The Pain Is Gone

This entry was originally going to be named, “Steffie -The Pain Is Gone,” but I was afraid it would be taken the wrong way! Steffie’s not gone, but her pain is.

A few weeks ago, while visiting the orthodontist, the decision was made that her four wisdom teeth would have to go. That’s a lot of wisdom.

Steffie finished her school semester, went to Florida to visit my folks and then flew back to get this dental work done. The actual surgery was done Thursday with the thought she’d recuperate over the long Christmas weekend.

Everything went really well. The surgery was easy… or so we were told. Steffie came out with swollen cheeks and everything between her chin and tongue numb.

We expected her to suffer somewhat on Friday but when the pain persisted into Saturday and Sunday, we knew something wasn’t right. Originally she applied ice, took Motrin and suffered in silence. When things didn’t get better she started taking a stronger painkiller.

I don’t think there’s any way for Steffie to understand this – I certainly couldn’t have understood before I became a parent, but Helaine and I felt every bit of it. Even more, we felt powerless that we couldn’t make her feel any better. A parent is supposed to comfort their child.

This morning Helaine called the oral surgeon to tell him of Steffie’s troubles. Within a few hours they were seeing him.

It turns out Steffie had two dry sockets. I’m no dentist, but I think it means the little clot of blood that protects the surgical area was gone. Within a few minutes, but after enough a lot of pain, Steffie was fine.

It was amazing to see her return home happy after knowing she left hurting. I’m really glad Helaine called the surgeon today… probably not as glad as Steffie is.

Working Christmas Eve

I have been in broadcasting 35 years. This is probably the 33rd or 34th I’ve worked Christmas Eve and Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not complaining. This is my choice. I have top seniority in the newsroom and get first choice on any day off.

In radio it was pretty awful. Usually I was living alone, away from home. Christmas isn’t a good time to be alone.

I remember one Christmas morning tracking Christmas albums. During the Christmas season you can play the ‘hits’, but when you’re playing wall to wall Christmas songs there are lots of inside tracks from old Jackie Gleason and Andy Williams albums that get played.

Now, in TV, we make more of an effort. I was surprised to find a full compliment of producers this afternoon when I walked in. They will have their hands full because there really isn’t a lot of news today (an explosion in Baghdad will get more play than it normally would). Politicians and even criminals (sometimes one and the same) are home with their families.

I always get requests to track Satna. This year I’m using very cool animations from Analytical Graphics. These are folks who normally create visualizations of missile launches or space probes. They’ve really done a nice job on Santa and his sleigh.

I’ll be working tomorrow, Christmas Day, as well. It was a scheduled day off but Gil (our weekend nighttime meteorologist) wanted to go to North Carolina to spend some time with a friend… a marine… who is shipping out.

I normally feel good about letting co-workers spend time with loved ones. This year I’m very glad Gil got to go to see his friend. Isn’t that the spirit of Christmas?

Must See TV – Darlene Love on David Letterman

2005 Update for Google searchers

I know a lot of traffic comes here via Google every year at this time, looking for my info on Darlene Love’s annual Letterman appearance. Darlene will be on Late Night with David Letterman this Friday, December 23, 2005. The info comes from Darlene’s website.

As long as you’re here, read my blog.

Every year, on the last show before Christmas, David Letterman has Jay Thomas on trying to knock a meatball off a Christmas tree with a football. I can live without that.

On that last show he also has Darlene Love singing “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).” I look forward to it every year. Tonight’s the night!

This is worth watching and taping.

First, Darlene is dynamite. She sells every note and gives this Phil Spector classic the respect it deserves. If she’s lost anything since this song was released over 40 years ago, I’m not hearing it.

Letterman goes all out bringing in a huge choir and string section. The sax solo is usually played by David Sanborne. Paul and the boys turn it up.

But really, it’s all Darlene. She owns it.

There is no doubt it is my favorite Christmas song. My DVR is set.

Judgemental for Christmas

My friend Josh Mamis, who publishes the New Haven Advocate, asked me to come to their offices and judge Christmas decorations. Is there a job I am less qualified for?

I said yes.

The Advocate is a weekly tabloid devoted to local arts and entertainment. It is often the best place for ‘bite the hand that feeds me’ expository journalism on local politics and business. I always enjoy reading their longer feature stories.

In the past, the Advocate had been very unkind to my station in a story that I felt was vindictive and a maybe little heavy handed (though they were always nice to me…. even in that article).

Though once locally owned, it recently become part of Times-Mirror which also owns the Hartford Courant and Channel 61.

Josh knows I have a soft spot in my heart for print in general and the Advocate specifically. Though TV has more impact and is much more immediate, the written word has an elegance and permanence that TV can’t touch. That’s probably why I enjoy writing this blog.

I drove into Downtown New Haven and parked under the Omni Hotel. Though cold, today was a beautiful day with high thin cirrus clouds adding some texture to an otherwise blue sky.

