The Family Stone

No, I'm not talking about the 60's soul group.
But rather, the cornerstone of every family.
Mom.
Sure, Dad was the one who more often than not, worked outside the home to provide a living for the family.
The money he earned is what Mom used to provide the food on the table, pay the bills to make sure the phone and lights stayed on, and bought the clothes on your backs.
But everyone remembers Mom.
And Dad is OK with that.
Well, he's learned to be, anyway.  But don't worry, he's fine.
Because Mom provided everything I just mentioned...plus more.
She was the first person you went to for comfort.  Whether you scraped your knee in the driveway, or even more complex matters when you arrived with a suitcase, saying your spouse told you over dinner that he or she wanted a divorce.
Dad can't compete with that.
We're the problem solvers.  We don't have the patience to simply listen, and not offer any input unless specifically asked.  We're just not wired that way.
And when Mom is gone forever, we feel a huge hole in ourselves with a stinging pain that just won't go away.
We still rely on Mom.  Even though we may grit our teeth and complain about her later on in life.
She calls and interrupts you at work for something that could have waited until later that evening.
Or she plies your kid with treats when you come over, about an hour after they picked at lunch and ate almost nothing.
She may pick at how you raise your child, why you don't call or come over more often, your relationship with your siblings, how you can leave the house practically naked, why you chose the not-so-lucrative career path you did, why you can't seem to manage your finances to save your life, and even why you chose the person you married.
But you still need her.  Whether you'll admit it or not.
Even those with stormy childhoods, sometimes at the hands of an abusive mother, still feel that ache of what's lacking.  And longing for it.
This person carried you in her body for nine months.  Possibly nursed you afterwards.  Spent the majority of time with you in your youngest years.
And tolerated your teenage rebellion with the patience of a saint.  Whether you sneaked her debit card out of her purse to pay for those concert tickets she wouldn't buy for you, wrecked the brand-new family car less than a week after getting your driver's license, 'borrowed' her best dress to wear to school that day and permanently stained it, or complained about her to your friend on the phone, and within earshot.
Mom was, and still is, a three-letter word for unconditional love.
On this Mother's Day, I ask that you take the time to celebrate your mother.  Give her a call or stop over.  Let her know you care.  And if you too are a mother, celebrate your motherhood.
If you're married to a mother, celebrate your wife and what she's accomplished as a mother.
If your mother has passed on, take some time to reflect.  Think about how she made you the person you are today...whether it's good or bad.  Don't be afraid to cry if it makes you feel better.
You're never too old to love your mother.
Or want her near.
You can reach for that box of tissues now.
It's OK.
Really.


NEXT WEEK:  Legislative Term Limits

Is the Right Wrong?

NOTE:  The views and opinions expressed in the following are strictly that of the author.


The so-called Religious Right.  Those that belong to it are pretty much a quick study.
They drive the minivans.  They shop at warehouse clubs.  Mom stays at home and tends to at least four kids.  Most of them are Protestant and look down on those of more Orthodox faiths. They're the ones in church with their pretentious hands raised high during hymns.  They also speak out against separation of church and state, abortion, same-sex marriage, and condemn those less fortunate as being at fault for their own troubles.
In God We Trust...it's on our money!  Thou shalt not kill!  The book of Leviticus says it's a sin to lay down with another of the same sex!  Sloth is one of the Seven Deadly Sins! 
What's wrong with that, you say?
According to Dr. Anthony Campolo, EVERYTHING.
I had the pleasure of meeting this man recently at a fundraising dinner for a charity that also happens to own a nursing home and several other retirement communities.
"Jesus is neither a Democrat nor a Republican," Dr. Campolo told me in an interview before the dinner. "You have created God in your own political image.  Is what I'm standing for politically in harmony with the Jesus I read about in the Scriptures?"
Creating God in your own political image.
I thought a lot about that.
And if you self-identify as a Christian, so should you.
Come to think of it, that would be idolatry, wouldn't it?
And we know the lessons that the Baal-worshippers learned the hard way.
Mary Magdalene was a prostitute.  Noah was a fall-down drunk.  There are others, I'm only recounting those at the top of my small brain at this moment.
The point is, God loves sinners.  Why?
Because they're proof that even with free will, anyone can be saved from their demons.  A broken person can be made whole.  It may take a miracle to happen, but it can be done.
America is a country that the world equates with freedom.  However, it's also equated with other things...greed.
Many conservatives, Bible in hand, always spew the state of Social Security and how much it costs our country.  Yet no mention is made of cutting defense spending or other pork-barrel projects that cost this country dearly.
My Jesus didn't vote.  Nor did He fight to cut social programs.  To the contrary, He fed 5,000 people with two fish and five loaves. 
My Jesus didn't cut Medicare.  He healed the blind and lame.  And He didn't ask who your insurance carrier was afterwards or ask for a deductible or co-pay.
He owned no sprawling suburban home, with summer residences elsewhere, personal luxury car, bulging bank accounts or assistants for his every need.  He owned nothing but the clothes on His back and the sandals on His feet.
He also said "Judge not, lest you be judged".



