A Hallmark Moment

Posted on December 19, 2005 by Jim

Maybe it is because TV Commercials bear the brunt of our animus about watching network TV (those repeated interruptions to watching what we really want to see) that we tend to overlook the concise creativity that can be contained in 60 seconds or less.

Sometimes we have to tip our hat… because there can be more creativity in that single minute than can be found in an hour of the show we thought was going to be special.

Hallmark Cards I think has done a very good job of projecting moods and sentiment in their 60 second stories. I guess this makes sense… their business, after all, is transistorizing ideas into a brief verse or a quick tag line.

I don’t know when I first saw this commercial… but it goes back some, although I think they might take this Commercial down “off the shelf” this time of the year and put it back into play… I am not sure about this, I watch so little TV these days.

But the Ad always hit the right chord for me…

Picture a den, or perhaps a cozy living room… it’s in the evening, the glow of low lamps and the fire lit in the hearth creating a warmth for the room… Mother is at the piano, or father (or some other adult)… and there facing into a room is a small boy, hair neatly combed… an angelic quality to his voice…

Oh Holy Night!

The Stars are brightly shining

It is the night of our Savior’s birth!

We pan around the room… we see other family members, Grandparents, too… all there on the gathering of an important evening…

Fall on your knees

Oh hear the angel voices

Oh night divine

Then, unknown to the little boy, the door to the outside opens and in comes in a young adult… perhaps he takes off his coat and positions himself in back of the little boy and joins in perfect “college glee club” harmony…

Led by the light of Faith serenely beaming

With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand

So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming

The little boy allows himself to turn to catch sight of his big brother returned home for the Holidays.

Yes, it was a “Hallmark Moment” for me. Paul is 11 years my senior… what I judge to be the gap between the two brothers in the commercial…

So I could have been 9 or 10… and Paul would come home from Union and Lynn would come home from Western College for Women… and I would feel excited, and whole again, just like the little boy in the Hallmark commercial.

It is a compelling time of the year… a time to enjoy shared times present and past… and to look to times future… to new stories and additions to our family circles.

Best wishes to you all…

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Gentile Jokes

Posted on December 16, 2005 by Jim

Yes, yes I know what you’re thinking. This is going to be another tasteless excursion in poking fun at people. Stop right there! Ethnic humor is at the core of what sends us into hysteria.

Ethnic humor traces its origins to the Bible. When Moses returned from his chat with you-know-who on Mount Sinai, armed with the Commandments, he told the recalcitrant Hebrews, “settle down, settle down… I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have talked Him down to Ten… the bad news is Adultery is still in.”

The rest, as the say, is history. Today we have jokes about everybody. Even Republicans.

I have recently acquired a few gems that are variations on the theme… quickies that were originally found in the chapter on Jewish Jokes in America.

It helps if you have heard the originals…

If you don’t find these funny… don’t worry about it, you’ll have some company (probably the entire town of Darien).

Here goes…

 

A Gentile goes into a clothing store and says, “This is a very fine jacket. How much is it?”

The Salesman replies, “It’s $500.”

The Gentile says, “OK. I’ll take it.”

**********

Two Gentiles meet on the street. The first one says, “You own your own business, don’t you? How’s it going?”

The other Gentile replies, “Just great! Thanks for asking!”

**********

Two Gentile mothers meet on the street and and start talking about children.

Gentile mother #1 says with pride, “My son is a construction worker!”

Gentile mother #2 says (with more pride), “My son is a truck driver!”

***********

A Gentile man calls his mother and says, “Mother, I know you’re expecting me for dinner this evening, but something important has come up and I can’t make it.”

His mother says, “OK.”

***********

A Gentile man calls his elderly mother. He asks, “Mom, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?”

She says, “I feel fine and I don’t need anything. Thanks for calling.”

**********

A Gentile woman meets an old Gentile friend. The friend asks, “How is your son getting along?”

The Gentile woman says, “He’s just fine. He just turned 35.”

“And where does he live?” asks the friend.

“He lives at home with me. I don’t think he’ll ever get married.”

The friend says, “How nice.”

