tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84113545903408305052024-03-13T13:00:00.876-07:00Welcome!.Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.comBlogger154125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-35118801555439248492024-03-13T12:59:00.000-07:002024-03-13T12:59:13.812-07:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My Show Biz History<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> By Gil Tisnado</o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was a constant
embarrassment to my older sisters, Marie and Ginger. From the time I could walk
and talk, I was always singing and dancing. It didn’t matter the location. I
would perform at restaurants in front of jukeboxes, standing on a chair at our
converted gas station Baptist church, or simply on the sidewalks of our San
Diego suburban neighborhood. After much urging on my part, my mother decided
that I could audition for a weekly local children’s television show on Channel
8 called “Tiny Town Ranch.” I was seven years old.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Mom called the television
host, Monte Hall, to inquire about an audition. Monte Hall is not to be
confused with Monty Hall of “Let’s Make a Deal.” The Monte Hall of San Diego
was noted for his children’s variety show and children’s amusement park called
“Monte Hall’s Playground.” As a local TV celebrity, he often appeared in
parades as a western rider on his horse Comanche. During the initial phone
interview with my mom, Monte asked, “Does your son have any talent?” My mom
replied, “Well, you’re talking to his mother.” Monte then asked, “Is he
photogenic?” Mom responded with, “Well Mr. Hall, you’re still talking to his
mother?” An audition was arranged.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">What to sing? We approached
our next-door neighbor, Mrs. Bennett, who was a classically trained opera
singer and a church organist. She agreed to teach me a song. The song choice
was “April Love” a pop hit by Pat Boone. I tried not to giggle as Mrs. Bennett
sang a Pat Boone song in her operatic style. The song was learned and I was
ready for my audition. Mom and I made the trek to the downtown studio of
Channel 8. The high ceiling room with a piano in the middle seemed enormous to
me. With sheet music in hand, I walked over to the pianist. With all the
confidence a seven-year old boy could muster, I burst out in song about young
love in April. Apparently, I was a hit, because Monte Hall in his trademark
cowboy hat rushed over to me, picked me up, and swung me around the room. It
was agreed that next Saturday morning I would appear on “Tiny Town Ranch.”</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jmi7VeMNRarWRbDMI-MGlyHOJ9jZCT4T6_tCLdmq20GUtfPydG2ZzyDmwLjNhfzah9lJdqNvw3BEbRN3hoBh0PSrmqEmrbTGRsuNSO5B60oS_sC6zrwzGVLfjEJNIO2ziTlMrhyphenhyphenOwRBhzHc9ZLwbzTDtdgerWV5UP4EBBFd4kpC2IYJsgtgZd3zNYp8/s847/showbiz.%20photo1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="767" data-original-width="847" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-jmi7VeMNRarWRbDMI-MGlyHOJ9jZCT4T6_tCLdmq20GUtfPydG2ZzyDmwLjNhfzah9lJdqNvw3BEbRN3hoBh0PSrmqEmrbTGRsuNSO5B60oS_sC6zrwzGVLfjEJNIO2ziTlMrhyphenhyphenOwRBhzHc9ZLwbzTDtdgerWV5UP4EBBFd4kpC2IYJsgtgZd3zNYp8/s320/showbiz.%20photo1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Since the theme of the show
was western, I thought I should be dressed like a cowboy. That would have come
later. Now the task was to find appropriate clothing for a boy who had outgrown
his Easter Sunday suit. Obviously, my usual clothes of t-shirts and jeans
wouldn’t work, so neighbors were recruited to help out with my television
debut. Mrs. Wooten offered up her son’s grey slacks. With cuffs rolled up and
waist at mid chest, the too large pants would have to do. Our neighbor, Winnie
Graham, who used to have a dance studio, loaned me tap shoes and a shirt. To
this day, I wonder why I wore tap dance shoes when I wouldn’t be tap dancing.
Nonetheless, they were black and would pass as dress shoes. Mrs. Graham also
pulled from her costume trunk a puffy sleeve, mustard-yellow shirt with a
clumsy looking choirboy bow. I recently asked my mom, “Gee Mom!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why did you dress me so funny for my TV debut?”
She said, “I don’t know. I just thought since Winnie was a dance teacher, she
would know what to wear, and I just followed her advice.” Even though I was
chosen to sing, I looked like I was more suited to play “O Solo Mio” on the
accordion. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">My one TV appearance would
turn into a three-year gig. When I was ten years old, Monty Hall died and “Tiny
Town Ranch” died with him. Within two years, I would retire from show biz, a
twelve-year-old has-been.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Fast-forward sixty years!
Amberlee Prosser asked me if I would play a role as a grandfather for the Voices
of California production of “Once Upon a Song” at the Harris Center for the
Arts in Folsom. For anybody else, I would have said “No thanks!” However, because
the request came from the beloved Amberlee, I agreed. Then she emailed me the
script. As I watched the printer spit out five pages of dialogue, I started to
panic. “Oh shoot! Why in the heck did I ever say yes to this?” Any senior citizen
with short-term memory issues will identify with this. However, just as I had
taught my former fourth graders, I decided I would simply “chunk it” into
smaller pieces of information to learn the lines. I would retype the script in
much larger type, and then tape the pages to the wall. I would also photograph
pages into my phone for easy access. Flight or fight definitely kicked-in. But
then I figured, “Oh hell, if I forget a line, I’ll just improvise something
close.” My teaching career and the ability to “wing-it” would help me here.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EoNlVq4mAVMuH4CZiPq9XogmTvYEH_dFq4tiTHa8-HX3jiXHa-q0MLpHcI1RVzYoe3s0Fy6UDHxUejo5cLsgMq2ZhqaPdnoc9B2hHXh_qXwiLysAxLI_I-Di6sKODjy0kgzRI6RSiFnNMfa92fSfNfAMmHVtb7GcLZU1WNDwhmA70bFF903G2dsBM4I/s960/showbiz.photo2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_EoNlVq4mAVMuH4CZiPq9XogmTvYEH_dFq4tiTHa8-HX3jiXHa-q0MLpHcI1RVzYoe3s0Fy6UDHxUejo5cLsgMq2ZhqaPdnoc9B2hHXh_qXwiLysAxLI_I-Di6sKODjy0kgzRI6RSiFnNMfa92fSfNfAMmHVtb7GcLZU1WNDwhmA70bFF903G2dsBM4I/s320/showbiz.photo2.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Yesterday was the
performance. Actually, there were two performances, a matinee and evening
performance. I kept sneaking glances at my script on my phone to calm my last
minute nerves. My co-star, the wonderfully talented twelve-year-old Christian
Cabral, and I opened the show. I had to make sure I didn’t blow the opening.
“Oh dear God! Just get me through the first lines.” The spotlight was on
Christian and I as we began our dialogue from the audience and then proceeded
to walk onto the stage. We were off and running. Then I was fine. Actually, I
was more than fine. There was a moment when I thought; “This feels oddly
familiar like I’ve been on stage forever.” I guess old show biz ways die-hard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As I struggled with the
preparation for my acting role, I decided that after sixty-years of being on
and off stage that this would definitely be my last performance. But then
Amberlee said, “Hey, I have an idea for a show where you could. . .”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Performance Postscript<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Truth be told, I really
didn’t want any friends or family at my “swan song” performance. No flowers or
fanfare! I just wanted to do my job, not fall on my rear, and be done with it.
My ninety-one-year-old mother, Jeanne Bolstein, would have none of this. She
would be there. She would buy her own ticket and arrange her own ride. At the
end of the performance, I walked out to the lobby to find her. Carrying two
tote bags and a cane, she wanted to give me a present. The gift was a
beautiful, leather bound writing journal. Even though I really didn’t want or
need any family there, it did warm my heart to see my mom’s beaming, proud
face. It did seem especially fitting since over sixty years ago this woman
walked me hand-in-hand into my first audition, and now was still here to offer
a mom’s support. Boy, how lucky can a man get?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-55852125077511581702024-03-01T11:51:00.000-08:002024-03-01T11:52:36.344-08:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none;">MARCH<i style="outline: none;"> </i>2024</span></b></p><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none;"><i style="outline: none;">- "ALL GOOD THINGS"</i> -</span></b></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">A Celebratory Farewell and New Beginning</b></span></div></div></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none;"><span class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none;" /></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">Thirty years ago in 1994, <i style="outline: none;">Star Trek: The Next Generation</i> (aka TNG) concluded its seven year run in broadcast syndication with the Hugo Award winning "All Good Things," a series finale so well done that TV GUIDE Magazine rated it the number one finale for any television series! It was filmed as a two-part episode, but shown as a made-for-TV movie that provided the segue for the classic small screen series to migrate to a series of major motion pictures in the ensuing years. The <i style="outline: none;">Star Trek</i> franchise historically has been very strong with its character development and the deep bonds of friendship between its crew members. This is especially true for TNG, as the relationship of its bridge officers is noteworthy for following the same formula in this regard as the original 1960s series. What makes this TNG finale so compelling after three decades? The simple answer is that "All Good Things" s</b></span><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">erves as a template on how to bow out gracefully while simultaneously setting up a platform for future adventures in different venues. From an artistic standpoint, it allowed the TV series to go out on top while from a financial perspective it established a platform by which to create multiple future revenue streams that opened up with the advancement in digital technologies.</b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br /></b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-5EHKidWgpxss_Ti2y6yjQg28P1UlOBhPAHaFa7km2DRgaMuLEgqIaqj76q1hIMEtRUJZXYnsHZUYrRdmGwM9i_-ZrQQaOJVGaUFGJ34Pwhjmut85WvHfngK4LI8MjoGSqtl7QezDkorrxfgLlvLb0XC4i2E5BXHMUy5F8nDOOoQL35IHAp5DpliVu4/s513/TNG_Bridge_Officers.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="286" data-original-width="513" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA-5EHKidWgpxss_Ti2y6yjQg28P1UlOBhPAHaFa7km2DRgaMuLEgqIaqj76q1hIMEtRUJZXYnsHZUYrRdmGwM9i_-ZrQQaOJVGaUFGJ34Pwhjmut85WvHfngK4LI8MjoGSqtl7QezDkorrxfgLlvLb0XC4i2E5BXHMUy5F8nDOOoQL35IHAp5DpliVu4/s320/TNG_Bridge_Officers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b style="background-color: inherit; outline: none;"><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="background-color: inherit; outline: none;"><br /></b></span></span></span></div>The image of the starship Enterprise engenders wonderful memories for both casual and serious fans of the TNG franchise. The features that made "All Good Things" an award winning film can be identified as follows:</b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> Innovative format that leveraged the theme of time travel. Specifically, the story centers on the Captain Picard character travelling back and forth in three different time periods (past, present and future) in order to resolve a paradox in the space/time continuum that ultimately requires the reunion of the Enterprise bridge officers. The viewer is able to see the action unfold from the Captain's perspective while interacting with the full group of TNG characters from its series run while traversing back and forth in the different time periods. No other TV series or franchise has ever made more innovative or effective use of the time travel theme than <i style="outline: none;">Star Trek</i>, and the TNG finale put an exclamation point on this.</b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> "All Good Things" was a fitting finale as over the course of preceding episodes, the series was able to tie up all the loose ends in connection with the storyline for each of the main characters. The TNG finale was able to put a nice bow on its seven year voyage as a valedictory gift to its fans.</b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> In the closing scene, Captain Picard joins his bridge officers for their regular Poker game, after having shared with them the details of his time travels to help them avoid the missteps that would otherwise lead to them drifting apart. Having affirmed their strong bond of friendship forged over seven years of interstellar space travel, the fadeout shows Captain Picard dealing out the cards with the promise that more adventures lie ahead!</b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br /></b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><span style="color: #222222; outline: none;"><span style="background-color: inherit; color: blue; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPYnC5UakIYzxCCrGk4VVIeHMEIX_PAhGsMYAbrCWV2qY07o8OiDATuCeRzCPt2r-VLuXcLpbD7kvlisKp1Nnq1rbOyK4uv28O12-aJXIE0qNjXNe7AsYwm_YzMSKimIhJah3K9Nc_lyK02mkv5FUK2feKCbopcW7_HaqSq5geWjyEf1s8U2_VpTG39A/s1001/TNG_Enterprise.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1001" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPYnC5UakIYzxCCrGk4VVIeHMEIX_PAhGsMYAbrCWV2qY07o8OiDATuCeRzCPt2r-VLuXcLpbD7kvlisKp1Nnq1rbOyK4uv28O12-aJXIE0qNjXNe7AsYwm_YzMSKimIhJah3K9Nc_lyK02mkv5FUK2feKCbopcW7_HaqSq5geWjyEf1s8U2_VpTG39A/s320/TNG_Enterprise.jpg" width="180" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></span></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">Since the TNG series finale, there have been multiple <i style="outline: none;">Star Trek</i> programs and/or series, some of which have involved the TNG cast to various degrees. In several instances, we are treated to the TNG bridge crew and its starship Enterprise plotting out new adventures that reflect the passage of real time since the 1994 finale while also interacting with characters from the other <i style="outline: none;">Star Trek</i> series that followed. The advent of streaming technologies and fan fiction have generated enormous creative viewing opportunities and new journeys of imagination. Needless to say, this was preceded by a series of big screen motion pictures that transported the TNG bridge officers to spectacular new adventures while forever cementing their lasting image as offering an optimistic vision of the future. As noted, new streaming technologies concurrent with changing demographics and viewing habits have helped keep TNG fresh and vibrant, thereby attracting new generations of fans.</b></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEyOYfK9VDbLjNS-3B0rSiZhh0hVfPYQDrkgCWRDUPKDLhaaVkEWzaNyffZ7NcSBb7wrC5Q9s9N5PrUl4SAOrA80VA6MoS7z8kJtuxWSQixMQImCCpQUvhh5J-E3es1Tf3BMEF0JUScysQr1tHATfXajUY5SvqqDhEg33GHe9i0yK7A6B_wAHDoNYe8Hk/s1281/TNG_Full_Group.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1281" data-original-width="961" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEyOYfK9VDbLjNS-3B0rSiZhh0hVfPYQDrkgCWRDUPKDLhaaVkEWzaNyffZ7NcSBb7wrC5Q9s9N5PrUl4SAOrA80VA6MoS7z8kJtuxWSQixMQImCCpQUvhh5J-E3es1Tf3BMEF0JUScysQr1tHATfXajUY5SvqqDhEg33GHe9i0yK7A6B_wAHDoNYe8Hk/s320/TNG_Full_Group.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv7061929990gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">If you are looking for a made-for-TV movie that features imagination, character development, adventure and a truly satisfying ending that leaves the viewer wanting more, then "All Good Things" would be a worthwhile program to watch. As inferred from the title of this blog, it is both an end and a beginning!</b></span></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br /></b></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-62335004554955297382024-02-10T10:49:00.000-08:002024-02-10T10:49:13.500-08:00Remembering Valentine’s Day<p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><i>by Margaret Sizemore Clark</i>
On a calendar February 14 is singled out as Valentine’s Day, a day for celebrating love. For adults it could mean a proposal or celebrating an anniversary. Today’s moms and dads are busy people so many parents simply go online to buy the cards that their children will be taking to school to share with classmates. When I was a teacher, I set aside time for making Valentine’s bags, which called for LOTS of red and pink construction paper, glue, and the dreaded glitter. As I kid, I can remember making that same kind of bag and looking forward to filling them with valentines on which I had written the recipient’s name with fancy lettering. Then, when Valentine’s Day arrived the cards went into the bags and then were taken to our desks to open and read each one, maybe even hoping to get a special card from a particular person. After school we gathered up our bags and headed home, where the bag was put on a shelf to reread the cards later. “Later” turned into days and weeks and eventually those once-anticipated cards found their way into the </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">ash can and forgotten.</span></span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHdqDEaoapvkp-4hFRySxAnwrwJEfB_ry8x-tGZkwY4zkjnbks9zXWg-gAqjVVVi9bNYQuClFRRVUpAwgJqzSwlI8OkAKiiQYl1o8euNctPyQuAKJpj-dS6g1RPX6Uokx3xYCUWL_Hb4egtaa2L97-u0QnGwJu95xEw5ErmR6mNUVb24QDeZod7SoXTpM" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="428" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiHdqDEaoapvkp-4hFRySxAnwrwJEfB_ry8x-tGZkwY4zkjnbks9zXWg-gAqjVVVi9bNYQuClFRRVUpAwgJqzSwlI8OkAKiiQYl1o8euNctPyQuAKJpj-dS6g1RPX6Uokx3xYCUWL_Hb4egtaa2L97-u0QnGwJu95xEw5ErmR6mNUVb24QDeZod7SoXTpM=w486-h358" width="486" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"> But not so with my mother. She was born in 1922 so when she reached elementary school age it would have been the late 20’s and early 30’s, and the Great Depression was gaining momentum. Her family was fortunate in that her father had a job and kept his job all through the Depression, but I’m sure many of her friends were not as lucky. Money was tight, so things like valentines were a luxury. Many of us that had parents who were raised during that time have learned it’s difficult for them to part with things. In their lives nothing went to waste, whether it was a piece of equipment that broke, flour sacks that were sewn into dresses, even newspapers that were used as insulation on walls. Perhaps that’s why Mom saved her valentines; they were precious things that were given by someone who cared about her, and they meant something to her. Mom saved about forty of her valentines from a range of years and stored them in a candy box, never sharing them with us kids. In the late 90’s Mom developed dementia and when my dad went through her things, he discovered the box. It was hard for him to know what to keep and what to part with, but he kept the valentines, and on the candy box he wrote a note to us “kids”.
"<i>These are old valentines Mama received as a child and later youth. They are really keepsakes. One of you please keep them as they were meaningful to her</i>.":</span><p></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTS8kryFQnlegVBToi9ilTiREZoe5OQPc_9a68OCFD6_5k-VCYnAsydtwf0bslC4qWiLb3AGHeuDofrASWuyD3dcrSy5x-L3OdJl4hDrb8D6Mqloo1g55_Ld0VbzEiHQTq6taeO3S-GRRTtNPQe38A2jPyOJZtURTF1KjNrE8YB5E8jCfsNFXor-mloQs" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="494" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgTS8kryFQnlegVBToi9ilTiREZoe5OQPc_9a68OCFD6_5k-VCYnAsydtwf0bslC4qWiLb3AGHeuDofrASWuyD3dcrSy5x-L3OdJl4hDrb8D6Mqloo1g55_Ld0VbzEiHQTq6taeO3S-GRRTtNPQe38A2jPyOJZtURTF1KjNrE8YB5E8jCfsNFXor-mloQs=w495-h320" width="495" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;">The valentines came to me for safe keeping. When I opened the candy box I discovered a bit of my mother as she had been as a girl. She must have been well-liked. Many of the cards were still in their envelopes, yellowed with age, and on them, handwritten in very legible cursive, was written, “To Mary Lee James” or just “Mary Lee”. Some were brittle and had tears on them, while others were just as bright and crisp as they were when they were new. I opened each card and read the sentiments on every valentine. They were sweet and reflected the innocence of their day.
One valentine has a little boy in shorts holding a hot water bottle that says, “Warm up to Me” then below that it says, “and be my valentine.” The little girl is wearing a baby-doll dress with bloomers that peek out below the rather-short dress. Another shows a burglar complete with newsboy cap and a mask over his eyes breaking into a safe. It reads, “I think it’s “SAFE” to say I’m fond of YOU.” His bag of burglars’ tools is red, has a heart on it, and asks the reader to “Be Mine.” </span>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGCQ_ePaSUHatC6qwT3HcOLR6SLl6_thMN8MeZxO6MvetMj7LEi-N6JvkV7MDy5ZuMTkB9Cr0I5UVUlO4hlyBG6TgII2q-XdwOE4H1Tf_4iV7W8w3_lh5x2sOQ1cbuVQ7sf7e7ECA3rXTXKUHqWmFemLe2UYzBrsJXVBZv0FTkQf_SteL-2vm8KdiJzz8" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="240" height="545" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGCQ_ePaSUHatC6qwT3HcOLR6SLl6_thMN8MeZxO6MvetMj7LEi-N6JvkV7MDy5ZuMTkB9Cr0I5UVUlO4hlyBG6TgII2q-XdwOE4H1Tf_4iV7W8w3_lh5x2sOQ1cbuVQ7sf7e7ECA3rXTXKUHqWmFemLe2UYzBrsJXVBZv0FTkQf_SteL-2vm8KdiJzz8=w411-h545" width="411" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Another card made me smile. It depicts a little boy driving a black jalopy that resembles something one would see in a Keystone Kops movie. It’s a convertible carrying a load of valentines, and the boy has a valentine in his hand that says, “Greetings Old Dear.” (How’s that for a romantic lead-off?) He must have just graduated from the School of Love and is now headed to see his sweetheart, because there is a document in the back seat that says, “Diploma of Love”. His jalopy is emblazoned with his printing, telling the world it was “New York or Bust”. On the driver’s door “She’s My Baby” is written and there’s a drawing of a red heart with an arrow through it saying, “Spiked For Life”. I’m not sure if I would appreciate being spiked for life, but you get the idea; this kid is in LOVE!! </span><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />
Fruit was mentioned on several of the cards. One had a little boy in an orchard who has just picked a heart from one of the trees. He is handing it to a little girl who is holding both hands out. The card reads, “Say yes, Valentine ‘cause you’re a peach and we’d make a good “pear”!” Another shows a little girl holding an adorable little puppy sitting on a large peach. “It Will Be Peachy” is written on the piece of fruit, but the rest of the valentine is hidden under glass.
