Ranking the Seventeen (and a half) Rankin-Bass Christmas Specials

At this joyous time of year, the television screens are lit up by the sights and sounds of the Christmas season. We all have our favorite holiday movies (‘Miracle on 34th Street’, ‘A Christmas Story’, ‘Scrooge’, ‘It’s A Wonderful Life’, etc.), but, of the stand-alone Christmas specials, a select few stand out from the rest of the pack. ‘A Charlie Brown Christmas’ has remained among the perennial favorites since its debut in 1965, mostly through the child-to-adult thinking process that Charles Schulz mastered as his alter ego, Charlie Brown, ponders the true meaning of the season and the faithful adaptation of his work by cartoonist Bill Melendez, who died earlier this year. The dialogue is perfectly countered by the timeless jazz-inspired holiday music of Vince Guaraldi. Three years later, MGM released a half-hour cartoon version of Dr. Seuss’ ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas’, narrated by the unlikely Boris Karloff, who also voiced the Grinch through his plan to take the holiday from the residents of Whoville, only to discover Christmas is not a thing, but a feeling that really doesn’t need toys and trinkets. These two stand out for their adaptability to the small screen for which they were made and the one-shot message they conveyed to us and our kids a generation or two later. This not to say that a couple of people didn’t try on a consistent basis. For nearly 40 years, the team of Arthur Rankin Jr. and Jules Bass, along with such writers as Romeo Muller, Julian Gardner, William Keenan and Jerome Coopersmith, among a host of others, put out over 30 animated specials for children of all ages, 18 of them (okay 17 and a half) specifically for the Christmas season. Now, when I say ‘animated’, I refer to either the hand-drawn cartoon everyone knows and loves or the use of stop-motion dolls made famous by the likes of Willis O’Brien and Ray Harryhousen. Each one was usually marked by a well-known talent stepping down a bit from the Silver Screen to narrate the tale-in-question. They were also blessed with voice actors who were true masters of their craft in the cartoon field, most notably the great Paul Frees and the lovely June Foray. Some of the specials seemed to center on a specific flavor-of the month (mostly eggnog or peppermint), but others transcended the material to rank with Schulz and Seuss to fit perfectly with the tinsel and presents of the holiday. I may be stepping out on a limb here, but here is my own list of Rankin-Bass specials from worst to first. This is my humble opinion only, and some of it is tongue firmly placed in cheek. You may have a special place for some shows that simply did not hit me in the right vein at the time. If such is the case, I apologize to you and hope this will not put a humbug in your Christmas Spirit: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 17. The Leprechaun’s Christmas Gold (1981) stop-motion Faith an’ Begorrah, but Art Carney (as Blarney Kilakilarny) breaks every Irish stereotype in the book as he brogues his way through a tale of leprechaun’s special gold that is made only on Christmas and a horrific Banshee that wants it. This is more suited for Halloween than Christmas. In that case, check out where Rankin and Bass did much better with Boris Karloff and Phyllis Diller in ‘Mad Monster Party?’ in 1968. 16. Rudolph and Frosty’s Christmas in July (1979) stop-motion Take the two most popular Rankin-Bass characters and put them in a whirlwind whodunit complete with a sinister reindeer and an evil king who wants to take control of the North Pole from Santa Claus. Even with the talents of Red Buttons, Ethel Merman, Billie Richards and Jackie Vernon (Rudolph and Frosty, respectively), Mickey Rooney and ex-‘Laugh-In’ regular Alan Sues, this plot is a bit complicated for even the kids this was aimed for. Its only draw was seeing Frosty as a stop-motion doll for the first and only time. Still, it’s far superior to 2001’s computer animated straight-to-video ‘Rudolph and the Island of Misfit Toys’, which, you will be pleased to hear, was NOT an R-B production. 15. Pinocchio’s Christmas (1980) stop-motion This production stars Alan King as the Maestro Fire-Eater, and George S. (Heat Miser) Irving as Gepetto. From what I remember, this pretty much skirted several Disneyesque issues in the puppet-boy’s search for a Christmas present for his father-creator. Lesson learned: ‘Don’t mess with the original’. 14. The Stingiest Man In Town (1978) cartoon The placement at this level is not for the content or its stars (narrator Tom Bosley as ‘B.A.H. Humbug’, Theodore Bikel, Dennis Day and Walter Matthau as Scrooge), but for the level of advertising. For all its worth, this animated remake of a 1956 TV musical was barely heard about till long after it was gone. That alone puts a waste to all the artwork and talent. Such a great show that no one got to see…twice. 