Tag: Jimmy Hoffa

I Miss My Pink Bunny Slippers And My Jimmy Hoffa Report

“Memory is the diary we all carry about with us.” Oscar Wilde

Some fond memories we hold dear aren’t necessarily life changing by any means.

They may be small, quiet and warm and bring a smile to our face at times of need. Memories appear suddenly from a smell, a song or seeing the face of someone on the street.

There are those memories we all seem to share like family times together, picnics, days at the beach, skiing or building a snowman. Perhaps seeing the Beatles or Elvis on Ed Sullivan the first time.

Jumping into a pile of autumn leaves after your father has raked them to the curb, or licking the beater after your mother bakes cookies.

These are the sorts of memories we all hold dear.

And then there are some that are simply reminders of times we spent in a special place. Something inconsequential and meaningless to anyone but you. Yours alone to ponder on and fondly recall.

We all have those. Finishing an unforgettable book and wishing it weren’t over. Tasting a new food that suddenly becomes a necessity instead of an unknown quantity. Giving a special gift to a favorite teacher.

Yes, these are not earth shattering in any way.

Of course there are those recollections we laugh about with others. Not because they were necessarily funny, but because now they seem so foolish.

Remembering walking in a line toward the school basement to hide from the atom bomb.

Now of course we know how foolish an exercise that was.

Not just because an atom bomb couldn’t be stopped by concrete, but because the harm done by the asbestos-covered pipes in the basement were the bigger threat.

Or having a health fear eliminated when we received that Salk polio vaccine-covered sugar cube from the school nurse.

There are also the unpleasant ones that seem to crop up at odd times like a hole in your sock in the middle of a long walk.

I choose to forget those and drown them out with the good memories. Okay, so maybe a piece of chocolate, too. Hey! This is a judge free space.

The point is as we age, we collect more and more of these memories. Our brain becomes a photograph album bursting over with moments that pop up like a digital picture frame.

It’s also true they are often enhanced by having someone with whom to share them.

I really understood that when my brother died suddenly. When a memory popped up, I couldn’t’ call him and say, “do you remember?” Three words that now bring tears to my eyes instead of reaching for the phone. I always think of him when I hear Jimmy Hoffa’s name. He’d call when someone, somewhere allegedly found Hoffa’s body and we’d laugh together. Now I smile and cry.

I know it’s good to recall those memories because they keep my brother alive and that is a good thing, despite the sadness.

Memories shared with siblings may differ from person to person, but at this age far too many of us are experiencing that loss.

But we must move on, right?

Creating new memories with our children and grandchildren they can turn to and recall with fondness is what matters now.

Sure, looking forward instead of backward is the way to see things of course. Yet, there is comfort in embracing past, happy moments that even for a minute or two returns those now gone to us once more. There are also reminiscences shared with friends.

When I was editor of the Beverly Hills Courier newspaper we put the paper to bed every Thursday. Back in prehistoric times before we switched to computers, we literally pasted each story onto boards and then sent them to the printers. It was a daylong process that involved walking around the composing room for hours.

In order to make life easier and silence my bitching feet, I would wear a pair of fuzzy pink slippers. I didn’t mind a bit looking like Ralphie on Christmas morning. Soon my friends in the community began to buy me new and unique ones. My feet thanked them every Thursday.

This memory seems so small and unimportant, but it was part of the bigger one of my wonderful years at the paper. And how lucky I was to have generous friends who gifted me with comfy slippers.

Now friends mention my slippers from time to time because it’s something they also recollect with humor.

Is it a life changing moment? Okay, well maybe to my feet. But the point is it sits in my mind and is there to share with friends or alone when I see a fuzzy pink anything now.

It’s true memories cut both ways. There are happy and sad, life changing and insignificant, positive and negative and everything in between.

But I truly think we underestimate how important these recollections are to our mental well-being and happiness.

Recalling joyful moments make us feel blissful.

Remembering loved ones, even though laced with sadness, brings them back to share a moment again.

Creating new memories with family and friends keeps us alive and vibrant, and creates a wonderful gift to leave for them someday.

For my birthday last year my family took me to Disneyland. My grandson said it was one of the best days ever. I guess, that’s the most important part of our legacy after all.

This year I’m leaning toward Harry Potter at Universal. A game of Quidditch anyone?  

Why Can’t the Elves Forget Shoes and Sew Up World Peace?

Okay, I get that shoes are a big thing for women. Actually, bigger than big, but why the shoemaker? Who voted him in to get the help? Was his cousin on the Elf Board pulling strings? Making deals? Threatening blackmail? Oops sorry, that would be Congress.

