Interesting background here from the NY Supplement Vol. 1 and NY State Reporter Vol. 144 from June - July 6th, 1908. Great-grand father WJF and our grandmother's mother Leocadie Llado Farrell, a French-born Spanish widow (Francisco Llado died Aug. 28 1884 ) who WJF married and with whom they bore our grandmother Leocadie Farrell Casademont and great Aunt Margaret Farrell Conlon. (who married Judge Conlon, who bore uncle Joe Conlon and aunt Marie Conlon Gregory). To make a long story short, great-grandmother Leocadie Llado Farrell died (Mar. 19 1891) when Leocadie F. Casademont was an adolescent and WJF became executor of her estate, which included considerable rental property in Spain valued at $529.46 over which WJF was sued by Francisco's son Luis Llado. WJF sold said property on mortgage foreclosure to pay Francisco's debts; justice was done, WJF prevailed, motion was denied and by order of the Surrogates Court of King's County,(borough of Staten Island) with court costs of $10, paid by Luis. All concurred and the case was closed.
Note: $529.46 was a tidy sum at the turn of the last century; I'd surmise close to $25,000 in todays economy.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
FAMILY ON THE MOVE
CASADEMONT, CONLON & FARRELL VISIT BROTHERWOOD WINERY
Doing research on paternal grandmother’s (Farrell) family for a possible article. Herewith some findings.
http://www.ellisislandrecords.org/search/ship_passengers.asp?
letter=p&half=1 name=Parima&year=1919&sdate=08/28/1919 Port=Barbados,*West*Indies&page=1
Leocadie ( Baba) Farrell Casademont, age 31, traveling on the freighter PARIMA from Barbados, ( making stops throughout the West Indies) arrives Ellis Island, NY with the 3 eldest, Henry Jr, (4 yr 10 months) John (10 months) and Leocadie (1 yr 11 months). The latter must be Tati, Aunt Leonor. (Perhaps she preferred Leonor to Leocadie to differentiate her from her mother) Another discrepancy: Uncle John’s birth certificate (have a copy from a business trip there, 1989) reads Born: June 9th 1919, Waverly, Christchurch, Barbados (if you’d like a copy)…the attached records his age on August 28 1919 at 10 months. Maybe Aunt Cristina in Brasil or Uncle John (90 years, June 9th 2009) would like to shed light on this maybe with help from Marie Ines.
Birthday wishes: John Casademont 27 Charter Street Apt. 809, Salem Mass 01970. Tele: 978-745-3010.
http://rmc.library.cornell.edu/EAD/htmldocs/RMM06701.html
SERIES III Correspondence, 1926-1939…our grandfather Henry was presumably supplying cork to Brotherhood Winery as our grandmother’s cousin (or half brother) relative Louis Farrell Sr and Jr, owned Brotherhood Winery from 1921 until 1987 (founded 1822)oldest in USA in continuous production.
I visited BW in 1976, unaware that a branch of Baba’s family were owners. Coincidentally I had not heard of it until I went with Gina Kelly, who attended Cornell from where these records are taken. A note: during prohibition ( 1919, Uncle John’s birth year) when it was illegal to produce alchohol, Brotherwood survived by producing sacramental wine for Holy Communion in celebrating the Holy Eucharist.
Series III Correspondence 1935-1940 between the cousins: Louis Farrell, and (Joe Sr ) Margaret ( Farrell) Conlon, our grandmothers sister and mother of Marie ( Farrell) Gregory, and Joe Conlon Jr . Both Joe Senior and Junior were lawyers, and probably doing legal work for the family.
Doing research on paternal grandmother’s (Farrell) family for a possible article. Herewith some findings.
http://www.ellisislandrecords.org/search/ship_passengers.asp?
letter=p&half=1 name=Parima&year=1919&sdate=08/28/1919 Port=Barbados,*West*Indies&page=1
Leocadie ( Baba) Farrell Casademont, age 31, traveling on the freighter PARIMA from Barbados, ( making stops throughout the West Indies) arrives Ellis Island, NY with the 3 eldest, Henry Jr, (4 yr 10 months) John (10 months) and Leocadie (1 yr 11 months). The latter must be Tati, Aunt Leonor. (Perhaps she preferred Leonor to Leocadie to differentiate her from her mother) Another discrepancy: Uncle John’s birth certificate (have a copy from a business trip there, 1989) reads Born: June 9th 1919, Waverly, Christchurch, Barbados (if you’d like a copy)…the attached records his age on August 28 1919 at 10 months. Maybe Aunt Cristina in Brasil or Uncle John (90 years, June 9th 2009) would like to shed light on this maybe with help from Marie Ines.
