Fifty Years of Questions

 

https://vimeo.com/931266540

Hi everybody. Da harv here and I guess I'm gonna be talking about the last forty-five years I’ve spent messing around in this thing that’s inappropriately referred to as a business. Doubtful if we could or should ever remotely consider the assertion: Show business as a business. Well it really isn't a business, it’s a condition of the heart. Any mentally well-balanced human being would ever aspire to professionally. Once you’re in it, it’s pretty hard to get out of it. Equally as hard to stay with it.            And a very short commentary of how we got into this “the first go around” if you might say it. Da harv got married too soon for words, to express one of the great misevaluations of how the practice of air indulgence, in order to breathe properly could possibly work. Plus at the beginning mistakenly undervalued by the similar experience of then having two children to support.        While struggling to breathe, I whispered, “I do” (oy). Maybe I shouldn't have been even met the first person I fell in love with. But even before that, taking an acting class in high school from a rather beautiful unemployed actress who became a teacher. Go figure that out (another oy). Oh well, what the hell. Most of us, especially guys, miss some of the more important things while going through the trials and tribulations of growing up. Growing up if we can ever really tune in on that one.          And so…here we grow again. Forty five years of still trying to figure things out. Someway, somehow, da harv remains paddling up stream. Cathy and I continue our attempted attack at staying in the game of our choice. Our motto is “Keep paddling or you’re going down my friend”. For us, it’s all about people. Voiceover, another acting craft. One day at a time. Each and everyday of one's life, everyone must learn something new in order to practice their craft properly. Reflection in order to tell the truth. Think about it, and then without hesitation look them right in the eye and share what you have learned about how to paddle. That’s all it’s about. If you find what I’ve just relayed to you being this difficult thing to do as one might perceive. My friend, you're on the right road to success. Being a winner is a difficult task to come by.       During the course of my last fifty years of life, learning and educating people with my gleaned knowledge has provided a spiritual blessing I never would have dreamed possible. So from here on out. You're all welcome to write me via email, an industry question, or anything else you’d like to share with me and my world. This isn’t a hurtful kind of request. Please don’t offer a “get even” kind of thing. And during the course of the many years I’ve been at this craft of directing. I’ve been asked more than once who my favorite two male or female actors have been. And you’d think that’d be a tough question to answer but you know what? Deep respect to everybody I’ve ever directed. Somehow, someway the same few people keep popping up. Ed Asner and Brock Peters on the male side. Each had something special going for them. That someway, somehow, it did separate them from the rest. And again someway, somehow, I really deeply identified it with both of them. Ed Asner and Brock Peters. On the female side it was much easier for me. Lucille Ball and Cloris Leachman. Two special women amongst all the other special women that I’ve directed

Ed Asner Brock Peters

Lucille Ball  Cloris Leachman

Ok here, Stop The Presses!  This just came to me here.   The last time they had an earthquake in the New Jersey area of the east coast was back in the late eighteen hundreds. It’s early on Friday morning folks, April 5th. I’m at work here, freely trying to finish my regular Sunday musings, when Fox news (would you believe) interrupted to let me know about the 4.8 earthquake. Well, so far they report no injuries have been caused. However, both the republicans and the democrats have blamed each other for causing the possible earthquake damage. At an immediate Whitehouse press conference it was announced that there is definite proof that placing “razor wire” at the Texas border was of no help in stopping the earthquake. Unexpectedly we heard a whispered voice reading how it reminded him of the one they had in Delaware when he was very young. While his voice was not recognizable. It did however sound quite old, to this voice casters ears. Peter Doocy, following the press conference allowed, how the voice sounded like the president to him. The fact is Peter, you’d better get your story straight; The president didn’t move to Delaware until he was ten years of age.   And in case you’re interested… Biden was born in 1942 in Scranton, Pennsylvania. When he was 10 years old, his family moved to Claymont, Delaware. What’d you know about that? Ok! I'll be darned. Another press out! Another press release. Again. This just in. Yeah! The governor of New York has been handed a slip of paper from an unknown source showing proof positive that another note from an unknown source proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that one of Donald Trump’s children who had studied science while attending P.S. 233 in Brooklyn was the culprit responsible for the massive earthquake. Now there you go! You go girl! You go! Now that’s what I call accurate reporting.  Don’t you think? Accordingly, since I am the only living remnant of my graduating grammar school class at P.S. 233 who is still managing to breathe well enough to survive. It could have been me that actually managed to make the earthquake happen.  Remember... you heard the truth first and foremost right here from da harv. Blessings on all your heads! -da harv