Several of the cards referred to being up in the air. On one, a hot air balloon is floating with a little boy dropping a valentine saying, “I Love You” down to a little girl. On the gondola is written, “I want to drop in” and the balloon is hovering over a fence draped in valentines that say, “And Be Your Valentine”. There is another that features a little girl who is balancing on a highwire. The card tells us that, “You are keeping me “Up in the Air” My Valentine”. I thought it interesting that it was the girl telling the boy that he was keeping her dangling.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCvlr0G6m_3dPIV5pN1_w__sSr6KOREgAorQW1gmIjbT5eWo-3_LgGHFFgu92pXX7NGa5WSyOoYDYEIWbfctKSJDAlaXCs-gfFgkCbnIWiQPgN0us2XcKrR51aOOILIXHqFynYlyqPuXSdlS34adNcflmxWW81sNSZzOCUpomqx6DGgJ67hYSUcsgWLME" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="276" data-original-width="572" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgCvlr0G6m_3dPIV5pN1_w__sSr6KOREgAorQW1gmIjbT5eWo-3_LgGHFFgu92pXX7NGa5WSyOoYDYEIWbfctKSJDAlaXCs-gfFgkCbnIWiQPgN0us2XcKrR51aOOILIXHqFynYlyqPuXSdlS34adNcflmxWW81sNSZzOCUpomqx6DGgJ67hYSUcsgWLME=w490-h236" width="490" /></a></div><br /> <span style="font-size: medium;"> One year I thought of a way Mom’s valentines could be shared with my siblings. I sorted them, carefully trimmed some of them, mounted them on lignin-free paper, and placed them in shadow boxes made with glass that filters 99% of UV rays. I made copies of my father’s note and placed a copy on the back of each shadow box so that my brother and sisters would know the significance these cards had to our mother.
I’m sure that the children who presented the valentines to my mother could never imagine that they would still be around almost a hundred years later and that they were cherished by her. They could not know that their sweet little valentines gave Mom’s family the gift of glimpsing their mother as she was as a child.
So, if you are fortunate enough to get a valentine this year, think about the person who gave it to you, and consider how much they care about you. Happy Valentine’s Day.
</span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">###</span></span></p><div><br /></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-63145157921570264562024-02-05T13:38:00.000-08:002024-02-05T13:38:00.941-08:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">FEBRUARY<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2024</span></b></p><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- DOUG WILLIAMS</i> -</span></b></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">Celebrating Black History Month & Super Bowl</span></b></div></div></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">February is a time in which we celebrate Black History Month along with this year's latest edition of The Super Bowl. In this month's Blog we celebrate both events through a special tribute to Doug Williams - an NFL legend and hero whose legacy goes well beyond the gridiron. Mr Williams is an American football executive, former coach and quarterback whose transcendent presence in each of these venues helped to break down societal and institutional barriers, thereby creating opportunities for generations to follow. His legendary gridiron status is exemplified by quarterbacking his team to a Super Bowl Championship and winning the Most Valuable Player (MVP) award for that game. In other words, on the biggest stage Mr Williams was the best or most impactful player in the biggest game of all while making history as the first African-American to both start and win a Super Bowl. However this amazing accomplishment was just a part, and not the entirety, of an inspired life noteworthy for commitment to excellence and integrity. Following his playing career, Mr Williams began a stellar coaching career, most notably as the head coach for his alma mater, the Grambling State Tigers. Following that he has served as an executive with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, Virginia Destroyers and Washington Redskins (now named the Commanders).</b></span></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NfENm9BuACLL6bMeV_mOyzrtoPTY0Uu8eqJFxW_7cmNVRmDY6yu3BUCYCIVJqCXpi5F75uHemuZ-7jbNjH9ualwr5UyWuZE1KUhKhi5Hwn-Wsa5WO67y3aaFHezFhairLGzUJ9KiX6v3vvHKn_3KUOdyd4Rl2yiOS9fx8CxwcV1l7z6jJPlIPQZDegg/s1904/Doug_williams_.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1904" data-original-width="1775" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3NfENm9BuACLL6bMeV_mOyzrtoPTY0Uu8eqJFxW_7cmNVRmDY6yu3BUCYCIVJqCXpi5F75uHemuZ-7jbNjH9ualwr5UyWuZE1KUhKhi5Hwn-Wsa5WO67y3aaFHezFhairLGzUJ9KiX6v3vvHKn_3KUOdyd4Rl2yiOS9fx8CxwcV1l7z6jJPlIPQZDegg/s320/Doug_williams_.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><b style="outline: none !important;">As a collegiate player, Mr Williams excelled on the field and in the classroom -- graduating with a Bachelor's degree in Health & Physical Education while leading his team to three conference titles and finishing 4th in the 1977 Heisman Trophy voting. He had a transformative impact in the professional ranks with two franchises: first with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and later with the Washington Redskins. The Buccaneers, which had won just two games in the first two years of its existence (1976-1977), went to the NFL Playoffs three times during the five years that Williams was the starting quarterback and played for the 1979 NFC Championship! In the midst of the tumultuous, strike-ridden 1987 season, Williams was initially a substitute quarterback for the Washington Redskins, but later took over when the starting QB was injured. With Williams at the controls, the Redskins were undefeated in the postseason that culminated with winning Super Bowl XXII.</b></span></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9H-M4INuoksodMvdooW0AQ-QL34ejtF9UIlt2BrjuC0nr4GOGwi3YSgoiAkz7bOaxPyQBojUv2IQ-zragDoWcTSGPJ0fWUXcD0ivTCvzZTEnaVUtGch_p07c2McqDJqn54VMCP4ZYNeyQzc-z4zySqt1cm87xBGbmgPibTnpIhgldLBz7kR4j627fTk4/s486/1988_Redskins_Doug_Williams.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="486" data-original-width="420" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9H-M4INuoksodMvdooW0AQ-QL34ejtF9UIlt2BrjuC0nr4GOGwi3YSgoiAkz7bOaxPyQBojUv2IQ-zragDoWcTSGPJ0fWUXcD0ivTCvzZTEnaVUtGch_p07c2McqDJqn54VMCP4ZYNeyQzc-z4zySqt1cm87xBGbmgPibTnpIhgldLBz7kR4j627fTk4/s320/1988_Redskins_Doug_Williams.jpg" width="277" /></a></div><b style="outline: none !important;">Although Mr Williams dealt with racism from fans, and even certain assistant coaches, he never lost faith as he was blessed with two head coaches -- John McKay (Tampa Bay Buccaneers) and Joe Gibbs (Washington Redskins) -- who not only believed in Williams but during the course of their own respective coaching careers in college and the NFL, also helped pave the way in breaking down long-held prejudices and biases. From his mentors, Williams was inspired to pioneer more opportunities in the coaching and administrative ranks just as he did for the position of quarterback. The parallel with Major League Baseball's Branch Rickey and Jackie Robinson from the late 1940s is self-evident. Doug Williams helped change NFL history in a manner that reflects honor, excellence, integrity and sportsmanship. He was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in 2001 and into the Tampa Bay Buccaneers Ring of Honor and Washington Redskins (now named the Commanders) Ring of Fame in 2015.</b></span></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv6944566017gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Please join us in saluting Doug Williams - truly "A Man For All Seasons" - as we honor both Black History Month and Super Bowl. To learn more about Doug Williams, we would recommend checking out the wealth of published biographical articles online along with viewing a one-hour biography on the NFL Network's "A Football Life."</b></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-59659383107030208882024-01-20T20:34:00.000-08:002024-01-27T10:55:17.756-08:00 Memories of the First Televised Presidential Debate<p><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><i>By Gil Tisnado</i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I was thinking back sixty-four years ago when I was in sixth grade; We were given the homework
assignment of watching the very first televised presidential debate. It
probably didn’t have to be assigned, since nearly every family in our
neighborhood would be watching. It was a very big deal.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I learned yesterday that JFK
and Nixon were actually “friendly rivals.” They weren’t close friends; however,
Nixon was invited to JFK’s wedding in 1953. Much has been written of how much
better Kennedy looked than Nixon on the first debate. Kennedy understood that
TV was a visual medium and used it to his advantage. On the day of the debate,
Kennedy worked on his tan and listened to Peggy Lee records. Nixon, on the
other hand, had just spent three weeks in the hospital with a badly inflamed
knee and had made several campaign appearances around town. While JFK was tan
and rested, Nixon was pale and gaunt from his hospital stay—and this would cost
him votes.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Being ten years old and soon
to be eleven, I thought that JFK was the coolest of the dudes, and based on
appearances alone, he should be president. I do remember that after President
Eisenhower, who was a very old seventy at the time, both Nixon and JFK seemed
relatively young for adults. (Nixon was 47 and JFK was 43.) At school, we held
campaign rallies and mock debates. The moderators were two classmates playing
Chet Huntley and David Brinkley (the two biggest names in broadcasting outside
of Walter Cronkite.) As a retired teacher, I can now fully appreciate what a
wonderful civics lesson this was.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">After watching the
Trump/Biden debate, I went back and watched YouTube videos from the JFK/Nixon
debates. It was a fascinating exercise. My takeaway from seeing these videos
were how damn smart and articulate both candidates were. I can now understand
why the 1960 presidential election was so close. They really were two brilliant
men. But more than that, there was such a sense of civility, decorum, and
mutual respect. No talking over each other, mugging for the camera, eye
rolling, or name-calling—but simply presenting their vision for the future of our
country.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I think before the next
debate that our current presidential candidates should watch these master
classes in debate. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if they also played some Peggy Lee
records!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaM32C8DTWRW9AeRDNJx79VY7hFApcHwn-k8En_jXYLFysw6SS01OTRL6Sl04o16xkbvObIVQfylYiKdKfP2yJ_fPvOxFeni5zvn2LKKhYeiLnKcOzc5d7DjwGEOLNAmz7PtUwontKs61Y3v65FplBBrmrXIwQvDhLQv5ALupPKXaH3ufW04jPG7eNB9E/s2813/JFK.Nixon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1909" data-original-width="2813" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaM32C8DTWRW9AeRDNJx79VY7hFApcHwn-k8En_jXYLFysw6SS01OTRL6Sl04o16xkbvObIVQfylYiKdKfP2yJ_fPvOxFeni5zvn2LKKhYeiLnKcOzc5d7DjwGEOLNAmz7PtUwontKs61Y3v65FplBBrmrXIwQvDhLQv5ALupPKXaH3ufW04jPG7eNB9E/s320/JFK.Nixon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-7960892874730805262024-01-05T09:13:00.000-08:002024-01-05T09:13:00.361-08:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">JANUARY<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2024</span></b></p><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- See You at the World's Fair!</i> -</span></b></div></div></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">For Baby Boomers whose school years Grades K through 12 spanned the 1960s, it felt like a decade chock full of World's Fairs. Most notably were Seattle 1962, New York City 1964, Montreal (Canada) 1967 and HemisFair - San Antonio 1968. Since the mid-19th century, there have been large global exhibitions (termed world's fair or fun exhibition or expo) for showcasing the achievements of nations. The theme for these exhibitions have changed over the years and can be described as spanning three eras: Industrialization (1851-1938), Cultural Exchange (1939-1987) and Nation Branding (1988 to present).</b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrAQ2nHpD4sYBnxaNsRgJy-f_V7Z_bvjT5hef39JpZambHWb47SP2b-6WbwNWsfIKRB4aWxFglw4yRArAK7dZTvcW8E47XXrSjGfkjPclYNGOX4EEG0ZMT0oiFBuwNQrghPD00aDyBJ9RAy0UR-y3IPoTgETVVp3a2KNPfMhEuB5y_JmCG5wqHIMThsk/s300/Seattle_world_fair_stamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="191" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOrAQ2nHpD4sYBnxaNsRgJy-f_V7Z_bvjT5hef39JpZambHWb47SP2b-6WbwNWsfIKRB4aWxFglw4yRArAK7dZTvcW8E47XXrSjGfkjPclYNGOX4EEG0ZMT0oiFBuwNQrghPD00aDyBJ9RAy0UR-y3IPoTgETVVp3a2KNPfMhEuB5y_JmCG5wqHIMThsk/s1600/Seattle_world_fair_stamp.jpg" width="191" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">These exhibitions have been held in various parts of the world at a specific site for various periods of time, but typically ranging three to six months in length. They not only reflect the eras in which the exhibitions were staged but in many cases, convey a positive, optimistic vision of the future based on extrapolation of the technology and demographic trends of the day.</b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTEalW0Ngbzbb2oBn8bxYMno0bd1LecKEd05xLSlX7KW64mt5AGudxGnJYwcR35mYQmma9mi3wvREnk1x7iz_L29YZbv7JSEQKX-za4zrIAJZuq08IItjDtMRvRvWAd4YRboDNP_8X6IN2s63TZrQcIqPfyU5DNfGZ0zL-j2sikEJhWD63ATTf_zsmuY/s400/1964_New_York_World_Fair_Stamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="400" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTEalW0Ngbzbb2oBn8bxYMno0bd1LecKEd05xLSlX7KW64mt5AGudxGnJYwcR35mYQmma9mi3wvREnk1x7iz_L29YZbv7JSEQKX-za4zrIAJZuq08IItjDtMRvRvWAd4YRboDNP_8X6IN2s63TZrQcIqPfyU5DNfGZ0zL-j2sikEJhWD63ATTf_zsmuY/s320/1964_New_York_World_Fair_Stamp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">As television and jet air travel became pervasive during the 1960s, the World's Fair became a topic of serious conversation for people of all ages. In fact, with the mass-market <i style="outline: none !important;">My Weekly Reader</i> publication distributed nationwide to both private and public schools (Grades K through 12), school children were able to converse intelligently with their elders at mealtimes as this iconic newspaper for young people provided in-depth coverage on the World's Fair exhibitions that were on the North American continent. Not only did these events stimulate family conversation, but also provided the impetus for special summer vacation outings or family trips while being celebrated with the issuance of commemorative postage stamps. These commemorative stamps from the four World's Fair exhibitions mentioned in this article are shown here and have become Baby Boomer collectibles.</b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNELGER4qeuAdgcIj9lQExlKAhFvi3wdttG2rfU8v8Lwke8l0BXNJnhev2XanyYNL95bxU-FD05z9WFC8_3ewvCEycTbtttd4soAmUlz0daOWzkfwefjNdDHnv9234If5hyphenhyphenjqVE16C_jEBCCRdCchaJQoSLFtVMnsuBKyNkf9cycjEe7Q1B5hHWefJV2U/s1796/expo-67-canada-stamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1231" data-original-width="1796" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNELGER4qeuAdgcIj9lQExlKAhFvi3wdttG2rfU8v8Lwke8l0BXNJnhev2XanyYNL95bxU-FD05z9WFC8_3ewvCEycTbtttd4soAmUlz0daOWzkfwefjNdDHnv9234If5hyphenhyphenjqVE16C_jEBCCRdCchaJQoSLFtVMnsuBKyNkf9cycjEe7Q1B5hHWefJV2U/s320/expo-67-canada-stamp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">The 1960s World's Fair exhibitions so widely remembered by Baby Boomers are associated with major landmarks that remain standing to this day and are emblematic of special moments in time. The Space Needle and Seattle Center Monorail (1962), the Unisphere in New York City (1964), the Montreal Biosphere (1967) and the Tower of the Americas and San Antonio Convention Center (1968) celebrate the theme of Cultural Exchange while extolling a positive outlook for the future. World's Fair landmarks that remain standing and becoming famous are not new. It actually started with the Eiffel Tower built in Paris for Exposition Universelle (1889) and the aforementioned North American landmarks have continued this tradition. Notably, the Space Needle and Tower of the Americas are American variants of the Eiffel Tower.</b></span></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEYYW1ou5FpSsiABpeeVM0x5Gc7S_Lfaq-BOiy0bmC4anhmNi_3ZWoRBoURleK6_OHqPVNyDMXj_VsLlMQth_GB69qXgGEcguDfNMJ3qnt4POBg4qwnkTUVXS0i8uAvGKUzDQgDbPOlx6stXK0hUL9Ag2T4lUXktHQ3MdLcHEKb-PoOdlrZkXF1FwCaY/s250/Hemisfair68.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="162" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTEYYW1ou5FpSsiABpeeVM0x5Gc7S_Lfaq-BOiy0bmC4anhmNi_3ZWoRBoURleK6_OHqPVNyDMXj_VsLlMQth_GB69qXgGEcguDfNMJ3qnt4POBg4qwnkTUVXS0i8uAvGKUzDQgDbPOlx6stXK0hUL9Ag2T4lUXktHQ3MdLcHEKb-PoOdlrZkXF1FwCaY/s1600/Hemisfair68.jpg" width="162" /></a></div><br /><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv7064027977gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Yours truly has fond memories of the World's Fair landmarks in Paris, Seattle, New York and especially San Antonio as I was able to personally attend HemisFair 1968. What are your recollections of these special events? Were you able to attend them in person or visit them later during their afterlife? We invite you to share these memories by posting to the GNN FACEBOOK page (and "liking" us when doing so) or send them to us via the GNN g-mail address. We wish all of you a Happy New Year! </b></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-23501185143812988672023-12-30T16:15:00.000-08:002023-12-30T16:19:07.275-08:00 "Let’s Teach Margaret to Sew"<p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">by Margaret Sizemore Clark</span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">In my youth I was what I would consider to be a tomboy. I grew up playing with my older brother’s Matchbox cars. One year for my birthday I received a “huge” Pontiac station wagon car, not a model of one, but a scaled-down version of the real thing, just right for transporting a Barbie, but she hadn’t been invented yet! I was delighted!! I rather enjoyed doing “car” things with my father, and I liked playing in the dirt after a rare rain. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> In those days girls were taught all the necessary skills to be a good homemaker, hostess, wife, and mother. Sewing was one of the skills to that end, and being accomplished using a sewing machine was something that my family did well. My mother made matching outfits for me and the sister just a year younger than I, along with the sister that was eight years after her. We frequently received lots of comments about the cute matching dresses or shorts sets when we went places. Additionally, at least two of my sisters learned to sew when they were Girl Scouts. My oldest sister was making her own clothes in high school and became very skilled at it. I was never a Girl Scout. The pressure to conform to “the norm” was mounting, but I resisted. To her credit, Mom kept trying to encourage me to sew but eventually she realized that it wasn’t a good idea to try to force me to learn, and apparently the sewing gene had skipped me, so I dodged that bullet. But in junior high it came up AGAIN: one of my best friends was in 4H and was making her clothes, as were most of my friends. It was pointed out what beautiful, fashionable clothes they were creating, but I wasn’t taking the bait. The last assault on my refusal to learn to sew came when my older sister needed a babysitter for the summer while she and her husband worked. I was invited to come to Oregon to live with their family. Little did I suspect that it was to be another attempt to teach me to sew, and I was trapped! My sister patiently tried yet again to teach me how to sew, and I tried, I really did! I think I made something fairly simple, using straight seams, but when it was done, so was I.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFqJUlmXKkuCLPG3bhKiLoK-KTMkvsjVW31SNeYvOf86xvHHqmazXwkP_E9tB_xd1j-iqcqk-tcEXJs9yQ2Ea5S8qFZPX_I83tBeLR5595BZ1I7ucdSnImlmIfokNdslhUOhSBqhXPm4kktoqkcyW0rY4VrUm_B4AomOL_HH39PAtBztP3el0CUYp-ocw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img alt="" data-original-height="173" data-original-width="250" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgFqJUlmXKkuCLPG3bhKiLoK-KTMkvsjVW31SNeYvOf86xvHHqmazXwkP_E9tB_xd1j-iqcqk-tcEXJs9yQ2Ea5S8qFZPX_I83tBeLR5595BZ1I7ucdSnImlmIfokNdslhUOhSBqhXPm4kktoqkcyW0rY4VrUm_B4AomOL_HH39PAtBztP3el0CUYp-ocw=w417-h288" width="417" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /> Years later my oldest sister retired to Sisters, Oregon. Now, if you or a loved one are into quilting, you know that Sisters has an outdoor quilt show every July, and the quiet, sleepy little town with about 1500 citizens swells to ten times that much. Women come from all over to take classes, make quilts, compare projects, and see what others have created during the year since they last came to Sisters. My younger sister and two of her friends were teachers, so they were able to make the pilgrimage to “Mecca”, aka Sisters, every summer, a week ahead of the quilt show. During that week they fed their addiction for buying fabric, sewed, taught each other new techniques, and showed off new machines. I was a teacher too, but at a year-round school, so I couldn’t come with them. Eventually I was able to transfer to the track that was closest to the traditional school year, so I was invited to join them, BUT: I was warned that since I didn’t sew, I would have to bring some other type of hobby that would keep me occupied, or else I would have to be “Cinderella” and wait on the others. I complied. I didn’t want to miss out on the shopping trips, the gabbing, and seeing the amazing things they created so I became “The Husband”. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> Husbands are the patient angels that come with their wives during Quilt Show week. They are so legendary, that wise quilt store owners have created a special place for them to hang out while their wives shop. There is usually a tent with chairs, and a large ice chest filled with cold water. It fell on me to drive my four “sisters” from fabric store to fabric store and wait in the husband area while they shopped, had the fabric cut, and waited to pay for it. It can be a very time-consuming process, but I was armed with a good book or a crossword puzzle BOOK (not just ONE puzzle) to work on while I waited for them to exit. Back at the house I often ironed pieces of projects while they sewed, or generally helped wherever I was needed. You may be thinking that my “job” sounded an awful lot like one Cinderella might have done, only there was a big difference. I loved doing it. We laughed a lot and we listened to each other while we worked on our projects. We knew when an engagement had been announced or a new baby was expected. We also heard who had lost a loved one, or whose family had a problem. In a very real sense, all five of us were sisters, although not all of us were related by blood. That was the real take-away from the weeks and years we made the trip to Sisters.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> One year we all went to the quilt show as usual, slowly wandering through Sisters looking at that year’s quilts, until we came to a building where we stopped. My favorite color is purple, so I went over to inspect a particularly lovely purple quilt. A voice over my shoulder instructed to read the tag on it. It read, “Made for Margaret Clark by” and gave all four of their names. I burst into tears! They wanted me to know how much my being there had meant to them, so they had made the quilt top during the winter and sent it to my older sister to quilt. It was a truly a labor of love and a gift I cherish. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> These days my “sisters” and I are in our 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s and are retired. The home in Sisters was sold. I STILL don’t sew. But on every occasion when we notice or use the treasures that came from Sisters, we recall the times we spent there and the love that went into making those precious gifts.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> -#-</span></p><div><br /></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-76013353506619218202023-12-19T15:37:00.000-08:002023-12-19T15:37:40.140-08:00<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Memories of Christmas Past<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p><i>By Margaret Sizemore Clark</i> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Christmas will be here before