Birthday wishes: John Casademont 27 Charter Street Apt. 809, Salem Mass 01970. Tele: 978-745-3010.
http://rmc.library.cornell.edu/EAD/htmldocs/RMM06701.html
SERIES III Correspondence, 1926-1939…our grandfather Henry was presumably supplying cork to Brotherhood Winery as our grandmother’s cousin (or half brother) relative Louis Farrell Sr and Jr, owned Brotherhood Winery from 1921 until 1987 (founded 1822)oldest in USA in continuous production.
I visited BW in 1976, unaware that a branch of Baba’s family were owners. Coincidentally I had not heard of it until I went with Gina Kelly, who attended Cornell from where these records are taken. A note: during prohibition ( 1919, Uncle John’s birth year) when it was illegal to produce alchohol, Brotherwood survived by producing sacramental wine for Holy Communion in celebrating the Holy Eucharist.
Series III Correspondence 1935-1940 between the cousins: Louis Farrell, and (Joe Sr ) Margaret ( Farrell) Conlon, our grandmothers sister and mother of Marie ( Farrell) Gregory, and Joe Conlon Jr . Both Joe Senior and Junior were lawyers, and probably doing legal work for the family.
Monday, June 29, 2009
FINANCIAL HOLOCAUST PERPETRATOR
TOP TEN Bernard Madoff Things You Don't Know.
Madoff's favorite film: Wall Street
Charles Ponzi was a boy scout next to Madoff.
Madoff's alter ego: Gordon Gecko.
Madoff is the new poster boy for greed.
Madoff is no better than a murdering gangster.
Webster's Dictionary needs a new defining entry describing his heinous acts.
Madoff needs to enlist the aid of a good taster in the prison cafeteria.
We must guard against members of his family profitting from a book deal.
Madoff should spend his prison time writing apologies to everyone he's cheated.
150 years doesn't come close to the sentence he should get...the death penalty.
Madoff's favorite film: Wall Street
Charles Ponzi was a boy scout next to Madoff.
Madoff's alter ego: Gordon Gecko.
Madoff is the new poster boy for greed.
Madoff is no better than a murdering gangster.
Webster's Dictionary needs a new defining entry describing his heinous acts.
Madoff needs to enlist the aid of a good taster in the prison cafeteria.
We must guard against members of his family profitting from a book deal.
Madoff should spend his prison time writing apologies to everyone he's cheated.
150 years doesn't come close to the sentence he should get...the death penalty.
Friday, June 26, 2009
OLD THINGS STICK
Wistfully, where are they now? The hardwood boxes with smoothed down edges, burnished brass marine fixtures, musical instruments, harmonicas and saxes playing Hugo Alfven's Swedish Rhapsody, soft leather polo pony saddles, cherry pipe tobacco, maple wood smoked armchairs from many fireside chats, shotguns and pistols from any Civil War, Cartier-Bresson black and white photographs, bottles with bubbles in blue, green, stately pigeon encrusted statues, wooden sail boats, bicycles with a single gear and horse drawn carriages, old gilded mirrors but most of all old people with the roadmaps of their lives etched in their weathered faces, teachers, scientists and story tellers, especially so.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
LETTERMAN SHOULD GO
KNOCKED UP CROSSED THE LINE
David Letterman’s smarmy remark about Governor Sarah Palin’s 14 year old daughter Willow getting Knocked Up by A-Rod during the 7th inning at Yankee Stadium is offensive, insulting and unforgiveable. CBS fired radio host Don Imus for a less egregious comment concerning nappy haired basketball players. But this is TV, the ratings are up, and Les Moonves, CBS’s President & CEO, can only be ecstatic. So the dilemma is, will the number of new viewers and advertisers outnumber and outweigh the loss of viewers and advertising revenue? Firing Letterman is not an option; they have no suitable replacement. But they need to fire someone. Heads should roll, at least the head writers'.
