More geezer gripes

Being old sucks. I hate the pain and sometimes confused mind. But what I rally despise is being out of touch with many things that have apparently passed me by. So I once again take to keyboard to share some of the things I believe.

The Statue of Liberty has a poem that begins “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses wearing to breathe free.”

My Irish grandmother came to these shores, arriving in Philadelphia, and wound up marrying a man who was one of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders. After the Spanish-American war, the couple produced three kids. One was my mother, another my Aunt and a third who passed away at the age of 12 or so after the First World War when there was a world-wide pandemic. My Grandfather never made it back from that war, dying in the French combat trenches, about a month before the war would end. Left to make some sort of living, she cooked for Orthodox Jews on Saturdays, and cleaned houses and took in laundry. My aunt, the oldest, dressed up like a woman (she was 13) and became a telephone operator. My six year old mother began working Vaudeville as “Baby Peggy,” who sung and danced and mostly tried to look cute. She then learned typing and shorthand spending her career as a legal secretary. 

I don’t know too much about my father’s side other than I’m a fifth-generation American. They were all working class people, landing in New York and doing blue collar work delivering beer to bars, and getting into the building trades. They came from a German background. 

In other words, I am a product of American Labor. 

So I believe that all immigrants should be given a chance to make something of themselves and help their families. But there is a huge difference between my ancestors and today’s immigrants. The culture at their time demanded that they learn to speak, read and write English. I don’t like having to put bi-lingual language on products. The print is too small and my old eyes frequently can’t read the packing. 

I also think that people speaking in another language in public is impolite, and it is often in places where I’m the customer and being ignored. 

• * *

I’m peeved that I can’t send certain things to school for lunch with my kids. I am especially angry about peanut butter. I, and most of my friends grew up on PB&J. As lunch, it is cheap, filling and tastes great. Combine it with a carton of milk and it’s great.

But a very few children have allergies to peanuts. So what many want is being denied for the sake of a few. It’s political correctness taken to an extreme. 

• * *

Speaking of political correctness, I’m an American. I might be German-Irish, but I have no need to identify like that. Native Americans were called Indians. I don’t know how this came about.

Speaking of that, I grew up describing African Americans as either Negros or Colored People. After a decade of these people identifying themselves as “Black,” they are now insisting on being called African Americans. Over a lifetime it’s confusing. Though I was raised to never use the “N” word. And I watched “Amos and Andy” on TV every afternoon until my father sat me down and explained stereotypes to me. 

Anyhow, I think that while people try to do what’s right, when they are met with anger for using a term that people object to, a discussion about what was said can do more than anger and screaming. 

I recently got into an argument with a childhood friend who is African American. He continued to attack me for my opinion about history. I have repeatedly told him I will never understand his experience. I stated what I saw as factual history and his view was the opposite. We went from a discussion of what we believed into constant bickering and it got so ugly, I had to unfriend him – something I deeply regret but can’t figure out how to remove the unfriend command on Facebook.

But the intolerance to viewpoints that don’t match your own is causing great harm to us as a people. 

For the record, I spent many years living at a farm for boys that was about 40 percent black. I never heard one racist remark. I attended a high school that was about 80 percent white and our senior year class officers. When a reporter once asked me why, I told her that the white officers we had for three years did virtually nothing and it was time for a change. I thought my best friend in high school was a black man who was a co-manager for the track team. The next year I learned he was married and had a pregnant teen wife after he killed himself driving a Corvette when working at a hotel. Obviously I didn’t know very much about what I thought was our relationship. 

• * *

I can’t stand helicopter parents. I came home from school, changed into my play clothes and went out with everyone else in the neighborhood to play, usually baseball without any supervision. We settled our own disagreements. We didn’t have portable phones. We knew when it was time to come home when it got dark. We walked or rode our bikes to school or took a school bus. After the first day of school, when our parents took us to the bus stop, we were on our own. We went to the stop as a group. We also took public transportation unescorted. I sometimes went into New York with a friend. Sometimes my mom didn’t even know. Yet I was safe. 

But if we got into some real trouble, the whole neighborhood would be calling home. When I was in second grade, we lived at a lake. My buddy Bruce and I decided to walk home on the thin ice. The thunder of ice cracking was heard all over the lake and mothers started calling my mother and kept their eyes on us as we walked home. There was hell to pay for both of us when we finally reached the dock at my house. 

