Rant #401: Gone, Gone, Gone

Well, another relic from my childhood is evidently on line to go up in smoke soon.

Not really in flames, but you will see what I mean as you continue to read this.

My old public school, P.S. 30, Rochdale Village, South Jamaica, Queens, New York, has been put on the list as a school that might be closed by the New York City Board of Education soon. Evidently, it has fallen on very hard times, and its academic and disciplinary performance have fallen as a result.

New York City has been closing schools for years, many in minority areas such as the one that P.S. 30 resides in.

Under the current city administration, if a school doesn't meet certain standards, it is earmarked for closure. It doesn't matter what it did in the past. Its current record is all that counts, and evidently, P.S. 30's current record stinks.

But I remember P.S. 30 when it was a brand new school in a brand new neighborhood, a mixed-race school in a brand new mixed-race neighborhood that had all the promise that any new school in New York City in the 1960s had.

There were three schools in the Rochdale Village development: P.S. 30, P.S. 80, and I.S. 72. P.S. 30 was, by far, the best school of the three.

All the schools had dedicated teachers and students who generally wanted to learn. But P.S. 30, being the first of the three schools to be built, was something special. It was the educational backbone of this new community, and it served its community well during those early years.

Prior to the school being built, we had temporary classrooms, some within the massive apartment buildings themselves. It was a pain to go to second grade in those classrooms, but all we had to do was count the days, and our brand spanking new school would be open.

We had such wonder during those days, but 46 years later, it looks like it is crumbling.

And it isn't the only school that is falling down in New York City.

Dozen of schools in New York City have been earmarked for closure. What this generally means, and will probably mean in P.S. 30's case if this plan goes through, is that the kids already in the school will continue to be taught, but no new students will be accepted. Once the final class graduates, the school is turned into an annex school, where various pods of learning, featuring specialized guidance, are created.

I know that the school and the area are not what they once were, but how I hope that P.S. 30 can remain open as it has always been! It wasn't my first public school--before we moved to Rochdale, I went to Flushing, Queens' P.S. 165, a school that is decades older than P.S. 30 but remains open and viable--but P.S. 30 is where I have many of my earliest school memories.

Miss Marlowe, Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Plevin, Mr. Borgstead ... gosh, I even remember my teachers!

Whether open or closed, I will always remember that school. I wish it the best.

Rant #400: Lennon Remembered

Incredibly, today is the 30th anniversary of the death of John Lennon.

I, for one, can't believe that so much time has passed since his passing.

I remember the night well, as probably most Baby Boomers do.

In my case, I was what they now call multi-tasking in my room at home back then. I was 23 years old, had my first real job in New York City, was going to school to earn my graduate degree, and was tired as hell from a typical workday.

I was watching TV and recording music for my friend, who was going to graduate school in North Carolina. He had complained to me that the radio stations down there weren't very good, so I was putting the latest sounds on tape for him to listen to.

I had just finished putting Yoko Ono's "Walking On Thin Ice" on the cassette, when the program I was watching (which I don't remember), on NBC, was interrupted.

Chuck Scarborough, who to this day remains the news anchor at local Channel 4 here, came in with his booming voice and said something to the effect of, "We have received word that John Lennon, the former Beatle, has been shot. We don't know much more about this now, but Lennon reportedly was shot right outside his residence. We will have more on this later."

I was in shock, but of course just a few minutes later, I heard the words I didn't want to hear, when Scarborough came on again and said, "We have it from reliable sources that John Lennon was shot and killed just outside his Dakota residence. A gunman has reportedly been apprehended. More later."

I had stopped taping after the Ono song ended, and I immediately put on the radio part of my stereo.

Every station--and I mean every station--was playing Beatles music--both on AM and FM--except one.

The original WKTU, the city's top station at the time and which played disco and little else, continued in that mode.

I found this, and still do for that matter, incomprehensible. That station showed its true colors that night.

Anyway, the next days and weeks, all you heard about was Lennon, Lennon, and more Lennon.

Tributes poured in from everyone from everywhere.

There was the memorable scene in Central Park, where young and old gathered for a remembrance of the former Beatle. This was covered locally by Channel 7, and I watched it. There was nothing but silence from the crowd. It was eerie.

I carried my pathos to work on that Monday after Lennon's death.