NB: CBS advertisers you might consider boycotting: Old Navy, Johnson & Johnson, Kellogg’s, Southwest Airlines, Olive Garden and T-Mobile. If you want Letterman fired, call Les at CBS: 212-975-4321, or http://www.firedavidletterman.com
David Letterman’s smarmy remark about Governor Sarah Palin’s 14 year old daughter Willow getting Knocked Up by A-Rod during the 7th inning at Yankee Stadium is offensive, insulting and unforgiveable. CBS fired radio host Don Imus for a less egregious comment concerning nappy haired basketball players. But this is TV, the ratings are up, and Les Moonves, CBS’s President & CEO, can only be ecstatic. So the dilemma is, will the number of new viewers and advertisers outnumber and outweigh the loss of viewers and advertising revenue? Firing Letterman is not an option; they have no suitable replacement. But they need to fire someone. Heads should roll, at least the head writers'.
NB: CBS advertisers you might consider boycotting: Old Navy, Johnson & Johnson, Kellogg’s, Southwest Airlines, Olive Garden and T-Mobile. If you want Letterman fired, call Les at CBS: 212-975-4321, or http://www.firedavidletterman.com
Sunday, June 14, 2009
FISHERMEN ROCK & RULE
CASTING A WIDE NET: St. Mathew 4:18-23
Attending church on Sunday is always rewarding on so many levels but more often than not, for whatever reason, I don't make time for it finding an excuse or another. When I do go I often find myself distracted or zoning out completely. Today was different. I paid attention as the priest at St. Jude's read the Gospel, maybe because it had a sports theme, fishing, or maybe it was a message I needed to learn. Saint Mathew chronicles how Jesus walked along the banks of the Sea of Galilee until he meets brothers Peter and Andrew who were casting their nets. He invites them to join him and become fishers of men presumably because he saw how good they were at netting the small fry. Anyone who's ever tried to catch fish with a net knows how tough that can be. Christ must have been a heck of a good salesman because, so the story goes, they dropped their nets and signed on to the program. I think what he really said was Hey, I'm Jesus, you guys want to catch some really big ones? A short time later he made the same offer to another pair of fishing brothers James and John with the same result. They probably thought Pinch me, I must have died and gone to fish tournament heaven! Jesus had a good day. He went out scouting and recruited four of the twelve members of his fishing team. And in Peter he saw real talent, someone he could build a franchise around, a future hall of famer. Who knew fishers had such potential? Wonder what a team of footballers might have produced?
Attending church on Sunday is always rewarding on so many levels but more often than not, for whatever reason, I don't make time for it finding an excuse or another. When I do go I often find myself distracted or zoning out completely. Today was different. I paid attention as the priest at St. Jude's read the Gospel, maybe because it had a sports theme, fishing, or maybe it was a message I needed to learn. Saint Mathew chronicles how Jesus walked along the banks of the Sea of Galilee until he meets brothers Peter and Andrew who were casting their nets. He invites them to join him and become fishers of men presumably because he saw how good they were at netting the small fry. Anyone who's ever tried to catch fish with a net knows how tough that can be. Christ must have been a heck of a good salesman because, so the story goes, they dropped their nets and signed on to the program. I think what he really said was Hey, I'm Jesus, you guys want to catch some really big ones? A short time later he made the same offer to another pair of fishing brothers James and John with the same result. They probably thought Pinch me, I must have died and gone to fish tournament heaven! Jesus had a good day. He went out scouting and recruited four of the twelve members of his fishing team. And in Peter he saw real talent, someone he could build a franchise around, a future hall of famer. Who knew fishers had such potential? Wonder what a team of footballers might have produced?
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
DEJA VU
THE UNDERTAKER AND THE HITMAN.