Something New For You

 

https://vimeo.com/928894297?share=copy

Hey everybody this comes to you from da harv here. It’s 2024 on a wonderful Easter Sunday. Something new for you… (I hope and pray). Here with, it pleases me to offer up some words penned, similarly presented free of charge by da harv without warning with nothing more than a blessing in advance and bearing with it a hope for you and your ability to breathe life into all you may choose to accomplish!  And so, from me and them for you and yours if you and they choose. I’ll begin with three erstwhile friends from my past… First a guy up here for us known as Ralph Waldo Emerson and one day he said… “Dare to live the life you have dreamed for yourself. Go forward and make your dreams come true.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Never say 'no' to adventures. Always say 'yes’ otherwise you'll lead a very dull life.” And that was another friend of mine Ian Fleming back in 1952.

Ian Fleming

And then without thinking very hard this man who’s still working every single day. You might find these words good advice to follow:  "In life, finding a voice is speaking and living the truth. Each of you is an original. Each of you has a distinctive voice. When you find it, your story will be told. You will be heard." And that came from mouth, heart and being of John Grisham.  I didn’t know it at that particular time in my young life, how much John Grisham was going to mean to me. I was being taught inadvertently without fully understanding how much of his life’s meaning was being passed along creatively to me. It took him about thirty-five years of screwing around before he got his first book published. With magic strokes of an unseen pen his stalwart desire to succeed in life, immerging by his dreams, accounting as the managed manifest for what proved as one of the great literary accomplishments ever recorded. And as we look forward I offer…   Query, if you don’t mind. Life’s pondering: often not divine Cards being dealt Playing them Without debate They are mine Alone  Has it occurred to you lately… Perhaps not appearing sedately maybe, just maybe it has  more often than you might think.  But why and how did it happen? (the) why? (the) how? (the) when?  Rarely are assumptions held by you alone  Do all successful people go through this? I’ll just take it to the bank Who cares anyway? But still You think wonder explore  Perhaps you win Yet without guarantees Uncertainty persists  Well then think about it again It sounds good Too damn good if it’s true   And just in case, if you haven’t noticed this all comes to you from da heart of da harv. And on the morrow, the sun will be coming out, if you look out for it. That’s just one day more, but don’t wait, play the cards now.  -da harv here

 

                                                  https://vimeo.com/926447564?share=copy

Hi everybody! Da Harv here and this is titled: My life. Not titled as yet! And the definition of that is a person having a title indicating high social or official rank and that sure wasn’t me.

There are many things I get There are many things I don’t get   Maybe we will and maybe we won’t Up and down and all around town With change, there comes more change Not always, my brothers and sisters Well, maybe sometimes And the music you’re hearing is Frank Sinatra, is up and under.

