2/14/07
Heart-felt V-Day tales
Tri-O's Oddities, observations, and opinions
By Herb Kandel
V for Verity (your choice)
Here we are again on this day of hearts and flowers in celebration of St. Valentine. Inquiring minds may ask: who was this person and why does this day inspire approximately 188 million cards to be exchanged (not counting kids’ classroom card swapping), making Valentine’s Day the second largest date for giving greeting cards along with helping the U.S. Postal Service (as almost 50% are hand delivered)?
One legend has it that Valentine was a priest in third century Rome when Emperor Claudius II ruled. Claudius reasoned that single men fought harder in combat than those with wives and families, so he outlawed marriage for young men. One would assume that the brides-to-be were hopping mad, to say nothing of the caterers, and so was Valentine, who, to defy this injustice, continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When his actions were discovered, Claudius ordered that he be put to death.
Another version has Valentine killed for attempting to help Christians escape barbaric Roman prisons where they were treated harshly. He wanted to exchange the lash with love.
Yet a different account has Valentine sending the first 'valentine' greeting himself. It was said that Valentine, while in prison, fell in love with the young girl (speculation has it that it was the jailor's daughter) who visited him during his confinement. His final letter to her, before he was dispatched to meet his fellow saints, was signed 'From your Valentine'
Take your choice but the occasion accentuates his charismatic personality as a compassionate, gallant, and romantic figure. So when you present or are the recipient of sweets, flowers, and other gifts remember to be thankful for St. Val …but no matter how appreciative you may be, it will not come close to those of Mr. Hallmarks’.
V for Valor
Apropos to this red letter day there is this touching story of two kindred souls who were born in the same town just a few miles apart. One grew up in a family that spared no expense when it came to his well being and toys. The other had a meager start in life and she learned to make do with what was presented her. They first met in a park when they were young. As they romped about, a bond was established unbeknown to them. Time passed, he went to school, learned a lot, then put all this training to work; whereas she was home schooled, very protected and sheltered. Although they lived only several miles apart they did not meet again until years later.
It was at a medical facility. He was there to get his shots when she strolled in for a check-up. They first gazed at each other and recognition dawned slowly. Ted remembered where they had met but it took Sara a little longer. Much time had passed since they had last been together and neither wanted that to happen again. Each hoped that they would get the opportunity to meet soon again. Destiny was to play a hand as you will see.
Ted was doing work for the police department, and she was a domestic.
One chilly afternoon there was a terrible explosion in the part of town where Sara lived. A gas line had ruptured, a spark from an electric motor ignited it. Several homes caught the brunt. They were quickly reduced to rubble. The fire fighters and police emergency units were called. The fire was put out in short order but beneath the debris some residents were trapped. Moans and cries for help were given swift attention.
After several hours it all the people known to have been living in the area were accounted for. Everyone except Sara.
The police unit was there going over the devastation, Ted among them. Hopes were getting slimmer by the minute. The cold was giving way to sleet making the search for survivors even more treacherous. They were about to call a halt but Ted persisted in his exploring every inch of the area despite fatigue and deteriorating weather.
It was he who heard that ever so feeble cry from an exhausted throat. Ted started digging with an intensity not witnessed before . Others seeing his desperation quickly started to help him. The sounds were now more distinct as the house innards were peeled away. In a few moments Sara was seen then lifted out of the place where she had been trapped. She looked over her shoulder saw Ted. She knew instinctively that it was he who had found her. In a wail like tone, with an intense stare she bellowed “ ME OWW” . Those there swear it sounded like “Thank you”. Meanwhile Ted just pawed the ground in a John Wayne stance.
Ted was awarded K-9 of the Year on Valentine’s Day. Sara was in attendance.
Note to my BH (Better Half)--Happy Valentine’s Day
END
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Sunday, February 04, 2007
1/31/07
Déjà vu, times two
Tri-O's Oddities, observations, and opinions
By Herb Kandel
Some see the world in a crystal ball, others in tea leaves or tarot cards. I recently felt immersed in a similar situation but mine happened over a plastic encased menu. The realization that I was part of the scenario came to me slowly as I observed and later became aware of what was taking place in my immediate surroundings. It happened last week as I sat alone in a restaurant , a notch above the fast food variety, having lunch after concluding some personal business in Pensacola. My seat faced the entrance where incoming diners waited to be seated, to the right was the cash register where exiting customers paid their dining bill. From this vantage point comings and goings became a passing parade.
The entire scene was evolving into something familiar but I could not put my finger on it at the time. Let me tell you what was happening within this limited sphere of my booth and you'll better understand this seeming déjà vu.