A call from the teacher had better be about schoolwork. And a call from the principal equalled “Wait till your father gets home!” Which was a month’s grounding and/or a very red butt. 

• * *

When Personal Computers came out, I was scared of them. I didn’t know how to operate one. I bought a Mac when I was interested in getting a computer simply because it worked. Working with DOS and Windows was nearly impossible. I had no clue what the Internet was but eventually I learned. In college, I got a Mac with some great software that would permit tons of apps like PhotoShop, Illustrator, Quark and Avid. Since then, all of them have become obsolete. It is incompatible with my present Mac because of a different type of chip. 

Why the hell can’t you use software once worth thousands of dollars today? Because the computer industry wants you to replace software. 

The advent of smart phones is also a problem. I can send pix, text and actually make calls with my old flip phone. But I found myself staying for a couple of months in a campground without internet. Now, I have hundreds of books, shopping with Amazon for anything but fresh and frozen food. I am able to listen to songs dating back to the depression, I have television and movies, news sites, the ability to take notes, have a compass, do banking, get a taxi, get a date, text with friends and more. I used to wear a watch. But it’s built into the phone and almost all of these apps can now be put on a watch.

Guess what? I haven’t seen most of my friends in years, and at night, the girlfriend and I sit next to each other not talking while on our phones and Kindles.

I yearn for the days when there was a phone mounted to the wall and am becoming convinced that I could live without cell phones. But I’m just too addicted.

• * *

As I get older, I don’t drive anymore and my phone is my lifeline to the world. Though I must admit that Uber and mass transit is far cheaper than car payments, insurance, fuel and maintenance. 

• * *

Once upon a time, I wore a tee shirt bragging “Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil, ‘cause I’m the meanest S.O.B. in the valley.”

These days the tees I wear say ‘I’ve been through hell, but I’m still standing.’

But now I’m thinking of buying a shirt that says ‘life sucks and then you die.’ 

Or perhaps, “If I knew what was going to happen, I never would have come out of the womb.”

So anyhow, dear reader, “live long and prosper.”

Send in the clowns.

I am writing this as I am trying to comprehend all that has come about in the impeachment actions to date. Even though the Democrats contend the phone call is a clear path to impeachment, the devil is in the details and there are many, many details.  

I have opposed Donald Trump since the day he came down the escalator at Trump Tower announcing his candidacy to the cheers of hundreds. On that day, he ranted about Mexican immigrants being criminals and rapists, beginning his ongoing ego-driven, obsessive actions in an attempt to build a wall. 

But his irrational behavior wasn’t the cause for my opposition to him. It was the fact that he hired out-of-work Broadway actors to cheer for him that day. He was a fraud. 

But his irrational behavior wasn’t the cause for my opposition to him. It was the fact that he hired out-of-work Broadway actors to cheer for him that day. He was a fraud.

Over the time of the campaign, the many things he did as a businessman, especially stiffing tradespeople such as carpenters and electricians, offended me. The fact that he hired illegal immigrants at his resorts, made me think of him as a Hypocrite. 

Yet there were enough people who supported him to elect him. I am sure that many of those votes were anti-Hillary compared to pro-Donald. But the emergence of so many Trump supporters, mostly angry white men, has created a climate of artificial division that has led to mob mentality and school shootings. 

But I don’t understand the blind support of everything Trump. I think the words of one of my Facebook friends is probably the key to all this. He said he is disgusted with  Trump’s personal faults. But he supports the executive actions he has taken. 

I am sure that many of those votes were anti-Hillary compared to pro-Donald. But the emergence of so many Trump supporters, mostly angry white men, has created a climate of artificial division that has led to mob mentality and school shootings. 

It is my belief that the real reason Trump decided to run was because of the way he was treated as the butt of jokes from President Obama and others as he had to quietly sit and take it at the White House Correspondents Dinner. He was humiliated, and I think the reason he has revoked so many Obama programs is because of this. And, of course, his “fake news” attacks on the press. 

A major issue to me is Trump’s mental health. He is indeed right when he states he is under constant attack by the media and Democrats. But most of the attacks are the result of Trump’s own words and actions. He has always been a magnet for controversy decades before his presidency.

But what concerns me most is that Trump is especially sensitive to criticism. If people like you or I were subjected to these constant acts, we would become very defensive. But it could also lead to an incredible breakdown – and I believe that Trump’s recent actions and words have left us to inquire if he is a danger to himself or others? He has an ongoing history of diverting an existing problem by creating newer problems. In this case, it’s getting involved with the problems in Saudi Arabia. And that, clearly, makes him a danger to others. 

