Leave a comment Posted on parents, schools, students

There was a special ed teacher who was dressed as a clown—literally.

You read that headline right. I know it’s hard to believe, but I’ll say it again.

I knew I was in trouble when I walked into the classroom and spotted a special education teacher dressed up as a clown.

This is just one bizarre sight I’ve seen in my job as a university supervisor of secondary school student teachers that gives me pause about how far standards have fallen in public schools since I retired four years ago.

When the pandemic forced the temporary closure of schools, officials tiptoed around accountability, treating students with kid gloves for fear of triggering mental health wildfires.

Initially, such a policy of not failing students in 2020 who didn’t turn in work or show up for class seemed compassionate.   But the pandemic has been over for a while now, and returning to normalcy doesn’t have a timetable yet. Students are taking advantage of how the system is babying them and society will pay the price with fewer educated people.

If you read about how high school graduation rates have increased in recent years, don’t believe what you are reading.  Schools are handing out diplomas like flyers shoved underneath cars’ wiper blades.  Diplomas are no longer proof that a student has learned anything.

Parents are assuming their children are productive during the school day, but much of their time in classrooms is wasted.  They would be shocked to see the what’s happening. 

Walk into any classroom and you would be more likely to observe a babysitter not an educator.

Teachers seem paralyzed in monitoring students.  Students and even staff members (see “teacher dressed as a clown”) are doing whatever makes them feel good.

  • Kids arriving to class never once removing the backpack off their shoulders as if ready to exit the class before their seat is even warm.
  • Several wear over the ear headphones or in the ear devices, some cover their full head with hats or hoodies (which hide the devices).
  • A constant flow of kids leaving to use the restroom, transferring the pass to the next one like a baton in a relay race, never once forgetting to bring their phones though frequently forgetting to bring their materials to class. 

And all of this while the teacher is up front delivering a lesson that clearly is not reaching its intended audience.

Once I saw a girl—presto, change-o—pull out a handful of McDonald’s fries out of her bag, pass some to her seatmate, then drop the rest down her mouth without detection of the teacher.  The smell alone was a distraction.  This magic trick occurred when students were reading aloud The Diary of Anne Frank.  How could a student concentrate on this sensitive material when all her brain power is consumed with not getting caught doing something that is wrong? 

When I checked with the student teacher about this matter, his response was “I have to choose my battles.”

If he is willing to overlook this, just what battle is he willing to fight for?

Teachers have waved the white flag in terms of controlling students’ addiction to technology. 

Within seconds of a teacher asking a student to leave her phone alone, her fingers are quickly back touching the device.  One student asked her teacher to take away her phone because she didn’t have enough self-control to do it herself.

Right in front of me a girl was facetiming with another student in another classroom.  That meant two classrooms had students running amok.

Kids using laptops are quite adept at clicking from one screen to a next just as a teacher approaches.  Such flipping behavior scrambles their minds resulting in an inability to focus on school work.

Not helping the situation is that some schools have made it a policy to have bowls of free food such as bananas and cheerios placed near the door so kids can grab something before sitting down, thus encouraging eating during class. One time an adult aide went around and picked up all of their food trash . . . for 10th graders.  Not only do they not have to pay for the food, they also don’t have to clean up after themselves.  What’s going to happen to these kids when they will be on their own?

The one lesson students have learned in recent times is that there are no consequences, ramifications or penalties for disrespecting school—they are in charge of the classroom. 

When I point out to student teachers the importance of setting high expectations and training students to be in learning-mode, I get bewildered looks as if I’m asking them something that they are not only powerless to do, but, worse, disinterested in doing.

To them, I appear as an anachronism dressed in a sports jacket, dress pants and dress shoes, so whatever advice I may pass along disappears after our debriefing; clearly, whatever I have to offer is “old-school.”

For college students thinking about becoming teachers, the first pre-requisite should be to visit a classroom for an hour.  It may open up their eyes NOT to enter the profession.

Based on what I’ve been observing as a university supervisor, I sleep well at night assured that my decision to retire was not pre-mature.

2 Comments Posted on Ella Fitzgerald

Ella, First Lady of Song

I have 1,000 songs on my workout playlist, and the singer that I have the most of is Ella Fitzgerald with 60 tunes.  Ella is my favorite female singer, right behind my favorite male singer, Frank Sinatra.

Author Judith Tick’s new biography, Becoming Fitzgerald, may be the most researched book about the First Lady of Song.  Considering how famous she was, there are few books written about Fitzgerald.  Having read this newest one, I have a better understanding why that’s so.

Fitzgerald was a very private person.  The rare times when she sat down for an interview, the generic responses were often repeated.  She was married only once to the great bassist Ray Brown (an earlier union was annulled), but that lasted only six years.  Her only child, Ray Brown, Jr., was actually her half-sister’s child whom she adopted.