NEXT WEEK:  Mother's Day

Fridiculous

Imagine if you will, a new soap opera set in the modern day.
Then, as the storylines progress, it takes on a horror-themed flavor.
A vampire, an artificial man, a werewolf, a warlock, a witch, and zombies.
And another universe known as 'parallel time', accessed through a changing staircase.
Oh, I should also mention the 'modern day' as being 1966.
Sound impossible?  Ridiculous, maybe?
ABC was beginning to think so, when network executives allowed renegade producer Dan Curtis' gothic serial "Dark Shadows" a spot on its weekday afternoon programming schedule. 
Viewer reception initially was ho-hum, at best.  From its inception on June 26, 1966 to March 22, 1967, the show's plot contained mostly mysterious, but few horror elements until about six months into its run to try and boost its sagging ratings.
Then it happened.
Jonathan Frid was a classically-trained Canadian, and for the most part, was unknown outside of the stage and minor movie character roles, the majority of which were forgettable.  He entered the show as Barnabas Collins, a 175-year-old vampire unwittingly released from his coffin by a would-be grave robber, and unleash his bloodthirsty horror on the local townsfolk and even members within his own family.
The ratings results were phenominal.  The show took on a whole new identity, especially among young people who would rush home from school to their TV sets just to see what the villainous vampire would do next.  Board games, action figures, and other merchandising followed.
The production was most often a joke...with set walls wobbling, equipment making its way into the camera's range, black-clad stagehands ducking out of shots, and most cast members flubbing their lines while at the same time, swatting houseflies from their faces.
Nonetheless, the ratings remained high, with ABC taking enough interest in the show's success to invest in its future.
Vampire bat marionettes that 'bit' Barnabas and caused his vampirism, gave way to 'blue screen' images later, as Barnabas frequently vascillated between vampire and human.
Chroma-key technology, prohibitively expensive even for networks at that time, along with TelePrompTers, were used in the show's production.  ABC News didn't even have access to these niceties at that time.
Frid appeared on game show panels and national talk programs to demonstrate that talentwise, he was more than the character he would become most famous for.
The show's demise happened as national advertising dipped from the ban of cigarette ads in 1970, thereby constraining the show's budget, rather large when compared to its counterparts.  It was finally canceled in 1971.
But fans failed to forget Frid.
In later years, he became a spokesman for the publicly-supported NJN, the New Jersey television network, which aired Dark Shadows reruns.  He was often seen on camera displaying a choice of thank-you gifts for viewer pledges, including his own...a ceramic coffee mug with the NJN logo.
He would pick up the mug and give a tongue-in-cheek reminder to fans of why this was his choice:
"Because I drink coffee all the time," he would say into the camera with a slight grin as he took a sip from it.
"That's right...coffee."
Of course, implying that he was Jonathan Frid the coffee-drinking actor, and not Barnabas Collins, the blood-sucking vampire.
On Friday, April 13th (yes, Friday the 13th), we said goodbye to him, as John Herbert Frid left this world after 87 years and a very distinguished career both on and off the screen and stage, due to complications from injuries due to a fall he suffered in his Ontario home, while at the same time, battling cancer.  He had recovered from a near-fatal car crash just last year, and according to his former co-star and longtime friend, Lara Parker, he was likely in the early stages of Alzheimer's Disease.
Not a fan of his TV work at the time, Frid would come to embrace it beginning in the 1980s and lasting pretty much until the end of his life, traveling as often as his health would allow, and maintaining a personal website with frequent updates.
Frid also made a cameo appearance opposite his young successor, Johnny Depp, in the soon-to-be-released comedy film adaptation by Tim Burton.
Though Frid did not live to see the film's premiere, he was with us long enough to know what an impact he had on people, and on our culture.
Thanks for the memories, Mr. Frid.