13. The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus (1985) stop-motion This rendition of Santa’s early days is a far cry from ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’. Based on a story by L. Frank Baum (‘The Wizard of Oz’), this much darker version tells of Claus (Earl Hammond) and his battles with King Agua in his quest for immortality to continue to spread joy and presents to children everywhere. It looked a lot like their animated version of ‘The Hobbit’ back in 1977. Not necessarily bad…just a far cry from their regular Christmas fare. 12. Frosty’s Winter Wonderland (1976) cartoon Andy Griffith recounts the tale of how the kids of a small town took it upon themselves to build a snow-wife (Shelley Winters) for a lonesome Frosty (comedian Jackie Vernon, reprising his famous role from seven years before), much to the chagrin of a feisty Jack Frost (Frees). I don’t know…it all looked right, but it just wasn’t the same without Jimmy Durante. It also seemed someone was in a hurry to slap something together story-wise, including (shudder) extra verses to the classic song by Griffith. This show really made me cringe, in a ‘Frozen Biology 101’ sort of way. 11. Santa Baby (2001) cartoon A little girl makes a Christmas wish to get her song-writer father out of his slump. This is a showcase for the song made famous by Eartha Kitt (who stars in the show alongside Gregory Hines, Patti LaBelle and Vanessa Williams). For the first Rankin-Bass cartoon in 16 years (and the last one to date), it tried a little too hard to mix an African-American beat into the Rankin-Bass feel of Christmas (check out 1994’s ‘A Cool Like That Christmas’ and Boyz II Men’s version of ‘Silent Night’ for a far superior product). 10. Rudolph’s Shiny New Year (1976) stop-motion It’s nice to know that Billie Richards (Rudolph) gets regular work from Arthur and Jules, but this was a bit overblown. Rudolph has to be on the lookout for the Baby New Year, who has run away because people kept laughing at his enormous ears. With the help of a crusty knight (Frank Gorshin) and a caveman (Morey Amsterdam), they must find the baby and deliver him to Father Time (Red Skelton) before the evil vulture Eon (Paul Frees) get his claws on him to stop time forever. Confused? You weren’t the only one. 9.5. Jack Frost (1979) stop-motion Okay, this is technically NOT a Christmas tale (it takes place on Groundhog Day). Pardon-Me Pete the Groundhog (Buddy Hackett) tells the story of the Man of Frost (the versatile Robert Morse) achieving human form to join a maiden with a brave knight against the evil ventriloquist-obsessed Cossack Kubla Kraus (Frees again). Kind of a sweet story with a sad ending since Jack also falls for the maiden, but has to return to his frozen invisible state to keep Winter going. I include this in the list solely because ABC Family kept putting it in their ’25 Days of Christmas’ festival. 9.0 Nestor, the Long-Eared Christmas Donkey (1977) stop-motion This is another story of a big-eared character, only with a lot more pathos. This harkens to the ‘Christ’ side to Christmas, from the point of view of a donkey named Spieltoe, (singer Roger Miller), the only resident in Santa’s stable without antlers. As it turns out, his ancestor, Nestor, who was harangued by everyone for his enormous auditory appendages, was the donkey that carried the Virgin Mary to the stable where Jesus was born. Along the way, Nestor is helped only by an accident-prone cherubic angel named Tilly (Brenda Vaccaro). Seriously, this is a well-crafted, but exceedingly sad tale, on par with ‘Bambi’ and ‘Grave of the Fireflies’. Bring your hankies for this one. 8. The Little Drummer Boy: Book II (1976) stop-motion Ted Eccles (reprising his role as Aaron, the anger-management poster child Little Drummer Boy) has better control of his issues, but has to contend with some nasty Roman soldiers (led by the great Zero Mostel), who want to lay claim to a bunch of silver bells meant to proclaim the birth of Christ. Also returning is Greer Garson as the narrator. 7. The Story of the First Christmas Snow (1975) stop-motion Yup, someone on the writing staff evidently went to Parochial School for this story. A young shepherd named Lucas is blinded in a thunderstorm looking for a lost sheep and takes shelter in an abbey headed by Sister Theresa (Angela Lansbury), where he befriends a girl named Louisa. Just in time for the Christmas pageant, he regains his sight and finds his sheep. If you can’t find the video or DVD, just read Luke 15:3-7. 6. ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas (1974) cartoon ‘Lonesome’ George Gobel finally has a family to call his own as Father Mouse, who is stirring through the quiet house because he has to contend with a braniac kid named Albert who was able to get a letter to Santa saying the town doesn’t believe in him. To keep St. Nick from passing them by, the village clockmaker (Joel Grey) builds a clock tower with a special song (‘Christmastime Is Calling’)…except Albert breaks it trying to find out how it works. There are some very special moments in here, including the sweet song ‘Even a Miracle Needs a Hand’. There’s also a handy cameo by veteran actor John McGiver as the town mayor, which fits his stolid blustery character to a ‘T’. 5. The Year Without a Santa Claus (1974) stop-motion You know, I really miss Shirley Booth. She would have fit perfectly in some of the great TV show of the 80s and 90s, besides her immortal stint on the 60s sitcom ‘Hazel’. Here, she plays Mrs. Santa. When her husband (Mickey Rooney again) says he is too sick to get on the sleigh, she sends a couple of misfit elves, Jingle and Jangle, south to drum up support for the Jolly One. Along the way, they get arrested, a reindeer gets sick and they run into the infamous Miser Brothers (Broadway legend George S. ‘Heat Miser’ Irving and comedian Dick ‘Snow Miser’ Shawn). Incidentally, the ‘brothers’ apparently stole the show enough to get their own cartoon, ‘A Miser Brothers Christmas’ in 2008, but, like ‘Misfit Toys’, it was not produced by Arthur and Jules. Shawn, best known for his stint in the original film ‘The Producers’, died in 1987, so ‘Snow Miser’ is now voiced by Juan Chioran. After some intervention from Mother Nature, a young boy named Ignatius Thistlewhite and a soulful rendition of ‘Blue Christmas’, all the wackiness makes sense and things get back on track. All in all, this is a very enjoyable hour for kids everywhere. 