Love Never Dies

"Life is a series of meetings and partings." A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

My uncle, Master Sargeant and Green Beret, Jack C. Flynn, "went home" last Thursday, Sept 24th. He loved and visited the family on Long Island whenever he could. He loved standing waist deep in the waters of the Great South Bay off Sayville or Blue Point, or Shelter Island, with a peck (small) basket buoyed by kiddie tube while he dug clams with his feet. He loved boating and fishing. He was a favorite uncle with easy going, carefree ways. When he was a kid, my grandmother took him to see a psychiatrist because he would put his clothes on inside out or backwards. Once he grabbed the wrong paper bag from the kitchen table and ate six plain Kaiser roles for lunch because it never occurred to him that he grabbed the bakery bag and not his lunch bag. The psychiatrist told his mother, "This boy is fine. He doesn't have a nerve in his body. Nothing bothers him, he'll outlive us all."

So the boy without a nerve in his body went on to become one of the small heroes in the Viet Nam War, there are so many. He was a combat Medic with the 82nd Airborne Division. A combat tour in Viet Nam lasted one year, if you survived, you went home. Jack is the only Viet Vet I know who voluntarily did a second tour in Nam. He was decorated many times, but his favorite accomplishment was written up in the Daily News when he organized the first Boy Scout Troop in Viet Nam. He said there were many half American children who had been rejected by their families and were beggers in the streets, he wanted to do something for them. With the help of a local Catholic Mission, he organized a Boy Scout Troop, and with some other soldiers, taught the boys how to help each other as a group in order to survive.

His highest decoration was won when he was in a Huey gunship, They spotted a troop of Viet Cong escorting six captured Americans through a rice paddy. The prisoners hands were in bound in front of them and they were all tied closely together with a rope from one waist to the next to make it nearly impossible to escape; two men tied together might have a chance at a run, but not six. The gunship lowered over the men, and the VC ran for cover where they could turn and fire at the gunship. Jack jumped out. He always carried a small axe. He said it came in handy many times. One this day, as they pulled in one man, the rope between he and the next man would pull tight over the landing rail on the helicopter and Jack hacked off the rope in one chop. One by one, with bullets flying, they got five of the men in. At that point, someone spotted a shouldered bazooka pointing at the ship. One well landed grenade would disable the helicopter. Jack looped his arm through the still tied hands of the last man and grabbed onto the landing rail with both of his hands and one leg. The Huey lifted with the last man looped around Jack's arm. Two soldiers inside leaned out and reinforced Jack's hold on the rail. In two minutes they cleared the immediate danger enough to land for a minute and get Jack and the last man safely inside. Jack had been grazed by three bullets. His shoulder had been dislocated from the weight of the soldier, but they all made it back. He only told that story to us once, and I never heard him ever speak of his combat experiences again.

During his second tour, he served with his cousin, Maj. Neil Sheehan, an RN. Officer and enlisted men aren't supposed to socialize, but it was useless trying to keep them apart despite the efforts of one of the commanding officers, a Lt. Colonel, on their post. Uncle Neilly told us that one time Jack and he were driving off base to Saigon for a three day leave. Jack was driving when the LTC saw them at the gate. He ordered the jeep stopped and Jack dutifully got out and stood at attention. The LTC was a "Point Man" (West Point Grad) and a stickler for formality. The LTC saw that the back of the jeep was lined with two Army blankets and a third blanket had been folded into a pillow. The LTC asked, "What's the hell is this?" Jack responded, "Mobile sleeping quarters for Maj. Sheehan, sir." To which the LTC yelled back, "You think the back of jeep is appropriate sleeping quarters for an officer?" Uncle Neilly said he was already trying not to laugh, when Jackie said, "No, sir. I'll fix it right now." Then, he reached into Neil's knapsack, pulled out a bottle of good whiskey - that Neil had been saving for leave, placed it gently next to the makeshift pillow, turned back to the LTC and said, "I think Maj Sheehan will validate this as appropriate now, sir." To which the LTC replied, "You're killin' me Flynn, your fuckin' killin' me," and dismissed them. The story ends that Maj. Sheehan returned to base in his mobile sleeping quarters driven by Staff Sgt. Flynn all safe and sound, the whiskey however, became another casualty of war.

He will be buried with honors near his beloved Fort Bragg, home of the 82nd Airborne. The bad news is we'll miss him terribly. The good news is, he's back with his parents, Audrey and Ervin Flynn. But the really bad news is "Big Erv" is probably still mad at him for never fixing the hood latch on his car when he was seventeen, and every time Pop drove the car over the nearby railroad tracks, the hood flew up forcing Pop to open the door and lean half his body out to find a place to pull over. The stream of profanities that issued forth from his mouth are probably still hanging in the air where the railroad tracks cross Lincoln Ave in Sayville, New York.

Pidgeon Is Faster Than Internet In Some Places

Pigeon transfers data faster than South Africa's Telkom Thu Sep 10, 5:05 pm ET
JOHANNESBURG (Reuters) – A South African information technology company on Wednesday proved it was faster for them to transmit data with a carrier pigeon than to send it using Telkom , the country's leading internet service provider.
Internet speed and connectivity in Africa's largest economy are poor because of a bandwidth shortage... Local news agency SAPA reported the 11-month-old pigeon, Winston, took one hour and eight minutes to fly the 50 miles from Unlimited IT's offices near Pietermaritzburg to the coastal city of Durban with a data card was strapped to his leg. Including downloading, the transfer took two hours, six minutes and 57 seconds -- the time it took for only four percent of the data to be transferred using a Telkom line. Unlimited IT performed the stunt after becoming frustrated with slow internet transmission times. ...Telkom could not immediately be reached for comment.

Is it time for me to go a little greener and pioneer a new way to blend old and new technology? I write from anywhere I happen to be. Sometimes I can’t always get the internet connection I need to send in reports. I could start a whole new trend and maybe others would follow, it would be very Al Gore of me to try anyway...

At an event on a Long Island Beach:
“Who's the big lady with the laptop and the pigeon cage?”
“Oh, that’s Ms Flynn. She writes for newspapers you know.”
“Is she donating the bird? Is it a sacrifice? She's not going to put on a hibachi and eat it is she?”
“Ms F. can’t always get her wireless internet to transmit her articles from her laptop out here in the wild. She writes things right out here in the field you know. She loves to rough it, a real pioneer. So now she brings one of her Flynn's Flyer’s with her to these events. The pigeons have a little suitcase velcroed to one ankle. Ms F. puts in her memory card and releases the bird. Her office gets the bird in five to eight minutes. She has two birds she likes to use, Paddy and Delilah. I think she brought Delilah today. We’ll know if he gives her Perrier water in her little cup, she’s a Hampton born pidgeon, she only drinks Perrier.”
“You’re kidding me.... and what does Paddy drink?”
“Well, that's the problem. Birds love alcohol and Paddy is a pigeon raised by someone in Ms. Flynn's own family. She just found out that Paddy has a bit of a drinking problem. Paddy got a sip from somebody's screwdriver at the last event and delivered Ms. F.’s card to Al Gore’s house. Fortunately, Al is trying out this green transfer concept and sent a new bird to her office. Then he got Paddy into a new little aviary rehab, The Pickled Pigeon in the Hamptons. It’s very private. Decorated the gayest available decorators. It has a nice park and statue theme, very tasteful, and no cat statues.”
“Yeah, I can see where that would mess with a bird’s brain.”
“Definitely, you don’t want to have the DT’s around images of things that can eat you.”
“So where do you buy these birds?”
“East Hampton store, Feathers Go Farther; Giving You the Bird From Manhattan to Montauk.”

Ring Right Through Your Nosey

Aug 20, 2009 WELLINGTON (Reuters) – A New Zealand man has been dubbed the Lord of the Ring after he searched and found his wedding ring more than a year after it slipped off his finger and sank to the sea floor. The ring was lost for 16 months in the harbor of the country's capital city, Wellington, before Aleki Taumoepeau found it shining on the sea floor, the Dominion Post newspaper reported Thursday. Taumoepeau, an ecologist, said... he lost the wedding ring while conducting an environmental sweep of the harbor. He roughly marked the spot where the ring had flown from his finger, but was unable to find it despite returning to the area many times....pledging to find the ring (and)..equipped with new global satellite based coordinates and offering up a quick prayer, he found the ring after an hour's search.