It is only in the past few years that New Haven has had a first class hotel downtown. I popped up to street level through the hotel’s lobby and walked around the block to the Advocate’s offices. They are located on the 11th floor of a building over what was the Chapel Square Mall. The building had fallen into disrepair, but looked very good today. Obviously, someone has spent the money to try and turn it around.

The mall is long gone – a failure through a few incarnations. I was surprised to hear it had been converted to upscale apartments. What was the actual mall is now an enclosed courtyard with an open air roof and apartment entrances. Upscale apartments going into Downtown New Haven (and now a 4-screen artsy movie theater down the block) is another very good sign for the city.

Josh’s office is near the receptionist and has a killer view of the Green and then north to East Rock&#185. Very impressive… especially so with today’s weather.

We schmoozed for a few minutes and then it was on to the judging. To my eye, Christmas lights around Connecticut seem to less visible this year. The Advocate’s office maintained that trend. There really wasn’t a lot of cubicle decorating, though I did pick a winner.

The winning cubicle featured a very scrawny little artificial tree but lots of other little homemade Christmasy type accoutrements. It was enough to show real holiday spirit. That won me over.

As I walked around the office, saying hi to people and chatting, I noticed someone working on a page from the paper featuring a photo of a group of people. They were from a store called “Group W Bench.”

I smiled… actually chuckled at that name. No one else did. The name “Group W Bench” only meant something to me. My age was showing again.

“The Group W Bench” was made famous in the late 60s by Arlo Guthrie in his song “Alice’s Restaurant.” For 18 minutes Arlo told and sang the story of his arrest for illegal dumping… in the town dump… on a legal holiday… and led to his day at the local draft board.

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten

color glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on

the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, “Kid, I want

you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W …. NOW kid!!”

And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W’s

where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after

committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly

looking people on the bench there.

Hey, it was the late 60s! Times were different and this story of a song became huge.

I left the Advocate a little disappointed – not because they didn’t know Arlo, but because there weren’t more decorations to be seen. But I also left feeling a little better (and this is a continuing, incremental process) about New Haven.

&#185 – At the end of the last ice age, as the ice retreated, huge chunks of rock that had been pushed forward by the glaciation remained in place. East Rock is one of these steep, sharp rock mountains. It overlooks New Haven Harbor and is a few miles from downtown.

I Am Not An Economist

Let me repeat the title of this entry: I am not an economist. I’m just making sure no one is confused that I might have some expertise as a I ponder the plight of Wal-Mart.

To call Wal-Mart the world’s largest retailer is to underplay their significance in our economy and the economy of the rest of the world. They are the 500 pound gorilla. It’s not tough to look past them – it’s impossible.

Don’t let Wal-Mart’s country bumpkin beginnings fool you. This is one sophisticated retailer. Everything that’s sold in any Wal-Mart store is accounted for within a few minutes on massive computers at their Bentonville, Arkansas headquarters. Wal-Mart distribution system is second to none. Stores are restocked, items are re-ordered with minimal human intervention.

With all this going in Wal-Mart’s favor the revelation that their Christmas season sales lag the rest of the retail sector is stunning&#185. What’s going on?

Is it possible that Wal-Mart has become a victim of the recent spate of bad publicity surrounding the retailer’s practices? Within the last year there has been labor unrest in Southern California where other stores blamed their problems on Wal-Mart’s wage and insurance policies. Then CNBC and Frontline (PBS) both did long form documentaries on Wal-Mart – not all positive. Then there’s the objections raised in many communities when Wal-Mart came to town.

A backlash – even a small backlash would be enough to account for what’s going on. Meanwhile we still have 3 weeks until Christmas and it’s possible that Wal-Mart can make up what they’ve lost.

It will be interesting to watch.

&#185 – It should be noted that early season data is very sparse but some credit card numbers have shown an exceptional growth in sales.

College Shopping 2.0

I woke up early (for me) Saturday morning. We had another appointment to visit a college. This time Hofstra University. As with C.W. Post, we were going to Long Island.

The day was gray and gloomy with showers as we pulled out of the driveway. Within 2 minutes, we were back to get the instructions.

We used to make the Connecticut Turnpike, New England Thruway, Throgs Neck Bridge trip all the time. We still make it occasionally. It astounds me that no matter when we go, there is construction… and always in the same places.

I’m sure there are places in the Bronx that have been torn up for the twenty years we’ve been in Connecticut! OK – maybe a small exaggeration… very small.

The biggest improvement in this trip is the advent of E-Z Pass. E-Z Pass is a little white box with some sort of radio transponder, that signals the toll booth you’re there. So, no more change. No more stopping.

It doesn’t work 100% of the time, but it’s pretty good. I can’t remember the last toll booth tie up at the Throgs Neck. It used to be jammed all the time.

Our trip to Hofstra was painless, and we got there 15 minutes before our appointment.

Back in the late 60’s, while I was a high school student, I used to take a series of busses to Hofstra College and hang out at the radio station. Back then, it was WVWH. The campus was small and close to the center of Hempstead.

Now the campus is huge. Hofstra has become a university. Covered walkways and security separate the campus from Hempstead, which has seen better times.

For some reason Stefanie’s name wasn’t on the list, but that didn’t pose a problem.

