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Showing posts from July, 2010

What's Up With That, Doc?

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So many celebrities are turning 70 this year. The list includes Tom Jones, Don Imus, Chuck Norris, Herbie Hancock, Alex Trebek, and, yes, Ringo Starr. But the biggest name on the list is Bugs Bunny. I’m a lifelong Looney Tunes fan—Bugs, Daffy Duck, Porky Pig—I love the whole crew. I worked an eveing shift when I was a reporter at the Pocono Record. Since I leave nearby, I often went home for dinner where I could relax for a little while and watch the cartoons at 6pm instead of the nightly news. TNT used to run their cartoon program in the morning and the evening. They had a great commercial for the show that appealed to the child in all adults. The spot featured a series of rapidly edited scenes of various Warner Brothers characters pounding the beejesus out of each other while a driving drum beat kept time with the mayhem. “On twice a day,” the announcer intoned, “because you need it now more than ever!” Truer words were never said. Recently I was thinking of a Bugs Bunny short called

Visiting Day

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There’s nothing like visiting a cemetery to remind you that life is fleeting. Everywhere you look there are memorials to people who were once living and breathing just like you and me. My sister and I visited our parents’ grave on Saturday, one day after the eighth anniversary of my mother’s death. It was brutally hot, just like the day we buried her. I remember riding in the limousine that day and watching people on the street in shorts and t-shirts walking around as if it were any other day. And for them, of course, it was. Now eight years have passed. It sounds strange, but I never thought I'd be in this situation. Obviously, nobody lives forever--that's why we have cemeteries. But the thought of my mother and father being gone from this world was something I could never accept. I thought we’d be the only ones there on this bright summer day, but a man and his son showed up a short time after we got there and went to a nearby plot. The son, who appeared to be his twenties, t

Back in the Ring

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I went to check out something new today and wound up going back in time. The Sadam Ali Boxing & Fitness Center opened its doors at 68th Street and 5th in Bay Ridge, right near the Alpine Theater at the site of what was at one time Nielson’s Furniture Store. I can’t remember what went on at that location in the more recent past and that’s making me a little nervous. Oh, my poor old brain cells... Anyway, I have an interest in boxing, as I've been taking the boxing classes at the New York Sports Club for close to 10 years now. The instructors are great and you accomplish so much in just under an hour. You work with other people—as opposed to cranking away on a stationary bike by yourself—and you get to go nuts on the heavy bags. After a hard day at the office, hitting something is the best kind of therapy around. It would take a lot to get me away from the NYSC crowd, but I confess I like the idea of a boxing gym right around the corner from my house. If nothing else,

Pony Express

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Over the years, I've grown to expect that every important lesson in life must be spawned by a huge event. You know—the burning bush, the parting of the Red Sea, the Great Flood—I have this tendency to believe that any occurrence that doesn’t resemble a scene from a Cecil B. DeMille picture probably isn’t worth a second look. Maybe it's a result of growing up Catholic. Fortunately, life has a way of reminding me how wrong this kind of thinking can be. In one weekend I received two important lessons that came out of seemingly trivial episodes. The first one happened at the recent Senator Street block party. I have to say that I had a blast at this thing. We had great weather, I met people who had been living on my street for years for the very first time, and I got a chance to stuff myself with all the food I know I should avoid, like hot dogs, hamburgers, sausage and pepper sandwiches, and eggplant parmigiana. There were plenty of attractions, including a pony ride for the kids.