That story about the elves sneaking in at night to make the shoes makes me feel quite cheated.

Was the shoemaker the only one worthy of their efforts?

I’m sorry, but I think there are many other jobs for which the elves could use their skills. I would like to suggest a few that could be embraced by many more people than shoemakers. Nothing against shoemakers of course.

First and foremost, I believe if they are going for creative endeavors, cleaning my house would be a great start. No problem if they move the furniture and redecorate the place. No sewing required so no eyestrain here. I don’t even care if they miss a few dust bunnies.

I would never insult them by using a white glove to check their work. I’m giving total creative license as long as it’s clean. And I don’t have to clean it.

Could anyone even imagine how wonderful it would be to go to bed thinking, damn I have to get to those floors tomorrow? Then BINGO you wake up in the morning and find your home sparkling and bright. Floors so clean you could eat breakfast off them.

That’s a big yes for me.

And while we’re at it, don’t forget the laundry while you’re here in cleaning mode.

I suppose I’m being a bit narcissistic here.

There are bigger problems for the elves to fix than my housework.

If they took their skills global, can you imagine how much they could benefit mankind?

Most of you wouldn’t be surprised to hear my first choice would be for the elves to fix starvation.

I have a plan. It would take way too long to go house to house and drop off groceries.  Even if they emptied the Keebler stash in the tree. Since they’re big on the whole sneaking in at night thing, I would take advantage of an aerial assault.

They could break up into 24 teams and fly over the earth dropping coupons for food in populated areas and seeds and water in the others.

The third team could fly over dumping loaves of bread and sandwich meats, heads of lettuce and carrots and other veggies. Then cook meals for teams to pass out in every area. Like a Meals on Wheels thing.

You probably think this is a simplistic approach to a major problem. I assure you these elves are darn good at taking care of business. They could provide a great many people with food who have none.

The reason I chose the elves is because they wear pointed shoes. World leaders and governments have pointed heads. Thus, my money would be on the elves.

Moving right along to solve the world’s problems, let’s tackle peace.

I have long advocated everyone eating together until stuffed and happy then fix the problem. However, I’ve lost confidence in that solution. After seeing so many people acting like mental patients, I don’t think food is the answer. No one has been cured by eating a Black Forest torte or Lasagna. Although I admit a Cadbury egg has saved my sanity many times

I’ve decided the elves could greatly help with the nutsos. They are good at stitching so they need to sew huge nets.Then comb the earth and find all the crackpots who spend their days advocating for murder and mayhem. Including also those with many other crazy ideas, among them being, returning the United States to the Native Americans, opposing gun regulation, thinking Elvis is wandering around Burger Kings in Michigan, believing O.J. Simpson spent his time looking for Nicolle and Ron’s killer on golf courses, saying Richard Nixon didn’t know about Watergate, claiming Jimmy Hoffa will be found and taxing lean corned beef sandwiches in New York City.

After the nets are secure the elves need to find remote islands around the globe and scoop the kooks up. Then drop them off with food and supplies until the normal people can restore order from chaos.

In a short time, the lunatics may realize they shouldn’t be in the company of humans and rethink their insanity. Or go to war with one another, just because they like to, thus solving the screwball problem for good.

Moving right along to climate issues. I spoke with the elves and they said the best way for people to begin getting serious about that would be to sew Greta Thunberg’s mouth shut. The more she talks the more people think being nice to our planet is a joke. See, some things are a very easy fix.

Those elves are really on top of things. I’m thinking that Christian Louboutin is secretly an elf.

Believe me I’m not making light of the serious problems that face humanity. Still, wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone could snap their fingers and make the world right again? Hope springs eternal.

However, I do believe that so much could be fixed if politicians would have their EGOs removed. A team of elves could perform an egoectomy on these morons.

Sadly, I also understand no army of elves could ever find a way to stop people from hating. It’s become a disease without a cure. Now even more widespread and terminal than COVID.

So, it seems for now the elves will have to be content to sew shoes for the lucky shoemakers.

Perhaps soon someone will find a way to sew peace and sanity back into the fabric of the world.

Most of us would be thrilled if anyone could sneak in at night and do that job. I’ll gladly supply the band aids for their sore fingers.

