Arnold Stang Has Died

Arnold Stang is on my ever increasing list of actors I wish I’d met. I guess I’d better get a little more proactive on that.

Arnold Stang.jpgArnold Stang has passed away. Maybe this won’t mean much to you–Arnold Stang isn’t a household word any more. He was a skinny, nerdy comedic actor known for his distinctive look and even more distinctive voice.

I just took a look at his IMDB resume. He was there as TV came of age. He was there when a single appearance on a variety show could get higher ratings than the Super Bowl! Those were heady days.

Stang did television, movies, commercials and animation voices. He was perfect at playing Arnold Stang. Typecast? Sure. But for Stang there was good work in being typecast.

Arnold Stang is on my ever increasing list of actors I wish I’d met. I guess I’d better get a little more proactive on that.

I remember Arnold most fondly as the voice of Top Cat, a smart alack Hanna-Barbera cartoon character from the sixties. Here’s a sample with Allen Jenkins as the voice of Officer Dibble

Mistrust And Fear

There is too much distrust and too much fear. Neither black nor white America have a corner on this market.

The TV was on when President Obama walked into the White House briefing room today. He was ‘walking back’ his comment on the arrest of Harvard Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr.

“My sense is you’ve got two good people in a circumstance in which neither of them were able to resolve the incident in the way that it should have been resolved and the way they would have liked it to be resolved.”

Agreed. Here’s my takeaway on this whole thing.

1) President Obama did what our recent president(s) wouldn’t. He was conciliatory. He attempted to dial down the rhetoric. He admitted he’d been wrong in what he had said and characterizations he’d made. He was a mensch!

2) Here is a problem which cuts and separates our society.

There continues to be a racial divide in America. I am not proud to say I have been frightened by young, black men solely because they were young, black men. I am not alone.

Any time I hear a news story about some perp arrested during a ‘routine traffic stop,’ I think: DWB–Driving While Black. There is no doubt there is some… maybe more than some… racial targeting. It is an institutionalized manifestation of the fear I’ve experienced.

A significant portion of black America originally thought O.J. Simpson was framed because he was black and because… well because that’s what happens.

There’s an old joke: Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean people aren’t following you. Similarly, just because there is profiling didn’t mean O.J. was innocent. It is too easy and patently unfair to dismiss any incident as being wholly racial just because some are. It’s the other side of the racial paranoia coin.

There is too much distrust and too much fear. Neither black nor white America have a corner on this market. It is bad for all of us.

More than likely Professor Gates and Sgt. Crowley (the Cambridge, MA police officer involved) came into this confrontation already primed. Tensions and tempers flared. Neither could find the easy way to get out with their dignity intact.

If this incident opens up a national dialogue it will have been worth whatever discomfort these two men have endured. We need that dialog.

A Night With Farrell and Vered

Farrell is the person who gave me my first fulltime job on television We have been friends nearly 30 years.

It’s 11:52 PM. I just realized–nothing posted. Uh oh. I’ve prided myself on blogging every day, really, I just forgot! Missing today could have been forgiven. As I tweeted earlier (replicated on Facebook) “I assume if I drank this is what a hangover would feel like.”

My own gluttony was rejected by my body!

My friend Farrell and his wife Vered were in from Palm Springs to visit his mom. They invited me to join them for dinner at Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse.

geoff-farrell.jpgConsidering everything I’ve heard about revenues being down I was surprised to see the restaurant was plenty busy, but we went right in with our 7:30 reservation.

Farrell is the person who gave me my first fulltime job on television We have been friends nearly 30 years. In that intervening time he has lived all over the world. Vered is from Israel and very ‘international’ as well.

IMG00020-2.jpgThis was a huge meal! I had the Lobster Chowder (Applewood Smoked Bacon, Maine Lobster, Brandy Cream) followed by MJ’S Delmonico Steak with Balsamic-Ginger Jus and then split a dessert with Farrell–23 Layer Chocolate Cake.

Maybe I should stop eating for the rest of the week!

I was surprised on leaving the complex to be stopped while leaving the garage. Police were stopping cars, checking seat belts and alcohol. Saying “I don’t drink” always works in this situation. Having the officer then call you by your first name doesn’t hurt either.

My Unexpected Detour

There was an unexpected detour on my way home from work tonight. I was on the phone with my mom, a nearly nightly occurrence.

“Gotta go,” I said.

Three girls, probably Quinnipiac University students, were walking down Whitney Avenue. Two were in the road. I couldn’t believe it.

Over the past few years one girl has died and others have been struck walking past darkened shops and stores on this poorly lit 4-lane suburban road.

I saw them early and slowed well behind them. There was a car in the left lane. I had to stop while he passed and then pull left. Up ahead I saw a police car pulling into a convenience store’s parking lot. I headed toward the car.