After a few minutes we entered a small theater and watched a presentation on the school. An admissions officer (who reminded me of our next door neighbor Margie) spoke before and after a nicely done video.

This was a much more polished presentation than C.W. Post, though that probably speaks to the economies of scale a larger school provides.

The tour, conducted by a student named Emily, was fine. As much as the Post campus is known for its beauty, I was more impressed with Hofstra. The buildings were understated and appropriate. The grounds, though not as spread out as Post’s, were full of mature plantings and lots of sculpture. I’m a sucker for sculpture.

Emily took our group, probably a half dozen or more families, to her dorm… and her room. That was impressive, because while I was in college my dorm room resembled a battle scene from World War II.

The dorm buildings we saw were high rise structures of cement and brick. The few open doors I passed led to tiny rooms. But, for college, this is what you want. Rooms have cable and high speed Internet connections. The buildings have washers and dryers, and the bathrooms in the high rise dorms are cleaned, daily, by the school.

There were other dorms with suites of rooms. Those have clean-your-own bathrooms. I would have perished to some dirt borne disease before Christmas break!

On our way through the school, passing the radio station (now WRHU), I noticed a sign with staff names. At the top of the list was Bruce Avery who used to be our weekend weather anchor at the station. I knew he had become the general manager of the station at University of New Haven station. He has moved up – and he still does weather – now for Cablevision’s News 12 Long Island.

I have created a small photo gallery of some of the sculpture I saw on campus. Click here to take a look

In Just 51 More Days

It’s around this time, every year, that I start getting antsy for Winter to end. Someone asked this afternoon, and a friend with the right computer program up and running quickly calculated 52 days (now 51) until Spring begins on March 20, 2004 at 1:49 AM EST (Not that I’m anxious or anything).

As with last year, this has been a gruesome winter. Cold spells have persisted. Snow has been plentiful. Those perennially cheery people who claim to “love the four seasons” have clammed up.

More than anything, for me at least, winter means being housebound. It’s not like I’m a jock or anything, but I like to get out. That’s so difficult to do. It is much easier to wear less when it’s warm than it is to wear more when it’s cold.

I’m not sure what the coldest day of my life has been, but I have a candidate that comes quickly to mind. I was working in Buffalo, hosting PM Magazine/Buffalo. It was the last shoot on the last day before we shut down for Christmas break.

My co-host and I were doing “ins and outs” for a show featuring a story about a “real” M*A*S*H unit. We went to Niagara Falls Airport, stood in front of an Army helicopter, painted in a camouflage khaki green, and did our stuff.

There were a bunch of elements we each had to do, standing outside in the frigid cold. You quickly learn, on the open airport tarmac nothing stops the wind!

After a while, my lips began to malfunction. I know that sounds silly, but it’s the best description of what happened. It got so cold that I could no longer properly shape my lips to form the right sounds.

Recently, one of our reporters at the television station seemed to suffer the same fate while doing a live shot on a brutally cold evening. I felt her pain.

As is often my custom, as the onset of Spring seems reachable, I fantasize about golf. I don’t think about my play – though I’d certainly like that to improve. I think about the first moderately mild days in March, taking my bag from the garage and walking the course. I live 5 minutes from a very pretty public course, where you can play on the cheap and walk if you choose.

How can I not get into shape by walking 18 holes, plus whatever extra distance is added by chasing after my (many) errant shots?

Every year I want to do it. Every year I say I’ll do it… but, I don’t. By the time I get into the swing of things (if I ever do) it’s too late.

So again, this year, I pledge to walk and get fit. I want Spring so bad I can taste it.

Sunday at Foxwoods

Stefanie has been away for this entire week. So, Helaine and I have been taking it somewhat easy at home as temporary empty nester’s.

Earlier, Helaine had asked if I wanted to go to Foxwoods for their brunch. Foxwoods is a casino – the biggest in the world – and it’s about an hour’s drive away in Eastern Connecticut.

There are certain givens when going to a casino.

1) You will gamble

2) The food experience will be over the top

I had worked Saturday night (unusual), but didn’t stay up as late as usual and was out of bed by 10:30 to shower and make the drive. Our reservations at Fox Harbor were for 1:00 PM, so we’d have plenty of time.

Today was a spectacular winter’s day. The sky was blue with some high, wispy cirrus clouds. Even as we left home, before noon, the temperature was approaching 50&#176 (and got to 53&#176 at Willimantic, CT, not far from Foxwoods), well above the late December average.

I was apprehensive as we drove because normally light trafficked areas on I-95, The Connecticut Turnpike, were moderately loaded with cars. It was the last day of the Christmas holiday, and for many ‘going home’ day. As we passed the first entrance for valet parking, I realized this traffic hadn’t gone to the casino but was just passing through.

Originally there was poker at both of Connecticut’s casinos, Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun. A few months ago, Mohegan Sun’s room closed (about a day before the huge new interest in poker began). Foxwoods is now busy day and night. Today was no exception.

I headed into the poker room before heading to brunch. I knew it would be smart to get on a list early, and did just that. There must have been 50 names for the half dozen tables at my limit.

