I'm glad I was born in the 30's

Why, time moved a lot slower then. This was, without question, the SHORTEST Summer I have experienced. It used to be a LONG TIME between the last day of one school year, and the first day of the next. Some people used to rent a cabin on a lake somewhere for the whole month of August. Now, you can't, school starts in August.

The "Long Hot Summer" is now just a  blink of the eyes. A month ago, Walmart started their "Back to School" displays and I thought they had jumped the gun, but no, school around here starts tomorrow. Halloween costumes are already on display, time sure flies.

No, I get to live a lot longer than kids of today will, can't explain it, but it has to be true.

Football season is right around the corner, colder weather, then Winter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and it will soon be Easter. Don't forget the World Series and the Super Bowl, hey, it will soon be Spring.

My memories are on old photographs, taken on a Kodak Brownie, developed at the corner drug Store, and pasted into scrapbooks, viewed on many occasions  whatever the occasion, when company or relatives came over, the scrapbooks came out, they still do today. They will last forever.

Now look at what they have for memories, discs, what a shame.

Toyland

I get in sad moods, frequently, I am old, 77, not too many years left, and the older I get, the more I realize that somethings I dreamed or thought of as a child will never come to pass. I apparently am in one of those moods. I don't live in the past, and I try to keep "memories" in the back recesses of my mind. If you sit and think of all that has "gone" in your life, or out of your life, it is depressing.

For some reason the words to "Toyland" just entered my mind. Maybe it's the snow out, or something triggered it. The words sadden me, almost to the point of tears, if I think hard about them. The last line especially.

Christmas memories for  a kid are wonderful. The awe of Santa Claus, the tree, the odors and the smells of Christmas. Candles, tree lights, trimming the tree, Christmas Morning, all great, warm childhood memories.

Toyland. Toyland.
Little girl and boy land.

While you dwell within it,
You are ever happy then.


Childhood’s joy-land.
Mystic merry Toyland,
Once you pass it’s borders,
You can never return again.

That is really sad when you think about it. A lovely time and place that you can never visit again.
These moods generally pass after a good nights sleep.

I guess I should head for bed. I will listen to the news on the radio, then I can get depressed about something else, but it  puts me to sleep.

What am I thankful for this Christmas, you ask?

At 77, I am still reasonably healthy, don't do a lot of productive work, and I feel like I am probably in my 30's or 40's. My scars, appendectomy, vagotomy, kidney stones, cyst on the colon, many scars from laparoscopic surgery, and, OH yes, the triple by-pass, probably indicate that I am closer to 77.

My lovely wife is still with me, won't mention her age, looks good, and still works a few weeks around Christmas at Harry and David. She is a Cancer survivor and Mother of two. I am thankful we are still together and both have good health. Thanks, in part, to a number of pharmaceutical companies. Not sure how many pills we both take, but quite a few.

Few, to no, ripples on my pond of life.

Amanda, my granddaughter is going to have a baby girl, any day now. I will be a great-grandfather. That is probably redundant, whether you agree or not, Jim.

Melissa and Robin are well, as are all their dogs and cats, birds and that other critter. Brandon is well and doing good in school. He is as tall, or taller, than his Dad.

Brad, my son, who is with Whole Foods, will marry Bernie this Spring. We hope to be there, at The Would, in Highland, New York, one of the owners there is Debra Dooley, another Daughter. We met Bernie this Summer, and she is a perfect fit for the family. A "hello" was all that was needed, she became a Dooley, instantly. Debra and Lisa, along with Claire and others, keep The Would running. If you stop in for lunch or dinner, comment on the new carpet. Be sure to ask about

Dean, my eldest son, along with his wife, Robin, or "me" as she uses as her Email address, take care of Zack and Ashley, their two kids, and Rollercoaster Studios, in East Hanover, New Jersey. I miss going back there and getting in their way while they are trying to work. My year-end highlight reel always included a trip there, playing "floor director" at the New Jersey segment of the UNCF show that Dean was involved with. I miss seeing Pat Battle and Asa Aarons, and Jack and Tommy and others. Many fond memories of New York and New Jersey.