NEXT WEEK:   Right is Wrong

House Calls

Time to call the doctor.
Yes, it's a house call.
But not what you're thinking.
Since moving into our house in May of 2009, and one child later, I've taken note of what all has migrated into our home since then.
It first became obvious when I recorded a home movie of our daughter on Easter of 2011, following her as she toddled her way over to her hidden Easter basket hidden behind the couch.
When I watched the movie a short time later, I wrinkled my nose at what I saw.
The stains on our dining room carpet.  Then as I walked into the family room, I saw the same thing.
While it's only natural to blame this on our two-and-a-half year-old, I'm smart enough to know better.
And sometimes I wonder if folks in Japan and Eastern Europe have the right idea with their shoes off at the door policy.  Lately, I'm seeing more and more Americans adopting this same policy, and wonder if I should assimilate as well.
I've tracked in salt and snow from the winter, and rotting black walnut residue during the fall.  Add Savannah's spills and other such messes, and it makes sweat break out on my brow when I run the mental adding machine for a professional carpet cleaner or worse, new carpeting.
But before I could suffer a panic attack, something caught my eye one morning before work, when I was at the local hardware store.
The Rug Doctor.
I had remembered this being advertised on game shows as a consolation prize, and was more surprised to see that it was still around.
The price was certainly right for a 24-hour rental.
Seems easy enough.  Unless I get a second opinion.
The problem is getting everyone out of the house long enough to get it done.

NEXT WEEK:  Fridicule

Primary Colors

Pennsylvania's primary is coming a little earlier than the usual this year.
Our primary usually falls the second full week in May.  This time it's the fourth full week in April.
It was a bit exciting locally, at least until very recently.
Now-former Republican Rick Santorum, also Pennsylvania's former U.S. Senator, announced the second week in April that he was quitting his bid for the Presidency.
At the radio station for which I work, we paid particular attention to the campaign, because Rick has a local tie to the area.
For about a decade, he grew up here.  Not born here, no family here, but as the son of medical professionals assigned to our local VA Medical Center, Rick attended our local schools, and still recalled fond memories when back in the area and talking to the local media.
When he gave us time, that is.  Rick earned a reputation over the years for being somewhat truculent with reporters, with some of those moments chronicled on the air and in print.
He's also earned a reputation for being one of the most conservative politicians in modern history.  His views on homosexuality, women working outside the home, pornography, Social Security, and gun control have been widely publicized and criticized. 
He ran an underfunded campaign but still managed to produce results that yielded in his winning 11 primaries and caucuses...amounting to more than three million votes.
And now, he's out.
It never ceases to amaze me how many candidates drop out of the presidential election.  Why?
Because nobody wants that job.
Not anymore.
It wasn't but half a century ago when every little boy's ambition at some point in his childhood was to be the President of the United States.
The real power lies in the hands of Congress.  Yet one man takes the bullets for everything that's wrong (and right) in this country.
That's a hard job.  And for what it pays, you make more money in the private sector.  Chief executive of the U.S., $250,000.  CEO of a Fortune 500 corporation, put another zero at the end. 
At least.
It's food for thought.
If we don't have a capable leader at the helm, we put ourselves in a very vulnerable position against the rest of the world.
We've already seen what happened when the self-styled 'working class' takes over a country.
Freedom reverts from reality to a dream.