In a bar on the east coast:

“Joe, did you read about this guy who says he lost his wedding ring in the water and then found it again using g.p.s. and a prayer?”
“Yeah, what a crock. You know how many guys have tried using that story - losing their wedding ring in the water? “Honest hunny, I lost it when I was clammin’”, or “it got caught in a fish’s mouth when I was trying to get the hook out.” But I give the guy credit for originality - adding the g.p.s. locater concept, nice detail. Oh yeah, and the prayer, g.p.s. and a prayer.”
“Like he had one.”
“Not a prayer of finding a ring once it goes in the water, unless you happen to be sitting underwater with scuba and a net just looking up and seeing if anything happens to drop in.”
“So how do you think he found the ring, Joe?”
“He didn’t find that ring. He did what any intelligent cheating slob would do, he bought a new ring.”
“A new ring - geez, I never thought of that.”
“That’s why when you get married, you can get her a fancy ring, but you gotta stay with the plain band, very important. That way, if you lose that ring anytime for any reason, you can replace it before she knows it’s gone if you have to.”
“Did you ever lose your ring that year you were cheating on Carol?”
“Nope. I never took it off. I just bought a set of golf clubs and told Carol I was taking up golf.”
“You lost me, Joe. How does golf cover cheating on your wife?”
“Simple. I’d pick up my girlfriend at lunchtime and later, just before I left for home, I’d go outside, run her outside hose to make a puddle in the grass, then I’d jump around in the puddle and get grass bits all splashed up on my pants. Then I’d go home and Carol would yell at me as soon as I got in the door, “Where you been all afternoon? I called work twice, they said you never came back from lunch.” And then I’d tell her the truth.”
“The truth? Joe, man, there’s no way you told her the truth.”
“Everytime, I swear. I said, “Carol, you know what I did? I left at lunch time, picked up my girlfriend, we went to her house and we made mad passionate love all afternoon. How do you like that?” And she’d say, “Don’t lie to me you son of a bitch! Look at your pants! You blew off work to go golfing again!”
“Whoa.....great cover Joe. Beats the hell outta g.p.s. and a prayer.”
“Thank you, I thought it was rather creative if I do say so myself.”

Justifiable Homocide

You have to ask youself, "Do I feel lucky today?"

I caught the tail end of "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?" the other night. The young male attorney, married with a baby, had just answered this question: "Whose death was reported on the front page the first day of publication of USA Today?" The potential answers were one of the following actresses: Greta Garbo, Audrey Hepburn, Grace Kelly, and Ida Lupino. The contestant took a guest and was right, it was Grace Kelly and he won $500,000. Let me be clear, he won one half of a million dollars guaranteed. He was asked if he'd like to answer to next question for one million dollars, or leave now with the paltry sum of $500,000. His wife shook her head violently in the negative from the gallery. But, nooooooooo, he was feeling lucky...

The Million dollar question was: "President Lyndon Johnson had four buttons installed on his desk to summon drinks he wanted. Three of the buttons were: coffee, tea, coke. What was the fourth button? Potential answers: Fresca, Yoo-Hoo, A&W Root Beer, and V-8. There's no way to logically deduce this, you would know it or not. I guessed A&W. The right answer was Fresca.

What do you think that car ride home was like?

I'm betting not a word was said. I bet his wife won't even be ready to talk to him till next May at the earliest. Sex isn't gonna happen for ten years at least. She has to go through the five stages of grief after the death of all her dreams.

The first stage is denial. She has to deny she married a moron who had a half a mil in his hands and tossed it for a 25% chance of winning a whole million. Because only a moron would realize that along with the 25% chance of winning a million was a 75% chance of winning bupkus, nada, nothing.

The second stage is anger. I tried very hard to imagine the amount of anger I would feel. I can only say that I have a stupidity limit, past which homocide or exile, are justified. I would calmly go to a boat supply store and purchase a new graphite fishing rod and a boat buoy. Returning home, I'd walk up behind him in his lounger and proceed to to alternatively whip him with the rod and beat him with the bouy. If he had me arrested for assault, it wouldn't do any good because if he stood before a female judge, once she heard the story, it would take half a police force to pull the judge off of him because she'd be finishing the job with her gavel. If he stood before a male judge, he'd only be granted a restraining order against his wife, and every other woman in the country who would beat him in a show of solidarity and as an example to the other men not to even think of being what I call "Black Hole stupid". This is when a man is so inexplicably dense that light bends around him.

The third stage is bargaining. She has to think of what redeeming qualities her moron has that compensate for his little lapses in judgment here and there. Maybe he doesn't complain when asked to take out the garbage. Maybe he puts his dirty socks in the laundry. Maybe he doesn't make a face when she asks him to lift his legs while she vacuums - which she would have a maid to do if he had bothered to research favorite drinks of US Presidents during the 60's before betting half a million on the infinite knowledge in his brain. But lets not go there, because there's no way back.

The fourth stage is depression. His wife will be depressed for a very long time. But she'll only think of his mistake whenever she writes the mortgage check, or has to budget groceries, or wants a new blouse, or calls a plumber or electrician for any repairs, or has any medical expenses, or has thoughts of affording a higher education for her children, or any number or those little thoughts that creep into our consciousness from time to time.

The fifth stage is acceptance. In about twenty years, she'll stop thinking about what could have been; a house, a new car, education, a boat, new underwear once a year, those small things that make life a little easier. She'll take what little money she can scrounge up and find a divorce attorney. Her two criteria for hire will be 1. Are you a licensed attorney? and 2. How do you feel about Fresca?

Big Game Hunter

I got a lot of fun feedback on the article I wrote about the fights that break out while playing Monopoly. Apparently my family is not alone in its inability to play a game peacefully. Here's some other complaints people have. The names are withheld to prevent violence and grudge keeping.

Chess: The biggest complaint seems to be that people take too much time to make a move. Everyone wants to appear to be a brilliant strategist, but there is no true correlation between how long it takes you to make a move and how brilliant you are. It seems that half the people who play chess know this and half don't and somehow one person from each side of this divide manages to pair up every time to play chess, creating a miserable evening for both. Drinking while playing this game makes things worse. One Islander told me that his brother, who thought thinkin' and drinkin' went together, got so angry when he lost that he lined up all the chess pieces on a rail and shot them all with a BB gun, well, he missed most actually, but it's the thought that counts. Perhaps Chess is best off when it's used as a designer piece, like on a movie set. You know, you buy an expensive Chess set and set it up so everyone can see it, and just for a special effect, you move one piece...

Life: The game of Life is fun. You sit in a little car and fill it with pegs as you go through life's passages. Everyone seems to like this game, in part because you can share all your personal experiences as you go. When you hit 'marriage' it costs you nearly nothing to get married. But when you hit 'divorce', it costs you a small fortune and you can end up in the 'poor house', just like real life. I think it's a kick that the game has gone high tech and done away with paper money, you get a reloadable debit card for money now.

Yahtzee: Poker with dice. Simple and still a favorite game by all reports. Can be played drunk or sober by all reports. Simple math, such as adding the totals on the dice required. Complex math, such as adding all the totals in all the columns to find out who won required. Multiple math, such as having more than one player add the totals because you cant trust the first person also required. Not recommended for those who imbibe in herbal cigarettes because there seems to be a lot of trouble adding even the dice totals and no one can remember if they're taking turns by going to the right or left.

Parcheesi: An old favorite of mine and really fun if you play by the rules inside the top of the box. Game strategy is important, so play sober and no one will get hurt.

Go: The ancient Japanese game that I think all strategy games are based on. A simple painted grid on a wooden board and two bowls of black and white round pieces, minutes to learn, forever to master. Not too popular in the US except for the a group of enthusiasts like me. I agree with one man who says the problem is the pieces slide on the board too easily. One bump and they all slide all over. I never saw that as a problem, it was my way of getting out of losing game. One accidentally well placed knock from my knee and I was spared humiliation.

Othello: A very popular small variation of Go. Othello is easy to learn, lots of fun, can be played sober, drunk or high since the question of who's winning is apparent all the time, either there are more black pieces showing or more white. No need to worry about whose turn it is since it's a two person game. Even a very high person, by process of elimination, can deduce whose turn it is next. Bonus; if the loser gets mad and tosses the game, the pieces are the size of quarter and very easy to find not that that has ever happened of course.

Cards: I never met a card game I didn't like. Card games are still very popular; mostly variations of Poker, and many enjoy Spades and Hearts. I didn't hear anyone talk about Bridge or Canasta or any of the more complicated games. Cards are still best for game with company and playing on a boat. I always wished I could master one of those fancy impressive shuffle. I'm a hacksaw shuffler. I just slush them together until someone makes a comment about how long it's taking me to shuffle. One thing to remember, if you lose a few cards and replace them with cards from another partial deck, check the backs to make sure the designs are the same. I had three blue Bicycle brand cards mixed in with a pack of red Bicycle cards and it didn't seem to take long for everyone to memorize what three cards those were, putting players at a distinct advantage or disadvantage depending on the deal. But hey... it's just a game.

Get Out Of Jail Free

" Assc Press Thu Jul 30, 9:04 pm ET
FRASER, Mich. – A game of Monopoly has landed a Michigan man in jail. WDIV-TV reported a 54-year-old man was playing the board game Saturday night with a female friend when he tried to buy Park Place and Boardwalk from her. When she refused, Fraser police Lt. Dan Kolke told WWJ-AM he hit her in the head, breaking her glasses. The man was arrested and charged with misdemeanor assault and battery."

The poet Maya Angelou said, "You can tell a lot about a person by the way they handle three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights." I would like to add to this list; waiting in lines, getting the wrong order from a fast food place, and playing board games - in particular playing Monopoly.

