Fourth Lake, Chapter 12

While having her coffee on Sunday morning, August 4, 1974, Judy recalled the fabulous night before she spent with Phil.  When she finally got out of the lake, she quickly grabbed her clothes laying on the deck and scurried into the cottage, with her husband close behind.  Once inside behind locked doors, the two of them let their imaginations run wild.  Judy slept well and woke up snuggling next to her husband.

For some strange, unexplainable reason, Judy started to feel a kind of an urge to go to church this Sunday morning.  Growing up in Queens, her parents had never been very religious.  The family was nominally Christian and celebrated Christmas and Easter.  She remembered going to church services a few times on Christmas Eve, but never on a regular basis nor at the same church.  Judy believed in Jesus Christ, in God, but it was not a big, important deal for her.  Or to Phil, either.  They were raising their children the same way.

“Say, Phil, let’s go to church today.

“What?  Are you serious?”

“Yeah.  I think it would be nice to go to that white church on the other side of Fourth Lake we rode to in the canoe.  I think I would feel kind of serene being there.  I’m sure there’s a service this morning.”

“You’re not suggesting we go in a canoe, are you?”

“No, silly, in our car.”

So Judy and Phil got in their car and headed around towards the white church on the other side of Fourth Lake.  They passed through Inlet and then followed the road towards Eagle Bay.  There was almost no traffic.  However, there was one stop sign in Eagle Bay.  After they came to a complete stop, a car, a big black Cadillac, turned right from a side street and drove past them back toward Inlet.  When it passed, Judy turned and looked at Phil who was driving their car.  At that very instant, she got a quick look at the driver of the other car.  At first, it didn’t register in her mind.  But then when she turned back to look straight ahead, it hit her.  It was the same man she saw in Billy’s Restaurant in Old Forge on Friday... she thought.  It was somebody she knew, but couldn’t remember whom it was.  Judy quickly turned around to look back, but the car was too far away to see anything.

“Did you see that car we just passed?”  she asked.

“What car?”

“The car that...oh, never mind.”

As they arrived at the white church on the lake, a number of others had arrived as well.  The service was just about to begin.  It was perfect timing.  Pure luck on the part of Phil and Judy.

They sat on a bench near the rear of the small, beautiful old church.  Besides the ritual prayers from the Bible, the minister, a short, thin man in his 60s, talked about love: love of God, love of nature, love of our fellow man.  It was a beautiful service which lasted about an hour.  Judy was right.  The service did relax her.  When it was over, the minister walked to the front door of the church to greet everybody as they left.  When it was their turn, Judy introduced herself and Phil and commented on how much they had enjoyed the service.  The minister realized they were new to the church and was very welcoming.  He said he hoped they would come again.  The three of them made small talk until Judy excused themselves so the minister could talk to the next couple in line.

Before returning to their car, at Judy’s request they walked to the shore line to gaze out over Fourth Lake.  It wasn’t too far away from where they had landed a few days earlier in their rented canoe.  They chatted a little about that day, what they each remembered.  Again, they had a good view of Dollar Island, this time from ground level.  Judy started rolling around in her head a plan for them to get there.  A week from today, the 11th, they would have to leave their cottage to pick up their two daughters at gymnastics camp and then drive back home to Little Neck.  To Judy, time was running out on this, perhaps the final adventure of her trip to Fourth Lake.      

Christmas

Growing up as a Jew in America, Christmas was a strange time for me.  All my friends were Christians who happily celebrated Christmas.  It seemed to be a wonderful holiday.  People exchanged gifts.  People were nicer to each other than at any other time of the year.  Christmas was part of the culture of my country.  Bing Crosby sang, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.”  There were movies about Christmas like “It Was a Wonderful Life,” with James Stewart and “A Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street,” with Maureen O’Hara.  It was a federal holiday (a day off from school) in a country that ascribed to the separation of church and state.

However, at the house where I grew up, Christmas was forbidden.  No Christmas presents.  No Christmas tree.  Santa Claus didn’t exist.  We were Jews who didn’t recognize that the birth of the baby Jesus had led, according to Christians, to the arrival of the Messiah.  I was taught to be always on guard to avoid being tricked into converting to Christianity.  The conflict between inside and outside of my house confused me.  In those days, there was an added problem as our public school engaged in Christmas rituals.  I remember singing the Christmas Carol, “Silent Night, Holy Night,” along with my classmates. 

After my bar mitzvah in 1958, I became less and less of an observant Jew.    I was especially mortified when I read the Old Testament story of how God asked Abraham, the first Jew, to kill his son, Isaac.  It was a test of how devoted Abraham was to God, who thankfully stopped Abraham at the last second.  After all, it was only a test.  I hate to say out loud what I would have said to someone who asked me to kill my son as a test of my faith in God.  However, I did make sure that my children received at least a minimal Jewish education, my son a circumcision, and both had a bar/bat mitzvah.  I also became less and less a believer in the existence of God.  As Voltaire said, “If God didn’t exist, it would be necessary to invent him.”

From a study of religion, I have sensed a difference between the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament of the Bible.  The God of the Old seemed to be of fire and brimstone, full of fury.  When the Hebrews arrived in Israel forty years after fleeing Egypt, there were people already there, the Canaanites.  The God of the Old Testament ordered that the Jews should eliminate, by the sword, every living thing within the walled city of Jericho.  These Canaanites had not attempted any armed aggression against the Jews.  What did they do to deserve this violent death?  Unfortunately for them, they were occupying land God had promised to the Jewish people.

The God of the New Testament seemed to be more about love.  Love thy neighbor.  Love thy enemy.  Turn the other cheek.  My favorite quote is from John 8:7, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone.”  I love that message.