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The Yearly Holiday Inferiority Complex

Posted on December 15, 2005 by Jim

The most important Sunday of the year in the United States is Super Bowl Sunday (it’s February 5th this year, mark it down). It rarely is a good football game; but it matters not. It is the ultimate party Sunday in America, and undoubtedly all the casual gambling and office pools sustain interest in following the game even if the participating teams are of little appeal.

And you don’t have to be a football fan per se, or married to one, to get caught up in the hoopla… the pageantry of the day… all the pre-game hype… all those pre-game “human interest” stories… the cornerback with one lung who cares for his grandmother (who raised him) and is wheelchair bound, and who graduated from Amherst… the cornerback, that is… with a 3.5 GPA and had to pay his way by waiting tables and taking in laundry…

Touching… when does the game start?

Luckily, if the game isn’t interesting you can simply enjoy the television commercials. You gotta know that “Madison Ave” struts their stuff on Super Bowl Sunday. Hands down, ads on this day can launch a new company to stardom (and the ad agency responsible for the creativity).

It’s just the way it is. The Super Bowl is a magnet for the devoted fan, the casual observer & the tag-along.

But what happens if you don’t give a twit about football? What happens if you don’t know if football is played on a grass field or on an ice skating rink (and couldn’t care less)? What happens if you think that Vince Lombardi is a capo de capo, or maybe a chef on the cooking channel?

And what happens if you think all these things and you’re a man (funny how women are given a free ride on this stuff)?

Well… all I can say is it’s a bit like being a “fish out of water”, isn’t it? All of America is watching the game, or at least “partying” with those who are watching the game… and there you are sitting in the front row of the 92nd St “Y” attending a recital of Edith Sitwell poems. Super Bowl? “Who really cares?”

Sure… hide behind a cloak of disdain. Pretend that the rest of the country is pandering to the commercial interests. Turn you nose to the air and say “not for me”… or “not for me, I’m better.”

But this is not a story about the Super Bowl, nor the unhappy souls who might feel inferior for not knowing (or caring) whether football is played in periods or innings. Although the stories do relate, after a fashion.

This is a story about Chanukah, and in part, its relationship to Christmas.

First… we have a problem even before the “coin toss”.

How do you spell it? I don’t think I have ever spelled it the same way 3 times consecutively. I’m a decent speller; but I cringe when folks ask me how to spell Chanukah. I have been able to spell Christmas correctly since the 4th grade.

Next… food. Real important to Jews, no? And the gastronomic highlight for the Festival of Lights? A side dish! Latkes (that’s potato pancakes, for those who don’t know).

Don’t get me wrong… I love latkes heaped with sour cream (my kids prefer apple sauce)… But somehow Roast Prime Rib and Yorkshire Pudding is a bit more satisfying.

And how is this for a holiday activity… let’s go to the video tape… a meek gambling game with the dreidel. A game that can’t retain the interest of a person with an IQ above a grapefruit for more than 10 minutes…

Let’s open up the presents. Chanukah lasts for 8 nights… a gift on each night! That will show the Christian World who is boss.

Great… in one fell stroke we send parents into debt paying for eight gifts, and at the same time incur the disgust of the Gentile population over this gaudy display of largesse.

Then add this critical detail. Truthfully, Chanukah is not that important a Holiday in the Jewish Calendar. In our own tradition Chanukah is like a divisional game in November… yeah, it’s important; but really it is a side show for what will follow.

Still, there is beauty in the story of Chanukah… and lighting of the candles on each of the night, in its simplicity is the true treasure of the Holiday.

And then importantly, regardless of all the presents, this Holiday is dwarfed by the breadth and importance of Christmas.

And understandably so.

And I guess you can go thru life pretending that Christmas is unimportant, or that it doesn’t matter… like sitting in Starbucks on Super Bowl Sunday doing crossword puzzles.

Or, you can go into the community, confident of your own traditions… and still fully enjoy the Tree in Rockefeller Center, warm to the richness of Midnight Mass, share the warmth of your neighbors, and bid peace and good will to each who we meet.

And how different are we really anyway? In the scope of things the spirit is much the same. It’s simply a beautiful time of the year. A time that everyone can enjoy the season and share in the richness of our traditions.

And in your heart I hope that you will forgive me while I boot that dufuss in the tail for not knowing the Colts are the best team in football (and I hope that they will be playing in the Super Bowl on February 5).

Cheers to all.