Monopoly is a board game patented by Charles Darrow in 1935 and published by Parker Brothers. The game is named after the economic concept of monopoly, the domination of a market by a single entity. He modeled the game after the market crash in 1929 which brought on the Great Depression. Monopoly is the most commercially-successful board game in United States history, with 485 million players worldwide.

Frankly, I can't understand why the police would arrest someone for assault as a result of playing Monopoly. Anyone who has ever played the game by it's real rules knows that all players risk being assaulted or being the assaulter with every nerve grating turn trying to get past Park Place and Boardwalk and make it to Go / Payday. Especially if someone has managed to get a few houses on the one of those spots or worst of all, if they've gotten a hotel on Boardwalk. No one who lands on Boardwalk with a hotel gets out alive. It usually means the financial ruin and ultimate downfall of the player who has landed there. The ruined person usually throws their top hat, shoe, or car, at the s.o.b. who owns Boardwalk and then throws what few white ones and pink fives they have left, into the face of the bloodletting, money hungry Scrooge who has forced them out of the game. Naturally there are fights, assaults, and homocides, associated with Monopoly.

Some people make the argument that forcing other players out by creating Monopoly empires is the whole point of the game, that the last player with the most money wins. These are the people who want to play by the actual rules printed on the inside of the cover of the box. These are the people who, as long as they are winning, say, "It's just a game, why are you getting all upset?" But, if they are losing, they scream, "You're cheating! That's not the way the game is played, give me the rules, I'll show you!" Then they re-interpret the rules to their advantage. That's right, Republicans.

When my family plays Monopoly, we add a few rules. 1. If you run out of Monopoly money, you can use real money. No joke, we have all used real ones, fives, tens and twenties till we got to Paypay to get our Monopoly $200. 2. Personal loans are allowed. The Republicans in the game vehemently object to this concept, but only until THEY need a loan.
3. The rules say if you land in Jail you have to stay there for three turns or pay $50 to get out. We allow prorating. You can serve a one or two turn sentence and pay $18 per day if you're short on cash, or you can take a personal loan from another player. If you're the poorest player in the game and you land in jail, you can get out after a one turn sentence and a one dollar fine under our Early Release Program for the underprivileged. 4. We take a Sharpie marker and change one of the Beauty Contest Opportunity Knocks cards into a Get Over Boardwalk or Park Place Free card.

When my family plays the game, no one is forced out. Which is nice, but then the game never ends. Usually after about three hours we just all agree to stop, because some of us have other things to do in our lives, or the beer and pizza is all gone. The person with the most in money and assets wins. Any gloating by the winner will definitely end in assault, a real assault, not just the normal pinching and slapping and threatening that occurs naturally during the course of the game, but a real, bounce beer bottles off the winners head, assault.

When a journalist friend of mine left for a new position, I gave her a wallet with a genuine Monopoly "Get Out Of Jail Free" card in it. Why? Because she's a journalist and in case she ever got in trouble and held in contempt for refusing to reveal her sources, I wanted her to know she had something to fall back on.

It's pretty clear to me that the officer who arrested that man for a Monopoly assault either has never played the game, or is a Republican who never won the game.

Your Place, or Twine?

I thought the coverage of Michael Jackson's death would never leave the airwaves! But the next most important event has already taken over. As I'm sure many of you have seen in the papers and on all the news, my birthday is coming on July 31st. I share my birthday with Jackie Kennedy and Mae West. Three great women on one day. I've asked everyone not to overspend on me this year. It is not necessary to mortgage your house to buy me a gift when selling your vehicle will suffice. I'm short on ruby jewelry, I need a villa in Tuscany, and a boat.

This next birthday is a big one. The kind that makes you wonder where the hell has all the time gone? Days are long, but years are short. It also makes me reflect on what, if any, wisdom have I attained? What pearls can I impart to the younger people? I had to think a very long time, but I came up with a list, some of them are my own thoughts and some are borrowed.

1. "Don't run with scissors." I received this advice from my Kindergarten teacher, Miss Ross, and it has applied throughout my life. Don't run with scissors. I also found, "Don't Poke Other People With Your Fork" and "Don't Pop Your Lunch Bag" to be useful during my youth.
2. "Life is a series of meetings and partings. " (A Christmas Carol). How true this is. The Greeks said, "When man plans tomorrow, the gods laugh." The next person you meet, the phone call you get, can change your life. Be flexible, be prepared. Be ready to help someone, be ready to have a good time, be ready to sit with a sick or grieving friend. Half of life is just showing up.
3. "Sometimes it's time to leave, even if there's nowhere to go." (Oscar Wilde). Leave when it's time for you to go. Sometimes you have to leave a person, sometimes a place, sometimes a job. You always have that funny feeling when it's time to go and if you ignore it, it usually ends badly and you regret not having followed your intuition. You should only ignore your intuition if you're sure you're going to get something really nice, like a house, or a lot of money. For that, you can put up with any odious person or situation until you get the payoff and then you can afford therapy in your lovely new surroundings in case you have any guilt feelings.
4. A man with a boat is worth two men with trucks. A man with a house is worth two men with boats. A man with a house on Ram Island is worth hiring the men with trucks and boats to set up a blackmail scenario where the only solution is to marry you without a pre-nup.
5. There is no such thing as "enough jewelry." If a man says that to you, ask him if he has "enough tools."
6. The natural look is for women who can't handle their cosmetics.
7. Don't go overboard with hairdye. There comes a time in life when your gray is conspicuous by its absence. My mother, who is older than me, still dyes her hair dark brown. I did an experiment this year and let my hair grow in naturally. I admit it is a frightening sight. But since I stopped dying it, it has gotten thicker. I now bear a strong resemblance to Albert Einstein, but that will lessen as soon as I have my moustache waxed.
8. Get to the water. There is no problem I've ever had that wasn't helped by spending time looking out over the water. It clears my mind, which I admit is a small job in my case, but still, it helps you think. In addition to clearing your mind, the water can also hide the bodies of your enemies, always a handy piece of information to know.
9. Boomerang gossip via twiner. Common here on the Island. Boomerang gossip is when you say something that comes back around and hits you in the ass the next day. Twitter is the newest way to share information on the internet. On the Island, we have Twiner. Go hang out at the Dumps, the IGA parking lot or the school parking lot and all the information/news/gossip you need will roll past you like an unwinding ball of twine on a mission to ensnare, entangle and otherwise entwine fascinating tidbits of information; some will be true, some not, but twiner, like twitter, goes for speed, not accuracy.
10. Be nice. It takes as much time to be rude as to be nice, so be nice. Oh, and of course, don't run with scissors.

1969, the Best of Times, the Worst of Times...

MCMLXIX: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

1969

As July 20th, 1969, approaches, the 40th anniversary of the moon landing, I think those of us who were there are reflecting on what an incredible year of highs and lows it was. George Carlin said, "If you can remember the sixties, you weren't there." I remember rampant experimental drug use. I could get LSD in high school - yes, even on Shelter Island. I recall violent anti-war protests and civil rights protests. It seemed like you barely processed one horrific event on the news before you were hit with a new one.
Still, my memory of where I was when I saw the moon landing is crystal clear. Like when Kennedy was shot. I recall every detail. I was at my boyfriends house and everyone was glued to the television. The feeling of fear we all had. So much could go wrong. What if something happened and they couldn't get back? Were their calculations right? How deep was the moon dust? That was a big question. Was it a few inches deep or would they sink into a quicksand of grey dust? The poor quality black and white transmission was fuzzy and stark at the same time. America watched every second of this historic event, the whole world watched.
I feel privledged to be one of the people to have witness the event. But I envied my grandmothers generation. Her generation witnessed the invention of the car, airplane and telephone, and were still present to see the moon landing. She saw more "firsts" than I ever will.

I don't think any years were more jam packed with events than 1968 and 1969. We had such extremes. In '69 we had the moon landing and the Manson murders. Here's a little stroll down memory lane.

Some More Firsts:
* Golda Meir became the first female Prime Minister in Israel. * The first Boeing 747 appeared. * Monty Python's Flying Circus first airs in the United Kingdom. * Dave Thomas opens his first restaurant in a former steakhouse on a cold, snowy Saturday in downtown Columbus, Ohio. He names the chain Wendy's after his 8-year-old daughter Melinda Lou (nicknamed Wendy by her siblings). * The Stonewall riots in New York City mark the start of the modern gay rights movement in the U.S. * Sesame Street premieres on the National Educational Television (NET) network. *The first Gap store opens, in San Francisco. * Reported as being the year the first strain of the AIDS virus (HIV) migrated to the United States via Haiti.

