THANKSGIVING

I'm thankful it's stopped raining, and that the windstorm didn't cause me any damage.

I'm thankful to be in reasonably good health, all things considered, and that I have my faculties (although my memory largely resides in my computer these days).

I'm thankful for my friends and family, near and far.

I'm thankful for the genius on the TV show Castle who decided to have someone actually write the Nikki Heat novels.

I'm thankful I don't have to eat turkey, but that I was able over the past couple of days to help the Neighborhood Center provide over four hundred Camden families with the opportunity.

And finally, I'm thankful for the thirty-seven years Cynthia and I had together, and I hope her Heaven has a big flower garden.

THE NEIGHBORHOOD CENTER - CAMDEN

Last Thanksgiving, casting about for something to do with myself, I decided I should do a volunteer stint.  Not belonging to any church or service organization, I wasn't sure where to go, so I asked my trusty Google, and noticed this place in Camden serving meals. 

I imagine there may be similar places closer to home, but Camden is really the neediest spot in south Jersey.  Anyway, it appears there were others who shared my urge, and they had more of us volunteers than they really needed.  I guess everyone figures that Thanksgiving is the day to show up, but this place's mission is broader than the one day. 

So this year, I'm working the Monday and Tuesday before Thanksgiving in their 'grocery store'.

Some food banks pre-package the shopping bags for folks, but the Neighborhood Center sets up more like a real store and allows folks to pick and choose in various categories.  Families have to sign up in advance, so they know how many will be expected (around 450 this year) and can group stuff so everyone gets a pretty even chance at the kind of meal they want.  Shoppers even have their choice of turkey or ham.  It's more work for us, but there's a little more dignity involved for the patrons.

By the way, it irks me that people seem to use a giving opportunity like this just to clean out their cupboards with no thought as to what might actually be needed.  I mean, who eats sauerkraut for Thanksgiving?  Oh, well.  Anything for a tax deduction.  And you can tell that most of the givers are not from the community - there was no okra, for example.  But the generosity was otherwise heartwarming. 

There was an orientation and lunch for volunteers on Saturday, and a student jazz group from the Center's after-school program provided some very good entertainment.

The Neighborhood Center is a hundred-year-old community organization that provides nutrition support, daycare services, a safe after-school location, and a preschool.  It's not a church, but is supported in one way or another by local churches.  The main building even looks something like a church, but it was purpose-built in 1925.

Here's the link to their website.

http://www.ncicamden.org/about-us/mission-and-history/

Give 'em a little cash, if you feel the urge.

IT'S ONLY THE WIND

During the wind storm I alluded to the other night, I heard a loud thump from the back of the house.  I was afraid the wind had ripped off some of the plastic roof panels from the back porch, as had happened in Sandy.  But when I checked, they were all secure.  The next morning, however, the source of the noise was revealed.  The wind had managed to blow my canoe off its resting place on the end of my deck.  This beast is all aluminum and weighs 85 pounds, so this was quite a feat.  Since smaller items had not been blown away, I surmise that the wind got under the canoe and lifted it off.  I'll have to come up with a way to tie it down, I suppose.  Here are before & after pictures.

WINTER - FINALLY

It has been an unusually long time in coming, but Mother Nature has finally brought winter to the East coast.  The temperatures which once hovered in the 60's have fled, and we're down to much more seasonal 40's for daytime highs.  And we've finally started dipping below freezing at night.

Outside tonight the wind is howling, and the ground is white, although with some mini-hail or sleet, not snow.

This is my kind of weather, and I've been able to break out the heavy coat at last.  In the summer I just look fat, but bundled up in my winter duds I am a much more imposing figure.

Still, as I sit here listening to the wind, I must admit it is the sort of night where I'm glad I'm tucked indoors with my Jamison-laced decaf.

NEW GUILTY PLEASURE - NIKKI HEAT

I've been a fan of the TV show Castle for some time now, and I've finally broken down and bought my first Nikki Heat novel.  For those of you who are not fans, here's a guide.  'Castle' is about a writer who gets a gig following a female NYC homicide detective around to gather material for a series of novels he will base on her.  The series is as much about the evolving dynamic between Rick Castle (Nathan Fillion) and Detective Kate Beckett (Stana Katic) as it is about the murders they solve.  New episodes air on ABC on Monday night, with reruns on TNT.  In any event, the fake writer (or the show's writer(s), anyway) has now written five real novels starring Detective Heat, and I have just finished my first - 'Heat Wave'  (It was also my first e-book, by the way.) 

One thing I'm puzzling over is whether the book would be as much fun without the images of the characters from the TV show.  It appears to be pretty well written, but I'm hardly a literary critic.  I would expect good writing, of course, from a show that features guest appearances by James Patterson and the late Stephen J. Cannell as Castle's poker buddies.  But the book was a hoot.

One of the images I had to choose in my head was who to visualize as Nikki Heat.  Let me explain.  In season 3 it develops that Hollywood is going to make Heat Wave into a movie, and the precinct is visited by the actress who will play Nikki, Natalie Rhodes (Laura Prepon).  During the course of the episode, Natalie gets progressively further into the character of Nikki, and into Beckett's head as well.  Here is a shot of the two of them.  That's Natalie as Nikki on the left, and Det. Beckett on the right.  Now as much as I love Beckett's character, I try to see Natalie when reading the book.

 
Did I say this was a hoot!

Plus the both of them are seriously hot!

AUCTIONS ARE ODD

I've always known that the business of buying and selling what I call 'stuff'', whether it be antiques, collectibles, or everyday junk, is subject to the whims of buyers and sellers.  I remember a Tiffany lamp I had one time that dozens of people told me was over-priced, until the day someone bought it and thanked me for giving him such a bargain. 