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Tale of Two White Wines or From the Ridiculous to the Sublime

Posted on December 13, 2005 by Jim

For this story to make sense, this you have to know: for four years at Union College my white wine experience was confined to the slender green bottles of Boone’s Farm Apple Wine.

Consumption was an exercise in math. Road trips north to Saratoga (either to enjoy the ponies at the track or the fine young ladies at Skidmore) would require each passenger, upon embarking from Schenectady, to take on 3 quarts of Boone’s Farm (quarts being the convenient size available in this refreshing white wine).

One to drink on the way up. One to have there. One to enjoy on the return trip.

This might seem a challenge. It was. Not for the amount of consumption; but rather the unfortunate taste of the “anchor” bottle on the return leg to campus.

You see, Boone’s Farm was best consumed bone chillingly cold… and the quicker the better. If the wine warmed slightly it would thicken and then you could actually taste the wine, and/or the preservatives necessary to keep it safe for human consumption. You can see where that third quart (after a long evening in Saratoga) might be difficult to handle… am I tasting Granny Smith or formaldehyde?

For “party” weekends the math drill was put into more vigorous use. In anticipation of our dates arriving on Friday, serious studies were put aside on Thursday evening in lieu of Bridge. Our playing of Bridge was not serious; but the sipping of Boone’s Farm was. The four of us would polish off 10 quarts of wine.

Friday night we would kill 16 quarts aided in the enterprise by our dates…

Saturday we would coast thru 24 quarts… it’s what happens when you have a “pre-game bracer” before kick-off (well before kick-off).

Sunday we would finish off what was left.

It took me decades to shed these unfortunate experiences. For years every white wine I tasted was evaluated thru the prism of the fall harvest… not grapes… but of McCouns and Cortlands.

I can not pin point my white wine “epiphany”… suffice it to say that it occurred after I began working at Grapes… when I started to taste 20+ wines on a near daily basis.

After tasting a myriad of Chardonnays, mostly from California, I soon tired of the “big styled Napa Chards”… deep golden in colour, supremely rich in butter, vanilla, butterscotch, creme brulee, buttered sweet corn. The novelty of the lush huge taste would begin to wear thin half way thru your first glass. And pairing it with food was nigh impossible (maybe a loin of buffalo?).

For folks who don’t like Chardonnay… it is usually because their experience is with this form of Chardonnay… I call it “white wine on steroids”. There was a period when it seemed that California producers were engaged in a “Great Chardonnay War.” How big can we make a white wine? This is like asking how many quarts of Boone’s Farm can you go thru in a weekend.

You know… what’s the point?

But you taste enough wine and eventually all the pieces fall into place. So it was for me working at Grapes.

And like Scrooge after the visit of the three ghosts, I woke up to the beauty of a new day. In my case, the discovery of the white wine for red wine lovers.

I will make this simple for you. If you want to enjoy an “adult” white wine travel across the Atlantic to France & the home of Chardonnay. Seek out White Burgundies. Try Chardonnay wines (which is precisely what White Burgundy is) that exhibit balance… wines that offer layering of flavours blended with oak aging (no single part dominating).

And it is this extraordinary balance that gives these wines their distinctive character. Wines that combine richness with elegance… wines that don’t bombard the senses; but rather seduce the senses… wines that draw you in.

The “buy in” for Burgundy is not cheap. Grand Cru Burgundies are hard to come by and are pricey indeed (but oh, what a treat). But 1er Cru are more readily available and can be obtained for around $50. Look for Puligny-Montrachet, Meursault or the “insiders” wine: St. Aubin (which can be had for less).

But regardless of the “stripe” of White Burgundy you choose… do not over chill the wine! Good Burgundy should be enjoyed and savored slightly cool. Serving Burgundy cold camouflages both bouquet and flavour. It would be the equivalent of slathering a prime cut of beef in ketchup.

Here is another simple “Rule of Wine”… quality red wine, even great red wine, is a dime-a-dozen. You can find reds all over the place at every price level. Not so with white wine.

When you taste something as good as White Burgundy you don’t forget it.

And if I’m lucky enough to reach the “Pearly Gates”… and if the angels give me a glass of Corton-Charlemagne while they take care of my paper work… then I’ll be twice blessed.

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