While walking through the room I ran into Jimmy Christina, one of the floor bosses. Jimmy has been at Foxwoods since they opened their doors. He has the kind of gravely voice that shrieks of whiskey and cigarettes… and a ponytail that is seldom seen by people who wear suits. When I grow up, I want to be Jimmy Christina. I have no idea what his official title is, but he wields power and settles disputes and is a poker room fixture.

Brunch at Fox Harbor was no disappointment. When we eat at a buffet brunch, Helaine and I know it will be our one meal of the day. This was perfect. I started with clams and shrimp then added lamb chops (incredible). After a few trips through the line I had sampled crepes, pasta, more lamb, and baby lobster tails like I had never seen before. And then there was desert!

We waddled out of the buffet and headed toward the poker room. Poker and Fox Harbor are at the opposite ends of the casinos… but we could have been walking to Las Vegas and not walked off this brunch.

I quickly sat down at a $4-$8 fixed limit Hold’em table. I hadn’t played poker at a casino since we began playing online in earnest. The casino was going to be slower and any ‘tells’ I had (hidden while I play online in my pajamas) would be obvious to all who watched. I pulled out 5 – $20 bills and bought chips from a neighbor at the table who had obviously done well over time.

It’s true. You do play more hands per hour online. On the other, the conversation was reasonably good and I had a nice time. Before long, I slow played a well hidden straight, check bumped one of the other players, and won somewhere around $75 on one hand. This was my high water mark. Unfortunately, it didn’t last.

Before long Ashley Adams came up to the table and said hello. Ashley had been our union rep from AFTRA (The American Federation of Television and Radio Artists) at the station. Though now repping teachers, I had sat alongside him during contract negotiations and knew him well. And, of course, I knew he enjoyed playing poker as much as anything else.

For years, Ashley has been an active participant in the Usenet group dedicated to poker and is recognized as an expert. Now, he pulled out a paperback book, and I realized he had also become the author of “Winning 7-Card Stud.”

Currently 62,418th on Amazon’s sales list, Ashley won’t be able to quit his day job just yet, but the online reviews are excellent. Five reviewers, and each gave it the 5-star maximum!

I’ve been skimming through it, and though 7-card stud is not my game of choice, it reads very well. If you miss losing one hand because of what he says, the book has paid for itself, even at very low limit tables.

Meanwhile, at my table the cards were not coming. In fact, during 4-5 hours of play I can’t remember being dealt a pair of face cards or Ace/King once!

My Waterloo came when I was ‘blinded in’ and flopped 2 pair, Aces and Jacks. I felt pretty good and started betting, only to have another player return and re-raise my bets. By the time all was said and done, I had invested well over $60 in my two pair, only to face 3 – Aces.

You want the odds? If I have Ace and Jack, and the flop turns up another Ace (and Jack), then there are 47 cards I don’t know about, with 2 Aces remaining. It’s 2 chances in 47 for him to have gotten an Ace on the first card and then 1 in 46 to get the second. All in all, his two Aces against my hand comes up less than 1 in 1,000 (.000925069)!

By the time the day was over, I was down $132.

I didn’t play poorly. Once, I peeked at my hole cards on a flush draw – tipping off my hand. Still, that was the exception, not the rule. I lost, mostly, because of bad cards. And, because my cards were so bad, and I looked so tight as a player, when I finally did go in, everyone knew I had a made hand and folded, reducing my win.

Helaine spent the afternoon playing blackjack, and left with some cash in her pocket.

On the way out we played some slot machines. Foxwoods seems to have less machines featuring licensed concepts, like TV shows or characters, than you see in Las Vegas. We played a Dick Clark Bandstand slot and quickly walked away. Monte Hall treated us very nicely at Let’s Make a Deal. We left the slots about even.

One more comment before I go.

Both Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun cater to a large contingent of Asian client

On The Radio – WTIC

This was my morning to be on WTIC. Even though I had been in radio for 11 years, I was apprehensive. I’ve only done talk shows a few times, and haven’t done one solo in better than 20 years.

I feared there would be no calls. What would I do or say? How could I fill that much time? And, what about topics I wanted to shy away from?

I have a rule to stay away from partisan politics because I work in a newsroom. Even though talk show hosts would normally be expected to let it all hang out, I had my ‘real’ job to return to. Even the weatherman should be ‘above’ the political fray.

I woke up early – around 7:15 AM. For me, who usually doesn’t go to bed until 3 or 4 AM, that’s the middle of the night! Actually, knowing I’d be home in time to catch a little nap made it easier to get into the shower and get dressed.

A definite advantage radio has over TV is the dress code. I could wear anything and not even shave. I went with a black pullover sweater and jeans with sneakers.

Remembering the last time, I left the house about 5 after 8 and headed directly to Dunkin’ Donuts. Medium coffee, cream and sugar, I was set. I had a long enough drive to allow the coffee to reach the correct drinking temperature.