This coming Friday, December 25, millions around the world will celebrate Christmas.  To one and all, especially my wife, Cristina, Merry Christmas and Feliz Natal.      

Muslims Coming to America

The famous quote from Emma Lazarus on the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor reads, "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door."  Except now, many American people and politicians are advocating a caveat: no Muslims need apply.

Why is that?  Because of Al Qaeda, the Islamic State, and other terrorist groups that act out violently against the American people and claim to speak in the name of Islam.  We will never forget September the 11th, the Boston Marathon, Fort Hood, and the recent event in San Bernardino, California, among others.  These American people and politicians believe, as the Islamic State also believes, that there is a war going on between Islam and the West.  Therefore, according to their belief system, all Muslims are the enemy.  Therefore, we should keep them all out of our country.

In order to support such an idea, Donald Trump, a Republican candidate for president, recently invoked, as a precedent, the decision of Franklin Delano Roosevelt during World War II to place tens of thousands of American citizens of Japanese ancestry in concentration camps.  This inspite of the fact that not one single act of sabotage was committed against the USA by any one of these American citizens.  This decision was one of the most shameful enacted by any US president.  But, Donald Trump seems to like it.

This anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim hysteria is not a new circumstance in the history of the United States.  One hundred years ago, more or less, it was the Italian immigrants that greatly concerned some American people and politicians.  A number of such immigrants were violent anarchists (for example, Sacco and Vanzetti) and gangsters (for example, Al Capone).  They were responsible for the murders of many Americans.  As a result, there were a number of protests against the Italian immigrant.  Should the US government have used these violent acts as an excuse to bar all Italians from entering our country?  I'm glad we didn't.  Yesterday was the 100th birthday of Frank Sinatra, a son of Italian immigrants.

In 1891, nine Italian immigrants were tried for the murder of the New Orleans Police Chief.  In spite of the fact that they were found not guilty in a state court of law, a mob dragged them from their jail cells and lynched them.  A newspaper editorial the next day stated that the "Lynch law was the only course open to the people of New Orleans."  In 1911, the governor of Louisiana stated that Italians were, "filthier (than Blacks), in (their) habits, lawless, and treacherous."  It's difficult today to imagine such blatant anti-Italian prejudice so openly expressed.

In 1924, US Congressman Grant Hudson said, "Now, what do we find in all our large cities?  Entire sections containing a population incapable of understanding our institutions, with no comprehension of our national ideals, and for the most part incapable of speaking the English language.  Foreign language information service gives evidence that many southern Europeans resent as an unjust discrimation the quota laws and represent America as showing race hatred."  Hudson, of course, believed that America needed to protect itself from a foreign enemy.

Let us Americans act, not out of fear and hate, but with reason and compassion towards the current flow of Muslim immigrants who are, after all, only part of the same continuous flow of immigrants who have been coming to our shores since the beginning of our nation.  I believe, like the Italian before them, that nearly all of such Muslim immigrants merely want what America offers, a land of opportunity and the freedoms guaranteed in our Bill of Rights.  A good example is Abdulfattah Jandali, an immigrant from Syria, who is the biological father of Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple, Inc.                  

Hombre

In English, the Spanish word, “hombre,” means “man.”   The 1967 Western movie, Hombre, was directed by Martin Ritt and starred Paul Newman, Frederick March, Richard Boone, Martin Balsam, and Diane Cilento.  I consider it to be one of the best Westerns, in the same category as High Noon (Gary Cooper), Shane (Alan Ladd), The Searchers (John Wayne), The Ox-Bow Incident (Henry Fonda), and Unforgiven (Clint Eastwood).  Perhaps the title derives from whether the protaganist fulfills someone’s definition of what it means to act like a man.

Newman (the protaganist) portrays a white man, John Russell, who was raised by and lives with Apaches on their reservation in Arizona.  When his biological father dies, he inherits a boarding house.  Russell decides to sell it and use the proceeds to buy some horses which would improve the quality of life of his chosen people.  To do this, he finds himself travelling on a stagecoach with six other passengers, Dr. Favor (March) and his wife, Cicero Grimes (Boone), Jessie (Cilento – the former caretaker of the boarding house Russell inherited and sold), and a young couple.  Balsam portrays the stagecoach driver, Henry Mendez.

Dr. Favor is the government Indian Agent for the reservation where Russell lives and works for the police.  However, dressed as a white man for a change, Dr. Favor and his wife do not recognize Russell.  When he reveals his identity, they don’t want him riding inside the coach with them, preferring that he ride on top with Mendez.  None of the other passengers objects to this prejudicial treatment. 

Unknown to Russell and some of the others, the Favors are running away with the money they stole from the Apaches which had been allocated by the Federal government.  However, that fact was not unknown to Grimes who has organized a gang to steal the stolen money from the Favors.  When Grimes’s four associates hold up the stagecoach, the five of them take the money and Favor’s wife as a hostage.  However, with a hidden gun, Russell kills two of the gang, recovers the money that he intends to return to the Apaches, but not Favor’s wife, carefully guarded by Grimes.  Russell flees from the three outlaws along with Dr. Favor, Jessie, Mendez, and the young couple.

Grimes and his remaining two associates trail after Russell and company to steal back the money.  They offer to exchange Favor’s wife for it.  However, Russell knows that, once an exchange is made, Grimes will kill them all.  Thus, they have nothing to gain by accepting his offer.  To pressure Russell and the others, Grimes places the woman out in the open in the hot sun, tied down, pleading for her husband to help her.  Dr. Favor hears her cries, but does nothing.  Nobody does anything until Jessie, who expresses a sense of common morality, goads Russell into making an attempt to save the woman, at the risk of his own life.  He must prove if he is the hombre or not.

