Caught At Christmastime

In regards to my last blog, someone pointed out I took the gist of it from one of my favorite Christmas films, The Bishop's Wife.  I admitted this was true, as it's a wonderful lesson, albeit from a motion picture.

Peter Falk and Valerie Bertinelli in
'Finding John Christmas'

Many of our films having to do with Christmas have outstanding lessons, whether or not we pay attention to them.  Take Miracle On 34th Street and 'A Charlie Brown Christmas.'  Both deal with the way we have allowed the holiday to be so commercialized, forgetting the real meaning of Christmas.  And the latter has the most inspirational scene in a Christmas film when Linus explains the real meaning of the holiday to Charlie Brown under the spotlight as everyone is as quiet as a church mouse.

It's A Wonderful Life is considered a Christmas film, and lets us know we are not alone, although we often think we are.  The inscription Clarence writes in the book he leaves for George sums it all up.

3 Godfathers is an overlooked Christmas Western, telling of the Three Wise Men put in the West, as they care for an orphaned newborn.  It's a terrific look at the birth of the Christ Child, and a wonderful look at responsibility and keeping one's word, no matter the cost.

The Man Who Came To Dinner is a hilarious look at an extremely gruff man who intercedes in others' lives, even when they often don't want him to.  Although he comes across as a grouch, we as the audience see that he does care for people, but doesn't want them to realize it.  We learn that people aren't as they seem to be.

As I stated last year, my favorite Christmas films are a trilogy made for television:  'A Town Without Christmas,' 'Finding John Christmas,' and 'When Angels Came to Town.'  They have two things in common--Peter Falk as the angel Max, and letting us know there is someone who cares for us, even when we think we are all alone in this world.  Never have I been able to watch one of these with dry eyes.

So, as the holiday approaches and we remember the Reason we celebrate Christmas, I hope you enjoy a few of these.  Maybe you'll see a few of the lessons in the films and find a few others.  If you do, please let me know. 

In the meantime, Merry Christmas.

The Empty Stocking

Black Friday and Cyber Monday have come and gone.  Many of us have started on our Christmas shopping.  Some who plan for the future have even finished it, and begun on next year's. 

We know that Aunt Martha wants a new purse, while Cousin Henry needs a webcam.  Your daughter is impossible to shop for, so she gets a Wal Mart gift card, and so forth.  The presents bought and wrapped, you mail a few, and put the rest under the tree for now.

But what goes in the empty stocking on the mantle?

You don't have an empty stocking?  You should.  You see, families have stockings for each and every member:  You, me, Grandpa, Aunt Minerva, Uncle Fess, Cousin Henry, but very few of us ever remember to leave another stocking for the One whose birthday we celebrate.  And when you think about it, He received the first Christmas presents.  So why should that change now?

What are you giving Jesus for his birthday this year?  Your first thought is He has everything, being the Son of God, but everyone should get something for their birthday.  Think about it.  Give Him a gift, and when you contemplate, you'll know it won't be able to match what He has brought us, but He won't care.  He just likes to open packages.  Your time is something He really likes.  Give to your church or a charitable foundation in His name.

Your Christmas shopping isn't done yet.  Put something in His stocking this year.  Don't let it be empty.

Mizpah.

Drop It



Elia Kazan

 Elia Kazan was one of the finest directors Broadway or Hollywood ever produced.  On the stage, he brought us hits such as 'All My Sons,' 'A Streetcar Named Desire,' 'Cat On A Hot Tin Roof,' 'Sweet Birth of Youth,' and 'The Dark At the Top of The Stairs.' In Hollywood, he produced such classics as A Tree Grows In Brooklyn, Boomerang!, Gentleman's Agreement, Pinky, A Streetcar Named Desire, Panic In the Streets, Viva Zapata!, On the Waterfront, East of Eden, Baby Doll, A Face In the Crowd, and Splendor In the Grass.  He won three Tony Awards and two of his movies won Best Picture.  In short, the man knew what he was doing.

When Kazan was honored with a Lifetime Oscar, it created quite a stink, as he had testified before HUAC, being a former member of the Communist Party.  As Richard Schickel--who states he himself is far to the left--says, people today treated Kazan as if he named liberals, not Communists, forgetting there is a vast difference.  People came out of the woodwork, stating the director had 'ruined their lives' had never even been named by Kazan.  They merely wanted their ten minutes of fame by the director.

Well-known liberals such as Ed Harris and Nick Nolte made their disgust for the award known, and at the ceremony, made a show of not applauding.  It was considered 'making a stand.'  Another well-known liberal, Warren Beatty, refused to dishonor Kazan, pointing out 1)  the director was the one who gave him his start in the movies and 2)  Beatty didn't know what he would have done under the circumstances.  Thus, he was one of the few honest people around at the time.  To keep the peace, Beatty also went to a ceremony honoring those who had been blacklisted.

Director Edward Dmytryk was a member of the 'Hollywood Ten' who recanted, and wound up testifying before HUAC, naming names.  He got his career back, going on to direct The Caine Mutiny, Broken Lance, Raintree County, The Young Lions, and Warlock and wound up losing friends.  Yet history has not damned him the way they have Kazan.  Dmytryk eventually wound up writing a book, Odd Man Out:  A Memoir of the Hollywood Ten.  It is considered to be one of the few honest versions dealing with what happened then.

If you want to judge these men, that is your right.  But read all the facts.  If you don't like their politics, that is your right as well.  But get every bit of information you can.  Those were difficult times for this country, and many who have cursed these men and others weren't even there.

As the line from old time radio goes, "Vas you dere, Charlie?"

Why Just One Day?



Kirk Douglas

 This must be my month for Kirk Douglas stories.  But they seem to fit, so I'm not apologizing. 

In one of his books, he wrote of how he was serving as an emissary of the United States, and was eating a meal of grubworms with a tribe.  He turned to the tribal elder, saying, "Today is Thanksgiving in my country.  We give thanks for what we have today."

The man replied, "We give thanks for what we have every day."

Douglas wrote of how he suddenly felt very small.  This man, who literally had nothing, was grateful for what he had, including a meal of grubworms. The same for everyone in his village.  Douglas, who made a good living, gave thanks once a year, as do many of us Americans.  He learned something that day, and hoped to pass it along in his book.

