idealism « Vichy Water – Author's Blog

November 24, 2011

Happy Thanksgiving. John Dean(The Watergate Guy). An Amazing Asbury Park Jazz Concert. No More Wire Hangars and No More BPA (lining of canned foods) A Bruce Springsteen Book Review. “The Light In Darkness.” Occupy Class Distinction? November 24, 2011

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: Article, by, Dashboard, idealism, Powered — earthood @ 12:11 am

Before I get a chance to talk about this new Bruce Springsteen book, it’s time for some old fashioned drifting back to the future. Tuesday night before Thanksgiving: 11:23 pm; 42 years ago at this exact moment in time I was having a disagreement with my first wife to be. We were getting married Wednesday, that next night before Thanksgiving (it’s a cheap catering night). I didn’t take her to lunch earlier but hung with a few friends in a lame attempt at a bachelor party. So we disagreed about the principle behind such presumed negligence and then, after a brief stint in the small bathroom off my mother’s kitchen, she ran out of the house crying, slamming every door in her way. I stood frozen and stolid like I am now writing this blog. I would’ve been married 42 years if. That’s a significant number; eight years away from celebrating a 50th anniversary, picking out a place for final resting together and an assisted living home with video games in the day room and an old copy of ‘Peyton Place’ in the library.

laurel and hardy. how they made me laugh all through youth and on thanksgiving mornings

But that first marriage was incredibly statistically accurate; we almost made it to the obligatory first marriage duration of four years which set me up perfectly for the rest of my life. So at pre-Thanksgiving every year since she ran into the small bathroom and then bolted, I especially give thanks to the universe for all my blessings like the fortunate lessons learned from the bolting (she was not meant to be in my life). This is a magical time of year. Back then, my parents were around (living). So was an aunt who once found me in a partially compromised state of being clothed a week before Thanksgiving in a vacant apartment in her apartment house she inherited from my uncle who got tired of life. And I’ve been thinking about that uncle, the reach of genetics, and why people get tired of life. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been championing the cause of living to 150 years; there’s still so much to do and new careers to prepare for; like journalism, TV reporting and programming. I’m deliriously happy.

When I was five years old, I started watching ‘The March of the Wooden Soldiers’ usually on New York’s Channel 11 (WPIX). I do believe, I’ve never missed a Thanksgiving. I see an outline of a fiddler on my neighbor’s roof, yelling at me, “Tradition.” When my son was five, I introduced him to Laurel and Hardy, Toyland and the March. Up to two years ago, I guilt-tripped him into watching with me. But alas it is a wonderful holiday. The more gratitude you throw into the universe, the more you’ll have to be grateful for. The average amount of calories consumed in the complete Thanksgiving meal borders on 4500 calories. For my purposes, that’s five hours on the exercise bike. This just in: Newark Airport, forty minutes from my keyboard, has just been ranked as the second worst airport in America. I’m grateful for the streams of consciousness which flow and ebb just enough every week to keep this blog replete.

newark airport. the 2nd WORST in America

John Dean lecturing at Rutgers on Douglas campus

Last week on Wednesday November 16, I attended the Eagleton Institute of Politics lecture with John Dean, ‘Ethics, Law, and Government; Drawing the Right Lessons from Watergate.’ Here’s what’s rather synchronistic with respect to the first part of this blog. In the waning days of my first marriage, I spent weeks watching one of my heroes, John Dean, testifying at the Watergate hearings. He was a hero for a lot of reasons; doing the right thing despite President Nixon, a loyal and devoted wife Maureen (to whom he is still married to) sitting staunchly, supporting him through the testimony, possession of cerebral facilities to remember minute details and bravely accepting punishment. I was so engrossed with John Dean for all that time that I didn’t spend enough time trying to save a marriage; perhaps the night before my wedding pre-disastered it anyway.

me and John Dean

Randall Haywood and me on NJ Discover TV

me and Ben Bradlee former editor of Washington Post

Another hero emerged from those days; Ben Bradlee, editor of the Washington Post, who bravely dispatched Woodward and Bernstein to unravel one of the greatest political scandals. Now a funny thing; I’ve always thought about meeting both of these men, engaging and relaying their hero status. Mission accomplished last Wednesday with Dean. I met Ben Bradlee a few years ago, delivering one of my famous gentle hugs. I told John Dean that he was responsible for the break-up of my first marriage. He laughed and asked if I re-married. I said, “Happily for the last 34 years.” Then we shook hands and I said, “You’re still a hero.” He’s researching another book on Watergate as the 40th anniversary of the break-in is in June, 2012.

More important than hugs and photo-ops were the words of John Dean, talking to a packed Rutgers audience. Dean thought the kind of investigative journalism which caused Nixon to ultimately resign in August 1974 is lost to our times of economic distress. The ‘Presidential Records Act’ which took possession of Nixon’s papers was diluted by George Bush. Dean said those first days after the break-in at Watergate “cast the dye” in how little Nixon was told. During those days, the White House pondered breaking up the media and now 40 years later, the wish comes true with Fox news heading to the right, etc. On a lighter note, Dean is convinced that Nixon never caused that famous 18 1/2 minute gap in his tape, citing “He wasn’t mechanical enough. He couldn’t even open up medicine bottles.” Finally, as I visualized Robert Redford and Dustin Hoffman from the movie, ‘All the President’s Men,’ Dean said it was not great reality theater, that they (Woodward and Bernstein) did not crack the story.

I suppose a bit Thanksgiving theme to realize I’ve now met both of my idols from those bygone days of youth, called Watergate. And why does Forrest Gump come to mind all of a sudden? Why do I feel like running to Arizona now? If only I could’ve met President Kennedy. I was so taken with my first President as a young man nearing voting age; I used to practice imitating him with that distinct Boston accent. Actually I was pretty proficient; even went on stage and delivered my version of his inaugural address. “And Caroline, the uh, rubber duck is mine.”

Changing times and directions: Last Saturday night inAsbury Park, I had the honor of being involved in covering for NJ Discover TV an amazing jazz concert at Chico’s House of Jazz. Talk about giving thanks; I had the opportunity to interview on TV, Randall Haywood (trumpet), Victor Jones (world pre-eminent jazz drummer), Jay Rodriguez (saxaphone), Andy McKee(Bass) and Tom McEvoy (piano). Haywood, who has an uncle who played with Jimi Hendrix, recently played with rapper Ludacris and has been on Letterman and Leno and teaches music in a local school system. We met the previous week for several hours and on camera for nearly a half-hour. I take this quite seriously.