I read a story on the Internet that six years later (1973), Newman tried to persuade Boone to join him in the making of the very successful film, The Sting, to play Doyle Lonnegan, the crime boss.   The director, George Roy Hill, wanted him as well.  Boone turned them down apparently because of script concerns and the part went to Robert Shaw.    

There is a scene midway through Hombre, before the stagecoach holdup takes place, when Grimes (Boone) confronts Mendez (Balsam) in a hostile manner about why he has changed the route of the trip.  The change was made at the suggestion of Dr. Favor because he suspected they were going to be robbed along the original route.  A good guess!  Grimes was angry about the change because it affected his plans for the robbery.  It had already been established at this point of the movie that Grimes is the villain.  Earlier, he threatens to kill a man if he does not give him his ticket for the stagecoach.  On the other hand, Mendez is shown to be honest and hard working.

Nine years earlier, in 1958, the same two actors, Richard Boone and Martin Balsam, were in a similar situation, face to face, in a dramatic scene, except under opposite  circumstances.  It was the first episode of the second season of the very successful and popular TV series, Have Gun Will Travel.  Boone portrays Paladin, the tough, sophisticated and highly-principled man for hire.  Balsam is the guest star for this episode called “The Manhunter.”  (He returned to Have Gun Will Travel two years later, in Season 4, episode 5, “Saturday Night,” as a corrupt lawman.) 

Balsam’s character, Charlie Dawes, seeks revenge against Paladin because he killed his brother.  Dawes’ brother, accused of murder, had run away from the law.  The family of the murder victim hired Paladin to find him and bring him in to stand trial.  Paladin finds the brother, but kills him in self defense.  Paladin brings the body of the brother back to his home town for burial.  Charlie can not accept his brother’s death.  In the climactic scene of this episode, it is Paladin, the hero, facing Dawes, the villain, the reversal of their roles in Hombre.  I must never forget they are actors playing a role.

Boone and Balsam were both born in the second half of the second decade of the Twentieth Century.  Boone was born in Los Angeles and Balsam in New York City.  Both of their mothers were Jewish.  Another thing they had in common was a desire to study acting.  Boone used the G.I. Bill after World War II to enter the Actors Studio in New York City.  Balsam, also a veteran, studied first at the Dramatic Workshop of The New School (also in New York City) before later transfering to the Actors Studio, as well.  Therefore, it is very likely that Boone and Balsam knew each other during that time in the late 1940s.

Boone made his movie debut with the 1951 World War II picture, Halls of Montezuma, with Richard Widmark.  Balsam appeared in the 1954 acclaimed film, On the Waterfront, with Marlon Brando and Eva Marie Saint.  Karl Malden, another student at the Actors Studio, was in both films.

I greatly admire actors.  It is uncanny to me how they can preform in a story as someone they are not, to be able to emote, to be able to convince you that for the moment they are who they pretend to be.  I especially admire actors such as Boone and Balsam, who can move back and forth and play different types of characters.  For example, Cary Grant and John Wayne could never be the bad guys.  Their images were always the same and they wanted to keep it that way.  On the other hand, actors like Robert Mitchum (1962) and Robert De Niro (1991) could portray both good guy and bad guy.  The two actually played the same character, Max Cady, a villain, in two different film versions of the same story, Cape Fear.     

  

 

 

 

Fourth Lake, Chapter 11

As Saturday, August 3, 1974, started out to be a really hot day, both Phil and Judy jumped into Fourth Lake for a swim as soon as they thought they had digested their breakfast.  The water was cool and refreshing.  They almost didn’t want to come out.  Judy couldn’t keep her hand off Phil, wanting to put her arms around him and kiss him many times.  She felt sexy wearing only a small bikini with most of her body exposed to the air and water.  She wanted to express her sensual and romantic feelings towards her husband.

When they finally came out of the water, Phil wrapped Judy up in a large beach towel to dry her off.  He gave her a big kiss as they were standing face to face.  They laid down on their deck chairs to relax.

After a light lunch of chicken salad and lemonaid, Phil suggested that they should finally use the bar-b-que that was on the deck in order to cook their dinner.  They hadn’t used it as yet.  Judy suggested hot dogs and hamburgers.  Phil agreed.  He also said he would drive to the grocery store to buy what they needed.  Judy adamantly said that she would go in his stead, alone.  Phil agreed.  He really did not want to run into May again.

As Judy was driving the short distance to the Inlet grocery store, she was hoping that May would be on duty.  She was still angry from two days ago when she heard May brazenly call out to her husband, “Hi, handsome.”  Judy wanted to tell her to leave her husband alone.  She wanted to protect what was hers.  When she entered the store, Judy was happy to see that May was indeed there working at the cash register.

Judy took a wagon and filled it with hot dogs, hamburgers, buns, mustard, ketchup, potato chips, cole slaw, beer (domestic and imported) and a large bag of charcoal briquettes.  When she arrived at the check out, she glared at May, who just smiled a cocky smile back at her.  May started entering Judy’s purchases in the cash register.  After she finished, Judy politely asked May to help her carry her bags to the car, which she agreed to do, since there were no customers waiting in line. 

After putting all the bags in the car, Judy asked, “Do you call every man you see, handsome?”

“No.  Only the handsome ones, like your husband.”

“Are you married?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m looking around.”

“Why don’t you look somewhere else.”

“I look where I want.  What are you going to do about it?”

Judy immediately punched May as hard as she could in her solar plexus.  May doubled over in pain, her mouth wide open, gasping for air.  Judy then grabbed a hunk of May’s short hair with her left hand to pull her up straight again.  Their faces were inches apart.  Virtually, nose to nose. 