Like the actor, I too felt tiny upon reading the man's statement.  I am sure I'm not the only one, and all of Douglas' books have been best sellers, so that man has made quite an impact.  The elder knew what was important in life and has passed along his lesson.  We need to be grateful for what we have instead of concentrating on what we don't have.  Be thankful to God each and every day for what He has given us.  Not just on Thanksgiving, but 365 days of the year.

Born In A Gold Box

We've all heard the expression 'Being born with a silver spoon in their mouth,' but this is one of my favorite stories.  Kirk Douglas was born into an impoverished family, and his mother said the way he came into the family was when she looked into the backyard one day to see a gold box lowered by a string made of silver.  She rushed out in the cold, opened the box, and saw a naked baby boy.  Elated to at last have a son--The woman had five daughters--She took the child into her home. 

As the family was always short on funds, Douglas always asked about the box.  His mother said when she went back outside, it was gone.  He constantly wondered if that didn't bother her.  No, she replied.  When she saw him, she could care less about the box. 

I would have liked Kirk Douglas' mother.  She knew what was truly important, telling her son at an early age how he was far more important than gold or silver.  And she tried passing that along to him.  It took a long time--long after her death--for the lesson to sink in, but eventually, he learned it. 

Other parents have taught this lesson to their children in various ways.  It's a beautiful analogy, and Douglas will insist today it's a true story.  After all, his mother told it to him.

For those who doubt it, remember Baron Munchasen's famous line, "Vas you dere, Charlie?"  Have faith in the words of our parents, who have let us know throughout the years in various ways we are far more valuable than gold or silver.  And their value to us is immeasurable.  We may not realize it growing up, but we do as we get older.

Cherish your family.  They are your gold box.

Mizpah

It's Not Hard to Say

I'm in the midst of reading Peter Ford's wonderful biography on his father, Glenn, one of my favorite actors.  About halfway through it, Peter, who is an email friend of mine, stated his father never said, "I love you," to his son.

Kirk Douglas has won accolades all around the world.  The one thing he wanted more than anything he never received.  It was a pat on the back from his father.  He wrote of once being taken out for ice cream as a child by his father, and treasures that moment.  To Douglas, that ice cream cone to this day means more than any award he has.

Why is it we cannot say those three words?  Are we supposed to be 'tough'?  Is it not manly? It can't be the latter, as there are women with the same problem.  Perhaps we think they already know it.  Or even more tragic . . . in many cases, the love isn't there.

My family has never been short on sharing love, so when I read the above stories, I want to reach out to those people and embrace them to let them know someone does care about them.  (I come from a family of huggers.)  We were taught at an early age "I love you" is not hard to say, and my sister's bunch has carried on the tradition. 

My nephews are a perfect example. They're all ex-jocks who jokingly like to act like they're 'bad', but they can all say "I love you" without hesitation.  They don't look around to ensure no one is watching, or whisper it under their breath.  They know no one is going to snicker at them.  They've been taught it's beautiful to say, not a sissy thing.

It's only three words, and if you can say it, you'll make someone's day.  With all the profanities we utter daily, "I love you" shouldn't be so hard.

It's A Guy Thing

My sister, bless her heart, is a very understanding woman.  She and some friends have started a ministry for mothers and a friend and I were picking up supplies for it.  I'd asked what they could use and one of the items was sippy cups.  Hey, not a problem.  That's what brothers are for.

So we go to Wal Mart, get a few things, and being a bachelor who knows nothing about this stuff, I call Sis.  The problem is, I ask her about spit cups.

Now, she was with a bunch of her friends at bunco. Great opportunity to roll her eyes and say, "Guess what he just said!"  She didn't.  (Thank you, Sis.)  She knew it was a guy thing. 

Two weeks later--we're getting supplies for the ministry again--and yes, I did it again.

Now, before you tell me I need to quit dipping--I don't.  This is merely a guy thing.  There is a huge difference between men and guys.  If you don't understand what I am talking about, you need to read  Dave Barry's Guide to Guys.  Women may not agree with it, but it will allow them to understand us.  A perfect example Barry gives is of four men who er, had a touch too much to drink one evening.  So for some fun, they decided to go off a ski ramp.  At night.  In a canoe.  Yes, a canoe.  All they got were a few scrapes.

I know.  Sounds ludicrous, doesn't it?  The women I tell that story shake their heads.  The vast majority of the men widen their eyes and say, "Cool." ( I think I've given them an idea.")  I then tell people the rest of what Barry wrote:  "The moment they pushed off--They were guys."  The women get ill, the vast majority of the men go "Yeah!," pumping their fist.

So . . . I'll continue to buy babies spit cups, slouch, have my Dew in the morning, put BBQ sauce on my scrambled eggs, think John Wayne's the best, and the Western is the only type film out there.

Sue me.  It's a guy thing.

It Ain't The Same Anymore

There was a time, and those who went to grade, junior, and high school will testify to this---this was my time of year.

"Son, the house is on fire!"

"Just a minute, Mom.  It's the bottom of the sixth and the bases are loaded."

Yes, I was quite a baseball addict, especially when it came to the playoffs and World Series.  I even was fortunate to go to two games of the Series in 1985.

But something changed.  Perhaps I did.  I dunno.  I know for a fact baseball did.  The playoffs are now longer than "War and Remembrance" in order to bring in more television revenue, and they're actually talking about lengthening them again.  In short, what they are saying is this:  "Okay, we're already letting a second-place team a la the wild card into the playoffs.  Let's do it again."  What they are really saying is it doesn't matter if you get first place or not. 

Look at the bats they use.  My stars.  They shatter like the glass in a shop that has a bull running through it.  Why?  They're light, as everyone wants a quick swing.  Go to the Louisville Slugger Museum and see the bats the great hitters used.  They aren't the toothpicks they players use today.  It should make today's hitters ashamed of themselves.  Most batters today use a bat in the low thirties weight.  Babe Ruth's bat weighed 54 ozs.  It didn't seem to hurt his hitting.

Yesteryear's players also played in flannel uniforms.  Enos Slaughter wrote of losing nine lbs in a doubleheader.  I cannot even fathom today's players attempting to do this.

They played through their aches and pains.  Carl Erksine popped his shoulder his first major league game and never said a word, not wanting to lose his job.  He pitched in pain his entire career, throwing two no-hitters along the way.  Lou Gehrig broke every finger in his hand during his streak.
Today's players would be on the disabled list.

Now it's labor unions, and are they on steroids.  I miss the days when the worse argument was a ball or strike or artificial turf or grass.

The players are fun to watch, but the innocence has been lost.