I remember that one of my co-workers, probably in his late 40s or early 50s, questioned me about why I seemed to be so down in the dumps. I explained it to him, but I know he didn't get it. This was a guy who was born in the late 1920s or early 1930s, and I don't think there was any way he could fully get it.

Lennon was truly the first hero of my generation who died in such a violent way. Sure, JFK, Martin Luther King and Robert Kennedy preceded him, but we looked up to them as kids. They weren't really from our generation.

Lennon was. And through the "yeah, yeah, yeahs" and "Imagine," he had plenty to say about a lot of things.

Sure, I didn't agree with him on a lot of the things he said and stood up for.

But he was what he was--a man whose success put him in a situation that was almost otherworldly.

He found his peace in New York City, and ironically, he found the end to his life there too.

He seemed to be a nice guy underneath it all.

I am sorry he is gone.

Rant #399: A Long, Long Time Ago

I always seem to reflect back on my youth, I guess because my childhood was such a good time in my life, mixed in with a lot of nonsense, a lot of things I didn't understand at the time, and lots of things I understood way too well for a little kid.

Yes, I grew up in the 1960s.

There was no better time to grow up than in the 1960s, and probably no worse time. Everything was seemingly new, we certainly shot for the stars with what we thought we could do, and we idealized things, tried to rationalize things, that didn't make any sense into sense.

But I was a little kid, and in 1966 or 1967, I was just nine and 10 years old.

All I cared about was my comic book collection, my baseball card collection, my favorite sports teams (I was into every sport at that time), and when the next pickup stickball, fungo, or touch football game would be.

I played Little League baseball (or what our community had; it was not a sanctioned Little League) from the time I was seven up to 15 years of age. I loved it, and while I wasn't a very good player, I tried real hard.

At various times during my time as a Little Leaguer, I played first base, second base, all of the outfield positions, catcher, and one time--because our regular pitchers weren't around for some reason, I think it was mumps--pitcher.

My teams actually were pretty successful. When I got older, my father was the coach, and we won a few league championships. One was such a big deal that they put up the lights for us. We played one hot spring evening under the lights, with probably a hundred people watching us, and I know we won.

I scored a run by knocking the ball out of the catcher's glove and knocking myself out in the process. You see, the catcher, who we called "Fat Harry," was about 300 pounds when he was 11 or 12. My coach (my father was working, so we had a substitute coach, my friend's dad), told me that if the ball was hit on the ground, run to home and try to score. I did, but I swear to you I was knocked out for a second or two. When I came to, the coach told me that I knocked the ball out of the catcher's glove, and that I had scored. In today's world, I probably would have been checked out for a concussion, but there weren't any ill effects, and I actually stayed in the game and played second base.

Anyway, here is a picture of my team and me when I was about nine or 10 years old, a few years earlier than that game. This was sent to me by one of my old friends who I recently came in contact with again. The two coaches were fathers of my friends; I am the second from the right in the bottom row.

I look at this picture, and I see the joy I had playing baseball at that time. Really, nothing else mattered much. I was good in school, a pretty good kid all-around, so I really didn't have any problems at all.

My main problem was becoming a better player, which I did do, but I never was very good to begin with.

This is a truly great photo, and I thanked my old friend for it. It is a keepsake of a very different time in my life and the life of our country and our world. In some ways, I think it was a better time, at least for me.

But if you want to be honest about it, was it really such a good time? We were just a few years removed from the Kennedy assassination, our boys were still in Vietnam, and there was lots of strife going on in our own country. The worst was still yet to come in a lot of ways, but back in 1966 and 1967, my biggest worry was that the Yankees would actually be in last place (they were, in 1966).

I look back on that period, and I look back with fondness. There was nothing better than being a kid, growing up with so many friends, and not having to worry about much of anything at all.

"I was so much younger then ... ."

Rant #398: The End of the Sixties

Today is the 41st anniversary of an event that some say was the end of the 1960s as we know it.

On that day, the Rolling Stones put on a free concert at the Altamont Speedway in Alameda County, Calif., and this wild and wooly decade ended right there.

Evidently, the Stones were concerned about security at the concert, and hired Hell's Angels to promote crowd control.

Well, the Stones were right. Things got pretty hairy there.

The aftermath was that the Angels tried to control the crowd with force, which did not work. They ended up killing four concert-goers, including one teenager.

Some say it was the end of the 1960s, the raucous decade where the ideas of peace and love were often upended by violence, because just a few months after the peace and love that occurred at Woodstock, blood was spilled 3,000 miles on the other side of the country.