“If you want some more, let me know.”

Judy gave her a slight shove backwards with both hands and waited for some response.  But, May just looked stunned.  Judy got into her car and drove away.

Phil cooked dinner on the deck.  Judy had a ravenous appetite, downing two hot dogs, a hamburger and a couple cans of beers.  She was a hungry tigress.  Afterwards, Judy was still aglow from her triumph at the grocery store which she did not mention to Phil.  She felt confident and full of bravado.  In other words, invincible! 

Judy and Phil watched the sun set from their deck chairs.  Eventually, she slid over and lay next to her husband on his chair with her head resting on his chest.  Later, when she thought it was dark enough, Judy got up and walked over to the edge of the deck, turned towards Phil and adtroitly stripped off her tank top, shorts, and panties.

“Come on, Phil, let’s go skinny dipping.”

“Are you crazy?” 

After diving into the Lake, Judy said, “Don’t be afraid.  Have some courage!  The water is still warm.  It’ll be fun.  Don’t be a sissy.”

Phil looked around and couldn’t see anybody.  He went over to the edge and tried to grab Judy’s arm as she was tredding water nearby. 

“Get out of there now,”  he shouted in a kind of loud whisper. 

She avoided his reach and splashed water in his face. 

“You try that again and I’ll pull you in with all your clothes on.  Come on in.  Be brave!”

Phil looked around again and saw nothing.  He stripped down to his underpants and dove in the water.  When he came up, Judy had disappeared.  Then he realized that she was under the surface trying to make him completely naked.  After a brief struggle, she succeeded.  Phil finally started to relax and they both frolicked in the water for some time, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

They didn’t realize that next door Joe Williams was straining through his binoculars to catch a glimpse of the naked pair, especially Judy.  Not only Joe, but his hunting buddy, Mitch Riley, was trying to share this golden opportunity as well.  It was fortuitous that Joe had invited him over for some beer and baseball on TV.  While Judy and Phil were in the water, they were fairly safe from prying eyes, but the two voyeurs next door were waiting for the inevitable moment when Judy would have to get out of Fourth Lake. 

 

JFK

Early in September 1960, I was with my family in a Boston hotel lobby when U.S. Senator John F. Kennedy, the Democratic Candidate for President of the United States, walked through it on his way out.  On October 30, 1963, I was in the upper level of Convention Hall in Philadelphia to hear a speech given by President John F. Kennedy to a group of local members of the Democratic Party at a fund raising dinner.  I remember all the invited guests on the lower level of the Hall wore tuxedos.  The public sat up above and had to provide their own food and drink.

A little before 2 PM on Friday, November 22, 1963 (fifty-two years ago today), I walked into my freshman English class in College Hall at the University of Pennsylvania.  Before the professor arrived to begin the class, one of my fellow students walked in with a transistor radio which was broadcasting the news.  He proclaimed that Kennedy had been shot in Dallas.  I remember my crazy first reaction was “What was he doing in Dallas?”  We all, now including the professor, sat glued to our seats until we heard the official notification from the radio announcer that the President was dead.  The professor then cancelled class and left.  I returned to my freshman dorm and a weekend all Americans alive at the time will never forget.

The thing I remember most about JFK, besides the Cuban Missle Crisis, was his sense of humor, which was excellent.  He was the first president to have live regularly scheduled news conferences which I occasionally got to watch on TV.  There were 64 of them during his presidency which lasted 1,037 days, an average of one every 16 days.  JFK was glib and, whenever he could, he would elicit some laughter from the assembled journalists, usually of the self-deprecating kind.   

As I did not have easy access to a TV, most of my recollections from those tragic days in November of 1963 were from radio and newspapers.  I didn’t see Lee Harvey Oswald, the arrested and accused assassin, shot to death by Jack Ruby in the Dallas police station, live on television.  We Americans, after having been punched in the stomach, were all in a sort of trance, sleepwalking from moment to moment, incredulous of what had happened to us as a nation.  How would we get past this?  Many of my colleagues didn’t know much about who was the new president (Lyndon Baines Johnson) and few had any confidence in him. 

The thing that sticks most in my mind from that weekend was going to Franklin Field on my college campus to watch the home town Eagles play a football game against the Washington NFL franchise, the two worst teams in its Eastern Conference.  Unlike every other sporting event that weekend, the NFL decided not to cancel its games that Sunday, two days after President Kennedy had been assassinated.  It was an extremely controversial decision.  As I had previously purchased a ticket and did not want to lose my investment, I along with 60,670 others entered the stadium to witness a meaningless game.  In a gesture to attempt to satisfy their critics, the NFL decided not to telecast any of its games as was normally the case.  Besides, most Americans were too busy watching the continuous news coverage of the assassination. 

While I was waiting for the game to begin, I heard some of my fellow football fans in the stadium talk about the assassination of Oswald.  Years later, I would be able to watch a vídeo of this second killing for myself.  Before the game started, someone sang the Star Spangled Banner and virtually the entire assembled mass joined in.  It was a very moving experience.  Oh, by the way, the Eagles lost the game.

Over the years, there has been a lingering doubt about who exactly killed President John F. Kennedy.  Was it really Oswald?  And if so, was he part of a conspiracy?  After extensive reading on the subject, including the Warren Commission Report (the President’s Commission on the Assassination of President Kennedy), it is my opinion that Lee Harvey Oswald was the one and only assassin. 

First, there is scientific evidence that Oswald fired the shots that killed JFK from the sixth floor of the former Texas School Book Depository building.  By luck, he had found a job working in the building a few months before JFK’s plan to go to Dallas was arranged.  By mail order, Oswald purchased the gun that was found at the site.  The route of the presidential motorcade through downtown Dallas was well advertised in the local media.  It was a lucky break for Oswald.  He had his opportunity. 