It just ain't the same.

Mr. Rogers Was Right

I love getting up early, seeing the moon still shining and the stars twinkling high in the sky.  Cricket wonders why I rise so durned early, but she lives with it.  We look out the window to see if the deer are here, and if they are treat ourselves to a majestic view.

Fred Rogers

Mr. Rogers was right.  It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, and I for one intend on enjoying it to the fullest.  We feed the deer and other animals, letting them know our property is a sanctuary. I view the sky at night, grateful I can still see the stars, knowing in town it's an impossibility. 

Mr. Rogers was someone we always made fun of, but he taught kids to accent the positive and eliminate the negative.  In today's day and age, that is the opposite of what we think, and he wouldn't be as popular as he was.  Yet he influenced several generations of children to the point his show ran for years after his passing.

We need Mr. Rogers once again.  His positive attitude and his teachings--They were simplistic, not beating the children over the head, merely making a point and going on.

And maybe we adults need to watch the show as well.

The Sound of Silence

As you may know, I live with my parents, which can be a sometimes interesting situation for a forty-seven-year-old slob like me.

Currently they're out of town, and I have to admit, it's strange:

*No pasta dishes

*No vegetables

*I don't have to leave the toilet seat down

*The phone isn't ringing as much.  (I finally told one solicitor to call back in a few weeks.)

*No political talk around the house

*I'm not being chided about my horrendous posture

You know what?  I miss them. 

It's Not Always Easy

Cliff Robertson passed away this weekend.  He was best known for his acting, most particularly his Oscar-winning performance in Charly.  What Robertson should be remembered most fondly for is his stand against corruption, and how it cost him. 

In 1977, Robertson was notified by the IRS he hadn't filed on $10,000 paid to him by Columbia Pictures.  The actor had no idea what they were talking about, and learned David Begelman, the studio head, wrote a check to Robertson, then forged his name.  It was learned he eventually had done this with other people to the tune of $65,000.  Robertson was the only one who took action, and Begelman was sentenced to community service and a $5,000 fine.  He would eventually lose him job, but take over MGM.


Cliff Robertson


Robertson, who had been warned not to make this public, didn't work in Hollywood for four years.  Throughout all this, the friends who had told him, "Cliff, if you ever need anything, call me," refused to take his calls.  When he was finally hired again, he was never again a leading man.  Whenever he was in a film, the billing would be "and Cliff Robertson" or "with Cliff Robertson."  The thing is, everyone would say they knew he had been right, but-- and never finished their sentence.

MGM didn't fare well under Begelman, who eventually went bankrupt.  His contract wasn't renewed, and he committed suicide in his hotel room.

Actor/writer Chris Lemmon is Robertson's stepson, and he wrote of what a fine man he was.  He said that Robertson was always there for him, and he remembered that more than the man's acting ability.  Robertson's stand was a perfect example of what an outstanding  man he was.

He knew the consequences he was facing when he made his stand, yet he made it.  Yet to this day, he's remembered not only for being a fine actor, but for someone who was wronged by Hollywood.  On the other hand, Begelman has gone down in history as a thief and blackmailer (That's another story.).

Things might have been harder for him for doing things honestly, but I think I would have rather been Cliff Robertson than the 'successful' David Begelman any day of the week.  At least Robertson could look himself in the mirror with pride, and gave us an example to follow.

We need to remember that example every day, and follow the Robertsons of the world, not the Begelmans.  It's harder to follow the first, but the end consequences of the latter aren't worth it. 

Mizpah

If Only . . .

When I was a kid, Bill Bixby starred in a series entitled 'The Courtship of Eddie's Father,' based on the Glenn Ford movie.  The theme song went, "People, let me tell you `bout my best friend . . ."

Well, that's what I'm going to do this morning.  Some of you are going to roll your eyes, and as a matter of fact, you're going to quit reading about now, but I have a reason for this, so be patient with me.

My cat Cricket's my pal, and I know . . everyone says it's supposed to be a dog. But Cricket likes to prance after me wherever I go.  She lets me know at 9 in the evening it's bedtime -- - even if I'm not sleepy.  If my insomnia awakens me, she'll get up with me, then tap me on the back at 5 to let me know it's her feeding time.  (I get up around then.) 

Of course, if I sleep past 5, she lets me know when it's time to get up.  I've been boxed, bitten on the toe, jumped on, walked on (her favorite), and meowed in the face quite pitifully.  In short, I never have to set the alarm.

When I work on my writing, I do it by hand.  She lets me know a lap is a terrible thing to waste, and it makes writing that much harder, but you know what?  It also is that much more enjoyable, as I'm doing it with my best friend.

My mother's dog - - whom Cricket and I consider to be our adversary- - is every bit as loyal.  (I cannot mention her name in this, as Cricket has not given me permission.)  When Mom was taken to the hospital with a heart attack last year, the dog was devastated, and stayed at the side of my mother's bed for hours, even though she wasn't there.  I tried persuading her to go outside (She has a bladder the size of a pea, so I knew she was agonizing.), and she wouldn't. or eat (Her appetite is huge.) and she wouldn't do either.  As a matter of fact, the only moving she would do was to go to the bathroom door.  That lasted well into the next day.

The recent story of the young soldier who perished and his dog at his funeral has been well documented as well.

Now I ask you this . . . . Why aren't we as people as loyal as our pets?  Why don't we give each other the loyalty, the love, the kindness, that our animals give?  As a matter of fact, when someone is being insulted, they're a 'dog.'  A snide remark is 'catty.'  You know, after watching our pets, we need to re-evaluate those terms.  I don't think we humans have the right to be on the same level with dogs and cats at times, as we don't have the love and loyalty as they do.

Mizpah.

We Never Realize

The other day, I was checking my page at Facebook, and noticed a message from someone I didn't know.  Those particular messages one tends to be careful of, as they generally start out, "Hey Handsome . . ."  (What makes those interesting is my photo is one of my grandfather when he was in his late seventies!)

Yet this message was from a woman who is married to a fellow I went to grade school with, and haven't seen in nearly forty years.  Needless to say, I've never met her.  She let me know her husband remember me as I was an epileptic, and they have two boys, ages six and seven, who are autistic.  In her words, "John has recognized a lot of behaviors in our sons because of his interactions with you and it has helped him to better understand you as a child and our children as they grow. I just wanted to let you know that whether you know it or not you have had an enormous impact on many people." 