This being the day after Christmas, traffic was fairly light. I absentmindedly blew by Route 9 on I91 and ended up heading to I84 in Hartford. Though I’ve been to WTIC before, I never remember how to get there. And, the directions are only moderately helpful because I never remember if the phrase “I84 West” means I’m driving west on I84 or coming from the west on I84!

WTIC is located in a nondescript, two story building in a Farmington office park. It’s a perfectly fine place for a radio station, I suppose. Deep inside, I really feel WTIC deserves to be in a free standing building of its own. It is one of America’s storied radio stations, with a long and rich history. It should be in a building that makes a statement. This building does not.

Mike Constantinou, my producer, was waiting in the parking lot when I arrived. The lot itself was 10% full. WTIC and its three sister stations were, in essence, still closed for Christmas. Only the air staff was on hand, and even then it was a smaller staff than usual. There was a sub for traffic, a sub for news, a sub for weather, and me subbing for Jim Vicevich.

We walked inside and I said hello to Ray Dunaway, who along with the vacationing Diane Smith, does the morning drive show. Ray has the deep, ballsy voice I always wanted, and never got. Like me, he had known from childhood that he was going to be in radio and then just followed through.

Before long I had headphones on and was schmoozing with Ray. We talked global warming (both of us are somewhat dubious of the gloom and doom) and how kids growing up have a misconception of the cleanliness of our air versus the pollution I knew as a kid.

He’s used to working with a partner and plays well with others, so I had no problems.

Ten O’clock came along and Ray left… leaving me the studio. I had told Mike that I wanted to run the board for the phones, but let him handle the commercials, news and traffic. As the news played out from a small studio off to the side, I sat down and got as comfortable as possible.

The studio is average sized for a radio studio. There are three mikes at the table surrounding the audio console, and one mike at the console itself. Off to the left were two computers – one for the commercials and logged content and another for communications between the producer and me. Slightly behind me and also to the left a lone PC on the Internet.

I had noticed a memo in the newsroom admonishing the staff not to use company computers to check their private email accounts whether they be Hotmail (actually, in the note it was Hot mail), Yahoo or anything else. At the same time, I couldn’t call home on the studio phone because you needed an accounting code to place an outside call. This is 2003 and I’m paying 3&#162 a minute for long distance service at home; they must be paying less. What are they worried about? After all, the studios are full of hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment and there’s the liability that comes when the air staff is live. Internet and phone access should be way down the list of concerns.

News gave way to traffic and weather and then I was on. It was like getting back on a bicycle. I was ready to go.

In a talk show, you throw out topics in much the same way bartenders seed the tip jar. You’re trying to get your idea out to the audience. And, if they deviate or find a better place to go, you go there too.

Quickly, I started taking calls. After the fact, Helaine said I was trying too hard… and maybe I was. I didn’t have tomorrow to correct my mistakes. It was now or never. I wanted to limit calls – keep bringing in fresh ideas.

The common wisdom in talk shows is, it’s very easy to let someone go on too long. You’re better off moving through many calls. Of course to do that, you need calls.

A few minutes into the show, I started having technical troubles. It was my fault without a doubt. The controls for the phone lines were straight forward, but not very well marked. After a few calls I started pressing the wrong buttons and got trapped in some sort of talk show hell where I was camped on a line with someone who had been dispatched and no way to get to the next listener. Bad for the rhythm of the show.

I had received a note with the names of my traffic and news reporters. Next to the traffic reporters name, Rachel Duran, was a note saying, “Don’t call her Jill.” In some sort of radio insanity, the folks who report traffic on many different stations use many different names.

Best line of the morning (spoken on air but directed to Mike the producer): “Some people don’t call because they’re worried about being on hold too long. There should be a policy. If there are more than two callers waiting, we’ll open up another register.”

A woman called from Bristol. She had no idea who this new voice on the air was, and when I told her, she still didn’t know who I was. After nearly 20 years in the market, I’m entitled to have a little fun with that, so I told her we had given out $1,000 to each of our TV viewers last week and she had missed out.

From then on, I began to ask all the callers if they had gotten their $1,000 and everyone seemed to go along with the joke. Later, I began asking if anyone had gotten a hot tub from a friend… a not too veiled reference to Governor Rowland who had accepted a hot tub and is now in hot water.

I made it to the top of the hour newscast with only minor cuts and scratches.

Things went well as we began the second hour, but then trouble. The phone lines dried up. Beads of sweat began to form. I made a crucial mistake – a rookie mistake: I said we were out of calls.

As soon as I said it, I knew I had crossed some sacred talk show line. Sure, it’s not my job, but I’ll still kick myself every time I remember I did it.

With no traffic in Connecticut, every time Rachel (not Jill) came on the air, I asked her for a traffic report for some obscure area of the state, like Occum or Forestville or Union. She laughed and took it like a trooper.

The first rule of improv is going along with the bit. Rachel (not Jill) played the game correctly. Her willingness to have fun made the bit funnier. Actually, without her laughter it wasn’t funny at all. She made the bit.

As noon approached I was rolling and actually dreaded the end coming so soon.