Second, why did he do it?  Oswald was somebody raised in a completely disfunctional family and who had very low self-esteem.  Because of this, he was desperate to make a name for himself by doing something noteworth, such as killing somebody famous.  In April of 1963, Oswald attempted to assassinate General Edwin A. Walker, a controversial, right-wing public figure, but failed.  Unfortunately, his second assassination attempt was a success. 

Third, was there a conspiracy?  For there to have been a conspiracy, it would have required Oswald to engage in detailed planning with one or more others.  This would have been highly unlikely because Oswald was a loner, a person who was alienated from his family and had no apparent friends or associates.  The only person who he was close to in his life was his Russian-born wife, Marina.  The idea that he would cooperate with others in such an activity as assassinating a president was to not understand who Oswald was.  Thus, in my opinion, there was no conspiracy.

Just as we can only imagine how the course of history (Reconstruction in the South) would have been different had President Abraham Lincoln not been assassinated by John Wilkes Booth on April 14, 1865, we also can only imagine how history (for example, Vietnam) would have been different had JFK not been assassinated on November 22, 1963.

That was a day that many said America lost its innocence.  It seems to me that prior to that day, America admired the hero.  After that day, we saw the world from a different perspective and started admiring the anti-hero.  As example, in the culture of the 1950s, we admired Eliot Ness, the federal government agent who fought the Mafia as portrayed by the actor, Robert Stack, on the TV series, The Untouchables.  In the culture of the 1970s, we admired Michael Corleone, head of a crime family as portrayed by the actor, Al Pacino, in the hit movie, The Godfather.  More than JFK died that day in 1963.        

Immigration

In the televised debate of November the 10th, US Senator Ted Cruz, a Republican candidate for President of the United States, “suggested donors were tone-deaf on the issue (of immigration) because they did not appreciate the economic impact” of what he claimed was illegal immigrants’ pushing down of American wages. “The politics of it would be very, very different if a bunch of lawyers or bankers were crossing the Rio Grande,” he said, adding that the news coverage would also differ if undocumented immigrants were seeking journalism jobs.  “Then we would see stories about the economic calamity that is befalling our nation,” he said.

To suggest that lawyers, bankers or journalists would cross the Rio Grande in search of jobs is to misunderstand the nature of what those Latin Americans are trying to do while risking their lives attempting to enter the United States illegally.  A person risks their life in such circumstances when they are desperate, when to do nothing is to doom themselves and their family to a life of hopelessness and misery.  My grandparents did something similar when they left Russia about one hundred and ten years ago.  The only difference is that in 1904, there was no such thing as an illegal immigrant.  Any healthy person was welcome because the USA was very much in need of bodies to fill the vacancies in the factories that Americans couldn’t fill.  But, later the US government changed the law. 

If a Mexican lawyer, a Guatemalan banker, or an El Salvadoran journalist wanted to live and work in the USA, they would not have to wade across the Rio Grande.  Instead, they could try to find an American law firm, bank or media company who would assist them in getting a job plus a work visa that would give them legal status.  However, very few such lawyers, bankers, or journalists want to come to the USA in the first place because they have work in their own countries.  The problem of the illegal immigrants is that they have no jobs in their own country and no prospects for getting one.  They are poorly educated people with few skills to offer an employer. 

However, what the illegal immigrants do have is a willingness to do just about any kind of work, something that few Americans are willing to do, even in a state of joblessness.  They cross the Rio Grande at great personal risk because there are jobs in the USA that go begging to be filled because no Americans are willing to fill them.  If Americans would do those jobs, if there were no vacancies, there would be no incentive for the illegals to come.  Illegals are not stealing jobs from Americans and, by implication, driving down wages for American workers.  They are instead providing services to the American economy that are being unfulfilled.   

It is said that the USA is a country of laws, where the rule of law must prevail, where the law must be enforced, including laws applicable to illegal immigration.  It is said that to give amnesty to those illegals who are already in the USA would be to encourage more to come.  When President George W. Bush commuted the prison sentence of Lewis “Scooter” Libby, the Chief of Staff to Vice President Dick Cheney, who was convicted of perjury, did he encourage others to commit perjury? 

There is an expression that if one man breaks a law, you put him in jail.  If everybody breaks a law, you change the law.  There are an estimated 11,000,000 people in the USA who have broken the immigration laws. 

Laws are changed all the time, especially when there is a combined desire by both the executive and legislative branches to do so.  At the state level, there has been successful efforts recently to change the laws regarding abortion and voter identification.  I say it is also time to change a law that serves only to deny a select group of immigrants (those south of the Rio Grande) from realizing a better life for their families and who, instead of creating an economic calamity, are improving the quality of the American economy.            

Jim Fixx

Jim Fixx changed my life, perhaps more than anyone did that I never met.  I will be forever grateful. 

At age 35, Jim was very overweight at 240 pounds (110 KG.) and smoked two packs of cigarettes per day.  He started running to lose weight and gain a healthier lifestyle.  In 1977, Jim published his fourth book, The Complete Book of Running.  (The previous  three were collections of puzzles).  It was number one on the best seller list for eleven straight weeks.  The book sold over a million copies, one of them to me.  By then, Jim had lost 60 pounds (27 KG.) and had given up smoking.  He extolled the health benefits of running and how he believed that it considerably increased an average person’s life expectancy.  Running also increased a runner’s self-esteem, helping them acquire a runner’s “high,” and worked to help them to better cope with stress.  Fixx is credited with helping to start America's fitness revolution and to popularize the sport of running.  The millions you see running on the streets of America today are there because of something Jim Fixx started.     