The greatest joy of her life was singing in front of live audiences.  Most years she would be on the road except for a few weeks at home around the holidays.

Born in Newport News, Virginia in 1917, Fitzgerald grew up in Yonkers, New York where after her father left, her mother lived with a new man.  After her mother died from a car accident in 1932 when she was 15, Fitzgerald had problems living with her stepfather resulting in her being placed in an orphanage in Harlem.

At age 17, she went to the Apollo Theatre for an amateur night intending to do a dance routine.  However, she ended up singing instead and won first place.

In 1935, drummer Chick Webb hired Fitzgerald for his jazz orchestra.  She began getting attention recording records, and in 1938, her first big single that she co-wrote, “A-Tisket-a-Tasket” became hugely popular.

One year later, Webb died from spinal tuberculosis at age 34.  Fitzgerald took over the orchestra at age 22, becoming one of the first females to front a band.

What made Fitzgerald unique was the sweet tone in her voice, her range of several octaves and her scatting.   No one can scat like Ella; she truly sounded like an instrument.  And though she was a heavy-set person, her body moved frequently as she sang, exhibiting her enjoyment.

Over the course of the next decade, Fitzgerald had modest success mostly from touring around the country and overseas.  Like Fitzgerald’s contemporaries—Billie Holliday and Sarah Vaughn—no matter how talented a black performer was in the 1930’s, 1940’s or 1950’s, that person had to surpass the best white performer in order to get attention, work and money. 

A game-changer for her was meeting record producer Norman Granz.  Once he became her manager, Granz began his record company Verve with Fitzgerald as his star.  He elevated her from a blues singer to a singer of American standards when in 1956, at age 39, Ella recorded the double-album “Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Cole Porter Song Book.”  This led to several other song book albums that allowed her to sing the classic American popular songs of the 20th century backed with lush arrangements. 

She finally achieved acclaim normally reserved for white entertainers. Imagine how big Fitzgerald would have become if she were born in 1957 instead of 1917. 

Even so, she had to face racism which meant she could only stay at black-only hotels even in the cities where she was headlining. One time in Dallas the police arrested Ella and her fellow musicians.  When they arrived at the police station and recognized who she was, they released her . . . after they asked for an autograph.

Fitzgerald sang with all the great male and female singers of her day.  Sadly, she and Sinatra never recorded an album together.  In fact, the only time both of these titans were in a recording studio was for an animated version of “Finian’s Rainbow” which never got produced.  The song “Necessity” can be heard on YouTube.

They did, however, make two television appearances together on Sinatra’s shows.  In 1959 singing “Can’t We Be Friends” and in 1967 singing “The Lady is a Tramp.”

When Frank Sinatra was convinced to return to Capital Records in 1993 to record the “Duets” album, Ella was the first singer he mentioned that he wanted.  Unfortunately, she was too ill to record the song.

Fitzgerald struggled with Type-2 diabetes and its related health issues in middle age.  First, her eyesight failed requiring thick eyeglasses that she began wearing in her 60’s.  Then, she lost an incredible amount of weight and in her final years had to have help walking on stage. 

In one of her final performances in 1992 for Muhammad Ali’s 50th Birthday Celebration TV special, she appeared frail at age 75; she could barely sing but gave it her all.  Soon thereafter, both of her legs were amputated below the knee.  She died in 1996 at the age of 79.

Luckily, there is a wealth of recordings, both studio and live productions, as well as YouTube videos, available allowing younger people to discover the First Lady of Song.

Two titans of Popular Song: Ella and Frank (1967).

Ella with Oscar Peterson (1961), “Air Mail Special.”

1 Comment Posted on Nancy Sinatra, stereo record player

Ode to a Record Player

As I continue downsizing the stuff in my garage, I came across the compact stereo player I had as a child.

I don’t recall exactly when my parents got me the stereo, but when examining the date of the records and especially the 45’s I still have in my possession, it was in 1966 when I was eight years old.

That stereo was a huge item for me because it meant I didn’t have to use the old cabinet stereo in the living room to play records which was shared by the entire family.  I could play the music I wanted when I wanted to in my bedroom which was actually a den shared with my brother (nine years older than me).

Stereo systems were manufactured in wooden cabinets just like radios.  Then companies produced smaller, portable versions like the one I had.

And mine was a Philco, model no. P-1446-GY, with a 6-transitor stereo amplifier and a 4-speed automatic record changer.

The reason I had a Philco stereo is because my father worked for Philco as a salesman for a short time.  By the way, the name is not for the founders of the company, rather for the city where it was founded, Philadelphia.  The company has long ago gone out of business.

This stereo had four speed settings:  78, 45, 33, 16.  Yes, 16.  I never used that setting which led me to do a bit of research on history of records.

In 1910, shellac records were manufactured to be played at 78 ¼ revolutions per minute (rpm).  Shellac, however, made these 10-inch albums brittle like glass so one had to be careful in handling them.