The NJ Discover TV Interview and Concert Highlights: A MUST WATCH

Interview & concert highlights of house of jazz in asbury park

Andy McKee(Bass) Jay Rodriguez(sax) during a fire drill at house of jazz

Randall is nothing short of a musical treasure and success story; pre-ordained destiny took him from Jacksonville to all over the world performing. The concert was mesmerizing. Actually it was so hot we all had to run outside for a fire drill. They mixed old and new that Haywood recently wrote. And Victor Jones on the drums: I told him I’d come to Newark’s Skippers Lounge to continue watching him. Four weeks ago this kind of journalistic activity was more remote than a distant galaxy and now with red forearms from excessive pinching, I find myself doing TV interviewing and exploring worlds of music. It is a wonderful life and instead of Forrest, I do feel like George Bailey. Everything is spinning as if in a centrifuge. There’s some out of body thankfulness that I’m no where near mid-age if I’m living to 150 years, fulfilling more dreams.

Clarence and Bruce courtesy ©theLightinDarkness.com

A month ago I was contacted by Lawrence Kirsch, author and publisher of boutique books, especially about Bruce Springsteen. Would I like to review ‘The Light In Darkness,’ his latest work, about Bruce Springsteen’s 1978 ‘Darkness on the Edge of Town’ album and the tour as vividly articulated by Bruce Springsteen fans? Of course, being one of those fans, I said how fast can I get the book and how high do I jump. My jumping was not high enough; this was a perfect pictorial and word journey that took me soulfully back to 1978-1979. The pictures magically carpeted me into that world of Bruce Springsteen touring, making me feel as if I was slipping through that elusive Freehold rabbit hole through a looking glass.

Cover of 'Light In Darkness' credit ©theLightinDarkness.com

inside front cover 'The Light in Darkness' credit ©theLightinDarkness.com Bruce Springsteen

It was a perfect journey back to the future. Kirsch did amazing work analyzing themes of the album; timing is everything as Springsteen just announced his 2012 tour. I’m not in the habit of tiptoeing through endorsements; however if you’ve got any proclivities and affinities for Bruce and dreams and memories or verbal historic incisions, then you should order this limited edition book which is only available on line at http://www.thelightindarkness.com/home/

And this makes a special holiday gift!! Funny; every day I manage to look at the pictures in the book. And a confession proudly conceived. Just as I always hoped to bump into Ben Bradlee and John Dean; well the same goes for Bruce Springsteen. The book is a taste. Someday over a Freehold, New Jersey rainbow, maybe Springsteen.

Soon I’ll be watching ‘March of the Wooden Soldiers’ and almost simultaneously, the Macy’s parade; it’s called flicking to avoid commercials. My son moved out in June, so no matter what, it’s a solo watch. My little boy all grown up called me the other day, upset about the world and protesting and Occupy and Mayor Bloomberg kicking protestors out of Zuccotti Park near Wall Street. He tripped me back to the sixties, when I knew about protesting everything.

occupy protestors clash

I’ll always regret (maybe one of my top ten life’s regrets) not having marched on Washington with Dr. King on August 28, 1963. Then he tells me almost sheepishly that Occupy is all hot air; that’s it’s a shamble and almost a caste system. He was disillusioned which reminded me of the chimpanzee Lucius from ‘Planet of the Apes’ that Charlton Heston had to give a pep talk to about ‘adults.’ I asked him to explain disdain. “Dad the rich people in Occupy who were camped out had an espresso machine hooked up to a bike. There was no middle class. And they didn’t share with the poor.” And suddenly I was overcome with the futility of explaining human nature, the tower of babble and that nothing has changed about human nature since our cousins, the Cro-Magnons from aNorth Jerseysuburb were fumbling around with something that resembled the first wheel. What we have here is a failure to communicate, I thought. How would I explain the espresso machine deal to my son? Then I said to him, “Mom is calling. We’ll talk later.” And we didn’t. Over my desk is a small picture of an ostrich.

Finally on the health front and living to 150 years; there have been some disturbing studies on BPA (bisphenol A) that shows the urine of people who consume canned soup contain surprisingly high levels of BPA, a hormone-disrupting compound linked to health problems including heart disease, diabetes, and obesity.

soup cans contain BPA. beware!

People who consumed one serving of canned soup a day for five days had a more than 1,000 percent increase in urinary BPA over people who consumed fresh soup for five days. Drinking beverages that have been stored in certain hard plastics can increase the amount of BPA in your body. BPA is used in the linings of metal food and beverage cans as well as in certain plastic bottles and dental sealants. And I wonder how many white doves have to blow in the wind before they take it out of the lining. It’s about money.

Memories of Thanksgivings and gatherings of family and friends is such a powerful force within the neuronal pathways of my composition. There’s a longing to find a waiting worm hole for me to slip through. I want back. I want my mother to send me off to the grocer for an extra apple cider gallon. I want my older sister to hug and thank me for being a good big brother. I took her to a first Broadway play before Thanksgiving. ‘Fiddler on the Roof.’ Tradition. What happens to traditions and sisters? I love Thanksgivings when all the leaves that were green turn to brown and vacate their places of attachment to branches and the sky is steel gray, ominous and cold. I’ll plunge into my journalism journeys in the New Year. There are miles to go before I sleep or weep. I can almost see Ollie and Stannie reassuring Mother Widow Peep who lived in a shoe that everything would be alright. Thanksgiving is magic. I think by next year I’ll have so much more to be thankful for. I think next September I’ll start dreaming about the holiday earlier than ever before. Maybe I’ll cheat and watch the VHS ‘March of the Wooden Soldiers’ a few months early too. Maybe ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ will be back on Broadway.

