It's the most horrible time of the year.

Seventy one years ago, the Japanese attacked the US Fleet in Pearl Harbor HI. It brought the United States into WWII. 2,402 US service people were killed, 1,282 wounded with 65 Japanese pilots killed or wounded. The meaning of today seems to be lost in the US. Most of the survivors are long gone. What used to be a reminder of the sacrifices some made for freedom is now another day. Schools don't celebrate it as the new generation of Americans have little idea of WWII, let alone the what the day means. And so it goes.............

And for anyone on here who lives in the East Bay - the light you might have saw is the search light on Mount Diablo. December 7 is the only night the light is lite to remind us of that day when America first lost it's innocence.

I have no idea why I like this song or why I like The Suit.

One of those early things that helped shape me. Seeing Brubeck do this live on the Today Show in the early 60's. Rest in peace Mr Brubeck.

Usually I blog observations of life, songs I like, or other silly stuff. This blog started out as something about Thanksgiving, then moved into personal therapy, and it end as a commentary on being alone.
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When I was a small child, Thanksgiving was a big day in our little family. My mom was great at decorating and did up the house every season. Thanksgiving was gourds, cornucopia, other seasonal times (some of which would not politically correct these days). Of course the good china was brought out. The day before Mom spent half the day washing and hand drying the china. Then she continued to prepare for the feast. It was a feast too. A big turkey with all the trimmings. More food than three people could eat in a month. But somehow we went through it before the weekend was over. But my dad also made sure I understood the meaning behind this day. How the Indians (word at the time) basically saved the white man’s ass. So every year we made a trek to local mission to deliver food to help the drunks and homeless there then help out where ever we could. My dad reminded me that there for the grace of god goes many of us. And we should remember the downtrodden every day.

This all changed the year I turned 9. Dad died that summer. Thanksgiving was different. I realized that my mom was having real problems. The decorations were not as in years past. She didn’t bring out the china. We didn’t bring anything to the mission. Thanksgiving morning I came out to find mom crying at the dining room table with a half drained bottle of vodka in from of her. She told me how much my dad meant to her, how hard it was for them to be accepted since he was 20 years older, how much I meant to my dad. Dinner was a total disaster. But I learned a lot that year that allowed me to accept the behaviour from my mom in the years to come. Over the years Thanksgiving changed. More food and football. Less caring for others.

Forty eight years have passed and this was the second year in a row I am alone for Thanksgiving. Last year I was numb from the previous four month so it really didn’t bother me. This year is different. To misquote Delbert McClinton¸ I’m eighteen hundred miles from the woman I love. So to avoid Thanksgiving I decided to have my meal today. I dug around in the freezer last Sunday and found a Prime Rib. While waiting for the roast to rest before digging in, I went to check the mail. A man pushing a shopping cart was heading up the hill. I see him often when out on walks and runs. Usually we nod as he hits the garbage containers for cans. Today he was looking tried and cold in the gray overcast light. He nodded my way. I mentioned it looked like he had a slow day collecting cans. He said he was late getting out, this holiday brings him down. I asked if he wanted to share a non-traditional thanksgiving dinner with me today. His face lite up like a thousand watt light blub. So we supped. We talked while we ate then continued the conversation after. I should say he talked and I listened. He poured his heart out about his life. His upbringing, his wife and kids, how he ended up collecting cans and living on the streets. At some point my eyes started to tear up. He got worried and stopped talking. I told him to keep on. I was just thinking of something my dad told me every Thanksgiving. As he was about to head out he asked why I was about to cry. I told him. He hugged me then said in a breaking voice he better get going.
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There is really no way to end this blog. The day wasn’t an epiphany for me. Just a day that reminded me of things past. I hope on this day of food, football and late night shopping with your family and friends, you take some time to remember those who are alone. The aged, the homeless, the military, those working away from home, the ones away from the ones they love. Be thankful for the grace of god it isn’t you. .

I would like to thank the group responsible for bringing Formula One back to the United States.
I watched the race live and on tape. I was taken by beauty of the track. A great course designed for this race. Not one laid out inside an oval track, through some major city or snaking through a forest. It is a wide track with places to pass (DRS helps lol). Great to view. It looks like most seats have views of the majority of the track. I would love to have a lap or forty on this place. Here is hoping FIA decide to bring F1 to the US for the long term.

Having eaten enough of these in my formative years to almost guarantee diabetes, and ruin my taste for anything sweet, I find it hard to admit they will be no longer. *sob* But I found a few commercials. One I remember from being a little kid and one from Howdy Doody. I only wonder how many kids tried to make Hostess Twinkies like Buffalo Bob did.

My voting place is in a church. It is also a Food Shelf. On the first Tuesday of the month they give out extra things I guess. At 8:30 this morning there was no line to vote but at least 30 people in line for food (they open at 10 or 10:30). Being the statistical type I decided to take a poll of the people in the food line after I voted. I asked every third person if they voted or intended to vote. It hit me on the first person I should also ask if they are legally in the US. Turns out my sample size was 11.
1 person had voted
3 people did not speak English and when someone interpreted for them 1 said no, 1 said yes and 1 said they were illegally in the country
4 people said they were illegally in the US.

The 4 unaccounted for above said they had no intention of voting because it was a waste of time and it makes no difference. Very sad.
What I found interesting was the 3 people who spoke broken English and admitted to being here illegally said they would vote if they were citizens. One of these people had another woman join her. Seems this woman was naturalized last year and had tears in her eyes from voting. In her broken English she said in her Province in Mexico voting was a farce (her word). She said Americans in her building don't realize what a privilege it is.

I will admit I was not thrilled about the choices for most elected offices this year. I was voting more against the money grabs that are initiative measures in this state. But that woman reminded that a lot of people didn't even get a chance to have a say in their government. She was damn proud to have her I Voted sticker on.

Legal disclaimer: The above poll was not undertaken with scientific methodology. It was strictly an informal random sample of people. It is assumed all respondents were honest in their answers. Results with different subject groups could imply different results. There is no margin error calculated for this sample.

I feel like I should be like the women (I use that term loosely) on the Maury show. "you don't know me, you don't be judgin me".

Ok I realize your team just got swept in the World Series. I know I am have been supporting the Giants on NN. Just because I am a Giants fan does not mean I was born and raised out here as you suggest. In fact the Giants moved to SF after I was born. Which if you even looked at Wikipedia you could have figured out. For your information the first two MLB games I ever saw live were in Detroit.
I lived in Northern Ohio at the time and my dad listened to the Tigers games. So I was a Tigers fan long before I was a Twins fan, Cardinals fan, Athletics fan or Giants fan. As for those first in person games. My dad decided since I loved baseball, as he did, my 6th birthday present would be a trip to Detroit. As my birthday was on Monday in 1961, he got tickets for Sunday. It was a doubleheader. Back in the days before league expansions, jet travel and with much shorter seasons; teams played two games in a day very often. It was against the Minnesota Twin. The Tigers won both games. Now this was at old Tiger Stadium with the green seats and we were sitting in the second deck of right center. For the few baseball freaks on here, this was the Tigers of Kaline, Cash, Colavito and Lary pitching. In the first game I got to see Norm Cash hit a home run and Frank Lary go nine innings. In the second Rocky C put one out (I think he hit 45 HR's that year).
So to this person who wanted to trash me, don't be dissing what you don't know. If I hadn't move from NoOh, I would still likely be a Tigers fan. As Bill Cosby sang "you're a young boy, you got a lot to learn".