I bought my copy of Jim’s book with some reservations.  I had read how another author, James Michner, in his book, Sports in America, had taken up running to deal with his health problems, but that he personally hated it.  He found it boring.  However, I found it to be exhilarating.

Before I started running, I was 32 years-old and out of shape.  If I had to run for a bus, I would be completely out of breath before I arrived.  I followed Fixx’s directions for getting started and was amazed at how quickly it worked.  I discovered, as he said, that the human body is like a rubber band.  The more you stretch it, the more it expands.  In less than a week I was able to run a mile without stopping.  I continued running for ten years until I had to stop because of my bad knees. 

I used to run six days a week, rising during the week at 5 AM for a thirty minute run, winter, spring, summer and fall.  The weekends were for an hour.  I collected tee shirts as souvenirs from the 10K races I participated in.  I remember one time in Washington, I ran from my hotel near the Capital past the Lincoln Memorial into the Commonwealth of Virgina and back.  Another time, visiting my home town of Oswego, New York, I ran retracing my steps of walking from my grade school (Fitzhugh Park School) to my home (30 East Oneida Street) when I was a little boy.       

It’s been almost thirty years since I had to stop running, but I still miss doing it.  However, it got me into the exercise habit which I still maintain.  I think my running was also a good example for both of my children who grew up involved in physical activities (gymnastics, tennis, baseball, and basketball) and continued their regimen into adulthood.    

Sadly, Jim Fixx died of a heart attack at 52 years of age in July of 1984, ironically while running near his home in Vermont.  Besides his early history of being overweight and a smoker, Jim probably had a predisposition to heart disease.  His father died of a heart attack at 43 years of age.  Jim used to say that if you could run a marathon, you were immune to heart disease.  He ran many.  However, Jim underestimated the affect of diet on health and longevity.  He liked to eat donuts for breakfast.  I stopped that bad habit.     

 

Sunset Boulevard

A few years ago, my wife, Cristina, encouraged me to re-write an unpublished manuscript of mine into the screenplay format.  She thought it would work better as a movie than as a novel.  I think she was correct.  I called it Best of Intentions.  Unfortunately, nobody to date wants to produce it.

That reminds me of Joe Gillis and the 1950 Billy Wilder movie, Sunset Boulevard.  You see, Joe Gillis, the protaganist played by William Holden (nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actor, but lost to Jose Ferrer in Cyrano de Bergerac), was a Hollywood screenwriter (like me, sort of).

There is a line in Sunset Boulevard where Joe says that, “Audiences don’t know that somebody sits down and writes a picture.  They think the actors make it up as they go along.”  Wrong!  Actually, a film starts, just as Joe said, when the screenwriter sits down and writes the movie, with dialogue, location descriptions, and action.  That’s called a screenplay and without one, there is no movie.  Of course, a producer, a director, or an actor may change the screenplay (and often do), but the starting point is the screenplay.

Sunset Boulevard is the story of a young, struggling Hollywood screenwriter (Joe Gillis) down on his luck.  He’s out of work and owes three months back rent plus three payments on his car.  The finance company is fed up and wants their car back.  Joe’s desperate to keep it.  By chance, while fleeing from finance company operatives, he gets a flat tire and parks his car in the garage adjacent to a mansion he was driving by on Sunset Boulevard.  It turns out to be the home of a silent film star, Norma Desmond (played ironically by silent film star, Gloria Swanson, who was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Actress, but lost to Judy Holiday in Born Yesterday).

There is a great piece of dialogue when Joe recognizes her.  “Wait a minute.  Haven’t I seen you before?  I know your face.  You’re Norma Desmond.  You used to be in silent pictures.  You used to be big.” 

Norma’s classic response:  “I am big.  It’s the pictures that got small.”

When Norma discovers that Joe is a screenwriter, she hires him to edit a screenplay she has written (Salome) which she hopes will be the vehicle for her return to starring in films, something she desperately wants.  She falsely believes she is still a big star, that her fans still want to see her again, even though she hasn’t made a picture in more than twenty years.  In reality, the public and the movie studios have forgotten all about her.  As Joe said, Norma’s been given the “go by.”

In the beginning, their relationship works for both of them.  Joe needs a job and Norma needs help with her script.  However, it starts to become suffocating for Joe as he is forced to live in her mansion and does not have a car or any money to come and go as he pleases and have a life of his own.  Then Joe starts to notice that Norma has become increasingly fond of him, even though she is old enough to be his mother.  She buys him expensive clothes and re-opens her swimming pool to please him. 

It all comes to a head at their New Years Eve party when she hires a small orchestra so they can dance the tango on the marble floor of her mansion.  She has invited no one else as she does not want to share Joe with anyone.  He accuses her of taking him for granted, that perhaps he has a girlfriend (which he doesn’t).  He wants to be with people his own age, to hear music and laughter again.  Norma expresses her love for Joe and is deeply hurt that it is not reciprocated. 

Joe:  “What I’m trying to say is that I’m all wrong for you.  You want a Valentino...A big shot.”

Norma:  “What you’re trying to say is that you don’t want me to love you.  Say it.  Say it.”

Joe’s lack of a response hurts Norma so much that she slaps him across the face and runs to her bedroom.  Thereupon, he leaves Norma’s mansion and goes to a friend’s (Artie played by Jack Webb) much more modest home where another much more lively New Years Eve party is going on.  There, he runs into a studio script reader (Betty played by Nancy Olson, who was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress, but lost to Josephine Hull in Harvey) he knows.  They exchange screenwriting ideas which stimulates his enthusiasm to return to his former life. 