I stopped the young cop as he was walking into the store. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I told him. “All I can think of is my daughter.”

It’s true. All I could think of was Stef at college.

To his credit the officer turned from the store, got in his car and headed across the road to the girls. That’s where I lost sight of him.

I’m guessing these QU girls aren’t reading my blog, but if they were… I didn’t want to be a grumpy old man and I hope I didn’t slow down your fun. It’s a dad thing. This is what we do. We can’t help ourselves.

Down On The Mountain

Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh… nothing. Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh… nothing. Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh… nothing. The motorized cart finally did start just as I began to panic.

Helaine and I were on our way down Sleeping Giant after our hike to the top when she complained about her glasses. “I really can’t see the rocks,” she said. Probably glare. I told her we should look for polarized lenses.

We will now.

A few minutes later she tripped on one of those rocks she couldn’t see and fell forward to the rock strewn path. Both her elbows were bloody as was the heel of her right hand. Her cheek was a little red–it had scraped the ground.

“I need to sit down,” she said. So we headed to the side of the trail where she sat on a convenient small boulder with a flattened top. She was a little nauseous–a little woozy.

She sat for a few minutes until two young women came by, asking if there was anything they could do. By this time I was concerned, so I left Helaine with them and began to run down the mountain. I would later find out the young women were nursing students from Yale. I can’t begin to thank them enough.

It’s the Friday before the 3-day Columbus Day weekend. I got to the ranger station and found vehicles, but no people. Like an idiot I walked through the parking lot next to the station yelling, “”Ranger!”

There was an emergency number on the door. I pulled out my cellphone and called the DEP dispatcher. A little less than five minutes later an officer (Officer Wirth, I think) in an ECON POLICE car drove up.

He opened the ranger station, went to the garage and attempted to fire up a little utility vehicle so we could drive to Helaine. Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh… nothing. Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh… nothing. Wuh-wuh-wuh-wuh… nothing. The motorized cart finally did start just as I began to panic.

By the time we got to Helaine on the trail she was on her feet and walking down with the nursing students. She was feeling a little better. Still, she got into the cart and drove the rest of the way to our car.

She’s home right now watching the Phillies. She’s got a headache, feels a little sore and has bandages on her elbows and hand, She’ll be OK. We’ll probably be back walking on the mountain before the weekend is up.

When you love someone you worry about them. I worried about Helaine.

We are both grateful to the three strangers who took the time to help us out.

She’s A Jolly Good Fellow

Helaine just called from Atlantic City. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. For the first time in over a week she was calm, collected, smiling.

Here’s the back story. Helaine and Steffie are big fans of Rick Springfield. You remember Rick Springfield: Jessie’s Girl, Don’t Talk To Strangers, Dr. Noah Drake from General Hospital.

With a huge dollop of help from the Internet, Springfield is able to tour the country, mostly on weekends, filling nice sized venues. A significant percentage of each show is filled with his most rabid fans. These are people who can sing the songs and have probably memorized the set list.

Stef and Helaine try and catch his shows whenever they can, usually a half dozen or more times a year.

Though Helaine is active in his ‘fan world&#185’, she isn’t an officer or board member of anything official. She’s just a fan… an active fan.

As a fan, Helaine knows about Sahara, who with her mother are also fans from Cape Girardeau, MO. Sahara has cancer of the brain stem.

No explanation is necessary. It’s as horrible as it sounds… and Sahara has not quite entered her teens.

Helaine thought it might be a nice idea to help the family by throwing a fundraiser… and that’s what she did, just a few hours ago at Harrah’s in Atlantic City.

It’s not easy organizing a luncheon for 125 woman when you’re three or four hours from the luncheon site. Helaine rounded up items to be auctioned (you have no idea how much Rick Springfield stuff is available on EBay)&#178, arranged for the room and its fixings, dispensed the luncheon tickets and got a commitment from Rick Springfield to show as a special, unannounced but hinted at, guest.

One afternoon, she sat me down with Photoshop to design a “Love for Sahara” logo, which was then printed on buttons. Gotta love the Internet!

As the luncheon got closer, Helaine got a little more antsy. Had she remembered everything? Would Harrah’s provide what she’d requested? What would go wrong?

Let me answer that last part first: Nothing! It all worked perfectly.

Helaine and Steffie, along with Stef’s sorority “Big Sister” and a few other friends, executed Helaine’s wonderful plan. The food was great. The venue perfectly set. The auction a total success.

The numbers aren’t finalized, but when all is said and done, somewhere around $11,000 will find its way to Sahara’s family. I’m sure, with everything that’s going on, the money will help.

I never had any doubt Helaine could pull this off. She very organized and very smart. More importantly, I’m proud of her big heart and compassion.