we know it and, as it does every year, it got me to thinking about Christmases
past. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am in my 69<sup>th</sup> year
and Christmas has certainly changed!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Here are a few cherished memories I have from my childhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hope they trigger memories of special times
you had.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Growing up in the desert we
did not get snow, so forget about building snowmen, sledding, and snowball
fights like in the movies or on TV. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forget about Santa arriving via sleigh,
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the leaves blew off the
cottonwood trees, and the nights grew cooler we knew that winter was on the way.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After Thanksgiving all the things that signaled
“Christmas” started happening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My mother was a baker and enjoyed
making candy, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the season
changed, she started buying extra butter, sugar, flour, and nuts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While my dad watched football games on TV, it
was his job to crack open the walnuts, almonds, and pecans that would end up
being used in Mom’s cookies, pecan logs, fudge, divinity, and toffee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since many of our extended family lived in
other states most of her confections had to be mailed, which meant getting
everything made early.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wonderful smells
filled the kitchen, and it was so hard not to eat everything as soon as she had
it ready.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we knew better!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After everything was safely in the mail, Mom
would start all over again to make the same goodies for our local friends, and
for us! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, all these years later, my
sisters and I still make many of the cookies, toffee, rolls, and other sweets,
using Mom’s recipes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have made three
cookbooks containing her recipes, so they don’t disappear.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Getting a Christmas tree was
always fun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most Christmases we went to
a tree lot and bought a tree, not a flocked tree, or an aluminum tree with one
of those gadgets that rotated and turned the tree different colors. We had a
real Douglas fir tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were those
times, though, when we drove up to the Greenhorns in the Sierra Nevada
mountains to cut a tree.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My grandparents
had a mine they tinkered in and there were trees on their property, so that’s
where we headed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To get there we had to
drive up through Walker Pass, which often had snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We got to get out of the car and play in it,
and of course we had to build a snowman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many people had sleds or toboggans, but most of us used a squashed
cardboard box to slide down an embankment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was a special day, and when we were done playing, we headed home to
dry clothes and a warm meal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
evening we set the tree up and decorated it, right down to the silvery icicles
dangling from all the branches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Of course, Santa Claus made
an appearance to kick off the season, but he didn’t arrive in a sleigh pulled
by eight tiny reindeer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, in our neck
of the desert Santa arrived on a Navy firetruck, with the horn honking, siren
blaring, and Santa waving at all the kids lined up and down the street while
his elves threw candy. We scurried into the street to grab all that we could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was chaos!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Santa’s arrival also meant the opening of Toyland, a magical place set
up by the Navy Exchange for the benefit of the sailors and their families
stationed at China Lake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was housed
at the fire department, and parents could take their kids for a visit to view all
the toys they hoped Santa would be putting under their tree on Christmas
morning. Mom and Dad could go back later to get the right toys.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The Navy also installed and
maintained a giant star on B Mountain. On a certain night in December the star
would be lit up with white lights for all to see, and THAT meant Christmas was
getting close! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After I left home, I
would visit for Christmas, and knew I would see that star when our car rounded
the curve and dropped into the valley. It’s light shining meant one thing: I
was <i>home.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sadly, the star was
destroyed in the 7.1 earthquake on July 4, 2019, and has not been replaced.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Christmas also meant school
programs involving plays, singing, and band concerts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I generally liked that kind of thing, but
when I was in the 7<sup>th</sup> grade, our music teacher wrote a play that
called for eight small reindeer. I was always one of the shortest kids in my
class, so I and seven other pee-wees donned paper-mache reindeer heads and pranced
about the stage. It was something I won’t forget and at my 50<sup>th</sup> high
school reunion last year, I was able to visit with one of the other reindeer.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Our church always had a
Christmas Eve service which my family attended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We sang carols and carried lighted candles. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the end of the service each child received
a stocking made of netting, filled with candy and fruit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can remember Mr. Porter’s friendly smile as
he passed out the gifts.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My most memorable Christmas
was when I was a freshman in high school and my youngest sister was a
Kindergartener.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A week or so before
Christmas, she came down with the mumps, and of course it spread to the rest of
us kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The twins both had light cases,
but as luck would have it, my symptoms showed up on the Friday we got out of
school for Christmas vacation. My neck disappeared, I felt terrible, and all I
wanted to do was sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had no
appetite, not even for all the good stuff Mom had made. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I lived on Fresca and aspirin for the better
part of two weeks and my Christmas was spent lying on the sofa watching my
siblings open their gifts. I have no idea if I opened my gifts that day; I
couldn’t eat Christmas dinner with my family, and I was miserable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My mother said I was the sickest kid she had
ever seen, and since she had six of them, she ought to know!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every Christmas I make it a point to remind
my little sister (now 60 years old) of that memorable “gift” and that I have
never forgiven her for it. Just kidding.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Christmas would not have been
Christmas without the Firestone Christmas albums my parents bought every
year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You know, the ones with all the
stars of the day singing Christmas carols, The Boston Pops playing something jaunty,
and the obligatory operatic star belting out a hymn. After listening to those
albums over and over, year after year, we became experts at imitating the songs
on them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I’m not one to brag, but
yours truly still does a pret-ty mean imitation of Maurice Chevalier “singing” <u>Jolly
Old St. Nicholas</u>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just ask my
sister, Martha: she calls me every year to tell me that when she plays her CD
of the album, she still hears me singing <u>Jolly Old St. Nicholas</u> and we
laugh together, just like we did when we were kids.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Who hasn’t seen the movie <u>White
Christmas</u>? If you’re like my family, we watched it every year, eventually
memorizing the songs from the movie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
have three sisters, so every time Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye sang “Sisters” we
would have to sing along with them. My sisters and I live in different parts of
the country now, but we will watch it and send each other a meme just so we all
know we are thinking of the other sisters.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Christmas has changed: I live
in Washington now, so having a white Christmas is a distinct possibility.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Sears Catalog we pored over and circled
all our Christmas wishes in is no more. Instead, we have Amazon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Making homemade goodies for neighbors and
friends doesn’t happen so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Time
moves on. Although Christmas is different, I am blessed with being able to recall
those long-ago times and smile. Maybe even laugh.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Merry Christmas to all!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bs4tZSV5P25lZgU2uyxabM43AxsyT2tbLIsm4giYwIXkIqCfRX0Tov5eBFN7LAeMA4Nb1PmZlHD54bOejEL2jyHYLvW4mG2Di7njFyeJUckZEXG4ynVxVLlhJcqQFtaxidvwMjLw5D7ejbBin8ZjgMlw3e_MH4rZ3Sa2zhyphenhyphenpeOgw8Xv83cNLgzjMbI0/s1167/Christmas-Tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1167" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8bs4tZSV5P25lZgU2uyxabM43AxsyT2tbLIsm4giYwIXkIqCfRX0Tov5eBFN7LAeMA4Nb1PmZlHD54bOejEL2jyHYLvW4mG2Di7njFyeJUckZEXG4ynVxVLlhJcqQFtaxidvwMjLw5D7ejbBin8ZjgMlw3e_MH4rZ3Sa2zhyphenhyphenpeOgw8Xv83cNLgzjMbI0/s320/Christmas-Tree.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-67500938708589717212023-12-06T13:07:00.000-08:002023-12-06T13:07:37.340-08:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- Vintage TV Christmas: Irwin Allen Style</i> -</span></b></p><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Nostalgia TV, especially from the 1960s, is replete with unusual Holiday or Christmas themed episodes integrated into the storylines of various TV series. Some have a direct connection with the Holiday Season while others are a bit more subtle if not unusual with incorporating the Christmas spirit into the narrative. One such example is an episode titled "Long Live the King" from Irwin Allen's <u style="outline: none !important;">Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea</u> that originally aired December 21, 1964 and is now part of the ME TV Network's annual screening of various Christmas episodes from various notable television series.</b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><u style="outline: none !important;">Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea</u> was on network TV for four years (1964-68), with its first season filmed in Black & White. Season One was notably darker if not more serious in tone as its episodes largely involved spies and espionage in a Cold War setting. "Long Live the King" is remarkable not only because it was the series' only Christmas show BUT it was a warm episode in an otherwise dark season. In its four year run, <u style="outline: none !important;">Voyage</u> seldom recognized seasonal connections with the real world in its plotlines, so this makes this Christmas show all the more special. What now follows is a synopsis plus notable highlights from a truly unusual but fun Christmas show.</b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZzf9Prc6RD0zfOx79XAsri1Ews89t8h0WMQrDwwv9MbMWqc13BMmayTrig7jK0NzobMP0Jgrz-Jmr1Di8txWwOdxSK0FBE-NmGlt4dR2FgP0P7N_gGk2HAGKIDawg7JqNAsDfJzLc2VxzItV8Lemh6HYBfFRIdM2IbQDxXS-Qg74tfLBGKhgZFECWYo/s1181/Christmast_Toast_VTTBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="890" data-original-width="1181" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZzf9Prc6RD0zfOx79XAsri1Ews89t8h0WMQrDwwv9MbMWqc13BMmayTrig7jK0NzobMP0Jgrz-Jmr1Di8txWwOdxSK0FBE-NmGlt4dR2FgP0P7N_gGk2HAGKIDawg7JqNAsDfJzLc2VxzItV8Lemh6HYBfFRIdM2IbQDxXS-Qg74tfLBGKhgZFECWYo/s320/Christmast_Toast_VTTBS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div>The week before Christmas the submarine Seaview is tasked with having to secretly transport a young prince from the west coast of the USA to his homeland so that he may rightfully succeed his father as King, in the aftermath of the boy's father being assassinated. The underwater trip requires immediately crossing both the Pacific and Indian Oceans thereby cancelling the two-week Christmas shore leave for Seaview and its weary crew. Obstacles are overcome along the journey, including a torpedo attack by an enemy sub and attempted murder of the young prince by a treasonous member of his personal staff. Coincidentally, Seaview also picks up a shipwreck survivor, a very mysterious but personally endearing character named John, who establishes a trustworthy relationship with the young prince during the remainder of the trip. Carroll O'Connor plays the role of John -- giving a magical, whimsical performance in which he sings, plays a flute and teaches the young prince about assuming his adult responsibilities with kindness, understanding and wisdom. Seaview reaches its destination. With confidence but humility, the young prince is preparing to be crowned as King. After the new King is crowned, John mysteriously vanishes leaving only his flute behind as a token of remembrance for his young friend. Amidst the Yuletide Season with its mission successfully completed, Seaview is now homeward bound retracing its journey across the Indian and Pacific Oceans. During the closing dialogue that includes Christmas wishes for one and all, it is noted that John had been picked up very near ..... Christmas Island!</b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjTAiNnZD-Qk5chc4aIRBGZzCcwvpUaV7yLeqM9jMZB1iropWwj7mKbkN6Un4-fYAGVOrHgPc7vwUY5RU3WCHwt1mJwbBHfQkcIyCXMYyhm_FAwZqBj_MFL-QdcuQOaJGKfyIKm0hUeFyJIu6vYfk8sGFCXXKbFOnxZWQEhuS-C5SdUmawY7Jv4vvNuQ/s151/John_VTTBS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="151" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfjTAiNnZD-Qk5chc4aIRBGZzCcwvpUaV7yLeqM9jMZB1iropWwj7mKbkN6Un4-fYAGVOrHgPc7vwUY5RU3WCHwt1mJwbBHfQkcIyCXMYyhm_FAwZqBj_MFL-QdcuQOaJGKfyIKm0hUeFyJIu6vYfk8sGFCXXKbFOnxZWQEhuS-C5SdUmawY7Jv4vvNuQ/s1600/John_VTTBS.jpg" width="151" /></a></div><b style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div>Obviously, O'Connor's singing, flute playing and mentoring the young prince are highlights in this Christmas show. But there are also other memorable scenes: Christmas music played in the background during various parts of the show, the Chief good naturedly losing a card game to the young prince and the genuine laughter and goodwill among the officers and crew are all done with the true spirit of Christmas fellowship uniting everyone as family even though all are sojourners. This quality of warmth in a show noted for action and high adventure took <u style="outline: none !important;">Voyage</u> to a realm that was rarely seen during its network run. It is also interesting to observe that the aforementioned individual scenes may actually be better than the <i style="outline: none !important;">overall</i> storyline, with the mysterious shipwreck survivor subtly adding the Christmas spirit to what otherwise might have been a predictable plot.</b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBZmsps7fRnwsXRRy7eAfh3Gko7Rr0hl4rkkm8AcA-dbNrhEWvZ3dYyh-lqN4YrF0VNe333Gisyoqgk_2mQK42HcNgSBZiwc4P_IOg5gIrfzJ-bt9C_OLYMBpRHQlpbb3czW80Tt12sdETpNCcPWEMb3am_BneaXsDFJ6BRSMPdVzNp03u7xUegLRkj8/s341/John&King.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="341" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIBZmsps7fRnwsXRRy7eAfh3Gko7Rr0hl4rkkm8AcA-dbNrhEWvZ3dYyh-lqN4YrF0VNe333Gisyoqgk_2mQK42HcNgSBZiwc4P_IOg5gIrfzJ-bt9C_OLYMBpRHQlpbb3czW80Tt12sdETpNCcPWEMb3am_BneaXsDFJ6BRSMPdVzNp03u7xUegLRkj8/s320/John&King.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">One final bit of trivia: There really is a Christmas Island. It is located in the Indian Ocean about 224 miles south of the island of Java and 870 miles northwest of Australia. So the geography referenced in the course of Seaview's journey across the Pacific and Indian Oceans for this classic episode is accurate. Learn more at: </b></span><a href="https://www.britannica.com/place/Christmas-Island" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" style="color: #196ad4; font-size: large; outline: none !important;" target="_blank">https://www.britannica.com/place/Christmas-Island</a></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv8745276462gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">If you have any special memories of holiday themed episodes from your favorite TV shows, please post them on the GNN FACEBOOK page (and please "like" us when doing so) or send them to us via the GNN g-mail address. </b></span><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">We wish everyone in our wonderful Galaxy audience a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!</b></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-44755421961535510052023-11-29T13:56:00.000-08:002023-11-29T13:56:52.160-08:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">NOVEMBER<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2023</span></b></p><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- Good Enough Really Is Good Enough!</i> -</span></b></div></div></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">For Baby Boomers who completed their schooling and embarked on their respective career paths in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the world was vastly different. There were no mobile phones or Internet access for mass markets. Personal computers (PCs) were in the very early stages of being introduced into the workplace. No DVDs or streaming, but video cassette tapes, recorders and players were starting to emerge as "must have" consumer products. This segment of Baby Boomers were fully immersed into carving out significant corporate careers, and then following up with creating their own business enterprises or reinventing themselves several times over by starting entirely new professional and personal pursuits while building households, raising families and caring for aging loved ones. Now forty years later, we are a generation that has helped usher our parents into that "long day's journey into night," have seen children grow up and move on with their own lives while we now approach the end of our careers and our young selves are gone forever. In fulfilling this lifetime journey, much was forsaken to climb the ladder of success. But now a different reality awaits: what do we do now? It is this theme that is addressed in this special Blog and an accompanying GNN podcast.</b></span></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">This month, Galaxy Nostalgia Network features a podcast in which we interview retired attorney and award-winning businesswoman Laura Black, who has authored a clear, concise and compelling autobiography titled <u style="outline: none !important;">Climbing Down the Ladder: A Journey to a Different Kind of Happy</u>. Through the prism of Laura's life and career, we are able to come to terms with such questions as just who are we without a business card? In this hour long podcast, we are able to gain some keen insights from <u style="outline: none !important;">Climbing Down the Ladder</u> that will certainly elicit interest in wanting to learn more.</b></span></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv3886629313gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">As one who read this book and was given the honor to lead this interview, I can fully attest that Laura's story becomes your story as the reader learns that the things we leave behind or cast aside to more rapidly ascend the ladder of success are the very things one will need when stepping back or climbing down the ladder as one wraps up a career and transitioning to a new cycle in life. The absence of psycho-babble and biz-speak while offering sobering insights and life lessons makes this a must read for anyone who has spent much of their life focused on accomplishment that now faces the daunting task of charting a new path with entirely different rules of engagement. The takeaway or realization from <u style="outline: none !important;">Climbing Down the Ladder</u> that good enough really is good enough makes this a worthwhile read. </b></span><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;">Please join us for this very special podcast featuring our interview with this truly extraordinary person, </b><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;">retired attorney and award-winning businesswoman Laura Black</b><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;">.</b></div><div><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><br /></b></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPduiDRdei7hrpmJN9kbo9cz1gcJU_WMX4hGFah4YU6KwcKDKPu4jfMYrhi_czzqoY7UDpv6soigi9tLt1uhW0743glDENFyhgIc0oU3ynUZOY68R5jMhagU2OclDkbRuckv2NmgjpSBAJ_MSl2UhaiK9QudLBk1NAh8UMOixVWEuZZsdWcCfdi6yu0s/s522/Climbing%20Down%20the%20Ladder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="522" data-original-width="348" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPPduiDRdei7hrpmJN9kbo9cz1gcJU_WMX4hGFah4YU6KwcKDKPu4jfMYrhi_czzqoY7UDpv6soigi9tLt1uhW0743glDENFyhgIc0oU3ynUZOY68R5jMhagU2OclDkbRuckv2NmgjpSBAJ_MSl2UhaiK9QudLBk1NAh8UMOixVWEuZZsdWcCfdi6yu0s/s320/Climbing%20Down%20the%20Ladder.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><br /></b></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-86593393573166870952023-11-19T15:43:00.000-08:002023-11-23T20:38:28.434-08:00November 22, 1963<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aGbEaLFfHDG5Pov0q3XE9-kaeW5bVZ14vvBfo6cjyD89eJFWaq1FWMCz3p6vLY2mYb0aaDrw21H3SbFDBgFV_a4ahQlr_dAP5ExU_62WPO7I_Sk4swleGcl8g6E3NQUxpPGjZAOiwn61a1rl_yjZI-ao0Ifkpz0gFg-ynVZlSiFY3euW7rmXicIE5-k/s869/71389954_10218710324924787_3798434523570503680_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="869" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4aGbEaLFfHDG5Pov0q3XE9-kaeW5bVZ14vvBfo6cjyD89eJFWaq1FWMCz3p6vLY2mYb0aaDrw21H3SbFDBgFV_a4ahQlr_dAP5ExU_62WPO7I_Sk4swleGcl8g6E3NQUxpPGjZAOiwn61a1rl_yjZI-ao0Ifkpz0gFg-ynVZlSiFY3euW7rmXicIE5-k/s320/71389954_10218710324924787_3798434523570503680_n.jpg" width="305" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">On Friday, November 22, 1963, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas while riding in a motorcade. The country was plunged into grief and turmoil as people grappled with the reality of the tragedy and the painful loss of the nation's president. Everyone who was of reasoning age on that date remembers exactly where they were and what they were doing when they heard news of the tragedy. On this, the 60th anniversary of the untimely passing of President Kennedy, we pause to remember him, and that painful day. Margaret Sizemore Clark, Gil Tisnado, and Mike Bragg share memories of that day, and how it impacted them. <br /></span><span><i><b>Margaret Sizemore Clark<br /></b></i></span><span><i> </i><span style="font-family: times;">For those of us old enough to remember this date, it was one that would forever change our world.<br /></span></span><span><span style="font-family: times;"> I was 9 years old on this