Tara Jean (co host) and me outside House of Jazz in Asbury

Interviewing Victor Jones for NJ Discover in House of Jazz Asbury Park

CONTACT INFORMATION

website: http://vichywater.net/

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter: Earthood

book trailer. hey its 65 seconds long

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2ko9gcC_M

IMPORTANT LINKS:

If on Facebook check out this NJ Discover site:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000125711074

OR www.njdiscover.com

ARE you in search of another blog that is also outspoken, unique BUT refreshingly, topically unbridled which means uninhibited ???? Meet LINDA CHORNEY:

http://lindachorney.wordpress.com/

Immortality Institute (which represents advocacy and research for unlimited lifespan)

http://www.imminst.org/

August 2011. Guest on Alicia Cramer Show (podcast) “Thin Healthy Happy” :

http://wausauhypnotherapy.podbean.com/2011/08/02/calvin-barry-schwartz-interview-on-living-life/

LINKS TO VIDEOS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfFA-y115nc&feature=autoshare

1. ZOMBIE WALK October 22, 2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dbtCJifzpQ

2. 9-11 lecture atMonmouthUniversitywith Govenor Tom Kean

Nov 3, 2011

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYwkaa_xreg&feature=related

3. VETERANS DAY NJVIETNAMMEMORIAL

Nov 11, 2011

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNohzH8AHvM&feature=player_embedded

4. RANDALL HAYWOOD & JAZZ CONCERT

Nov 19, 2011

Comments (2)

November 13, 2011

A Late Blog Explanation. New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial (Veterans Day Ceremony) A Menu for the Ages. Penn State. Living to 150 Years (Pomegranate Juice) November 13, 2011

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: by, Dashboard, idealism, philosophy, Powered — earthood @ 9:58 pm

I’m so moved by the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial. But first: For the first time in nearly two years, I’ve let my deadline of writing blog entries every week slip into a second week. There was a song, “You Can’t Hurry Love” by the Supremes. YouTube:

The Supremes “You Can’t Hurry Love”

I love writing my blog; a magic carpet ride of introspection, heightened awareness and personal growth. I’ve evolved into a better writer, a better citizen of this old town or any old town. Good old Ebeneezer Scrooge: in another five weeks I’ll find my VHS copy of ‘A Christmas Carol’ starring Alastair Sim(the only film Scrooge there ever was) and slip into the joyous world of holidays.

sleigh to Grandmother's House

Ebeneezer Scrooge(Alastair Sim) and the Ghost (present)

All year long, I think about Scrooge and how he fought change and spiritual enhancement. Then on Christmas morning we witness his rebirth and commitment to taking care of Tiny Tim by symbolically standing on his head in a showing of complete joyous spiritual arrival. How often I’ve dreamt about conditional change forcing me to stand on my head. I dreamed of NBC morning programming. I’ll need a couple of stage hands to hold me up on a worn easy chair or sofa. I’ve got it all figured out; the scene is part of my arrival at journey’s end. Arrival is not a bad thing; just a time to exhale and give thanks. And I love Thanksgiving, a most perfect holiday of family, friends, food for thought, and a sleigh ride to Grandmother’s house. But there are no Grandmothers left, very little family and earthquakes happening all over the world with increasing frequency and intensity.

If you haven’t guessed, I’m firing away on all cylinders, dusting off my parched streams of consciousness that I haven’t used in two weeks. I can still give thanks on Thanksgiving; every day I find a way to thank the universe for my blessings; I just don’t and never will have much of a family. All those scattered cousins everywhere and not a drop to drink with, except precious poignant Cousin Stuart. Where did all the flowers go; same place of obscurity where my cousins sit at the diner of lost dreams on Wednesday 3AM. Is there a good geneticist in the house? Am I the product of bad cousin genes? I’m even down to one sister left; more gene splicing?

dorothy's shoes. i tried to get them to fit on me once in florida

Paul Newman in 'Somebody Up There Likes Me'

I see Dorothy clicking her red ruby heels; there is no place like home and extended family. I’ll never know. Is it purist simple gifts of life? I must be on to or just on something (broccoli?). I’ve been listening to the song and instrumental ‘Simple Gifts’ for years. Then during President Obama’s Inauguration ceremony, ‘Simple Gifts’ was one of two songs played at the Lincoln Memorial.

rare pix of Marilyn Monroe

‘Somebody Up There Likes Me.’ A wonderful movie starring Paul Newman. Last week it hit me again. How can Paul Newman be gone? And Marilyn Monroe, Jack Lemmon, Walter Matthau and Sammy Davis.

I asked my mother the other day; how can it be that I only have one sister left. Things we take for granted; the warmth and caring relationships of the blood is thicker than water. What if water becomes blood? There’s Yul Brynner holding up the staff but the river Nile still turns red. Well, I accept the law of diminishing family. I see a thousand Conestoga wagons heading into Kansas during a land rush. My father decides to pitch camp at the first overflowing stream and within two weeks our cabin is built, a fence surrounds the property. An asteroid came within 200,000 miles of earth the other day; awful close astronomically; scares the hell out of me. I wonder why we didn’t experiment and send a rocket to see how effective we can be in destroying menacing asteroids; ‘just in case’ kind of deal. Or with our luck, we divert it right down here to central Jersey. I need Thanksgiving; a cold, cloudy day with fresh cranberry sauce. I asked a friend on the tennis court recently if he remembered the cranberry scare of 1959. He said no. “What about Thalidomide?” That he knew; the sedative drug that causes malformation of fetuses and was withdrawn from the market in 1961.

Sammy Davis. Jr.

Yul Brynner. Pharaoh

Enough with dodge ball. I apologize for being tardy. But the good news for all my blog readers is that my words are reaching a larger audience than I ever dreamt. Back in July, I started writing a monthly column for OUR TOWN newspaper. The following month it went to two columns. And in October it hit three columns a month. It is work and commitment but I love words and writing. Then three weeks ago in the blowing winds of synchronicity, I became ‘involved’ with a Jersey TV Production company, as a reporter, writer, and program/talent developer. And I do all this as you know because I’m not quite at mid-life yet as long as I subscribe to the notion of living to 150 years which I always blog about. I hear my mother calling to me from upstairs to budget my time. I love this blog and thanks for your support and dropping by. Enough said. Maybe take four minutes and watch my first gig as a reporter during Zombie Walk on the Asbury Park boardwalk two weeks ago. The YouTube link:

Calvin reporter at Zombie Walk Asbury Park

Calvin interviewing zombie on Asbury Park Boardwalk

I LOVE Conestoga wagons

A few years ago, on a cold, bleak, windy February Friday afternoon (enough adjectives?); I was heading homeward southbound on the Garden State Parkway. It was 2 PM, two hours from descending darkness. Something grabbed my soul and told me to go visit the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Holmdel. Something is one of my favorite amorphous spiritual conceptual words; much too involved and complicated for a dissertation now. But I always listen to something because it is wise, warming, steering and magical. Something made me write my first novel a few years ago.

at New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial Ceremony

at New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial Ceremony The Tree losing leaves.