I am thankful this year to have been re-connected with an old very good friend from California, Ernie Moody. He was a big part of a portion of my life in the 50's. We did a couple of years together in the Navy. He called one morning, out of the blue, asked if I remembered him, which I not only did, but a floodgate of memories was opened on a part of my life almost forgotten. Another piece of my "life puzzle" fitted in to place. It has been great conversing with him.

All in all, not a bad year. I find myself still "recovering" from my surgery of a few years ago. They don't really know what all a patient will "suffer" during that long period of time where the body is, "out of touch" with the world, I guess is as good a term as any. Physically repaired, but no one knows how much "head" damage was done. Some emotions lost, some others sneak in. The lost ones seem to come back, a little at a time.

Christmas does not generate all the emotions that it did when I was a child, or when I had children to inspire with that Christmas feeling. "Backward turn backward, oh time in thy flight, make me a boy again, just for tonight," always pops in to my head at sometime during this season. That excitement and anticipation can never be restored. I must admit that I am at that age where the "day after" is welcomed, more so than the "day" itself. There are no "old memories" of the day after Christmas.

I think some of those "not so privileged" countries have it right. Families lived together or nearby, lived in the same house all those years, forty family members in for dinner, sitting on front porches, sitting together in church, grandfathers, fathers and sons, living in close proximity, sharing their lives. What a shame the world has gotten so global.

We miss out on so many opportunities to "create" so many fine, fond memories.

"Backward turn backward, oh time in thy flight. Make me a boy again, just for tonight."

Christmas Memories .....

I'm glad I have these memories, unfortunately, kids today can't experience all of them, they have been taken away from them.

Late 30's, Dayton, Ohio, Christmas Time. Generally, the last day of school before Christmas Vacation, at Emerson Junior High School, the whole school would go to the big auditorium for a Christmas Show. The big junior high kids would put it on.

I remember on stage, Mary and the Baby Jesus, Joseph, the Inn Keeper, the Three Wise Men, the big star hanging over the crib, songs like "Away in a Manger," "Oh Holy Night," "Silent Night," all the great Christmas songs were sung. Everyone generally got a candy cane, or some "goody" to take home.

It was a big part of the whole Christmas season for me. The toyland at Rikes, our big department store, Santa being there, talking with him, and that model railroad layout they had. My eyes were about the level of the tables the trains ran on. I remember one curve, coming out of a tunnel, the train would come right at me, and then turn, to go over a bridge.

Santa's helpers were always there in proper dress, a sea of white, with green trees and red lights. They transformed the toy department in to a "Winter Wonderland."

The windows in the front of the store, each one a Christmas story, most were animated, and they were the same each year, but they were always new and magical because of the season of the year.

Always, one of the days before Christmas, Mom and I would go downtown for our "day." We would take the old Brown Street bus downtown to Rikes. Gaze in wonder at all the decorated windows, then inside, I still have that aroma stored up in my head, and the noise and the hustle and bustle of the crowded store full of shoppers. No malls then, you did your shopping in a "department store." We had two in Dayton, Rikes and Elders. Rikes was always the special one.

On to the elevator, which had an operator that controlled that up and down switch. They were good, they generally stopped at the exact spot, aligning up the elevator with the floor. Occasionally you would hear a "Watch your step," but not very often.

Then off the elevator and in to that "Santa Land," the whole toy floor was transformed. It was awesome to a little boy my age, all wonderful and mysterious. All the Santa helpers, the decorations, the trains, the trees it was truly "Christmas Time."

A trip to Rikes, the Christmas pageant at Emerson, putting up the tree on the 18th, going to Church, and the Christmas Service, on Christmas Eve, going to Geringers, a Dentist who was a good friend of my Dads, we visited them every Christmas Eve. Then home, put out the cookies and hot chocolate, to bed, and then the "wait" for Santa to come.