To this day, few know who to blame for the violence.

Were the Stones so ignorant that they thought the presence of a group like the Hell's Angels would be able to quell violence?

Were the Hell's Angels given just too large a job to fill, and they resorted to the primal instincts of violence, which led to murder?

Were the spectators, as a group, so drugged up and rowdy that death was an unfortunate by-product of this madness?

Who knows, but it made the Rolling Stones even more sinister to many than they had been before, and it's an incident, through all of their successes, that they've had to carry around with them for the past 40-plus years.

Some say they deserve such an albatross; others say it is unfair.

But you have four people who were murdered at this concert, one a kid in his teens.

It shouldn't have happened.

Have we learned anything from this?

Maybe. But you might remember that a decade later, a Who concert led to a stampeded and there was death there too.

You always hear about incidents at concerts, whether it be rock or rap.

Some say it simply has to do with large crowds. Wherever you have a large crowd of people--many of whom are tanked up, if you know what I mean--there is a chance that the worst in them will come out.

Whatever the case, going to a concert shouldn't be an exercise in survival.

Rant #397: This and That

With all the hubbub the past week about Thanksgiving and the beginning of Hanukkah, I seem to have overlooked some really important things that are happening in our world.

• Lindsay Lohan and Mr. Palin Being Considered For “Dancing With the Stars”: Another two reasons to not watch this program.

• Earthquake Rocks Long Island: Not in my neck of the woods, though. Heck, if we would have felt it in my part of Long Island, I would have contemplated moving to California.

• Cyber Monday Record Sales: Can’t these people get off their fannies and wake up at 3 a.m. on Black Friday and stand out in the cold and rain and do their shopping? Why do they have to do it on work time?

• Eminem Nabs 10 Grammy Nominations: See the Lindsay Lohan/Mr. Palin entry above, and multiply the number times five.

• 10th Anniversary of George Bush Declaring Himself Presidential Winner: Remember, Al Gore sought a recount in Florida, because the state’s “chads” were faulty? Don’t you yearn for those days of such simpleness?

• Rep. Charles Rangel Asks Representatives To Vote Against Censure: Sorry, Charles, the jig is up. You have been misrepresenting yourself for years, you were caught, and now it is time to pay the piper.

• New York City Eyes Professional Look For Cabbies: Soon they will look like doctors should look; have you seen the dress of doctors lately—they look like cabbies!

• Jeter, Yankees Still Can’t Agree on Contract: What a shame. He can’t feed his family on this type of money? When is enough truly enough for these people?

• Gil McDougald Passes: One of the lower-key Yankee stars from the golden age of New York City baseball passes on. A true legend all the way.

• Just Four Weeks To Go In 2010: Thank goodness. I look forward to the new year. Maybe I will finally get a raise in 2011!

Rant #396: Low-Key Hanukkah

The first night of Hanukkah came and went pretty much without a whimper last night in my house.

I don't know if it had to do with the fact that my wife and I really watched our pocketbooks this holiday season--save one gift--or that the holiday this year is so far removed from Christmas, but it was really a very quiet celebration last night.

My son had homework to do, and my father came home from work late, so the celebration was pushed back a bit. My wife and I were knocked out from our respective workdays, and I guess this all led up to a low-key celebration.

We said the prayer for the Hanukkah lights in both Hebrew and English, lit the middle candle, known as the shomash, and then lit the first candle, signifying the first night of the holiday.

Now to the gifts ...

Unlike other years, my son didn't get anything spectacular from us, just some clothes, which he received in full last night, some personal products (he loves the Axe brand), and wrestling videos, of which he already has hundreds, but let's face it, you can't have too many of those, can you?

He will get the wrestling videos, but as is the tradition, he will get them one per night. He will get his second one tonight.

My daughter was already given her present on Thanksgiving because she currently lives 300 miles away from us.

My wife gave me a Beatles T-shirt, a Beatles DVD of their performances on "The Ed Sullivan Show," and a great video, "The Abbott and Costello Christmas Show" (see, I am not really Scrooge) taken from their appearances on "The Colgate Comedy Hour."

I gave her a couple of CDs, a digital camera (not an expensive one), and a gift card to Dunkin' Donuts, which I think she liked the best out of all the presents I got her.