* Richard Nixon succeeded Lyndon Johnson as the 37th President of the U.S.
* The last issue of the Saturday Evening Post, famous for it's covers by Norman Rockwell, hit the stands. It is the end of a publishing era. * Super Bowl III; NY Jets play the Baltimore Colts. * Chappaquiddick > Senator Ted Kennedy’s car accident, which took the life of Mary Jo Kopechne, ended any chance of a shot at the Presidency for him. * U.S. President Richard Nixon and South Vietnamese President Nguyen Van Thieu meet at Midway Island. Nixon announces that 25,000 U.S. troops will be withdrawn by September. * ( I love this one) The New York Times publicly takes back the ridicule of the rocket scientist Robert H. Goddard published in 13 Jan 1920 that spaceflight is impossible. * The Harvard University Administration Building is seized by close to 300 students, mostly members of the Students for a Democratic Society. Before the takeover ends, 45 will be injured and 184 arrested. * March on Washington to protest Viet Nam, estimated half a million marchers. * VP Spiro Agnew called the protesters "effete snobs". Later he resigned his office for tax evasion. * The "miracle" New York Mets win the World Series, beating the heavily favored Baltimore Orioles 4 games to 1. * Black Panther Party members Fred Hampton and Mark Clark are shot dead in their sleep during a raid by 14 Chicago police officers. * Vietnam War: The first draft lottery in the United States is held since World War II (on January 4, 1970, the New York Times will run a long article, "Statisticians Charge Draft Lottery Was Not Random"). * An army platoon is said to have raided a Vietnamese village and then allegedly following the orders of Lieutenant William Kelly shot down every villager; men, women and children. The Pentagon is investigating the matter, and Lieutenant Kelly charged with murder will go on trial in early 1970. * My Lai Massacre: Lieutenant William Calley is charged with 6 counts of premeditated murder, for the deaths of 109 Vietnamese civilians in My Lai. The death of Ho Chi Minh, the ineffectiveness of the peace talks, and the withdrawal of American troops seemed to have little effect on the war.
* 1969 was a year of airplane hijacks, most of them to Cuba. Over 50 times, planes have been diverted to a destination other than the one they started out for. *Woodstock - the defining event of my generation. *Jan 30, the Beatles perform for the last time as a group; Soon after Paul marries Linda Eastman and they form the band Wings. *John Lennon marries Yoko Ono, they later host a televised "bed-in" for peace. *Charles Manson's "family murder the eight months pregnant actress Sharon Tate and others. *Diana Ross leaves the Supremes. * Simon and Garfunkel air TV special Songs Of America, an hour-long show that is anti-war and anti-poverty featuring live footage from their 1969 tour. *1776 is a hit show on Braodway

And the next generation arrived on the heels of love beads, burned draft cards and the sound of a Green Tamborine.
Brian McKnight, Ice Cube, Marc Anthony, Sean Combs, Gwen Stefani, Bobby Brown, Jason Bateman, Jennifer Anniston, Javier Bardem, Chastity Bono, Rodney Atkins, Renee Zellweger, Cate Blanchett Tracey Gold, Steffi Graf, Josh Holloway, Jennifer Lopez, Midori Ito, Edward Norton, Christian Slater, Matthew Perry, Diane Farr, Catharine Zeta-Jones, Hal Sparks, Brett Farve, Nancy Kerrigan, Gerard Butler, Ken Griffey, Jr., , are among those born in 1969

Shell Beach, Paradise Lost

Shell Beach has re-opened after road repairs (as much as you can repair a dirt road), hallejah! Shell Beach, where many an Island teen couple has done unbelievable things in cars. Ahhhhh, the men, the memories, if only I had that flexibility now... I could be in Cirque de Soleis!

Shell Beach has an unmarked hidden access road that only locals and summer people know. Knowing the secret entrance is like knowing how to get into the Bat Cave.
"You go down here and turn between the maple trees."
"Yea, but Alice, the whole street has maple trees, how do you know where to turn?"
"I know. Like a blind person knows their kitchen, I just know..."
"Ah, you're relying on Divine Intervention."
"No, Divine Direction. It practically takes an Act of God to find the road."

For as long as I can remember, the road was half the fun of going to Shell Beach. The huge dips and hills were a stress test for the shocks on any car. It's actually the only spot on Long Island where a Hummer or Land Rover is warranted as a vehicle of choice. It was especially challenging after a rain. How deep was the puddle? Up to the rims? Up to the car handle? You never knew. Slamming up and down in the car with the seat belt cutting into your neck and hot coffee flying. What fun.

It was always interesting and often educational to search for an unoccupied spot along the road. The road is flanked with little pockets of half hidden mini-beaches that are often clothes optional. I tried sun bathing au natural once, but an Island guy in a truck pulled up and threw a big tarp over me. It wouldn't have been that insulting except for him driving the tent pegs in all around me to hold the tarp down. Sun bathing is terribly over rated. Sand gets in places you didn't know you had and didn't especially want to discover. When I was fifteen, I saw my first nude men there. They didn't look anything like my younger brothers. They required hours of study, assisted by a few of my school friends. Thinking back, I can't believe they didn't hear a gaggle of giggling girls hiding in the beach grass.

At the end of the road is Shell Beach with a 360 degree view of the water. My favorite days are when Mom and I grab some big delicious sandwiches and drinks from Fedi's and go sit on that beach chatting away - but carefully. Sound carries in strange ways there and you often hear entire conversations taking place. It's involuntary eavesdropping.

On graduation night, the Seniors go to Shell Beach and the local police just put a car at the end of the road so that no one can enter or exit without them knowing and no booze can get on the beach. That's why we had to go there the day before and bury all the beer in the sand ahead of time....the only problem would be most of the cops are locals and they know that trick. In which case, it's best to bury the beer two or three days ahead of the planned inebriation.

The beach is good for wading, but not swimming. There's no lifeguard. Strong currents swirl around the little Island peninsula and you can be on your way inbound to Coecles Harbor or outbound to Montauk or Orient Point in just a few minutes. But if you have some company you'd like to be rid of, it's a good place to tell them to swim. When my children we young and irritating, especially when my daughter was in the brat stage, from age 8 to 21, I took her there to swim many times. But she's always been such a good swimmer, she always made it back to the beach.

It will be strange now, driving on the road without risking overturning the car. I'm not sure if it will still be popular as a lovers lane. With the advent of cell phones that can take and email pictures to other people or straight to the internet, illicit romance just won't be as fun as it used to be. There's nothing that will kill the mood like sixty people showing up and peering in the windows of the car. I just hate it when that happens...

English Made Easy

Life is Just a Bowl of Cherries

Linguists report that English is the most difficult language to learn. It has more words than any other language and it is the only language that has exceptions to every single rule. To be proficient, a new speaker has to learn all the rules and all the exceptions. English is primarily based in latin, with about a third of our words derived from French origins and another portion from germanic languages. You can learn english the right way, or the short way.
I believe the fastest way to learn conversational English is to just study all the food references. It makes learning English a cakewalk. Let me exemplify...

Liver lips Louie was a fishfaced, meathead, with cauliflower ears, butterfingers, and egg on his face half the time. He was in love with Lil McGill, she was the apple of his eye, a real sweet girl with a peaches and cream complexion. She wore her hair in cornrows. The two of them were like peas in a pod.

Louie could be a little rough sometimes, especially when he was in his cups and the whiskey started talking. He'd get beer muscles and get all stirred up over nothing. Somebody might yell, "Hey, who cut the cheese?" And Louie would whip the guy to a standstill. Louie always seemed to be in a jam, which is not the same as being in a pickle. It takes a little longer to get out of a jam, but all Louie had to do was simmer down and be prepared to eat a little humble pie.

Louie loved Lil, but she was a little light in the bulb department, a few sandwiches short of a picnic some might say. But she knew which side her bread was buttered on. Louie was the breadwinner. He brought home the bacon and together their lives were a piece of cake.

Until Tony came along. Tony was Lil's brother, a real couch potato. He was a big talking cowardly turkey, but too chicken to admit it. Tony would mooch off of them whenever he could. He was always in hot water with Louie. Tony would provoke Louie and always manage to bite off more than he could chew. Louie was always cool as a cucumber around Tony, but when Louie had enough, he'd launch Tony through the air and out the front door like a hot knife through butter. Tony would scream a protest as he flew over, but Louie would yell back, "That's the way the cookie crumbles!" Tony knew his goose was cooked and it was time for him to mooch on.

Lil would always feel terrible about her brother the mooch, but Louie told her, "No use crying over spilt milk, baby."
"Ahhh Louie," she'd respond, "whoever said we wasn't meant to be together don't know we're happy as clams."
"You're the only one for me, Lil. I'm sorry I gotta throw your brother out, but if he's gonna dish it, he'd better learn to take it!"
"Yeah, if he can't take the heat, he should go to the living room."
"You mean get outta the kitchen."
"Who's in the kitchen?"
"It's an expression, Lil, like saying 'he got toasted'".
"Tony was drinking in my kitchen?"
"No, honeybun, never mind."
"Speaking of buns, Louie, you'll never guess what's in the oven..."
"Oh Lil! A little quarter pounder?"
"Yep. I wanna name him Kale."
"I'm so happy, Lil! Poke me with a fork, I am done!"

Final Rest

It always happens in three's. We lost Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcet and Michael Jackson all in two days. For me, it's the end of an era. Ed McMahon was our last connection to Johnny Carson, whom we all still miss. Not that Jay Leno wasn't terrific, but Johnny was with us every night at 11:30 pm through thick or thin for 34 years. The one constant in our lives was Johnny Carson and his lame routines. He left us way too soon.