date. I went to school just like I did
any other day…except it was not to be like any other day. We were out at recess playing kickball when
the bell rang and my teacher, Miss Kerr, came to the playground to get us. I don’t remember her being upset and I don’t
remember how she broke the news to us, but I remember the effect of that news.<br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> The previous June President
Kennedy had come to our town, China Lake, CA and the Naval Ordinance Test
Station. “The Base” as we called it, was
home to a laboratory and testing facility for the Navy and was chiefly tasked
with developing new weapons. Their most
recent accomplishment, the Sidewinder missile, was a major development, and as Commander-in-Chief,
President Kennedy decided to come to the base for a demonstration of the
missile’s capabilities. As you can
imagine, the news that the President of the United States was coming to the
base was unimaginably exciting!<br /></span><span><span style="font-family: times;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">The day of the President’s
visit his jet, Air Force One, landed on the tarmac at the Naval Air
Facility. Bleachers had been erected to
hold the dignitaries and the crowds that planned to attend. I can remember being part of the throng that
had gathered near the laboratory, where my father’s office was located. It was a sea of people, but the President got
out of his limousine and walked along the edges of the crowd shaking hands and
nodding and smiling. After he toured the
lab, he exited out the main entrance, directly in front of where my father was
standing before a replica of the Sidewinder missile. It was an incredible day.<br /></span><span><span style="font-family: times;"> On November 22 of that year,
we all heard the news that President Kennedy had been assassinated. We went home from school to watch the repeat
of the tape that recorded the fateful drive through Dealey Plaza; we witnessed
the sheer panic and confusion of the onlookers as the shots rang out. We saw
Mrs. Kennedy’s reaction to her husband’s injury, and her blood-stained suit. The network played the scene over and over and
every time it ended with Walter Cronkite’s announcement, “President Kennedy
died at 1 PM Central Standard Time”. Throughout
the afternoon we were glued to our TV set, being updated with what was
happening in Dallas. What stands out in
my mind was the arrival of the ambulance that carried the President’s body
pulling up to Air Force One. The casket
was put on a scissor-like apparatus and lifted to the cargo hold. </span><i style="font-family: times;">That</i><span style="font-family: times;"> made it real. There </span><i style="font-family: times;">was</i><span style="font-family: times;"> no mistake. Death is something kids don’t usually encounter,
but there it was in all its horrible reality, and it was </span><i style="font-family: times;">scary.</i><span style="font-family: times;"> We had just seen the President alive,
smiling, shaking some of our hands not six months ago! How could this have happened? Mom and Dad watched with us, but no one said
anything. Nothing could make the
confusion, shock, and sadness go away.<br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"> The next few days were surreal: we watched as Jack Ruby murdered Lee Harvey Oswald on live TV. We watched the funeral and then the funeral procession, hearing drums beat a solitary cadence. The Kennedy family and other dignitaries walked those long blocks to Arlington Cemetery. The horses’ hooves clip-clopped but the saddle carried no rider, just a pair of boots placed backwards </span><span style="font-family: times;">in the stirrups. No one said a word. </span><span style="font-family: times;">The world changed forever for me that day; Unfortunately, it was just the first of so many things I would have to adjust to and try to make sense of. For my generation, that single event robbed us of our innocence, and opened our eyes to the real world. It was not the safe world we had lived in just days ago. <br /></span><span style="text-align: center;"><span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-style: italic; white-space: pre-wrap;"> My father watching President Kennedy pass by.</span><i> </i></span></span></span></span><span><i><span><br /></span></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="A couple of men in suits
Description automatically generated" height="408" src="https://lh7-us.googleusercontent.com/zYqXIdiwNd6Y-Du5beA--Y5zs7quXQ3E79_yx6FmjHus9YG4uomHeXky6YnJfJn70qmVVMu7M1N8yvtABiYJ4GA1QrAeu4AWDJwuxSYJffSD8XkFuj7CFxNxy30L5HdCtHHCs-i_UMj53qxgYQBkwA=w445-h408" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px; white-space: pre-wrap;" width="445" /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span><i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br />Gil Tisnado</b></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;">Everyone from my generation remembers exactly where he or she was when John Kennedy was shot. I was attending St. Augustine School in San Diego. It was during my ninth grade English class with Father Wasco that it was announced over the loud speaker that the President was shot. We were told to report to the gym for a special Mass. During Mass, the priest indicated that Kennedy had died, and even though it was mid-morning, we were dismissed immediately. We were instructed to go home to pray for him and for our nation.</span><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: left;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="197" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsCfItcnWN_wf8LtDmhtqq1l2XVxd5oPeOekB8a8uMCe771FZzWn-zwP-G8JsjA9rCU8EHjQn3KiH0AmzYiFm_-UcPYKJ1jRFAZly8P3defD4TVKKBr_o7OKi0zBuuq97zFu6lj51nkCYcFdHs2IgPRBAybKYF_bwfhjoVrVfbNzJcyyjSAGPuUN2CVx4/s1600/Kennedy1.jpeg" width="197" /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><div><br /></div>The bus ride on bustling University
Avenue was about six miles. It was a warm fall day and all the bus windows were
open. I remember seeing adults on the sidewalks outside storefronts openly
crying. I knew it had to be really serious if the adults were crying.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="595" data-original-width="1042" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzdaOJ_dnz_kE7YTTVkmZvwFQ-G0HKVap0JzrQ-WK5r5J6Avm3Vq5ed8HYkUVXL0atq1Lo7t6ZEaNsb1rgF5g_NRlrNRX-K71vuQtbkxq5lmNUFUGB2A-d2uD0_U9-6ykXbV-jjnEos2EDl8_9RiYCxgB2zz2VZDO0aEoK2WPqdH7u_rhjRoe0RMo04T8/s320/Kennedy4.jpeg" width="320" /></span></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"><div> It just didn’t make any sense
to me. After all, JFK was just in San Diego the previous June. As thousands
cheered, he rode in an open motorcade from the airport along El Cajon Blvd. to
San Diego State to give the commencement address. Since my junior high school
was nearby, a school buddy and I walked to San Diego State, snuck in without a
ticket, and sat on the ice plant embankment in Aztec Bowl to hear our young
president speak. But that was June, and now it was November.</div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="503" data-original-width="720" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuSDjrv4OkQxHimj6rIuBHzF1t7FkeRCtXG2EIcbN2n-TfnxfoAHnivmkfaX_8oy2jEoj2mHdZp0igem3Z5EKIZJUsZxW4iCJxKI79sy5JJ5F3qVLhjVhaH76p00EP6Qbe19NfcunXJ7QlLs_9DZJEajdgfOOlWDz5fiaOqe57B5jOSGynD3sxRIFyTMM/s320/Kennedy2.jpg" width="320" /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Like many families, we were glued to the TV trying to make sense out of this tragedy. However, at some point, my mom had enough, “That’s it! No more TV. Pack some things. We’re going to Palm Springs.”</span></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="279" data-original-width="220" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipP6Cook19Tl-zG4uE9wDUHWofHuO5DAihzWAUzldYoWhCIh3U3v2I0IYU9B7UCyyXIoFnH1VspL25tCJMYMKNn4bfjwZdhC5TRhbyCvhBq2FXza0K0BUNSDzed7uBVPN1gzduxM-5s2Uiyt8aBX9wGZgQUfD03YSlW3n0NthTjNgmA3q_E_o2hmrI2Yo/s1600/Kennedy3.jpg" width="220" /></span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: x-large;"> So my mom, my stepdad and I
loaded up our car and headed off to Palm Springs. I swam alone endlessly in the
motel pool, enjoying my Palm Springs weekend. Although the escape from
real-world violence was temporary, since while driving home we heard the news
that Jack Ruby had killed JFK’s assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald. Once home, we
would return to being glued to our small black and white TV, and continue to
mourn with the rest of the nation.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span><br /><b>Mike Bragg</b><br /></span></i><span style="background-color: white;"><i> </i></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;">I was
10 years old, attending the fourth grade class at Buchanan Street Elementary School, enjoying a Friday lunch hour and playground time. The usual Los Angeles
smog had blown away from the Santa Ana “Devil Winds” the night before.<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"> Sitting
at a lunch bench, I thought about the next week’s Thanksgiving feast and yearly
family get together as my teacher, Mrs. Hegney ran out of the building and on
to the lunch yard. She clasped at a tissue when not dabbling it at her red,
tearful eyes.<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"><b>“The
president has been shocked…The president has been shocked!!!</b>" </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;">I was
confused at first, having never seen Mrs. Hegney, or for that matter, any other
adult crying..</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;">I
thought, “What does she mean, the president has been shocked…how could he
get </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"><i>SHOCKED</i></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;">?</span><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span>I
remember other classmates, leaving lunch tables, or running from the playground
to gather around Mrs. Hegney to hear what was going on. During that time, our
school principal stood at the door to the main hallway, her hands covering her
eyes as she shrieked, “</span><span style="font-family: times;"><b><i>SOMEONE SHOT PRESIDENT KENNEDY IN THE HEAD!!!</i></b></span><span style="font-family: times;">”<br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times;"> Our
teacher quickly lead our group of confused or crying 10 year olds back to our
classroom, where a school TV on a steel cart flickered in black and white
across classroom walls and window blinds…live news coverage switching back and
forth between Dallas Texas and New York.</span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: times; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2611" data-original-width="2667" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjets0Qsmz-Z5gLaT042K2P6p71m3fJCooWHkUmcJ55gDV-YuW5z39Khwn5R_1w5y-aiGBygc0lcFo5qoXIwXmhB4HmN_xlEV0zwOHB5vsDZs8oOhyphenhyphenqbLKRBW2YmbxZbqL1NT6jjQGEsSElLosH3_bXjrwqZbZl1MiNoLjPqQpHMEIMrniHLYkiULJCMVg/s320/Mike%20B.jpeg" style="background-color: transparent; text-align: center;" width="320" /><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: times;"> </span><span style="font-family: times;">For most 10-year-old fourth graders as myself, it was difficult comprehend what TV and radio broadcast was reporting. Arriving home from school a couple of hours later, my brothers and I walked in the door where my mom was closely focused on the screen of our television set, watching Walter Cronkite describe the chaos of Dallas that afternoon.</span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> Once I
felt the safety of being home from school
a few hours later, the reality that President John F. Kennedy had been
assassinated became very real to me. Sixty years later, just as vivid, were the
days following the Friday afternoon TV news bulletins and reports from across
America and the world. The movie theaters in our neighborhood were unlighted
and closed. Los Angeles Top 40 radio stations suspended regular music, and
broadcast classical music throughout the weekend.</span></span></p><p style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span><span style="font-family: times;"> On the
Sunday morning after the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, my mom
made pancakes as my dad and I watched live coverage of the transfer from jail
of Lee Harvey Oswald in Dallas, Texas. </span></span><span style="font-family: times;">With
the shock of Friday’s tragedy still blurred but nonetheless fresh, Dad and I
watched in real time as the alleged assassin of JFK was, himself, killed by a
gunman in Dallas. <br /></span><span style="font-family: times;"> As
with most American families, our Thanksgiving 1963 was a sad and solemn day.</span></span></p></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-39305967143771156212023-11-02T23:00:00.000-07:002023-11-22T09:05:37.741-08:00How Monday Night Football Transformed Pop Culture <p><b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none;"><span class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b></p><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: large; outline: none;">Baby Boomers have borne witness to the transformational impact of Monday Night Football (MNF) on Pop Culture. Believe it or not, MNF was introduced more than 50 years ago (1970) while forever altering mass market TV viewing habits and transforming Pop Culture. At a time when people spent their evenings watching variety shows, sitcoms, westerns and game shows on a small handful of network TV channels, MNF immediately altered viewer preferences with a then outsized entertainment model that not only crossed from the sports venue into Pop Culture, but created a significantly larger audience that went well beyond the traditional male sports fan who watched NFL football on Sundays.</b></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><u style="outline: none;">Here is a sample list of the long lasting impact created by MNF</u>:</b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> Monday Night Football was aired by ABC, a perennially 3rd ranked national network (behind CBS and NBC) at a time when there were just three national TV networks. With the newly merged league (the NFL and AFL were now combined under an expanded "NFL" business model) this was a great platform to showcase the expanded offerings among a larger geographic region. By the end of the 1970s, ABC became the top-rated network as its fortunes paralleled the NFL becoming the nation's number one spectator sport.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDRfRcDJcUBOt3AZfCTpEp7dPHoLiJ3g9MuSvUUE864MVpgPcZhlVrCQf64vASBQw_koiSBdS-8c1F6N0oyLiHFNfcWiEDRTmbskSQnjqYzdusNFjwrgV1N7YDmYIzWIROhpUgrPOoO1w0-YOZVIIcjDuZ3ZRBsZftTCZtWZ-7I7sgYrbIpG2LMvKfXw/s1920/cosell-meredith-gifford.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1920" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGDRfRcDJcUBOt3AZfCTpEp7dPHoLiJ3g9MuSvUUE864MVpgPcZhlVrCQf64vASBQw_koiSBdS-8c1F6N0oyLiHFNfcWiEDRTmbskSQnjqYzdusNFjwrgV1N7YDmYIzWIROhpUgrPOoO1w0-YOZVIIcjDuZ3ZRBsZftTCZtWZ-7I7sgYrbIpG2LMvKfXw/s320/cosell-meredith-gifford.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> MNF essentially created the voluble, celebrity broadcaster role that is now de rigueur in all sports broadcasting venues. Howard Cosell was selected for this job. As the third man in the broadcast booth, Cosell provided a complementary if not entertaining fit to the rather staid, traditional two-person announcing duo format. Hall of Fame football star Frank Gifford provided the standard play-by-play narration with former NFL quarterback Don Meredith in the analyst role. In short order, Cosell's bigger than life persona became equally important to the overall entertainment package. While Gifford adhered to a restrained, serious broadcasting style his analyst partner Meredith provided humorous anecdotes and even sang "the party is over" when the outcome of the game was no longer in doubt. On a more serious note, Cosell actually created a template that is followed to this day with his 3-minute summary of all the NFL highlights from the Sunday games. These halftime highlights became a huge drawing card to both the serious and casual fans alike. While MNF had various high-profile broadcast trios, the Cosell-Gifford-Meredith group is the one that is best remembered.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> With the passage of time, it became commonplace for the broadcast booth to have major TV & motion picture stars along with famous musicians visit and provide guest commentary. MNF used twice the number of cameras usually employed for broadcasting an NFL game, and use of flashier graphics plus a widely recognizable musical theme to immediately signal the television viewing audience that they were being treated to a big-time special event. Instant replay was more frequently used to diagram the action, which, in turn, created ongoing discussion and debate among the broadcast crew about what actually happened. With more camera angles versus the Sunday games shown on CBS and NBC, the ABC viewing audience was able to experience gridiron action up close and personal, with a "you are there" feeling.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO0e9WxedEH1vs2gDLp_Gu_B6CpLEP_omLOuI-tfuaDcBCX__yJOZWrxcuiPB6SdbbZp6ue4XNoqOwnBb2mjE8dBLUWXhnL5NsLoF8fTiC9MNLRSIHFryraGDUHJLkUfVo55op75to0GNHh93jXPEmqKFdJIY6EnlFCbWNN8ScPbCxVdUTnfAUeaQK8uc/s708/Howard_cosell_1975.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="708" data-original-width="556" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO0e9WxedEH1vs2gDLp_Gu_B6CpLEP_omLOuI-tfuaDcBCX__yJOZWrxcuiPB6SdbbZp6ue4XNoqOwnBb2mjE8dBLUWXhnL5NsLoF8fTiC9MNLRSIHFryraGDUHJLkUfVo55op75to0GNHh93jXPEmqKFdJIY6EnlFCbWNN8ScPbCxVdUTnfAUeaQK8uc/s320/Howard_cosell_1975.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> MNF introduced the sideline interview. Cosell interviewed quarterback Fran Tarkenton before the start of the game, and this was the first time an active player was interviewed live on the field before or during a game. This has also become a standard practice.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> MNF became the weekly topic of conversation on Tuesday mornings in schoolyards and offices across the nation. It became a must-view weekly event in which Monday nights were an occasion for working parents to try to arrive home earlier and prepare dinner beforehand while students would scramble to finish their homework ahead of kickoff. When the MNF film crew would arrive in a new destination each week, it was the impetus to have special banners, billboards and posters all over the city thereby fueling even greater excitement and anticipation.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">Are there any special memories that any of you in our GNN audience have regarding Monday Night Football? I have two favorite MNF memories. First, is when Howard Cosell interviewed Joy Piccolo (widow of Chicago Bear running back Brian Piccolo) at halftime in anticipation of ABC's Made For TV Film "Brian's Song" which paid tribute to Piccolo with emphasis on his groundbreaking friendship with teammate Gale Sayers as well as his heroic battle against cancer. The second occurred at the end of a broadcast in which the hometown team was on the losing end of a one-sided contest. While Gifford was seriously engaged with calling the on-field action, Cosell and Meredith were bantering back and forth as the camera crew zeroed in on a disgruntled fan who promptly saluted the nationwide TV audience by extending his middle finger. Without missing a beat, Meredith humorously observed that the fan was telling the ABC broadcast trio they were number one!</b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdqBwZ3MNoBVjwxiBuIoBUhWMdUwSV1vM-UEYNL4BZjswXPY6rBrPnsq4KctYm3ktZCLKgcOgNkomKqps6LIPVVgUiEu0AAG0Xmd7OTuc_ENxWJsBCifctXPZcSrKdBy4WKuou16cI4uaIrjUYO8sUNLHJQ-HUrIAU1ZcSnWFdHobZKyIJ50QGwvZ75w/s2988/meredith-cosell-gifford.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2025" data-original-width="2988" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdqBwZ3MNoBVjwxiBuIoBUhWMdUwSV1vM-UEYNL4BZjswXPY6rBrPnsq4KctYm3ktZCLKgcOgNkomKqps6LIPVVgUiEu0AAG0Xmd7OTuc_ENxWJsBCifctXPZcSrKdBy4WKuou16cI4uaIrjUYO8sUNLHJQ-HUrIAU1ZcSnWFdHobZKyIJ50QGwvZ75w/s320/meredith-cosell-gifford.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1110395225gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">In the intervening years, much of what has been described here may seem as commonplace BUT this affirms the transformational power of Monday Night Football. It not only broadened the viewing audience while creating a more enjoyable viewing experience, but it helped make sporting events into the reason for hosting private parties at home or in restaurants bringing families, friends and work-related colleagues together. This has created shared memories across various demographics and generations, something we can all appreciate. </b></span></div><div><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br /></b></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-81797145278140979252023-10-27T12:01:00.003-07:002023-10-27T12:01:29.969-07:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #33aaff;">Halloween Horror!</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative;"><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: large;">By Gil Tisnado</i></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">I could tell you I was born
on a dark and stormy Halloween night; however, being born in San Diego that
would be a lie. My mom with her Jeanne Crain/Gene Tierney brunette movie star
looks was hoping for a boy, especially after giving birth to two girls. My dad,
who looked like a Mexican John Garfield, was just excited and nervous with the
prospect of being a first time father.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">After a successful
delivery, I was cleaned and ready for inspection. The doctor and nurses,
although startled by what they saw, put on their best stoic medical profession
faces. I was brought to my mom’s side. She was thrilled and elated that her
dream of having a boy came true. She slowly removed the baby blankets to view
her boy wonder and then began to scream, “Nurse! Nurse! What’s wrong with him.”
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXtpcWV43PQeMA7mEaq6iQO4GDYpw7R7iDORvAXhovNUTB9ZHgFzOmINmyfxrk6U-8jFHMCP6ov24EOKeE00yRbVlJqfLZ5qmPUWGfV4ysEgAqOpngsUkGF0oLM0PqVUvtFNq6Z8cpG686AA1_NXrSnIMm4ak64-tVlCdYiEmRuvT74L-FuX4tVc5KiU/s640/Nurse.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXtpcWV43PQeMA7mEaq6iQO4GDYpw7R7iDORvAXhovNUTB9ZHgFzOmINmyfxrk6U-8jFHMCP6ov24EOKeE00yRbVlJqfLZ5qmPUWGfV4ysEgAqOpngsUkGF0oLM0PqVUvtFNq6Z8cpG686AA1_NXrSnIMm4ak64-tVlCdYiEmRuvT74L-FuX4tVc5KiU/s320/Nurse.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The nurse knowing full well
what was wrong said, “Calm down, Mrs. Tisnado. What is it?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">My mom pointed to me and
stuttered, “The, the…hair, the…hair!”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Fantasy just met reality or
should I say fantasy just met the ugly reality of what I looked like.
Apparently, I had so much excessive black hair everywhere, on my back, chest,
and bottom. One of nurses in the corner of the room whispered, “Gorilla Baby!”