4. The Little Drummer Boy (1968) stop-motion Oscar-winner Greer Garson steps down from ‘Mrs. Miniver’ to tell a parable from the old Biblical days of a boy named Aaron who has just about every bad, nasty thing in the world happen to him. His only friends are animals (specifically a dancing lamb, camel and donkey…no, not Nestor) and his sole worldly possession is a drum made by his parents, Frees and Foray (before they were murdered by nomads…get the picture?) He is kidnapped by the evil Ben Haramad (Jose Ferrer) and his cackling henchman, Ali, to perform for people to make money for Haramad, but escapes long enough to join up with three wise men looking for the new Messiah. Because he doesn’t have any presents, he plays his drum for the Holy Family, who, inexplicably, doesn’t complain because some kid is doing his Lars Ulrich impression in front of a newborn. Just kidding. This is truly a great story about how even the worst anger is washed away by the Love of God. 3. Frosty the Snowman (1969) cartoon For its time and place, it was a welcome respite from the humdrum holiday variety show it replaced. Now it’s an animated marvel that still has a place on network television after 40 years. Movie legend Jimmy Durante relates the tale of a snowman who comes to life due to the magic hat of a hack magician (TV jack-of-all-trades Billy DeWolfe). If you never heard of DeWolfe, you will never forget him now. His trademark punchline of repeating words on a number of sitcoms (‘Silly, silly, silly…’) are now etched forever with the green-faced Professor Hinkle, who strives to get his hat back from Frosty (stand-up comic Jackie Vernon). With the help of a schoolgirl named Karen (Foray, who also did the voice of Cindy Lou Who the year before), Frosty makes his way up north to cooler climes with Hinkle on his heels (I love when he says ‘Think nasty…think nasty…think nasty…). Finally Santa (Frees) intervenes after Frosty is seemingly melted in a greenhouse, only to learn that Christmas snow is not like the regular frozen precipitation. This is truly a cartoon that has just about everything for the holiday spirit. 2. Santa Claus is Coming to Town (1970) stop-motion Movie legend Fred Astaire is a postman at the North Pole who is set to answer as many kids questions as he can about the birth and making of the man named Santa Claus. We learn that a young baby, wearing the name tag ‘Claus’ is found at the steps of the Sombertown mayor, the Burghermeister Meisterburger (Frees, in perhaps his best role ever), who sends him off to the orphanage, only to be lost in the woods near the lair of the Winter Warlock (Keenan Wynne). He is found and raised by the Kringle family of elves, who were toymakers to the King, and is raised in their loving environment. When he comes of age, he wants to deliver toys to Sombertown, but because the Burghermeister recently broke his funny-bone on a toy, he has outlawed them. The now-young adult (voiced by Mickey Rooney), who has taken the name Kris Kringle, brings toys to the children and falls for a young teacher named Jessica (Robie Lester), but runs afoul of the Burghermeister and his henchman, Grimsby (also voiced by Frees). He is later caught by the Warlock, but wins his friendship with a toy train, which leads to a great song ‘Put One Foot In Front Of The Other’. Because Kris is now wanted by the law, he dons a beard (as do all Kringles) and sneaks toys into homes through the attic before being caught. He escapes with the aid of the Warlock, who can make reindeer fly with magic dust (borrowed from Cheech and Chong?) and hightails it to the North Pole, but not before marrying Jessica is some weird sort of civil hippie union under the stars. He finally gets back to the baby nametag, redubs himself ‘Santa Claus’ and eventually age forces him to curtail his toymaking and giving to once a year. There are a couple of moments where the plot gets painfully dated (the song ‘If You Sit On My Lap Today’ would probably never be sung in this day and age), but this biography of the Jolly Old Elf will do just as well as anything you may have heard before. 1. Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer (1964) stop-motion The first special remains the best of the lot. Sam the Snowman (Burl Ives) tells the story of a young reindeer (Billie Rae Richards), the son of Donner, who has to make his way through a world that considers him a freak simply because of a glowing red nose. His only friend is Hermie (Paul Soles), a social outcast from the elf community because he’d rather study dentistry than toy making. Together, they leave the North Pole for parts unknown with the aid of Yukon Cornelius (Larry D. Mann) and discover the Island of Misfit Toys, where other outcasts made their way. Eventually Rudolph finds he has to go home to face his family (and his destiny) and runs into Bumble, the Abominable Snow Monster, but Yukon and Hermie arrive to save the day. When a terrible blizzard threatens to cancel Christmas, Santa finds that Rudolph’s phosphorescent proboscis is the only thing that will cut through the haze of the storm and save the holiday. Because of a letter–writing campaign, there was even an addition made a year after the first showing to display a happier ending for the Misfit Toys, who were rescued by Santa. This special has hung around long enough to cement itself into the Christmas psyche of young and old viewers alike with songs like ‘Silver and Gold’, ‘There’s Always Tomorrow’, ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’ and ‘The Most Wonderful Day of the Year’. The writing, animation and music all blend together to create a fairyland that became the cornerstone of the Rankin-Bass domain.