TWA Terminal, John F. Kennedy International Airport, NY, NY. Parked along the median curb bending away from TWA's terminal in wait for the imminent arrival of a delayed flight I sat idly, distractedly looking out my soot-streaked window. It was early evening and grey afternoon shadows were rising. On the sidewalk 25 yards away, advancing counter clockwise, perpendicular to my line of vision, came a slight black Skycap maneuvering a small woman in a wheel chair. Just behind another skycap wheeled a rack piled with luggage. In stark contrast the vivid red caps were punctuation marks in an otherwise bland aeroscape. Lagging like an afterthought trudged an unremarkably ruddy faced pudgy man dressed in a gravely dark suit, his measured steps like an undertaker in a funeral. I could see from his signature profile Alfred Hitchcock. He was completely in character. I watched surreally until their automobile, seeming all the more like a hearse, disappeared. 5th Avenue @ 57th Street, NY, NY. Running late, walking north on 5th, arriving at the SW corner of 57th, I turned towards Bendel’s nearly runnning head on into a man holding a child in his hand. According to common street etiquette I should have yielded the right of way as he was making a south bound right hand turn. There was virtually no contact, the child was non-plussed but nevertheless I murmured something deferential. He was poker faced, reactionless and expressionless. Behind large framed glasses his deadpan gaze was matter of factly cool. I had seen those eyes before. La Voile Rouge, 4th @ Ocean Drive, South Beach, Florida. About 100 yards offshore a large fish breached the surface making sevaral surfaces passes north to south and back again before I dove in for a closer look. From the leisurely pattern I thought it couldn't be predatory as it exhibited the characteristic docile behaviour of a whale or porpoise. It was a manta or devil ray, with a 25 foot wingspan. Though rays look threatening they pose little danger, having small mouths with vestigial teeth that filter krill and plankton. The manta passed within 10 yards causing my blood to pumping madly as I floated in its path. Pulling myself out of the surf he was on the sand sitting in the shadow of an umbrella with an exotic woman in sunglasses and hat. He had a detached expression like a MD examining a specimen. Deja vu, Michael Caine. I think his mask, his public face serves two purposes; as he rests his facial, ocular muscles as good actors do, his intimidating gaze kept curious fans at bay.
TWA Terminal, John F. Kennedy International Airport, NY, NY. Parked along the median curb bending away from TWA's terminal in wait for the imminent arrival of a delayed flight I sat idly, distractedly looking out my soot-streaked window. It was early evening and grey afternoon shadows were rising. On the sidewalk 25 yards away, advancing counter clockwise, perpendicular to my line of vision, came a slight black Skycap maneuvering a small woman in a wheel chair. Just behind another skycap wheeled a rack piled with luggage. In stark contrast the vivid red caps were punctuation marks in an otherwise bland aeroscape. Lagging like an afterthought trudged an unremarkably ruddy faced pudgy man dressed in a gravely dark suit, his measured steps like an undertaker in a funeral. I could see from his signature profile Alfred Hitchcock. He was completely in character. I watched surreally until their automobile, seeming all the more like a hearse, disappeared. 5th Avenue @ 57th Street, NY, NY. Running late, walking north on 5th, arriving at the SW corner of 57th, I turned towards Bendel’s nearly runnning head on into a man holding a child in his hand. According to common street etiquette I should have yielded the right of way as he was making a south bound right hand turn. There was virtually no contact, the child was non-plussed but nevertheless I murmured something deferential. He was poker faced, reactionless and expressionless. Behind large framed glasses his deadpan gaze was matter of factly cool. I had seen those eyes before. La Voile Rouge, 4th @ Ocean Drive, South Beach, Florida. About 100 yards offshore a large fish breached the surface making sevaral surfaces passes north to south and back again before I dove in for a closer look. From the leisurely pattern I thought it couldn't be predatory as it exhibited the characteristic docile behaviour of a whale or porpoise. It was a manta or devil ray, with a 25 foot wingspan. Though rays look threatening they pose little danger, having small mouths with vestigial teeth that filter krill and plankton. The manta passed within 10 yards causing my blood to pumping madly as I floated in its path. Pulling myself out of the surf he was on the sand sitting in the shadow of an umbrella with an exotic woman in sunglasses and hat. He had a detached expression like a MD examining a specimen. Deja vu, Michael Caine. I think his mask, his public face serves two purposes; as he rests his facial, ocular muscles as good actors do, his intimidating gaze kept curious fans at bay.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
BRITAIN'S GOT TALENT: SUSAN BOYLE
LONG SHOT COMES IN SECOND
Even if you’ve been living in an Iraqi POW camp, by now you’ve heard of Susan Boyle, a contestant from Blackburn, Scotland who was catapulted to fame April 11th in the Britain’s Got Talent TV program aired last week. What did Susan do to warrant a standing ovation? What was it about her performance that caused more then 100 million curiosity seekers to search for her on YouTube?
