Archive for December, 2018

Dick Summer Connection

Friday, December 21st, 2018

Today’s podcast asks for your favorite Christmas stories. Proud Podcast Person Pastor Mike has an insight that’s worth remembering. He says, “I think the problem religious people have with secular people over Christmas is that they don’t realize there are really 2 different celebrations going on at the same time. There’s the celebration of the birth of Jesus and the joys and miracles of that wondrous night, but unfortunately, over the years the story became ritualized, and made solemn: and it became a believe it or not scenario. The wonder, the joy, the significance of the gift we’d been given were lost. And people missed that. So they found other ways of expressing the joy the ritual had taken away in Christmas trees, and Santa, and Rudolph, and Frosty…and most of all in giving gifts to honor the Greatest Gift of all. Religious people hated this. ‘They’re not real’ they said. No, they’re not. But the truths they represent are very real. The generosity of Santa. The loyalty and courage of Rudolph. The magic and happiness of Frosty…those things are real. And we should bless them. Pastor Mike is my kind of Pastor.

Dick Summer Connection

Thursday, December 20th, 2018

What a feeling it was, holding my Lady’s hand, walking with her under the big tree at Rock Center when I was at NBC Radio in New York. Today’s podcast explains it…a little. Merry Christmas to you. Thank you for spending time with me this year.

 

Dick Summer Connection

Wednesday, December 19th, 2018

Please don’t forget today’s Christmas podcast. “Sgt. Preston sent a Christmas story you won’t forget:
My father was sick when I got out of the Army. His illness was why I had
been stationed thirty miles from home for my last year. That Father’s
Day, my sister and I bought him a room air conditioner to help him
breathe during the hot, humid summer. Father’s Day was just before I was
discharged, I didn’t have the money to pay half, so I bargained with my
sister. She paid 80 percent of the price. I said I would give her enough
money to make up the balance of my share before she went back to
college. When the time came, I renegotiated the deal. I told her she
could have the money I promised her, or if she waited until Christmas,
I’d give her a TV instead. The TV cost more than twice as much as I owed
her. She waited. My dad, the retired cop, was a school bus driver. But when school
opened, he was too sick to work. He was 61 years old, and he was dying.
He was basically bedridden so I bought a TV set he could watch in his
room, where the air conditioner was running to help him breathe. He did
die, in October, four days after his 62nd birthday. I didn’t want to, nor did I, forget my dad, but I changed a lot of
things so remembering him, and being without him wouldn’t be quite as
painful. Among them I bought a new car, repainted the inside of our
house, changing the color of every room, and instead of Christmas dinner
at home, I took my mother, my sister, and my girlfriend to dinner in a
fancy restaurant on Christmas Day. On Christmas Eve, I went to my
girlfriend’s family home, got down on one knee in her living room and
asked her to marry me. I’m a traditionalist, and anyway, getting back up
is the hard part. She said yes.

Since the proposal happened at her family home, they knew about it right
away. She and I went to midnight mass where she held her diamond ring up
to the lights to watch it sparkle, and I enjoyed watching her sparkle.
I’d say I enjoyed her reaction as much or more than anything else I’ve
enjoyed, ever. We shared our good news with a few friends we saw at
mass, but I didn’t tell my mom and my sister until the big Christmas
Dinner. My father’s slightly used TV became the one I promised my sister. I’m
not sure if it was because the TV was used, but I also bought her a
record player. Added to the stuff she normally carried back and forth to
college in Chicago, she couldn’t carry a TV, and a record player too.
So, I put her, her luggage, and her Christmas presents in my new, little
car, picked up my newly minted fiancé and all three of us drove off to
the windy city. From October to December, the end of my Dad’s life to the beginning of
my lifelong commitment to my wife, I don’t think I’ve ever gone through
more changes in less time before or since. But all of that is why it
remains my most memorable Christmas.

Dick Summer Connection

Tuesday, December 18th, 2018

“Hark” the Herald Angels sang. The word “Hark” got the whole world’s attention. When somebody asks you a question, instead of starting your answer with “Well…” today’s podcast encourages you to say, “Hark” instead. You’ll get more attention. Words are important. “Amazon” is more attention-getting than “Hudson” for example. Especially in December.

Dick Summer Connection

Monday, December 17th, 2018
At least for the Christmas season, when somebody asks you a question, don’t start your answer with the word “well. Today’s podcast says use the word “Hark” instead to start your sentence. For example think of the attention you’ll get saying “Hark…I’m pregnant.” It will get people’s attention. Think what “Hark” did for the Herald Angels. They even got away with rhyming “proclaim” with “Bethleheim.” As in “Hark, the the Herald Hosts proclaim, Christ is born in Bethlehem.”