Christmas at 319 South Brown was something special in those days, late 30's. I think my Mom and Dad, after many frugal years of college, pre-med, med school, internship, residency, were financially better off than previous years, and Mom occasionally got carried away. "I think I have more for Bud, than Joe."

So off to the store for more for Joe. Later, "I think I have more for Joe than Bud." That went on and on for a few weeks. Mom hid things around the house that she had purchased, and it was a big house, an attic we could play basketball in, so there were many places to hide gifts. It was not uncommon, in July, when looking for something, to find a forgotten Christmas gift that was hidden too well.

We got up early on Christmas morning, and often opened gifts till noon. Even with Mom's warning of "Let's just open one gift at a time, and take turns so it is not over too soon." Mom loved her family and family occasions, and hated to see them end.

The house on Brown Street is gone, Mom, Dad and Bud are gone, schools can no longer have Christmas Pageants, the department stores are all gone, sitting around the old Philco radio listening to special "Christmas Shows," all gone. What a shame for the younger generation, but hopefully they will have their own memories to look back on.

Thanksgiving Eve 2009

"Backward turn backward ............." I now have 77 Thanksgivings to remember, well, not the first few.

I remember many at 319 South Brown Street, in Dayton, Ohio. A big old house, tall ceilings, big rooms, I vaguely remember those, I was 11 when we moved to Oakwood. I mostly remember Jessie Maud Shannon Dooley, my Mom. she loved holidays and family, they were precious to her. She was never happier than when she had the whole family around her for a Thanksgiving Dinner.

She had table items just for specific holidays. Turkeys, pilgrims, a small horse drawn carriage, special dishes and plates, and always, too much food. We always ate early so we could help get rid of some of the leftovers in the evening.

I always liked to see Thanksgiving Day come, it meant Christmas was not too far away. What a great time of the year, Fall, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Most of the years memories revolved around that time of the year.

I think in the 40's sometime, we started watching the New York Parade, followed by the Lions football game, all black and white, and I think some of those memories were in front of the old Philco radio, rather than a TV.

I think I can reflect and still capture those aromas that came from the kitchen, sneaking out and taking a bite of Mom's dressing, and if early enough a bite of some turkey parts.

I think I liked the leftovers as well as the dinner, more informal, could use your hands .... that's when I developed my love for cold turkeys, cold turkey and cranberry sauce and leftover dressing. That dressing, Mom let the bread dry on a cutting board, would boil parts of the turkey for stock, and then to top it off, that rich broth in the bottom of the roasting pan. It was one of the very old, domed top roasters, this one my great grandmother had owned. It is in New Jersey now, I hope it gets used tomorrow. I have her backup one, will do a ham in it tomorrow. Boil celery and onion and butter in that rich broth and pour it over the dried bread, into a big roasting pan, and into the oven.

I think I was generally full, by the time the dinner call came. I guess I ate more before and after the actual dinner, didn't have to mind my manners as much.

One Thanksgiving stands our in my mind. Late 50's in Reno, Nevada. I was working at the Primm, got off at 11 AM, stopped for a festive drink at the bar. Jim Jones was there, we talked, he had no place to go, so I invited him home to dinner. Well, Reno, a lot of divorced gals and single guys, all alone. So, I started inviting them home for dinner. I got home early enough to warn everyone. We went out and got more of everything .... and around 3 or so, they started coming in. Two people had stopped and somehow picked up two large cooked, still hot, turkeys. Everyone brought something, we had an abundance of food. We used card tables, stuff we borrowed from neighbors, but we all got around a large table. I'm thinking there were 16 or more for dinner. One gal, who was a 21 dealer at the Primm, recently divorced, before we started eating, asked if she could say grace.

This was a pretty wild bunch, some professional gamblers, crap dealers, 21 dealers, 2wheel dealers, 3 keno writers, one boxman and a floor boss. Some had grown up in the "rackets" so to speak. I will never forget her prayer. All heads bowed, very reverent, and all thankful that we had all somehow gotten together for this meal.

Everyone hated to leave after dinner, we all just sat around in groups and talked. None had family's in the area, some had none at all, but that group became family, an many sat and talked till late in the evening.