Viewers flocked to YouTube because, so went the the media buzz, Susan sang like an dream but looked like a nightmare. Then in the midst of the media frenzy the frumpy wall flower had an on-air meltdown, captured on video, sending hordes of bored voyeurs to the Web, more to see her snap than hear her sing.
But fans also understood how brave, even courageous she was. Stepping through the curtains, into the bright lights and up to the microphone, where few would follow for fear of rejection, she became every woman, hope personified for those with talent and dreams but little confidence. The Susan's of this world have a zillion to one shot. Susan was the ultimate underdog, a real life SlumDog Millionaire.
What's next for Susan? Will she hire a manager, a publicist, go on tour, sing at the Grammy's? Or will she go home to Blackburn, to family and friends, to sing karaoke on Saturday night and church choir Sunday mornings? Let's hope this experience hasn't changed the Susan we first met.
"How far we all come. How far we all come from ourselves. You can never go home again." ---A Death in the Family, James Agee.
Even if you’ve been living in an Iraqi POW camp, by now you’ve heard of Susan Boyle, a contestant from Blackburn, Scotland who was catapulted to fame April 11th in the Britain’s Got Talent TV program aired last week. What did Susan do to warrant a standing ovation? What was it about her performance that caused more then 100 million curiosity seekers to search for her on YouTube?
Viewers flocked to YouTube because, so went the the media buzz, Susan sang like an dream but looked like a nightmare. Then in the midst of the media frenzy the frumpy wall flower had an on-air meltdown, captured on video, sending hordes of bored voyeurs to the Web, more to see her snap than hear her sing.
But fans also understood how brave, even courageous she was. Stepping through the curtains, into the bright lights and up to the microphone, where few would follow for fear of rejection, she became every woman, hope personified for those with talent and dreams but little confidence. The Susan's of this world have a zillion to one shot. Susan was the ultimate underdog, a real life SlumDog Millionaire.
What's next for Susan? Will she hire a manager, a publicist, go on tour, sing at the Grammy's? Or will she go home to Blackburn, to family and friends, to sing karaoke on Saturday night and church choir Sunday mornings? Let's hope this experience hasn't changed the Susan we first met.
"How far we all come. How far we all come from ourselves. You can never go home again." ---A Death in the Family, James Agee.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
MAY 22nd International Bio-Diversity Day
WOMBATS?!?
Is anyone concerned over the plight of the critically endangered Australian Northern Hairy Nosed Wombat besides the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, Geneva Switzerland? Probably, but first let's take a closer look at the lowly wombat.
Wombats appear rather insignificant: small burrowing bearlike marsupials, mammals who nurse their young in pouches, like kangaroo and opposum. They're not social or popular, rather reclusive, nocturnal, weigh 55 lbs, measure 40 inches, nor cute and cuddly like the photogenic koala. The rarest of all the common wombats is the Northern Hairy Nosed variety; only a 150 or so remain. It's relegated to a 3 square kilometer patch in the east-central Queensland. Less than two hundred people have ever seen one as none exist in captivity.
The IUCN, founded in 1948 is the oldest and largest global environmental and sustainable development network. Operating in 160 countries, it has tallied 5,487 mammalian species on earth, sky and sea. Of those, 1,141 are said to be seriously threatened. As there is insufficient evidence on 800, the figure could be significantly higher. Grim news indeed.
But true grimness is IUCN's Red List, a report of the species with the bleakest of futures: critically endangered, possibly extinct, yet not confirmed. The current report lists 29 species that are close to or near extinction. Besides Northern Hairy Nosed Wombats, the Red List also includes the Caspian Seal, Iberian Lynx, Tasmanian Devil and Cuba's Little Earth Hutia, a rodent not seen in over forty years.
So the shy little reclusive nocturnal Northern Hairy Nosed wombat is now a rather significant litmus test. We can sit and wait or we can see and do. It's our choice.
Please visit IUCN.org to see what you can do today.
Is anyone concerned over the plight of the critically endangered Australian Northern Hairy Nosed Wombat besides the International Union for the Conservation of Nature, Geneva Switzerland? Probably, but first let's take a closer look at the lowly wombat.
