New Dollar Meal At Mickey D’s?

November 27, 2009 at 9:36 pm (Unzipped Thoughts)

 

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Kittatinny Camp 1962

November 25, 2009 at 8:55 pm (Kittatinny Camp)

Helen sent this text with some great pictures that I’m trying to format:

From Helen (Schwartz) Pearson Freedman

Kittatinny 1956 – 1964

I always tell people that in my youth I spent 10 months of the year awaiting the 2 months at Kittatinny. My sisters, Susan and Ruth, along with the Bradermans, Joan, Bob, and Betsy were the Wilmington, Delaware contingency in 1956. I don’t know when Danny Kristol started, but I should.

Of all my incredible memories from 1956 – 1964, to this day, I hear Aunt Jenny Blatt, my CIT counselor, telling me in my review that I talk too much and need to shut up once in a while. Most honest and best advice I ever got …but I’ve since learned it’s a genetic trait as my lovely daughter has the same problem. :-)

I also will never forget Marge Trout calling me into her tiny back office in 1959 to tell me to break off with Craig Pearson [“because he was a bad influence on me”] or I wouldn’t get camp camper. Marilyn Blum rightfully won that award that year, and Craig and I married in 1965!

Craig and I moved to the Phoenix, AZ area in 1970 in the Air Force and stayed permanently with his beginning his medical practice here. We have two kids, Scott Michael, 41, and  Stefanie Lauren, 37. We divorced in 1984.

Craig has not been well for many years and now is in a nursing facility in New Jersey. He’d love to hear from his former KLC buddies. Ralph or I can send you his address. My email is HPFreedman@aol.com.

I worked in Craig’s office for many years and then to support myself and the kids went in to the hospitality industry in sales and marketing. I’ve been with Hyatt, Pointe (Hilton) Resorts, Phx Convention Bureau, and for the last many years with a trade show company. I still live in the The Lakes community in Tempe, AZ.  Anyone ever visit here?… it’s an unbeatable destination.

Ann Karr, who was our Carol Lynley (beautiful actress back then), beat me by sending in our bunk pictures… applause Ann!

So sorry to hear about your brother, whom we all adored.

Can’t believe you remembered Ellen and Joan, but not me. After all in 1957, you wrote on the back of our bunk photo that you’d never forget me! Joan Braderman and I have always been in touch.

I’ve attached some fun photos with most people identified and sent Ralph some KLC Klarions to peruse. My favorite is from 1969 of Art Baskin, Craig, and Al Sachs sitting at my favorite spot : under the Apple Tree. What memories there! I identified most of the people in Ann’s photos but can’t find my comment… so probably didn’t send it correctly. KLC forever!

Hugs,

Helen

Shelley Rapkin Singer, Judy Race Fruchter, Nancy Golden, Michele Berdy, Janet Kodos, and Betsy Braderman are amongst those that appear in this 1962 picture:

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Happy Birthday, Grandma

November 23, 2009 at 9:25 pm (Family & Friends, Life & Death)

The family celebrated her birthday on “Denksgivink,” but she was born on the 23rd. Bill Withers is in my ear singing “Grandma’s Hands,” as I type. Happy Birthday, Rose Niss. I think of you every day. You would have enjoyed this collage, mostly of Phillip your great grandson [some of you at the bottom], on the wall of my abode  [had you lived to be 121, as we hoped/feared you would :-)]:

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Happy Birthday, Stash

November 21, 2009 at 11:58 am (Baseball)

Stan Musial turns 89 today.. I came accross a terrific article about “The Man,” written by Joe Posnanski of the KC Star:

 

Stan Musial never got thrown out of a game. Never. Think about this for a
moment. Musial played in 3,026 games in his career, or about as many as
his contemporaries Joe DiMaggio and Johnny Pesky played combined. He played
across different American eras – he played in the big leagues before bombs
fell on Pearl Harbor, and he retired a few weeks before Kennedy was shot.
He played when Jimmy Dorsey and Glenn Miller ruled the Top 40 charts, and
he played when Elvis was thin, and he played when Chubby Checker twisted.
He played before television, and after John Glenn orbited the earth. And
he never once got thrown out of a baseball game.

There was this game, in ’52, that year the Today Show came to television
and the Diary of Anne Frank was published, and Musial’s Cardinals trailed
the Brooklyn Dodgers by two runs in the ninth. The bases were loaded. There
were two outs. Musial faced pitcher Ben Wade. The two battled briefly, and
then Musial connected – a long home run to right field. Grand slam.
Everyone in the stadium stood and cheered wildly – what could be bigger, a
grand slam in the ninth to beat the hated Dodgers – and Musial started to
run around the bases in his own inimitable way, not too fast, not too
slow, all class.

