Late at Night Without A Theme

Tax season is wisping away, the end of the tunnel, if not in sight, can at least be dreamed of. Of course, there's nothing really magic about it. It's not like the end of baseball season or a school year end, or even the satisfaction of just completing the writing of a novel or the finishing of a painting. Public accounting drags on and on, relentless and unforgiving. Not being a workaholic by nature, the idea of no letup doesn't shiver me timbers with delight. We will have financial statements and compilations that we will need to catch up on. There will be payrolls. There are always payrolls. 990s will be due in May. Other returns will have been extended and dealt with as the year progresses. And then there is the summer audit season. Am I glad there is enough to stay employed? True dat. Would I like some better breaks, like I was a teacher or a European? Oh, yes, I ache for them.

----- I am in another play. Little Women. I play Professor Bahr, a German professor who is inexplicably a love interest for one of the girls. It's a little uncomfortable, what with the age difference, but I am struggling to center my part and make it make as much sense as I can.

------ Politics is frustrating, as I watch so many states commit the equivalent of economic suicide. How is reducing wages and cutting demand going to get you out of a recession? It's like watching Bizarro World. I'm hoping people are finally waking up to what it means to vote for Republicans.

------- Fringe is the best show on television right at the moment. I was so happy to see it renewed for a fourth season. Alison and I are both very excited about the upcoming premiere of A Game of Thrones on HBO. We may be in danger of building our expectations too high.

------- Sorry that this is thematically weird. At this time of year, probably the best I can hope for is just random data dumps. Best wishes to everyone!

Things About My Father

My father in suit and tie.  He was the principal of the high school I attended so I often remember him dressed this way.

My father was born in 1922.

His family had a large farm, which he helped take care of. It took him ten years to get through four years of college because he was helping maintain the farm. His father had health problems, and he was the only one who could keep it going. Even though he was 1-A during WWII, and volunteered, he was not taken because his role in agriculture was too important.

 He became a school teacher by the late forties. He did summer jobs at Kellogg’s. Even though he was very adept at farming, and Kellogg’s wanted to make him an executive, he loved teaching and wanted to  devote his time and talents to public service. His specialty was in teaching math to lower achieving students. His ability to communicate and motivate had them succeeding way beyond their own and other's expectations.

He was a leader in the theory of team teaching, and even went on public television to promote it. He also was a leader in bringing computers in the classroom, as evidenced by the National Science Scholarships he got (one of our trips was to Stanford University where they had one of the first supercomputers).

 He became a high school principal in the early sixties, of a high school that was specifically built based on his team teaching methods. He was my high school principal, but I never felt embarrassed or ashamed, because he was that good with parents, students, teachers and the community. He served for a while as President of the Michigan Secondary School Principal's Association.

 He was married to my mother in '52 and the marriage lasted fifty-six years, until her death in October 2008. My father taught me much about love and caring, about strength of character and doing what was right. Even though not a heavy church goer, he taught me more about true Christianity than any preacher or book ever could. He was a workaholic, something I could never be. He is stubborn and sometimes set in his ways. I don't remember him ever engaging me in sports. But I always know he loves me and is proud of me. He supports me in bright times and dark times. When I divorced my first wife and I thought I was scum of the earth, he came down South and gave me unquestioning love and support. Am I like him? Well. I'm much lazier than he is. I read much more widely. I'm not as stubborn. If I could be one tenth of the father and husband he was, I will have succeeded wildly.

This is my Dad sitting on a flight of stairs.  I'm not sure of the  house, and I'm thinking the picture was taken in the late 70s.

UPDATE:  My father passed in September of 2013.  I remember him each and every day, in my memories, in the large influence he has had in the lives of those he educated and worked with, in his relationship with my mother and sister, in everything he has taught me, and in the positive influences he has had on me and my family, and how his best characteristics live on through my sons.

My Vacation: Written in First Grade

My Vacation (written in First Grade and as unedited as I can do)

There are no boys in my family except me. I have a sister named Carol. My vacations are Indiana, Oregon and Northern Mich. My trip is Northern Mich. We just hopped in our car and off we went. First of all we came to a motel and we went swimming there. I think the water one foot deep. We went when it was a rainy day.

My next vacation is Indiana. We just hopped in our car again. We came in somebody's house. They said we could stay all summer. Every time Carol took a nap, I always read some books. Every day we went swimming at a swimming place.