How are you all today? You happy? Anyways, I mean all of you. All categories. Dads, mothers, sisters, brothers. Whether you're on the top of the heap, the middle of the pile, or a person who hasn’t an inkling of where the hell they happen to be. It makes no never mind to me. You see, the beauty of my situation is a very simple fact of life. Oh no. I’m not a currently elected official. Not that I haven’t given it some thought. I’m qualified. I once had a relative who lived in Delaware. But I digress. Here’s a couple of salient points about my view on things. First and foremost, it’s a fact of life…I’m not being paid to share what I’ve learned about life. I write and some of you actually read what I share with you.    I’ve learned to always base my information on what information I’m able to glean from a reliable source. Here's an example: the other day, it was two Saturdays ago, I was sitting at a lunch table waiting for Cathy to complete our weekly shopping trek at Costco. And this old guy saunters up and asks if I’d mind if he shared a spot at my table. Well like me he was wearing a veterans ball cap, and in my circle that qualifies him as a knowledgeable and experienced information supplier. He took notice that I was very busy reading my stack of emails. “Anything interesting today?” he asked. “Nothing earth shattering” I responded. Inside I was fighting back from a giggling laugh building. I knew the dam was open now. This guy figured I was a live one he had captured. He began to talk at me with his first supposedly curiosity question about my life.    “Ever think about what would be your next direction to take?” And before I had a chance to answer him, he took over the conversation again I became the actor without any lines to read. Without missing a beat he was on stage again. I mean direction to take with your life. If you need a direction to take Why not get up on a wave and take it? There’s no future in riding in on a wake. What if you’re like me and need a new direction to take? What then? What then if the water is above your head? It’s better if you stop talking Try wading for awhile Maybe you’ve become too old to surf Deep water ain't for everyone Especially if you’re a shallow fellow  And with that he kinda saluted me, got up, and walked away. You meet a lot of interesting people at Costco. And so I bid you from my heart to yours happy shopping in your life. -Da Harv

Past, Present and Future

 

https://vimeo.com/921319593?share=copy Hi everybody, I’m gonna take you a little bit back in time on this one. It was 1943…I was ten years old in the fourth grade at P.S.233. The P.S. Stands for Public School. It was located in East Flatbush, in the borough of Brooklyn. city of New York, in the state of New York.

You might have guessed by now, I like to get into the history, and origins of people and things. I’m like a personal leader of the study of roots. Mine, yours, and everybody elses. In those early days, my friends in the neighborhood were my favorites.

I began to learn early on, teachers aren’t immune from becoming a little short of patience with students like me. Many of them couldn’t curtail going over their tipping point. As a matter of fact, there were some of my elementary school teachers who actually didn’t like me at all. Hard to fathom anyone not liking da harv. I mean, give me a break, What’s not to like? And even though this one particular teacher has to be long gone by now, I’m not going to mention his or her name in order to protect against any chance of them having any relatives who might still be alive and kicking some place. It began with our fourth grade group of boys and girls. Our teacher was conducting a class referred to as “Beginning Science”. Note: This isn’t for the purpose of me intending to brag. From the third grade on, all the teachers at P.S. 233 knew Harvey Kalmenson was gifted with an advanced vocabulary for a child of his age. My sister Ruth was older than me by six years. She was sixteen and I was ten. Ruth had graduated high school and was preparing to enter college. I didn’t know this at the time, we had a competition going on in our household. Ruthyhad to work hard to get her exceptional grades. Harvey on the other hand was very lackadaisical about everything other than baseball. It was rare for me to ever open a book to read. I teased my sister without mercy. She in turn got back at me by acting out her belief in her right to have a motherly influence on my life. Well, there was a tell-tale incident at school. The topic of the day was announced by our teacher: “Today We’re going to learn about Past, Present, and Future.” Well, I immediately raised my hand while abruptly standing up. The kids began to giggle. They knew what was coming. Our teacher displaying a look of indignance said: “What now. I haven’t even started yet?”. I raised my voice and responded without hesitation: “What about now?” (I said). “Now is the present” was the teacher's reply. “How come it keeps moving then?” I asked smugly. The teacher laughed and responded with: “What in the world are you talking about Harvey?” This incident wasn’t caused by my sister Ruth’s inadvertent one upmanship activity of being herself a first class educator. Ruth had explained to me the science project she had personally worked on as a senior in high school. I, in turn, was challenging my teacher by telling my classmates there is really never a position where now is truly possible. You see, according to science our earth constantly turns on an imaginary line called its axis. The full turn takes twenty-four hours to complete. So unless you’re in a stationary position there can’t possibly be a now to deal with. You know what? I have to admit the fact of the matter is easy enough to explain. I wasn’t a fun student to have in a classroom filled with nice normal ten year old pupils. Well during the course of my ensuing years as an educator and director I too have had a few incidents where I too experienced a desire to kick someone in their axis. But unfortunately the earth's imaginary line trek had moved them from now to then. Ergo we the public have settled into the acceptable credo of now and then. In many ways what I said to that teacher when I was ten years old still applies. In closing,have a nice day and try to stand still long enough to enjoy it. Scientifically speaking that is! - Da Harv P.S. Another of my teachers during the same time frame ran an experiment proving that “air is everywhere”. I challenged that one as well, when I again jumped to my feet and announced to the class: “Not when you suck it out of a straw while drinking”. And that’s my little gem for today.