Something made me climb mountains barefoot in Sedona or walk on a decaying old wooden dock in Key Largo or gets me up at 3 AM to stare blankly at computer screen savers. I’ve never been to the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial not being a veteran of that war during my twenties. Of course with the extreme weather conditions, I was the only person visiting. There are 360 panels, each representing a day of the year including leap year. Each panel contains the names of those men and women who died on that day. I decided to stare at each name, shivering from the brutal 10 degree wind chill cold and then consume random names and commit to my eternal memory. Arthur John Abramoff and Albert Potter became part of my senses. Forty minutes passed until I made the circuitous journey around the memorial, promising to keep committing names to my senses. I might fill up several pages to rip words from the intestinal lining of emotions when seeing names of all those special wonderful young people taken away with so much of life’s promise.

at New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial Ceremony

at New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial Ceremony Cameraman and Me

Six months ago, I knew on this special Veterans Day of 11-11-11, 11:11 AM that I’d be there. But I never dreamt I’d be going as a TV reporter and journalist. Life is something. Once again, it was so cold and windy. One lone tree in the middle of the memorial grounds kept losing leaves that were once green, now brown. One fallen leaf skirted my cheek. I kept looking around at the faces of these amazing veterans. A strange welling in my chest; should I have been with them back then? Five hundred proud Vietnam Veterans gathered. I got to interview on camera Clark Martin, Chairman of the New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial Foundation and Joseph Formola, (“Hero’s don’t wear capes; they wear dog tags.”), Chaplain New Jersey State Council Vietnam Veterans of America and Chester, a proud eloquent Vietnam veteran.

at New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial Ceremony

Everyone said the same thing; how hard it was coming back from Vietnam because of the way they were treated; there was no respect for their sacrifices and patriotism. Chester said it best, “People come up to us now, thank us for serving. That really didn’t happen years ago. Didn’t happen. But it is happening now and that’s beautiful.” I thanked him three times and got all choked up. My video cameraman knew to stop shooting. I need to keep going there. I’ve added John Richard McDonough from South Orange to my senses. It’s hard excavating intestinal linings and emotions. Here’s the link to the video coverage of Veterans Day in New Jersey. (2 minutes):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fYwkaa_xreg&feature=youtu.be

Yes, I dig living to 150 years. The other day I encountered a menu from a fast food place soon opening here in Jersey. I whispered to myself, “Fried Snickers?” Picture attached and I think I’ll take the terse road which may be the high road not the back road to Perdition. One other note on living to 150 years: A glass of pomegranate juice a day could keep the wrinkles away, according to a new study that reveals it slows down the aging process of DNA.

Fried Snickers???

Pomegranate juice

Pomegranate has previously been linked to the prevention of heart disease and stress relief but now researchers from the Probelte Bio Lab in Spain have found that the fruit juice also slows down the natural oxidation (‘wear and tear’) of DNA. During the study, scientists used a potent new type of pomegranate extract including the skin, pith and seeds of the fruit. The 60 participants were asked to take the extract for 30 days in the form of a pill. The results found a significant decrease in a marker associated with cell damage that disrupts brain, muscle, liver and kidney functions, as well as causing aging.

Finally Penn State: There are few words I can excavate now. Enough will be said for years to come. I became friendly with a former pretty good Penn State quarterback from the mid 70’s when I actually used to root for them before I began my love affair to remember with Rutgers. He always talked spirited about Joe Paterno and actually became an assistant strength coach after graduation. One morning in the early 90’s, I had my wheat flakes with sprinkled raisins and felt pretty good as far as throwing a football was concerned. Later that day I was at John’s house in eastern Pennsylvania, sitting in the den when I spotted a football and suggested we go out into his endless backyard and start tossing the football around.

Scarlett O'Hara. Tomorrow is another day??

Who knows, if John never got hurt in senior year, he’s playing on Sunday. So we’re throwing the ball around. I keep backing up knowing I’ve got a pretty good arm. The further back we go, it seems the more effortlessly he’s throwing the ball to me. Then Cher slapped my face and told me to snap out of it. And I did back then. I could never be a quarterback like John. Thing is, I wish upon a fading star of Paterno and Penn State that this was all a nightmare and Cher could slap my face, tell me to snap out just one more time and then Scarlett O’Hara could come along just about now as I finish this blog and say “Tomorrow is another day” But it isn’t.

Cher slaps nick cage You tube (5 seconds)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0x-fkSYDtUY

CONTACT INFORMATION

website: http://vichywater.net/Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter: Earthood

book trailer. hey its 65 seconds long

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qj2ko9gcC_M

IMPORTANT LINKS:

If on Facebook check out this NJ Discover site:

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100000125711074

OR www.njdiscover.com

ARE you in search of another blog that is also outspoken, unique BUT refreshingly, topically unbridled which means uninhibited ???? Meet LINDA CHORNEY:

http://lindachorney.wordpress.com/

Immortality Institute (which represents advocacy and research for unlimited lifespan)

http://www.imminst.org/

August 2011. Guest on Alicia Cramer Show (podcast) “Thin Healthy Happy” :

http://wausauhypnotherapy.podbean.com/2011/08/02/calvin-barry-schwartz-interview-on-living-life/

Comments (7)

September 23, 2011

Troy Davis. Caryl Chessman. Diabetes Update(Living to 150). A Freehold,NJ Civil War Encampment. Tennis: Althea Gibson. Train Whistles. Big East College Conference. September 23, 2011

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: Article, by, idealism, philosophy, Powered — earthood @ 5:54 pm

Troy Davis

Troy Davis. Earlier tonight, I was playing indoor doubles tennis; I hit a blistering passing forehand winner down the middle of the court (if only John McEnroe could’ve seen it). For two seconds, before the next serve, I gloated; it really felt good after the shot; my doubles partner pointed at me; no more high fives (has that gone the way of the vestigial tail?) Thinking back to my formative years, growing up in Newark, no one played tennis; it was football, baseball, basketball and soccer (to accommodate a large European post-war immigration). Curiously, I followed some tennis back in the mid-fifties.