Michael Jackson in his early days, when he was black, was a cultural icon. I remember his incredible break out performance on the 25th Anniversary Celebration of Motown. It was the first time he did the moonwalk and wore his sparkly white glove. After that he did the Thriller album, which I still have, he made the first memorable music video on VH1 which was a radical new channel (all music - who'd watch that?) on the still new cable TV. Then he seemed to me to lose his fucking mind, changing his face to a gender neutral mess, and obviously taking female hormones to keep his voice high and to keep his body from becoming more muscular. Just look at his four brothers, all nice looking, well muscled black men. Then he began taking something to kill the melanin in his body. For someone who claimed to be proud of being black, he did everything he could to become white. I saw him in person once, a glimpse as he was passing by, he was as white as a natural albino, no color at all and hypersensitive to the sun. When I heard of his death, I blamed it on whatever he was taking to suppress the melanin because I believe it made his systems fragile, just like an albino. A tragedy, he was a great talent. As the truth comes out, we'll hear that he took something to bleach his skin systemically. And what happens to the kids? I hope they go back to their mothers. The youngest two kids are not Michael's biological kids. He says yes, but I say no. He couldn't bleach his DNA, his two youngest children are not mixed race. That truth will come out too.

Farrah Fawcet is a beauty icon who will live on, like Marilyn or Sophia. Every girl in high school tried to achieve the Farrah windswept hairdo. It was in the pursuit of the Farrah look that I learned lesson that all women learn and the sooner the better. Hairspray.

The "Farrah do" was a layered, frosted ash blonde streaked, wind tossed, but not wind blown look, which was a battle to get. You could get a layered cut at the salon, and a professional frosting, if you could afford it, looked fantastic. Most of us could afford the cut, but not the frosting, so we did that ourselves. If it was summertime, you could buy Sun-In, a spray on bleach that you sprayed all over your hair before baking in the sun at the beach. Sun-In would blonde you up if you were already a dark blonde and would blend in nicely and you looked just lovely. For the auburn haired gals like me, it created bright brassy red streaks that stood in stark contrast to a brunette background and looked just frightening. To correct the Sun-In, we bought a Frost 'n' Tip kit. You put a plastic cap on your head and, using the sharp red plastic crochet hook provided, you punched through the cap where the black dots indicated and if you followed the instructions, you pulled through only a thin amount of hair so the highlights would blend. However, to a teenager, more is better, so you'd pull through a wad of hair to bleach completely white. Removing the cap, I looked at a head of dark brown, bright red, and white hair. I had more colors than Crayola. But, we see what we want to see, so I was very happy to have something akin to the Farrah do. Now I had to master the "windswept all the time" look.

The windswept look was accomplished with curlers and curling irons, and you could get it perfect while standing at the mirror. You had to look like you were standing twenty feet behind a propeller, any closer and the curls would blow out, the problems began when you moved. Windswept hair has to defy gravity. It cannot hang down like normal hair, it must make a right angle turn at the cheek bones and run parallel to the ground after that. How to get it to stay in place, here was the real challenge.

Gels and Mousse's made the hair heavy and pulled it down. AquaNet hairspray said it could hold without stiffness. Nope, it didn't work. I tried one hairspray after another. Finally, I paid attention to my Aunt Margaret, who wore a beehive hairdo. Her hair never moved. She could go on a boat and still look good coming in. Any hairdo, outside of a ponytail, that survives a Boston Whaler, is a serious hairdo. I knew it was one of two things, either she sold her soul to the devil for perfect hair, or there was a magic elixir in her bathroom. I went into her inner sanctum of beauty and there it was, the Holy Grail of hairdo's, Final Net.

Final Net sprays a thin layer of boat grade shellac over your hair. While it's wet, you quickly smooth your wispy ends down and let it dry. Once dry, your hair feels like a smooth tupperware container on your head, a container that is holding a perfect and indestructible hairdo. You hair may break, but it will not bend. Once I found Final Net, I was able to achieve my Farrah do. Layered, dyed, curled, shellaced, I was finally ready to face the world and be mistaken for Farrah.

Over the years, the layered hair grew out and it's no longer necessary for me to buy bleaching agents to streak my hair with white, but the one thing that remains with me to this day is Final Net. Final Net has kept my hair smooth and in place through camping trips, convertible cars, and rides at Disneyland. I'm going to be buried with a tube of red lipstick and Final Net. In the event of an afterlife, I want to be ready for the party.

How to Get a Boat

Getting the money for the boat is only half the problem, the other half is usually, your other half...July is fast approaching and if you haven't talked your mate, partner, significant other, into getting a boat this year, here are some strategies.

Strategies for Gals

1. Promise the guy the perverse sex act of his choice, and the bigger the boat, the more perverse the act. Don't worry, you'll never have to do it, just promise him, you can always break your promise later with some creative excuse. I like to say, "You know I'd love to do that, hunny, I just love the whole thing with the chickens and whipped cream, but the doctor said I've contracted Acidopholous corpus rotus delecti, and it's very contagious whenever I'm in an aroused state. But we can if you do it if you really want to..." Gets you off the hook everything.

2. Promise you'll sit and watch his football games with him this fall. He'll be thrilled. All you have to do is keep asking him questions during the first game and by half time he'll be begging you to leave the room. Just keep the beer and sandwiches going and he'll still believe you really wanted to spend four hours watching millionaires in shiny pants running into each other.

3. Tell him that buying a boat means you won't have enough money to go visit your folks anytime in the coming year. This is actually true. You won't be able to afford to visit anyone. After you buy the boat, a trip to Riverhead will be a big adventure. As a matter of fact, once you buy the boat, you won't have money to do anything else except go out on the water, quelle damage...

4. Tell him that buying a boat exempts him from doing any house painting or repairs. This is a really good ruse. After you get the boat, if you need a house repair this is what you do; buy and make sure he sees your new "How to Do House Repairs Yourself" book. Get a hammer, everything seems to start with a hammer, and some duct tape. While he's puttering around the house, start to do your repair work. You know how men do a deliberately lousy job when they do a housework task - so that in frustration, you yank the vacuum/mop/sponge from them and just do it yourself? Same principle here. Once they hear hammering, they'll have to come to supervise you. Once they see what you're doing, because you have no idea really, they'll yank the hammer from your hand and off you go!

I'll pause here to say that I realize the younger readers may think it's wrong to use manipulation and deception with the one that you love. And in a perfect world, filled with only perfect people, perfect honesty would work. But ask yourself how close to perfection your loved one is. I believe that the distance between their existing personality and perfection can be justifiably filled in with delusion and deception. In time, you will see the wisdom of this.

Strategies for Guys

1. If you want that boat, promise her a full day of shopping at the mall of her choice with your credit cards, and you will go along and hold her purse without complaint. Of course, you can always break your promise later, but I wouldn't recommend it. But if you decide to do it anyway, you should sleep with a gun under your pillow for at least six months, just as a precaution.

2. Promise her that she can pick the next four movies you see. She'll pick chick-flicks of course, but you can survive it, that's what drugs and alcohol are for.

3. Tell her that buying a boat means you won't have enough money to go visit your relatives anytime soon. Even better, tell her you won't be able to afford entertaining them at your house. As a further back up, tell her that if your people show up, you'll take them out on the boat the whole visit so she doesn't have to cook, clean, hostess. A woman knows a man won't break a promise like this because men don't like company for more that three hours no matter whose family it is and men certainly don't want to visit anybody's parents and be grilled on what they're doing or listen to hints of what relatives think they should be doing.

4. If the situation is desperate and she's not buying any of your shallow promises, you have one last stratagem left. It's the most difficult for a man, but it softens women up everything. Practice this statement, "I was wrong and I am sorry." You can paraphrase if you want, but get the words "wrong" and "sorry" in there somehow. Women never hear these words from men, so the shock of it stuns us. And after being stunned a few times, you can say, "I was wrong and I am sorry. I don't deserve someone like you and I don't know how you've put up with me all these years. I wish I could ask you if I could buy a boat so I could continue to meditate on changing my ways while on the water, but I know it's too much to ask of you." If you can connect that buying a boat with make you a more sensitive and considerate partner, you're in like Flynn....

Unauthorized Opinions

The definition of fascism is: an authoritarian and system of government with intolerant views or practices.

Miss California lost her title because she had an opinion unauthorized by the governing media. She said she is personally opposed to gay marriage, but respects the rights of others to have a different view. It took the bureaucracy a while to figure out a way to fire her for her unpopular opinion, but they managed it. I hope no one is fooled here. Her First Amendments rights were violated. She has the right to her opinion and she has the right to say it out loud regardless of whether it's approved by the media or not. I applaud her for answering honestly about her position as opposed to giving a safe answer. Most gay people I know have no problem with anyone disagreeing with their lifestyle, so long as that disagreement doesn't impinge on their civil rights or in anyway poison their pursuit of happiness. Makes perfect sense to me. We have the right to think and say anything we like, but we cannot impose on others.

I hate the way the media works to shape our opinions instead of just giving us the plain facts and let us interpret them ourselves. Where is this generation's Huntley and Brinkley, or Cronkite? All the news is so filtered through corporate views, it's very hard to discern the truth.