My next shift at the Primm, it was the talk of the club, those that weren't there were jealous, and those that were, talked of the great time we had. Everyone thanked me, again and again. One old boxman, Jack Bailey came up to me as we were getting off shift, took my hand and said, "I really want to thank you for yesterday, it was the nicest Thanksgiving I ever had."

It was a memorable day, obviously one I will never forget, and I am sure tomorrow, any of that group that is still left, will be thinking of that impromptu Thanksgiving Dinner they had in Reno, way back in the 50's.

Proustian Memory ......

I found this article on the internet, I am going to get some PLAY-DOH today and see if I have the same reaction ...... Play-Doh was originally to be a wallpaper cleaner ...

I pop the lid on a new can of Play-Doh and after emptying its bright blue contents, place the can to my face like it’s an airplane oxygen mask. I inhale deeply and then, as if actually on some magical aircraft, I travel to a different place. At once I am at my parents’ dining room table. I can see the pattern of the tablecloth, I can hear my mother in the kitchen behind me and I can taste the cherry Kool-Aid––the drink I used as a chaser after I ate a super-salty morsel of Play-Doh. It’s a wonderfully vivid visit, 30 years in the past.

Scientists call my trip a “Proustian Memory,” named after novelist Marcel Proust, who, in a 1913 novel, described how the smell of a certain cake dipped into lime-blossom tea had caused a flood of powerful memories. We now know there’s a biological reason for what Proust described and what Play-Doh delivers. The sensation of smell, the retrieval of memories and our emotions, are all processed on the right side of the brain and are, therefore, closely linked.

According to aromatherapy experts, that link has the ability to reduce stress, increase energy, and restore the lost balance of the mind, body and soul. Of course, they’re referring to scents like nutmeg and lime-blossom tea, certainly not Play-Doh.

Yet, give any surly adult a sniff of this magical modeling compound and you’ll witness a transformation as remarkable as any from the most fragrant frankincense. The pleasant aroma of Play-Doh can move us and yes, restore our lost balance to mind, body and soul. It smells a little like almonds, a little like grammar school, and a whole lot like childhood.

WOW, I can relate to this ...............

R. D. Dooley, M.D. - Part 1

Years ago, before my Father passed, he and I sat down and recorded some memories of his life. It is worth reading. I will periodically print some of it here. So check back often.

INTRODUCTION
As you will find out, my Father was a Doctor, and even though we had a close, nice, normal family life, being a Doctor, during my early years he was in General Practice, with home and office together, and then he went into Obstetrics, which takes even more time. I have many pleasant memories of my childhood.

Later on, after he had some health issues, he spent some time in a nursing home. Some of my most pleasant memories of him, oddly enough, were during this time.

A Doctor has people waiting on him, hand and foot. Nurses, secretaries, assistants and more, all at his call. But when he was in the nursing home, he was dependent upon me. I took him a nice breakfast every Sunday morning, visited him often during the week, and during much of this time, he was bedridden. So, we talked and talked, something that had not often happened because someone was always busy doing something.

Many of the incidents mention in this book, we talked about. Some I had heard before, but not in detail, and maybe being in a hurry, did not pay as much attention to the details.
That is when I suggested to him that he jot these things down, get them on paper, and inasmuch as I was in the printing business, I had the resources to do the typesetting, and ultimately print the book.

The first issues, was set on a pair of Freidan Justowriters, an early typesetting system, punched out on a 1” yellow tape, and then run through a reproducer, actually, old IBM typewriter type equipment. It was what we called “direct output” which meant no room for error. So, the first book had a number of errors, but still, the fifty or so first ones, went fast to family and friends.

This book, was set from a corrected copy, which had many scribbles and notes
I wanted to get recorded some of these incidents of his childhood, that would be unknown, after his passing. Thus this book. In many instances, he will refer to me, Joe, and Bud, my brother and perhaps other family members. He basically was writing this for my brother and I.

Dean Shannon Dooley and Joseph Bradford Dooley