While one of the other nurses muttered, “More like Son of Kong.” The doctor was
summoned to calm my hysterical mother.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Doctor, Doctor, will the hair ever go away”
my mom cried out. I’m sure she was wondering how much electrolysis treatments
would be for a baby, and how soon treatments could begin.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The doctor reassured my
mom. “Don’t worry Mrs. Tisnado. The hair will eventually fall away. He’s just
extraordinarily hairy.” I was then quickly covered up. My parents embraced and
comforted each other, deciding they would love me regardless of my hairy
condition.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">It was time for me to go
home and meet my golden blonde sisters; Marie age five and Ginger age four.
They were so excited to see their new baby brother until they discovered I
resembled Cheetah from the Tarzan movies. Ginger immediately ran to her bedroom
crying. Outspoken, precocious little Marie pleaded, “Mommy, can’t you take him
back to the hospital and trade him for another baby.” No, my mom told her. I
was there to stay. This handsome family with movie star looks would just have
to adjust to the hairy creature that was thrust upon them on Halloween 1949.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">To this day my sister says,
“You know from the very beginning there was something very odd about you.” Hey,
it could have been worse. At least the folks didn’t bring home “Rosemary’s
Baby.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-78977255764239360722023-10-15T09:28:00.000-07:002023-10-15T09:28:18.183-07:00 Homecoming!<p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">by Margaret Sizemore-Clark</span></i></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Back in my day, meaning when I was in my teens, Homecoming at my high school was a BIG deal. It was always celebrated in October, and alumni came from far and wide to attend…well, at least from Bakersfield where most of the local kids attended junior college.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>All sorts of special events took place during the week, culminating with THE GAME. It seemed as if the entire town was jammed into the bleachers and were ready to root The Burros on to victory. Yes, our high school’s mascot was a burro because the first commanding officer of the Navy base where I lived was named Sherman E. Burroughs.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhevAgdZ1Sso9Mwps6R3inGwWpnHlLWDj6kJFovSTipdJdP6tSZHEfonLzc8_6TmPxN86NmDJlo05334V8Ro9ZpzKJmVdEJU9aC5rrAeneGFJfbFrUlQS_PIwEDrWPc14JMTOgtfDsQfokFA3HpGpF1DBxIsFGSdKBQPzgT5uJQsp_2a7IaeximJYv9Mo/s151/Untitled%202.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="151" data-original-width="144" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhevAgdZ1Sso9Mwps6R3inGwWpnHlLWDj6kJFovSTipdJdP6tSZHEfonLzc8_6TmPxN86NmDJlo05334V8Ro9ZpzKJmVdEJU9aC5rrAeneGFJfbFrUlQS_PIwEDrWPc14JMTOgtfDsQfokFA3HpGpF1DBxIsFGSdKBQPzgT5uJQsp_2a7IaeximJYv9Mo/w347-h364/Untitled%202.jpg" width="347" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /> The days leading up to the game were bursting with activities where each class fought for bragging rights against the other classes. For example, each class was responsible for building a class float.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Floats were constructed from wood, cardboard, chicken wire, billions of napkins, and were built in someone’s back yard. Each day after school class members would work on their respective floats, shaping them into inspiring homages to the football team, and glorifying their ability to beat Friday night’s opponent. I personally spent hours stuffing paper napkins into the holes of chicken wire, so that when our creation was ready to be unveiled (and providing that the wind had not blown the napkins into the next county) it would be something that would evoke ooohs and ahhhs from the other classes. At the end of the week the floats were assembled on the football field, judged by the faculty, and the winning class announced.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span><p></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> Establishing athletic prowess was not just for the football team. Homecoming meant that the girls in each class could form teams and square off against the other classes in basketball and flag football. These teams were referred to as “Powder Puff” teams. (Definitely prior to Title IX.). Each team held practices, then would compete against each other in several games. Class pride was undoubtedly the motivation for the girls: The lowly Freshman team went up against the more-experienced Sophomores. The Juniors did the same, challenging the almighty Senior team until ultimately there were only two teams left to duke it out on the gym’s basketball court or on the football field. The games were well-attended and were just as exciting as the boys’ games.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /><span class="Apple-converted-space"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfiAxpVk48jwNYt3stjqkxPTEOSEPXk42jxdwHAO1tqJfq5UsBTP3AgA6faS0Lpx0eBGCFndZBYqHXqclBPoFHy1kEu6me5LpgTriOCYzwtnS5DswhXi2KaI2vx8RRE6mMRaz1CbQcWqNXgvuJg0S1HAiz7_gUsrSA7GaK7W7I-KrtGdx4wdRjoiQxu8/s167/Untitled%203.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="141" data-original-width="167" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfiAxpVk48jwNYt3stjqkxPTEOSEPXk42jxdwHAO1tqJfq5UsBTP3AgA6faS0Lpx0eBGCFndZBYqHXqclBPoFHy1kEu6me5LpgTriOCYzwtnS5DswhXi2KaI2vx8RRE6mMRaz1CbQcWqNXgvuJg0S1HAiz7_gUsrSA7GaK7W7I-KrtGdx4wdRjoiQxu8/w377-h318/Untitled%203.jpg" width="377" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /> Many of the girls from all the classes were members of the Pep Club. During Homecoming Week, they busied themselves making posters and signs, which appeared all over the campus.</span><span style="text-align: left;">They decorated the field on game night, adding color and pizazz to the atmosphere.They practiced hand routines that were performed from the bleachers as the band played a rousing song, should the team make an exceptional play or score a touchdown.</span></span></div><p></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtrXSQ7en07bvhC2mbcSMppVcocipvhJJqsyMiEVLGjAnZgA0D-T7C7Trzz2f4Ni5DyDxVFC66FMv9eL25BvD-nYQicZd-MGKcpx1al4Feel_QnBB4X04zHytpryhPeMxl-RvRipAUYUun3EajnmfD8yK54TqK_Qn0iB2NJ16Qznf5ITIwFkRWg5GnZ4/s166/Untitled%204.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="144" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXtrXSQ7en07bvhC2mbcSMppVcocipvhJJqsyMiEVLGjAnZgA0D-T7C7Trzz2f4Ni5DyDxVFC66FMv9eL25BvD-nYQicZd-MGKcpx1al4Feel_QnBB4X04zHytpryhPeMxl-RvRipAUYUun3EajnmfD8yK54TqK_Qn0iB2NJ16Qznf5ITIwFkRWg5GnZ4/w373-h430/Untitled%204.jpg" width="373" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial;">A favorite event involved an old car being brought from a junk yard and delivered to the hub of student life, the Quad.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The names of teachers, coaches, and administrators were painted on it, and for a nominal fee one was allowed to swing a sledge hammer and clobber the spot where the name of a “favorite“ adult was written.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Even the school security officers were not immune from having their names painted on the car, but it was all in good fun.</span></div><span><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial; font-kerning: none;"></span></span><p></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> The best day, at least for the senior class, was Senior Hard Times Day, when the seniors got to wear crazy things to school and require the underclass students to do whatever they were told. A sophomore might have to carry a senior’s books, and a junior shine his shoes. The worst was being a freshman. That year I was ordered to wear my clothing inside out. It was embarrassing, but it was a lot of fun, and no one thought of being mean.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial; font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"> </span>Other events during the week included a pie-eating contest, tricycle races, skits, and pep rallies. The football players donned cheerleader uniforms and entertained the student body with their attempts at doing a cheer or a routine.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Having fun was the goal of the entire week.</span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> The night before the big game a large crowd of students gathered at a section of the desert across from the school for the purpose of having a bonfire.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Throughout the week kids gathered wood (not always with the owner’s permission) and delivered it to the site of the bonfire.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The wood pile grew larger and higher with each day’s additions.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>With the fire department close by, a torch was lit, and the huge mountain of wood was ignited!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The cheering was deafening, the heat it generated was incredible, but the embers eventually turned to an orange glow, and it was time to sing the Alma Mater. EVERYONE sang it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was like a hymn, and if you didn’t sing, well, you just didn’t have any school spirit.<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span><span class="s1" style="font-family: arial; font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> The best part of Homecoming for me was being in the band. I loved all the extra practice we put in.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>We worked hard on a special half-time show, and the Pep Band performed at every rally. We got to ride on a flat-bed truck through the town, playing all the fight songs over and over again.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Is it any wonder that after 50 years I can still play “Anchors Aweigh” from memory?? (As another nod to our Navy roots, “Anchors Aweigh” was adopted as the fight song.) </span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhpIEQpgzjJHGZcyMPeFmtl-JWVsuAzdovR2wRK27BoulIV1blwtX3yXUFprUeVgINjh21VDcWdTbtHNN5D10ZlWkMolqLyHgXmdumc3g4CzUgW7LGTC9WHzPx99EspDhtPtWqm89Cw4zf3ZZJiE3QLgPKwPm3m8Dqe6vl_ADOuWicbLIPpR9E9p63VU/s181/Untitled%205.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="181" data-original-width="144" height="463" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjhpIEQpgzjJHGZcyMPeFmtl-JWVsuAzdovR2wRK27BoulIV1blwtX3yXUFprUeVgINjh21VDcWdTbtHNN5D10ZlWkMolqLyHgXmdumc3g4CzUgW7LGTC9WHzPx99EspDhtPtWqm89Cw4zf3ZZJiE3QLgPKwPm3m8Dqe6vl_ADOuWicbLIPpR9E9p63VU/w368-h463/Untitled%205.jpg" width="368" /></span></a></div><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /> Sometime during the week, the kids in the Senior class scaled the hill we called B Mountain, to put a fresh coat of whitewash on the rocks that formed a capital “B”.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They also had to update the previous class’s work so that on the evening of the game, when the spotlight was switched on after sunset, the resplendent “B” and <i>our</i> graduation year was highlighted for all to withhold.<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 16px;"><span style="font-family: arial;">On the night of the game the excitement was electric!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The band in their uniforms marched to a<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAWdufip2TlrY2IFUF39ZklzQkz8RTd29kv4aS98Tvkm7tL_-ATSe7Y7F6UUalTGd3p8wmFEEl2V4jhyWgPvF-fLrZHOGxJOaXpmCGuIHAVozhWFYLu5MDG-qCflid9UoebZxzamKy5iM4vN7TN5pfYmhFCz8VzcuvAS_BpWR0aWrYI7djzb3hcsW7Ek/s178/Untitled%207.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="178" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWAWdufip2TlrY2IFUF39ZklzQkz8RTd29kv4aS98Tvkm7tL_-ATSe7Y7F6UUalTGd3p8wmFEEl2V4jhyWgPvF-fLrZHOGxJOaXpmCGuIHAVozhWFYLu5MDG-qCflid9UoebZxzamKy5iM4vN7TN5pfYmhFCz8VzcuvAS_BpWR0aWrYI7djzb3hcsW7Ek/w352-h296/Untitled%207.jpg" width="352" /></span></a><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="text-align: left;">cadence from the band room to the football field.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">The Pep Club wore their uniforms, complete with white gloves, and sat in a designated section in the bleachers.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">The floats awaited the signal to circle the field.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Convertibles carrying the Homecoming Queen candidates and their escorts drove slowly in front of the bleachers while Mr. Kubik, the drama teacher, introduced each of them to the crowd. They took their seats in front of the bleachers, the team took the field, the national anthem was played, and the game began. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">After four quarters of football and all the pageantry was over, the team removed their helmets, the crowd fell silent, and the band began to play the Alma Mater. If you didn’t sing, well, you just didn’t have any</span><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"> school spirit. <br /><span style="color: #0000ee;"><i><u>https://www.facebook.com/margaret.clark.562</u></i></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family: arial;">###</span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-88413231411144852412023-10-04T12:02:00.004-07:002023-10-15T09:29:22.730-07:00 Halloween With Don Knotts<p><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none;"><span class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b></p><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; font-size: small; outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: large; outline: none;">For Baby Boomers who were avid movie goers and watched network TV during the 1960s and 1970s, Don Knotts played characters who were relatable to both adults and children. As such, his iconic portrayals created, and continue to create, lifetime memories shared by multiple generations. One of his notable motion picture roles was the character of typesetter Luther Heggs, who aspires to become a bigtime newspaper reporter in the 1966 film "The Ghost and Mr Chicken." This 90 minute comedy horror film is a wonderful way to celebrate Halloween as Luther is on a special news assignment to spend a night in a haunted house located in the fictitious town of Rachel, Kansas.</b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezVUhnHFpU9ME7XB5N5AUHKYAJCuRpTDKkGQBBpNprVyvmiubGdGudIeKsSHMJV5HUghmJ6Qmrm3youkn-_2hM4MwelEWdb6MVFEQwsI-Y6CbKh_qsu1OWJvjV-8h7dxmHxpOWS9NO4G5HasJHf2IkW6YZyoOOj0B-roaz0b2LNyLy1ChmhktBLmWL9k/s750/DonKnotts_Award.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="750" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgezVUhnHFpU9ME7XB5N5AUHKYAJCuRpTDKkGQBBpNprVyvmiubGdGudIeKsSHMJV5HUghmJ6Qmrm3youkn-_2hM4MwelEWdb6MVFEQwsI-Y6CbKh_qsu1OWJvjV-8h7dxmHxpOWS9NO4G5HasJHf2IkW6YZyoOOj0B-roaz0b2LNyLy1ChmhktBLmWL9k/s320/DonKnotts_Award.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b style="outline: none;"><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br /></b></span></div>"The Ghost and Mr Chicken" was Don Knotts' first major project after leaving <u style="outline: none;">The Andy Griffith Show</u>. After having won five Emmy Awards for his portrayal of Deputy Barney Fife, Knotts moved onto the big screen by reprising his comedic high-strung persona in a series of films under contract with Universal Studios. The box office success of "The Ghost and Mr Chicken" paved the way for a series of Knotts-fronted comedy films that continued into the 1970s and was followed by slapstick roles in several Disney films. With this 1966 comedy horror classic, the viewer is treated to watching the very same formula that worked so well as a TV program translated into an equally entertaining and ultimately satisfying motion picture. For Don Knotts and his fans, the transition from TV to motion pictures appeared seamless -- quite a trick during an era where the boundaries between the two venues were far more pronounced.</b></span></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">To affirm the ease in moving from the small to large screen, the Luther Heggs character portrayed by Knotts is shown throughout the film sporting the very same suit and style of dress he wore when not in uniform as Deputy Barney Fife on <u style="outline: none;">The Andy Griffith Show</u>. Here are a few teasers and tidbits of information that might encourage you to watch "The Ghost and Mr Chicken" if not for the first time, then for another but with a fresh set of eyes. (Spoiler Alert!)</b></span></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6sAyHsXhRYRiXOpm0izkuVn2S5wfUIq8uJ-eUZL4rx6DBHSwxFTJSceBcrsofnJzEGmds644g3JIEL3aaUc5d_zhj-Ea2BETO5rApNHAJuBTzwX1ptS9ldbublKlLNk8rKwoabI8sNOuqjW5upND2AAIZYkpw5RzCW4UF8K63_S0P2DihRR59h2i1Bs/s875/Don_Knotts__1966.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="875" data-original-width="689" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6sAyHsXhRYRiXOpm0izkuVn2S5wfUIq8uJ-eUZL4rx6DBHSwxFTJSceBcrsofnJzEGmds644g3JIEL3aaUc5d_zhj-Ea2BETO5rApNHAJuBTzwX1ptS9ldbublKlLNk8rKwoabI8sNOuqjW5upND2AAIZYkpw5RzCW4UF8K63_S0P2DihRR59h2i1Bs/s320/Don_Knotts__1966.jpg" width="252" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><span face="arial, sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: medium; outline: none;"><b style="outline: none;">> The movie was inspired by the 1963 episode "Haunted House" featured on </b></span><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;"><u style="outline: none;">The Andy Griffith Show</u>.</b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;">> There are a number of actors along with writers and production crew members who worked both on </b><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;"><u style="outline: none;">The Andy Griffith Show</u></b><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;"> and "The Ghost and Mr Chicken" thereby providing familiar faces and a comfortable feel to the pace of the film.</b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;">> Luther Heggs (like the Barney Fife character) boasts about his martial arts expertise throughout the film, and a scene where he is shown in a fighting pose is so memorable, that it was eventually placed on the lower left corner of Mr Knotts' gravesite memorial plaque.</b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;">> Unlike Barney Fife, however, Luther Heggs actually saves the day with his martial skills in the film's climax! </b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;">> Despite his high-strung personality and perennial underdog status, Luther overcomes the odds and marries his sweetheart, Alma, portrayed by Joan Staley (who was a <u style="outline: none;">Playboy</u> "Miss November" in 1958).</b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;">> Watch the closing scene of the film (Luther and Alma's marriage) very carefully as the viewer is able to see that perhaps there really is a ghost after all!</b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhya34cm9-QDs1vvO33GhsCWYIJhSchmsHF8DK6_6uOuP-fUHTCcmT4yjPiz_sEup33epGOmwdIEWd2PSdtNBesbOXdeJbrXBz-30VsE_k2vBauIsKz9v0WcDxAy0fFd_M_bNf40pwZE7m_hKxEabmLck4uGa73Q-278SrMnHPxb4Jy3nBim7H5p2XcOxs/s1020/Don_Knotts_Gravesite.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1020" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhya34cm9-QDs1vvO33GhsCWYIJhSchmsHF8DK6_6uOuP-fUHTCcmT4yjPiz_sEup33epGOmwdIEWd2PSdtNBesbOXdeJbrXBz-30VsE_k2vBauIsKz9v0WcDxAy0fFd_M_bNf40pwZE7m_hKxEabmLck4uGa73Q-278SrMnHPxb4Jy3nBim7H5p2XcOxs/s320/Don_Knotts_Gravesite.jpg" width="251" /></a></div><br /><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none;">There is much more, but hopefully you get the idea that watching "The Ghost and Mr Chicken" is a unique opportunity to see your favorite characters and actors from Black & White Classic TV make the transition into full color on the motion picture screen. As such, it is a fun, whimsical time capsule that is a great way to celebrate Halloween while paying tribute to a simpler but entertaining era in American pop culture. We wish a Happy Halloween to everyone in our Galaxy Nostalgia Network audience!</b></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="outline: none;"><br style="outline: none;" /></div></div><div class="yiv4482165897gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; font-size: large; outline: none;"><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline: none;" /></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-10368050834686430902023-09-27T13:15:00.000-07:002023-09-27T13:15:22.931-07:00<p> </p><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0b5394;">"A Movie Kind of Love" (Part Two)</span></h3><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 22px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative; text-align: left;"><i style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); color: #666666; font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: large;">By Gil Tisnado</i></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Our newest contributor to the Galaxy Nostalgia Network blog posts, Gil Tisnado, shares with us part two of his premier story.</span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">In 2014, I was driving alone
from Las Vegas to Laughlin. I opened the sunroof and enjoyed the desert heat.