In 1948, 12-inch vinyl records were produced.  Not only were they more durable than shellac, they provided more content since the speed was cut to 33 1/3 rpm, thus the term long-playing or LP came into use.

In 1949, smaller 7-inch discs were introduced.  With an rpm of 45, they had one song on each side.  Music producers would put the song that had the most hit potential on the A-side and hide an inferior song on the B-side.  Sometimes the B-side song outsold the A-side one.

In 1957, record companies came out with discs that played at 16 2/3 rpm, half the speed of 33’s.  These were mainly for spoken material like book readings or speeches.  This format lasted less than 15 years.

The design of my compact stereo, about the size of a boxy microwave, was genius.  Like a suitcase, there was a latch on top that upon opening would unleash two external speakers that swung out on hinges.  Each speaker could be unhooked from the turntable and placed a few feet away to enhance the stereo separation.  

My stereo was gray and I loved the blue/green color of the speakers’ fabric.  I was so proud to have it that I used a piece of gold-colored carbon paper that imprinted my name on top of it so no one else in the house would forget that it was mine.

To release the turntable required inserting a finger in a small hole to pull it down in an upright position.  

To this day, I still have several of the 45 records my parents bought me that first year in 1966.  Here were some of my purchases:

  • Sonny and Cher’s “The Beat Goes On”
  • The Herman Hermits’ “Leaning on the Lamp Post”
  • Neil Hefti’s “Batman Theme” (for the popular TV series)
  • Sam the Sham’s “Lil Red Ridin’ Hood”
  • The Royal Guardsmen’s “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron”
  • Nancy Sinatra’s “The Last of the Secret Agents?” (which decades later was signed by Nancy herself)

Remember, this music was chosen by an 8-year-old.

That Philco stereo has traveled with me over the years even though I haven’t used it since  my late teens.  That’s when the stereo marketplace changed.  Music lovers had to purchase all the components separately:  turntable, speakers and receivers (a smart money-making move by those manufacturers).

I was curious if my stereo still worked, so I carried it out from the garage onto the patio. 

I pulled out the power cord neatly folded up and stored in the back, and plugged it in.  I moved the power lever near the tonearm to the “on” position.

Unbelievably, the turntable turned.  It still worked! 

Quickly I went into the house to retrieve one of the few 78 records I still had, Frank Sinatra singing “Day by Day” on the Columbia label.  It was produced on Aug. 22, 1945, 11 days before the end of World War Two.

I gently placed it on the turntable.  I gingerly moved the tonearm onto the record.  And I could hear Frankie singing, though the volume was extremely low.   Adjusting the volume control had no effect on making the sound louder so clearly the machine had diminished.

I turned it off, then turned it back on again.  And guess what?

It stopped working.

It’s as if my Philco stereo had enough life to be played one more time, and that was it.

That’s when I knew I had to say goodbye to a piece of my childhood.  It served me well.

I took photos and video of the stereo to show my wife and sons who had never seen it opened up.

When my youngest son saw the footage, he encouraged me to keep it, texting, “You could repurpose it and make it a time capsule of sorts.”  I briefly thought about it, but I couldn’t imagine where in my house I would put the Philco.  It would end up back in the garage, never to be seen for who knows how long.

I called my city’s refuse department which picked up bulky items that didn’t fit in one’s trash cans and placed my Philco stereo along with a couple of other items on the parkway on my trash pick-up day.

Periodically, that morning, I would peer out my front window to see if the items were picked up yet.  About the third time I looked out, I noticed that the Philco stereo was gone while the other items were still there.

Someone had come by and rescued the Philco.  I’d like to think that whoever took it had a fondness for old record players.  I hope it brightens someone else’s life as it did my childhood. 

And whoever has it will know whose stereo this was for “Brian” remains embossed on top of it.  It will always be mine.

Leave a comment Posted on Atomic Records

And the Music Goes Round and Round

Do you have storage areas in your house where you keep old things that you never use again?

One of my storage areas is the cabinet above my wife’s closet.  That is where I’ve kepy my entire album collection since I was a child.

I’ve boxed and moved these LPs several times over the years as I moved.  The last time I played any vinyl was about 15 years ago.  That’s when we purchased a new component for the entertainment center which needed its own shelf.  The turntable had to go—above my wife’s closet.

Since then, I have a mini-museum hidden from the public.  Until we had the house painted this year.

Having to box items before the painters came in provided us an opportunity to really clean house.

In recent years, I’ve learned to part with lots of material items.  Just this weekend, I discarded boxes of financial documents such as utility bills and pay stubs going back to 1990.  I mean, why was I saving this stuff?

Just as my wife and I donated hundreds of books to used bookstores earlier this month, I decided the time had come to look at my record collection one last time, and only keep the most special albums.