A room service sandwich is on its way to her hotel room. She threw a luncheon and never had time to eat.

Right now she’s feeling relief… and pride.

&#185- I refer to Rick Springfield’s fan base as the “Rickdom,” which upsets Helaine to no end.

&#187 – My personal thanks to Regis & Kelli and Rachael Ray. Working for an affiliate, I asked for and received tickets to both shows, which were then auctioned off.

Blogger’s note: The original entry has been edited to correct Sahara’s age, which is 12.

Twenty Three Years Of Love

Twenty three years ago today (I can take off my ring and double check the date if you want) Helaine and I were married, just north of Philadelphia. Twenty three years seems like a long time to do anything, but it has come so easily.

We had a wonderful wedding – a great party. Everyone who was there agreed. The only downside was, Helaine and I spent so little time with each other, as we spent our time schmoozing with the guests.

When the night was over, we hopped in a limo and headed to a hotel at the airport. I still remember walking into the room and seeing the last few minutes of “An Officer and a Gentleman.” A few hours later we were on a plane to Mexico City and then another to Acapulco.

I’m not sure how many times I’ve told Helaine I love her in the 23 years since then. Thousands… maybe tens of thousands of times? Can you really express that emotion in words?

The funny things is, how much could I have known about her, or she about me, when we were married? So much of ‘love’ at that stage must be taken on faith. It’s only with time that real love can be realized.

We spent today quietly, with each other. Football was on the TV. Helaine called the Giants loss, “My Superbowl.” I brought home sandwiches from a local bar.

I can’t begin to tell you how good our day was.

Last Day On Board The Norwegian Star

Aboard the Norwegian Star

This is our last full day at sea. That’s sad. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be pushing a pile of bags eight feet high toward LAX.

I first woke up at 3:30 AM. My throat was killing me. For me, this is often the first symptom of a cold. Better now than a week ago.

I did go back to sleep, but not before noticing the ship is rocking a little more noticeably than before. It’s not rough. It’s not placid either. We’re sailing under partly cloudy skies, but the exposed areas are nowhere near as deep a blue as yesterday or the days before.

It’s winter. In Southern California, that’s the time of year storms sweep across the Pacific. Last week, the Norwegian Star ran into very rough seas as it moved up the coast. This week will be much more docile.

There are white caps on the sea surface, but I think that’s more a short term effect of the wind and not an indication of sea height. Of course, given enough time, wind produces waves.;

I posted an entry last night after the magic show, but that wasn’t the end of our night.

Many cruise ships have nightly ‘midnight buffets’. Not the Norwegian Star. That’s probably because food is available, in quantity, around the clock.

There is one ‘special’ buffet each week, the ‘chocoholic buffet’. Last night was the night.

It is an endless feast of cakes and cookies and mousses (Is mousses actually a word?). All the goodies are flanked by chocolate displays and ice sculptures.

If this was a test of self discipline, I failed miserably.

I sincerely believe a cardiologist, upon seeing the ‘chocoholic buffet,’ would begin weeping uncontrollably.

As Helaine, Steffie and I finished and were getting ready to walk upstairs (actually, for me it is beginning to approach waddle upstairs) we spied the captain! He was standing with another officer near the entrance to the Versailles Dining Room, where the buffet was being held.

I’m not sure why, but I walked over to speak with him. We talked for a few minutes, and though he was cordial, I wasn’t expecting an invitation to the ‘Captain’s Table,’ if such a thing even exists anymore.

Here’s what I learned. This ship is much easier to maneuver than you might expect, especially considering its size.

The Norwegian Star has no rudder! That astounded me. Instead, the rear propellers rotate a full 360&#176, allowing us to pivot or round a sharp corner (as we’ve done getting in and out of ports).

Because of it’s ability to quickly swing around, we don’t need to use a tug boat. I would assume that’s quite a savings for Norwegian Cruise Lines.

Back to today. It’s long sleeve weather, though I’m fighting the tide! We’re leaving the tropics and heading back toward the real world.

You can tell people are preparing to leave. On the in-house TV channel the cruise director (Mike from Niagara Falls, Ontario – no Julie McCoy) is giving the disembarking instructions. What can you bring? What can’t you bring? How much can you bring?

There are more cameras out that on the previous days. Maybe people have discovered they still have room on their flash cards. Who knows?

This afternoon was the crew talent show. I was going to miss it unit Ephren, our cabin steward, made it known he was singing and asked us to attend. How could we not?

Speaking of Ephren, when I walked in the room this afternoon, he and his assistant were cleaning the cabin and arguing (maybe it was a spirited discussion) in Tagalog, the Phillipine language.

No punchline. It was just weird. You seldom get to walk in on a Tagalog argument without traveling to Manila first.