Dick Summer Connection

Sunday, December 16th, 2018

Today’s Podcast is called, “The Hell With Well. If you give a listen the first word of any sentence you speak will never again be, “WELL.” Still looking for your Christmas stories at Dick@DickSummer.com.

My buddy Fred wrote a Christmas story to remember in  his blog at www.markofjszz.com. He gave me permission to put it here. Fred and I go back a lot of years. His friendship is one of the best parts of Christmas for me. This is what he said:

“I awoke to find myself in the less-than-bustling metropolis of Comstock, Michigan. No, I hadn’t been on an all night bender — it only felt that way. I had been on a fifteen hour drive with Vigi to visit her family for Thanksgiving and I did all of the ‘aiming’ for the final seven hours. It was our last chance to make the trip before winter closed in and I looked forward to spending a holiday with a house full of people once again.

Since the kids moved out and scattered around the country raising their own families, the peace and quiet I longed for while they were growing up had become deafening, especially around the holidays. Besides, things were getting kind of crazy at the radio station and we were sloshing our way through the middle of a financial rough patch at home; not the greatest timing with Christmas just around the corner.

After the obligatory slide show and catching up on several years of National Geographic, I was more than ready to prowl two of my favorite haunts in town — the only two haunts in town. It felt good not to be sticking to a schedule for a change and, in my absence, Veege could visit with her folks without being concerned about keeping me constantly entertained. After meandering through the aisles of the local Meijer’s ‘everything store’ I headed over to the one place that was an absolute, positive, don’t miss any time we made the trip: The Kalamazoo Air Zoo.

They had vintage aircraft from World War II and Korea through present day classics hangared there and many were still operational. On the right day, you could even catch a glimpse of a local pilot putting one of those two-thousand horsepower beauties through her paces! They had everything from flight simulators and a pink [believe it or not] P-40 flown by a very talented pilotress, to a mighty gull-winged Corsair — the plane that makes my heart go thump and has held the kid in me hostage ever since I first saw the movie Flat Top. You could actually walk up close enough to get a whiff of grease and oil mixed with just a hint of musty leather.

No tour of The Air Zoo was complete without a trip to the gift shop. I entered expecting to see the usual models, banners, books and displays — but what to my wandering eyes should appear but a shiny Corsair, perfect scale to the gear! She was carved from mahogany and painted in such painstaking detail that you could almost hear the roar of her engine. She was gorgeous! She was, also, $139 and I couldn’t afford to spend the price of a post card at that point.

I was unusually quiet for the last two days of our visit and most of the ride home. I am never quiet. Never. ”All right, what’s wrong?” Vigi finally ventured. ”Shows, huh?” ”Not if you’re a mime,” she answered. I told her all about the Corsair and explained that it wasn’t so much that I wanted it but that I couldn’t get it. We both had good jobs and worked hard. We weren’t extravagant. It’s not like it was a car or a boat or something — just a stupid airplane model that shouldn’t even require decision making. She reminded me that the financial rough patch was only temporary, and I stopped my whining. In my generation guys were supposed to do better than that for their families; the little airplane became a symbol that continued eating at me — and she knew it.

The remaining few weeks until Christmas sped by. Our ‘rough patch’ was beginning to smooth out and I had, at last, put the whole episode with the Corsair behind me — mostly. Christmas morning, the two of us did our usual Santa thing but when the ripping and tearing of brightly colored paper had ended, there was still one more present under the tree. She smiled and handed it to me. Unlike the others, I opened this one carefully unveiling a plain brown box. I was puzzled. Slowly I opened the flaps marked “This Side Up” — and what to my wondering eyes should appear but THE shiny Corsair! The one from The Air Zoo!

That incredible lady actually pirated all of the money from her change jar, where she had been dumping stray nickels, dimes and quarters for years, contacted the curator of The Zoo and ordered one very important Corsair for one grumpy old man. So many times through the years Vigi has lighted a torch when she found me in a dark place — and that Christmas, she did it again!”

 

Dick Summer Connection

Saturday, December 15th, 2018

Looking for stories of the season. Please send yours to Dick@DickSummer.com I’ll use some here, and some more on my regular podcasts. Here’s one from a Fordham buddy of mine, John Lancellotti:

I remember growth … in shoveled snow … tall mountain …  I little … climb mountain … slide down … clothes wet … hands cold … fingers numb … shiver … pick up snow … mold ball …  throw …. other kids dodging … laughing … mold two balls … hands warm  … one hardens …throw soft one  … high arc… kids looking up … dodging ball  … laughing  …  mold two  more … arc soft one …. high arc … kids watching ,,,  heads up … still laughing… I zing hard one … hits kid … stops laughing … mission accomplished … I feel taller.   