I have an extensive collection of Bernard Herrmann soundtracks.  He’s my favorite film composer; most people know his music if not his name.  You can hear his scores in “Psycho” and “Citizen Kane.”  So I didn’t let any of those go.

Then I have a small collection of Frank Sinatra albums.  Unlike the Herrmann albums which I bought brand new, the Sinatra stuff was bought used in the 1990’s when I first got hooked into the crooner.  Those I kept as well.

I found a local record store who accepted donations and transported four banker’s boxes full of albums over there.  My wife and I were expecting to drop off the boxes and drive off.

At Atomic Records in Burbank, however, we didn’t leave so quickly.  It turns out that Nick and his brother who have run the store for 30 years actually pay money for records that they can sell in their store.

More unexpected than that was Nick himself.  As we stood outside his loading dock in the alley, like a jeweler using a loop, he meticulously looked at every album, sometimes removing the album from its sleeve to check its condition, often commenting on the artist.

In the 45 minutes this process took, it was as if Ralph Edwards had come back from the dead to surprise me, “Brian, this is your life!”  Nick was a music archaeologist examining my stash, and I was reviewing the evolution of my musical tastes, from boy to man.

There were two albums from The Royal Guardians, a rock group whose 1966 hit song “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron” was the impetus for me to buy their music.  Comedy albums from Don Rickles, and one from Mickey Katz whose son, Joel Grey, is more well known.  

Nick regaled us with stories of studio musicians who worked on some of these albums, including a drummer who continued practicing his craft until his death at 90,whose house was across from the alley from the record store.

What made this experience even more memorable was that the house where I grew up as a baby was behind that old musician’s house.  Incredible.

Nick told us about his house in Japan (his wife is Japanese) and how the vinyl produced there is superior in quality than those manufactured in the states.  I asked him how large of a collection has he ever seen.  The biggest ones have been around 10,000 records which requires renting a truck to haul the stuff back to his store.

I felt pride when Nick finished perusing my lifetime of rccords and had compiled a much larger pile of those he could sell versus those who he couldn’t.

“What happens to those you can’t sell, Nick?  Do you throw them away?” I asked.

“Oh no,” he replied.  “I place them outside my store at night, and when I return the next morning, they’re gone.”

It made me feel good that the music that brought me enjoyment since I was a little boy, could bring enjoyment to others.  What treasures do you have hidden in your home which could brighten other people’s lives?

1 Comment Posted on Uncategorized

Winter Cleaning

When I retired a few years ago, I began cleaning out my garage.   I bought a shredder and got rid of boxes of old financial documents that I had held on to for over 20 years.

I went through bins of souvenirs I saved throughout the years and said goodbye to much of it, saving only the most special ones.

At that time I thought I had done a decent enough job even though the garage looked just about as full as it had after I did my purge.

Three and a half years later, I am going through another cleansing of my material items.  When we decided to have our house painted inside and out at the start of the new year, I wasn’t expecting to have to pack up so much of our loose stuff—the stuff that is on bookshelves, in cupboards, on top or bookcases, etc.

In one day, my wife and I filled 20 banker’s boxes and still had more to pack but no more boxes were left.

Underneath our entertainment center was an archaeological dig.  There were videotapes, audio cassettes, DVDs, and CDs.

As I perused the titles, a thought crossed my mind.  I kept all of this with the intention of watching and listening to it again—but I never did.

Things that I thought were so important to me such as rare “This is Your Life” episodes and old Laker and Dodger games were no longer vital to my life.

It’s as if I was keeping a Brian Crosby museum of TV shows, sporting events and movies that I have seen in my life, but will never see again.

And the same concept applies to books.  When I was a young adult and began buying books for myself, my very first piece of furniture was a bookcase with glass doors.  I was so proud of that purchase for I now had something to showcase all the books that I read.

In old movies rich people had complete rooms called libraries where from floor to ceiling books were stacked.   Often there was a cool sliding ladder device that could be wheeled around the stacks when looking for books.

I fantasized that one day when I owned a house I would have a library room.  Today, I have four bookcases as well as built-in shelves on either side of my fireplace.  It looks nice.  But it is just a nice storage area.  Neither my wife or I re-read books.

Except for holiday-themed media, I don’t watch or listen to any of this stuff.   The songs that I do hear repeatedly are those on my workout playlists on my smart phone.

So, instead of restacking the shelves of these old books, my wife and I selected more than half of our books to give away.

One might think such a task would be easy, but it’s not that simple.

The 2020 pandemic shutdown ignited everyone to clean out their houses.  Suddenly, Goodwill stores are no longer accepting books, clothing, you name it.  Even they were throwing things out.

Libraries as well have applied the brakes on donations limiting one bag per customer per day.  At that rate, it would take me to the 4th of July to dispose of all my books.

Luckily, used book stores have open arms for people like me because I am giving them inventory—free of charge.   I wouldn’t take store credit if they offered it.  What for?  To buy more books?