And it wasn’t until he rounded first and was closing in on second that
everyone seemed to notice at once that the third base umpire was holding up
his arms. A ball had rolled on the field just before the pitch. The umpire
had called timeout. Home plate umpire Tom Gorman realized he had no choice.
He disallowed the home run. The stadium went black. The fans went mad. St.
Louis manager Solly Hemus raced out the dugout, got into Gorman’s face and
called him every name he could think of – finally Gorman had no choice and
threw him out of the game. Peanuts Lowery came in like a tag-team wrestler
and picked up where Solly left off – Gorman tossed him too. Before it was
done, Gorman threw out six Cardinals. He felt like a cowboy in one of
those old Westerns clearing out the saloon, throwing out people through
plate glass windows.

And then Musial, who in the confusion had not been told anything, walked
over to Gorman. He calmly asked, “What happened Tom? It didn’t count, huh?”
Gorman nodded sadly and said the third base umpire had called timeout.
“Well, Tom,” Musial said, “there’s nothing you can do about it.” Stan
Musial stepped back in the box while fists shook and boos and threats
echoed around him. He promptly tripled off the top of the center field
wall to score three runs and give the Cardinals the victory anyway. “Stan,”
Tom Gorman said after the game ended, “is in a class by himself.”
Stan Musial grew up in Donora, Pa., during the Depression. They were a
family of eight in a five-room house. In Donora, the smoke and fumes from
the zinc factory mushroomed so thick and poisonous that no vegetation could
grow on the hill. That barren, brown hillside was a constant reminder that
the air was killing them. Stan’s father, a Polish immigrant, worked in that
factory and, not too many years after Stan started playing ball, died from
the fumes.

Not that a tough childhood explains everything. Still, there was
something about Stan Musial that did not let him forget Donora, did not
allow him to change – “I’m so lucky,” he used to say every day, more than
once every day, so many times that people would roll their eyes. But that
seems to be how he felt, every day, lucky. Harry Caray, who of course first
gained his fame calling Cardinals games on KMOX, would tell the story of a
beaten down Musial going hitless in a Sunday doubleheader. The heat was
unbearable that day – hell could not be much hotter than that St. Louis
summer day – and after the game Musial walked gingerly to his car. He
looked beaten down. He looked beaten up. Musial never seemed to think of
baseball as a job, but a daytime doubleheader in St. Louis might be the
closest thing.

“Watch this,” Caray said to a friend as they watched the scene, and sure
enough when Musial got to the car, there were a hundred kids waiting for
him and an autograph. Stan leaned against his hot car and signed every one.
Musial.

Folks like to say that people have changed. I don’t see that exactly. The
world has changed. Technology has changed. Movie and ticket prices have
changed. Gas prices have changed,. Many of the rules have changed – the
reserve clause is gone, Title IX is in place, they let people swear on
cable TV, airplanes and restaurants won’t let you smoke and you can no
longer hold your infant in your lap in the front seat of your car.
But people? I don’t know. I get a little queasy when I hear old time
ballplayers talk about how none of them would have used performance
enhancing drugs, and a littlequeasier when I hear old-time politicians talk
about how they always reached across the aisle. You will still hear a lot
of people romanticizing America in the 1950s. Those people tend to look a
lot alike. Still, it’s probably fair to say that there was something unique
about the time that produced Stan Musial. Maybe in those days people
treasured that thing they used to call class. Maybe they expected their
singers to be dressed in tuxedos, maybe they admired strong and silent
types, maybe they liked football players who did not celebrate their own
touchdowns or boxers who spoke quietly, maybe they wanted their children to
believe in a world where baseball players drank milk and said “golly” and
married their high school sweetheart.

It seems to me that the quintessential hero today is Josh Hamilton,
left-handed power, supremely gifted, fallen from grace, back from the
depths, crushing home runs and driving in runners while covered in tattoos
that represent a time he regrets. That’s a story for our time, a story
about a lost soul redeemed, and it touches our 21st Century hearts.
Musial is from his time. Friends say he drank privately, though very
little, yet Stan the Man could not allow anyone to see him at less than his
best. He often said his biggest regret was that he did not go to college.
And, yes, he married Lil, his high school sweetheart, on his 19th birthday,
almost 70 years ago. He wanted to be a role model. He seemed to need to
feel like he was giving kids someone to respect. That, as much as anything,
drove him.

Teammates had a standing wager on how many times he would use the word
“Wonderful” in any given day. They usually guessed low. He was terrified
of making speeches (this, friends say, is why he started playing the
harmonica in public) and yet he almost never turned down a speaking
engagement. He played in great pain, but nobody ever caught him running
half-speed. When he felt like his skills had diminished, he asked for and
received a pay cut.