The Turkey Bowl Recap

“The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never ever introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you.” -Kendall Hailey -------------------- “Football is, after all, a wonderful way to get rid of your aggressions without going to jail for it.” -Heywood Hale Broun ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Springdale, AR (Family Press International) – A great nephew, though vastly underrated by the high school team he plays for, caught two fantastic touchdown passes to lead the Ahsweepes to a 14-7 victory over the Butholays in the Upteenth Annual Turkey Bowl, played on the front lawn of Uncle Larry and Aunt Jackie’s residence this past Thanksgiving. Junior center Jonathan ‘the Mean Machine’ caught the first of the two TD passes from his father, Geoff ‘Living his Second Childhood through his Children’ midway through the third quarter of play, beating out several defensive members of the secondary, including his brother, Brian ‘B-Ri’ and cousin Gage ‘Ewh Newh’, into the end zone, which was marked by a lamp post. The final TD came at the end of regulation when the Mean One connected again under heavy coverage, this time almost spilling out onto the street corner. The Ahsweepes’ offensive front lines were solidified by the imposing figure of ‘Uncle Nature Boy’ Barry, who has been known to be offensive on many occasions through no fault of his own. While Thanksgiving dinner put a noticeable crimp in his speed against the Brian-Gage combo, it was enough to hold back the attack of sack-master brother Patrick ‘The Neurotic One’ throughout the matchup (in fact, both brothers were the only ones who went back for seconds that day). Helping out their dad on offense were the famed ‘Terrible Twins’, Alex ‘Twilight Princess’ and Nikki ‘the Future Mrs. Cullen’, who played alongside Cousin Katie ‘Nail Breaker’ in the backfield. Katie also doubled rushing for several carries, but the defense of the Neurotic One, who quit smoking only three weeks before, held her to short yardage and stopped at least one embarrassing spill on the front steps. Assisting the Ahsweepes in the backfield was a harassing defense from Aunt Mel, ‘the cook from ‘Alice’’, whose sharp wit and sarcasm sent at least one opponent crying to Mommy, but she’s all better now. The Butholays were led in rushing by nephew Jeremy ‘Soy Un Perdedor’, who brazenly crossed over onto the sidewalk on several failed attempts before scoring the team’s lone score in the third quarter on a solo scamper around the front porch into the neighbor’s driveway. A review of the play showed him clearly staying within the sideline set by the Gus the Dachshund’s last constitutional. Contributing to the rushing attack for the losing side was ‘Speedball Jay’, who also played in the secondary against his wife, ‘Two-Fisted Amy’, who was playing for the Ahsweepes. Butholay center/nose guard Charlotte ‘the Virtuoso’ was instrumental in several defensive tackles, including what was supposed to be an easy run for ‘Lil’ Morgan’, but nobody told her she was supposed to get through. She was later called on a penalty for grabbing Aunt Mel’s bra-strap. Meanwhile, ‘Marvelous Mark, the Red-Headed Stranger’ was also part of a solid Butholay defensive line. Under the tutelage of Brian and Gage, the 3’6” bundle of M-80 exploded through the Ahsweepes front line several times, mostly sneek-sneek-sneeking around his dad, to harass the QB on several occasions. In a rare display of caution among all parties, the usual abrasions, bumps, sprains and broken garden pottery that set the standard for the game were noticeably absent, although Butholay line-person Aunt Leslie ‘The Eliminator’ nearly took out Amy on the sidewalk right in front of ‘Granny’ and ‘Papa’ Bill. The hosts for the affair, Uncle Larry, ‘the One True Hog Fan’, and Aunt Jackie, ‘the Second Coming’, sat out the game this year nursing a bum knee. Aunt Carla, ‘the Great Earth Mother’ was also sidelined as son Peter ‘Wii Man’ was beset with ennui because he couldn’t play video games with no one in the house. The victory puts the Ahsweepes into no post-season bowl contention, but the team did get first dibs on the sweet potato and egg custard pies at the conclusion of the game. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ -Story submitted by sportswriter ‘Red’ Ruffansore-

A Not-So-Pleasant-Valley-Sunday (or Up Yours, Thomas Wolfe)

(As it was then)