People under 40 years old including our own children do not use hardbound books or physical videos just as they don’t write checks or use cash.  They don’t even have satellite dishes or cable to watch things; shows are solely viewed via streaming on their phones.  

Videotapes, CDs, DVDs are like the horse and buggy to them.

I’m being kind to my children by getting rid of this stuff now so that they don’t have to when I’m gone.  Besides, there’ll be plenty of my belongings left for them to throw out.  I’m still clinging to my Tex Avery cartoon collection.

2 Comments Posted on Uncategorized

Goodbye, Noble

This is a column I knew I would have to write one day, but wished I never would.

A few days ago, my wife and I had to say goodbye to Noble, our pit bull mix dog who has been a member of the Crosby household for almost 13 years.  I’ve never had a dog live that long which makes the parting that much more hurtful.

Combined with our previous family dog Buster who was with us for over 12 years, my wife and I have had a dog for 25 of the 29 years we’ve been married.  Except for the nine months between the two dogs, our two boys do not know what home is like without a dog.

We adopted Noble from the Pasadena Humane Society on January 19, 2011.  He was about a year old so still very much a puppy in terms of behavior.  One of the workers there pointed out that he had a blue sticker on his card that meant he doesn’t interact well with other dogs, a common trait of pit bulls. 

Unlike headline stories, the vast majority of these dogs are wonderful with people.  Neither one of our pit bulls every attacked a person including our sons when they were infants.

Noble had a strong presence so we nicknamed him Personality Plus and Mr. Intensity.  His habits were always entertaining.  Every time he went outside to the backyard, he’d turn left and proceed clockwise around the perimeter of the yard making sure the coast was clear for us to come out.

Like other dogs, Noble liked the sun and followed it inside the house from room to room, making sure his head was bathed in the warmth by continuously readjusting his position on the carpet or his pillow.

Noble could recognize the engines of our cars from the street as we approached the driveway.  He would bark incessantly until the back door was opened so he could greet my wife or myself.  Then, per usual, lead us to the laundry room for his treat (wheat bread with peanut butter).

Whenever we had a visitor, he’d be sure to greet them at the door, then head into the laundry room to receive a treat.

When my wife ate her dinner on a TV tray in the living room, Noble would be frantically rolling his body on his back on the rug next to her, twisting himself into a comma while waiting for the leftovers.

There’s a hilarious video of my youngest son using a bubble wand in the backyard with a younger Noble leaping high in the air to burst each one of them.  That’s before he tore his ligaments and lost power in his hind legs.

If I went to lay on my bed, Noble wanted me to get of the bedroom and go into the living room with him.  So, he’d poke his muzzle into my body to get me up.  How I wish I could feel his wet nose on my hand one more time.

The cleverest trick Noble performed was when my wife and I would stand with our legs outstretched, me in the front, her in the back, and he would walk forward through them, turning around and emitting a short “bark,” resulting in a treat.

Noble had an internal clock as good as any Swiss timepiece.  He knew when it was time for his morning feeding (6:00 a.m.), walk (10:00 a.m.), afternoon feeding (2:30 p.m.), car ride (3:30 p.m.), and time for my wife to stop working in her home office (5:00 p.m.).  When those times occurred, he barked his head off like an annoying rooster. 

He had the largest barking vocabulary of any dog we’ve had.  His barks, which occurred more when he was happy than when he was sounding an alert, would come in two rapid back-to-back alerts, characterized by volume and pitch. 

  • Reacting to people and dogs he saw through the front room window = high volume, high pitch
  • Going for a walk = low volume, low pitch
  • Going for a ride = high volume, low pitch
  • Getting his afternoon feeding = loud volume, high pitch; more like a “woof-woof”
  • Chasing squirrels = high volume, high pitch (non-stop)
  • Hiding in the house = low volume, high pitch

Noble would play hide and go seek.  You read that right.  He would find a hiding place in one of the bedrooms, squeezing his 60-pound body underneath a desk and behind a chair, or on the far side of our bed.  Then he would bark so we would know where to find him.  Once we turned on the light and made eye contact, he bolted towards the laundry room, waiting for his reward.  He had us wrapped around his little paw.

By far his loudest and most guttural bark was when he went for a ride in the car.  I would ask him, raising the volume on the word “ride,” “Do you want to go for a RIDE in the car?”  His eyes would light up and he’d paced rapidly until I pulled out the car from the garage.

My wife would hold him back, then release the screen door as I hurriedly shuttled from the driver’s seat to the passenger rear door, timing it so I arrived before he sprinted into the car.  Often his momentum would carry him on top of the bench seat.  As he got older, I’d have to give him a boost on his tush to get him up.

As soon as I drove the car down the driveway with both rear windows all the way down, the barking would cease, and his snout would be out, ears flapping in the breeze.

It was only 10 minutes a day, but Noble lived for that ride in the car.