There are many other issues I have with the president, but they are too many to list here and not really related to the issues of impeachment. But this is what I think, subject to change:

I have to consider if what the Democrats are doing is because of what is right, or a partisan power play. It is no doubt something of both.

1. Many of Trump’s actions, especially using his properties for uses being paid for by the people of this country through their tax dollars, has created an ongoing series of constitutional issues. But the focus on the conversation with a foreign leader and the issues discussed are certainly cause for possible impeachment. But compared to his other actions, this is comparatively weak. But it is still a strong case which is more easy to follow. 
2. The Republican side is partisan almost in its entirity. It would take 20 GOP senators to change their minds for a removal from office to be possible. But it hasn’t ever happened. The Senate acquitted Andrew Johnson by a single, courageous vote and Bill Clinton was acquitted in a Republican-controlled Senate because there was no supermajority. Nixon, facing certain impeachment by the House, and conviction by the Senate, chose to resign. There is even a question about if McConnell would permit it to go to trial. 
3. I have to consider if what the Democrats are doing is because of what is right, or a partisan power play. It is no doubt something of both.
4. There is a matter of timing. It would be the center of the Presidential election. And the people would become the real jury at the ballot box. If this were to happen, the political divisiveness would probably continue for another four years. This must be resolved before the Republican national convention. And that convention will be chaotic, especially since so many states have called off GOP primary elections.

So how could Trump resolve this? 

Trump could choose to not stand for re-election “for the good of the country” much as Lyndon Johnson did. It would keep him in office until his term expires. 

He could resign from office and have Pence pardon him for all crimes, as what happened with Ford and Nixon. The biggest problem with this is a number of state investigations could get him indicted for state crimes. He can be held for account by several crimes relating to his businesses and the women he bedded and bribed. If nothing else it would make his tax returns public. 

He could instruct his cabinet to remove him from office as being mentally unfit. This could result in Trump being unable to assist in his own defense at state trials. 

He could also resign and “retire” to one of his resorts in a nation that does not have an extradition treaty with the United States. 

Another issue is how much influence his family has on him. It is pretty certain that his wife does not want to be first lady. And there is the legal liability his daughter and son-in-law have. 

The bottom line is still up to Trump and McConnell, and there is no way of knowing how they plan to deal with this mess of their own making. 

As I said on a recent Facebook Post:

Hopefully, the impeachment process will not become a political circus.

Who am I kidding?

🤡 Way too many clowns!  🤡

Ancient Hippie Fest

You don’t need to get stoned to be mellow.

A bunch of very aging hippies gathered last night at the community theater in Morristown, NJ. I worked there as an usher more than 50 years ago, but 20 or so years ago, it became a center for performing arts. 

About once or twice a year, we go there to see a show. We went to a traveling performance of “Momma Mia” and a lecture by Dr. Oz. But last night was something special: a return to the early 1960s when folk music was at its peak. The Kingston Trio, The Limelighters and The Brothers Four all were sharing a concert. 

Now for those of you who are not experiencing your 70s or 80s in birthdays, you have to understand that folk music was unlike the hard rock that is mostly associated during that decade. The music was completely acoustic. Guitars, banjos, acoustic bass and even ukes and bongos were a part of the scene. Some of the songs were legendary from the depression. But many more were commentary from the era. 

At one point, the Kingston Trio were the Number One act in the world. And the Limelighters and Brothers Four could easily fill an arena. There were others like Bob Dylan, Peter Paul and Mary, and the Chad Mitchell Trio. All except Dylan were known for magnificent harmony. And the songs were all easy to remember.

Almost immediately, we were in a geezer sing-a-long. Nearly all the songs were old friends. One song, which started a medley was “Yellow Bird.” It was a minor song then but the words immediately came to mind and they were so sweet. In high school, on my first day in choir, I had never had any musical training where I had to sing. The teacher tested me and put me in the first bass section. She kept me after class and asked if I had any music training at all. I told her no. She said men were bass, baritone and tenor. But I was a monotone. But she knew I did have a talent. I could mimic and she put me next to the best bass when we gave a concert and I was passable. 

Suddenly, after more than 50 years, I was once again able to mimic and my oft horribly awesome voice blended in just fine. 