Howdy Doody Needs Jimmy Hoffa

I never dreamed I’d still have to defend Howdy, but I find it beyond endurance to tolerate the smears and snarky comments leveled in the direction of my beloved friend Howdy Doody and his ilk. Sure, it’s easy to just cast aside these slights as ignorance, but that’s how these things get out of hand. So just say, “Kids, what time is it? It’s Howdy Doody time” and stand up to take a side. Doesn’t what’s right still count for something today?

It’s not just Howdy who has been so maligned but all puppets everywhere. It must end right here and now for us citizens of Doodyville who’d have gladly given up our collections of Archie Annuals for a chance to sit in the Peanut Gallery.

I’m not certain when the slight on puppets actually began, but gradually without noticing the word has taken on a negative connotation. It’s an insult to call anyone a puppet and infers someone without a mind or will of their own, dependent on a puppet master to pull the strings and do their thinking and talking for them.

Well, I never! Can you imagine that we are seeing this shift against our beloved puppet friends?

What did Farfel the Dog ever do to anyone besides tell us that Nestle’s makes the very best chocolate? And he wasn’t wrong. I can’t think of anyone I know who’d throw a Nestle’s Crunch Bar out of bed.

Puppet, yes, mindless, I think not.

Shall we even begin to think less of Lamb Chop because she enjoyed such a dependent relationship with Shari Lewis and was such a girly lamb? Don’t even get me started on Rootie Kazootie.

Puppets were a big part of our childhood and brought us enormous enjoyment. Okay, so I could see Howdy’s strings sometimes. Still his show brought us hours of great fun characters to enjoy like Buffalo Bob, Princess Summerfall Winterspring, Clarabell or Mr. Bluster, also a puppet.

Would anyone like to say anything negative about Topo Gigio, Eddie Eddie Sullivan’s favorite Italian mouse? I dare you.

Shall we malign Kukla, Fran and Ollie or The Swedish Chef? In case you didn’t know, there was no script for the Kuklapolitans and they ad-libbed on every show. I’d like to see any of today’s human stars open their mouths and sound smart without a writer to tell them what to say. Charlie McCarthy dressed better and was smarter than a great many people tweeting today.

Lest we forget a certain puppet named Senor Wences and his puppet Johnny (actually his hand) that taught us that everything was “all right” and was one of our favorite parts of The Ed Sullivan Show.

Mr. Rogers used puppets, which he created and worked because of a low budget, to teach children about kindness and how to be good people.

Puppets have been entertainers and teachers for centuries, even Punch and Judy, which I guess wouldn’t be considered politically correct today.

No discussion of puppets would ever be complete without the Muppets. Of course Jim Henson’s crew were more my children’s generation, but we watched them as a family and adults got the “inside” jokes. The characters were brilliantly drawn and fleshed out so well they took on a truly human quality.

Miss Piggy taught girls not to underestimate their own strength and abilities, and never take a backseat to anyone. Could you imagine The Honeymooners with Miss Piggy as Alice? Jackie Gleason would have been laid out flat after the first fist raise and threat to send Piggy to the moon.

Kermit was the ringmaster of the circus and as lovable and tolerant a frog as there ever could be, although let’s face it, it isn’t easy being green.

Now people bandy about the phrase “he’s or she’s a puppet” as some type of universal insult implying a lack of intelligence, will or character.

So by now you’re probably thinking, “What’s your point, Norma?”

I think something needs to be done to protect the good names of our string-attached or hand-dependent friends.

A union would be a perfect solution. If Jimmy Hoffa were still here, no one would tangle with Howdy, or his strings. And by the way isn’t it about time for the annual Jimmy Hoffa sighting?

But I digress, as usual. Our jackets would read, The Puppet Union of America or the PU of A. Being from Detroit, a big union town, my mind just went there immediately. I’m nominating Triumph the Insult Comic Dog as the president and Statler and Waldorf as the Board of Directors. The PU of A would file grievances against those who took the name of Howdy or Cookie Monster in vain and negotiate contracts, collective bargain, plus stage walkouts. Well, I guess walkouts would be a bit tricky but you get the point.

They need to be protected against the slanderous insults of those who have forgotten their glorious past, present and future.

How much less fun the world would be without the Kermies, Mr. Blusters or Kuklas. Without the Topo Gigios how would we ever know how adorable an Italian mouse could be or how strong and tough a woman could be without Piggy?

If the world wants to infer a lack of intelligence, will and character on anyone I suggest they use the word politician. Now that makes much more sense to me. Has a politician ever opened their mouth and said anything smart? Think about it.

And if you don’t believe a puppet can influence the entire world—ever hear of a Jedi Master named Yoda?