On Shelter Island, there is a list of unauthorized opinions. And everything I just said, only applies to the off-island world. There really are some things you cannot think here, and you'd better not say.

* "We should build a bridge from Sag Harbor to Shelter Island." NO! This is a completely unauthorized thought that should never make it to your lips. I have heard that this thought has been uttered by some people in the past. But we'll never know who they are, or where their bodies are buried...

* "We should have a McDonald's, or Pizza Hut or some of the big franchise stores here." No. Not allowed. We have everything we need - that is the official and approved opinion. Franchises are the spawn of the devil. Let one in and we'll have to let them all in... and like Walmart wiping out all the trade in a town, our Ma & Pa stores will disappear. And we love our local stores more than we need a McDonald's. Besides, we can always take a ferry and drive twenty miles through thick traffic in the summer heat to Bridgehampton if we have a Big Mac Attack.

* "People who can afford to build a heliport on their property should be allowed to do so." Nope. If we okay one, we'll have ten in a few years. The sound of helicopters will cut through the cherished quiet of the Island like a hot blade through butter. At night, when sound really carries, it will wake everybody up. If that happens, the anti-helicopter forces will spring into action. Helicopters with harpoons through them will lay rusting in the sun on open fields, their blades stripped and used to paint homey scenes on and sold by the roadside as folk art.

* "A tattoo and piercing parlor would be great here." I actually overheard this in Pat & Steve's one day. A group of young people were reviewing everything they hated about the Island and what they thought the Island needed. A Tattoo and Piercing Parlor would go over here like the KKK opening a coffee shop across from the Obama Whitehouse. I shared my opinion with the youngsters and they gave me that First Amendment stuff about having the right to say anything they like. I reminded them that they also had the right to remain silent. I probably shouldn't have stabbed the one closest to me with a fork, but he already had bolts in his face, so I thought the fork punctures in his arm would sort of go with his theme of self mutilation for fun and profit.

* "We need a combination bar/laudromat/deli for the single people and single parents on this Island." Actually, I think this is just my opinion. Having moved into six rentals over ten years, only two had washers and dryers. I believe if we had a combo bar/laudromat/deli, we could get the wash done, meet other singles and get dinner for the kids in one location. I know it's just a dream, like getting a movie theater here, but I've always dreamed big.

Giant Clams and Elephants

Island Elephants

Memorial Day has come and gone and the tourist season is officially begun. Every year, at this time, I try to put forth some gentle reminders for both tourists and locals.

Tourists:
* Top speed on Shelter Island is 40mph, unless you're a local man in a truck, then it's 65mph. On the surface, that seems a bit unfair. It is unfair below the surface as well, but it's an elephant in the living room, more accurately an elephant on the Island, that we just don't talk about.
* Many of you bring your bikes to ride and that is very nice. And if there's a gaggle of you (seven or more) riding in a group, you may take up a lane on the road and none of the cars will try to go around you. If you're biking in a smaller group, like three, you'd better ride single file and stay way over on the right or risk being hit by one of the aforementioned elephants.
* Courtesy is the key to the Island. Locals may fight and feud, but cutting someone off in traffic, or cutting in any line, or failing to yell to them that they left their coke on top of their car before they get into it, is just not done. So when you're in a food store and a local worker is behind you with his sandwich, bag of cheetos and a drink, and you have a cart full of groceries, let him go ahead of you. He has a 30 minute lunch and is probably going to bolt his sandwich down in the truck, so give the working people a break. And remember, don't make any comments about how the workmen smell. Sweat is the scent of honest work. Not to mention, you will so regret having made a snide comment if you see that same worker fixing your deck later that day. Any worker will tell you that rudeness seems to increase the time or cost needed to complete a task. On the surface, that seems a bit unfair. It is unfair below the surface as well, but it's another elephant on the Island.
* To the visiting women. We know you're here to feel free and have a wonderful time. However, there is a weight and age limit to belly shirts, thongs, sleeveless tanks, short shorts and going braless. If you're over 18 or over 110 pounds, you're over the limit. I myself, was only qualified to wear short shorts for one day in third grade, and then only for a half hour.

Locals:
* Attention MIT's (Men in Trucks); please don't paint those little symbols of bikes, tiny cars and jogging tourists with the big "X"'s through them on the side of your truck this year. It scares people. Please just keep score by carving a notch in your dashboard this year and an accounting will be done after Labor Day, at someone's end of summer barbecue.
* Ladies; please refrain from beating tourists who are taking too long at the Deli counter in IGA with the baguettes . It's childish and unbecoming. If you jam them in the back of the ankles with the cart like I do, they hobble away in pain, which effectively takes them out of line and you can claim the whole thing was an accident. Also, why waste those lovely baguettes?
* We all love shells. Last week I wrote about the loss of shells on the Island beaches, after the article came out - it occurred to me that a big part of the problem is probably tourist women stealing our shells! We either have to invent, or find, a shell scanner that all cars exiting the Island will have to go through. We can erect them by the ferries. As the car passes through, the scanner will outline the contraband shells being smuggled off Island and we can stop them in their tracks and do a conch crackdown. We have plenty of dogs on the Island and they can be trained to be shell sniffin' canines. If dogs can smell drugs through plastic wrap, foil and coffee grounds, then smelling seaweed stuck on a shell at a hundred paces should be easy. This will put an end to the "taking home a pretty shell as a souvenier" mentality! No more freebies, they can buy a T-shirt at the pharmacy like any normal tourist. The Town Board can institute a Brine Fine for those shell smugglers! Of course, locals can take shells off Island whenever they wish. On the surface, that may seem a bit unfair. But it is very fair below the surface where the shells originate. And it does not qualify as an elephant on the Island that we won't talk about, because elephants don't live underwater. That's where the giant clams that eat tourist legs live, but we don't talk about them either.

Driving

Driving Me Crazy

You get very "islandized" living on an island. You think differently about the off-island world...

There are many different reasons for going off-island. Some people go shopping, some go to see relatives, some even work off-island and have to make the trip back and forth every day. When off-island, for whatever reason, it's important to remember that the ways of the off-island people are not the same as Islanders.

When off-island:
1. Do not assume you can park anywhere close to your destination. If you go to BJ's or some other big store, you may have to park across an entire parking lot. Take a pen and sketch a map on your palm of where your car is.
2. If you have parked in some obscure corner of a big parking lot, don't assume you will remember where you parked when you emerge from the store, you probably won't, that's why you should have made a map on your hand like I told you.
3. Don't bother asking off-islanders if they saw where you parked your car. Only Islander's know each other's cars and pay attention to where you parked, or should not have parked, your car.
4. Don't talk to off-islanders in a grocery store. They don't know what's available at the local farm stands to supplement what you're buying in the store, nor do they care. Very few off-islanders can carry on a conversation about squashes and cooking techniques, for more than two minutes. Off-islanders have Podcasts News broadcasts, which they download on their computers. Islanders have Peapodcast News, which is standing in the produce isle in IGA and either listening in, or participating in every conversation. After 20 minutes, you'll be completely caught up on everything going on on-Island.
5. You can drive faster than 40mph off-island. Please remember that. Off-islanders have this thing that you have to go zooming along on their big fancy highways, I've often hit 50mph myself. They can't stop and smell the roses, because you can't even see them at those blazing speeds.
6. There are traffic lights off-island. Since no one can take turns off-island, the government has had to step in and hang up boxes to tell you when it's your turn to go. The yellow light seems to be open to interpretation, but I notice that women think it means Stop and men think it means Speed Up!.
7. All the food we see advertised on television is obtainable off-island. If you buy some, put it in a big black plastic bag and don't open it until you get home and close your shades. If the ferry workers smell french fries, you'll feel so guilty, you'll have to hand them over. If your neighbors see you bringing bags of fast food into your house, they'll think of a reason to visit and you'll end up cutting your Big Mac into halves or quarters. Lesson here; if you can't bring enough for everybody, have the decency to hide what you have.
8. Resist asking off-island cashiers to hurry up, or you'll miss your boat. They'll always look at you like you already have...
9. If you're single, avoid dating off-islanders. Unless they're very wealthy and marriage minded, it's never worth the ferry tickets. One of the reasons that Islanders divorce and marry other Islanders is the natural drive in human nature to conserve ferry tickets unless you have at least three reasons to go off-island.
10. Many off-islanders don't even know where Shelter Island is, always remember the Shelter Island rules. If off-islanders ask where we are, don't tell them. If they ask for directions, misguide them. Confirm all rumors that the government conducts germ warfare tests on Shelter Island. Tell them that one way ferry tickets cost $50. Tell them the ferries are very safe, we only lost a few hundreds people last year from ferries overturning and sinking.

The off-island world is strange, their customs different, but still, we can avoid contamination through diligence, misguidance, blatant and non-blatant lies, treachery and flame-throwers.