I’m sure if I did it again, I would do some things differently. And, when I listen to the aircheck I brought home, some of my talk show shortcomings will come into sharp focus. I still have my amateur status, so that’s not a big deal.

Maybe there will be another time. You never know.

Something’s Gotta Give – The Movie

As previously established, this being Christmas, and especially with Steffie in Florida visiting my folks, Helaine and I went to the movies. The chosen flick was “Something’s Gotta Give” starring Jack Nicholson and Diane Keaton, with Keanu Reeves and Amanda Peet.

Let me start by saying the title doesn’t seem to fit. Every time I’ve gone to tell someone I saw the movie, and even as I began to type this entry, I couldn’t remember it!

Jack Nicholson is playing himself (or at least the guy he plays when it seems like he’s playing himself) again. Hey, that’s a good thing. It’s a character I enjoy seeing. Nicholson is larger than life. In fact, most of what I read about him is more interesting than most of the characters in movies.

His love interest was played by Diane Keaton. I remember her breakout role as Annie Hall. I would have never predicted her career would go where it’s gone and that she would be as good as she’s gotten. Again, this is an enjoyable performance by an actress I’ve grown comfortable with.

Both she and Nicholson are effortless in their roles and with each other.

In the movie, Nicholson is a guy who can’t commit. Unlike most guys in their 60’s, Nicholson is dating and bedding women young enough to be his daughter… from a second or third marriage. He meets Diane Keaton while dating her daughter.

I found the story poignant and the characters likable and real. There were times when the dialog seemed ad libbed between the two principals. If it wasn’t, that’s a major tribute to the writing. If it was, it’s a credit to the director for letting these pros expand on the material. Hold on – it’s the same person – Nancy Meyers.

It is difficult to imagine anyone else playing Nicholson’s role, but Nicholson. Helaine commented and I agree, that the part was most likely written for him or with him in mind.

I come from a family where we often cry at commercials. So, it’s not a major thing to say I cried, a little. The movie was poignant. The emotions were warm. The ending was sweet.

During the movie, I felt the urge to hold my wife’s hand and tell her of my affection. I suppose that makes it a ‘chick flick.’

Of course, it was followed by Chinese food.

Being Jewish at Christmas

I had to work later than normal tonight. We’ve just installed a new computer graphics system. It needed a little last minute tweaking… what is sure to be the norm for a few weeks, at least.

Darlene Love was scheduled to be on David Letterman tonight. Though I finished my work before she was on, I waited until Darlene sang so I could hear “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home).”

This was her 19th trip to the Letterman show – or so said Dave. “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” is certainly the best Christmas song ever written by a Jewish guy under a murder indictment (Phil Spector). Even up against “White Christmas” (Irving Berlin), it might be the best Christmas song written by a Jewish guy, period.

The hell with it. It’s just the best Christmas song and Darlene Love is unbelievable singing it. It has become a tradition for Letterman to bring in a full string section and large gospel choir… and she was born to sing this song.

I’m glad that I can appreciate Christmas songs. There was a time I couldn’t – when I was totally divorced from Christmas. Being Jewish, it’s not my holiday, but I have come to embrace the secular aspects of Christmas and the general warmth and good feeling that goes around.

Growing up Jewish, around Christmas, is very difficult for a kid. It is a holiday with exceptionally powerful images. Families get together. Houses get beautifully decorated. You get presents.

As a kid, I remember Christmas Day being very isolating. Nothing was open, not even gas stations (as my father found out 40 some years ago). All the ‘good’ shows were off TV, replaced by religious or holiday oriented programs. Of course you couldn’t go to friend’s houses or have them over either. We were circumspect on December 25th, trying to fade in with the woodwork.

It wasn’t until “Animal House” (1978) that I realized a good Jewish Christmas included Chinese food and a movie.

I’m not sure when I began to embrace the Christmas spirit, but I do remember always volunteering to work. Once, in radio, I pulled an 8 hour shift (radio shifts are like dog years in that they are multiplied by a constant before they’re comparable to real life) so others could spend the day with their families. By my rough count, I’ve worked 34 of the last 35 Christmases and will work again tomorrow.

The New York times did an article Monday about the unwritten pact that brings Jews to work on Christmas, and has gentile’s covering for us on the High Holy Days. Thursday, our newscasts will be produced, anchored, directed and primarily staffed by Jewish people.

It wasn’t always this way, but today I love the lights and the decorations. I like to see the tree at neighbor’s houses. I love egg nogg, though I had never tasted any until I was well into my twenties. I once sat slackjawed as I watched Andy Williams sing “Sleighride” and realized just how good he/it was.

Even more, I love the thought of people traveling so they can be close to their relatives and parents. Marianne, a waitress at the little luncheonette next to the station, is flying to Chicago where she’ll meet her granddaughter for the first time. What could be more Christmas than that?

There’s a line, somewhere, that defines how far I will go in celebrating Christmas. Steffie has always wanted a Christmas tree. That’s over the line, though I understand why she wants it.

It used to be, I’d shy away from saying Merry Christmas. I don’t any more. I hope you have a Merry Christmas. Personally, I’m going to enjoy working so others can have one.