Wow.  Needless to say, that hit me right between the eyes.  I'm not bragging my posting this, but it makes one think about the effect we have on others without realizing it.  It also makes us think about our behavior, and how we need to keep an eye on it.  One should set a sterling example, as we never know who is watching, and what they are picking up from us.

John has set a sterling example, and I am very proud of him.  He has shown himself to be an excellent father I know there are others who watch him, his not knowing it.  It continues . . .

Mizpah

It All Comes Down to A Spin and A Click

           In 1960, a film opened that altered the course of the motion picture, as it brought changes not only to the Western, but the action-adventure genre as a whole.  When John Sturges remade Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai as a Western, he thought he was making an ordinary film.  After all, Sturges had filled his resume with Westerns such as Bad Day at Black Rock, Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, and The Law and Jake Wade.  Call it what you want, but when his 1960 work, The Magnificent Seven, had put Sturges on the map to stay, he would later say, “I could have directed the phone book.” 

            Why?  Why was Sturges suddenly so popular?  He had been turning out quality work, yet with this one particular movie, he became someone to reckon with in Hollywood.  What is it about The Magnificent Seven that strikes our fancy?  Is it the fact good triumphs in the end?  No, as that is the case in so many Westerns, not to mention the vast majority of the motion pictures from that era.  Is it that the bad guy, as Calvera is characterized, is charismatic?  It could be, but this is not the first time this has happened in the cinema.  Look at every film Claude Rains has been the villain.  You never can quite figure out if you want to see him shot or would rather invite him to dinner.  Or maybe . . . just maybe . . . it has something to do with the fact this is the first film where the hero is a team rather than an individual.  It is quite easy to find a character we can think of, “Gee, I wish I were that guy.”

            And it was an interesting list of characters to want to be.  Even the baddie, Calvera, was admirable in a way.  To take a look at the eight main characters is to take a peek at one of the most fascinating, yet varied, cast lists of any western:

Calvera is much like Don Vito Corleone of The Godfather, in that what he is doing to the villagers he actually doesn’t consider stealing.  Rather, he looks at it as tribute.  Therefore, he is upset when the Seven first confront him.  Evidently, Calvera is a former revolutionary, the way his men ride into the village in formation, breaking off, knowing what to do when they first loot the village.  In his conversation with Sotero, he bemoans the changing times, stating, “Now I ride with a price on my head.”  So he has led this band for other purposes in the past, but is unable to stop his deeds, thus his outlawry.  His true tragedy when he cannot understand why the Seven came back.

            To this day, Eli Wallach does not see Calvera as a villain, but as a man trying   to make a living.  With this portrayal, Wallach single-handedly changed the fact of cinematic Mexican banditry.

            Chris is best summed up by Yul Brenner, who said, “There are only two clean things about him—His gun and his soul.”  Chris is a gunfighter with a conscience, as best summed up in three scenes.  The first is when he helps to bury Old Sam, and his only payment is a half-full bottle of whiskey, which is shared with Vin.  The second is when Chris realizes the village is offering him everything they have, while the third is when the Seven are considering leaving Ixcatlan.  However, Chris gave his word, and plans on keeping it, no matter the cost.

            While this is a remake of a samurai film, Chris is more a tie to the knights of Camelot.  Note the way he walks when going to the hearse.  It’s a proud, almost defiant walk.  People have said Brenner was still playing the King of Siam, but this is actually more of Chris daring someone to stop him, which of course, no one does.  While a knight wore a suit of armor, Chris wears black from head to toe.

            Vin is a lover of excitement, but a mature one.  Like Chris, he sees a lot of himself in Chico.  Vin is Peck’s Bad Boy all grown up, but there is still a touch of orneriness about him.  He is confident about what he does, but is not at all cocky about it.  He has every right to be due to his abilities, but he knows the moment cockiness enters the picture, he’s dead.  He does, however, possess a cracker barrel philosophy.  Interestingly, he wears chaps, the mark of a cowboy, but does not come across as ever being one.

            Harry Luck is probably the most beloved opportunist in the history of the cinema.  “A dollar bill always looks as big as a bedspread,” is his motto, and Harry spends the entire picture proving it.  As he refuses to believe there is no pot of gold at the end of this particular rainbow, this makes his happy-go-lucky lifestyle that much more endearing. Even though Harry has ridden on, he is the one who rides into a hail of bullets to attempt to save Chris.  It is a suicide attempt, and Harry knows it, being a professional.  But he does so anyway, as he’s not the selfish man he wants us to believe, dying while attempting to save a friend.  Still, as he lies dying, he has to ask Chris, if there really was more to it.  Harry just had to be a scoundrel at the end.

            Bernardo O’Reilly, along with Harry, has the privilege of sharing his last name with the audience.  Bernardo is like a chocolate covered caramel in that he is hard on the outside and soft on the inside. When he sees the children of Ixcatlan, he is glad to be there.  He took the job as he had no money, and twenty dollars was a lot to him.  He’s enamored with the children of the village, and they with him.   His death is the most necessary, as  three of these children revere him to the point he’s taken the place of their fathers.  While he likes being around the boys, he in no way wishes to replace those men, whom he admires.  Bernardo attempts to tell the children his life is not a happy one, and the life their fathers have chosen is honorable, yet not an easy life.  It is only by his death that Bernardo is able to make this plain.

            Britt is the best, according to Chris.  Money means nothing to him, so he is there to compete, primarily with himself.  Like Doc Holliday, Britt gets his thrills attempting to find the man faster than him.  While he does not go out and search for them, he is constantly challenged by them, and has to defend his honor.



James Coburn and Steve McQueen



            When the Seven are captured and taken to the clearing, Chico and Chris have their conversation interrupted by a spin and a click.  Britt is mad, as one can tell by the look on his face.  When he states, “Nobody throws me my own guns and says run.  Nobody.” we realize not only is he going back, but that Calvera is dead.  Britt does not care if anyone is returning with him or not.  He is a man of honor, and it has been tainted as far as he is concerned.  He has to reclaim it, and for that to happen, Calvera has to die.  In that one moment, he takes over from Chris.

            When Britt dies, this too is a death that is necessary, and no one understands it more than Britt.  The lesson here is  no matter who you are, what you do, or where you are, there will always be someone better than you.  Even if it is only for one split second.  The man who killed Britt got him with a fleeing shot, but with that one shot, he was the best.  In a face-to-face showdown with Britt, he would never have cleared his holster.  But in that fleeting moment, he was unsurpassed.