Today at an estate auction in Freehold I got another couple of samples.  They sold a very nice small fiberglass sailboat, about 16-18 feet, in excellent condition, with a trailer, for $275!!!  The trailer's worth that much.  This thing was pristine, having obviously been kept under cover in a barn.  It was all I could do not to bid on it at that ridiculous price, but I'm an indifferent sailor, and my canoe is perfectly capable of dunking me, thank you very much.

On the other end of the scale, they sold a polished rectangular block of some heavy wood, about 12"x6"x3", obviously a doorstop, for $45!!!

All day long, things went for too much or too little.  I got a couple of box lots for $15 each, on the too little end of the scale.  What a business.

AWFUL MOMENTS

I’ve essentially turned off my television for the next week.  The new Time Magazine showed up in my mailbox today with the all-too-familiar picture of a Dallas motorcade on the cover.  It will be everywhere for the next seven days.  There are two such searing events in the lives of most of us, three for those of our parents’ generation, and each is burned into us in such a way as to become part of who we are.  This post appears in both my personal and my political blogs because of this duality, a national experience personally shared and experienced.

I first began to feel old when a group of co-workers and I were exchanging reminiscences of where we were that November day when the news came, and a bright young thing piped up: “I hadn’t been born yet”.  And in my mind I thought: ‘really, it’s been that long?’  I do, of course, remember that day with some embarrassment since I made some smart-assed remark to the first kid to stick his head in the 10^th grade geometry class window to say: “the president’s been shot”.  In my defense, none of us could believe the news at first, but I, always quick with the least appropriate statement, said something like: “who, Lincoln?”

Anyway, I still cannot view that Dallas footage, and so I’m giving up TV for a week, just as I do for the week after Labor Day each year, and as our parents do around the first week of December.  I can’t even look at the weather channel since I’m sure they’re planning a special on why good weather led to Kennedy’s shooting.  Even one of my favorite escapist TV shows – Bones – did an episode on the assassination once.

One of the main reasons I can’t watch is that I can’t take the barrage of ‘experts’, each claiming they’ve proven some conspiracy theory: there were two assassins; Roosevelt knew the Japanese were coming; the CIA/mob/Cubans killed Kennedy; Bush and Condoleezza Rice knew what the hijackers were planning, and so on.  In my mind, these wild-eyed fame-chasers are just a subset of our polarized, screaming society, where tables are being pounded and spittle is flying on every channel, from all sides of the political spectrum, on TV or You-Tube, and each has a more horrible allegation regarding his opponent than the next.

So now, especially now, by all the Gods you profess to believe in, can you all please just SHUT UP!

POMPEII EXHIBIT

My sister and I went to the new Pompeii exhibit at the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia, and while it was nice enough, I’m afraid I was disappointed.  The exhibit does give a very clear picture of life in and around 79CE, mostly as enjoyed by wealthier Roman citizens.  There is a wide range of everyday items, like pots and fishing gear, as well as some astonishingly intricate gold and silver jewelry.  All of this is instructive and interesting, but all related to life.  What the exhibit fails to convey is the awful death these people suffered. 

Those who know me well know that I wear a silver ring containing a black piece of Vesuvius rock.  I bought this some 40 years ago when I visited Pompeii for real.  The ancient city and its attendant volcano were only a short bus-ride from the naval base at Naples, where my ship was home-ported.  I have tried and failed many times to convey how absolutely eerie it was to walk around in those deathly quiet streets.  Such tourists as there were spoke in hushed tones, partly because voices spoken aloud would echo through the empty streets and shops.  You could really feel the ghosts of the departed population.

The Franklin Institute tries to convey the destruction and terror, and largely fails.  A short film compressing an eruption lasting a day and a half into a few minutes was not very convincing, although the animated pyroclastic flow at the end was quite dramatic.  People actually coughed on the stage mist as though it were really dust.  But it was inadequate.  I also think that four were too few of the casts of the dead to really convey any scale.  Many thousands died.

The exhibit’s worth the price of admission, partly because you also get general admission to the Franklin Institute itself, and can play with the toys.  But if you get the chance, go and see the real thing.  Here are four pictures I took in my visit all those years ago.

This is the mosaic tile floor of the entryway to a residence, undoubtedly belonging to one of the wealthier residents.

This is how people crossed the streets, which for the most part were muddy sewers.  The breaks in the pathway were for wagons and chariots.

This is a sign painted on the wall.  It might be a street name or the business name.

Finally, here is a shot down one of the streets.  Dozens of similar street have been excavated, all in about the same state of destruction.  The silence was palpable.

AUTUMN WALK

As I often do on Sunday, I took my walk in Mill Creek park, where Cynthia and I would regularly go.  It's a 178-acre green space, which is a lot of area to take up in a township that's only 7.8 square miles, and about half of it is wooded.  It's also home to the deer herd that ravage our gardens from time to time.  It's a little late to see much color, and we've had an odd fall; it's been so warm.  But it's a beautiful walk, and I thought I'd share some pictures of this favorite spot.  The 25-foot hill on the right side of the picture is where I can get additional exercise.  After all, there are no hills in South Jersey to match the Palisades.

Here's the view from that little height, back over the pond.

There's a memorial garden near the entrance, and Cynthia has a tree here.  It's still small since the original, planted last fall, didn't survive Superstorm Sandy.

Not all markers are in the garden.  The gravel path around the pond is the Ben Levi walk, and at the high point of the walking path (which is along the tree line in the first picture) is this marker:

I never met Phil Goldin that I knew of, unfortunately, but I'm sure we passed one another on this path.  This is the view back towards the exercise hill.

It's a beautiful spot, and a great way to get a couple of miles under my belt (and there's a Dunkin' Donuts in the little shopping center outside the park, so I could reward myself with some coffee, because it was nippy today).