The Nevada desert reminded me of the many trips that Bill, my soon-to-be
stepdad, and I used to take when we commuted regularly between Las Vegas and
San Diego in ’61. We were living in Vegas so Mom could fulfill the six-week
residency requirement for her Nevada divorce from my dad. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Our ’56 white Ford station
wagon had no air conditioning, and we were constantly wind-whipped by the hot
desert wind, but still managed to laugh and share good times. A special treat
was to always stop in Baker for homemade Strawberry pie. Once in San Diego, we
would pick up Bill’s unemployment check and then go to lunch and a movie
without any of the girls to influence our choice.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">Over forty years later, I
reflected on these times and had a desert epiphany. Driving on Highway 95 to
Laughlin, it suddenly hit me and had to pull over to the very next rest stop. I
called my mom and spoke rapidly into the phone, “Hey Mom! I think I just had an
epiphany about Bill.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">She asked, “What are you
talking about?”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">I continued, “Remember how
Bill and I used to take all those trips to San Diego from Vegas? Well, I was
just thinking about Bill so strongly. I was thinking about him dancing with
you, all the times I used to hang out with him at his work, and all the endless
conversations we had together. I realized he was more than a stepdad. He was my
pal. And Mom, I finally figured out something—that so much of who I am is
because of Bill—our irreverent sense of humor, our mutual appreciation and
respect for women, and our positive view of life. I just can’t
believe it’s taken me over forty years to realize this! And yet, if you think
about it, Bill was actually only in our lives for about ten years.”</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: times;">It started to get very hot in
that Nevada rest stop, but Mom and I continued to reminisce about Bill over the
phone. We recalled the ten years of good times, the one-liners, laughter, and
of course—the dancing. We said our goodbyes and I continued my desert trip—thinking
of his huge impact and influence on my life—and how much I still missed and
loved that man.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-31118272428329051852023-09-17T09:57:00.001-07:002023-09-17T09:58:38.906-07:00My Mom, the Typist<p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: left;"><i style="font-size: large;">By Margaret Sizemore Clark</i></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"> During World War II while my father was overseas, my mother worked at the War Department in Washington D.C. as a typist.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When the war was over my father returned, and by late 1947 my parents had two children and were living in Indianapolis, where he worked for the Navy as an electrical engineer.<span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"> In 1950 my father accepted a job at the Naval Ordinance Test Station at China Lake, CA.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>China Lake is about 150 miles north of Los Angeles in the Mojave Desert, and if it sounds odd to have a Navy base in the desert, it was. The base was started in the 40’s and was very isolated, with limited housing, few amenities, and there <i>was no lake</i>!!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But China Lake was a major player in the development of weapons for defense, and at that time the Cold War was foremost on the minds of our country’s leaders. In the early days of the 60’s Russia had success with a man-made satellite, Sputnik.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was also a very real threat from the island country of Cuba, who was backed by Russia, of launching nuclear missiles aimed at the not-too-distant United States. The scientists at China Lake were working hand-in-hand with the Navy to create the weapons and ordinance (bombs and missiles) needed to prepare the United States for any such attacks.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>They were also developing much of the hardware needed for the space race, and time was of the essence.</span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg31z3wnKSWmtqiQPrjSQ6ut1fgXjRbXydeV5Ou49IRFNOEgGV6HeBwN5yTezQ3Rk3IrebcQWEf_CRKreTcydzf-pPhLehNMZulvj4ze2z4l5yPNY2vow1txgRHcpkx1xn9nSWTjGHwYy8m9t_7GzSdS3c0ieIgIz4jcyK3Bi28XqNpk5ccu1OKVV0XcKs/s735/type.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="735" data-original-width="551" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg31z3wnKSWmtqiQPrjSQ6ut1fgXjRbXydeV5Ou49IRFNOEgGV6HeBwN5yTezQ3Rk3IrebcQWEf_CRKreTcydzf-pPhLehNMZulvj4ze2z4l5yPNY2vow1txgRHcpkx1xn9nSWTjGHwYy8m9t_7GzSdS3c0ieIgIz4jcyK3Bi28XqNpk5ccu1OKVV0XcKs/w138-h184/type.jpeg" width="138" /></a></div>It was difficult, to say the least, to convince young scientists to uproot themselves and their families and relocate to this unheard-of place.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Many of these men had gone to school on the GI Bill and were in the process of getting post graduate degrees in their given fields.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Online degree programs were not an option in the 60’s, so it took a lot of courage and risk to commit to a position at China Lake and the work being done there.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was also a golden opportunity!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Where else could one work and learn under the tutelage of recognized scientists, be part of cutting-edge technology, and have the ability to witness first-hand the results of the work and hypotheses that were being tested?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It was an opportunity many of these young men couldn’t pass up, but they would also need to work on their theses and most of them were not typists, much less statistical typists that could include formulas, mathematical equations, and scientific symbols in their papers.<p></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;">I don’t how the word got out that my mother had been a typist, but it did and somehow it was negotiated with the Navy that my mother would go to work as a statistical typist, but work from home. Unheard of at that time.</span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>One day a grey Navy truck delivered a desk to our home, along with a Dictaphone and a brand-new IBM electric typewriter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It had several metal balls covered with letters, symbols, and numbers that could be inserted into and out of the typewriter.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She set up the desk, typewriter, and the other equipment in a corner of the living room.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She may have been able to get some of the work done during the day, but what I remember is after getting the five of us kids tucked into bed (and hopefully sound asleep), she would plug the Dictaphone into her ear and begin her typing.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>She would type the pages and then send them to the author via a courier on the base.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The author would edit them, and get them back to Mom to be revised and retyped. As a result of this close association, she became friends with many of the doctoral candidates. My older sister even babysat for a few of them!</span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrh9nirUirZSJBu-CS4Thf_oPMvt6TxBM1VSR_DgjMGSQjQk9pI-6v88xTicdifYsa7Rc9K5ix8anAKPta2trNtDeze2e9_OR0b6ndtR0ba7yH3jcV0Hs0XBHcJYdgKqys20UbH7izQpcFdUMcQQNIx8ICsRSVjUS7WV-jYke-2A29cN6vdk7swnOvsxE/s509/Screen%20Shot%202023-09-17%20at%209.44.57%20AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="397" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrh9nirUirZSJBu-CS4Thf_oPMvt6TxBM1VSR_DgjMGSQjQk9pI-6v88xTicdifYsa7Rc9K5ix8anAKPta2trNtDeze2e9_OR0b6ndtR0ba7yH3jcV0Hs0XBHcJYdgKqys20UbH7izQpcFdUMcQQNIx8ICsRSVjUS7WV-jYke-2A29cN6vdk7swnOvsxE/s320/Screen%20Shot%202023-09-17%20at%209.44.57%20AM.png" width="250" /></a></div><br />Mom performed this job for a number of years but eventually went to work full time in the Research Department and then the Technical Information Department on the base. When she retired in the 70’s she was given a send-off that included a party attended by numerous colleagues, a plaque that honored her contribution to the base, and the grateful thanks of those former PhD candidates that found a statistical typist in the middle of the Mojave Desert.<p></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px;"><br /></p><p class="p5" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 8px; min-height: 16px; text-align: center;"><i><span style="animation-name: none !important; background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; transition-property: none !important; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a class="x1i10hfl xjbqb8w x6umtig x1b1mbwd xaqea5y xav7gou x9f619 x1ypdohk xt0psk2 xe8uvvx xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r xexx8yu x4uap5 x18d9i69 xkhd6sd x16tdsg8 x1hl2dhg xggy1nq x1a2a7pz xt0b8zv x1qq9wsj xo1l8bm" href="https://www.facebook.com/margaret.clark.562?__cft__[0]=AZVXYC9pZF-iS1xMckHo1XWzUkVEkeK6Q3EaT9i8VPFgtyGBvdusJvctlsxt5KMIoD5Uck8wJmWJlIcLRZjKtLy9hslMCFUAWOErHdpr9JIrQUCxehfhttkdVNklFhksnGZe67yHkvRW4MX8B0taynHLYGve_0SuCPhNz4nVk-FOZQzFLHCMZHFQ4MJCo_InZMc&__tn__=-]K-R" role="link" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; animation-name: none !important; background-color: transparent; border-color: initial; border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; cursor: pointer; display: inline; font-family: inherit; list-style: none; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; text-align: inherit; text-decoration-line: none; touch-action: manipulation; transition-property: none !important;" tabindex="0"><span class="xt0psk2" style="animation-name: none !important; display: inline; font-family: inherit; transition-property: none !important;">Margaret Sizemore Clark</span></a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: system-ui, -apple-system, "system-ui", ".SFNSText-Regular", sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;">, the newest member of the Galaxy family! Margaret joins us on this show to share details of her life growing up on a military base in the 1950s and 60s. Her recollections of that life, the fun activities of that era, family trips, growing up with her siblings, and many more memories she will share with us. Margaret joins us as a guest on our programs, and also will add to our web page.</span></i><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-62507006844566266992023-09-13T11:57:00.002-07:002023-09-13T12:16:14.157-07:00<p><span style="color: #3d85c6; font-family: verdana;"><span style="font-size: large;">We Welcome Gil Tisnado:</span></span></p><p><i>Galaxy Nostalgia Network is pleased to welcome Gil Tisnado as a regular contributor to our blog posts. Gil's wonderful stories of his life, from his childhood to his adult years have charmed readers who regularly see his stories on Facebook. His ability to engage readers within his stories makes you feel you were right there with him. As a fellow baby boomer, we can relate to many of the nostalgic anecdotes he shares with us. Here, Gil introduces himself, and tells us how he began writing about his life. He follows with the first of his stories, "A Movie Kind of Love".</i></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none;"><span style="outline: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjAiY_dPDB7rIxbaFkt7Nd-Bwvho55cZfoTYB7pIOt1lX9AIjTPriCB0CJ60VyiwDri5H0cmvd69rQrCy9BYSZU3FivEtk2grwa-L-Ce_99aDCjvHQqO8NXd6t5xsIktP8DfpZp2dr0HpodC6f54W94oXrEenYiKCxp7HAN6vcCzlNqcWPu22l5d1P0w/s824/gil@63.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="621" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRjAiY_dPDB7rIxbaFkt7Nd-Bwvho55cZfoTYB7pIOt1lX9AIjTPriCB0CJ60VyiwDri5H0cmvd69rQrCy9BYSZU3FivEtk2grwa-L-Ce_99aDCjvHQqO8NXd6t5xsIktP8DfpZp2dr0HpodC6f54W94oXrEenYiKCxp7HAN6vcCzlNqcWPu22l5d1P0w/s320/gil@63.jpeg" width="241" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I think I may have always been a writer, but just never realized it. When I was a boy, I swore that when I grew up, I would write a tell-all book about all the things I witnessed in our home and couldn’t reveal. “Don’t tell the family business” was our daily affirmation. My book would become a mega-best seller, just like <i style="outline: none;">Peyton Place</i>. But somehow that idea got pushed aside about the same time I started appearing in “Tiny Town Ranch” a weekly live TV children’s variety show in San Diego for three years. However, at thirteen, I was a show biz has-been.</span></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none;"><span style="outline: none;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmVmKXNhwGf8BtMPXjlTSSjmlDR_SfyVZRwhW_0ejf3lLrgupaAz3ZZFXQlEjfr6j8pMgd4oQyvy626fvAoxnqqaFOwISG8ZvRPqIgDAVbxgLsSdMmbPp2sLYx-IXE2i-GsnJusFmWpDzpmJZWPxzlns7wYXbI3K7rcVVgN04iH2s1MviQ6jeMeMxUXE/s992/Gil@10.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="992" data-original-width="828" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSmVmKXNhwGf8BtMPXjlTSSjmlDR_SfyVZRwhW_0ejf3lLrgupaAz3ZZFXQlEjfr6j8pMgd4oQyvy626fvAoxnqqaFOwISG8ZvRPqIgDAVbxgLsSdMmbPp2sLYx-IXE2i-GsnJusFmWpDzpmJZWPxzlns7wYXbI3K7rcVVgN04iH2s1MviQ6jeMeMxUXE/s320/Gil@10.jpeg" width="267" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: arial;">At fourteen, I fell in love with my high school sweetheart who would later become my wife. Suddenly I was a husband and teenage dad at seventeen. Miraculously, we’re still married fifty-seven years later. Unlike me, my wife kept the hundreds of letters I wrote to her in high school, which is a pretty thorough documentation of my teenage years. In my twenties, thirties, and forties, I kept extensive journals, not because I was a writer, but because I found it was a good way to help me figure out all this growing up business. </span><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none; text-align: left;"><span style="outline: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none; text-align: left;"><span style="outline: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;">For twenty years I was a graphic designer/art director, culminating in having my own design firm. Through volunteering with a non-profit organization working with homeless and at-risk children, I was inspired to change careers in midlife and became an elementary school teacher. When I retired from teaching in 2012 at age sixty-two, I began taking a memoir writing class. Suddenly I found my new passion: writing. Since that time, I’ve written about 300 vignettes and short stories. I like to say that they are 300 stories in search of a book. </span></span></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none; text-align: left;"><span style="outline: none;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span></span></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;">I love writing about my childhood, especially growing up in San Diego. Incidentally, I’m long past the need to write that </span><i style="font-family: arial; outline: none;">Peyton Place</i><span style="font-family: arial;"> type revenge book; I think age and therapy has gotten me past that need. Instead, I like to focus on the best and golden nostalgic times of my baby boomer youth. I was honored when asked to become a contributor on Galaxy Moonbeam Night Site, and I’m very much looking forward to sharing my stories with you.</span></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; margin: 0in; outline: none; text-align: left;"><br /></p><p class="yiv7923604805ydp38438e8MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; margin: 0in; outline: none; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;">“A Movie Kind of Love” (Part
One)</span></p><span style="font-family: arial;">
<p class="MsoNormal">My dad left when I was ten.
Being surrounded with two sisters and my mom, I knew the world through the lens
of very strong womanhood. For a short time, I was the “man of the house” which
meant I had to do all the crappy work. (Yeah, literally the crappy work of cleaning
up the enormous piles of poop from our large Lassie-lookalike Collie dog.)
Plus, if there was a strange noise outside, I was expected to go outside and
check it out. Being the youngest, smallest member of the family, this made
absolutely no sense to me; however, I pumped up my scrawny chest and bravely
went on reconnaissance for monsters stalking outside my sisters’ windows.
However, I was smart enough to always take my large, intimidating dog with me.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7fobx4-Jnen4S1B-OWFZqplBDpvq_7uqJQuI2Qs_w4PRDT31rAj1ISha3kTSxLmbsmE3D6FwEz5d3iCKf8DhOD6evdIJp0rgCvnl9FIpR7HRxxGvIDLVZuW3Wo0D5CknXP7920_InS7GU7DncrFZ6fXnkCvSmcFe8KYXLcE6zj9zFuicFif16oFPOh0o/s960/Photo1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="656" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7fobx4-Jnen4S1B-OWFZqplBDpvq_7uqJQuI2Qs_w4PRDT31rAj1ISha3kTSxLmbsmE3D6FwEz5d3iCKf8DhOD6evdIJp0rgCvnl9FIpR7HRxxGvIDLVZuW3Wo0D5CknXP7920_InS7GU7DncrFZ6fXnkCvSmcFe8KYXLcE6zj9zFuicFif16oFPOh0o/s320/Photo1.jpeg" width="219" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Things would change when Bill
entered our lives—first as my mom’s boyfriend, and then as her husband. I
welcomed him as my stepfather. Compared to my dad, he was a breath of fresh
air. There was no doubt in my mind, why my mom would fall in love with him and
prefer him to my dad. My dad was kind of a stick-in-the mud, who rarely smiled
or laughed. He was usually pretty cranky and a strict disciplinarian. As an
adult, I understand him better. Money was tight, and he often worked two jobs.
Since English was not his first language, I think he had a hard time with me
being such a precocious, fast-talking kid. Strange as it may sound, I think my
dad was frustrated because he couldn’t verbally keep up with me, then out of
his frustration, he used his adult power to simply shut me down.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Unlike my dad, Bill was very
sophisticated. He had been an officer in the Navy, and had lived in the
Marshall Islands in the Pacific. Bill had traveled all over the world, and had
dated singer, Patti Page. While my dad was an airplane mechanic, Bill flew
fighter jets. He was a bon vivant who shared great stories. But here’s the
biggest difference between my dad and Bill: My dad was so concerned about me
“talking back” that there wasn’t a lot of conversation between us. Bill, on the
other hand, welcomed my stories. Relished them, encouraged them, and laughed
whole-heartedly at my boyish adventures. Since he treated me like an adult, I
always tried to rise to his level of maturity and sophistication. Bill seemed
to always enjoy my company in such a relaxed way. It was such an important
lesson for me to see that adults could treat children as equals. Suddenly, I
had a positive image of manhood.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Before my dad left, I could
always sense the tension between my mom and dad, just by observing them from
the middle of the backseat of our car. Plus I can’t recall ever witnessing any
signs of affection in their relationship. When Bill came into our lives, my mom
suddenly blossomed. It was the simple things I noticed, like her putting her
hand on the nape of his neck while he drove. And suddenly there was
laughter—lots of laughter—something that was rarely heard from the adults in
our house before. And of course, there was the dancing . . .</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Being a very urbane and
cosmopolitan guy, Bill decided to teach my mom how to dance. Besides how could he
take her dancing to the Admiral Kidd Officer’s Club in Point Loma if she didn’t
know how to dance?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5IV-EQ1z_L2oybxS1LiEDheqgqX93EmNniIb0G9olFMpQMmwcdBfhlTwv7Z4qYK2wQQO88QFTLyNq53iqKqXAaCJjaNC1rApiIbSpgjS1yprPkIlEWGdiod2r5lHATscoHGZp3DPNaiqw77ph3UvqzO3U1e0uU7FqARU6lCmFEyhZMxRn6ZBUnZvyUxo/s793/Photo2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5IV-EQ1z_L2oybxS1LiEDheqgqX93EmNniIb0G9olFMpQMmwcdBfhlTwv7Z4qYK2wQQO88QFTLyNq53iqKqXAaCJjaNC1rApiIbSpgjS1yprPkIlEWGdiod2r5lHATscoHGZp3DPNaiqw77ph3UvqzO3U1e0uU7FqARU6lCmFEyhZMxRn6ZBUnZvyUxo/s320/Photo2.jpeg" width="242" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Mom, Bill, and I would move
the heavy, maple coffee table and roll up the braided area rug to transform our
living room into their own personal mini-ballroom. I would be the DJ in the
corner taking their song requests. Their favorite dance song was “Everyone is
Somebody’s Fool” by Connie Francis. My job was to pick up the arm of the Webcor
record player and replay that song from my Connie Francis album over and over.
I loved watching their bodies move in perfect harmony and rhythm. But more than
anything, it was a thing of beauty to see my mom so damn happy. It didn’t take
a genius —or an adult—to see that these two people were passionately in love. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">As a young boy curled up in
the corner with my arms around my knees, I would watch Mom and Bill dance for
hours. Outside of the movies, this was the first time I had observed what
romantic love looked like in real life. Bill was not only affectionate towards
my mom, but also warm and affectionate towards me. I guess we were both starved
for affection.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Wb5buA5F9ld0GZV0jaKBYAAjpwDje1B-PcWZUYs3kH9Do3YXovkM7aQ1OGP1hG3x72ODunNYJgm4zO0_mlRWtnuLkfm52eGuQqUns3uwxhySnQRkDITliKMmjkmJ6MR7KNMRZujdu-8i4CIsqa7dMJ14laRkmw4JL_lPdDiPUpJxtl3c1UWMejjKjjE/s410/Photo3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="287" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Wb5buA5F9ld0GZV0jaKBYAAjpwDje1B-PcWZUYs3kH9Do3YXovkM7aQ1OGP1hG3x72ODunNYJgm4zO0_mlRWtnuLkfm52eGuQqUns3uwxhySnQRkDITliKMmjkmJ6MR7KNMRZujdu-8i4CIsqa7dMJ14laRkmw4JL_lPdDiPUpJxtl3c1UWMejjKjjE/s320/Photo3.jpeg" width="224" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">Besides being charming, Bill
was a handsome man. He had classic All-American good looks. When he first moved
into our house, my neighborhood friends would say, “Your stepdad looks just
like John Wayne.” Yeah, he kind of did. Unfortunately, like many a Marlborough
Man, Bill would get throat cancer. Too much booze and endless chain-smoking
would contribute to his demise. However, to the very end, he remained upbeat
and positive about the future, never losing his sense of humor and his ability
to hit one-liners out of the ballpark! <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Bill would be the first
person I ever saw suffering through the ravages of cancer. It was a long,
brutal battle. Even in his last days at the San Diego V.A. Hospital, he never
gave up the hope of going home and returning to life with my mom, whom he
always said, “Was better looking than Marilyn Monroe.”</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4m_9aGZmQyyCgEkmUcTPhcHnb2iyGsInbCnzQryuXwZEpUfrhNxYxowZWUqZJHnr_HePLW9jxNym1reVnC-CZaLNOMTd7naD8fQBrEWbmHo5ht0KdIcZe0-QpzKPm-3PVCrUGyPlUqLfjtU0jx23MxV1vx2QGxXtNQ_-crUsHuGAIjv1Dfgw6x3dLxE/s562/Photo1%20(1).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="429" data-original-width="562" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi4m_9aGZmQyyCgEkmUcTPhcHnb2iyGsInbCnzQryuXwZEpUfrhNxYxowZWUqZJHnr_HePLW9jxNym1reVnC-CZaLNOMTd7naD8fQBrEWbmHo5ht0KdIcZe0-QpzKPm-3PVCrUGyPlUqLfjtU0jx23MxV1vx2QGxXtNQ_-crUsHuGAIjv1Dfgw6x3dLxE/s320/Photo1%20(1).jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I was twenty and Bill was
fifty-one when he died in 1970. It was a strange dichotomy to feel so young and
seeing my life ahead of me, while his life had ended. I loved him and missed
him, but I never realized his huge influence on my life until many years later.