Within the walls of this house I spent early part of my childhood. It’s one of the smaller houses in the 4500 block of Grand Avenue, located between Tulane and Princeton in southwest Little Rock. It doesn’t look very big and, in truth, it wasn’t. The big window was formerly flanked by two conical cedar trees, which were eventually cut down for the flower bush you see here. That window opened into the living room. On the west side of the big window were the three bedrooms where Mom, Dad, four boys and three girls daily fought for the one bathroom located in the center of the hall. I still remember the day we installed the showerhead over the tub. It made Saturday night bath time go a lot quicker. A floor furnace was situated in the little square hall around the bedroom doors, where on particularly cold mornings you would find most of us straddled over the grate, the rising heat blowing up our pajamas and nightgowns. In the summer, there was a single large air conditioner on the east side that cooled the whole house. The rest of the time, we relied on open windows. The porch window to the east gave us a view of the street from the dining table, while those looking in could see past it into the galley kitchen and washer/dryer hookup before exiting out the only other door to the outside world, our backyard. For the record, it wasn’t always pink. Sometimes it was a dark brown. It depended on my dad’s mood and his relationship with my neighbors. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to paint... just the porch, the east side of the house and the framework around the windows and under the roof. The rest of the walls of the house were made up of a material similar to our roof, meaning it was covered in tiny glass-like granules, meant to reflect the heat of the sun away from the interior of the house. A friend of mine recently said that material might have been a form of asbestos…always good to know 30 years after the fact. My first memory in this house was climbing out of a crib in the front bedroom to catch my mom watching her afternoon soaps. This is also where the only phonograph record player and radio were located. Sometimes the TV was directly underneath the main window, other times, it separated the living room from the dining area. Since it then faced away from us, we soon became acclimated to eating in the living room and the dining table was relegated to laundry, homework and the occasional game board. I remember the occasional times I couldn’t sleep and snuck out for some late-night viewing. Back then, of course, there were only four stations to choose from and they all signed off after a certain point. Then I was forced to stare at either an Indian-head test pattern or static. I would turn the set off, watching as the glowing screen shrank to a tiny dot before fading away completely in the dark. Other times, I woke up extra early. Usually it was on a Saturday, where I had to suffer through farm reports before the cartoons commenced. On rare occasions, my parents were watching something of special interest. One morning in July of 1969, I poked my head around the corner to see Apollo 11 take off from the Kennedy Space Center on its way to the moon. A few days later man set foot on another astral body for the first time ever. Since it was late at night, I don’t remember if we were allowed to stay up and watch. There was a lot of growing up in that house, not just for me but for all of us, parents included. We learned to cook, some better than others. One time, Mom tried a recipe that called for beer to sauté hamburgers. There was a little too much beer in the mix, so on at least one occasion, some poor cow died in vain. A sister once tried to make brownies that literally bounced off the floor. Another sibling was doing Lord knows what with tomatoes and at least one found its way to the ceiling, where I think it stayed until the day we moved. I still don’t know how Mom and Dad were able to get all us kids up for school without killing at least one kid a day. The girls were allowed first dibs on the bathroom, then the boys. We made our way to the dining room where, depending on the time of year, we had cereal, buttered toast, oatmeal and, occasionally, eggs and bacon. My parents not only cooked for us, but would sometimes feed some kids down the street who they felt didn’t get the nutritional start they thought they needed. We were then all packed into the family station wagon and taken to a nearby parochial school, listening to the Mighty 1090, KAAY, along the way. Not everything was indoors, mind you. There was plenty of play time in the front or back yard or further down the street to play with the Lehmans, the Tedders, the Swindells, the Pattersons and the Greens. Often was the time the grass under the shade of the house was worn down to dirt level by the scamper of growing feet. In the winter, the same shade kept a sliver of ice-hardened snow on the ground long after everything else had melted. Among our favorite games was ‘Hot Lava’ where we took advantage of the two or three swing sets at our disposal and swung off them to stay off the ground, lest we burn our feet. Variations of ‘Cowboys and Indians’ or ‘World War II’ often had one or both parents stepping outside to see at least two children lying in a heap on the ground, not daring to show any sign of life until the all-clear was given by the winners. ‘Red Rover’ was also a big hit when there were enough of us, which was often. We got pretty tough trying to break through each other’s line. Street football was also a big hit. We pretty much kept to the ‘touch’ rules, but couldn’t resist the occasional foray into someone’s soft grassy yard where a full tackle was too impulsive to resist. We moved from the neighborhood in the summer of 1973. Rarely was the time we ever found our way back there, but it did happen. This past weekend, I took my family to the Old Mill in North Little Rock for our annual holiday pictures. As we looked for a place to have lunch, the attraction was simply too great for me to pass up. I crossed the Arkansas River to 12th Street and turned at my old Catholic school. As an anchor-reporter in Little Rock two years before, I attended the official closing down of the school after over 100 years of parochial education. The church where many of us received our First Communion remained open, but the windows of the classrooms were now covered in black paint. Finding the house from there will forever be imprinted in my head, having walked that mile or two to the house every day for seven years. A few blocks later, we came into the neighborhood. I mentally noted passing a LRPD squad car doing some investigating before we hit our old street. It had been over 30 years since we stayed longer than a few minutes, but I couldn’t help staring. So much had changed. I expected the row of tall pine trees down the street to be gone or at least pruned to some degree, but not removed completely. Many of the formerly pristine lawns were threadbare and dirty. Cars were parked not only in the driveways, but on the lawns of many houses. City trash bins were left out on the curb, regardless of what day pick-up was. Nearly all the houses had a fence. The street was barely wide enough to allow two cars to pass each other. I pulled into a house at the end of the street to turn around and noticed the place where our neighborhood ‘old lady’ lived. Every street had at least one lady who would yell at the kids to get off their lawns and was never home on Halloween, then would surprise us by being legitimately nice to you around Christmas. Ours was named ‘Old Lady Lydle’. I looked at her house…or rather, where it once stood. I saw a grass-and-debris covered plot of land with a walkway leading to two concrete steps going nowhere. I stopped the car in front of the Patterson’s old house and looked across the street. The house I grew up in was no longer there, not as I knew it. The new owner(s) had expanded the front porch east, enclosed it, replaced the walls with some sort of rock/shale siding and allowed Mother Nature to cut loose on everything else. Where there was a front lawn was now a forest. My wife tugged at my sleeve, motioning forward. Three rather tough-looking guys were sitting on the corner of the Green’s house (now a dirt mound surrounding a fire hydrant) glancing our way. I quickly took a shot of my past with my cell phone and drove off.

(As it looks now)