Once I retired in 2020, Noble was literally by my side at home.  He kept his eye on me and my movements.  I’d get up from the couch and go to the kitchen; he did the same.  I took a shower in the bathroom; he’d lie down outside the door waiting for me.

As Noble got older and had difficulty with his weak rear legs, whenever I had to get up to do something, I’d rush back so he didn’t have to rise up to see what I was doing.  I didn’t want him to budge from his comfortable Fibonacci-like circular position.

On the last day of his life, when we were transporting him to the vet, I couldn’t get him up onto the car seat.  Miraculously, during the drive, using only his upper body, he found the strength to pull himself up and put his head out the window one last time.

I was a little surprised at how emotional I got holding Noble, watching him and hearing him snore a bit as he drifted away. I told my wife, “I don’t want to have another dog” knowing full well as those words spit out of my mouth that I truly didn’t mean that.  I cannot imagine my life without having another dog.

Is it worth having a pet knowing the pain that will eventually come when they die?  Absolutely.

The thing about a pet is that you have to accept the terms of the agreement.  You receive years of unconditional love, but will have to see that pet die.

Imagine if children lived short lives.  Would people stop having children because of the intense pain of losing them? 

Think about parents with terminally ill children.  Even knowing they will outlive their kids, every one of them echoes the same sentiment:  I wouldn’t trade those few years for not having the child in the first place.

Life has joys and tragedies.  Without the sadness, there is no gladness.  Joy comes from moments that don’t last forever.

Noble enriched our lives close to 13 years.  Why deprive oneself from years of joy? 

Hall of Fame Dodger broadcaster Vin Scully described life best when talking about the status of injured baseball players.  He would say that so-and-so is listed as “day to day.”  After a pause, he would add, “Aren’t we all.”

When both of our sons left home for the first time last year—one for a job, the other for college—people would tell us, “You’re now empty nesters.”  However, that wasn’t accurate for we still had Noble.  Now, we are truly empty nesters, our house empty of dog pillows, dog food, pull toys, and lots of staring and barking.  Our hearts may be broken, but our memories are full.

1 Comment Posted on House Hunters

Grouse Hunters

Lately my wife and I have been binging episodes of “House Hunters.”  We first watched the show when we were house hunting ourselves many years ago.  At that time, it was a quaint show that depicted normal-type people on limited budgets seeking an affordable place to call their own, a piece of the American Dream.

It has been quite some time since we last viewed it until last month.  The show has become so formulaic.  Clearly, the producers prefer couples who do not see eye-to-eye on a house.  More conflict equals more viewership.  At the start of each show, we hear an off-screen host repeat the same teaser.  “She wants a single-story traditional ranch house with a formal dining room and a pool.  He wants a two-story new-construction open-concept floor plan with a basement.”

But that predictability makes the show bland and doesn’t represent reality.  I know, I know, “reality” TV is anything but real life.  But there must be a couple out there who are both seeking a craftsman bungalow with just 2 bedrooms and 1 bathroom and aren’t grumbling about the size and color of every little detail.

So many house seekers expect to pay low money for a turnkey house that fits their vision of the ultimate house on earth.  These “contestants” look petty, selfish and unappreciative.  So many people would happily accept any house that they could afford; however, these people frequently make comments like “this is a gut job” when looking at brand-new kitchens that have cabinets or countertops that don’t match their pre-conceived notions.

One couple who were independently wealthy chose the most expensive house of the three options (around $2 million) which was newly built and then gutted it (for at least $500,000)—so wasteful. 

I think of how people in other countries look at Americans who have an insatiable appetite for oversized houses.  Do people really need walk-in closets that are larger than small bedrooms?

Most couples seek out a three-bedroom, 3,000 square foot house that is supposed to look like a Mediterranean palace with hardwood floors, granite countertops, double-sink vanities, and high ceilings.

Why do two people need three bedrooms?  One bedroom for themselves, one for an office and a third for a guest room.  Just how often are they expecting company to spend the night?  Whatever happened to putting a futon in the office, or crashing on someone’s couch?

Many people frown down upon a small dining area saying, “But how are we going to have Thanksgiving with all of our families?”  Number one, Thanksgiving is one day out the year.  The other 364 days will just be the two of them.

For couples with children, it is mandatory that every child have their own bedroom.  Have they ever heard about bunk beds?

Completely overlooked is the amount of time to clean a large house not to mention the cost of buying more furniture.

I also don’t get this cockamamie idea of the open-concept floor plan where everyone needs an unobstructed view of everyone else in the dining room, the kitchen and the living room. 

Why not continue that concept and take down the walls between bedrooms?  No one is demanding the wall be taken down between the master bedroom and their en-suite master bath.  Funny how a couple does not want to see their loved one on a toilet in their private boudoir.  (By the way, when did the term “master bedroom” become “primary bedroom”?)