Ephrem was second to perform. He sang, in English, and did a pretty good job.

Actually, much of the crew was reasonably talented, though not enough that you’d want to call Ticketron when “Crew Show” comes to your town.

We’re seeing Dave Heenan again tonight! That will be four times on this cruise.

Meanwhile our room is torn apart. Helaine has started reorganizing to repack our bags. By 1:00 AM they’ll all be outside our door.

It’s so sad.

Well, that’s it for the cruise. We’re still on the ship until tomorrow morning, but I’ll be a little too busy to post. There will be more to say when I get back to Connecticut.

Tomorrow will be a very long day. San Pedro to LAX to Las Vegas to Windsor Locks… get the car… drive home. Yikes!

I wonder if Steffie could be convinced to carry me?

Farther From Shore

Aboard the Norwegian Star

We have cleared Cabo San Lucas, the southern tip of Baja California. With the main coastline farther east, we are a lot farther out to sea, now heading south southeast toward Manzanillo.

As anticipated, dinner last night was at Versailles. We approached, at 7:20 PM only to find a long line leading up the stairs. At the restaurant’s entrance was a crowd of people clustered around a host with clipboard.

Helaine went down the stairs, figuring we’d have to get our names on the list and wait. As she approached, the host asked for any threes or fours… and the rest, as they say, is history.

Did we cut in line? I’m not really sure. If it’s just serendipity, does it count as a bad deed? Hopefully not.

We walked in, and this dining room is magnificent… but in a different way from Aqua. This is very old style elegance. The fixtures and wall coverings all spoke to a distant point in time. Everywhere you looked were waiters, waitresses, busboys, assistants and captains. This is a ‘full’ service restaurant.

Looking around, my first thought was, this reminds me of the Titanic or Poseidon. It had that kind of stately, first class, old school cruising, feel. OK – probably not the analogy you want when you’re already on a ship.

There were four or five choices for entree, but we all had lobster tail. I started with the “light cooking” New England Clam Chowder as my appetizer.

Maybe it is light cooking, but it sure tasted rich. It was smooth enough to use as a lubricant! Something was making it creamy. My guess is… cream. Still they’re saying light cooking, so I’ll just live the fantasy and discard any fears.

On CruiseCritic, Helaine had read comments saying the lobster tail was dry. I have had more succulent, but it was still very good. One of the waitresses bathed it in drawn butter from a gravy boat.

Before I go on, I should mention how grateful we are to CruiseCritic. This is a really valuable resource. We learned a lot before we left home and came prepared. If you’re taking a cruise, this is a must bookmark site.

After dinner there was coffee and dessert. There is one thing I’ve noticed about the coffee onboard, it is strong enough to use as industrial solvent! I’ve seen them make it and they’re using Folgers. This doesn’t taste like the Folgers I’ve made.

After dinner, we headed to the casino. There was a structured hold’em game starting, $3/$6, and I sat down.

Hold’em is in a separate room, away from the main casino. The dealers aren’t poker proficient and neither are the players. I won a few bucks, but it wasn’t the kind of poker action I enjoy. I really wish it was in the main casino.

I will try again. I do enjoy playing poker and feel as a reasonably good player I should do well. There are many fish at sea.

The girls had walked through the karaoke bar earlier. Helaine wanted to burrow her head when she heard some of the off key singing. Now I wanted to try!

Helaine wouldn’t go, but Steffie would. We headed to the Carousel Bar and got the master list of songs. It didn’t take long to find “Jessie’s Girl” and put my name on the list.

I figured “Jessie’s Girl” would be an easy song to sing. I’ve heard it a million times. What I didn’t know was, Rick Springfield doesn’t sing it exactly as he wrote it! Of course that only became obvious while I was singing and looked at he words on he screen.

Two questions: Where did those extra lyrics come from? Where did they go?

As I finished, in walked Helaine. She heard the end of the song as she approached.

Helaine and Steffie were kind as I asked, and asked, and asked again, how I’d done. Of course I’m insecure. How could they not know that?

Rick Springfield does not have to worry for his job… and I won’t be filling in on summer vacations.

That was enough. We were off to bed – another restful night, gently rocked to sleep.

Breakfast this morning was in a buffet type cafe. I actually would have preferred a full service breakfast, but by the time we were up and dressed, breakfast wasn’t served.

It is cloudy today. There have been patches of sun, but mostly it’s gray. The seas are lightly undulating. We are heading into the wind, meaning it’s very breezy on deck (though interestingly, not on our balcony, where I’m typing this).

There are dozens of little activities scheduled every day. Some are of interest, most are not. There was a cooking demonstration scheduled, so we headed down to its location and began to watch. The chef, from Austria, was difficult to understand – but we were trying… and then… the announcement.