Because of all that happened that night, Joe plans a complete break with Norma and calls the mansion to ask her valet (Max played by Erich Von Stroheim, who was nominated for the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor, but lost to George Sanders in All About Eve) to pack up all his belongings.  Max said he can do nothing for Joe as a doctor was at the mansion dealing with Norma’s most recent suicide attempt.

Joe’s life hangs in the balance at this moment.  What should he do?  Should he return to Norma (and be her kept man), foresaking a more normal life?  Or should he return to his former life where he was unemployed, but would be with his old friends and former work colleagues and perhaps find love with someone of his own age.  I think you will find his choice and what it leads to both interesting and entertaining.  Please see Sunset Boulevard and let me know what you think. 

You should know that Sunset Boulevard was nominated for eleven Academy Awards, including Best Motion Picture (lost to All About Eve) and Best Director (Billy Wilder lost to Joseph L. Mankiewics for All About Eve).  It did win three Oscars:  Best Writing, Story and Screenplay (Charles Brackett, D. M. Marshman, Jr., and Billy Wilder), Best Art Direction-Set Direction (black and white film), and Best Music (Franz Waxman). 

One final note:  Sunset Boulevard has one of the best last lines of a movie when Norma (looking directly into the camera) says, “All right, Mr. DeMille.  I’m ready for my close-up.”      

Fourth Lake, Chapter 10

On Friday, August 2, 1974, both Judy and Phil were feeling the affects of “cabin fever.”  They needed to get away from their cottage, Inlet, and Fourth Lake.  They had been there for five straight days and needed a break.  It was beautiful, but they wanted a change of scenery.  It wasn’t necessary to leave the Adirondacks, but they figured it would be a good idea to be somewhere else for at least a few hours.  The Hamlet of Old Forge, a community larger than Inlet, was about ten miles down Route 28, a two lane road thick with trees on both of its sides.  Judy and Phil would have lunch and hang out in Old Forge for the afternoon. 

While driving there, they heard another Watergate report on the car radio.  Jerry Warren at a  White House briefing was quoted as saying that, “You would have to put the President in the role of underdog.  We face an uphill struggle, but in a political struggle you have a chance to win.”  He also announced that the President along with his family was going to Camp David for the weekend.  Ironically, the person for whom the presidential getaway was named was among the family making the short trip from the White House.  Phil and Judy welcomed a respite from Watergate news as a result.

Joe Williams had recommended Billy’s Restaurant as the best place to eat in Old Forge.  When they went to his cottage for some Old Forge information, Phil noticed how Joe looked at Judy.  Maybe he should be jealous.  After all, his wife was a very beautiful woman.  And Joe was a good-looking, young guy.  So! 

Phil and Judy arrived at the restaurant a little after 1:30 PM with their reserved table waiting for them.  She ordered the shrimp scampi, while he chose the veal parmagiana.  A house salad plus bread was included for both.  They shared a bottle of New York State white wine.  While Phil had a slice of apple pie for dessert, Judy finished her lunch with a cup of coffee.

After he finished the pie, Phil went to the men’s room, leaving Judy alone at their table to enjoy the view of First Lake from the large picture window by their table which was in the front of the restaurant.  It was a beautiful afternoon and there were definitely more people moving about the streets of Old Forge than had been the case in Inlet.  It was not nearly such an isolated community.  It seemed to attract more tourists. 

After some minutes of wondering what had become of her husband, Judy turned her head toward where Phil had gone and saw him approaching.  Then for an instant, just over Phil’s left shoulder, she thought she saw someone leaving the men’s room whom she thought she recognized.  But then she lost her concentration about whom it was when Phil arrived at their table and resumed his seat next to her.

After relaxing for some minutes, and then paying the check, Phil and Judy left Billy’s Restaurant and went for a walk near the Lake.  They found a bench to sit on and admire the view.  They held hands and gently kissed.  It was just the kind of a romantic setting Judy wanted and needed.  It wasn’t only about making love on a bed that she was looking for. 

Later, they found an ice cream store and bought some cones to take with them.  Phil had two scoops of chocolate, while Judy had only one of strawberry.  Then they decided to go for a boat ride around the Lake that had attracted numerous others as well.  When the sun started to set, Phil and Judy thought it was time to return to their cottage.  They had expunged their “cabin fever.” And when it got dark on the roads in the Adirondacks, it was really dark.  Without your headlights, you would see nothing, absolutely nothing. 

On the way back to their cottage on Fourth Lake, Judy remembered that she thought she saw someone she knew who was behind Phil when he had come out of the men’s room of the restaurant.  If she saw him, Phil must have seen him as well, she thought.

“Phil, did you recognize anyone in the men’s room at the restaurant this afternoon?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I have this strange feeling that when I saw you walking back to the table, there was someone else coming out of the men’s room that I thought I recognized.  Do you remember seeing anybody there?”

“I wasn’t paying any attention to anybody that might have been there.  I did what I had to do and left.  I don’t even remember if there was anybody else in there at the time.  You said that you thought you recognized someone.  You know, memory can be a funny thing.  What are you sure you saw?  Anything?”

“No, I’m not absolutely sure of anything.  But, I have the strangest feeling that I saw someone I know and its driving me a little crazy.  And it was not someone from around here...I think.”

“You think?  Judy, relax.  We had a great day today.  We’re having a great vacation.  Enjoy it and don’t let your mind play tricks on you.”

“Okay, my darling, I’ll try.”

Judy said she’d try.  But that memory would keep coming back and coming back.  It just wouldn’t go away.  It would perplex her until she could remember whom it was.  She was hoping that would happen before they left Fourth Lake. 