            Like Britt, Lee is also similar to Doc Holliday in that he is looking for a faster gun.  However, this quest is for a different purpose.  He has lost his nerve, and is looking for someone to put him out of his misery.  He will not kill himself,  having that much dignity.  When Lee dies, it could be considered a mercy killing.  Everyone knew he had lost his nerve.  Lee considered himself a coward, which in actuality he was not.  A coward does not take on three men by himself.  Yet while Lee had overcome his fear, it was only momentarily.  He took them with two objectives in mind.  He wanted to free the farmers, yes, but he was also attempting to die in the process.  When he was killed, Lee found the peace he craved.

            Chico is the one who definitely changed the most in the short time at the village.  He started as a young gun that at first emulated the others, wanting desperately to be as much like them as possible.  Yet when he returned to his roots, he discovered that Thomas Wolfe was incorrect in that one can go home again.  In assisting in the fight against Calvera, Chico gets the wanderlust out of his veins, and at the same time, finds the woman with whom he wants to settle down.  Therefore, while the village finds freedom, Chico emerges as the big winner.

            Sir Christopher Frayling found fault with Chico’s staying at the village with Petra, stating it was unlikely. I cannot fathom why.  Many gunmen of the Old West did marry.  In this case, Chico finally realized what the others have told him about their lives is true.  Thus, why should he go with them for a life of unhappiness, when he could have it in Ixcatlan?  Chico is impetuous, yes, but he is not stupid.

            At the picture’s end, Chris states, “Only the farmers won.  We lost.  We always lose.”  This is the one part of the film with which I take exception.  Each member achieved their personal goals, therefore all won.  True, neither Chris nor Vin have achieved the happiness of the villagers, but they have accomplished personal greatness, as these wanderers will continue to help others in need. That is not the mark of a loser, but of a knight.  And both Chris and Vin share many of the same traits of the warriors of Camelot.

            As stated earlier, The Magnificent Seven is by no means original.  As a matter of fact, it states in the credits it is based on Akira Kurosawa’s Seven Samurai.  Therefore, this is the first lesson taught by this film.  Quit bemoaning the fact that others take things from us and improve on them, as they are not the only ones to do so.  Americans have been remaking foreign films for decades.  Sometimes they improve on them, and other times, they would have done just as well to have left the movie alone.

            At the same time, this is a highly influential motion picture.  We have seen this film copied innumerable times.  There have been three sequels and a television series.  Some of the movie titles are amazing.  1961’s The Last Sunset had The Magnificent Two as a title for consideration.  Others have been The Seven Magnificent Gladiators and The Invincible Six, neither one which managed to catch the public eye.  When it comes to film styles, it is safe to say The Magnificent Seven set the tone for the likes of Sam Peckinpah and Sergio Leone. 

            Yet the most influential arena for the film is easily its score.  When Elmer Bernstein was asked to score the picture, he was best known for The Man With the Golden Arm and The Ten Commandments.  Yet it was actually The Magnificent Seven that made him well known, also doing so for many of the film’s stars.  The score has actually been called the eighth cast member, as it is not only remembered so well to this day, but basically became a celebrity.  Bernstein saw to it that even when there was not much happening onscreen, such as men riding slowly on horseback, the music still pulsated, making the film at times more exciting than it is.  To this day, the main theme is played at political conventions, and until cigarette commercials were taken off the air, it was the theme for Marlboro.  Whenever something is ‘magnificent’, according to the advertiser, we hear Bernstein’s theme.   The title is also influential in that every time some group does something of note, they are “The Remarkable Four”, “The Terrific Five”, or “The Outstanding Nine”.  We actually did have a “Magnificent Seven” gymnastic squad several years ago.

            We cannot forget the influence this film had on the careers of those who were involved in it.  In addition to Bernstein becoming the dean of Western film music, this picture boosted the careers of the actors who were in it.  Within the course of the next few years, Steve McQueen (Vin) went from television to one of the biggest stars in motion pictures.  James Coburn (Britt) by the end of the decade was super-agent Derek Flint, and had appeared in some of the decade’s best films.  Charles Bronson (Bernardo) saw his parts improve after this film, and by the end of the decade, was a star in European films.  Robert Vaughn (Lee) had become a worldwide idol as Napoleon Solo, the Man from U.N.C.L.E.  Brad Dexter (Harry) turned to producing, while Horst Buchholz (Chico) returned to European films.  Of the two already established, Eli Wallach (Calvera) and Yul Brenner (Chris) continued their careers both on the stage and in films.

            Earlier, I asked why this film was so popular.  “Why?” is the question Calvera asks as he lay dying.  It is the one, lone, unanswerable question.  It is a question with no complete answer, yet oh, so many attempts.  The Magnificent Seven is the second-most aired film on television because we benefit from seeing all the people we grew up with.  It continues in popularity as we like seeing the ‘little people’ like the farmers strike back at the end.  We enjoy seeing Britt with his knife fight at the railroad yard.  We must.  People would come up to Coburn until the end of his life, and simple ask him to say, “You lost.”   It could be we enjoy hearing Vin state, “We deal

in lead, friend.” Or maybe we want to hear Britt coolly state, “Nobody throws me my own guns and says run. Nobody.”   Maybe we take pleasure in seeing Harry constantly try to find out why Calvera is always coming back to the village, or Lee defeat his demons at the end, even if only temporarily.  It could be we like to hear Bernardo take up for the farmers, pointing out to their sons what brave men their fathers are.  Or possibly we just like all of it put together.  The recipe is there, as are the ingredients.  And they make such a great smorgasbord.

            When it comes to that spin and the click, we are hooked. And we should be.  The Magnificent Seven is a tale of heroism and teamwork.  At the same time, it is a tale of hero worship, love, and manliness.

            Several decades later, John Sturges, when talking about his films, stated, “I thought we were making movies, not history.”   How little he knew.

           

           

All It Takes Is A Sentence

In 1958, Hugh O'Brian was one of the most famous people in America, being the star of "The Life and Legend of Wyatt Earp."  During the summer, he was getting some extra income touring with a circus which at the time was in Winnipeg, Manitoba.  While there, O'Brian received a telegram from Dr. Albert Schweitzer, saying he would be more than welcome to visit.  He had long admired the German doctor-missionary-theologian-musician, saying, "He was a great humanitarian who could have done anything he wanted in the world, and there he was in the middle of Africa taking care of people."  O'Brian was on his way, arriving by various forms of travel.