Joe Black used to tell a story – he was pitching against the Cardinals,
and as usual the taunts were racial. “Don’t worry Stan,” someone in the
Cardinals dugout shouted, “with that dark background on the mound you
shouldn’t have any problem hitting the ball.” Musial kicked at the dirt,
and faced Black like he had not heard anything. But after the game, Black
was in the clubhouse, and suddenly he looked up and there was Stan Musial.
“I’m sorry that happened,” Musial whispered. “But don’t you worry about it.
You’re a great pitcher. You will win a lot of games.”

Chuck Connors, the Rifleman, used to tell a story – he was a struggling
hitter for the Chicago Cubs in 1951. He asked teammates what he should do.
They all told him the same thing: The only guy who can save you is Musial.
So Connors went to Musial and asked for his help. Musial spent 30 minutes
at the cage with an opposing player. “I was a bum of a hitter just not cut
out for the majors,” Connors said. “But I will never forget Stan’s
kindness. When he was finished watching me cut away at the ball, Stan
slapped me on the back and told me to keep swinging.”

Ed Mickelson only got 37 at-bats in the Big Leagues, but he has a story
too. Musial invited him to dinner – he was always doing that stuff – and
there Mickelson explained that he felt so nervous playing ball, that he
could hardly perform. Musial leaned over and said quietly, “Me too, kid! Me
too. When you stop feeling nervous, it’s time to quit.”

Well, there are countless stories like that, stories about Musial’s
common decency and the way he could make anyone around him feel like he was
worth a million bucks. “Musial treated me like I was the Pope,” Mickelson
said, and he was still in awe more than 50 years later.

Those were the emotions Musial inspired in his time. He was so beloved
in New York that the Mets held a “Stan Musial Day.” In Chicago, he once
finished first in a “favorite player” poll among Cubs fans, edging out
Ernie Banks. Bill Clinton and Brooks Robinson, growing up about an hour
apart in Arkansas, were inspired by him. Of course, it was mostly the
playing. Stan Musial banged out 3,630 hits even though he missed a year
for the war. He hit ..331 for his career, cracked 1,377 extra base hits
(only Hank Aaron and Barry Bonds have hit more), stretched out more than
900 doubles and triples (only Tris Speaker has more) and played in 24
All-Star Games. He had that quirky and unforgettable swing, that
peek-a-boo stance, and he probably inspired more famous quotes by pitchers
than any other hitter.

Preacher Roe (on how to pitch Musial): “I throw him four wide ones and
try to pick him off first base.” Carl Erskine (on how to pitch Musial):
“I’ve had pretty good success with Stan by throwing him my best pitch and
backing up third.” Warren Spahn: “Once he timed your fastball, your
infielders were in jeopardy.” Don Newcombe: “I could have rolled the ball
up there to Musial, and he would have pulled out a golf club and hit it
out.” And so on.

Maybe pitchers felt helpless because there seemed no way to pitch him, no
weaknesses in his swing – fastballs up, curveballs away, forkballs in the
dirt, he hit them all. In 1948, he had his most famous season, his season
for the ages, .376 average, 46 doubles, 18 triples, 39 home runs, 135 runs,
131 RBIs. And yet, the thing about Musial is that for more than 20 years he
was pretty much always like that. Four other times he hit better than
.350. Four other times he hit more than 46 doubles. He hit double digit
triples eight times in all, he hit 30-plus homers five times, he walked
more than twice as often as he struck out. I suspect Musial can never be
reflected in numbers because his resume is so diverse and elaborate – it’s
like Bob Costas said, he never did just one awesome thing, he never hit in
56 straight games, and he did not hit 500 home runs (never hit 40 in a
season), and he did not get 4,000 hits, and he did not hit .400 in any
year.

He was, instead, present, always, seventeen times in the Top 5 in batting
average, sixteen times in the Top 5 in on-base percentage, thirteen times
in the Top 5 in slugging percentage, nine times the league leader in runs
created. To me, the best description of Musial through his stats is to say
that 16 times in his career Musial hit 30 or more doubles. It might not
make for a great movie, but it tells you that throughout his baseball life,
Stan Musial hit baseballs into gaps and ran hard out of the box.
Here’s the thing: A lot of baseball fans have forgotten Stan Musial.
Anyway, it seems like that. His name is rarely mentioned when people talk
about the greatest living players. He’s never had a best selling book
written about him. A few years ago, when baseball was picking its All
Century team, Stan Musial did not even receive enough votes to be listed
among the Top 10 outfielders. The Top 10. True, he did not play in New York
like the baseball icons, like Ruth and DiMaggio and Mantle and Koufax and
Mays. True, he did not break the home run record like Aaron, he did not
get banished from the game like Rose, he did not break barriers like
Jackie, he did not swear colorfully like Ted, he did not hit three homers
in a World Series game like Reggie, he did not glare like Gibson, he did
not throw like Clemente and he did not say funny and wise things like Yogi.
No, Musial just played hard and lived decently. He hit five home runs in a
doubleheader, and had five hits on five swings in a game. He hit line
drives right back at pitchers and then would go to the dugout after the
game to make sure those pitchers were all right.