Of course, my favorite memory will always be of Mom and Bill dancing together in
the living room of our Rolando Park home. With me sitting in the corner,
thoroughly enthralled, thinking that perhaps true love really could exist . . .
just like in the movies.<o:p></o:p></p><br /></span><p></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-90102216142266491572023-09-01T21:52:00.001-07:002023-09-01T21:52:21.952-07:00<p> <b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">SEPTEMBER<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2023</span></b></p><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- The Rise & Fall of General Electric</i> -</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div></div></div><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Few companies in history have exemplified excellence at a consistently (and often spectacularly) high level in manufacturing, marketing, innovation and ingenuity than the General Electric Company (GE). GE is a company that is woven into the tapestry of American history because of its development and mass production of inventions such as the light bulb and jet engines that have become commonplace if not taken for granted. Its inextricable connection with the American lifestyle was expressed in the longtime Disneyland attraction "The Carousel of Progress" (sponsored by GE) which chronicled the advancements throughout the 20th century that GE was able to bring to everyday life at attractive price/value points thereby creating mass markets for consumer & industrial products on a global scale. Moreover, its operational excellence translated into financial results that made the GE stock one of the very best performing investments for both individual and institutional investors over the same period. This became firmly ingrained into American consciousness in the 1950s as Bing Crosby would regularly read excerpts to his listening audience from GE's latest financial reports on his nationwide radio show during commercial breaks. Mr. Crosby extolled the virtues of GE both for its excellent products and its investment merits in a manner that made it understandable to people from all walks of life. Concurrently, the corporate spokesperson for GE during the 1950s and 1960s -- who travelled the nation to all of General Electric's facilities and was a fellow actor to Mr. Crosby -- was a future US President in training! Any idea of who I am referring to?</b></span></div><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalI5jTa2TYp9-iim4Z6riqIGz-mfS52bKe_3jvjcTJSd2zYm2uswycAzCpkVUyUokisRraFL-AZBRIC5or-Lu4WBfZcsLA9C6pgx38l7GzZbO7EQQgQsbV4GKHWU5zGpuy0i8ZJqET9qurG-6RG0AQ790GLg2SqIgsAtx1xVG6Ap3x2A4rxiDipDk4tc/s564/GE_logo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="564" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhalI5jTa2TYp9-iim4Z6riqIGz-mfS52bKe_3jvjcTJSd2zYm2uswycAzCpkVUyUokisRraFL-AZBRIC5or-Lu4WBfZcsLA9C6pgx38l7GzZbO7EQQgQsbV4GKHWU5zGpuy0i8ZJqET9qurG-6RG0AQ790GLg2SqIgsAtx1xVG6Ap3x2A4rxiDipDk4tc/s320/GE_logo.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">With the passage of time, GE became the most admired and valuable publicly traded company -- creating a reputation for leadership and financial success that helped shape business education and management practices worldwide. In sum, GE was the ultimate business conglomerate. Yet as of this writing, GE is currently in the process of splitting up into three separate companies -- focusing on aviation, healthcare and energy. This three way split comes on the heels of a major downward spiral whose origin can be traced to when GE was at the height of its prestige and influence in pioneering the doctrine of shareholder value. William Cohan, a renowned financial journalist has written a most insightful and important book titled <u style="outline: none !important;">Power Failure: The Rise and Fall of an American Icon</u> in which he deconstructs the 130-year of the company whose slogan was "to bring good things to life." As every American household in one way or another featured or incorporated GE products, such a claim was not so far-fetched. Yet Mr. Cohan demonstrates that the root cause of failure can often be traced to the very qualities and characteristics that created a foundation of success. Blind spots, hubris and avoidable mistakes are a treacherous, deadly combination for one and all.</b></span></div><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqn7CtqLiYMm88uaRxWuSBAT4x2C8kcZF4aVxUQwrUmCf_6O8FHPO1chlEaODnbZ6DFV8uFAck05hA3gHv02GMMwSM_RhmRTx7sjr9ljd1DaxgiFu0HzbbTNfPGNk3-a0h2OL7qpvWBVBXZg_rRy_Hm08fp41MXHP6zEBbL2DyaNzqpCiS8zmr5onGC0/s400/Stock_chart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOqn7CtqLiYMm88uaRxWuSBAT4x2C8kcZF4aVxUQwrUmCf_6O8FHPO1chlEaODnbZ6DFV8uFAck05hA3gHv02GMMwSM_RhmRTx7sjr9ljd1DaxgiFu0HzbbTNfPGNk3-a0h2OL7qpvWBVBXZg_rRy_Hm08fp41MXHP6zEBbL2DyaNzqpCiS8zmr5onGC0/s320/Stock_chart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">There is a voluminous amount of content in <u style="outline: none !important;">Power Failure </u>that makes it a compelling read for both a general audience as well as those versed in various disciplines of business administration. To paraphrase what I learned a long time ago from my father, the greatest or most successful companies as well as individual people, can succumb to the overconfident counterfeiter syndrome -- in which the person or persons in charge think so highly of themselves that they place their own likeness on the One Dollar Bill instead of the likeness of George Washington! Mr. Cohan's <u style="outline: none !important;">Power Failure</u> is a well written cautionary tale on the perils of unbridled ambition and the importance of integrity. Check it out!</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUyyeYQO1SEKffrm9ClbU0sQdYuOeuQPmF4d4JxiWGJn8glkxzGpGvpH84meu20KZpOClpGRprQ_ct8AtcNEv9IfhwHNAh6b6lGr-IqAjUHp9iiiFE8v7AF_HWV5QxvTM5OnJkzWCKfeLA2t0rRm_0y1rHPM4cpADsBNdUpnkfNGKonlLxmRzV688fW4/s1000/Book_cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="662" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfUyyeYQO1SEKffrm9ClbU0sQdYuOeuQPmF4d4JxiWGJn8glkxzGpGvpH84meu20KZpOClpGRprQ_ct8AtcNEv9IfhwHNAh6b6lGr-IqAjUHp9iiiFE8v7AF_HWV5QxvTM5OnJkzWCKfeLA2t0rRm_0y1rHPM4cpADsBNdUpnkfNGKonlLxmRzV688fW4/s320/Book_cover.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><br /><div class="yiv3809121066gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><br style="background-color: white; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; outline: none !important;" /></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-1135597482228464432023-08-25T10:24:00.000-07:002023-08-25T10:24:52.124-07:00We Welcome Margaret Sizemore Clark:<p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Thanks for checking out my blog post! </span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;">I was born in Ridgecrest, CA in 1954, and am the middle of six children. My parents worked for the Navy as civil servants, having arrived at China Lake in 1950, and all six of us graduated from the same high school.</span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik4eE6O2F0dzD4hVmBXCtUQETM9_jU9tLuWVG0QHHeKFhRiilJtb0itKPErIAEoRznfaqNlI8DP28a4oNxshjLzbWsLGpOwFb-bXC14HA-nJlpiumdus3EVsYgSyg_ucWQMw_OeF34FWhF0YyDMM1KvuBCWhCBmuNACW_Y9pHFGM9T48kqU5U21cyRWXY" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="388" data-original-width="387" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEik4eE6O2F0dzD4hVmBXCtUQETM9_jU9tLuWVG0QHHeKFhRiilJtb0itKPErIAEoRznfaqNlI8DP28a4oNxshjLzbWsLGpOwFb-bXC14HA-nJlpiumdus3EVsYgSyg_ucWQMw_OeF34FWhF0YyDMM1KvuBCWhCBmuNACW_Y9pHFGM9T48kqU5U21cyRWXY" width="239" /></a></span></i></div><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> I attended grade school on the base until second grade when we moved out to the town of Ridgecrest. I went to junior high and high school there, graduating in 1972, then went to West Hills Junior College in Coalinga, CA where I met my future husband. After receiving my AA degree, I transferred to Cal State Bakersfield for a year, then transferred again to Cal State University, Fresno where I earned a BA in History and a teaching credential.</span></i><p></p><p><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> We had three children and after they were established in school, I went back to college in 1998 to earn my multiple subject credential. I taught Kindergarten, First, and Second grades for 16 years, then retired in 2014. I became a substitute teacher and when my husband retired, we moved to Washington State where we enjoy traveling and spending time with two of our five grandchildren.</span></i></p><p class="p1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Writing…and Receiving a Letter</b></span></span></p><p class="p2" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Something that has sadly gone by the wayside with the advent of electronic mail and the cell phone is the hand-written, newsy letter. It might have been that letter from home that would catch one up with all the happenings.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Or it may be a letter from that one far away who is filling you in on all the events and happenings in their part of the world.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Was there a pen pal in your past?<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I can remember having a pen pal who lived in Ireland.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I looked forward to her letters and the stamp on the envelope that didn’t look like the stamps we had here in the US.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>What a thrill to go to the mailbox and find something addressed just to me! <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> After graduating high school, I went away to a junior college that was four hours from where my family lived.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I did not have the luxury of having a car like many of the other kids had, so being able to go home on a weekend was not an option.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And, like lots of other teenagers who leave home, homesickness was becoming a very real thing as the weeks passed without seeing my family. In those days long distance had a cost to it, the call had to be made during certain hours, and it had to be initiated from a payphone since cell phones were non-existent and even having your own rotary-dial phone in your dorm room was unheard of. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Now, I must come clean on the reason for starting to write letters: I had a boyfriend “back home”. Ah yes, the angst of being away from him was the real motivation for writing long, newsy letters.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>And since I’m being forthright, there were some letters with mushy stuff but nothing torrid or gushy, like love letters were portrayed in the movies. My letters were short to begin with and included details about my new roommate in the dorm, the classes I was taking, new people I had met, and other general topics.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>He in turn wrote about the people in our town, his job, his family, and his beloved car that he was working on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As my letters became a little longer, I started embellishing them with little drawings and stickers which I added to the pages inside the envelope and to the outside as well.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This was when my addiction to paper began; If I had the means I should have invested in Hallmark because this was the beginning of a lifelong pattern that still hasn’t ended!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I started looking for cute stationery with pictures on the pages, or tablets that featured several different colored papers and had matching envelopes (that were sold separately.) I dropped into the local Hallmark store about once a week to see what was new, and I purchased so many stickers that I had to start keeping them together them in a box so that I wouldn’t forget what I had available to me. There were also the cute little enclosures that I could slip into the envelope along with my letter. The possibilities were endless!</span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Like a lot of long-distance relationships, my boyfriend and I eventually stopped writing to each other, but that didn’t end my letter-writing!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I had made good friends at college so when the summer came and everyone went home, letters started going back and forth.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Every day I would watch for our mail lady to come down the dirt road, stop at our mailbox, then move on.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I would run to the mailbox (partly out of anticipation of a letter from a friend, but mostly because we lived in the desert and the sand was HOT on my feet.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Shoes were for school!)<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The box was yanked open and the mail pulled out.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>There was a quick return run to the house where the mail was gone through and I would scan it for familiar handwriting.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>If I happened to receive a letter that day, I would savor its contents in the privacy of my bedroom and take in all the details coming from the writer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Then I would get out my boxes of stationery and would immediately compose a response so that it could be mailed the next day.</span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Many years later a special friend from college with whom I had kept in contact related to me how she had always looked forward to my letters and the envelopes in which they had arrived.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The part she remembered even more clearly were the pages inside that shared our lives after we left school.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The letters gave way to phone calls, and even those became fewer as we became “busy” with children and careers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>This year I lost that friend to cancer but I have several of her cards and letters she sent over the years, so I still have a part of her with me. <span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Today communication is so easy!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Pick up the phone and call any time of the day.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Send a text (with a picture to boot) whenever you feel like it.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>Write an email and receive an immediate response…or not.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>But there are still those times when I feel like writing a good, old-fashioned, hand-written letter complete with illustrations and stickers.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It’s like finding an old friend that’s just been waiting for me to take the time to sit down and let the words flow.</span></span></p><p class="p4" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 19px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"></span><br /></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span class="s1" style="font-kerning: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Give letter-writing a try sometime!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>It can be therapeutic and it reminds the recipient you were thinking of them in a special way.</span></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"> </p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Margaret<br /></i></span></p><p class="p3" style="-webkit-text-stroke-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-family: "Trebuchet MS"; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>@MargaretSizemoreClark</i></span></p><p><br /></p>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-28030229253147377302023-08-01T20:50:00.002-07:002023-08-01T20:50:19.130-07:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">AUGUST<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2023</span></b></p><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- Around the World With Ivan Tors</i> -</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div></div></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">The dog days of August is an opportunity to take a trip to far away places in another time through the magic of the classic TV programs and films of Ivan Tors. Today's television viewers are immediately able to identify and connect the names of well known producers, screenwriters and/or directors with a specific genre, especially since the 1980s. Two such examples are Donald Bellisario ("Magnum P.I.," "Quantum Leap," "JAG" and "NCIS") and Dick Wolf (the "Law and Order" franchise). However, long before Messrs Bellisario and Wolf became household names, viewers of both classic film and television flocked to theaters or gathered in their living rooms to watch the programs of Ivan Tors, who is inextricably connected with emphasizing non-violent but exciting science fiction, underwater adventures and stories involving animals. A partial list of classic Ivan Tors TV shows reads like a roll of honor for fun family fare: "Sea Hunt" (1958-1961) starring Lloyd Bridges, "Flipper" (1964-1967), "Gentle Ben" (1967-1969), "Cowboy in Africa" (1967-1968) featuring Chuck Connors and "Daktari" (1966-1969).</b></span></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_uF3wuZ4cYeV4rn23s2YjJxG3GDWC3n1CK1zhyjQydJ1_aubsL0EWLYz6Az4tREWoGCYn0MhTMnu2lrGLuJcjUuHkzdlA1hXBsLibwOLLpgp2S3FJLtAqzkb4nkqLRDjFyc1Rj3tHgxDofNzp_o_gLHK_RmUz9LEDJ3hBig9R3A2HOGcmZ5Oecls-4g/s875/Ivan_Tors_1960.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="875" data-original-width="675" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_uF3wuZ4cYeV4rn23s2YjJxG3GDWC3n1CK1zhyjQydJ1_aubsL0EWLYz6Az4tREWoGCYn0MhTMnu2lrGLuJcjUuHkzdlA1hXBsLibwOLLpgp2S3FJLtAqzkb4nkqLRDjFyc1Rj3tHgxDofNzp_o_gLHK_RmUz9LEDJ3hBig9R3A2HOGcmZ5Oecls-4g/s320/Ivan_Tors_1960.jpg" width="247" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">"Sea Hunt" helped popularize the sport of scuba diving while the animal themed "Flipper" (dolphins) and "Gentle Ben" (bears) helped raise awareness about the innate intelligence in the animal kingdom. "Daktari" and "Cowboy in Africa" were both set in Africa while providing a fusion of exotic animals, adventure and the importance of preservation of rare species. The popularity of these TV shows arose from their big screen success as Mr Tors would typically make a film first, and then develop a show from that film. This double-play combination of big screen films that translated into successful TV series proved to be a financial bonanza. A partial list of these films makes the connection with their corresponding TV series self evident: "Flipper" (1963), "Flipper's New Adventure" (1964), "Clarence, the Cross-Eyed Lion" (1965), "Gentle Giant" (1967) and "Africa Texas Style" (1967). The combined success on both the big and small screens helped create unforgettable animal characters -- Flipper the Dolphin, Ben the American Black Bear, Clarence the Lion and Judy the Chimpanzee -- that are indelibly framed in the memories of Baby Boomers who were avid movie goers while coming of age watching the classic TV shows of the 1960s. </b></span></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__bLcHGgLf0XEt6U-8nBBbTojOtgzzOe0mOpo65WMh5Bm5cZ0-1N6fhgRC853kn13fSBGv8e6tn3srOkCgSSj61WkqcTq1n36N1JVLGw7ZC_Wk9EO-1n2usDVPKeHWPGKc1GvY_LMHX5o3xNdRfNn6y9Ta_vmGaseNqN0iEWWcTaVd1eWnL33JLBBKlg/s471/Daktari_Clarence_Judy_1967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="355" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__bLcHGgLf0XEt6U-8nBBbTojOtgzzOe0mOpo65WMh5Bm5cZ0-1N6fhgRC853kn13fSBGv8e6tn3srOkCgSSj61WkqcTq1n36N1JVLGw7ZC_Wk9EO-1n2usDVPKeHWPGKc1GvY_LMHX5o3xNdRfNn6y9Ta_vmGaseNqN0iEWWcTaVd1eWnL33JLBBKlg/s320/Daktari_Clarence_Judy_1967.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Mr Tors created programs that were popular with both adults and children. Indeed, they were excellent shows that were watched by the entire family, especially during prime time. Moreover, the big screen films were events that parents could enjoy with their children as there was just the right balance between serious but non-violent themes. Since most of the stories involved animals, this made them all the more endearing. Mr Tors not only had a keen sense of delivering high quality content that was entertaining for all ages, but he was a successful entrepreneur. He developed a sustainable business model based on syndication of his different programs when there were limited spots on the major TV networks. This has now become more commonplace, especially with the availability of streaming. But to be able to reach mass market audiences worldwide without the major networks in the 1960s exemplifies true ingenuity. The life of Ivan Tors (1916-1983) is a true American success story, and we would commend our Galaxy Nostalgia Network audience to learn more about this amazing person whose contributions span multiple generations. Please share your thoughts about your favorite Ivan Tors film or TV show by posting to the GNN FACEBOOK page (and "liking" us when doing so) or write to us directly at: </b></span><a href="mailto:Galaxymoonbeamnightsite@gmail.com" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" style="color: #2288bb; font-family: Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; outline: none !important; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank" ymailto="mailto:Galaxymoonbeamnightsite@gmail.com"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;">GalaxyMoonbeamNightSite@gmail.com</span></a></div><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWY4TeW-izfcGzskytJ9btqIV_XhOJakKcZNjBOixOK66h2nk80swLQRe541d6n_KFmp2Zy87IxmDOyitrHKPgHbC7maMsFDGXdDbR7IqLO_cU2KSvYWvzHt28Ozall3RJ14kZFSKRVedzvBd41M2pAUqbJlfOs-B3kBJQ98TYjq4BMfr1q8UEhQNURM/s629/Chuck_Connors_Cowboy_in_Africa_1967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="629" data-original-width="561" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcWY4TeW-izfcGzskytJ9btqIV_XhOJakKcZNjBOixOK66h2nk80swLQRe541d6n_KFmp2Zy87IxmDOyitrHKPgHbC7maMsFDGXdDbR7IqLO_cU2KSvYWvzHt28Ozall3RJ14kZFSKRVedzvBd41M2pAUqbJlfOs-B3kBJQ98TYjq4BMfr1q8UEhQNURM/s320/Chuck_Connors_Cowboy_in_Africa_1967.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><br /><div class="yiv6382686035gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><br /></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-88222083137746377362023-06-29T15:22:00.000-07:002023-06-29T15:22:03.684-07:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">JULY<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2023</span></b></p><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="color: #222222; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- A Galaxy Summer Under the Stars</i> -</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div></div></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">This month's blog entry is an opportunity for you, our wonderful Galaxy Nostalgia Network audience, to help write the script for "A Galaxy Summer Under the Stars." Over the past 20 to 25 years, it has become a summer tradition in either private or public venues to binge watch classic films (in both outdoor and indoor venues) with either a unifying theme or dedicated to a particular film star. What are some of your favorite films or motion picture stars who delivered memorable screen performances but perhaps with the passage of time are overlooked or underappreciated by mass market audiences? Summertime is the season in which we can share and enjoy cinematic gems, so we invite you to please share your recommendations either by </b></span><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">posting to the GNN FACEBOOK page (and "liking" us when doing so) or writing directly to us at: </b></span><a href="mailto:Galaxymoonbeamnightsite@gmail.com" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" style="color: #2288bb; font-family: Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank" ymailto="mailto:Galaxymoonbeamnightsite@gmail.com"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;">GalaxyMoonbeamNightSite@gmail.com</span></a></div></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; outline: none !important;">To get us started, I will offer up a combination theme of unique Academy Award Winners while celebrating the 50th anniversary of 1973 in Film. In last month's GNN Blog, we marked the 50th anniversary of Bruce Lee's unexpected passing that occurred just weeks before the summer release of his signature film "Enter the Dragon" (regarded as one of the greatest martial arts films of all time). A Galaxy Summer Under the Stars would certainly be a fitting venue to binge watch various Bruce Lee martial arts films. As a continuation of this celebration of great media stars, I would offer two unique 1973 films -- both featuring very special Academy Award winners in supporting roles -- that encompass the spectrum of the oldest and youngest winners by an actor and actress.