An update of recent performances of Mt Olympus Coffee Shop

Byron-Bergen High School Drama Club - Bergen, NY
South Sioux City High School Speech Team - South Sioux CIty, NE
Friend of the Author - Stamford, CT
Sublette School Dist 9 - Big Piney, WY

Farewell to my neighbor, Andy Rooney

When my wife and I moved into our home in Rowayton 30 years ago, we were already fans of 60 Minutes, and Andy Rooney. Anyone who moves into this section of Norwalk quickly finds out that Andy Rooney lives here - although you weren't very likely to run into him. Soon after we came to town, Andy's segment on 60 Minutes began alternating with "Point Counterpoint" and eventually replaced it. I became a big fan of his commentaries. Maybe it was because he was a hometown celeb - but honestly, I don't think that had anything to do with it. Andy just said things that I wished I had.

Over the years I had a few chance sightings of Andy on the commuter train,  scuttling quickly off  in his trademark orthopedic style shoes. I also had some more personal interactions. In little snippets I learned more about Andy, the man, who lived with his wife in the big house on one of the busiest corners in town  I discovered Andy loved kids, when I brought my son to his door on Halloween. He invited him and his friends in, gave them treats, and really seemed interested in their costumes.

When Keep America Beautiful was one of the clients at the ad agency where I worked, I decided they needed Andy to do a radio campaign about why on earth people wouldn't recycle. I sent Andy a proposal, which he graciously declined, because "In spite of being asked by many good organizations, like your own, I have consistently declined to do public service announcements. While they are not commercials, anyone doing them loses some of his editorial independence."  I wrote the spots anyway, channeling Andy's attitude, instead of using his voice.

A big fan of his book, My War, my wife  and I went to a talk he was giving to benefit the town elementary school. After the talk, I approached him and did the unthinkable. I asked him to autograph a slip of paper which I intended to later stick in my copy of the book. Andy has often called people who do this "idiots." He patently refused to sign scraps of paper, because he believed they would end up stuffed in pants pockets and washing machines. But after declining my request, he said, "Put the book in my mailbox and I'll sign it."

The next day, I showed up at his house. Andy's mailbox is not convenient. It's not a roadside box, it's on his porch, which is an uphill trek from the street.  Parking at his house is not an easy task either. As I mentioned, he lived on one of the town's busiest intersections.  I parked my car illegally, then  climbed  the hill to the house I had so proudly pointed out to many of my friends and relatives over the years. I stuck the book in the mailbox, then high tailed it back to my car, fearing the wrath of Rooney.

Over the next few days, I agonized over going back to collect the book.  How many days should I give him? If he signed it right away, would he be annoyed that I hadn't come to pick it up? Finally, I decided four days was long enough, and once again I illegally parked my car, and headed up to the casa Rooney. Once on his porch, I gingerly opened the mailbox. Surely this was a federal crime. The box was empty. Oh, well. I had given it my best. Just as I was about to run back to my car, the front door opened. "May I help you?" I turned to find Andy's wife.  I explained my predicament, and apologized for the intrusion. She demanded that I come inside, while she cleared this up. I sat nervously in the kitchen, as she looked around for the book, which she assured me Andy had signed. Finally, she did something amazing. She picked up the phone and called Andy at CBS. There was a brief discussion about the circumstances,  then she hung up, headed into another room and returned triumphantly with the book. She muttered something about hating when Andy left her with these unfinished tasks, then sent my on my way. In my car, I opened the treasure. Scrawled on one of the opening pages was "To Frank Izzo. Andy Rooney 2001" That was it. I felt his pain in doing it. Every letter seemed to scream "idiot." But I was a happy idiot.

My last personal encounter with Mr. Rooney, not much long after the book signing, revealed another aspect of his personality. One day I was walking our bulldog Bartleby through the tiny downtown village of Rowayton. As I walked, I noticed a vehicle moving very slowly alongside me, the way people do when they're about to ask you for directions. Finally the car pulled up a few yards in front of me, halfway blocking the road. The driver's door swung open, and a small figure emerged. It was Andy. He didn't even look at me. He just began declaring merrily "I brake for bulldogs! I brake for bulldogs!" Then he asked what my bulldog's name was, and proceeded to give him a proper rubdown for a solid minute. He informed me that he had a bulldog that he loved, then turned around, hobbled back into his car and drove off, allowing the traffic flow in the village to return to normal.

I will miss Andy's segments on "60 Minutes." I will miss not having him as a neighbor. But I will resist the urge to overly eulogize him or be overly sentimental about his passing.  I agree with what was said on CBS Sunday Morning today - that Andy would probably have an opinion about eulogies - something like - what good is all that praise, when the person is not around to hear it?

Prairie Home Companion "Beaver Manure" excerpt

Saw the show live last week from St. Paul while visiting Jesse

Mt. Olympus Coffee Shop.

My 10 minute play about a Greek Diner run by actual Greek gods, published and produced
http://www.hitplays.com/default.aspx?pg=sd&st=MT.+OLYMPUS+COFFEE+SHOP&p=3364

Shippin' Up to Boston Cover Attempt

Video gamers may influence Pentgon tactics

http://nationalsecurityzone.org/site/navy-finds-creative-uses-for-war-games-and-those-who-play-them/

Cooper my English Bulldog plays with Hank the French Bulldog

bulldog in snow

my Rolling Stones Backstreet Girl accordion riff

New Year

Well, it seems after 10 days straight with bronchitis, at least the lungs on my squeezebox are operating relatively well. Let's all hope for a happy, healthy new year.