Wombats appear rather insignificant: small burrowing bearlike marsupials, mammals who nurse their young in pouches, like kangaroo and opposum. They're not social or popular, rather reclusive, nocturnal, weigh 55 lbs, measure 40 inches, nor cute and cuddly like the photogenic koala. The rarest of all the common wombats is the Northern Hairy Nosed variety; only a 150 or so remain. It's relegated to a 3 square kilometer patch in the east-central Queensland. Less than two hundred people have ever seen one as none exist in captivity.
The IUCN, founded in 1948 is the oldest and largest global environmental and sustainable development network. Operating in 160 countries, it has tallied 5,487 mammalian species on earth, sky and sea. Of those, 1,141 are said to be seriously threatened. As there is insufficient evidence on 800, the figure could be significantly higher. Grim news indeed.
But true grimness is IUCN's Red List, a report of the species with the bleakest of futures: critically endangered, possibly extinct, yet not confirmed. The current report lists 29 species that are close to or near extinction. Besides Northern Hairy Nosed Wombats, the Red List also includes the Caspian Seal, Iberian Lynx, Tasmanian Devil and Cuba's Little Earth Hutia, a rodent not seen in over forty years.
So the shy little reclusive nocturnal Northern Hairy Nosed wombat is now a rather significant litmus test. We can sit and wait or we can see and do. It's our choice.
Please visit IUCN.org to see what you can do today.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
POST MASTER GENERAL RAISES RATES
WRITE LETTERS, USE STAMPS, SAVE JOBS
The US Post Master General John E. Potter announced effective Tuesday May 12th first class postage stamps increase a cent to 42 cents.
What’s a penny worth these days. Let’s put it in perspective. The US Treasury is thinking of discontinuing the penny because it’s no longer profitable. It costs two cents to mint one. To the US Postal Service and it’s 786,000 employees, one cent is huge. The Post Office sends 9.5 billion pieces of mail a year. You do the math.
The common perception is the penny has little to no value. They’re more annoying than helpful. To the average consumer who mails a few monthly bills it’s small change. There used to be a saying. “See a penny pick it up, now you’ll have good luck”. Now even kids pass them by.
Will some use a penny as an excuse? Will this increase deter people from taking pen to paper? Will writing become a quaint custom from a by-gone era? In 2009 I vowed somewhat nostalgically to keep in touch in a more traditional way by writing more often in manuscript form. I’m not shilling for Hallmark or American Greetings but the surprise of getting a note in the post can make someone’s day. I like letters because one’s scroll and script illustrates a bit of one's personality.
I have a friend, Richard Raleigh, a professor of literature at St. Thomas University my alma mater who began teaching there 47 years ago in 1966, a remakable feat in itself. During that time he’s probably shared his insights on Whitmann and Hemingway with 50,000 students. And ever since I have been provileged to have been the recepient of his thoughtful poetry, Christmas wishes and amusing post cards penned from Spain and beyond. Certainly as prolific as he is, many others were beneficiaries of his hand written missives. I believe I’ve kept them all.
The next time you spy a cent on the sidewalk, pick it up. Put it in a jar marked Stamps. In this way, they’ll be re-introduced into circulation. Write your friends and family personalized letters in long hand. Reserve your bill paying for the internet.
As Master Card might put it: Buying 15 first class stamps: $6.30; Buying a birthday card: $2.99. Making someone smile, priceless.
The US Post Master General John E. Potter announced effective Tuesday May 12th first class postage stamps increase a cent to 42 cents.
What’s a penny worth these days. Let’s put it in perspective. The US Treasury is thinking of discontinuing the penny because it’s no longer profitable. It costs two cents to mint one. To the US Postal Service and it’s 786,000 employees, one cent is huge. The Post Office sends 9.5 billion pieces of mail a year. You do the math.
The common perception is the penny has little to no value. They’re more annoying than helpful. To the average consumer who mails a few monthly bills it’s small change. There used to be a saying. “See a penny pick it up, now you’ll have good luck”. Now even kids pass them by.