He wasn’t perfect, of course, but he didn’t see the harm in letting
people believe in something. And maybe that sort of understated greatness
isn’t meant to be shouted from the rooftops. Maybe Musial is just meant to
be quietly appreciated. Every so often, even now, you can read an obituary
somewhere in America’s heartland, and you will read about someone who
“loved Stan Musial.” Every so often you will meet someone about 55 years
old named Stan, and you will know why.

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Mets Welcome Back Backman, Man [And Woman]…

November 18, 2009 at 1:13 pm (Baseball, New York Mets)

When last my beloved Mets were Champions [1986], their gritty sparkplug, Wally Backman manned 2nd base. His hustle, spirit, and determination were contributing factors that led to their success.

Well, here’s some news that is uplifting to me: The Mets announced in this article written by Marty Noble [perhaps the best beat writer evah] the return of Wally, as manager of their “High [no pun indended] A” Brooklyn Cyclones, New Yawk’s affiliate in the N.Y. Penn League. Kudos to them for adding Backman to the list of ’86 alims who are now in their employ. They can use all the “back to the future” available.

Here’s a Topps Card of Wally Backman:

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Husband Banned From Target

November 9, 2009 at 12:19 pm (Unzipped Thoughts)

This made me laugh on a Monday… so you know it’s funny.

“After I retired, my wife insisted that I accompany her on her trips to
Target. Unfortunately, like most men, I found shopping boring and
preferred to get in and get out. Equally unfortunate, my wife is like
most women – she loves to browse.
Yesterday my dear wife received the following letter from our local
Target.”

Dear Mrs. Johnson,

Over the past six months, your husband has caused quite a commotion in
our store. We cannot tolerate this behavior and have been forced to ban
both of you from the store. Our complaints against your husband, Mr. Johnson, are listed below and are documented by our video surveillance
cameras.

1. June 15: Took 24 boxes of condoms and randomly put them in other
people’s carts when they weren’t looking.

2. July 2: Set all the alarm clocks in Housewares to go off at 5-minute
intervals.

3. July 7: He made a trail of tomato juice on the floor leading to the
women’s restroom.

4. July 19: Walked up to an employee and told her in an official
voice,’Code 3 in Housewares. Get on it right away’. This caused the
employee to leave her assigned station and receive a reprimand from her
Supervisor that in turn resulted with a union grievance, causing
management to lose time and costing the company money.

5. August 4: Went to the Service Desk and tried to put a bag of M&Ms on
layaway.

6. August 14: Moved a ‘CAUTION – WET FLOOR’ sign to a carpeted area.

7. August 15: Set up a tent in the camping department and told the
children shoppers he would invite them in if they would bring pillows
and blankets from the bedding department to which twenty children
obliged.

8. August 23: When a clerk asked if they could help him he began crying
and screamed, ‘Why can’t you people just leave me alone?’ EMTs were
called..

9. September 4: Looked right into the security camera and used it as a
mirror while he picked his nose.

10. September 10: While handling guns in the hunting department, he
asked the clerk where the antidepressants were.

11. October 3: Darted around the store suspiciously while loudly
humming the ‘Mission Impossible’ theme.

12. October 6: In the auto department, he practiced his ‘Madonna look’
by using different sizes of funnels.

13. October 18: Hid in a clothing rack and when people browsed
through,yelled ‘PICK ME! PICK ME!’

14. October 21: When an announcement came over the loud speaker, he
assumed a fetal position and screamed ‘OH NO! IT’S THOSE VOICES
AGAIN!’

And last, but not least:

15. October 23: Went into a fitting room, shut the door, waited awhile,
and then yelled very loudly, ‘Hey! There’s no toilet paper in here.’
One of the clerks passed out.

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Some Flowers, Skies, And Terrific Friends

November 6, 2009 at 8:20 pm (Family & Friends)

0709 086

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A Reductionist’s View Of The 2009 New York Mets

November 2, 2009 at 12:59 pm (Baseball, New York Mets)

mr-met-prays

The season hurt less than the previous two… by far! :-)

The owners don’t cheap out. The Wilpons have no trouble spending money.

Payroll is right up there with Boston. This year they went out and got F-Rod to replace Wagner, as an example.
Injuries give them a mulligan for 2009.
The problem is, baseball windows have a way of quickly closing.
Will Reyes and Wright be okay?
More importantly, will Zig be okay? After all…

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