Dr. Albert Schweitzer

He spent nine days with the 83-year-old Schweitzer, the winner of the 1952 Nobel Peace Prize.  The doctor was concerned about world peace, stating the United States need to take a leadership role, or "we are a lost civilization."  As O'Brian was departing, Dr. Schweitzer asked him, "Hugh, what are you going to do with this?"  That simple questions struck Hugh O'Brian right between the eyes like a thunderbolt.

Two weeks later, O'Brian started the prototype for his first youth seminar and from 1958-1967, he held seminars for California youths.  His group was called the HOBY foundation.  By 1968 it had grown to the point youths from all over the nation and world were joining up.

HOBY's core values are Volunteerism, Integrity, Excellence, Diversity, and Community Partnership.  Their goals are service and leadership, and motivating youth to make a positive difference through understanding and action based on effective and compassionate leadership.

Today, more than 14,000 young men graduate from HOBY seminars annually.  They have graduated more than 350,000 in all.

And it all started with a simple sentence.

A perfect example of why we should never underestimate our words.  One never knows who is listening, or how they are going to be interpreted.  One sentence--one word--can set someone off on a journey, so let what comes out of our mouths be carefully planned.  Dr. Schweitzer knew exactly what he was saying, and not only changed the life of Hugh O'Brian, but more than 300,000 teenagers thus far.

Mizpah.

http://www.hoby.org/
http://www.hughobrian.me/

Lunch With Paul



Paul Hammond, Mickey Fisher, and Glen Kilgour

Note:  This is a revision of something many have read.  It will be an annual column on August 17 in memory of Paul Hammond.


Most of you didn't know Paul Hammond. 

You missed out.

He was my college roommate, and easily the most intelligent person I've ever met.  His brother Ted dubbed him "The Oracle," and the nickname fit.  Paul could give you an intelligent conversation regarding any topic you wanted to discuss, even it it was the behavior of the Zoroastrian religion in the Appalachian region during the Christmas season.  Trust me, Paul could have done it, and at the same time, was never condescending.  He was never that.  He also could talk about any sport from football to lacrosse, and I think he followed high school sports in every state - - - and all of this was pre-Internet.

We became friends due to a mutual love of Strat-O-Matic Baseball, and once we roomed together - - - when our finances would allow - - - we'd hit Little Caesar's on Sunday.  That was our spot.  We each had our particular brand of pizzas, and we got them every time.  I'd polish off a 2-liter of Mountain Dew, while Paul would do the same to a Dr. Pepper.

Sadly, we graduated, going our separate ways.  I returned home, Paul moving to Colorado.  He would visit his mother every Christmas, and would always find time for a Strat-O-Matic tournament - - - in which he would wax me - - - and of course, a trip to Little Caesar's.  Per the usual, we ordered the same pizzas and I'd have the 2-liters cold.

Over the years, I added one more topping, and Paul changed his pizza.  Finally, Paul's stomach wouldn't let him eat pizza anymore.  With the passing of time, we quit getting together for baseball, but met with Glen Kilgour, a friend from the dorm, and fellow member of our championship College Bowl team, Sammie's Scholars.  (Paul would have wanted that mentioned.  We earned that!)

One year, while we were still meeting for baseball, Paul didn't want to play.  He just wanted to talk, and that's all we did, long into the night.  You name it, we discussed it:  baseball, politics, life in general, our families and how they were doing, what we wanted out of the future, guys from the dorm, Room 226, and of course, God.  Of course, we talked from about 7 p.m. until 3 in the morning, so there were a lot of other topics.  With all the fun I had with Paul, that was the best time I ever had. 

Two years ago today, my aunt was visiting.  She wanted to buy lunch, so she sent me to Little Caesar's.  I hadn't been in one for about five years.  On the way home, my cell phone rang.  It was Ted, Paul's brother.  Paul had passed away, a half hour beforehand.  I knew then and there Paul had wanted everyone to know he was okay, so God sent me to Little Caesar's.  There was no other explanation for my aunt picking that particular week.

So today and every other August 17, I'm having lunch at Little Caesar's and cracking open a 2-liter.  It's not the best thing for the diet I'm on, but that's okay.  I'm going to order my combination, and hoist my 2-liter to Paul, whom I think of daily.  Even before he left us, I always thought of him when I drove by that restaurant, and I always will.  But today, I'm just going to enjoy my memories of a great friend.

Listenin' to Davy



Davy Crockett

 Davy Crockett had a motto he carried with him all his life:  "Be sure you're right, then go ahead."  He followed that creed, and it cost him dearly.  When President Jackson decided to take away Indian land, Crockett, who had been there when the treaty was signed, stood up for the Indians, and lambasted Jackson, who not only was extremely popular, but from Crockett's state of Tennessee.  As a result, Crockett lost the next congressional election.

Knowing he'd stood up for what was right and had a switch taken to him for it, Crockett told his constituents, "You can go to h---.  I'm going to Texas."  That he did, taking a good amount of friends with him, and each and every one of them wound up dying in the Battle of the Alamo, which is another story.  But once in Texas, Crockett and his friends decided to stick around for the fight as they felt it was the right thing to do.  Davy Crockett didn't run from his conscience.

We need to follow in the footsteps of men like Crockett in that many of us today don't even know what a conscience is.  The right thing?  Doing that takes too much time and effort.  I'll do it tomorrow . . . or Tuesday . . . or next year.  We become stagnant until it's too late, and by then we really don't care.

Our consciences are powerful things, and we need to listen to them more often.  They're not there to brainwash us, but to steer us onto the correct and proper path.  You may say, "Yeah, but Crockett's got him killed."  Crockett had to live with himself, and had he gone along with the Washington crowd, he would have been a walking dead man, which he knew.  He merely chose the way for him to go, and it turned him into one of America's greatest legends. He knew exactly what he was doing.  Crockett may have lost his life in the long run, but he went out an honest man with a clear conscience.

How many can attest to that?

Want the Bickering Stopped? Listen to Paul Harvey

With the way Congress is bickering about the debt ceiling, it's funny the memories it's allowed to bring up.  For some odd reason, this particular one has stuck me for more than thirty-five years.  It was a mere moment, but I'm glad it did.


Paul Harvey


I was going through the paper, and for some reason, decided to read Paul Harvey's column.  I don't know why, as at the age I was, I would read the funnies, and if there was no baseball news, I skipped the sports.  Plus, I always read the late Jim Lange's editorial cartoon.  But this particular day, that column stuck out, and I've never forgotten it. 