She Shells Sea Shells and More

To Shell With It

While sitting in my car and overlooking the beach last winter, I remember thinking how peaceful and pleasant it is to walk the beach at dusk in the summer. Especially at the end of a not-too-hot day, with just nominal wind so the waves lap slowly and lazily up and down the beach. The way a thin layer of water foams and swirls around your feet and pulls back, sinking your feet deeper into the sand. There's something about that experience that makes ordinary shells and stones look somehow special and compels us to pick up a few new ones everytime we walk the beach. I still have a perfect spherical white pebble I found while walking Wades Beach in high school. It looks like a big pearl. It's just a stone, but it's one of my favorite little treasures.

I began to think, always a dangerous activity, about how Shelter Island recycles everything - and long before it was in style. Then I began to think about all the jars of shells and pebbles I have as decorations around the house. And I began to think of all the houses on the Island with jars of shells and pebbles. There's probably enough sand, pebbles and shells in jars all over the Island to build a whole new beach! Maybe it's time for us to recycle some of these shells and pebbles back onto the beach instead of putting them in the back of the closet while we get a new jar of shells this year. I have noticed, over time, that the beach seems to have fewer and fewer nice shells to take home. At first I thought I was imagining it, but now I'm thinking it's because we've all been slowly clearing the beaches of the pretty shells and pebbles and leaving the broken shells and ugly pebbles, cause there doesn't seem to be any shortage of them. So this year, I think I'll recycle, or reshell, the beaches I love with things I have borrowed from them over the years.

Jean: "Ahhhh, Sally, how nice. The beach looks better already. How many jars is that, six?"
Me: "Seven. I don't know which shells came from which beaches though, I may have mixed the Wades Beach shells with the Louis' Beach shells or the Shell Beach shells. But I don't think it matters, do you?"
Jean: "No, I don't think it matters as long as they're from local beaches, but what about this batch you left over here?"
Me: "Those are shells from Tamalpais Beach in California, I had four jars from there. I thought it would be nice, as long as I was in a reshelling mood, to add a few exotics...."
Jean: "I think the reshelling idea is great, but I think you should only reshell local shells, to maintain shell consistency, you know, Shelter Island has standards. Lots of areas limit your paint color choices when you paint your house and such, I'm just not sure that you should..... WAIT! What's that over there? Why is the sand pink and purple? And why is it glittering?"
Me; "Glitter? What glitter? It's the sun playing tricks with your eyes."
Jean: "I don't believe it. Where did you get pink and purple sand filled with glitter?"
Me: "The Honolulu Hilton gift shop. It was a tourist trap, but the shells were so pretty in the colored sand, I just had to buy a few jars. I think the sparkles give the beige sand a little zip."
Jean: "What about the shells? None of these shells are local! The spiny conch shells look awful here, and the little shark jaws have got to go - you'll scare people."
Me: "I thought it would be nice for the kids to find unusual things on the beach."
Jean: "No mother wants her toddler to reappear at the beach blanket with shark jars."
Me: "I see your point."
Jean: "Okay, let's just pick up the little jaws and spiny shells that kids can step on. You had such a good idea, and as always, you just have to go over the top. Why are you looking down? What else have you done to our pristine beaches? 'fess up!"
Me: "Well, the glitter looks so pretty mixed into the sand, and I just thought..."
Jean: "I saw empty plastic bags labeled, "Sequins", in your car, tell me you didn't...."
Me: "No, no, there's no sequins here."
Jean: "Thank God."
Me: "I spread them all over Wades Beach yesterday. The sand looks gorgeous now, you should see it before you judge me."
Jean: "Get in your car! And wait there while I find a piece of driftwood to beat you to death with."

The Shelter Island Tonite Show!

Shelter Island Tonite!

After seventeen years, Jay Leno is down to his last few weeks as host of The Tonight Show. For his first ten years as host, I was still saying, "I'm watching Johnny Carson." Johnny was such a consistent presence in my life from childhood up, that I felt a real loss when he announced his retirement and then disappeared off the radar altogether. Now, when I've finally gotten used to Jay and memorized all his staple routines ( I love Monday Night Headlines), he's leaving me too. Conan O'Brien takes over soon. Conan is okay for someone who thinks his staring contests with guests are funny, but I always switch to Craig Ferguson on The Late Late Show after Letterman, he's very original and spontaneous. I'm okay with Letterman, but only watch if he has a guest I want to see. So I guess when Jay leaves, I'll have to train myself to watch Letterman, it won't be easy, but these things happen in life. You just never know when your TV viewing will hit a speed bump and disrupt your insomnia. Of course, if Shelter Island, which has its own channel, had a late night show, I'd have a real choice again.

Announcer: "Shelter Island Tonite! with your host, Bill McGill. Tonight's guests are; Sarah Schmopit, Winner of the 2009 Seashell Yard Design, and Harry Bicker, with fascinating tales of a Shelter Island Taxi driver, and lastly, we have a demonstration of the new routine from the Shelter Island Lion's Club Power Mower Racing Team."

Bill: "If you've never seen our Power Mower Racing Team, folks, it's a real treat. Using synchronized mowing, they mow a design in the huge lawns on Shelter Island, the homeowner just has to host a barbeque. The accuracy and amount of detail in the design is directly dependent on whether they mow before or after the Barbeque. Before the barbeque, you can get a replica of something elaborate, like Washington Crossing the Delaware, after the barbeque, you might get "Budweiser" spelled in big letters across the lawn. Crop circles have nothin' on our boys and their John Deere's!

Bill: "Before we call out Ms Schmopit, we have a few announcements; low tide will be at 5:54AM. If you're new to clamming, get out there by 6:30AM to get in a good two hours. If you're old to clamming, stay in your own clambeds. We only have one cop on at that hour and if he has to come down and break up another clam rake duel, he'll permanently confiscate the rakes of the involved parties.
We have a 10mph breeze expected from the southeast bringing warm weather. It'll be a perfect day to put up a little canvas, but if you feel the need for speed, call your friend with an outboard.
Remember to bring your own bags and egg cartons to the farm stands. If you're trading, use the Island's pound for pound exchange rate. You can pick up a pound of zucchini if you leave a pound of shellfish. Two beers counts as a pound and also one ferry ticket counts as a pound for exchange purposes. If you observe an off-islander abusing our honor system, get their license number and call this show. We will publically humiliate them at no charge and their car will be clammed by the next islander who sees them. That's right off-islanders, I said clammed, not keyed. It's illegal to use your car key to scratch someone's car, however nowhere in New York State or Federal law is there any law regulating the use of mollusks.
And now, let's welcome Sarah Schmopit! Tell us Ms Schmopit, where did you get the inspiration to replicate the Eiffel Tower in sea shells in your front yard?"

Sarah: "Call me Sarah, Bill. I got the inspiration from seeing a picture of this thing in Paris, which as you know, is quite off-island."

Bill: "Ah yes, the off-island influences, they are all around us all the time. It's hard sometimes to choose which information we want from the off-island world."

Sarah: "Well, my husband and I built this replica, six feet tall you know, and we improved on the original design."

Bill: "You improved the engineering design of the Eiffel Tower? That's impressive! What did you do exactly?"

Sarah: "Well, our tower features four built in bird houses and green and red, port and starboard, lights on the top. Just think, if the original tower in Paris had port and starboard lights, how much easier it would be for pilots to steer the airplanes to the right of the tower. I guess the French, drinking all that wine, never thought of that..."

Bill: "Well, it just proves the point that there's not much in the off-island world that we can't improve on here."

Laid off - What Now????

Can't you wait till 5pm???

"AP - Wed Apr 15, 8:20 pm ET
MADISON, Wis. – A nurse was called out of surgery so a manager could tell her she was being laid off. ...The Madison-based health care provider announced Wednesday that it planned to "immediately" lay off 90 employees. Dean Health spokesman Paul Pitas said the incident happened at Dean's West Clinic in Madison on Wednesday or Thursday. Pitas declined to name the employees involved or what type of surgery the nurse was attending when she was called away."

I've heard of getting laid off on short notice, but this really takes the cake. The employers should at least let you finish your shift before laying you off. Geez, what if that happened here?

Patty: "Look at the ferry guys, Mary, they just took out money, now they're coming back this way again. Wait a minute, they're handing money over to people, what's going on?"
Ferry Worker: "We just got a call, we've all been laid off effective immediately. We're giving everybody their money back before we leave."
Patty: "Whaddaya mean leave? You can't go in the middle of the trip! You gotta get us docked and off the boat!"
Ferry Worker: "The heck we do! We're being picked up now. You people will be fine, the tide is coming in, you'll run around on the Sag Harbor beach."
Patty: "I don't wanna run aground in Sag Harbor, I wanna run aground at Bridgehampton Commons! Wait ! Come back here!
Mary: "Forget it, they're all going over the side on a rope ladder. That clamboat is picking them up. Everybody's getting out of their cars, lets see what we can figure out together."
Passenger 1: "We're drifting sideways, can't we straighten the boat out somehow?"
Patty: "You can go up in the wheelhouse and try to drive, but it's like trying to steer a giant soapdish."
Mary: "Well, we're moving fast enough. I can see people on the beach starting to stand up and look at us. HEY! On the beach! Get your kids out of the water!"
Patty: "Some of the men are running into the water, what are they going to do? Swim out to us? They should just stay where they are, we'll be there in a minute. Unless, of course... they're going to try to board us."
Passenger 2: "That's it! Those Sag Harborians have wanted their ferry for years, they're going to try to board us and take our ship!"
Passenger 1: "Not without a fight! Attention everyone! Prepare to repel boarders!"
Patty: "Search your cars for whatever can be used for a weapon!"
Passenger 1: "Here they come! I count six men, but that's probably just the first wave. Cast off the rope ladder!
Mary: "Patty! What are you doing? I have to return that toaster to Target."
Patty: "It's no longer a toaster, it has been re-purposed, it is now a defensive weapon! Watch this! Hey! Saggie! Smile!"
Mary: "Bullseye! Way to go Patty, you knocked him out!"
Patty: "Go get the kids carseats! They'll never take us alive!"