One young newlywed seemed aghast to see an older home with a toilet across from an enclosed shower.  She thought that was unpleasant.  Gee, how many houses has she ever been in?

And what’s with the farmhouse-style thing?  One man upon entering a white house actually shouted, “I love the color!”

And if I hear one more woman say that she wants to whitewash the natural wood beams or change the kitchen cabinets and hardware to farmhouse-style black on white, I’ll smash my remote on the floor. 

The one positive take-away from watching “House Hunters” is how appreciative I am that I own a modest house and that achievement alone is good enough for me.

My five-member family could only afford to rent 1,000 square foot houses with two bedrooms and one bathroom.  Do the math.  My parents had their own bedroom as did my sister.  My brother, nearly 10 years older than I, shared a den with me.  And one bathroom for five people.  Yet we made it work.

There are other people with even larger families and smaller dwellings who somehow make their living conditions functional.  Believe it or not it can be done.

Leave a comment Posted on Los Angeles Dodgers, Major League Baseball, World Series

It’s Time for Dodger Crumble!

As a lifelong Dodger fan, every year I struggle accepting the randomness of Major League Baseball (MLB) playoffs where regular season success often doesn’t carry over to playoff success. 

For over a decade, the Los Angeles Dodgers have had a dynasty in terms of regular season victories, having won their division 10 out of the past 11 years, yet only one World Series championship to show for it.

Look at their win-loss records:

2013    92-70

2014    94-68

2015    92-70

2016    91-71

2017    104-58

2018    92-71

2019    106-56*

2020    43-17 (pandemic-shortened)*

2021    106-56

2022    111-51*

2023    100-62

*best record in baseball

In total, the Dodgers have won 61 percent of their games during this stretch, an amazing long-term stretch of success which makes it heartbreaking when they lose so often in the playoffs.

While people want to believe that the World Series victor is the best team in baseball, all the playoffs really prove is which team plays the best over the course of a few weeks.

This year, three teams—Baltimore Orioles, Atlanta Braves, Dodgers—won at least 100 games.  All three teams lost in the first Divisional round of the playoffs. Winning more games and playing on one’s home field are no advantages or guarantees that the team with the better record will prevail.

For the first 65 years of the World Series, MLB pitted the best teams from the American and the National leagues against one another.  That’s when a team had a 50 percent chance of winning.

From 1969-1993 when there were two divisions in each league, adding a second playoff series, only 29 percent of the teams with the best record won the World Series. 

Over the past 28 years with the addition of wild card teams and another playoff series, only 25 percent of the teams with the best record have won the World Series. 

However, where the wild card format has hurt the best record teams is that fewer of them make it to the World Series.  During the division format, 75 percent made it; during the wild card format, 50 percent made it.

In other words, teams without the best record over the course of a season have an equal chance of making it to the World Series, but a whopping 75% chance of winning it.

This postseason, the American League has the sixth best team, Houston, playing the eighth best team, Texas, while the National League has the seventh best team, Philadelphia, playing the 13th best team, Arizona. You read that right–the team which was almost in the middle of the 30 teams in baseball is four victories away from entering the World Series. That’s madness and puts a stain on the six months of superior play that the other teams accomplished.

It seems that Major League Baseball ensures that an underdog will usually win its vaulted trophy. 

The worst example of an average team being proclaimed as The Best were the 2006 St. Louis Cardinals who won 83 games and lost 78 games, only five games above .500.

So, you see, it is a waste of emotions for fans to hold on to the notion that if their team is the best, they will be champions.

The system is fixed to make sure that doesn’t happen that often.

And that’s baseball.

Maybe it’s time for MLB to inaugurate a new type of trophy that recognizes excellence not just in a three-week period but the six-month period regardless if they win the World Series or not.  Otherwise, the 162-game season diminishes considerably in importance.

Leave a comment Posted on Public Education, students, teachers, teaching

Teaching is Hard but Necessary

Every time the new school year commences you can count on two things:

  • Impatient parents honking horns as they drop off their children at school.
  • A newspaper op-ed piece talking about how hard teaching is.

Almost without fail, the piece is written by someone who has never taught.

As someone who has taught for 31 years, I can vouch for how hard teaching is.  But it’s not necessarily because of unruly students, demanding parents, or overreaching politicians.

For me the hardest part of teaching was the demands that I put on myself. 

I cared deeply about teaching.  It saved me when I was a child.  It saved me when I didn’t have a career.  And it saved me with a decent pension in my retirement.

Most of all, it gave me such a profound sense of importance.  Here I was with 150 kids each day, with the responsibility of taking care of their minds.  That is incredibly stressful.  Except, the nervousness was a good nervousness.

I could not wait to get to work each day.  Teaching kept my mind running at high revolutions.  It’s why once I retired I knew I’d have to find other ways to keep my mind sharp.  Nothing I’ve come up with so far has matched the intensity of working in a classroom.