However, if you’re not celebrating, I’ll see you at the Chinese restaurant.

Another Shot at Radio

I got the call, again, today. Jim Vicevich is away for a few days, and I’ve been asked to fill in on WTIC on Friday, the day after Christmas.

If you remember, last time I was scheduled to fill-in, about 1/2″ of snow brought the state to a standstill! This time, the forecast is much more docile, with sunny skies and (for late December) relatively mild temperatures.

The show is phone oriented. I’m not sure what we’ll do, though I’d like to talk about Christmas gifts – what people got, didn’t get or were astounded by.

New Monitor – Again

This past summer, after staring at a CRT monitor ratcheted up to its maximum resolution, I bought a brand new Pixo AT700S monitor. My thought was, an LCD monitor would have a sharper look, use less power, and make me much cooler. Plus, the 17″ CRT at 1280×1024 was blinding me.

You may be wondering, why a Pixo? After all, Pixo isn’t the first (or fourteenth) name that comes off your tongue when thinking of monitors. My thought was, since I was going ‘digital’, a pixel is a pixel, so all monitors should be equal.

What a dumb thing to think. It’s absolutely wrong, of course.

First, an LCD monitor, though producing a specific number of discrete pixels, starts its life by translating your computer’s analog video output to digital. Anything lost in that translation is gone – never to be found again.

Also, even in the 21st Century, monitors are loaded with components. Each of these components has to stay within its design specifications if the monitor is to perform properly.

Right away, I could see that wouldn’t be the case with the Pixo. I’d use a test generator and align the monitor only to come back the next day and find the alignment point had moved.

Then, one day, after a few months of use, the monitor sent a large puff of white smoke skyward. It was as if it had elected a pope. In the room, and later the entire house, I could smell the telltale odor of a capacitor that had fried.

I brought the monitor back to Staples, where they gladly gave me another Pixo.

No problem. Back on my desk, looking good, until a few nights ago.

I was working on the laptop at the time, so the LCD monitor for the main computer only caught the corner of my eye. I wasn’t sure what it was at first, but I turned to see it brighten… and then dim… and the brighten again.

There are many things electronic components do very well. Healing isn’t one of them. I unplugged the monitor from my KVM (Keyboard, video, monitor) switch to see if it was the culprit. No change.

The problem came and went over the next few days. This morning, I had had enough. I was on my way to Cheshire to drop off Christmas gifts and figured I’d stop in at the Staples in Wallingford.

Long story short, the electronics guy at Staples didn’t seem surprised by the fate of my Pixo. He didn’t have any more, but he personally used an Envision (a name I’d actually heard before) and offered one to me at $60 more than I had originally paid.

I really didn’t want to buy a more expensive monitor, but I knew the Pixo was wrong for me. So, now on my desk is a lovely Envision EN-7100si.

The video is very sharp, though I’m not very impressed with the contrast. That, however, could be a driver or software problem, so I’ll hold judgment.

I see people using LCD screens all the time. They are quite cool and should look better than a CRT but only if they operate at their native resolution. 15″ monitors want to be at 1024×768. 17″ monitors need to have 1280×1024 resolution. If you’re not doing that (and most people seem not to) then the monitor is going to be smudgy, with dark grays where there should be black.

Oh – the Dell keyboard in the photo. I never thought a keyboard made much difference either. How many times can I be wrong in one entry?

You Make the Call!

The snow is coming down. If it’s going to change to a liquid form, it’s certainly taking its sweet time. My thermometer reads 24.6&#186.

Down to our south, at La Guardia Airport in NYC, the temperature has risen 4&#186 in two hours; at Kennedy Airport 5&#186 over the same period. At Kennedy, the snow has turned to rain.

I would guess we have 4-5″ on the ground already. Though currently in a lull, there’s more where this came from!

With all this in mind, two photos from today. The first was taken out my front door, looking across the street at a neighbor’s house, beautifully decorated for Christmas. The second, taken by my friend Peter Mokover (who somehow manages 5 weeks every winter in Hawaii) is of the Home Depot on Maui.

Where would I rather be? You make the call!

New York City Trip Report – Day 3

Click here, or on any photo to see my album of photos from this trip.

Lots to talk about as we finish our three days in New York. But, before we get to the day, a little housekeeping.

First, there’s the question of Internet access. The Millennium Broadway doesn’t have high speed access. In this day and age, that’s inexcusable. I knew it coming in. The location was our most pressing concern. Still…

The first night, I used dial up and got a fairly decent speed. I haven’t used dial up regularly in a long time. I don’t want to get used to it again.

The Sony Vaio laptop I brought along had a WiFi 802.11b card in the PCMCIA slot, so I tried to see if it would find anything. Zip from the desk. I moved the laptop to my lap and sat by the window. With all the buildings surrounding our hotel you’d think there would be some activity… and there was.

Using Netstumbler, I started looking at what I was hearing. First, most of the activity is concentrated on channel 6, which is in the middle of the band and probably the default for most access points. It was for mine (though I’ve since moved it).

