms.

Somehow, that doesn't seem logical. We do not have an elite that is above the law. I truly don't care if they are Democrat, Republican, Independent or whatever. The self-serving must stop.
The 26th amendment (granting the right to vote for 18 year-olds) took only3 months & 8 days to be ratified! Why?
Simple! The people demanded it. That was in 1971...before computers, before e-mail, before cell phones, etc.
Of the 27 amendments to the Constitution, seven (7) took 1 year or less to become the law of the land...all because of public pressure.

I'm asking each addressee to forward this Email to a minimum of twenty people on their Address list; in turn ask each of those to do likewise.
In three days, most people in The United States of America will have the message. This is one proposal that really should be passed around.
Proposed 28th Amendment to the United States Constitution:
"Congress shall make no law that applies to the citizens of the United States that does not apply equally to the Senators and/or Representatives; and, Congress shall make no law that applies to the Senators and/or Representatives that does not apply equally to the citizens of the United States .”

How on earth can we expect our representatives to pass laws that would in essence strip their “phony baloney” jobs from every perk?

They keep proving that common sense is not very common, why would this be the exception?

More & more I realize that the people of America are “Brer Rabbit” & Congress is the “Tar Baby”

So we’ll light our candles & leave flowers & teddy bears at the latest shrine.

Then 7.34 million of us will watch “Jersey Shore” & scream if “As The World turns,” is interrupted one more time by that shooting of that lady in Colorado or New Mexico or wherever the hell it happened!

The solution isn’t the arrest of every loony bin that’s mumbling in class or walking through the mall grunting.

If that’s the case, we are going to need a bigger boat.

The answer is the GUNS stupid!

More people in this country were killed by hand guns, in a twenty year period (651,697) then were killed in all the wars since the Revolutionary War. (650,858)

Not only are we a nation of “sheepeople,” we have truly become a nation of morons!

Stay Tuned
bobrusso@comcast.com

Feel free to share my blog