After nearly three hours, I was way, way more relaxed and mellow. I honestly couldn’t remember how long it was that I felt this good. It was ‘groovy.”

For that night, the pains of age left me,. The worries of being broke disappeared and the anxiety of relationships took the night off. Faaaaar out!

My Nuclear Weapons Position

Nuke ‘em

Today, as part of my campaign for president, I would like to explain my policy about using nuclear weapons.

Use ‘em. Nuke the bastards. 

At the moment, we have problems with North Korea, Afghanistan, and Syria. I might want to include some other trouble spots. But the nukes will never fall on any of the cities. We don’t need fallout. Instead, let’s detonate some small nukes in space above them. This will create EMPs. The result—anything plugged in or having computer chips will fry. 

The expression “nuke them back to the stone age” might be considered. But it’s more likely their technology will go back to the 1800s. Afganistan is the possible exception since much of their society is still in the 18th century. 

So what would be the result? Russia won’t attack because we’ll have a BIG nuke over Moscow. The moment they attempt to launch, we’ll fry their electronics making attack impossible. We owe China so damn much money, their economy would collapse. 

But the main thing is that after this, nobody will fuck with us. 

President Merkin Muffley: General Turgidson. it is the avowed policy of our nation never to strike first with nuclear weapons!

Gen. Buck Turgidson: Well sir, I would say that General Ripper has already invalidated THAT policy!

— Dr. Strangelove

Peanut Butter Now. Peanut Butter Tomorrow. Peanut Butter forever!

The so-called administration of the 45th president is clearly a disaster. Even if you support his policies, you cannot help it that he is such a pig. He does not belong in the White House, but rather the outhouse because he’s so full of shit. 

He does not belong in the White House, but rather the outhouse 

And, in viewing the current crop of Democratic candidates, I see no one is clearly capable of beating Trump. So something must be done. 

So, unless the Democrats want to nominate Oprah Winfry, I must do something about it myself. I’m far more obnoxious than the incumbent, and I can’t possibly waste time on the golf course since I don’t play golf. Though I certainly could get used to spending time in Hawaii. 

So, unless the Democrats want to nominate Oprah Winfry, I must do something about it myself.

So I offer myself as a candidate for the presidency. Think of the possibilities. I’m a fat person in my early 70s. While not a genius, I’m pretty much above the chart and I’m willing to release my report cards. I barely made it through high school and it took more than a quarter century to get a college degree. And I’m certainly not “stable.” 

So my qualifications as an asshole are will above those of the incumbent. 

I’m very much in favor of immigrants, especially Mexicans, since I want my fruit to be cheaper. I say “let the MFers in” I’m fed up with mowing my lawn and the house needs to be painted for cheap. But more than that later.

I’m very much in favor of immigrants, especially Mexicans, since I want my fruit to be cheaper. I say “let the MFers in” I’m fed up with mowing my lawn and the house needs to be painted for cheap.

For now, I want to address my main point: those who suffer peanut allergies. They are clearly defective and potentially violent though I’m sure some of them are nice people. And how do we contain them? It’s simple. Serve PB&J sandwiches in schools. 

To begin with, I understand that prior to the banning of peanuts, lunchtime in our schools, in fact at work and at home as well, was a far more enjoyable experience. So why should the happiness of so many be attacked by these less-than-normal people. There is no good reason for it. If those who can’t be taught to avoid peanuts, what is the point of them even attending school? If they can’t learn that peanuts will kill them, they probably would be better off suffering the consequences. If pussy parents don’t want their children to be exposed to peanuts, let them home school or institutionalize them. 

Think of the money we will save by not educating these defective spawn. These pathetic excuses for human beings should be returned to the shithole countries they came from. People, this is a national crisis. If they continue to be such a burden on our society, let’s give them a chance to experience how the realities of life are all about. Empty the camps of Mexicans and send them there. In my first week in office, I will promote legislation that every person in the United States be tested for peanut allergies. And if immigrants want to be here, give every one of them a PB&J before they are permitted to enter.Can you think of a better way to welcome them?

When was the last time YOU had a PB&J? I know you feel happier especially after having one with a glass of milk. So let’s make America ate again. 

Over the coming year, I will address many issues. So look for them. My next topic will be nuclear war. I’m for it. 

Make America Ate Again!

Amazon and getting older

Today, The mailman came up to my doorstep in the rain carrying a 22-pound package from amazon. On the kitchen table are two smaller packages. 