My trailer for Film Fest New Haven

My poem about daylight savings time

The hour I gain in fall
I really do not gain at all.
I spend it all in one big block
resetting every watch and clock.

Why voting is so scary to dictators is exactly why you should vote

As long as we have majority rule here (OK, we don't exactly, but close enough for me) I think we're a lot less likely to be taken over by a lunatic/dictator. That's why so many dictators stop or suspend elections (e.g. Hitler, who the majority of Germans did not want). So please, think twice before you skip voting today. At the very least, by not voting, you give somebody else's vote more power. And that someone could be ME.

Does failure to use directional signals indicate the fall of civilization?

 I once was told by a Latin teacher that a sign of the imminent fall of Rome was the day Roman soldiers started packing mirrors along with their battle gear. That little vanity indicated that troops would find it just a little harder to concentrate on lopping somebody's head off in battle. And as the Roman army went, so went Rome. I think the rampant failure of drivers to use directional signals is one of those small things that shows our society is headed for a roadside ditch. It's the canary in the mineshaft of civility.  The failure to signal not only shows that courtesy has broken down on our roads, but it also indicates we're willing to endanger ourselves by our rudeness. When you don't use directional signals, none of the surrounding vehicles know what the hell you're going to do - putting YOU in danger. There's only one thing worse than someone who doesn't use directional signals: someone who uses them at the last second to basically say "Get the hell out of my way!" as they cut you off.

My short story collection, now available at Amazon

I'm proud to announce that "Transubstantiation," a collection of semi-autobiographical short fiction about growing up in New Haven, Connecticut in the 1960's, is now available on Amazon.com.
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1453728600/ref=cm_cr_mts_prod_img

Two of my favorite things: Bulldogs and Martinis, together at last.

I'm a fairly dedicated Bombay Sapphire Martini drinker. Bombay Sapphire is my personal flavor preference. Also, the alcohol kick (47%) makes it a little more lethal than the standard gins. I actually cut my teeth on Vodka martinis, because the gin version usually tasted like lighter fluid. Not so with Bombay Sapphire. It's very smooth and flavorful. Also, I've heard a lot about Hendrick's Gin, which I recently finally tried. The deal with Hendrick's is it's from Scotland, and distilled in small batches. The floral flavor is a bit much for me personally, although I can understand why some might like it. It is surely a well-crafted, smooth gin. Plymouth has probably been around the longest - rumored to have been a favorite of the likes of Churchill and Roosevelt. I've yet to taste that one.
I've also seen a London Gin called Bulldog, bottled in a crock-like container (ala Hendricks). Usually it's sold at a super premium price. But tonight I saw it for less than my usual Bombay Sapphire, so I decided to give it a go. After all, I DO own an English Bulldog. Not to mention a Mini Cooper with Union Jacks on the mirrors.

I'm pleased to report, I did not have to give it to the dog - it was quite good - not as unusual in its botanicals as the Hendricks was, but still different and interesting, with flavors like poppy. Also, it was a little lighter in alcohol, weighing in at the typical distilled spirit proof of 80 (40%).
Bottom line, this dog will hunt. But more likely, like my own bulldog,  it will curl up on the couch and snore contentedly.

A great site for the best rock & roll songs with accordion

http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/yradish/8346/rockroll-accordion/

Jack Johnson with accordion back up

Will marriage hurt Don Draper's sex life?

Now that Don is engaged to that French pastry, rest assured he will continue to philander. He just can't help himself. And besides, if he stopped, that would be the end of the series. Who would watch it just to find out whether they got the Smucker's account?

Tony and Lucille's, Wooster St., New Haven

I have not been to this Wooster Street classic in probably 20 years - but I have to say, I just went back tonight, and it was great! People seem to love it or hate it. It's kind of like when I was growing up and eating my own family's incredible Italian food. At first, our waitress, who identified herself as one of the family, seemed a little put off by our questions and requests. But when we started treating her like part of our family, she started treating us like part of hers. I love this famiglia approach. I ordered a martini, which was kind of tiny, out of the 1950's, not like the usual fishbowl kind served up these days. So I ordered a second one. It showed up complete with shaker - enough for maybe three martini's - Since I was driving, I left half of it there. But it's a good an example of the quirkiness of the place. I read a review which said the customer complained there wasn't enough shrimp in their shrimp dish, and they showed up with an extra plateful. I have a feeling the complaint could just as easily ended them up with nothing. The place has got CHARACTER with a capital C. If you don't like character, go elsewhere. but I think it's part of the fun. But if character isn't your thing, my other favorite Italians in New Haven include Consiglio's (across the street on Wooster, smaller, more elegant in decor) Scoozzi - a more stylish Italian place that caters to the Yale crowd- on Chapel Street in downtown New Haven, and Basta - a tiny place also on Chapel that does things to perfection. All of these places rival many good New York Italians, including the ones on Arthur Ave. Mangia!