Over the PA came the voice of Tommy, the assistant cruise director. A school of dolphins had been spotted on the port side. Bye bye demonstration.

We got to the rail on deck 7 and saw a cluster of people, all trying to see the dolphins. Nothing.

Then, from out of the sea, a cluster of dolphins arched their backs above the water. I tried – and missed catching it on the camera.

Helaine said, this alone was worth the price of the trip! She was right, and with a little luck, we’ll see more.

We decided to head up to the pool to sit and sun ourselves. There were deck chairs on the starboard side, blocked from most of the breeze… and blocked from any sun by the clouds.

It didn’t take long for another voice to ring out over the PA. This time it was an officer, from the bridge. A large whale had been sighted over the port side.

We ran over. Nothing.

We kept watching, along with dozens of others. Still nothing.

Finally, in the distance astern of the ship, I saw a column of spray rising high into the air. Thar she blows!

Wow!

As with the dolphins, I tried but couldn’t catch a good shot. And, as with the dolphins, hopefully this won’t be our last opportunity.

I’m picking this up after a nap. Helaine and Stef are getting their nails done.

A quick step onto the balcony reveals a change in the environment. I’m starting to feel a little tropical humidity. Not much – just enough to notice.

In just a while we’ll be having dinner, then seeing a comedian. Tomorrow I’m going to the Colima volcano.

My plan was to try and find someone to go with me, as there’s a minimum charge. I don’t think I’ve had more than a few words with anyone other than Helaine and Stef. Even if I go myself, I think it will be worth it. How often do you have a chance to see a real volcano up close?

Thanksgiving Recap

I am just beginning to reenter the world of the living. Going to New York was a major shock to my system because of the one day schedule upheaval. I went to work a few hours before I normally wake up.

It was well worth it. Make no mistake about that. I had a great time, in spite of the weather.

Steffie accepted my offer and came along. While I caught a few hours sleep Wednesday evening, she decided to just stretch her day. By 1:15 AM Thanksgiving morning we were getting into a town car for the ride to Manhattan.

The ride started under cloudy skies, but by the time we got to Bridgeport, it was snowing. The snow was light at first, but before the New York line it was covering the road.

The town car blasted along between 65 and 75. I was beginning to get a little panicky. I didn’t want us to be the first Thanksgiving highway statistic!

As we moved through Westchester and into the Bronx, the snow turned to sleet and quickly to rain. Now the highway was just wet.

I asked the driver to stick to the West Side because I assumed some streets would be closed for parade preparations. We headed down the Henry Hudson Parkway, past the beautiful George Washington Bridge. At night the lattice of the bridge’s towers are lit, making it look like a gigantic model bridge. It’s too good looking to be real or functional.

Traffic was light as we transitioned from the Henry Hudson to the West Side Highway. We were doing 74 mph when the cop caught us on radar!

I’ve never been pulled over in New York. It’s an experience. There’s no shoulder on the highway to safely stop, so the cop called through a loudspeaker, telling us to pull off at the next exit.

I got antsy and wanted to intercede. Steffie, wisely, kept me in check. As it turned out, the limo driver had things well in control.

Unbeknown to us, he had a small metal NYPD shield in his wallet. His cousin is a cop in Midtown Manhattan (or so he said – does it really matter). Under the unwritten law of professional courtesy, the officer acted angry, asked the driver if he knew how fast he was going and then walked away. Just like that. Holy cow – those things do work!

My instructions from ABC said to meet at 79th Street and Central Park West. There was no way to drive there, so we got out at 77th and Columbus.

IMG_3112I talked my way past a young guy standing security at Columbus Avenue, only to get questioned again at Central Park West. This person was tall, unhappy, and actually speaking into his wrist! When I asked if he was with the police or Macy’s he said, “Both.”

He was a little more thorough, wanting to see some ID. I don’t have an NYPD press pass, but I did have my Channel 8 ID. He looked at it for a few milliseconds and said OK – but he’d accompany us.

We headed uptown, past workers getting ready to march. We walked by the stately, somewhat Goth, Museum of Natural History. When we got to the next corner it was 81st Street.

There is no 79th and Central Park West! Uh oh.

I called Chika, my producer. She too was on her way. She asked me to stay put until she got there. Steffie and I stood under my umbrella in the rain. We were next to the Manhattan North command post and there was a constant buzz of activity.

When Chika got there, we realized not only was there no 79th and CPW – there was no live truck! I was standing there wondering if we’d get on the air at all. That thought only lasted a few seconds, because this type of logistical miscue happens all the time. Somehow, it always works… well almost always.

IMG_3014The truck ended up on Park Drive South, with a long cable run to the parade. The photographer, Mark, set up and we were ready to go.