He wrote of how everyone wanted a problem solved, and when a solution came up, someone in a part of the nation would cry out, "Not that!  It hurts me!"  So they'd come up with yet another solution, and another group would shout out, "You can't do that!  It hurts me!"  So they would go back to the drawing board, return with Plan C, and lo and behold another group would rush up screaming at the top of their lungs:  "What are you doing?  Can't you see the damage that will do to us?"

Harvey went on to point out that in order for the then-current problem to be stopped, people needed to quit acting as individuals, and act as Americans.  They needed to dump the 'me first' attitude that had taken over.  That, he said, was the only way this was going to happen.

Sadly, while people respected Paul Harvey, continuing to listen to him on the radio and read his column, they evidently ignored what he had to say that particular day.  We are more of a 'me first' generation than we were thirty-five years ago.  I remember Dr. John George saying many times to my classes, "People are like Templeton the rat from Charlotte's Web in that we're always asking, 'What's in it for me?'" 

In looking over today's times, we need to remember to drop the 'me first' and put an 'America first' attitude.  We hear so many differing viewpoints from Washington, it's hard to tell what is going on there.  People will say, "Oh, I believe so and so, as he's a member of my party."  In the long run, that's worth about as much as a wooden nickel. 

We need to drop our selfish attitude, and remember the foundations this nation started on.  If not, we're going to continue this downward spiral.  Nations that have forgotten their past have no future.

For Paul Harvey - Good day.

Loyalty

Bob Greene is one of my two favorite authors.  His Once Upon A Town:  The Miracle of the North Platte Canteen , Duty: A Father, A Son, and the Man Who Won the War and And You Know You Should Be Glad are highly recommended.  His latest column is one that says it far better than I could.

Frank Sinatra’s Lesson In Loyalty By Bob Greene

Some people are so big during their lives, even death doesn't seem to entirely take them away.

So it is with Frank Sinatra. He left this earth in May of 1998, yet there is seldom a day when you don't hear his voice drifting out of a radio, seldom a week when you don't catch a flash of his face on a television screen, or read a reference to him in a newspaper or a magazine. Sinatra: The word itself signals something. Those three quick syllables: sharp, snappy, staccato. The images the name brings to mind: the Rat Pack, ring-a-ding-ding, very good years, strangers in the night. Many adored him, some despised him; few were indifferent.

In New York, especially, his voice remains omnipresent. His "New York, New York" might as well be the city's official anthem. Many times when I've visited Manhattan I have walked past what was said to be Sinatra's favorite restaurant: an unprepossessing-enough-looking Italian place on West 56th Street called Patsy's. This, Sinatra legend has it, is the spot where he could relax, where he felt most at home.

I'd never gone inside. I had imagined it as a peak-of-the-mountain place, a restaurant where only the most savvy would congregate, men and women who were at the pinnacle of their games, who had long ago learned and mastered all the angles. After all, this was where Sinatra had his regular table, wasn't it? How could mere mortals have a shot at fitting in?

This trip, I came in for dinner. And learned a lesson.

Sinatra, in his chairman-of-the-board years, in his sell-out-every-seat-in-the-concert-hall decades, did, in fact, gravitate to this place. But it wasn't because he was the biggest name in entertainment. It was because at one point in his life, he feared that he might be finished.

"My grandfather was the first member of our family to know him," said Salvatore J. Scognamillo, the current chef and co-owner of Patsy's.

The grandfather -- Pasquale "Patsy" Scognamillo -- had co-owned a restaurant nearby called the Sorrento during the first years of the 1940s. The young Sinatra was brought in one day by his boss, bandleader Tommy Dorsey. "I've got this skinny kid from Hoboken," Dorsey reportedly told Patsy Scognamillo. "Fatten him up."

Sinatra swiftly became an international singing idol whose voice and face made women and girls scream and faint; riots broke out at his concerts. Patsy, meanwhile, left the Sorrento and opened Patsy's. Both men -- the crooner and the cook -- were doing well for themselves.

But in the early 1950s, Sinatra's career crashed. He was no longer a kid. His records stopped selling. His romance with Ava Gardner was on the rocks. His record company dropped him. The winner suddenly was being widely seen as a loser, washed up.

People who follow the Sinatra story know about the eventual comeback: how he landed a role in the movie "From Here to Eternity" and won an Academy Award, how his career zoomed again, how he became the living symbol of success and swagger.

Yet in those down years, no one could have anticipated the rebirth. Sinatra was a has-been, yesterday's news.

"He would come in to the restaurant alone for lunch," Sal Scognamillo said to me. I could tell that this was a thrice-told family tale -- or a thrice-times-thrice-told tale. That didn't make it any less compelling.

"My grandfather would sit with him," Sal said. "There would be people eating lunch who would avoid making eye contact with Sinatra -- people who used to know him when he was on top. Sinatra would nod toward them and say to my grandfather: 'My fair-weather friends.'"

One November, on the day before Thanksgiving, Sinatra asked Patsy if he would make him a solo reservation for the next day. "He said he would be coming in for Thanksgiving dinner by himself," Sal said. "He said, 'Give me anything but turkey.' He didn't want to think about the holiday, but he didn't want to be alone."

The restaurant was scheduled to be closed on Thanksgiving. But Patsy didn't tell Sinatra that; he told him that he'd make the reservation for 3 p.m. He didn't want Sinatra to know that he was opening especially for him, so he invited the families of the restaurant's staff to come in for dinner, too. He cooked for Sinatra, on that solitary holiday, and it wasn't until years later that Sinatra found out.

That's where the loyalty came from. That's why Sinatra never stopped coming to the restaurant. In later years, when Patsy's would be jammed with diners hoping to get a glimpse of him, few understood why the most famous singer in the world would single out one place as his constant favorite.

It was no big secret to the Scognamillo family. They all knew. A person recalls how he is treated not when he is on top of the world, undefeated, but when he is at his lowest, thinking he will never again see the sun.

"Up those stairs, that's where Sinatra used to have his table," I heard a man say to his date as they entered the restaurant. He's still packing them in, 13 years after his death.

Who remembers a kindness that comes when kindnesses are in short supply? Who most treasures being made to feel welcome when every door seems to be slamming shut?

In the wee small hours of the morning, only the lonely.