Why Old People Don’t Like Birthdays

As a child of the 1960s, I often wondered what my life would be like in the year 2000. I know I would be 40 for most of that magical year, but, other than that, the possibilities were endless. I, like most kids dreaming of the future, imagined Jetson-like cars soaring overhead, robots and computers serving humanity, wearing suits that would make Ace Frehley jealous, space travel for the masses (with at least one lunar base) and public relations with some alien race. I myself would be a tall man with a well-trimmed beard and flowing dark brown hair. As of last week, I officially became one year short of the half-century mark. Now, well into the 21st Century, I am a ‘big and tall’ man with flowing grey hair and a beard that reminds anyone over the 7th grade of ‘The Big Lebowski’ and under the 7th grade as Santa Claus. The only thing soaring over my head are gas prices for the still earth-bound cars, humanity serves the computer, no lunar bases, only a select group of rurals who CLAIM contact with aliens and Ace Frehley now dresses like me. A tradition in my family is that the birthday boy or girl gets to pick the restaurant where we celebrate. My son hasn’t gone beyond McDonald’s. My daughter likes a local ritzy spot called the Market Place that gives away a free dessert called a ‘Chocolate Mess’ (basically a tall glass covered in fudge with vanilla ice cream, whipped topping and a lit candle). My wife also liked this place, but I imagine would prefer a couple of other ritzier joints in town that serve wine with no kids. Me…I go for the Japanese hibachi. I like the personal surroundings as the master chef literally plays with our food, creating huge bursts of flame from the sautéed onions, slicing and dicing our meal with expert dexterity. …at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work. We filed our way into a spacious eatery named for the famous dormant volcano that most people envision when they hear the name of Japan. We entered over a bridge spanning an indoor waterfall and stream filled with large orange and white koi that looked like goldfish on steroids. To the left were a set of tables for those not intent on the hibachi experience, while on the right was a sushi bar with a few patrons enjoying the nutritional benefits of raw fish and the sharp tang of wasabi. If you’ve never tried wasabi, it is a green concoction that makes horseradish taste like mayonnaise in comparison. As a comparison, at a wedding once, I accidentally put an enormous slab of what I thought was mayonnaise onto a cracker. I spent the next ten minutes trying to claw my brain out through my forehead. We were first informed that this was a members-only restaurant (being in a dry county, establishments that serve alcohol must be registered as ‘private clubs’), so we dutifully paid the membership fee and made our way to the chef’s table, where we then had to wait until the area around the hibachi (or cooking surface) was filled. Apparently, the chef doesn’t play to a partially packed house. We made our orders. I noticed an item called ‘Sukiyaki Steak’ and asked for it. I was familiar with the song ‘Sukiyaki’ from many years ago, the first in a foreign language that reached the top of the American music charts. I also knew the word itself had nothing to do with the song. It was placed there by a stateside producer so the American audience would recognize it. Before I describe our hostess, I want to emphasize first and foremost I have the utmost respect for Japan, its people and its culture. Their traditional music is melodic and serene, the realm of theatre, especially Noh and Kabuki, is awash with originality and pageantry and the Shinto faith is a religion of honor, love and peace of mind. Despite being bitter enemies in my parents’ day, the ability of the people to rise from the atomic ashes to take their place as a world power mere decades later stand as a testament to the enduring spirit of the Land of the Rising Sun. Having said that, our hostess was a cross between a Stepford Wife and Mrs. Roboto. She had a face that seemed to be surgically fixed in a permanent smile, reminding me of the character of Joo Dee, the ever-agreeable tour guide of Ba Sing Se in the cartoon series ‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’, only not as personable. A request by my daughter for a glass of apple juice was met with the curt ‘One serving only’. Smile. My son ordered chicken strips from the kids menu. ‘We don’t cook that at station. We bring to you’ she replied. Smile. My wife asked for boiled rice instead of fried. ‘I bring to you later’ she said. Smile. A frequent patron sat next to me and wondered if the red-hatted chef would work at our table, which made me turn to notice the three or four chefs did, in fact, all wear different colored hats. The patron said the one in red was notorious for setting bonfires in the dining hall. Thankfully, once the area was filled by another family, our cook, wearing a yellow hat, rolled his wares to our spot. ‘Hellloooo, how are youuuuu? Heh heh heh! We’re gonna make some goooood fooood tonight. Heh heh heh’, he said in a voice that made me fidget in my seat and the womenfolk squirm. I’m almost positive that, in his native language and among his fellow countrymen, he is a bright, hard-working young man intent on making each meal the most enjoyable and delectable. When using English in his shtick, however, he emanated a personality that college professors would call ‘spooky’. Even if he wasn’t wearing the red hat, he must have placed second in the ‘Commit Arson in Your Own Workplace’ competition. Within minutes, the metal surface heated up and a quick spraying of cooking oil and a liquid I could only guess was nitroglycerin was squirted on and ignited. I noticed out of the corner of my eye the patron next to me moving his chair back rather quickly. I did the same. The rest were caught in the heat and blinding flash of the fireball. The chef then placed a couple of eggs on the grill, spinning them around and balancing them deftly on his spatula before breaking them and chopping them up. Then, without warning, he said to my wife, ‘Ooookay, catch’ and flipped a blob of egg at her face. I think the idea was for her to catch it in her mouth. Instead, it bounced off her right cheek onto the floor. The kids, of course, wanted their chance and met the same fate. I was adept with tossing the occasional movie popcorn, so I had a little more success, with only a stray strand lodging in my right eye. In short order, the vegetables, shrimp, chicken and beef were on the grill, spreading a mouth-watering aroma around the dining area. This was quickly quashed by the addition of some heavy syrupy substance that I could only guess would be the famed ‘sukiyaki sauce’. It all but blanketed the smell of the steak and veggies, which were then shoveled onto my plate. Lesson learned. My son had already received his chicken strips and wolfed them down, only to now be forced to sit and watch as the rest of us got our All-Star produced meal, so he sat, head bowed, as we began eating. I felt exceedingly sorry for the little guy, as did his sister and mother, who all cast sideward glances as we dropped a spoonful of our meals onto his now-empty plate. Throughout all this, the chef asked my wife at least three times ‘No friiieed rice for youuuu, right?’, to which she replied in the affirmative. Still, after he had concluded his routine and carted his ensemble away, she had not received her rice. She brought this up to the robo-hostess who came to check on us. ‘I have not yet received my boiled rice’, my wife said. ‘You sure?’, the hostess asked. Smile. ‘Yes’, my wife said. Five minutes later, the hostess came back with a small bowl of white rice. ‘Sorry’, she said. Smile. We left in a hurry once the bill was settled. No tip. I apologized to my family for the ordeal they endured at my expense. Next year, we’re trying the Gyro place downtown near the bank. Hopa!