Before leaving Connecticut I had cut the audio for a package on the parade. That track was for timing. Now, in the truck, using the strangest looking microphone I’d even seen, I recut it with better audio.

Along the curb, camera after camera after camera set up. All the local New York stations were there, as was GMA (ABC, but separate from us) and Today.

As shot, each reporter stood with the street behind him. Truth is, we were all shoulder-to-shoulder-to shoulder.

IMG_3083Let me take a second to apologize for anyone near me Thanksgiving morning. I project… OK, I am loud. It must have been tough for the reporters next to me, because I’m sure they heard me. Disconcerting, no doubt.

I cut a tag for World News Now, ABC’s overnight show, and then the live shots began.

It didn’t begin smoothly. The IFB system (IFB for interrupt feedback, describes the communications system that allows me to hear both the TV station in another city and its producer) was flawed. I was hearing a few syllables at a time and then silence. Something was there, but it wasn’t usable.

The first few live shots ended up being me fronting my package without interaction with the local anchors. I couldn’t speak with them, because I couldn’t hear them.

It wasn’t long before the IFB was squared away and we started ‘servicing the affiliates.&#185’

IMG_3090Here’s how it works. Chika speaks to the producer via cellphone. My IFB gets switched so I can hear their ‘air.’ We go over the names of the anchors and who I’ll be speaking with. Sometimes, if while waiting to go on I hear a weather forecaster mention local weather, I’d ask Chika to get his/her name.

Once on, I ad libbed a little about what was going on and then tossed to the package. On the way out I’d talk about the forecast of wind or let the anchors see the new Scooby Doo balloon resting across the street.

We did live hit after live hit after live hit. Sixteen separate shots over the morning. It was great!

I suppose you might say I’m a live TV slut. It’s a rush – a seat of the pants experience each and every time. I have called it crack for middle aged white guys.

IMG_3030After it was all done, the folks at ABC NewsOne thanked me. I appreciate that. But, the truth is, maybe they were doing me the favor. It’s a job I enjoy doing and they gave me the opportunity to do it from a great location, on a fun story, on stations all across the country.

The icing on the cake was going there with Steffie. I introduced her early on as my daughter. As the morning wore on, and other people came and went, she was just accepted as part of our crew. It’s nice to see her as a grownup and to see other people see her that way.

Liveshot rundown:

-- 0430 World News This Morning

-- 0515 WFTV - Orlando

-- 0545 WJLA - Washington

-- 0550 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0615 WFTV - Orlando

-- 0620 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0640 WCPO - Cincinnati

-- 0645 WJLA - Washington

-- 0650 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0705 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0720 WLS - Chicago

-- 0740 WTNH - New Haven

-- 0800 KABC - Los Angeles

-- 0820 KXTV - Sacramento

-- 0840 KNXV - Phoenix

-- 0900 KABC - Los Angeles

&#185 – When I ran into Al Roker and told him I was there ‘servicing the affiliates’, we both smiled. It does have that stud horse implication.

Put A Fork In Sony Music

A few days ago, I wrote about Sony’s DRM&#185 software, packaged on audio CDs, which hides anti piracy files on computers. I thought this would unleash a can of worms. I was underestimating.

Today, an officer with the Department of Homeland Security implied Sony’s tactics could risk lives during an outbreak of Avian Flu. Holy cow! Them’s fighting words.

This is really going to hurt Sony Music and the longer they take to clear it up the more harm it will do.

&#185 – DRM = Digital Rights Management.

Cherry Hill and Back

We had to make a rush trip to Cherry Hill, NJ earlier today. Google’s new maps program says the round trip was about 354 miles. That seems right. It’s about the limit for driving and getting anything accomplished before heading home.

Luckily for us traffic wasn’t too bad. We missed morning rush going into New York City and afternoon drive coming home. The only real snag on the trip was here in Connecticut, around 6:30 PM, traveling through Fairfield County.

I have no idea why went went slowly… but it did. It was worse than anything we saw on the Cross Bronx Expressway, if you can believe that.

I would guess a large park of our traffic free passage had to do with the advent of E-ZPass. Having this RFID tag in your car eliminates making the trip unnoticed, but it sure does speed things along.

The toll booths near Meadowlands Stadium were always a choke point. With E-ZPass we breezed through at highway speed. Same thing for the George Washington Bridge.

My only concern was a cryptic message at NJ Turnpike exit 4, when we saw a sign that told us to go – though our tag hadn’t been read. Honest officer, it was on the windshield.

It will be a surprise to find out what the toll actually is. I have no idea. It wasn’t posted anywhere.

This is a trip we used to make all the time while Helaine’s parents were alive.

I remember stopping on the Jersey Turnpike, driving our Mazda 929. When Steffie was an infant, the 929’s trunk made the perfect open air changing table.