Art Linkletter's Legacy

I was taking a walk down 10th the other day, and saw our neighbor watering his shrubs.  His little boy, who was about six, was watching him with a keen eye.  Finally, the boy had to ask.  "Whatcha doin', daddy?"

The father replied, "I'm watering the shrubs."

"Why?"  (Let's face it.  Everyone knew that was coming.)

Grinning, the man said, "So they'll grow." 

With an extremely perplexed look, the boy asked, "But daddy, why do you want them to grow?"

Now it was daddy's turn to be confused.  "What do you mean?"

"Wellllllllll . . . You put that stinky stuff on the lawn to make it grow and put all that water on it.  Then you put a whole lotta stinky stuff on the shrubs to make them grow and put a buncha water on them, right?"  His eyebrow cocked, the father simply nodded his head.  "And then, you cut the grass and the shrubs, cuz you say they're getting too high, and when the mower duzzint work, you use words like-"

"Never mind.  I get your point.  Er, why don't you go help you mother?" 

Innocently the boy replied, "She sent me outside."

By now, I was about to bust a gut.  But I was curious as to why this happened.  Matter of fact, so was daddy, who made the fatal mistake of asking.

"Mommy's making a cake, and I asked her why."  The father's face started to fall.  He knew what was coming.  "She asked what I meant, and I told her, 'Every time you eat a piece of cake, you say you shouldn't have done that, as it goes right to your hips.'  So she sent me out here."

Art Linkletter had a show entitled Kid Say the Darndest Things.  This young man would have been a star.  How refreshing children are, and we need to remember to watch our actions and words around them, as we often forget we are the ones who shape their lives.  Enjoy your life, but remember little eyes are always watching.  Mizpah.

No Dominos Allowed

Today's paper carried a good amount of stories dealing with the tornadoes from last week.  Considering the devastation they brought, that's natural.  We expect more stories to come.  One particular tale in today's paper concerned a man who perished saving his wife.  His son was driving to check up on them and saw his father perish.  The man could have made it, but he refused to leave his handicapped wife and died covering her with his body, letting the falling debris crush him.

To many in this day and age, that man would be classified as a 'sucker.'  To a great deal more, he will be remembered as a hero.  To the son, who according to the paper, already had a good deal of fond memories of his father, his last memory of him will be that of him saving his mother.  I would say that man will be remembered well.  The people of the community say he was always there for you.  I'm not surprised.
A man like that - - one who's always there for us - - is a hero.  It's the way a person acts that makes them heroes.  This man was already a hero to his family, and now he is one to the community as well.  It's just that now he's getting attention statewide, due to the newspaper. 

You want to be a hero?  Just think of how your actions affect others.  Before you scoff, think of dominoes.  Tip one over, and they all fall.  We're much like that game.  One of us falls, and it can cause a great deal of devastation.  Don't be a domino.  Be a hero.

                                                                                                 

Playing Bang-Bang

When the world, my sister's kids, and I were considerably younger, I used to babysit Diana's quartet.  I have to say they were sweet and angelic, as she reads this blog.  Actually, they were well behaved, as they knew Uncle Mickey was a snitch.  Also, their mother had told them Uncle Mickey was the Big Bad Wolf.  So while they loved me, they were scared to death of me.

But we had fun.  You see, we played the entire time, and the kids loved it when we played bang-bang. 

Oh, I know.  The ACLU, PTA, and OEA (Oklahoma Educational Association for you non-Okies) would be down on me had they but known.  Matter of fact, I'd probably be in jail for teaching such a dangerous game to minors.  Yet we had an educational form of bang-bang.

Yes, I said educational.

You see, we'd start out with a fast draw contest.  I'd always tell the kids, "Draw on the count of three."  Of course, I shot them on two.  Now, don't even think of scolding me, telling me what a cheat I am.  But I'm not.  You see, I never said I would draw on three, did I?  Hmmmmmmm?  It took the kids years to figure it out. 

When they finally shot me on two (the cheaters!) I started drawing on one.  Again, it took them months.  Alas, they started cheating again and they drew on one.  It finally got to the point, I'd tell them to draw on the count of three and they would immediately shoot me.

I get a tear in my eye, thinking about how well they learned.

Years later, Mom chastised me, telling me I'd taught her grandchildren to cheat.  Not so, I pointed out to her.  Her oldest grandson, Justin was walking by, and I asked him, "Justin!  What did Uncle Mickey teach you?"

"Never trust anyone," he said, continuing on. 

Mom thought that was horrible, and I pointed out they'd never been accosted by strangers, never hurt by anyone, etc.

I did my uncle's job well.

If only I could outdraw them now.

It Ain't Broke, People

I just finished watching an interesting documentary on our national anthem.  It's interesting how people have wanted to change it throughout the years.  Many have not cared for it due to the reason it's 'hard to sing.'  Others don't like the fact it's a 'violent song.' 

Okay, so it's not an easy song to sing.  Yet this is a country that is supposed to be comprise of people who thrive on challenges.  That's how we got started back in 1775.  And now, many of us are saying that a tune defeats us?  Sad is the only word that comes to mind.  This documentary had a voice teacher saying The Star Spangled Banner is actually a perfect song, as when we sing it at sporting events, our blood is stirred.  He pointed out the other tunes considered wouldn't do so.

For the PC crowd, yes, the song describes violence.  Yes, it talks of destruction.  But this nation wasn't won in a poker game or quilting bee.  Francis Scott Key's ballad reminds us of this, and not one of the other songs considered remind us of this.  Each and every one of them were wonderful songs telling of the beauty of America, but The Star Spangled Banner truly deals with the sacrifice needed to win our freedom.  The veterans interviewed in this documentary wondered if those wanting to change the national anthem had served.  Each of them said when they were in the military, The Star Spangled Banner gave them chills, and it still does.

It isn't busted, so let's just leave it alone.  Keep the ballad reminding us why we're a nation.  When there was once a movement to replace it, Irving Berlin, our nation's foremost songwriter, and Arthur Fielder, conductor, conductor of the Boston Pops, spearheaded a movement to head it off.  They pointed out that no one less than John Philip Sousa had led the way to make the song the national anthem, and who better to tailor America's taste in music?

                                                            

So when you next hear our national anthem, do the correct thing.  Take off your hat, put your hand over your heart, and remember why you're grateful.  Sing out, and do so properly.  You may not have the best voice in the world, but you are able to do so, due to the generations that came before us.  Do it for them.