The Cat-Hater (and the Cats who love her)

Look carefully...this is a photo that, by all rights, should never have been taken. The serene look on her face...the hand gently brushing the fur of the animal on her lap, purring in its pleasure like a well-tuned motorboat. What you're seeing is as close to a miracle as I've ever experienced. There is apparently no single animal on earth that instills as much love or hate among human beings as the cat. Famous cat lovers include Sir Winston Churchill, Muhammed (who once cut off a sleeve of his shirt to avoid waking a sleeping cat), Ernest Hemingway, Sir Isaac Newton, Raymond Chandler (whose cat reportedly doubled as an editor by sitting on his manuscripts), Florence Nightingale and a host of others, including myself (not famous, mind you, but a cat lover). There were just as many on the other side of the fence. President Dwight Eisenhower and composer Johannes Brahms took great pleasure in killing, or having killed, cats from their homes (the composer of the great Lullaby was rather adept at a bow-and-arrow in this endeavor). Noah Webster was not kind in his appraisal of cats in his dictionary, calling them a "deceitful animal and when enraged, extremely spiteful." Napoleon Bonaparte was once found sweating and on the verge of a nervous breakdown over the sight of a small kitten. Add my wife to this latter group. Growing up with three brother and a plethora of dogs in her childhood, she became quite acclimated with their playfulness and loyalty. (that's the dogs I'm talking about, not her siblings). Her reaction to cats was another matter. I don't know what occurred in her past that gave my Best Beloved such an intense case of ailurophobia. Simply put, she has no use for them and was more than likely to use a foot as a hand when getting said creatures out of her way. (Okay, a retraction...my wife would NEVER intentionally put the boots to any living thing, except maybe me, but only because I can fight back). I knew this when I married her, but like cat-loather James Boswell and his famous subject, cat-lover Dr. Samuel Johnson, we mostly kept our opinions to ourselves. In the early years of our union, the subject of pets never materialized because we were simply too busy as DINKs (Double Income, No Kids) to lend time for a muzzle to feed. It never occurred to us that other people in our close-knit family unit would ever have a say. Sure enough, within a decade our beautiful children came into the debate. Once our kids reached the age of reason, pets became an ongoing part of our daily conversation. We 'experimented' with a Siamese fish named Wally for about six months till it died and we tearfully buried it in in the back yard. Pets of the four-legged variety were not at the top of our list. My daughter was jumped by an overzealous retriever in the first grade and, hence, did not trust dogs any further than she could throw them. My son, who is asthmatic, cringes at anything on four or more legs that took the even most remote passing interest in him and shedding. A recent family reunion did quite a bit, however, to further discussion. My kids spend the better part of an evening in the same house with several dogs and cats, a number of which were of the long-haired variety. Both came away with nary a sniffle. A close family friend of ours have children in the same age group with at least two dogs. Both our kids have slowly dropped their guard faced with the overt friendliness of the pair. Mom, however, remained steadfast in her stand that while the discussions will go on, no cats will be involved. Ever! That was, until the arrival of Felix.

Felix is a yellow-eyed black cat...the kind one avoids on Friday the 13th and, sadly, falls prey to the more demonic components of the human population around Halloween.

He found his way into the neighborhood over the past summer with two others...'Dude', an overweight, green-eyed black cat with white fur on his chest and feet, much like the famous 'Socks' of the Clinton administration, and 'Kramer', a blue-eyed Siamese of equal girth.

While it appeared his compatriots were getting their daily requirement, Felix was definitely not in the 'well-fed' category.

He eventually made (read: crawled) his way to our lives in the heat of July and August. He would make his way through the neighborhood scrimping and scrounging for anything that was the least bit palatable. This included roaches (or 'water bugs' as our Terminix man calls them) and the occasional lizard. Within a week of his presence, my wife responded in a way I had not thought possible for her. Not with a swift boot to the backside or even a restraining order.

She personally went out and bought a bag of Friskies and a pet bowl.

She confided to me that, as much as she hated cats, she couldn't stand by and let Felix starve. I found this a side to my wife I had not seen before. Sure, she had always been on the front lines when it comes to compassion for those less fortunate, but this was a new one on me. As much as she detested the creatures that walk by themselves, as Rudyard Kipling famously wrote, she refused to let this cat suffer.

Soon the children became enraptured by this new-found friend, who in turn allowed them to pet him and, through the discovery of a simple shoelace, play with him. This became a good thing...the kids weren't stuck playing video games, as was the norm, but were engaged in active play with an active pet. This fact was not lost on the Mrs., who continued to supply the cat with '9 Lives', 'Purina Cat Chow', 'Meow Mix' and even a brand connected with the Disney movie 'The Aristo-Cats'. Anything but 'Iams'...that stuff is EXPENSIVE! Finally, in early September, my wife did the unthinkable...she let Felix in the house. He promptly threw up in my daughter's room, but the point had been made. After about a month, Dude and Kramer made their presence known. Sensing that there was food about, the two have habitually stopped by for a quick snack at Felix's expense (we, of course, make sure Felix is not neglected). One night, we were all watching a movie when we heard (and felt) a quick series of thumps against the front of the house. Being that all three cats are male, there was some jockeying for position in the household between Kramer and Dude, an argument which Dude won. While Kramer maintains a respectful distance from the house, the kids quickly discovered that beneath Dude's bloated exterior lies a cat very much in need of some lovin'. When petted, he responds with heavy cuddling and a purr that can be heard from yards away. While Felix curls up in a neat circle for his nap, Dude will splay himself prostrate like a frog ready for disection, as if to say, 'Pet me'. My wife will still puts her foot down on a few things...she still gets a shiver down her spine if a cat rubs up against her, which is now often. If we're sitting down to a meal or if we're going out or even ready for bed, the cat goes out. Still, there are instances of further softening of her dislike. The photo above, for instance. While one cat made his way into her heart through his sorry plight, another had charmed even the most savage breast. That's not Felix in her lap...that's Dude.