Ted

Yesterday, October 17, would have been my brother Ted’s (Edward Brian Lasky) seventy-third birthday.  Sadly, he died four years ago in June of 2011.  He was the third of four boys.  I was the fourth and the youngest.  He was exactly two years, nine months, and three weeks older than I.  Of the four of us, we were the closest in age.  When I was growing up, we spent a lot time together, until he went away to college in the fall of 1960.

My family lived at 30 East Oneida Street until I was eleven.  When my eldest bother, Joel, went away to college in 1950, the second eldest, Paul, moved into Joel’s old bedroom to have more privacy.  That left Ted and me all alone in our bedroom.  I shared a bedroom with him again when we moved to 327 West Seneca Street in 1956. 

When he wanted to, Ted would coax me into being his playmate.  I was always agreeable.  Sometimes when I was playing with my next door neighbor and friend, Butchie, he would coax both of us to join him in some play time activity.  He wasn’t as athletic as Paul who encouraged me to join him in playing baseball or football in the park.  Ted and I would do other activities like mimicing stories we saw either on TV or at the cinema.  He also encouraged me to “fake box” with him like they did in the movies, until one day when he missed and I wound up with a bloody nose.

Back in those halcyon days of the 1950s, there was a tradition of Saturday mornings at the Oswego Theater.  It would include a main feature with Tarzan or Roy Rogers or the like, plus a million cartoons.  Ted and I would often go, by ourselves, along with loads of other kids.  Our mom would invariably give Ted the price of admission for us both.  I guess I was not to be trusted with money.  And Ted always played the same trick on me, saying that Mom had only given him enough for himself and nothing for me.  He told me to get out of line if I had no money.  I would cry begging him to say he had money for me, but he would keep up the charade until the very last moment.  I was a sucker for this “joke” every time.

One time, Ted asked the Theater Manager to bring us up on the stage during one of his live shows during intermission.  He usually asked some kids to participate in some skit.  And one time it was us.  I was so scared to go, but more afraid not to.  And in the skit, I had to let some girl sit on my knee.  It was so embarrassing.

On our way home one time from the theater, we passed by the Police Station on West First Street and Ted insisted that we go in.  He was curious about the jail cells.  I was about 9 and he was 12.  Ted was brazen enough to ask the policeman inside to let us experience being in a jail cell.  He took us in the back, put us in a cell, closed the door, and left.  Ted was thrilled.  I cried.

Speaking of the local police, one time Ted and I were returning home from the dentist in a taxi cab.  A drunken driver hit another car on East Bridge Street and sped away from the scene, right in front of us.  A cop on the sidewalk, jumped in the cab, sat right next to me, and commandeered the cabbie to “follow that car.”  I was scared, but the chase didn’t last long.  Again, Ted was thrilled.

I remember the night we moved to our new house on West Seneca Street in 1956 when Ted and I listened to some programs on the radio, like Gunsmoke and The Lone Ranger.  At 9:30 on Saturday night, September 21, 1957, we watched the second episode of the new series, Have Gun, Will Travel, which starred Richard Boone as Paladin and with a guest star named Charles Bronson.  Since then, I have seen this episode numerous times via Youtube, always thinking of Ted.  We shared a love of Westerns.  His favorite movie was High Noon, which is high on my list, as well.

Lying in bed many a night, Ted provided me with a great deal of unsolicited sex education.  I never asked my parents anything and only my father offered limited advice.  However, Ted was an unstoppable audio source of information.  Regarding women, he was especially infatuated with Asian women.  He had a crush on the Vietnamese-French actress, France Nuyen, who is best known for her work in the film version of the musical, South Pacific.  I remember him referring to that wonderful song from that film, You’ve Got to be Carefully Taught by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II.  Ted collected pictures of her and other Asian actresses and models.  He also had a crush on two non-Asian Sallies from Oswego High, Allen and Kessler.

After graduating, Ted went to Michigan State University in East Lansing.  I remember visiting him there once, staying with him in his dorm room.  It was there at MSU where he met his first wife, Joy, whose best friend, Helaine, had a sister named Bonnie, my first wife.  After I graduated from college, I moved to suburban Detroit, Michigan because Ted was there.  When I married in 1968, Ted was my Best Man.

My first wife and I were living in Queens, New York, when Ted decided to relocate there with his wife and two children in 1972.  He stayed for four years, working at WNBC radio, where he teamed up with among others, the legendary Don Imus.  Ted also introduced me to the famous sportscaster, Marv Albert.  While in New York, he published a trashy novel under the pseudonym, Brian Edwards, using my first name as that of the protaganist.  What an honor! 

After Ted left New York with his family for Florida in 1976 I don’t believe he ever returned.  I was hurt when he did not attend my daughter’s bat mitzvah in 1988, my son’s bar mitzvah in 1998, nor my daughter’s wedding in 2004.  There was always a reason.  And then when I arranged for our mother’s 80th birthday party to be held near his home in Florida in 1987, he chose not to be there as well.

Some time in the 1990s, his girlfriend, Brenda, visited New York City, without Ted.  As a prank, he arranged for Brenda’s twentyish daughter to pretend to be Brenda (whom I had never met nor seen a picture of) when she visited my office.  She was dressed as a young, glamourous doll.  After gullable me accepted this hook, line and sinker, the real Brenda, older and more conservative showed up, a little sheepishly. 

A few years before his death, I visited Ted for the last time at his assisted living facility in Broward County, Florida.  I remember we had lunch in a nearby restaurant and when the waitress arrived, he told her we were brothers, but that he was the “good-looking one.”  This was a line I had heard him use many times.

The day before he died, I told him via his son’s (Jordan’s) cell phone that I loved him.  He said he loved me, too.  Through good times and bad, he was my brother Ted.