</b></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BgmmOtvAKYTrh6zpOKrfdsaQb_h2bT7cP3Yljbtpo38qjsBWKxp9bc1vl2lpsBq0gp6Uyrl7bGMyRHf9f4OiWiisViU95ndH0ZZvBwWnWz6vYtXwkpVvTfW2RQiZn34YejHgsomiRTHVCIG0Otj4OdsSQRVSWNduwwOy2XGE0eC1udl6hmoQA-8b3RA/s631/440px-John-Houseman-1973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0BgmmOtvAKYTrh6zpOKrfdsaQb_h2bT7cP3Yljbtpo38qjsBWKxp9bc1vl2lpsBq0gp6Uyrl7bGMyRHf9f4OiWiisViU95ndH0ZZvBwWnWz6vYtXwkpVvTfW2RQiZn34YejHgsomiRTHVCIG0Otj4OdsSQRVSWNduwwOy2XGE0eC1udl6hmoQA-8b3RA/s320/440px-John-Houseman-1973.jpg" width="223" /></a></div><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; outline: none !important;">We begin on the "older" side of the spectrum by saluting John Houseman (1902-1988), who won the Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor for his portrayal of Professor Charles Kingsfield in the 1973 film "The Paper Chase." Houseman's portrayal of a Harvard Law School professor and his impact upon his students was so convincing, that he reprised the role in the TV variant of "The Paper Chase" that aired during 1978-1979 and 1983-1986. His was a more intimidating and formidable version of what is often referred to as a "Mr Chips" teacher persona. Houseman's award winning performance truly exemplified that a supporting actor is the pedestal upon which the lead actors are able to shine forth. This is consistent with his earlier behind-the-scenes collaborative work with actor/director Orson Welles (The Mercury Theater, "Citizen Kane") and writer Raymond Chandler in "The Blue Dahlia." At age 71, rather than retiring to a quiet life, Houseman literally became a legendary film and TV star front-and-center to new generations of fans after having made his reputation as a skillful behind the scenes professional. Whether on screen or off, he provided the foundation for memorable film and TV performances for multiple generations.</b></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB21ucwWHbnCdt5IeqaT9k6FyW4g5syv37pk3jnXZ__2sbK5qcIva5FZulRSTJiFRp3O8lFqnK1Ehq32gd-Z_ZDNbODT02b9XkXyWC_Mg14zKYbsgo4phSTvX9Q0kLlxEHStwQx1zcX-JAAZ7g7UUKCtKUFU7zdG4UM2Be4YL_M4ltA_ETaaz6qZuwDg/s382/Tatum_O'Neal_Oscar_1974_(cropped).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="272" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIB21ucwWHbnCdt5IeqaT9k6FyW4g5syv37pk3jnXZ__2sbK5qcIva5FZulRSTJiFRp3O8lFqnK1Ehq32gd-Z_ZDNbODT02b9XkXyWC_Mg14zKYbsgo4phSTvX9Q0kLlxEHStwQx1zcX-JAAZ7g7UUKCtKUFU7zdG4UM2Be4YL_M4ltA_ETaaz6qZuwDg/s320/Tatum_O'Neal_Oscar_1974_(cropped).jpg" width="228" /></a></div><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; outline: none !important;">Our Galaxy Summer Under the Stars would not be complete without a salute to Tatum O'Neal (born 1963), who in the same year (1973) at age 10 became the youngest person to win a competitive Academy Award for her portrayal of Addie Loggins, a child con artist in "Paper Moon" opposite her father, Ryan O'Neal. Fifty years later, Tatum's memorable performance is differentiated by the dynamic of working with her real-life father in a film that was shot in Black & White to give it a vintage look. The spontaneity of this pairing continues to resonate especially as it vividly reflects the Midwest during the Great Depression Era. The real life tribulations later experienced by Ms O'Neal (e.g., divorce, narcotics addiction, arrest) make her Academy Award winning performance all the more poignant by providing a striking contrast between cinema and real life.</b></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></div><div class="yiv5148131579gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; outline: none !important;">The 1973 John Houseman / Tatum O'Neal Academy Award winning duo spanning opposite ends of the age spectrum is a reminder of the magic of Hollywood. It is this magic that is celebrated in Our Galaxy Summer Under the Stars. What films, actors and actresses bring magic to your heart? We look forward to receiving your special memories as we gather together with a box of popcorn to celebrate our favorite screen stars!</b></div><div><b style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; outline: none !important;"><br /></b></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-33097078403656816712023-05-31T19:20:00.000-07:002023-05-31T19:20:00.291-07:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large; outline: none !important;">JUNE<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2023</b></p><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">BRUCE LEE </b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: xx-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- "Be Water, My Friend"</i> -</b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div></div></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Bruce Lee (1940-1973) was a transcendent martial artist and one of the most enduring pop icons from the 20th century. As an actor, director and teacher, Lee's magnetic, graceful and lethal presence in film & television plus his philosophy helped to popularize martial arts worldwide during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Half a century after his unexpected passing, Lee's influence continues to shine forth spanning across all demographics and cultures. In honor of his pioneering work and continuing influence, <u style="outline: none !important;">Time</u> magazine named Bruce Lee one of the most important people of the 20th century.</b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNcXAWbVH66m7NwUqNh6eEb5n2otbiAa8NYlgD-L7EZ3HUz2HWxZrRJ9uXeXpG_U1LGiVLuWtkc4Y_ysP9NSwSriy_mbBbOqxe5QXZvo6JGetVxXoUB_xgGf1aZHpyPjftNmWrkHkIF4CJeyqCgEqK7Pp4ZVa8XIzxlZQ2dXPMndY4r6QvGq0-wS0/s689/Bruce_Lee_1973.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="689" data-original-width="516" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfNcXAWbVH66m7NwUqNh6eEb5n2otbiAa8NYlgD-L7EZ3HUz2HWxZrRJ9uXeXpG_U1LGiVLuWtkc4Y_ysP9NSwSriy_mbBbOqxe5QXZvo6JGetVxXoUB_xgGf1aZHpyPjftNmWrkHkIF4CJeyqCgEqK7Pp4ZVa8XIzxlZQ2dXPMndY4r6QvGq0-wS0/s320/Bruce_Lee_1973.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Most baby boomers were first introduced to Bruce Lee when he co-starred as Kato in ABC's <u style="outline: none !important;">The Green Hornet</u> (with Van Williams in the title role) during its 1966-67 single season run. It was during this time that Lee demonstrated the strength of character that enabled him to become a pioneer in film & television, as well as in martial arts. Eschewing the show director's instructions to fight in American style with fists and punches, Lee insisted on fighting in the style of his expertise. Lee was so fast that he had to slow down his movements so they could be captured on film for the viewing audience!</b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9XkMTVhQR-aMV0igtg3hKXRFJN9WBj8Xu39vSg3By_jYBek7I_7iRL8yJaFWfCmgKdOX9IF7lriHGQpGHE52qVTlWDn3coSKdE7gFP8PGWmXEX5MroQYBnHjdQDROk9YfLR1rqcSJgcLwzLRjDSptuVB2cK3Y8xMw3kP5hsQ6KtfefNuU80_RkWP/s632/Van_Williams_Bruce_Lee_Green_Hornet_1966.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="537" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO9XkMTVhQR-aMV0igtg3hKXRFJN9WBj8Xu39vSg3By_jYBek7I_7iRL8yJaFWfCmgKdOX9IF7lriHGQpGHE52qVTlWDn3coSKdE7gFP8PGWmXEX5MroQYBnHjdQDROk9YfLR1rqcSJgcLwzLRjDSptuVB2cK3Y8xMw3kP5hsQ6KtfefNuU80_RkWP/s320/Van_Williams_Bruce_Lee_Green_Hornet_1966.jpg" width="272" /></a></div><b style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div>When <u style="outline: none !important;">The Green Hornet</u> was cancelled after one season in 1967, Lee found himself out of work. So he focused on creating, developing and refining his Jeet Kune Do martial arts style that emphasized flexibility, practicality, efficiency and speed. Lee remained in Hollywood where he became a private teacher to legendary film, television and sports stars that included but was not limited to James Coburn, Steve McQueen, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Sharon Tate. As a teacher of martial arts to the stars, Lee was able to refine his skills in martial arts, acting and eventually directing, while he concurrently upgraded his professional network. His entrepreneurial instincts and willingness to take risks in the venue of international cinema enabled Lee to break through a variety of barriers and become an enormous success on the big screen culminating with the 1973 film <u style="outline: none !important;">Enter the Dragon</u>, that forever established him as a martial arts legend.</b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Bruce Lee's philosophy that enabled him to become a transcendent, lasting influence is expressed in his exhortation "Be Water, My Friend."</b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">"Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless like water. You put water in the cup: it becomes the cup. You put it into the teapot; it becomes the teapot. You put water into the bottle; it becomes the bottle. Now water can flow, or it can crash! Be water, my friend." [Source: <a href="http://brucelee.com/" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" style="color: #196ad4; outline: none !important;" target="_blank">brucelee.com</a>]</b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ui8oFwwRJge5XNp4s-Vte35gkAIhKSOKaFtWnNrg4yBdnlo7Ss_7yYVpGCfLeRtBReLsPPNKjTY76ZMJ9Jl_7Ehd-YhWrTqKdG_-HJCA14qR4s-fwQUOxj6opKoiwUdCFJ485milaih8OOEBRu1vMtld1qhfXc02tmcLaoNMMf6fp7UbLvBzd0Ql/s960/Bruce_Lee_Walk_of_fame.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="850" data-original-width="960" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Ui8oFwwRJge5XNp4s-Vte35gkAIhKSOKaFtWnNrg4yBdnlo7Ss_7yYVpGCfLeRtBReLsPPNKjTY76ZMJ9Jl_7Ehd-YhWrTqKdG_-HJCA14qR4s-fwQUOxj6opKoiwUdCFJ485milaih8OOEBRu1vMtld1qhfXc02tmcLaoNMMf6fp7UbLvBzd0Ql/s320/Bruce_Lee_Walk_of_fame.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Lee's star power is not only exemplified by having his "star" immortalized on both the Hollywood Walk of Fame and Hong Kong's Avenue of Stars, but his gravesite in Seattle's Lakeview Cemetery remains one of the most frequently visited tourist sites in the Emerald City. As tip of the hat to being a teacher (sensei) to the stars, legendary action-film actors James Coburn and Steve McQueen served as pallbearers for Lee's burial service in Seattle. At the conclusion of the memorial service, Coburn and McQueen tossed their white gloves into the grave with Lee's casket while paying tribute to their sensei.</b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv2444210652gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">This summer as we mark the 50th anniversary of Bruce Lee's passing, please share your favorite memories of this legendary figure by posting to the GNN FACEBOOK page (and "liking" us when doing so) or writing directly to us at: </b></span><a href="mailto:Galaxymoonbeamnightsite@gmail.com" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" style="color: #2288bb; font-family: Trebuchet, Verdana, sans-serif; outline: none !important; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank" ymailto="mailto:Galaxymoonbeamnightsite@gmail.com"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;">GalaxyMoonbeamNightSite@gmail.com</span></a></div><div><br /></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-37820864503873404372023-05-01T07:35:00.003-07:002023-05-01T07:35:54.181-07:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large; outline: none !important;">MAY<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2023</b></p><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">"The Sting" </b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="color: #222222; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: xx-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">- Celebrating its 50th Anniversary</i> -</b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div></div></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">This year marks the 50th anniversary of the Academy Award winning motion picture "The Sting," which forever solidified Paul Newman and Robert Redford as one of cinema's greatest duos. At the time of its release and later at the Academy Awards (where it won seven Oscars, including Best Picture) it was immediately celebrated as pure fun and escapism at its cinematic best. For a war weary nation embroiled in political scandal (i.e., The Vietnam War and Watergate) it offered a two-hour escape into the 1930s where two professional con artists (Newman and Redford) orchestrated a complex, elaborate scheme to swindle a mob boss (played by Robert Shaw). "The Sting" is unusual in that every time one watches the film, there are nuances and details that emerge with each viewing that deepens the appreciation for the obvious loving care that went into crafting this work of pure entertainment. What makes the film so satisfying with each viewing, is that the triple-twist ending makes one realize that it is the audience, along with the mob boss, who have been conned into a multi-layered, deceptive plot. The finale leaves filmgoers surprised but satisfied to have witnessed such a delightful story play out into a conclusion that sparked conversation questioning what just happened!</b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbXMGro-re8kLFhhRmm1LsuP43LQKRzHJRyXy0vdqmCNk6QajPk1aAbe7lDO2XwmG_usO6kQ0O3NW_if5geQZhZ9Ij-fj2gGnQUgAR45WAp943SDWxRHwPAqSnq1-pAueLMhrFFfqNnUe60EpLdBVVoJPoPkeCz_q_et627FgaiazclAq-3XrX039/s1550/STING-1973_alt_poster).jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1550" data-original-width="1024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqbXMGro-re8kLFhhRmm1LsuP43LQKRzHJRyXy0vdqmCNk6QajPk1aAbe7lDO2XwmG_usO6kQ0O3NW_if5geQZhZ9Ij-fj2gGnQUgAR45WAp943SDWxRHwPAqSnq1-pAueLMhrFFfqNnUe60EpLdBVVoJPoPkeCz_q_et627FgaiazclAq-3XrX039/s320/STING-1973_alt_poster).jpeg" width="211" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">If you are looking for a film that has a magical ending executed with style and daring, then "The Sting" is one you might want to add to your watch list. With Newman, Redford plus Robert Shaw -- all at their best in playing the roguish lead characters -- is a stellar supporting cast that reads like a Who's Who of Hollywood (e.g., Charles Durning, Eileen Brennan, Ray Walston, Harold Gould). The film is presented in discrete or distinct sections with title cards that bear strong resemblance to the lettering and illustrations associated with <u style="outline: none !important;">The Saturday Evening Post</u>. The memorable soundtrack is Ragtime music featuring Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer." Here are a few fun, but little known facts about "The Sting" that may engender further whimsical conversation among classic film fans.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0thqccXgywTHGTYzjyVHrSQvve-vG2nN-C8in1x16MJCwwwMrv8Othn7hnyCLV-fSuycqmAbPqt7XqngjB54LYM3DObix58SVUb157KePo7f7A43r4arqDLau16U69ZcB5UKHSJkOL7m_-XqUJ4GjK26Q9w-LuYajDCCvJCQuleARioq9-iQR3MK/s480/Paul_Newman_-_photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="381" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL0thqccXgywTHGTYzjyVHrSQvve-vG2nN-C8in1x16MJCwwwMrv8Othn7hnyCLV-fSuycqmAbPqt7XqngjB54LYM3DObix58SVUb157KePo7f7A43r4arqDLau16U69ZcB5UKHSJkOL7m_-XqUJ4GjK26Q9w-LuYajDCCvJCQuleARioq9-iQR3MK/s320/Paul_Newman_-_photo.jpg" width="254" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">> Jack Nicholson was offered the lead role but turned it down!</b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">> The role of the mob boss was almost given to Richard Boone but instead went to Robert Shaw.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">> Robert Shaw injured his leg playing handball before filming began. Instead of withdrawing from the film, Shaw was encouraged to incorporate the limp into the portrayal of his character. Thus the limp was authentic and added yet another signature detail to the tapestry of the film.</b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQ3anYPl3iniW3oi_gN8huBeDe4Bm7i8jXIHxS1xNaNzXE0ApFLaa7pyTyuNGAAUeecmWq9onwNtpiqCTNYdHKdBwxMO5c24ZFcja42of1h8ujG_7Q2lGJ_f3AuDp8LO_wRiM5QoB2PSEq5om1yLzuV8BSH_-5viXtFT1EIunE-H7ZsyG4U9-6Vxc/s748/Robert_Redford_photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="748" data-original-width="595" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdQ3anYPl3iniW3oi_gN8huBeDe4Bm7i8jXIHxS1xNaNzXE0ApFLaa7pyTyuNGAAUeecmWq9onwNtpiqCTNYdHKdBwxMO5c24ZFcja42of1h8ujG_7Q2lGJ_f3AuDp8LO_wRiM5QoB2PSEq5om1yLzuV8BSH_-5viXtFT1EIunE-H7ZsyG4U9-6Vxc/s320/Robert_Redford_photo.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv1035302681gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">"The Sting" was the second and final on-screen pairing of Newman and Redford. Their first film was "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid" in 1969. Given the enormous if not legendary status of both of these films, one more Newman-Redford pairing would have truly required a very special script, that regrettably never materialized. As we celebrate the Golden Anniversary of "The Sting" perhaps we should be satisfied that the legendary film duo left us wanting more as they remain forever etched in our minds at the top of their craft.</b></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8411354590340830505.post-32287751122617965372023-03-30T14:41:00.001-07:002023-03-30T14:41:30.840-07:00<p> <b style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: xx-large; outline: none !important;">APRIL<i style="outline: none !important;"> </i>2023</b></p><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: x-large; outline: none !important;">George Raveling & Rev Dr Martin Luther King Jr</span></b></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: xx-large; outline: none !important;"><i style="outline: none !important;">-</i> <i style="outline: none !important;">Crossing Paths at the March on Washington</i> -</b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div></div></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><span class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="color: #3333ff; outline: none !important;">By Rev Protodeacon </span>George A. Haloulakos</span></b><br style="outline: none !important;" /></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #3333ff; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><b style="color: blue; outline: none !important;"><span style="font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></span></b></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">Each year the first week of April brings to a conclusion the annual NCAA Basketball Tournament (aka March Madness) while also marking the anniversary of the assassination of the Rev Dr Martin Luther King Jr. Interestingly enough, as we reflect on the amazing life and ministry of the Rev Dr King, we find there is a unique connection with collegiate basketball in the person of Hall of Fame coach George Raveling. Therefore, recounting the story behind the life paths of a pioneering basketball coach and a Nobel Prize winning Civil Rights leader intersecting at a unique moment in history is especially timely during the first week of April.</b></span></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKe_DluDTP1L4OagDACsn4gg0oxulfRoo3EzXG6zI9vuwyBLb_B-BO-zTcCaa9V6PxoiWUj1KnEYJ6SqqmQxcSKjXymcBoskzj3GUiSU3STAe7sr57BW3Fee19sbDZ10DdSQFKdciPQnJquUzSE8imG9Mah7K_Af6sIRDn9gl-_NL5_oojiiH0VbFX/s370/George_Raveling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="370" data-original-width="276" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKe_DluDTP1L4OagDACsn4gg0oxulfRoo3EzXG6zI9vuwyBLb_B-BO-zTcCaa9V6PxoiWUj1KnEYJ6SqqmQxcSKjXymcBoskzj3GUiSU3STAe7sr57BW3Fee19sbDZ10DdSQFKdciPQnJquUzSE8imG9Mah7K_Af6sIRDn9gl-_NL5_oojiiH0VbFX/s320/George_Raveling.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">In August 1963, several days before the March on Washington, Raveling was having dinner at a friend's home in Claymont, DE. The father of Raveling's friend, encouraged both young men to attend the upcoming event while providing them travel money and the use of one of his cars to drive to Washington, DC. Upon their arrival, Raveling and his friend volunteered to serve as security guards thereby ending up standing a few feet away from the Rev Dr King on the podium at the Lincoln Memorial. As Rev Dr King was nearing the close of his historic speech, the famed Gospel singer Mahalia Jackson was heard in the background saying "tell 'em about the dream, Martin, tell 'em about the dream." Ms Jackson was familiar with this theme as she had heard King talk about this in his previous speeches at Selma and Detroit. At this point, in a moment of inspiration, Rev Dr King went off script -- (i.e., the "I Have A Dream" passage is NOT in the original typewritten hard copy of the speech he had in his hands when speaking at the Lincoln Memorial) -- by ad-libbing the "I Have A Dream" part because he realized his prepared remarks were not fully rising to the spirit of the occasion. This spontaneous addition was the signature portion of a magnificent speech. As Rev Dr King took the papers with his prepared remarks from the podium, he came face to face with Mr Raveling, who asked him "Dr King, can I have that?" King handed the speech to Raveling just moments before a throng of people came between the two men. Raveling folded up the papers and kept them on his person as the March on Washington concluded.</b></span></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OBeoNr0oOOUTxjPxuwOwfabAGb-L-KBXiO569iCxxfkMt--GjuMN5AVZ7X8jCQA7uNAZ387bD5vBqNAw46Z_ZpAFUilvE2ogt3xt_yoKUk9zOGQM_0XkPiW7Xmm2P6JWhjbU_Sy9P3zxxItvEwpWzQBxbMFCkKXHoRBgYib-e7QXTKmul3vLyuSB/s1000/MLK_I_have_a_dream.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="680" data-original-width="1000" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4OBeoNr0oOOUTxjPxuwOwfabAGb-L-KBXiO569iCxxfkMt--GjuMN5AVZ7X8jCQA7uNAZ387bD5vBqNAw46Z_ZpAFUilvE2ogt3xt_yoKUk9zOGQM_0XkPiW7Xmm2P6JWhjbU_Sy9P3zxxItvEwpWzQBxbMFCkKXHoRBgYib-e7QXTKmul3vLyuSB/s320/MLK_I_have_a_dream.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><b style="outline: none !important;">It should be noted that several hundred copies of King's prepared speech had been distributed to reporters, but ALL of these copies -- <u style="outline: none !important;">except</u> for the one King himself had at the podium and then gave to Raveling -- had an official stamp. The only markings on this document are the underline and asterisk Raveling later inserted to indicate where King had deviated from his prepared remarks.</b></span></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LLLAXK-0esiL9HJKlwhaUvjzI_1tyTytWRbAHkXcojPdOUeVS8mxnYtJPIH2Ofxl0XorP87A46ubnMtBr6PEUYPwTwkFvCO26ZjY9WIWs5h485CA_0HDuo1bOFA0ZsLi7MGMuPgsbjD3yPw8FrhEc7M8reQCzFkoUAf4V4bEJ9MsWris_ORkR0n0/s541/George%20Raveling%20at%20March%20on%20Washington.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="487" data-original-width="541" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6LLLAXK-0esiL9HJKlwhaUvjzI_1tyTytWRbAHkXcojPdOUeVS8mxnYtJPIH2Ofxl0XorP87A46ubnMtBr6PEUYPwTwkFvCO26ZjY9WIWs5h485CA_0HDuo1bOFA0ZsLi7MGMuPgsbjD3yPw8FrhEc7M8reQCzFkoUAf4V4bEJ9MsWris_ORkR0n0/s320/George%20Raveling%20at%20March%20on%20Washington.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b style="outline: none !important;"><br style="outline: none !important;" /></b></span></div><div class="yiv8245633852gmail_default" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: small; outline: none !important;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;">In the decades that have followed, Mr Raveling has had a wonderful life and career in mentoring others through a Hall of Fame basketball coaching career. When sharing his remembrance of this amazing moment in time, Raveling is humbled to be the keeper of such a precious document. He continues to help others prepare for life by teaching them to be ready for the right moment that can come at any time! The pursuit of the Dream expressed by Rev Dr King continues through the life and works of George Raveling and reminds all of us to always strive to be at our personal best.</b></span></div><div><span style="color: blue; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; outline: none !important;"><b style="outline: none !important;"><br /></b></span></div>Galaxy Moonbeam Night Sitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049472807127540502noreply@blogger.com0