A (Fairly) Good Tale

ONCE UPON A TIME there was a girl who was wise beyond her years. She was the third child of four children and the only girl. Her father was a Methodist minister, what people used to call a ‘circuit rider’ who would become pastor at whatever church he was sent to. The little girl was born in a town called Hope, Arkansas, which would become a famous place when another resident from there became President of the United States and a third resident became Governor of the state. But she was not slated for the political trail. She was of small-to-average height for a girl, with long, dark straight hair (which, if the summer was hot enough, sometimes grew a blond streak), small but intelligent eyes and a very wide smile that made you like her almost immediately. By the time she became a young woman, she also sported a ‘balcony you could do Shakespeare from’. Sometimes she wore glasses to correct her eyesight, but not for very long. Being the only girl among four boys, she couldn’t fit in as much as she would have liked. She was as tough as any boy her age, but the fact that she was a girl got in the way more times than not. She hung out with her mom, joined the choir in her father’s church and played with her brothers when she could, which was often. Sadly, she often did not have enough time to make long-lasting friends as she followed her family around the state to places with names like Decatur, Desha, Murfreesboro, Newport (where she eventually graduated high school) and Pottsville…well, for the last town, her family went there and a lot of her stuff went there, but the girl, now a young woman, did not follow. She went to college instead, in a place called Conway. Little did she know she would stay in this town longer than any place in her life. She took up several work-study jobs on campus, one of them as a secretary for the head of the Speech Theatre and Journalism Department. It was a small office that was right next to a very loud place, which was the campus radio station. Many was the time she would be typing away at some document or official paper (which she was very good at) when she would hear all sorts of whoops and hollers from the station next door. ‘What sort of person would work in a place like that?’ she would often ask herself. One day she had left the office for the short walk back to her dorm room when she spied two young men almost literally hanging out of the radio station window. One was a tousle-headed big-boned youth with a mischievous twinkle in his eye and a happy-go lucky smirk on his face. The other was a bit more austere, a tall, lanky man with as much black hair on his head as there was on his face. He looked like the end product of a relationship between Abraham Lincoln and Rasputin. “Hi…how would you like to have a deep and meaningful relationship?’ the tall boy joked. “Not today, I can’t. Catch me tomorrow.” she retorted. This was the start of a long friendship between the two. She would later find out he was born in Memphis and raised in Little Rock before moving to Conway when he was 13. He was also a Catholic, which wasn’t far from being a Methodist, but she didn’t fault him for that. He was one of seven children comprised of both brothers and sisters. She also found he was also a bit of a changeling. One day he would cavort around in cut-off military surplus, the next time he would be clean-shaven and in a three-piece suit. She preferred the latter look. For the next year or so, she went through her life in the dormitory, making friends and even a boyfriend who offered her an engagement ring. One day, she showed it to the tall boy who, for a split-second, looked like the world ended before reasserting himself to offer his congratulations. He hoped she didn’t notice his crest-fallen look for that brief moment. As it turned out, she had noticed. The ‘engagement’ didn’t last long. A short time later, the two would meet again, this time outside of the radio station. They had both gotten parts in a school play. She got the role of a teenaged waitress while he got the role of a drunken disgraced school professor who tried to pick her up for a date. The on-stage date didn’t work. Off-stage, it became another story. As time passed, they slowly became inseparable. He would visit her at her dorm room on the weekends or she would walk the long distance to his house, several blocks from campus. His mom and all his brothers and sisters took a shine to the girl almost immediately. Even his grandmother, who was very sick at the time, said she was a lovely young lady. Her parents took a little longer to find what their daughter had found in the boy, but eventually warmed to his charm and quirkiness. I’m not saying all was idyllic with the two. There had their arguments like any two people in love would, followed by reconciliation. He was also a bit slow on the uptake with his studies, preferring to spend his time either in the radio station or in the theatre. He was even put on academic probation a couple of times so that, by the time they were ready to graduate, she had caught up with him. She was there for him when his grandmother died, and later when his eldest brother tragically died as well. He would be there for her when her own grandparents and great-grandparents passed away. He even helped her family move a couple of times and was there again, this time as a son-in-law, when her own father passed away a few years later. All in all, they dated for about five years before he finally asked her to marry him at one of his sister’s wedding reception. Or she asked him…I forget. They were married a month after they graduated college in a Catholic ceremony co-officiated by her father and by the man who would become his step-father. His best man was the tousle-headed friend who first saw her walk past the station window all those years ago. By now, they were both working at a commercial radio station downtown. In fact, they borrowed their boss’ pick-up truck to drive to their honeymoon because their own car would not have made the trip. They moved into a little grey duplex between the college and downtown. She soon found a full-time job back at the college where she had graduated barely a year earlier. He stayed at the radio station. They found a community theatre group in town and kept doing plays together. Many was the time she was called to direct a show and found a place for her new husband. She became very good at directing, even through tech rehearsals she called ‘Go To Mexico Week’. They found a couple of other places to live in the interim. One was an old house where there were more mice than people. Another was on the second floor of a quadroplex they shared with a plethora of strange and unique individuals. Over the years, other family members would get married or get divorce and re-married. Eventually, they would become the oldest married couple on either side of their joined families. Shortly after he got his first full-time job, they discovered they would have a baby. This was after doctors had told them the chances were very small they would ever have children. “Ho ho”, they laughed. The first, a little girl, was born on the first day of spring before their tenth anniversary. Less than two years later, the new family welcomed a little boy. …Which leads us to the here and now. There are still the occasional disagreements, mostly over finances or raising the children, but the great love that had flourished all those years ago is still as strong as ever. They rarely end a phone call with anything but ‘I love you’. They still go out of their way to find at least one birthday or Christmas present that isn’t necessarily new, but has a special romantic or nostalgic connection. I don’t know if they will live happily ever after, but they’ve already lived happy longer than lots of more famous couples (Cruise and Kidman, for instance). Happy Birthday, Carla!