Will some use a penny as an excuse? Will this increase deter people from taking pen to paper? Will writing become a quaint custom from a by-gone era? In 2009 I vowed somewhat nostalgically to keep in touch in a more traditional way by writing more often in manuscript form. I’m not shilling for Hallmark or American Greetings but the surprise of getting a note in the post can make someone’s day. I like letters because one’s scroll and script illustrates a bit of one's personality.
I have a friend, Richard Raleigh, a professor of literature at St. Thomas University my alma mater who began teaching there 47 years ago in 1966, a remakable feat in itself. During that time he’s probably shared his insights on Whitmann and Hemingway with 50,000 students. And ever since I have been provileged to have been the recepient of his thoughtful poetry, Christmas wishes and amusing post cards penned from Spain and beyond. Certainly as prolific as he is, many others were beneficiaries of his hand written missives. I believe I’ve kept them all.
The next time you spy a cent on the sidewalk, pick it up. Put it in a jar marked Stamps. In this way, they’ll be re-introduced into circulation. Write your friends and family personalized letters in long hand. Reserve your bill paying for the internet.
As Master Card might put it: Buying 15 first class stamps: $6.30; Buying a birthday card: $2.99. Making someone smile, priceless.
Saturday, May 09, 2009
Sunday, May 03, 2009
BLOCKBUSTER BUSTED.
From: The MIAMI NEW TIMES http://blogs.miaminewtimes.com/riptide/2009/05/reader_busts_blockbuster_for_s.php
I telephoned Mr. Jim Keyes, CEO at Blockbuster Headquarters in Dallas Wednesday April 22nd. What I witnessed that day outside one of their stores was occurring at 4,000 Blockbuster’s around the country simultaneously. I had to know why.After work I ran some errands, picked up groceries, dry-cleaning, stoppped at Blockbuster to return a DVD. Borrowing and renting are good things. Like a book from the public library, DVD’s can be enjoyed (or not) by others. It was an unusual day in Miami. Mother earth had blessed us with one of those rare near-zero humidity- free evenings with a clear cloudless deep blue sky. Aptly enough, it was Earthday.So I’m walking from the parking lot towards Blockbuster and exiting is a 20-something year old employee. Blue and gold uniform shirt with a nametag. I’ll call him Bill.Bill’s got a hand truck with twin trash bins filled with DVD’s, at least 250-300. He was on a clear path to the big green dumpster marked Waste Management at the edge of the parking lot.As he passed I raised the DVD in greeting. “You throwing those out?” My tone feigned surprise as if to imply such a treasure trove would make my day. “Yeah’ Bill said matter of factly. I turned and followed him.“You know it’s Earth day, right?” Over his shoulder, almost sheepishly, “Yeah” and I believe he was remorseful. I pressed for an explanation. “We’re doing inventory, we only send back discs.” Apparently recycling’s too expensive; it’s cheaper to haul them, dump them and burn new ones.I watched for a minute as he threw handfuls into the dumpster. I thought of the millions of years they would sit in landfills until they would reunite with the earth in a useful way.I thought maybe if the board of directors, and shareholders knew about this, they’d do something to change the process. I decided to call headquarters.So I telephoned Jim Keyes for his reaction. Jim’s personal assistant Loretta listened politely and recommended Karen Raskopf, SVP Corporate Communications and transferred me to her extension. Her PA apologized saying she was away from the office. I asked if she’d connect me to Randy Hargrove, Sr. Director of Corporate Communications. He was in a meeting; I left a message with his PA; he returned my call within the hour.“ Hi Randy, thanks for the call back.” I introduced myself, recounted what I had seen and heard. ‘Is it true, that it’s too costly to recycle the DVD cases?”Randy was helpful. “The cases, we call them Amaray’s, it’s an industry term.” “Amaray’s, okay, uh, how do you spell that? "In their defense, he did say that since they no longer hand out the little carry-out plastic bags so they’ve reduced CO2 emissions by 73,000 tons since 2004 and recycling the plastic carpet equals saving 66,000 trees, and the new lighting saves the equivalent of 12,000 thermal degrees. Yada yada and and a lot of other good stuff.I knew the answer to my next question was a big yes. " Didn't Wayne Huisenga spawn BlockBuster and Waste Management?" I don't think I said spawn. No comment from Randy. Hmmmmmmmm.I know he wanted to learn Bill’s identity. No, I didn’t give Bill up. He was only doing his job. You know how that works.