In the big package were cnoainers of laundry detergent and fabric softener. Suddenly I realized we buy more things from Amazon than in stores. While yesterday, I went to Costco and purchased a month’s worth of fresh meat, generally, I’ve been shipping through the Internet. Some of the things I have recently purchased have been 30 pounds of dog food, a rear basket set for my bicycle, a baseball hat saying “make America sane again” and other items that I simply can’t track down in a trip to the mall. The other day I even ordered a replacement c-pap mask for half the price I’ve been paying and some dentures-like mouth guards for an obscenely low price. And with today’s delivery, I realized that the heavy liquids don’t need to be shopped for in a retail store. So I just ordered four 8-packs of Poweraid. I’ve also ordered classic Converse high top canvas sneakers—nearly impossible to find at any stores. Last time I went to Kohls and while they had them, they didn’t have them in my size.

Refunds are easy. I purchased a refurbished computer recently. It was built in 2012 when it was listed for sale as 2017. They e-mailed me a return UPS shipping label (no charge to me) and my account was credited the day after I returned it. 

My companion has been doing the same. She just ordered new bed linens with matching curtains and virtually all her gifts are sent directly to the house.

Both of us have Kindles and we get daily offers for cheap books. Check out bookbub.com. I order about 4 books per week through this service for free or 99 cents. I can even have up to ten books for free from their library. When I want to order one of these books, I return another title.

Why do I do this? 

First of all, the retail landscape has continued to change ov eh yeas. Sears is practically out of business and its sister company, K-Mart is gone. Macys is closing stores and I dare you to find a five and dime store. All replace by mail order. Wall-Mart and Costco’s business in trending †owards internet sales too. 

But the main reason is I’m growing older. In the past year or so, I’ve become much weaker. My eyes are not good and I don’t want to drive until I get surgery.  I have diabetic feet and it’s tough to walk the two miles into town. It’s also tough on my heart as I often find myself gasping for air. Amazon can be a blessing. And I suspect I will increase my orders. There are some people who are telling me that Amazon doesn’t treat it’s workers right. I have to disagree. In 2013, I headed to Campbellsville Kentucky to work at their warehouse during the holiday season.. They paid for my campground, including utilities and Internet. I was paid $12.50 an hour but had a 50 hour workweek so ten of those hours were at time-and-a-half, and got a discount on everything they sold. zIt was hard work and they had an on-duty medical staff to handle any injuries or sore muscles. The supervisors would give us coins for the vending machines and $20 gift cards from the local groceries. I walked away with more than $4,000 for about 5 weeks of work. If there was a problem, that in winter I had to leave in the dark and come home in the dark, where I was greeted by a very anxious Pup, who tore into the local woods to take care of business, So I’m not going to knock Amazon about that.

Amazpn’s prices are usually lower than retail. Although sometimes they are outrageous when you use their third-party vendors. 

But the pain of getting old is relieved by Amazon and other Internet vendors. As I think about it, companies such as Sears that grew from a mail-order catalog business. It’s pretty much the same, except the catalog is electronic. So while our retail space is shrinking, in a way, we’ve gone back to the 1800s. To quote Solomon, “there is nothing new under the sun.”

“Is this heaven?”

I’ve managed to come across on cable, the ending of the movie: “Field of Dreams” quite often, and frequently twice in the same day. I must have seen it at least 50 times, perhaps more than a hundred, and I’ve cried at the ending every time as I watch Ray say to his ghost father if he wants to have a catch. It’s a moment that drags me – usually willingly – into a crying jag often lasting for hours.

It’s as if the movie was made for me as much as the field was made for Ray. Perhaps when I go to heaven, I will find my father to have a game of catch once again and make amends and hope for restoration.

When I was very young, New York had three teams. My mother would live and die by Jackie Robertson and the boys of summer. Ebbets Field was just a subway ride away and we would get grandstand seats and watch the Dodgers play. I have no memory of it but I was told that I shook Robinson’s hand. He started his major league career the same year I was born and I suspect I was a year or two old when that happened. In those days, players would sign autographs and talk to you if you waited at the players’ entrance.

Dad was a Giant’s fan and if you remember the song “Talking Baseball,” I kind of drifted into the discussion of who was the best: Willie, Mickey or the Duke by the time I started school. Around the time I was five I declared myself to be a Yankees fan and I was taken to the stadium and watched Joe D in his last year and Mick as a rookie on the same field.