Local Papers May 8th edition:
Islanders Repel Saggies!
An attempt was made by the residents of Sag Harbor earlier this week, to commandeer a Shelter Island ferry. Islanders, in a valiant attempt to save their vessel, put up a noble fight until their ship ran aground and they were overwhelmed by the superior numbers on the beach. Choosing to destroy the vessel rather that have it and all it's technology fall into the hands of an envious neighbor, the Islanders set the boat ablaze. Sag Harborains saw the smoke from all points of town, and thinking it was just a hell of a bonfire, hundreds arrived with marshmellows and beer. Several Saggies, obviously under the influence, claimed they were attacked with toasters, child seats and other objects as they attempted to board and assist in what appeared to be an out of control ferry. These two tribes have lived together in peace for generations, separated only by a thin strip of water. We can only hope that the peace of the south fork will be restored and the Islanders will give up their obvious attempt to create a new landing zone on the Sag Harbor beach. We will print updates as we receive them.

Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg

A Lake By Any Other Name...


By David Goguen on April 22, 2009
"Chargoggagoggmanchauggauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg. It may look like the result of someone falling asleep on their keyboard, but it's actually the name of a lake near the town of Webster in central Massachusetts, and it's got a local chamber of commerce scrambling to fix not-so-glaring spelling errors on highway signs.
The Worcester Telegram & Gazette reports that the signs are mistakenly spelled "with an 'o' where a 'u' should be, at letter 20, and an 'h' instead of an 'n' at letter 38." So, the correction will actually lower the lake's Scrabble word value from 134 points to 131. The U.S. Board on Geographic Names says that the lake's name is a Nipmuck Indian word that translates loosely to "You fish on your side, I fish on my side, nobody fishes in the middle."

I know what you're thinking, yes I checked and I can't find any phonetic pronunciation for this lake. It's a local secret, but any east coast resident understands the need to keep Indian pronunciation secret. One of the privileges of living in former Indian territory is that only the locals know how to properly pronounce the local Indian names. One of my guilty pleasures is waiting for a visitor to try to pronounce local Indian names correctly. Naturally they fail miserably and then I can laugh with an imperious attitude and enjoy a fleeting sense of superiority that says, "Ha! you fool! How could you even think you could complete with my brilliant intellect? Just listen to your pathetic attempts to pronounce Mashomack."

But what really piqued my interest in this article was who was the person who noticed the misspelling? I mean, just how slow were they driving to notice this mistake? I gave it a lot of thought, because it vexed me. I think I figured it out. I believe, the misspelling was caught by an Middle School English teacher who has car pooled by that sign every work day for roughly two years. How did I arrive at this? Only an English school teacher would notice this. Only an English school teacher who had to know the correct spelling would notice it. Only a Middle School English teacher would have the duty to make students learn local spellings like this one. It appears the sign is next to a highway and on a curve, so doing between 40 to 55 mph, the observer would only have a few seconds to see the sign. The driver could only glance at it, so it had to be observed by a passenger who had the time to look closely. Figuring the passenger looked closely for a few seconds at each passing, they could only have proof read a few letters at a time. Therefore, they proof read it in sections. A 45 letter word seen daily for a few seconds, minus the number of times she was a passenger on the days it wasn't her turn to drive, plus the angle of the sun in the early morning, minus holidays and weekends, factoring in the occasional grafitti defacements, plus the price of tea in China, it all adds up - a Middle School English teacher carpooling over a two year period was the only person who would have noticed the mispelling and its a good thing he or she did. It's just this kind of chaos in the world that keeps me up all night.

Many years ago, my ex pronounced Ronkonkoma, "Ronk-a-nonk-a-noma" to peals of laughter from my entire family. To this day, we mispronounce that way because we're part of a that secret joke club that all families have that perpetuate running gags in the family.

I was in San Rafael, CA and heard a woman in a department store telling the clerk she was shopping for her vacation in New York, she was going to "Pa-cho-go-gee" a.k.a. Patchogue. I laughed and corrected her because that was my right as a native Long Islander.

Of course, living in California for my married years and married to a native Californian, I often struggled with the pronunciation of all the spanish named towns, which seem to be most of the towns in that state. Not many Indian names that I recall, but lotsa spanish names. Being a native New Yorker and seeing all these names ending in vowels, I naturally pronounced them Italian style. My ex and his entire family found my pronunciations hysterically funny, which shows how juvenile and sophomoric a sense of humor they possessed. Of course someone who's never been exposed to these names would mispronounce them, and why is that funny? I had hoped that years of being exposed to my superior sense of decorum and class would help them, but one can only do so much.

The Hundredaires Club

Hundredaire Matchmaker's Club

I love watching the Millionaire Matchmaker's Club. It amazes me that even a multimillionaire can be a schmo or a total jerk. I don't know why I tend to think sometimes that money automatically improves manners or morals. A rich moron is just a moron with a staff - there's a frightening thought.

I think there should be a matchmaker's club for the average guy, the Hundredaire's Club I'll call it. Same as the Millionaire's Club, just scaled way down....

Joe: "I think I meet all your criteria, Sally, I got two hundred bucks in the bank, my rent is paid up, no cut-off notices, and I got one paid of dark trousers and one shirt that fits without the buttons pulling to wear on a date. Also, I got a boat."
Sally: "That's terrific! You qualify. Tell me more about the boat."
Joe: "It's a Boston Whaler, about five years old....new poles...cooler....new anchor....she can pick out new boat cushions...."
Sally: "I know I can get you a nice Island girl, Joe. Tell me what you're looking for."
Joe: "Natural blonde, big blue eyes, pretty face, about 5'5", 110-115 pounds, big rack, not over 22."
Sally: "Joe, look at this piece of furniture, have you ever seen one of these before?"
Joe: "I think maybe, in a catalog. Sure is big and shiny."
Sally: "We call it a full length mirror, Joe. Stand in front of it."
Joe: "Okay, now what?"
Sally: "Do you see a well muscled, six foot tall man of 25 with a full head of hair, flat stomach and a full set of shiny white teeth?"
Joe: "Not exactly, but very close."
Sally: "Very close? Any chance you see a 40-ish man with grey thinning hair, jowls, a paunch, and smoker's teeth?"
Joe: "Nope, that's not what I see. Where'd you get this trick mirror anyway?"
Sally: "Don't feel bad, Joe, every man sees himself as 25 no matter how old he gets. But we must be realistic. The women you want, the petite natural blondes with the big racks, they're all registered with the Millionaires Club, not with the Hundredaires Club. I try to match nice average people with each other. Think for a minute, besides looks, what else do you really want in a woman?"
Joe: "A good cook would be nice, especially if she makes good lasagna."
Sally: "Now you're talking, Joe! I got eighteen women in my registry that love to cook Italian. What else?"
Joe: "Well, a girl that likes to work on a boat would be great. A sports fan would be a big plus."
Sally: "You're singing my tune, Joe. You want a baseball or football fanatic?"
Joe: "You got some baseball girls?"
Sally: "Do I have baseball girls? Joe, I'm lousy with 'em. What do you need? Mets fan? Yankees? Red Sox?"
Joe; "Gimme a Yankees girl!"
Sally: "Yankees fan, that cooks Italian, loves to work on boats...... let's see... I got three potentials for you, and one is a natural blonde, plus she's Polish like you."
Joe: "Uff da! I'm in love already, who's the lucky girl?"
Sally: "She lives in Mattituck. Will you commute for love, Joe?"
Joe: "Geez, I dunno, those long distance relationships never seem to work out."
Sally: "The other two are Island gals, one is a dyed blonde the other is a brunette."
Joe: "Lemme think a minute... so to get a real blonde I got to use up ferry tickets...."
Sally: "Life is full of tough choices, Joe, to use our ferry tickets, or not to use our ferry tickets, that is always the question. The dyed blonde has a better figure than the brunette, but the brunette owns a house."
Joe: "Stop! My head is spinning! Real blonde versus ferry tickets, good figure versus a house....I never thought I'd have so many choices."
Sally: "I told you, Joe. I can't get you a 10 unless you're a 10, but a 7 with moonlight in a martini, equals a 10. The dyed blonde used to work in a strip club in her youth."
Joe: "I'll take the dyed blonde! Why should I hold her past against her? Everybody's got a past right? So she went a little wrong..."
Sally: "That's right, Joe, and when a woman goes wrong, a man goes right after her."