New York and the Police

I can't believe I'm saying this, but for the first time in my life I actually agree with a union.

The recent edict by the mayor of New York has decided that as a result of the death of a person resisting arrest, the police will have to undergo retraining.  Naturally, the police union has rejected this idea.  Hmm, retraining sounds like something out of 1984.  I wonder what this retraining will mean.

Will the police have to approach a suspect and say, "Mr/Ms suspect, I'd like to invite you to accompany me to the local precinct to have your picture taken, your fingerprints taken and fill out some paperwork."

The better solution to the recent deaths of suspects who were resisting arrest would be to have this retraining of all the residents of a locality, city, state or even the country.  This retraining would emphasize treating the police officer with respect, treating the law with respect and treating your neighbors with respect and when you are approached by the police not resisting arrest.

All of this respect has been missing from the recent protests around the country.  We've seen bottles and rocks thrown at police officers, laws broken and neighbors' businesses destroyed, looted (stolen from) and burned to the ground.  I know this sounds very naïve, but if everyone respected the police, our laws and neighbors, the majority of our problems would be solved.

Getting back to NYC, there are times when I'm sorry that I left, but this new mayor DiBlasio has taken away those regrets.

THANKSGIVING MEMORIES

I just finished watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving and Charlie Brown's story of the Pilgrims on the Mayflower.

They brought back so many memories.  When my boys were young, that was required watching.  On Thanksgiving, we would probably stay home and I would make dinner for us and my mother.

On Friday, there would usually be a marathon on the TV - either Godzilla, Twilight Zone or The Honeymooners.

The day or weekend was very similar to Thanksgivings of my childhood, with a few changes.  All the children on our block, and I guess the neighborhood, would get dressed in our oldest, worst looking clothes and visit all the neighbors asking, "Anything for Thanksgiving?"  We would get some pennies, fruit or even some nuts.  Sometimes, we would even dirty our faces with burnt cork to look even worse.  Then we would come home and count our "loot".  That was so much fun.  I don't think anyone out of our neighborhood ever heard of that practice and I don't know how it started.

The day after Thanksgiving back then was a little different then.  There was no "Black Friday", we stayed home and sometimes, we would bend the rules a little on meatless Fridays.  My parents would let my brother and me stay up past midnight, making it Saturday.  We would then have a turkey sandwich.  If I was able to make it to midnight, it tasted sooo good.

Then, sometime that weekend we would have to restock the pantry and refrigerator.  My father always made the first eggnog purchase of the season.  Of course, he would also buy some prepackaged pfefferneuse.  That is still my tradition.  Even though I sometimes see it in the stores early in November, I simply cannot make my first purchase of eggnog until after Thanksgiving.  The pferrerneuse has changed.  Now, I bake my own and I must say it is better than the prepackaged cookies of my youth.

I still celebrate the day with family, only this time, I'm part of the older generation.  My niece invites me to her home which is usually filled with her mother, sisters, brother and their children.  It makes for a wonderful day.

I hope you have a very Happy Thanksgiving and make some wonderful memories.

Gruber

I really can't understand all the fuss about this character Gruber who said, on many occasions, that the American people are too stupid to understand Obamacare.  He's right.  After all, the majority of the  American people did vote for Obama TWICE.  (My apologies to my friends.)

The only people who questioned the proposed bill, and are still questioning the law, are the "wacky" tea partiers and republicans.

If the results weren't so sad - raised premium rates, dropped services, dropped policies, being forced to pay for services that are not needed, the tea partiers could have the last laugh.

IN WAR AND PEACE THEY SERVE

 

            I recently took a short trip to Arlington, VA to visit Mt. Vernon.  On my last day there, I discovered that I had a flat tire.  I called for emergency road service and was told that it would take about 45 minutes.  While I was waiting in my hotel lobby for their arrival, I noticed a young man also just sitting there.  After 45 minutes, I called again and was told it would be another 25 minutes.  This young man asked what I was waiting for and I told him.  He offered to change my tire, but I said road service would be there soon.

            Shortly after that, he disappeared.  When he came back, he had work gloves and said, “Where is your car?  I’ll change the tire.”  We walked to the car together.  While he was working, road service called to say they were on the way.  I told them not to bother as I had found a “Good Samaritan.”