NEXT WEEK:  Calling the Doctor

Doing Without...for One Day

Guys just don't understand women.  I'll be the first to admit it.
I don't think we're allowed to.
Especially when it comes to the 'shoe thing'. 
About 13 years ago, me, my younger brother, and his then-girlfriend all rented a two-bedroom duplex after they were done with school and I was saving up to buy my first house.
Jenny easily owned more than fifty pairs of shoes.  I don't remember an exact number, and chances are, neither does she. 
What I did remember is that with all of these shoes in her closet, she spent the majority of her time in the house padding around barefoot or in socks.
"You just don't understand," is what she said when I inquired about it one day.
Perhaps not.  But I do know I regularly wear every pair of shoes I own.  I have about twenty pairs, and I'm told that's a lot for a guy.  The oldest pair is my burgundy wingtips I bought at a Montgomery Ward going-out-of-business sale, and the newest pair is my Nike Cortez retros (same style that Tom Hanks wore in "Forrest Gump") that I got for Christmas in 2010.
And in a lot of countries, I have enough shoes to take care of a full classroom in a Third World country.
It's something to think about.
I became aware of TOMS Shoes annual "One Day Without Shoes" initiative about five years ago, when the local city clerk announced she was going to go barefoot for a day in the office, and encouraged her co-workers to do the same.  She's done it consistently since then, even with below-freezing temperatures last year in western Pennsylvania.
This is not a college kid either I'm talking about.  Without advertising her age, she has two grown children, one of whom babysits my daughter on a regular basis.
This year's is this Tuesday. 
For those of you who aren't familiar with TOMS, go to their website at http://www.toms.com/.  Better yet, go to the website http://www.onedaywithoutshoes.com/.
Both sites explain the story behind TOMS and the 'barefoot challenge'.
Are you up for the challenge?
Today, take a moment if you will, and remember how often you've said to yourself about a particular article of clothing "I wouldn't be caught dead in that!"
And think of someone else half a world away saying "you should be so lucky".
Be a better person tomorrow than you are today.  Start by taking nothing, and I mean nothing, for granted.  Including the clothes on your back and the shoes on your feet.
Oh, and how much did you pay for those Uggs again?

NEXT WEEK:  Primary Colors

Winers Are Winners Here

"I love wining with you!" (in a 'whined' voice)
"And I love wining with YOU! (likewise)
These are frequent exchanges between my wife Margie and me.  Usually it's when wine is consumed.
Most of you who know us also know that we're wine aficionados.  We love wine.  And now for the third year, we've looked forward to our annual spring trek to Erie, Pennsylvania.
It's called "Wine on the Lake". 
With more than 40 exhibitors (not counting the wineries themselves), this sell-out event is one where you make sure you get your tickets early.
This year, Margie and I decided to spring for VIP tickets, which are $15 higher than the general admission tickets.  It allows you access to two private tasting rooms with tapas, plus you get access to purchasing and tasting on the main show floor before the lines start building from the general admission crowd.
My wife asked me why I had this permanent grin affixed to my face at the event.  She was probably convinced that I love wine more than I love her.
And nothing could be further from the truth.
Since becoming parents, our freedom to take off and go where we wanted whenever we wanted has now become restricted.  As some couples become disconnected from each other after children, we've managed to stay connected. 
We can still take our bike rides on the trails when the weather permits, thanks to the child carrier I tow behind my bike; we can also take road trips provided we pack toys for our daughter, extra pull-ups, and snacks. 
But Wine on the Lake harkens back to the days when we were a carefree power couple that could get away with being somewhat irresponsible, if only for a moment.
And some of those moments make the pocketbook a little lighter than it was.
A good example was the end of the day yesterday, when we bought dinner at a Mexican eatery, after Wine on the Lake and before we got home and realized how much wine we had bought.
Seventeen bottles.
Though we have a 24-bottle wine rack, we still had bottles in it before we left.  After we filled the rack with our new purchases, we had some to put aside until there was room.
And we made room last night.
Perhaps tonight too.


NEXT WEEK:  One Day Without Shoes