And my last vacation is Oregon, We just hopped in our car and off we went. We went to a place where cars went way up high in the sky. It was so big that I know you would get very dizzy. We stayed in a motel. Once when Carol toyched a car, it drave off with nobody in it. And the man who owned the car chased after it. He got it in time. When we came back we stopped at Yellowstone Park and a bear put a hand through the window in a mans and woman car. The lady sceamed and quickly shut the window. Then we went to the Paint Pot. We saw a giant buble earthquick. We took a picture of it.

The End.

Summer of 67

Summer 67...my first big trip out of the United States...went to the Montreal Expo. Huge pavilions for many countries, one of the last really special World Expos...we were in a trailer park miles away, came in by bus...first time I was around a lot of people that didn't speak English, found it disturbing I couldn't understand what people were saying.

Summer 67...my comic habit is now full grown. And I have grown to Make Mine Marvel! To my usual love of the two-in-ones (like Strange Tales) I regularly get The Amazing Spider-Man, Fantastic Four. I also sample The Avengers, Daredevil and whatever else Marvel offers. DC is now primarily Adventure Comics featuring The Legion of Super-Heroes.

Summer 67...historically, the Summer of 67 is known as the Summer of Love, the height of hippies, free love, the blossoming anti-war movement, psychedelic rock, Haight-Asbury. Somehow at 12 years old, I missed all this.

Summer 67....we joined a club of people that had Holiday Rambler travel trailers. Once a year they would hold a national rally. That year it was in Kentucky. People from all over the country were there. As shy as I was, I got to meet kids from all over. Including a girl from South Georgia.


Summer '67.....at the Kentucky Trailer Rally, I met a girl from South Georgia. I don't remember the name of the town, but it was very close to the Florida border. She was pretty, and how shall we say, more developed than most girls her age. She hung around me and my sister, and this other guy from somewhere else. I thought it was me she wanted to hang around with, but it became clearer that it was actually the other guy. Shy as I was, I was determined to assert myself. Then suddenly, we were called back home and everything changed.


Summer 67....we were called back to Michigan, ending our Kentucky trip. I did manage to get a pet, a horny toad that looked like a Triceratops. I put it in a box and took it with us. We stopped at a rest stop, I took it out still in it's box for air. A few miles back on the road I remembered where I left it. We had to get to Michigan, my father couldn't take the time to retrieve it. I still think of that poor horny toad, stuck in a box at an Ohio rest stop.

Summer 67...we had to rush home early from our Kentucky vacation because my beloved Grandma Martin was hospitalized with a return of a cancer that we thought she had beat. The doctors only gave her two months to live. I was determined to do whatever I could to prevent that.

Summer '67....the doctors gave Grandma Martin two months to live. But I knew the power of prayer and positive thinking could change things. I prayed, I read the bible, I was as good as I could be, I did everything methodically and ritualistically. All in my belief that a miracle could occur.

Summer 67...while Grandma Martin was desperately ill, the teachers decided to strike. My Dad was a negotiator for the other side. I thought unions were awful, puling my Dad away at a time like this. Without school, we continued to stay with Grandpa Martin at their lake house in Howell, Michigan. Damn, selfish teachers.

Summer 67...Hospital rules must have been different then. I only remember getting to see Grandma Martin once while she was there. She said so you want to be an actor? I said no a lawyer. She said it didn't matter. What was important was to be polite, respectful and caring in whatever I did. And to the best of my ability, even with being bone shy, I have always tried to do that.

Summer 67....the doctors gave her two months. I prayed and did everything I could for a miracle, to give her more time. Grandma Martin got two months. To the day. Not one day less or more. Fair or not, this would put a major wedge between me and faith in religion for many years to come.


Summer 67...my father had taken us to the funerals of two other distant relatives in order to help prepare Carol and I for my Grandmother's funeral (he did not operate under the delusion of a miraculous recovery as I did). It didn't really help.

At the funeral, someone from the school system came up to my Dad and told him that the teacher strike was over. My mother was furious that someone would bring up business at a funeral. I have been cautious of that ever since.

There was an outdoor luncheon after the funeral. That was the part that disturbed me most. My Grandmother had just died, and people were using it as an excuse for a social get together. It seemed like people were laughing and talking about anything but Grandma. I didn't understand. But as I've gotten older I have come to a better acceptance of this. Everybody grieves in different ways.

This all happened a long time ago, but I will always remember her genteel spirit and unconditional love, and I like to think that is an important part of what positive traits I have. I will always remember and cherish you, Versie Martin.