            When he was finished, I thanked him profusely and we started talking.  He told me he was retired military (which I had figured out by his demeanor) and had served two tours in Iraq.  His father was also military.  I said that I thought it was a corny thing to say, but I thanked him for his service.  He didn’t think it corny at all and appreciated my saying it.

            I realize now that it’s not corny, but simply saying “Thank You” doesn’t seem like enough.  Our service men and women put their lives on hold for at least two years, some put their lives on the line, some don’t survive. 

            As we were returning to our respective rooms, he THANKED ME for being so appreciative of his help.  I couldn’t believe it.  He deserved all the thanks, not just for the tire, but for all the years he spent serving our country and us. 

            I never got the name of my Good Samaritan, so to all veterans, I can only say “Thank you.”  It doesn’t seem like enough, but it is sincere.

 

 

 

 

Age Differences

Today was my usual day at the desk in the clubhouse.

While I was signing a couple up for an event, the gentleman commented that my handwriting was so nice.  When I take my time, it is quite good.  I thanked him and said that it was the result of 12 years of Catholic school.  They laughed and his wife said that she also had 12 years of Catholic school, but she didn't write as well.

We got to talking and she mentioned that she went to school in Brooklyn.  I said that I did also, even though I lived in Queens.  She also came from Queens, Ozone Park in particular.  Since I came from Woodhaven which is just the other side of Atlantic Ave. we compared notes on which schools we attended.  She attended St. Sylvester which I also attended.

I told her that I graduated in 1953 - there the similarities ended.  She was born in 1953.  I suddenly felt so old.  But this evening I realized that I'm only 13 years older than she and when you're a senior citizen, I guess that's not so great a difference, and we both do live in a 55+ community.

Age is just a number, isn't it?

Burnie Here

Hi there, it's me Burnie.  Sorry I haven't written in a while, but mom went on another of her geographical explorations for weeks and weeks and turned the computer off.  I'm sure she'll write about it soon.

I missed her, but not too much.  Her friend, and mine, Jeanne came every day and fed Crash and me.  Crash wasn't too friendly, but I was.  I got lots of pets and Jeanne combed me every day.  I like it when she takes care of us.  I wasn't too mad at mom, I didn't even limp too much, but Crash got even.  On mom's first night home, Crash got on mom's pillow and meowed right into her ear.  That really woke mom up.  I think it was about 1:00 am.  That'll show her.

She was very nice to us all week, until she found me sitting on the scale.  She saw that I weigh 20 pounds.  I guess that makes me a Fat Cat.  Now, we don't get our afternoon snack any more.

Last night, mom started being extra nice to us, giving us lots of pets and hugs.  I thought that mom was feeling guilty for leaving us for so long, but Crash told me that mom found out that Fuzzy, a dog who lives on a farm in Colorado with Boomer and writes a blog on Fridays, died.  Mom was very upset, so she gave us lots of extra attention.  I'm sorry that Boomer lost his friend, but I like the extra attention mom gives us.

Now if only we could get our afternoon snack back.

Newer = Better

Not always.

I've been baking for over 50 years and have now developed a reputation in my community for  being a terrific baker.  Almost everything I make is from scratch although I do occasionally use a mix.

Today, I was baking some cookies for our Arts & Crafts Fair tomorrow.  My preferred cookie recipe uses a cookie press.  Several years ago I retired my old aluminum cookie press where you turn a knob to push the dough through the template onto the cookie sheet.  I decided to come into the 20th century and bought a new cookie press, one that uses a trigger to push the dough onto the cookie sheet.  After only one or two uses, it broke.  So I bought another, more expensive one thinking that the old one broke because it was cheap.  I usually make this type of cookie once or twice a year.

Well, today I was in the middle of baking my cookies and getting ready to refill the press.  I unscrewed the pusher (very technical term) and it came right out of the press.  Naturally, I couldn't find any of the pieces.

Fortunately, I NEVER throw anything out.  I went into the garage and found my original cookie press to finish the job.  Guess I'll forget about replacing the "new" press and go back to the old, stone-age aluminum one, the same type that my mother used.

Speaking of my mother, several years ago she noticed that I lived by my timer when baking anything.  She was quite surprised and said that she knew when a cake was done when she could smell it.  Of course, I scoffed at that idea, but decided to try it.  Surprise!  It works.  As soon as I smell a cake, I check it out and it is done.  Who knew mothers could be so smart.