Althea Gibson

Althea Gibson was a hero of mine; overcoming great odds to become the first African-American to be a competitor on the world scene and the first to win a Grand Slam Title in 1956; the year before, my beloved Brooklyn Dodgers won their first World Series with Jackie Robinson; She was sometimes called the ‘Jackie Robinson’ of tennis. I wrote about her hero status in my first novel. Decades go by: I’m married, move to suburbia, have a son and twenty-two years ago, a friend down the block asked me to play tennis to kill time. I’ve been playing obsessively ever since. Seventeen years ago, I even flew to Boca Raton,Florida and enrolled in the Evert/Segusso/Bassett tennis clinic in the middle of the summer; much too hot for normal people to be on a tennis court so there were only two people in the clinic. I had the head instructor all to myself for two days. Part of the clinic was filming my footwork, net play and strokes. On the second day’s end, we viewed the video; the instructor seriously suggested I give-up the game even as I explained the physiology of my tennis; brain patterns doing the wrong thing for years and I can’t change patterns in two days.

Bogart and Dooley Wilson in Rick's Cafe Americain, 'Casablanca'

After winning the first set tonight, I heard a train whistle in the distance; one of the saddest droning sounds you could ever hear. A circus came to town; when dissembled, the clowns, elephants, lions and this mustached man, who swallowed a sword, hopped on a train and disappeared for another lonely year. A woman with long hair tucked neatly under a hat, ran alongside a Pennsylvania Railroad troop train, trying to catch a last glimpse of her husband bound for glory and the war in Europe from which he’d never return; fading blowing whistle finally made her stop running. My mother is near the sound. Humphrey Bogart (Rick Blaine) stood on train steps, hoping Ilsa might still come before he wound up in Casablanca; his raincoat was suddenly dry after pouring rain as the whistle closed the scene and faded to next when earlier he said, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”

Troop Train

YouTube link to a train whistle if you dare:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvanhCQ9jho&feature=related

I missed a few easy balls at the net and I realized why; pre-occupation as the train whistle made me distantly sad and reminded again of last night’s execution of Troy Davis in Georgia. It’s not within the providential confines of this blog to even begin to tackle the myriad of capital punishment issues and history but it’s my blog; my thoughts become molecular energy and escape into the universe, looking like fireflies on a hot August night.

Firefly

Back in the fifties, before learning about environment and the sanctified integrity of life, including insects, we used to collect fireflies in jars, almost like an Olympics event(who can catch the most in five minutes), but we’d release the glowing anomalies back to free nature. If there’s the slightest doubt about innocence, then you don’t take a life. Last week I signed a petition to that effect.

In 1960, I was fifteen, emotional, idealistic, growing like a strange weed from the vacant lot at the end of the block, and fortunately only suffered from acne for six months while held up in an attic with bed, radio and view of Newark Airport. Then our black and white television told us about a convicted rapist in California sentenced to death twice. While on death row for 12 years (gas chamber) Caryl Chessman wrote several books (‘Cell 2455 Death Row’ in 1954) and pleaded for his rehabilitated life. Of course I didn’t understand all the legal jazz, but I remember crying the night they killed him and I’m blogging about it 51 years later, so it impacts me, even now. A few years ago at the University of Michigan, I went to a lecture on equal justice and learned that it’s better to be rich and guilty then poor and innocent in America.

In May 2001, a professional basketball player was convicted of attempted rape (same crime as Chessman) and punishment was a suspended sentence with 15 days house arrest (The NBA suspended him five games) and then he proceeded to sign a $30 million contract. I wonder why there’s amnesia about Chessman. What happened to his unpublished writings? It’s funny/curious how people forget things; back then, there was no Miranda or Fourth Amendment rights against search and seizures. How many white doves will attempt to fly the Atlantic before Troy Davis is forgotten? Why do I get the feeling Chessman was coerced into a confession and when later, he recanted, but it was too late as California hung a capital punishment (gas death) on him based on a now discarded kidnapping statute. And California didn’t want to listen to anything; they just wanted expediency; get him out of the way. Chessman reminded me of Lenny Bruce; both defended themselves and pissed off judge, jury and warden. Chessman did argue he was innocent of the crimes charged and perhaps more proof of that was contained in his last writings which California made disappear. He pissed everybody off; reminds me of the ‘Birdman of Alcatraz’ and once again California’s escutcheon and Georgia’s can’t be far behind. And the Columbia River rolls on and there’s been no capital punishment in California since Chessman. I just opened my office window; humidity, rain and déjà-vu are in the heavy wind swaying the vertical blinds justice.

Me with Union soldiers with Civil War cannon

self explanatory me.

Changing directions: Last Saturday I went to my first Civil War encampment, strangely, ten minutes away from my place of residence and on the grounds of the Monmouth County Historical Society and Museum. For mood effect, it was a perfect cloudy Saturday. Out front, I met a Rhode Island company of Union soldiers guarding a cannon. Out back, with tents, a fire simmering a pot of stew, a few young soldiers with muskets, a man caning a chair; I gravitated to a bearded guitar playing soldier singing a folk song, ‘Nancy Whiskey,’ which I recognized and knew it was written close to 1850; everything around me was timely and accurate.

me and young Union soldiers from New York and my red hat is Rutgers Univ. founded 1766 in keeping with the era.

Union Army folksinger

Suddenly I was back in 1862; the power of several extended blinks. ‘Somewhere in Time’ I felt Civil War emotion, looking around at the encampment, imagining what and where I would’ve been any particular day in September, 1862. I asked this New York regiment’s soldiers about their group and how many were lost as the war dragged on. Losses were heavy (some through desertions). I went back to the singer and drifted to Gettysburg and back to Freehold when I noticed a late model wire fence in the background and found three newly minted pennies in my jeans pocket and I was harshly thrust back to September, 2011. Time for the museum and Civil War exhibits: I found the glue which held and took me back to 1862 again. Fixation with a letter by William Burroughs Ross, a young solider whose life was cut short at 21 years; he wrote this letter to his Mother:

“Dear Mother:

I have been in some high society lately down here. Colonel Hall, Lt. Woodward, Alliston and myself went to Frederick and called on a Miss Cooper, whose father is a General in the Union Army. I took my guitar along. There were several ladies present and we had a glorious time singing, playing and dancing.”