My mom and dad bought my family a toaster oven, and gave my wife, my son and myself some other small gifts. They gave my daughter something when they saw her for Thanksgiving.

My father got a DVD and a gift card for him and my mom to go to the movies. We gave my mom a video of Lucille Ball on "The Lucy Show," which came in a nice lunch box.

But the big gift was for my mom. It was a combination Hanukkah/Birthday gift, as she turns the big 8-0 on March 11. We bought her a computer, a netbook, so she can go on the computer anywhere in the house.

I think that not only was she surprised, she was astonished!

In lieu of potato pancakes--which I really can't have anymore--my wife bought chocolate covered pretzels, which were OK. You are supposed to have something sweet for the holiday, and this fit the bill.

And then, that was pretty much it. There were kisses and hugs all around, and then we all retired for the night.

Pretty low-key, but that was fine with me.

Rant #395: Tonight is Hanukkah

Tonight is Hanukkah.

I know that for most of our culture this means absolutely nothing, but for many of us, this holiday, which begins at sundown tonight, reflects the culmination of a year's work, and the time to party and celebrate.

Honestly, in the Jewish calendar, Hanukkah is not a major holiday. But it is a joyous and festive one, celebrating the rededication of the Temple of Jerusalem at the time of the Maccabean revolt, during the second century BCE (before the common era). After the Jews regained control of the temple, they found that they only had one night's oil for their candelabra, their eternal light. Somehow, through some type of miracle, the oil burned for eight days, hence the celebration of Hanukkah for eight days and the use of a menorah to signify the eternal light.

It's a great family-oriented holiday, and one of my favorite ones during the year (the other of my favorites is Passover).

Now, if you don't want to read some blunt words, don't read below, because I promise you, you are going to get them.

Hanukkah is not the Jewish Christmas. There is no such thing as a Hanukkah bush or Hanukkah tree ornaments or wreaths.

One holiday has nothing to do with the other.

And if you consider yourself Jewish, you cannot celebrate both.

Christmas is about Jesus, the messiah. Hanukkah, as my explanation provided, has nothing to do with Jesus, and the basic tenet of the Jewish religion is that the messiah has not come yet.

So once again, Hanukkah is not the Jewish Christmas.

Don't ask me if I follow both holidays. For me, although Christmas is a wonderful holiday in an of itself, for me, it is simply a day off from work for me and many of my fellow Jews, nothing more.

And the inundation we receive from the media about Christmas this and Christmas that is, well, annoying. I know some non-Jews who believe that starting to play Christmas songs on certain radio stations starting in October or even earlier is ridiculous.

And who do we blame for this idiocy, where Hanukkah is somehow blurred into Christmas?

Well, I kind of blame many of my fellow Jews themselves.

We have so assimilated into the Christian culture of this country that many of us have forgotten our roots.

Look, I am not a religious Jew at all, but I know, and my family knows, our heritage. We are Jews. We are not Christians.

I am not saying that there is anything the least bit wrong in following other religions. But when Jews decide that they are so assimilated that they forget who they are, that kind of bothers me.

And when people--oftentimes those in my own family--send Christmas cards or Season's Greetings cards to me this time of year, well, don't you think that is just plain lazy on their part?

I am not talking about business associates. I am talking about family members who should know better.

One year many years ago, a relative sent my family a Christmas card. I sent it right back. They figured out why I did that, and quickly sent over a Hanukkah card.

And yes, I blame Hollywood too. Hollywood is a place where Jews have always felt welcome to ply their craft, whether it be as an executive, behind the scenes person, or even in front of the camera.

Yet, Hollywood Jews kind of hide this time of year. I mean, where are the Barbra Streisands, the Neil Diamonds, the Dustin Hoffmans during this time of year? Celebrating Christmas, of course.

They are as phony as a warped sheckel.

When was the last time "Entertainment Tonight" ever asked high-profile Hollywood Jews about how they celebrate Hanukkah?

And when they ask Jews about Christmas, Jews just answer as if it were their holiday.

Well, it isn't.

The No. 1 movie the last time I looked was the umpteenth "Harry Potter" film. Just so you know, its star, Daniel Radcliffe, Harry Potter himself, is Jewish.

Just so you know.

That's the end of my bluntness. Have a great holiday, whatever holiday you celebrate, and I will be back tomorrow, hopefully with a nice report about how the first night of Hanukkah went.

Mazel tov!