Dick Summer Connection

Friday, December 14th, 2018

Still a little time left to get your Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza or Solstice stories in to Dick@DickSummer.com for this blog or for the regular podcast. I want to thank whoever sent this Christmas story. And if you’re reading this right now, please drop me a note. “As a joke, my brother Mike used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must not be true, because every Christmas morning, although Mike’s kids stockings were always full, his poor panty hose never was. One year, I decided to make his Christmas wish come true. So I put on a pair of sunglasses, and slinked into the neighborhood “Adult bookstore.” I decided to buy a standard, uncomplicated inflatable lady, that could also substitute as a fake passenger in my car, so I could use the car pool lane during the rush hour. I settled for a doll called “Loveable Lara.” On Christmas Eve, with the help of a bike tire pump, Lara came to life. My sister in law was in on the plan, and let me in during the week morning hours. I filled Mike’s dangling panty hose with Lara’s legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies, and drank a glass of milk left out on a nearby table. Mike called me in the morning to tell me that Santa had finally made his wish come true, and to accuse me of having something to do with it. He said the only problem with Lara, was that she confused the dog, who kept coming over, looking at the pantyhose and bark, start to walk away, and come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Lara should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for dinner. My Grandmother noticed Lara as soon as she walked in the door, and said, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?” My brother explained that it was just a doll. “WHERE ARE HER CLOTHES ? WHY DOESN’T SHE HAVE ANY TEETH? I considered answering her questions, but I didn’t want to have to spend Christmas riding in the back of an ambulance, saying “Hang on Grandma, hang on.” My Grandfather, a great guy with bad eyesight, sidled up to me and said, “Hey Bill, who’s the naked lady by the fireplace ?” I told him she was Mike’s friend. A few minutes later, I noticed him over by the fireplace, flirting with Lara. It was then that I realized that this might be Grandpa’s last Christmas at home. The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Lara made a noise like you often hear from a bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the fireplace, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the TV. The cat screamed, I passed some cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran over, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. Mike fell off his chair. Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car. Later we discovered that Lara had suffered a puncture from a hot ember on the back of her left leg. Fortunately, with the aid of a wonder drug called Duct tape, we restored her to perfect health, so she can be with us to celebrate New Year’s Eve.”

 

Dick Summer Connection – Part 2

Thursday, December 13th, 2018

Gotta do this blog over, because I forgot to put my friend Eric the Pilot’s note in here. So here goes:

I’m thankful that I can afford to have a roof over my head with heat, lights, and high-speed Internet. I’m thankful that I live close enough to the office that I can walk to work. I’m thankful that I can walk. I’m thankful for the tiny flower garden in front of Old St. Patrick’s Church that I pass 4 times a day, pausing each time to smell its sometimes nakedly lascivious perfume, or to note the subtle stages of emergence, growth, climax, decadence, decline, and death.
I’m thankful that sometimes the nun that cares for the garden is there. As I walk by, we exchange pleasantries, and I find myself secretly wondering how such a nakedly sexual garden could be the expression of this taciturn woman draped in a veil of chastity and obedience. The tune to “Eleanor Rigby” comes to mind. I hum along, mumbling as many of the words as I can remember. Soon, it becomes an ear worm that will pester me for hours. I’m thankful that I have enough of a mind to have an ear worm, or even know what one is (though I don’t know how to get rid of one, other than to exchange it for a different one).

I’m thankful to be debt-free and, at least for the time being, to have the means to stay that way. I’m thankful for an airworthy airplane, ever ready to take me closer to heaven. I’m thankful for the strength to carry the psychological baggage I’ve accumulated without asking others to carry it for me, and that those burdens do not include pedophilia, alcoholism, drug addiction, compulsive gambling disorder, or severe debilitating depression (yet), or a tendency toward violence. I’m thankful that I so often get the whole of Gardner Municipal Airport (K34) to myself on weekend evenings, especially on Sunday nights, and that no one has yet tried to exterminate the coyotes that serenade me on summer evenings as I walk the runways. I’m thankful for my friend, Dick Summer, whose life and times have been enshrined forever in the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame; whose podcast puts me to sleep every week; and whose voice accompanies me on my weekend visits to the airport (and when the aforementioned coyotes are off-duty). I am thankful that I passed up the opportunity to mess around with someone else’s wife that day when Dick and I went to Starbucks. That is, I’m thankful that I had the luck to dodge a bullet that almost certainly would have left another deep and sickening wound. I am indeed thankful that I have what I need to survive–even to thrive a little.

Best,
ej

Dick Summer Connection

Thursday, December 13th, 2018

Today’s podcast is about Christmas. Christmas is big with me. I’ve been asking for your Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza thoughts. Please send them to Dick@DickSummer.com This is one from my pilot friend Eric, who had a really bad year. But hey…it’s Christmas.