By the time I was in second grade, my life was turned upside down when my parents separated. I remember my mother taking me to see a double header in 1957 against the Kansas City (now Oakland) A’s. I know the Yankees won both games and some guy named Whitey Ford won one of them. But the highlight for me was when one batter hit a foul grounder along the first base line and the coach turned around, stuck his butt out and let the ball bounce off him. We were in the front row of the second deck and a ball was hit directly at me. I tried to grab it but it bounced off the fence with a clang that shook the seats we were in. I’ve gone to bed many nights thanking God that I didn’t catch the ball and break my hands.

After the game, we walked on the field and I went to the flagpole with the three monuments of Ruth, Gehrig, and Huggins.

Many years later, we went to opening day weekend when the Yankees opened their refurbished stadium. The year before, I took the ex to Shea Stadium where the Yankees played for a year. She hated it. “I hate to play games,” was her reason.

Dad would visit me every other weekend and we would frequently play a game of catch. I didn’t think much about it then, but I came to realize that dad was playing with only one functional arm. He wrecked his left arm while driving a taxi during the Depression. It was locked into place in front of his chest by doctors who had little choice if they wanted to save the arm. He had the guts to stand in there as I threw every ball as hard as I could. He frequently stopped the ball with his chest and I ragged him about not being able to handle my fastball.

In the movie, Ray sees his father as a strong young man rather than his memories of an older man who life had drained him of his strength. I too had never seen Dad like that and the tears start to shed about that time in the movie.

Earlier in the movie, Ray talks about how he and his father separated for a while and his dad had died before he was able to renew a relationship. It was the same way with me as I was in the Army and found out he was dying. I went home on a couple of weekends and met a man who was unable to recognize me. He was just too senile. I took a 30-day leave and he died during that time. I knew enough about his life that I asked the pastor of the local Unitarian church where he attended to conduct a graveside service.

I never got to tell him the things I needed to. I was more fortunate to have done so with my mother and got something of a healing about our relationship.

Baseball has always remained a part of my life in one way or another. I took my oldest son, John, to a couple of Mets games at Shea as part of a Royal Rangers Trip. And we visited the Baseball Hall of Fame together. We even had a few games of catch. But John just wasn’t interested in playing the game. And the other son, Matt, professed a hatred for the game.

 Once, I managed to get some tickets from my company to their corporate box seat. I took my friend, Bill, and his girlfriend to the game and by coincidence, it was Mantle's last game as he announced his retirement the day before.

But even after the boys grew up, I continued to go to Yankee Stadium a few times until Yogi was fired by Steinbrenner early into the season. While I rooted for them via Television and radio, I refused to go back to the Stadium until Yogi did.

I didn’t see another game until the year the ex and I separated. I had headed to Florida in an effort to figure out what the hell went wrong in my life. By the time I got there, she had already filed for a divorce. But I went to Legends Field (now Steinbrenner Field) and watched some spring training games. At one game, I received a replica ring of the World Series between the Yankees and the Mets.

I also got to go to a ticker tape parade the last time the Yankees won the Series. Though I barely saw the players, it was a very exciting day for me. I had always wanted to go to this unique piece of New York City culture. I thought of how much my father spoke of the parade they had for Charles Lindbergh, the massive parade at the end of the Second World War and when the early astronauts were honored.

My father has almost always been on my mind. At he end of the 2016 season, The Yankees had a bobblehead night for Roger Maris, my boyhood idol. I had to get one so I went to the new Yankee Stadium. There were only four games left in the season and the team was playing its rookies. I sat in the right field bleachers where I always watched Maris in that magical 1961 season. I saw a kid named Gary Sanchez hit one to the back of the second deck. My dad couldn’t figure out why I wanted to be in the 75¢ bleachers when we could have been sitting in the $4 grandstand seats. But I wanted to be near Roger. One day, he hit two home runs into the area near me, but it was too far away for me to try and catch the ball. But this time, I was prepared and brought a new catchers mitt that my aunt bought for me the previous day. Then Mantle hit a monster home run into right field. It was still climbing when it bounced off the wall behind the top deck in right field. If it had gone about 20 feet to the left, it would have been the only ball ever hit out of Yankee Stadium.