Much of the traffic is WEP encrypted. That’s smart. There was a cluster of encrypted AP’s, all with ID’s that made me think they were owned by Bertelsmann Music Group. There were other encrypted transmitters and, a few that were open and in the clear. They just weren’t very strong.

Thursday evening, I was able to send and receive my mail using an AP that identified itself as Apple and then a cryptic series of digits. Probably an Apple AirPort. I sent myself an email through that AP to see the actual IP address. It was routed using road Runner, which is the time Warner cable modem service.

When the weather turned rainy on Friday, I was no longer able to connect to Apple or any other in the clear AP’s.

Over time, we grew to dislike our little room. It never really seemed clean and had some stains in strange places that weren’t right. The bathroom floor always seemed dull, even after the maid had visited.

I still don’t know how a hotel becomes 4-star. Is it self assigned?

Finally, I made an interesting discovery, looking at our window on that rainy Friday morning. There were weeds and moss growing on the top of an air conditioner unit. I am unsure if this unit is associated with the hotel or an adjacent building.

Now, with all this said, it’s on to Friday. It was a rainy day – the antithesis of Thanksgiving. Thank heavens the parade was yesterday!

Helaine and Steffie wanted to do some shopping and go to lunch before we headed back to Connecticut. We left the hotel and headed toward Macy’s. Being a good weather oriented family, we were prepared with the proper outerwear.

Macy’s isn’t too long of a walk, so we headed out to Broadway and then downtown, toward 34th Street. As you leave Times Square, Broadway is a monotonous series of cereal box office buildings with first floor storefronts. It is an area without much charm.

Macy’s is located in Herald Square. I’m not sure how it got its name. It might be a similar story to Times Square, in that there was a New York Herald (which, by the time I was growing up was the Herald Tribune, and whose Sunday supplement was New York Magazine).

Macy’s is probably unlike any other store you’ve ever seen. Its two buildings cover a full city block with 10 stories and over 1,000,000 square feet. Above the 4th floor, the metal escalators give way to wooden ones that must be fifty years old. The store is beautifully decorated for Christmas.

Since Macy’s attracts so many shoppers, it also attracts its fair share of everything else. By the time we got there, there was already a TV crew with a microwave truck from one of the local stations. I also saw a reporter/photographer team from a Spanish newspaper and a long photographer from Women’s Wear Daily.

There were also protesters. I’m sure this isn’t isolated. Macy’s was being picketed by animal rights activists, who themselves were corralled into a small pen, shouting about animals being killed to make fur coats. Outside the front entrance, a lone woman railed on about Macy’s policy of racial profiling and how they had a prison in the basement. If she was changing hearts, it was impossible to see. No one seemed to pay her any mind.

As Helaine and Steffie went shopping, I walked through the area. It’s not a really thriving shopping district, though there is a lot going on. The area holds Penn Station, Madison Square Garden, and The Empire State Building.

Across from Macy’s, in a microscopic triangular shaped park, Yahoo had set up four laptops with wireless Internet access and was extolling their shopping site. Everyone I saw who entered their little promotion won a hat… except me.

I met the girls at the base of the down escalator, and we left the store and hopped on the subway. We were heading to Greenwich Village to Jekyll and Hyde – a theme restaurant with a SciFi/Horror bent.

Getting off the subway at Christopher Street, we headed into Sheridan Square. Up ahead was a theater that has been the home to the long running “Naked Boys Singing”. Hey, it’s Greenwich Village – don’t be surprised.

I had actually been at either Jekyll and Hyde or the restaurant next door back in the mid-60’s when Bob Weiss’ family took Bob and me to see Jean Shepard do his live Saturday night broadcast on WOR. For a kid who idolized Shep, that was an incredible experience. I wonder what happened to bob. I probably haven’t spoken to him since 1966 or ’67.

Maybe I was a little tired, and ready to go home, but Jekyll and Hyde was not that great for me. I had a pretty good turkey club tortilla wrap, while around us, figures mounted on the walls came to life. At the same time, some jerk at an adjacent table made loud cell phone calls. Across the way, a little girl was celebrating her 4th birthday. I wonder if Jekyll and Hyde would cause her nightmares to help remember the day?

We hopped the subway and headed back north. While I looked at the “Rodenticide” sign, Steffie had a ‘wildlife’ spotting on the tracks. Obviously Rodenticide only works so long.

By the time we returned to the hotel to pick up the Explorer and head home, it was nearly four. I reached for the claim check… but it wasn’t there! We did find it, in my coat which had been left in storage with the bellmen.

The trip home was pretty easy. The day after Thanksgiving may be busy at the stores, but it’s less than pedestrian on the Connecticut Turnpike. Manhattan to our house took a little less than two hours.

During our stay in New York, I took nearly 500 photos. On Thanksgiving alone, I snapped nearly 1 GB worth of images. We all had a great time. Our anniversary will go in the books as a happy one. The Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade will be a lifetime memory.

As I type this, early Monday morning, Priceline has just sent me a survey, asking about my hotel. I told all.

Click here, or on any photo to see my album of photos from this trip.