It’s like the letter could’ve been written by my son at summer camp, coincidentally located a few miles from Frederick (Maryland). Of course my son is living in Brooklyn now. Meanwhile 6 million kids’ ages 25 to 34 are back living with their parents again; numbers are up 25% since the economic downturn. But New Jersey still has the second highest per capita income. Back to the museum: perhaps the most revealing and should I say humorous letter, taking a shot at politics with Democrats and Republicans even back in 1862. How things never change. In describing Republican President Abraham Lincoln, after a presidential visit to the troops, this Union soldier wrote, “his unmitigated ugliness is a democratic misrepresentation.”

Letter Re: President Lincoln

Upstairs in the museum I was shown a porcelain collection, some from China, because it was perceived back in the 1860’s that China did it better and cheaper. Again, some things don’t change. I wonder about humans not changing in a few hundred years. I wonder if we’ll ever change when it comes to environmental issues. I remember the biblical Tower of Babel and compare it today’s Tower of Babble(I call it the UN).

If you’ve been reading my blogs, you know I’m a champion of living to 150 years and also avoiding diabetes. All four of my grandparents had diabetes and I’ve been living with a genetic gun to my forehead and pancreas for a long time. I read a lot and come up with notions how not to get the dreaded disease; so far so good after six decades; exercise and more exercise; a fountain of youth. People with diabetes may be twice as likely to develop memory problems and dementia as they age, including Alzheimer’s disease a recent study shows. This risk also appears to be heightened among people with pre-diabetes — people who are on the verge of developing diabetes. Exactly how diabetes and dementia are linked is not fully understood. But the new findings add to growing evidence that what is good for our hearts may also be good for our brains. Finally, researchers have shown they can reverse the aging process for human adult stem cells, which are responsible for helping old or damaged tissues regenerate. The findings could lead to medical treatments that may repair a host of ailments that occur because of tissue damage as people age. So this is good news for living to 150 years.

In my March 11th, April 1st and April 23rd blog, I kind of ‘attacked’ the NCAA and the Big East conference commissioner for allowing, what I perceived, the Rutgers-St. Johns Big East basketball tournament game to be fixed near the end of the game, so that St. Johns could play Syracuse the next day; the match-up was better financially? Events of the last few days brings enormous pressure on the Big East commissioner as Syracuse and Pittsburgh are abandoning the conference, heading to the ACC. My view of the world: a little poetic justice falling in the lap of Mr. Commisioner who, it seemed to me, participated or looked the other way in this tragic stealing a victory away from Rutgers and that Syracuse may’ve now helped pull back the Nerf bow and arrow aimed at this very inept conference commissioner. I want to say there is justice. But there really isn’t. A conference lay in disarray. Oh, I didn’t know this but the Big East rejected admitting Penn State years ago because they were bad in basketball.

Perhaps an innocent man, Troy Davis was executed in the name of expediency. California helped us forget Caryl Chessman. A few hours ago was the last episode of ‘All My Children.’ My first wife made me watch it back in 1970; perhaps that’s why she was a first wife. Strange (foreign) writing has appeared on the bodies of Southwest airlines jets and is especially noticeable when things are heated up; of course I wonder how the writer breached airport security to do that. Movie maker Kevin Smith was kicked off a Southwest Airlines plane in 2010 for being too fat. Kevin may be making a reality TV show based on his comic store in Red Bank, N.J., ‘Jay and Silent Bob’s Secret Stash.’

Mindfully, I’ve been firing away here, trying to lose myself, still feeling sad, empty and confused about the State of Georgia taking a human life when so many were not sure. I suppose, instead of eating a pound of enriched chocolate chip cookies made with dark chocolate, I’d prefer to let streams of consciousness here soulfully sooth. Speaking of Georgia, I just became Facebook friends with a television reporter from Georgia, the Asian country, who’s covering current events for Georgia television in New York City(UN meetings). She asked if I would ever like to talk to her about ‘Americana’ stuff. Suddenly it’s autumn today and I’m thinking about American capital punishment again. Tomorrow is definitely another day; the Big East plays football and I’m ready to talk on camera.

Caryl Chessman and his attorney.

Contact Information:

website: http://vichywater.net

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter: Earthood

book trailer. hey its 65 seconds long

IMPORTANT LINKS:

Immortality Institute (which represents advocacy and research for unlimited lifespan)

http://www.imminst.org/

August 2011. Guest on Alicia Cramer Show (podcast) “Thin Healthy Happy” :
http://wausauhypnotherapy.podbean.com/2011/08/02/calvin-barry-schwartz-interview-on-living-life/

ARE you in search of another blog that is also outspoken, unique BUT
unbridled which means uninhibited ???? Meet LINDA CHORNEY:
http://lindachorney.wordpress.com/

Comments (3)

September 10, 2011

Somalia (East Africa) Famine and Western Monmouth County Boutique Food Markets (a long title). OUR TOWN/Barfly Newspaper. A Hero Comes to Town (John Dean): Dilemma? Living beyond 150 Years: IMMORTALITY INSTITUTE. A Riveting Documentary: “Rebirth” Saturday September 10, 2011

Filed under: November 2009 — Tags: Article, Dashboard, idealism, philosophy, Powered — earthood @ 12:59 am

Somalia: I’ve been blogging about it ‘subliminally’ the last month. No more subliminal. A few weeks ago we hit the beach at the Jersey Shore with an old Newark high school friend, wife and daughter. Friendship began during Eisenhower’s last year in office and wrapped up in September, 1963 when Michael went to Rutgers, New Brunswick(was it really called the ‘Berkeley’ of the east referencing Rutgers’ free speech movement involvement?) and I was sent to Toledo; thus began our drifting apart which lasted through 35 years and a few wars. At a Weequahic High School 35th reunion, we fittingly reunited and now share bonds of being Rutgers alumni (I made it to Rutgers, Newark in 1965). In April, 1963 my friend Michael mailed (without a stamp) a forged, concocted letter indicating I’ve been asked to represent America in a basketball tournament overseas. You can imagine my jubilation until my father pointed out the fabrication. Now we laugh about his practical joke.

corn shucks

On the beach under an increasingly cloudy sky, we invited Michael and family to dinner. Three hours before they arrived, I accompanied my wife to Wegman’s food market for supplies and ammunition (wine). Once a year, I make it into that store as I’m not from the shoppers and care little about food, preparation, presentation or origins. When I stopped eating red meat in 1975, I soon discovered that lettuce is lettuce and people are people; lettuce has the same taste on top of the 66th floor as in a basement cafeteria. Walking into the vastness of Wegman’s, I gasped while barely able to see to the other end of the store while millions across southern Somalia abandoned their homes looking for food. My wife said, “Just push the cart, stay close and don’t throw any impulse things in.” And a man carried his two children on his shoulders during their hundreds of miles trek eastward for food. When he realized they were dead, he stopped to bury them. Our first stop in what I call a boutique food market experience was produce.