After a half a year into my retirement, I began working as a university supervisor of student teachers.  It allows me a way to keep a toe in public education by working with young teachers, something I have always enjoyed.

As I sit in a classroom observing the teacher in training trying to figure out if the lesson is working or not, I look at the youngsters sitting in their desks and think to myself how lucky these kids are to have a magician in the room—the educator who is doing her level best in keeping them engaged with material she feels deserves their attention.

The job of teaching has definitely gotten more difficult for myriad reasons.   For me, the attention span of people not just children has diminished precipitously due to technology making it difficult to capture students’ focus and keep it there for extended periods of time.

The trick to teaching today is figuring out how best to keep them involved in learning about things they don’t yet understand nor care about.  The teacher is a guardian of knowledge that she passes down to young people.

That knowledge may be subject matter-based—math formulas, scientific theories, world histories—but more importantly is value-based:  goodness, kindness, decency.

I’ve often said that the classroom is a sanctuary, a place that does not resemble life as it is, rather life as it should be.

That is what drove me to work as hard as I could.  I had a very limited time—180 hours in a year—to get kids to improve themselves as people.

And that is what makes teaching so difficult yet at the same time so rewarding.  Teaching is not for everybody, and certainly not everybody who teaches is effective.  Still, parents should thank heaven for the army of teachers out there who do care, who do give their all, making sure the time spent with their children will be fruitful.

If only a small number of students grow up to be better versions of themselves due to a nurturing teacher, it positively impacts all of us.

Leave a comment Posted on "Quarterback", Kirk Cousins, Marcus Mariota, Netflix, Patrick Mahomes

Human Element in “Quarterback” Scores

Football doesn’t interest me.

To me, it is a team sport equivalent to boxing due to its brutality of athletes pummeling each other until their opponents get knocked down to the ground.  Often concussions happen.  Several of those who play football or box end up with permanent brain damage.

That’s not a fun spectator sport to me.

And yet, I highly recommend spending time seeing the Netflix limited series “Quarterback” especially to those, like me, who are not football fans.

I was a little leery when I heard about it because I didn’t like Netflix’s tennis show “Break Point.”  The first episode focused on notorious “bad boy” Nick Kyrgios.  His behavior, attitude and language were so unpleasant I couldn’t finish the show.

Why should I waste an hour of my life learning about an idiot who doesn’t respect others or even his own sport?

Unlike Kyrgios, “Quarterback” showcases three people worth getting to know.  It follows Minnesota Vikings’ Kirk Cousins, Kansas City Chiefs’ Patrick Mahomes and Atlanta Falcons’ Marcus Mariota during the 2022 NFL season.

Produced by Payton Manning, the show reveals the tenacity of these men as they strive to succeed on the football field at the same time holding on to their humanity off the field.

Mic’d for every game, the viewer can hear loud and clear the “oomphs” and “owws” each time they get hit by the opposing defensive players. 

One comes away with increased respect for all three quarterbacks.  All of them are committed to being the best that they can be, and all come across more intelligent than one would think.

More compelling than game highlights is what the quarterbacks do during the days between Sundays.  They have personal trainers, chefs and chiropractors.  You can see why these guys get paid tens of millions of dollars a year (well, sort of). 

With Mahomes and Cousins, you get a tour of their mansions.  People often forget that famous pro athletes are millionaires.  As much as you want to relate to these people, they are living a lifestyle that none of us will ever share.

Of the three quarterbacks, Mahomes and Cousins are the stars while Mariota is a supporting cast member.  Mahomes especially exudes intensity in all caps, in bold in 48-size type as does his wife.  It’s remarkable they get along considering both are type AAA personalities.

They both scream and drop f-bombs.  His wife is shown watching games from her luxury suite spewing expletives with children present which is off-putting.

Intensity does not have to mean being foulmouthed.  Case in point:  Kirk Cousins.

He’s the real reason to watch “Quarterback.”  He is as down home and “normal” as it gets for someone of his wealth.  He comes across as the most mature and grounded of all three quarterbacks. 

For example, he takes Tuesdays off to spend time with his family.  That is a sacrifice he has pledged to whereas Mahomes is so consumed with preparing for the upcoming Super Bowl, he skips out on the Feb. 2023 ceremony where he received the Most Valuable Player award.  

However, a couple of days later, Cousins won the Bart Starr Award “for outstanding character, integrity and leadership on and off the field.”  And he showed up.

Evidence of why he deserved such recognition is on display in several scenes.  His politely asks for assistance when shopping at a Barnes and Noble, he helps feed needy families and graciously poses with them for photos, he writes responses to fans whose lives aren’t go well, after a playoff loss that finishes his season, he stops his SUV while exiting the parking lot to sign autographs, then ends the day saying a goodnight prayer with his son.

Cousins is a strong reminder that some celebrities are decent people.  And that makes “Quarterback” must-see TV.