I telephoned Mr. Jim Keyes, CEO at Blockbuster Headquarters in Dallas Wednesday April 22nd. What I witnessed that day outside one of their stores was occurring at 4,000 Blockbuster’s around the country simultaneously. I had to know why.After work I ran some errands, picked up groceries, dry-cleaning, stoppped at Blockbuster to return a DVD. Borrowing and renting are good things. Like a book from the public library, DVD’s can be enjoyed (or not) by others. It was an unusual day in Miami. Mother earth had blessed us with one of those rare near-zero humidity- free evenings with a clear cloudless deep blue sky. Aptly enough, it was Earthday.So I’m walking from the parking lot towards Blockbuster and exiting is a 20-something year old employee. Blue and gold uniform shirt with a nametag. I’ll call him Bill.Bill’s got a hand truck with twin trash bins filled with DVD’s, at least 250-300. He was on a clear path to the big green dumpster marked Waste Management at the edge of the parking lot.As he passed I raised the DVD in greeting. “You throwing those out?” My tone feigned surprise as if to imply such a treasure trove would make my day. “Yeah’ Bill said matter of factly. I turned and followed him.“You know it’s Earth day, right?” Over his shoulder, almost sheepishly, “Yeah” and I believe he was remorseful. I pressed for an explanation. “We’re doing inventory, we only send back discs.” Apparently recycling’s too expensive; it’s cheaper to haul them, dump them and burn new ones.I watched for a minute as he threw handfuls into the dumpster. I thought of the millions of years they would sit in landfills until they would reunite with the earth in a useful way.I thought maybe if the board of directors, and shareholders knew about this, they’d do something to change the process. I decided to call headquarters.So I telephoned Jim Keyes for his reaction. Jim’s personal assistant Loretta listened politely and recommended Karen Raskopf, SVP Corporate Communications and transferred me to her extension. Her PA apologized saying she was away from the office. I asked if she’d connect me to Randy Hargrove, Sr. Director of Corporate Communications. He was in a meeting; I left a message with his PA; he returned my call within the hour.“ Hi Randy, thanks for the call back.” I introduced myself, recounted what I had seen and heard. ‘Is it true, that it’s too costly to recycle the DVD cases?”Randy was helpful. “The cases, we call them Amaray’s, it’s an industry term.” “Amaray’s, okay, uh, how do you spell that? "In their defense, he did say that since they no longer hand out the little carry-out plastic bags so they’ve reduced CO2 emissions by 73,000 tons since 2004 and recycling the plastic carpet equals saving 66,000 trees, and the new lighting saves the equivalent of 12,000 thermal degrees. Yada yada and and a lot of other good stuff.I knew the answer to my next question was a big yes. " Didn't Wayne Huisenga spawn BlockBuster and Waste Management?" I don't think I said spawn. No comment from Randy. Hmmmmmmmm.I know he wanted to learn Bill’s identity. No, I didn’t give Bill up. He was only doing his job. You know how that works.
SIGNS LEAD NO-WHERE
SIGN, SIGN, everywhere a SIGN, blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the SIGN.---Five Man Electrical Band, 1970
Signs generally fall into three categories. Those that serve in the public interest, those that sell products and services and the most ancient and interesting, those identified with youth culture, political dissent and pure art, graffito aka graffiti. Between the constant escalating infusion of traffic signals, commercial billboards and the marking turf boundaries slash urban doodling variety, we're at a breaking point.I concede advertising is clever and entertaining but there is nary a public space left where you won't find a catchy message. No place is sacred. No nook or cranny overlooked. In some Miami neighborhoods the messages appear in three languages, English, Spanish and Creole aka Kreyol. Portuguese can't be far behind.Graffiti sometimes makes us stop and wonder. Think and ponder. For that alone it's better than the others combined but when it's sloppy and uninspired, more of an eye sore than anything else. Use chalk please. The worst offender is the Department of Public Works and Transportation who can't place new signs fast enough. Most we can live without. One place that has escaped the sign madness seems to be cemetaries. I guess Dead End says it all. Can't believe they missed this opportunity.The classic sign is still big, red and reads STOP. I just wish they'd heed their own dictate. Stop with the signs already!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