My companion, Emily, who was my senior prom date back in 1966, had never been to a major league game despite living in the shadows of the Polo Grounds, Ebbets Field, Yankee Stadium, Shea and City Field. So we went to a game last August. I watched this senior woman responded like a kid as I did way back then. Suddenly, she was watching every game on television, abandoning Judge Judy, Dr. Oz and similar programs until after the season ended. With pitchers and catchers reporting next week, I’m sure she’s going to plan a few visits with her grandchildren at the ballpark.

But going back to the reason I sob every time I see the movie, I have to ask myself if God is so infinite, he would design an afterlife for me that included my young, sober and youthful parents and my ex where I could play catch with my dad and somehow say the things I need to say to them.

Even if it’s in Iowa instead of Heaven.

Survival? Slim and none

Recently, I made a joke on Facebook about an unfunny subject. Trump has cancelled a nuclear weapons control treaty with Russia dating back to the Reagan era. I said I was seriously thinking about becoming a survivalist. A friend said I was one of the few who had survival skills. I replied that if she was referring to my life on the road living in a travel trailer and driving all over the country, I had constant supplies of fuel and food. I didn’t mention that virtually all of my money was in my bank and I could get it at any ATM. I also had nearly $20,000 in credit at that time.

But while I could survive an ecological disaster, such as a hurricane, I doubt that I could survive an EMP.

We don’t have to worry about a nuclear exchange. We don’t even have to worry about ICBM (intercontential) missiles. If you want to destroy America or any other nation, all you would need is about one-to-three IRBM (intermediate range) missiles. Fire them into space and explode the nukes over the east and west coasts and the Midwest and we’re dead without one person dying from atomic radiation and fallout is non-existent since fallout comes from the ground when a nuke explodes. It’s what creates all the smoke in a blast.

The result would be an EMP (electromagnetic pulse) that would destroy anything with a electronic chip or something that is plugged in.

Let’s look at what would happen.

Within one second of the blast, power would be gone everywhere. Your car would not work unless it was built in the 1980s. Because all those fancy things you have won’t work due to the dozens of chips that most cars have. The best time to blow up the nukes would be around noon…lunchtime. Imagine if you will that you work in New York City and lived in New Jersey or on Long Island. How would you get home? The trains and buses won’t work. The trains are electrified and even if you have a diesel engine, they use chips. Buses won’t work either. You will have to walk. You can’t even get cash because the ATMs won’t work. So unless you are in REALLY good shape, you won’t get home because very few of us can do even ten miles a day. If you see a bicycle, you will steal it, and chances are someone will try to steal it from you. Food supplies will dry up within a couple of days because stores and restaurants won’t get their deliveries. By the third day there will be food riots.

Are you a diabetic? You die when you run out of meds. If you use insulin, it needs refrigeration. About ten days is all you will last even if you have a year’s supply. Same thing for people with heart problems. If you have a pacemaker or other electronic implant, you would die within seconds of the blast as it shorts out. 

If you are subject to stress, chances are that would kill you.

Suppose you are in a hospital or nursing home? Without power, the environment would soon be fatal. There’s sealed windows but no climate control and germs would spread from the sickest patients sooner rather than later. How many health care workers would abandon their duties to care for their own? Bedridden people will foul the environment with waste and even other patients would probably not have enough water pressure to flush. Forget about babies and children.

Within a couple of weeks, we would have a very healthy population. But not for long. Flu would be pandemic and there would be no more flu shots, not to mention other vaccines. Adults who were vaccinated would be OK for a while, but those born after the blasts would have no immunity at all. If you say, cut your finger. You could die from infection. Eventually you would even run out of aspirin.

Mental hospitals and prisons would shut down and the most violent members of out society would be turned loose to loot, murder and otherwise rampage. Let’s say you are a perfectly respectable person. There is little, if any, food and your children are starving. Would you go searching in someone’s home? There will be people so desperate that they would kill you to get your food.

If you live in a climate that has winters, you could freeze to death. If you live in Florida, or other places where there is swampland, you’ll die from all the disease coming from mosquitoes – there will be nothing left within a week or so to treat it. Chances are even if you had a well-stocked pharmacy, junkies will rob it to feed their addiction before they die from withdrawal.

Same with the southwest as it reverts to desert, as the irrigation pumps won’t work.

Obviously, people will head for rural areas, seeking out farms for food. Good luck with that. Farmers use tractors and other machines that no longer work. Hungry raiders will kill all the livestock for food. And since there is no longer refrigeration, the animals’ rotting carcass will lie in the fields being fed on by flies. Care to share? The meat is diseased and you will die of food poisoning within a few days.