The rest areas are still named after famous New Jersey residents like Joyce Kilmer, Vince Lombardi, Grover Cleveland and Thomas A. Edison.

Is Grover Cleveland’s family proud to know that this former president’s most conspicuous achievement in the 21st century is having people mention his name when they need to make a pit stop&#185? It would probably be defensible if he were still on the $1000 bill.

Speaking of the rest areas, it looks like they’ve been rebuilt, adding additional outward ugliness to what were ugly buildings to begin with. There are flowers near the sink (and loud music) in the mens room. The restaurant section is a medley of your favorite fast food joints in a food court arrangement.

New Jersey continues to lead the nation in “Full Service” gas stations. From a National Review commentary:

It is illegal to self-pump in New Jersey. You must have a gas-station professional pump your gas and ring up your purchase. This might have made some sense in 1949 when the law was passed and when most of the population still smoked and stupidity could conceivably kill at the gas station. But times have changed and pumping gas is a safe activity that almost everyone but the handicapped can perform with the greatest of ease. Pay-at-the-pump technology is standard at gas stations coast to coast. Motorists fly through stations with the breathtaking efficiency only Americans can take for granted. That is, except in New Jersey and Oregon

Greetings From California

I’m writing from 30 some odd thousand feet. I have no idea where we are, sitting in the aisle seat with the window shades to my left pulled down.

Stef saw what I wrote and pulled up the shade. We’re over mountains – probably the Rockies… possibly the Bullwinkles&#185.

Our exit from Connecticut was uneventful. Well, nearly uneventful. Over the past few days a low, throaty whir has been coming from somewhere in the rear of the Explorer. I drove it to Steve at the Exxon station. What an ear! Twenty seconds of driving to hear, “Wheel bearing. Left rear wheel. It could last another 50,000 miles.” But, would it last to Bradley Airport and back? “Yes.”

We headed to the airport… heading to the long term lot where we’ve parked for better than 15 years. AAA gives discount coupons, and it’s a really good deal.

When we got there a man with a walkie talkie was standing out front and the entrance was blocked. Full! We’d never seen that before. We went to their self park lot in the back. This would mean a cold car, covered in snow if it snows, on pickup. Life goes on.

I think we’re really close to the quarter ton goal with baggage. We checked 6, rolled 2 as carry ons and had a few random shoulder bags. The driver of the van to the terminal felt it necessary to ask how long we were staying.

I tipped him anyway.

Though the parking lot was full, the Southwest portion on the terminal was empty. Three people were behind the counter and we were the only ones needing help. I had printed pour boarding passes just after midnight, getting us “A” passes which got us on the plane in the first wave. Helaine handed them to the agent and got our baggage tags. Then it was time for me to drag, roll and push them to the TSA agents.

Even with a large load like this it no longer makes sense to use a skycap. There are too many steps, and the bags are yours to push far too soon for his help to be worthwhile.

We moved on to security screening. As we got there a sweet, white haired woman was having her sneakers removed by a rubber gloved officer. I’m not law enforcement savvy, but she didn’t seem like much of a threat to me.

My camera bag got the twice over and, of course, Helaine got the thrice over. I’m not sure what she’s done to upset the powers that be, but she is nearly always singled out for additional scrutiny.

While Helaine’s inspection continued, I noticed a Connecticut State Trooper on a Segway. I think it’s a good idea… but then I saw another trooper on a bike. Even in the terminal, I suspect the bike is faster… and the trooper gets more fit.

The flight from Hartford to Las Vegas was 5:50. That is too long to be in an airplane without entertainment. It was, by far, the noisiest flight I’ve ever been on. Not the plane – the passengers. I guess that’s part and parcel of going to Vegas. You get in that party mood as early as possible.

Our layover in Las Vegas was around an hour. Helaine and Steffie went to Burger King and brought a Whopper back for me. There is free Internet access at McCarren Airport, but my battery was down to a few minutes, so I checked my mail, sent some cryptic responses and ate my burger.

Las Vegas to Burbank is a much easier trip – about an hour gate to gate.

Bob Hope Airport in Burbank is like a throwback to an older time. That’s not to say it’s quaint and pretty, because it isn’t. It’s an airport that’s bursting at the seams. It’s also the first time in years that I deplaned using air stairs! Southwest unloaded the passengers through both the front and rear stairs of the 737.

We chose Burbank because we had heard it was much smaller and easier to get around in than LAX. That was absolutely true. The baggage claim is in a covered, though open air area. Thank heavens the heavy winter rains are over! Aren’t they?

Because we’re bringing enough baggage to stay permanently, should we choose, we rented an SUV. We got a white Chevy Trail Blazer from Alamo. Nice deal. Nice car. It feels bigger and heavier than our Explorer.