Waiting for the hostess to seat them was a young couple with an infant, the sleeping child was Oriental, not so the assumed parents. Behind them were three teen-age girls giggling over something. Making their way haltingly to the register was an elderly man and woman, both pushed walkers in front of them and each was accompanied by a caregiver whom I later saw assist them into a car. There at table to my left were grandparents discussing, in elevated voices of the hard of hearing, what to give their grandchild for her birthday as they sipped their milkshakes. A very obviously pregnant woman was trying to get the attention of a server, she wanted additional pickles for her sandwich. Waiting in the register line were three men in hard hats each a different ethnicity. The servers were mostly college students who zipped between tables with the energy that is only in my memory. The couple with the infant was shown to a table that a young man and woman just vacated, these two were holding hands and smiling at each other as they lined up behind the hard hats.
The whole scene to me became a microcosm of Life itself. Here was the whole gamut, the entire cycle surrounding me, with the exception of it’s conception and demise.
Where had I experienced this feeling before? The file cabinet of memory slowly opened to reveal two instances where the person becomes the spectator, removed from the actual events but absorbing the ambiance.
One was in the work of Christopher Isherwood who wrote “The Berlin Stories” which was made into a play in 1951 and a film in 1955 called “I Am A Camera” and later into the 1972 musical “Cabaret”. In it Isherwood says, “I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking.” He gave us a snapshot of a time and place. Although his ‘camera’ focused on Berlin in the early 1930’s the sight from my viewfinder, by comparison, was indeed more prosaic because of setting and circumstance.
The second reminder was from a 1948 movie adapted from a Pulitzer prize play by William Saroyan, “The Time of Your Life”. In it the main character (played by James Cagney) sits in a dilapidated bar and observes the colorful patrons in their eccentricities. Cagney was not only was a observer but also a participant in the happenings which changed the course of the characters lives, whereas mine was strictly a benign awareness of the proximate life stages.
There was a keen sense of discovery and awe as a witness to the sequence of human transience, here, alone. “The world may be your oyster” to paraphrase the old idiom but my revelation came while waiting for a cheeseburger, fries, and hold the onion.
END
Déjà vu, times two
Tri-O's Oddities, observations, and opinions
By Herb Kandel
Some see the world in a crystal ball, others in tea leaves or tarot cards. I recently felt immersed in a similar situation but mine happened over a plastic encased menu. The realization that I was part of the scenario came to me slowly as I observed and later became aware of what was taking place in my immediate surroundings. It happened last week as I sat alone in a restaurant , a notch above the fast food variety, having lunch after concluding some personal business in Pensacola. My seat faced the entrance where incoming diners waited to be seated, to the right was the cash register where exiting customers paid their dining bill. From this vantage point comings and goings became a passing parade.
The entire scene was evolving into something familiar but I could not put my finger on it at the time. Let me tell you what was happening within this limited sphere of my booth and you'll better understand this seeming déjà vu.
Waiting for the hostess to seat them was a young couple with an infant, the sleeping child was Oriental, not so the assumed parents. Behind them were three teen-age girls giggling over something. Making their way haltingly to the register was an elderly man and woman, both pushed walkers in front of them and each was accompanied by a caregiver whom I later saw assist them into a car. There at table to my left were grandparents discussing, in elevated voices of the hard of hearing, what to give their grandchild for her birthday as they sipped their milkshakes. A very obviously pregnant woman was trying to get the attention of a server, she wanted additional pickles for her sandwich. Waiting in the register line were three men in hard hats each a different ethnicity. The servers were mostly college students who zipped between tables with the energy that is only in my memory. The couple with the infant was shown to a table that a young man and woman just vacated, these two were holding hands and smiling at each other as they lined up behind the hard hats.
The whole scene to me became a microcosm of Life itself. Here was the whole gamut, the entire cycle surrounding me, with the exception of it’s conception and demise.
Where had I experienced this feeling before? The file cabinet of memory slowly opened to reveal two instances where the person becomes the spectator, removed from the actual events but absorbing the ambiance.
One was in the work of Christopher Isherwood who wrote “The Berlin Stories” which was made into a play in 1951 and a film in 1955 called “I Am A Camera” and later into the 1972 musical “Cabaret”. In it Isherwood says, “I am a camera with its shutter open, quite passive, recording, not thinking.” He gave us a snapshot of a time and place. Although his ‘camera’ focused on Berlin in the early 1930’s the sight from my viewfinder, by comparison, was indeed more prosaic because of setting and circumstance.
The second reminder was from a 1948 movie adapted from a Pulitzer prize play by William Saroyan, “The Time of Your Life”. In it the main character (played by James Cagney) sits in a dilapidated bar and observes the colorful patrons in their eccentricities. Cagney was not only was a observer but also a participant in the happenings which changed the course of the characters lives, whereas mine was strictly a benign awareness of the proximate life stages.
There was a keen sense of discovery and awe as a witness to the sequence of human transience, here, alone. “The world may be your oyster” to paraphrase the old idiom but my revelation came while waiting for a cheeseburger, fries, and hold the onion.
END
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