And there will be power struggles among the few survivors. There will be cults and other groups that we would consider nut jobs that will take over.

What is the government doing? Very little. Without communications, you won’t know. It’s entirely possible that the President and key people will be on Air Force One within minutes after those missiles are launched as AF-1 and every other plane in the air will crash. The only government you will deal with is a local one. Police, fire and rescue personnel will be your main government employees. But since currency is worthless, they will become volunteers.

So how will you survive? Become a “prepper.” Here’s what is required:

First, have enough food stored to last a year, in two places. You should have medicine and medical equipment to last a couple of years. If you can’t get enough prescription drugs from your doctor, don’t overlook your vet. Many animal and human medications are the same.  

In addition to your hoarding at home, You will need a place to “Bug out.” It will have to be rural where few know of its existence. And it will have to be well guarded and camouflaged. It will have to have a clean water source in addition to the thousands of bottles of water you will store there. You need to clear land for crops, and at least a two-year supply of seeds. Don’t overlook everyday essentials such as female sanitary needs, tissue and toilet paper. Laundry detergents for cleaning clothing and dishes are also necessary. Pack all the clothes you can and have clothes in all sizes if you have children. Have them anyway. You may need them.  Your “bug out” site shouldn’t be more than 90 miles from your home location, so you can reach it safely.

If at all possible, have it equipped with solar panels. DO NOT use wind turbines, as they will reveal you location.

And Bug out as soon as you can. The longer you wait, the more treacherous the roads become. Be prepared to kill people.

Be armed. You will eventually have to defend yourself. Have a pistol, rifle and shotgun with thousands of rounds for each weapon and every person. And train at local rages, even the kids.

You will need at least one vehicle – pre 1980s without any chips. You should have it constantly filled with gas and it has to be in top shape. Have new tires on each wheel and a new spare for each wheel as well. Have a new battery and a new back-up. Try to have a vehicle for everyone – licensed or unlicensed – who is capable of driving.

Equip all everyday vehicles you have with a “bug out bag”. That’s a bag or backpack that will include water, food and clothes to last long enough to walk home if your everyday vehicle dies from the EMP. Be sure to include shoes you can walk in. A woman in heels won’t be able to walk more than a few miles.

There are electronics you can save by placing them in metal containers such as ammo boxes that could insulate them from the EMP. Wrap them in towels to prevent short circuiting. Try to have at least 4 walkie-talkies that operate on the same frequency. E-Readers are essential. Pack them with lots of books – especially about pioneer skills. But also pack them with fiction and non-fiction books, music plus games. They can bring comfort and entertainment. Be sure to add chargers designed for cars. They can be modified to charge the readers. I said readers – at least three or more -- and the contents should be identical in regard to reference materials. Why? They might break or more likely need to be recharged while you are in the middle of reading something important. Take an old cell phone just in case service is restored. You may want to download some games for entertainment.  If you are able to get solar power, bring a laptop or two and lots of DVDs. But don't run the lights at night. It makes you much too visible.

OK, you get a general idea about what “prepping” is. But the most important thing is people. We live in an age where work skills revolve around the computer. People without other other skills could be useless. Yet the larger your group is, the easier it is to defend your bug out locale from marauders. First and foremost, be very careful whom you ask to join you. People who learn about your prepping but don’t want to join you will suddenly want to be a part of your plans when the shit hits the fan, but they haven’t done any prepping. You can’t afford to feed them. Keep your bug out local secret. If they insist on knowing, give them a false one in the opposite direction. Skills such as farming, carpentry, electricians, mechanics, plumbing and other skills are necessary. And having a nurse and/or EMT is a blessing. Military people will not only guard against outsiders but are usually disciplined enough to do other tasks. Most soldiers have a combat skill and another skill.

OK, I’ve just spent about 1700 words trying to give you an idea on how to survive an EMP attack. If this happens, perhaps 10 percent of the population will survive. I’ve deliberately created a horrible scenario because only the strong, smart and skilled will survive. And they will need to be all three. Two out of three ain't bad but won't survive, nor will our way of life.

As for me, l plan to go to the cellar with whatever I have stockpiled and wait to die. I’m too fucking old and too fucking sick to survive.

JUST AN AFTERTHOUGHT:
If this happened, it would end the threat of global warming for some time to come. Perhaps saving the human race would be something better than destroying the United States?