Presentation is everything; there was even a display for shucking corn (shucks?) and fancy containers (garbage cans) for depositing silks and excesses. Fruits and vegetables as far as myopic eyes could see; some varieties actually looked GM (genetically modified, not the car company) or props from the movie, “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids;’ huge succulent fruits and vegetables.

Grocery stores take in $470 billion a year. Wegman’s carries 70,000 items as compared to the industry average of 40,000. The number of Somali children with severe acute malnutrition was 170,000. Droughts in Somalia used to occur once a decade; now every two years. Climate change? While Somalia has a famine producing drought,New Jersey has been socked by the rainiest August in history and the lines of food buyers at Wegman’s in preparation for impending storms have been as bad as the gas shortage lines of 1973. I had a Volkswagen back then and had the temerity to attempt illegal siphoning and caught a gaseous mouthful because I didn’t know what I was doing. Somalia has a war going on which complicates food deliveries. A little boy in a shopping cart was fighting with his mother in front of me. Two bags of bite size branded chocolate candies were adeptly swiped off a shelf while cart was in slow motion and another bag fell to the floor; the woman picked it up yelling, exposing a flowery tattoo. That was enough for me; I walked down the vitamin aisles. Living to 150 years, I’m always looking for better mouse-trap organic anti-oxidants. Meanwhile, my wife called me on the cell phone to find out where I was.

me doing a real keg stand. gold medal?

Western famine aid agencies are fearful because of unrest and fortify themselves near the airport where relief food is flown in. Three weeks after the UN declared a famine (and several flights of food arriving daily) food had yet to make it out of the airport (Mogadishu) to a refugee camp 300 feet away. When supermarket check-out food lines are long, a loud-speaker calls for more cashiers up front. Dinner with Michael and family was sumptuous; they left after 1 AM. At 2 AM tossing and turning, I came downstairs to my computer and read more about Somalia. I don’t know. I don’t know. There, I said it twice and I feel strangely helplessly empty.

My wrists hurt; rope burns? Google just announced they are buying Zagat’s restaurant review, which services millions of readers and reviewers who love to talk about their favorite restaurants. Google wants to be closer to us. While I’m on a foodie roll here in Western Monmouth County; ‘Whole Foods’ is coming to town near Wegman’s and rumor has it that ‘Trader Joe’s,’ another upscale food store is also thinking about coming here; people love to eat and spend middle-class money. A ‘Costco’ just opened a month ago near me with humongous industrial sized packages of food. Word on the street, how successful they’ve been, spread like a wildfire, so perhaps ‘Trader Joes’ wants a piece of our food fight pie. The WFP (World Food Programme) tweeted back in August that their airlifts will bring enough high-energy biscuits to Eastern Africa to feed 1.6 million people. They later clarified the tweet; the 1.6 million people would be fed for just one day and that airlifts were not to Mogadishu. A few of my friends were ecstatic about ‘Trader Joe’s.’ I think they tweeted their followers with this news that’s not really fit to tweet. I just rubbed a soothing balm on my wrists.

Kutsher's Hotel in Catskills

This just in, keeping with ‘food theme’ of the last paragraph; ‘Kutsher’s Tribeca’ is a new restaurant, opening soon in Tribeca, New York City, taking its name and heritage from Kutsher’s Hotel in the Catskill Mountains. A hotel son, Zach Kutsher got the idea to bring it to life. Expect matzoh crusted chicken and other traditional modernized foods.

The blog title says OUR TOWN/Barfly newspapers. I should formally acknowledge that I’ve become a columnist for a new dynamic Monmouth County newspaper; my beat; music, theatre, jetties, culture, art, film, eclectic people and happenings throughout the county. Funny thing forum wise: I’ve been partaking all along. The Barfly section features local bar/music/sports-viewing scene. Another funny thing; in the past, I’ve referred to my youthful accomplishments/milestones relevant to the ingestion of beer in Olympic style events; keg stands and beer pong. A picture of me keg-standing is herewith included. It should also be stated that these undertakings are strictly for the purposes of bonding with the millennial generation (younger than springtime and letters x, y and z?); all part of a grandiose picture and favorite pursuit; living to 150 years (you have to believe); ergo do young things.

Who said, “You have to believe”? Jerry Dandridge (Chris Sarandon) said those words in 1985 ‘Fright Night;’ an enjoyable horror fantasy that my son and I watch all the time; part of my keeping up and young. They just remade that movie. We’re not talking about 1939 ‘Wuthering Heights’ being remade. ‘Fright Night’ is 25 years old. Hollywood can’t come up with originality; maybe budget constraints. Speaking of budgets, enough states are turning to expanded casino gambling for added tax revenue. Governor Cuomo in New York is looking at non-Indian casinos; same thing in Chicago. Now back to the 150 year future.

Roger Bacon 13th century

This 150 year gig has been a regular feature of this blog from inception. As a sophomore back at Rutgers, I decided not to age traditionally. So what is written here is practiced. A long time ago (13th century) the English philosopher Roger Bacon wrote that aging is caused by the progressive loss of vital spirit. To extend life span, he advised old men to spend time in the company of young women. He was right about aging and the loss of vital spirit. Biologists at USC discovered major declines in the availability of an enzyme, known as the Lon protease, as human cells grow older. The finding may help explain why humans lose energy with age and could point medicine toward new diets or pharmaceuticals to slow the aging process.

A few weeks ago, after careful research, I joined the Immortality Institute (which represents advocacy and research for unlimited lifespans)

Please explore their website: http://www.imminst.org/

There’s a brave new world out there. A few weeks ago I went to a lecture with Ray Kurzweil, futurist, genius and Dr. Michio Kaku, astro-physicist, genius and an array of intellects. Bottom line: If we can make it the next fifteen years intact, then with knowledge (and computer chip’s power) dramatically increasing, we’ll really be able to get to 150 years with quality of life and abundant tennis court time. Maybe grow a new liver or heart when you need it (in an hour?) Thing is, you have to begin understanding prospects and realities; start fighting for your right to live to 150 years and way beyond.