The drive to our hotel was uneventful… and now as Helaine and Stef unpack, I’m typing this. I guess I’d better stop and help. More tomorrow from Southern California.

Meanwhile, a little look off our west facing balcony. I believe that’s Santa Monica in the distance.

&#185 – Sorry. Unavoidable.

The Best Movie Ever Made

Having the DVR does open up some possibilities. Every once in a while I just scour the listings, looking for something to record. The software on my Comcast issued Scientific Atlanta box makes this a little more difficult than it should (reverting to your current time and channel each time you set a recording). It’s still worth doing.

Often, I record something and never watch it. Hey, that’s life.

Last night, after watching The Daily Show, I looked through the list to see what else had been saved for me. Near the top of the list I saw, “Under Siege.”

“Under Siege” is a classic ‘guy’ movie, starring Steven Segal, supported by Tommy Lee Jones, Gary Busey and the always inflated Erika Eleniak&#185.

The concept is (this will be the first time ever this is refered to as a concept picture) a disgruntled Gary Busey, the executive officer on board the soon-to-be-decomissioned USS Missouri, conspires with Tommy Lee Jones and his gang of evil doers to steal the Missouri’s contingent of nuclear weapons. First they have to neutralize the crew – often in the most violent of ways.

Of course there is one small thing they never planned for, Casey Ryback. Ryback was a Navy Seal and all around deep sea Rambo until he got busted for striking a superior officer. There’s not much detail, but the brief description given makes it seem like a patriotic, yet emotional outburst from a ‘real man.’ Now he’s a cook, finishing his 20 years in the Navy.

Is there any need to go into the details? There are a hundred other movies that are virtually the same. In fact, there’s another Segal movie, starring Eric Bogosian as the whacko evil doer, which would seem like plagarism if it weren’t from the same group.

There is something eerily attractive about this movie.

Busey and Tommy Lee Jones make great villains. This is espeically true of Jones who plays a psychotic who is genuinely off center in every way.

If I’ve seen this movie once, I’ve seen it a dozen times. And, if given the opportunity, I’d see it again tomorrow. It is a guilty pleasure, to be sure.

What is it that makes action movies like ‘Under Siege’ or nearly any submarine movie so appealing – especially to me a totally non-violent man? Is it somehow wired into my genes? I don’t know and I won’t attempt to fight it.

&#185 – It should be noted that though Erika Eleniak appears topless for a few brief seconds near the beginning of the movie, mostly she is dressed and shot in such a way that her physique is a non-factor… as difficult as that is to believe.

The Man at the Side of the Road

I left home around 3:00 PM and headed toward work. It was a beautiful day – the sky really was blue, the clouds were puffy, the humidity low. The top was down and I was enjoying the road.

A few minutes from my house, driving down a winding, hilly, narrow road (which now gets a whole lot more traffic than it was ever designed for) I saw a man standing at the edge of the road. He wore a plastic poncho type raincoat and carried a small trash bag half filed with golf balls. In the same hand he held a metal rod.

I’d later see it was a file. When I first saw it I thought it might be a knife.

The man looked to be in his 70s, He wore a mustache, but was otherwise clean shaven. He didn’t seem to realize where he was standing, on the road’s shoulder, was a dangerous spot.

As I approached, he held up his hands as if to ask for assistance.

I’m sure I shouldn’t have done what I did – especially with the vulnerability of having my top down – but I slowed to listen to him and then stopped. His words made sense, but when put together I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

I pulled my car into a driveway across the street and got out. The man came over and continued to talk. As far as I could see, he was lost. He didn’t know where he was nor where he was going. I assume he didn’t know how he got there either.

I made the decision not to ask anything that might frustrate him, because I could see he was confused… and probably becoming more confused by his own confusion. Something was wrong and he could sense it, but he couldn’t really ask the right questions to flesh out his own problem.

The strangest part is, most of my conversation with him was fine. If he wasn’t lost and wandering, there would be no way to see or know something was wrong. Yet, it was obvious, as we spoke, something was terribly wrong.

I picked up my cellphone and called the police. This was more than I could handle.

It didn’t take five minutes before a patrol car pulled up. I knew the officer and told him what had gone on. He asked the man to get in the car so he could be taken home.

I continued my trip to work.

Later this afternoon, Helaine asked me to call the police department to find out how this ended. The dispatcher looked through his notes and said everything was now fine. And then he offered up how it sounded like Alzheimer’s to him.

So often we have stories on the air about people ‘wandering off.’ It never really made much sense to me. How does an adult just wander off? Now I have a better understanding.

In a way it is ironic to think the only person not worrying about what was going on was probably this man at the edge of the road with a bag of golf balls and a file.