On the wing. Still scares me. From the Twilight Zone.

And I’m not Rod Serling or some strange dude sitting on the wing of an airplane. Jump into the Immortality Institute, jump off a sofa or easy chair and open mind. In 2005 Kurzweil published ‘The Singularity is Near’ where he writes that in the not too distant future, the human brain may be uploaded to a computer. Jumping around a bit more, there’s some buzz about lemons (citrus) not liking cancer. More cancer info( if no cancer, 150 looks better): Dana-Farber Cancer Institute scientists have successfully disrupted function of a cancer gene involved in forming most human tumors by tampering with the gene’s “on” switch and growth, rather than targeting the gene itself. The results, from multiple myeloma cells, offer a hopeful strategy for treating not only myeloma but other cancer types driven by the gene MYC. But who decides who shall live?

On Wednesday night I went to a Long Branch business networking party to support ‘Kick Cancer Overboard.’ Got a chance to meet a bright, effusive, energetic young man running for Monmouth County,N.J. Freeholder (Bill Shea).

Monmouth County Freeholder Candidate Bill Shea and me.

I love youthful exuberance, idealism, sincerity and beginnings of a new promising political career. And I never look at red or blue just content of character. In a couple of months John Dean is coming to Rutgers University to talk. Here’s my John Dean dilemma story. In the waning months of my first marriage, in an attempt to save it, we took a few weeks off and hit three capes on vacation; Cod, May and Hatteras.

The summer of 1973: John Dean is testifying in the Watergate Hearings while we’re inCape Cod. Heavy rain all week so I stayed in the motel room glued, watching Dean’s power of total recall (telling Nixon “that there was a cancer growing on the presidency and that if the cancer was not removed the president himself would be killed by it.”) The mind of Dean fascinated me; so did Watergate; and so did Nixon telling America he wasn’t a crook. And my marriage was washing away as I absorbed John Dean and wife Maureen sitting right behind him (a show of support that I never got). My marriage ended when “the leaves that are green turn to brown” (from a great Simon and Garfunkel song) )see below for YouTube link to song)

All these years I’ve wanted to tell John Dean that he’s a hero of mine. Ben Bradlee was my hero too; (‘All The President’s Men’) Editor of The Washington Post. I got to tell Bradlee my hero stuff a few years ago. When John Dean appears, the Rutgers Women’s Basketball team play Boston College at the same time. I don’t miss many Rutgers teams playing; a palpable dilemma. “We’ll see,” my mother used to say as a deflection.

John Dean testifying, I watched in Cape Cod for a week.

Ben Bradlee(former editor of Washington Post) my hero. and me.

Last night I went to a preview showing of the documentary “Rebirth,” at the Count Basie Theatre in Red Bank, N.J.

(For more information: http://projectrebirth.org/

The film, wondrously directed by Jim Whitaker, documents the lives of five people impacted by the events of 9-11 from 2002 to 2009. It’ll be on Showtime. I was riveted and for a rarified time in the life, I hardly moved for the entire full feature length; my knees frozen imbedded into the soft fabric of a rare empty seat in front(my cuticles reddened). I just spoke to my son living in Brooklyn and suggested he come home for the 9-11 remembrance weekend. He said, “Dad, I have to live.” He’s right. I’m kind of blitzed right now; Somalia. 9-11. Think now I need to pour a little borscht (that red beet Russian soup still popular in Europe).

Borscht

Streams of consciousness move me. A reckless ostrich is in my garage, scratching on the kitchen door, wanting to come in from the cold. I hear Lenny Bruce and Richard Pryor cracking jokes; they make me laugh. I need that. Laughter is the best medicine but it doesn’t take reality away. Strange: this morning while playing doubles tennis in a local park, I heard bagpipes. And it was hard to play after that. I missed a few balls, staring at blue sky; the exact same sky as a decade ago. I always blog about sitting on my Belmar, N.J. jetty, watching ships head to Kilimanjaro. Now, suddenly, I wish all those ships were heading to Mogadishu, Somalia. I’ll keep wishing that while rubbing more anesthetic balm on my wrists.

Richard Pryor. How he made me laugh. and laugh.

Contact Information:

website: http://vichywater.net

Facebook: Cal Schwartz

Twitter: Earthood

Book Trailer 65 seconds long

Leaves That Are Green (Simon and Garfunkel): You Tube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IZid4klb9OU

IMPORTANT LINKS:

Immortality Institute (which represents advocacy and research for unlimited lifespan) http://www.imminst.org/

August 2011. Guest on Alicia Cramer Show (podcast) “Thin Healthy Happy” :
http://wausauhypnotherapy.podbean.com/2011/08/02/calvin-barry-schwartz-interview-on-living-life/

ARE you in search of another blog that is also outspoken, unique BUT
unbridled which means uninhibited ???? Meet Linda Chorney:
http://lindachorney.wordpress.com/

Comments (3)

Vichy Water – Author's Blog Just another WordPress weblog

November 24, 2011

Happy Thanksgiving. John Dean(The Watergate Guy). An Amazing Asbury Park Jazz Concert. No More Wire Hangars and No More BPA (lining of canned foods) A Bruce Springsteen Book Review. “The Light In Darkness.” Occupy Class Distinction? November 24, 2011

November 13, 2011

A Late Blog Explanation. New Jersey Vietnam Veterans Memorial (Veterans Day Ceremony) A Menu for the Ages. Penn State. Living to 150 Years (Pomegranate Juice) November 13, 2011

September 23, 2011

Troy Davis. Caryl Chessman. Diabetes Update(Living to 150). A Freehold,NJ Civil War Encampment. Tennis: Althea Gibson. Train Whistles. Big East College Conference. September 23, 2011

September 10, 2011

Somalia (East Africa) Famine and Western Monmouth County Boutique Food Markets (a long title). OUR TOWN/Barfly Newspaper. A Hero Comes to Town (John Dean): Dilemma? Living beyond 150 Years: IMMORTALITY INSTITUTE. A Riveting Documentary: “Rebirth” Saturday September 10, 2011