Notes on a Scorecard

https://vimeo.com/920268201?share=copy

Hi everyone, Da Harv here. And the music that’s coming up and under is that of a gal named Sarah Vaughn and her trio. It was recorded about 20 years ago in a place called Mister Kelly's in Chicago.

                                               

The other night I was having a dream, which I tend to do now. I put a book down after catching a couple hours of sleep and next thing you know something pops into my head. I think I’m awake, but I’m not. I’m having a dream. And this one is called: “Notes on a Scorecard”. But I’m not gonna keep score… But here’s the question: Who's keeping score? It used to be a mom, a dad that made me happy and glad. If I was a good boy, a new baseball glove would be coming my way. Who put them in charge? At home it was my mom. I never got to vote on what was right or wrong. “Just wait until your father gets home” she warned me. More often than not. Did they go to school and study the art of telling all of us what to do? No, nothing I can say for sure. Other than one simple rule: Under their roof they took total charge. So, when I opened my eyes in the morning. Uh oh it was a dream. So, I grabbed the pad that’s on the side of my bed and jotted some notes down and here’s what came out:

Try talking about nothing

Praying nothing is in the air

No need to create a space

Don’t concern yourself with dreams

Often they might bring despair

Whatever happened to good dreams?

Like school was out

Riding a horse on a carousel

Changing into play clothes

Before the playground

Returning home a winner

Every breeze seemed gentle

It was always summer

I dreamed my dreams without despair

A little boy, free without a care

Till next time. So long from Da Harv

Here comes the sun... I think

https://vimeo.com/913539954?share=copy Hi everybody. You know I often think back to other time periods sometimes. I jog down some notes about it and then go through those notes on an early Sunday. Well, thinking back to that time period. I often made pals from buddies I met while serving in the army during the “Korean Conflict”. A little after the fighting had stopped, eighth army headquarters began the process of reassigning me from one area to another, I found myself in a much more comfortable life situation then having to perform “Intelligence and Reconnaissance” duties, many times in some dangerous areas of the Korean countryside. I was glad to get the hell out of there. Prior to my being transferred most of us had experienced many false alarms announcing how the “Korean Conflict” would soon be quickly coming to its end. Well, this time the announcement was actually taking shape. But first…I’d like you to bear with me as I share a couple of days leading up to a monumental change for many of Americans like me who were simultaneously experiencing a similar happening. Within my mind set though, and never since have I experienced any of such exacting circumstances… and personal self-revelations from yours truly.   God had paid tribute to the people of the world on that day. It was July 27, at exactly 9:00PM there were many of us that night who gave thanks together as one. It occurred, that this mixed group of soldiers, so conceived by people from the world over, this one moment in time. We became spiritually imbibed. Remaining with me, forever etched, and perhaps an instrument parceling my soul forever… Seeking maintenance for my new spiritual demeanor  American service men and women  became one  Relenting magic took hold without warning  nor artificial truths  teams molded, clasped hands silently praying groups formed These young all together not ever again troubled by passage of time Would God answer prayers  All stood in the early hours Waiting enmeshed in dreams within this new world Lord, had peace been delivered  Sleep had cleared our eyes and though studying outside no one spoke. Fearful reality remained within  all together This patriotic band believing  the fighting would   not begin again  During the wee hours  without design, covered by a still darkness Without design many drifted outside into formation  Within the darkness quiet prayers were heard The dawn of the next morning  belief coveted us all Awakened  boys were heard becoming men Without words of explanation a circle of troopers had formed We gathered together as one With new light sunlight had replaced the darkness

Faces reflecting sentiment of prayers answered. I truly believe during that one moment in time, there was a divine meaning we shared together, one and all. Boy’s becoming men experience took hold that warm evening in July 1953. When the hand from a loftier place then we knew, brought us all together to stand knowingly as one anew.

-da harv

Please say hello to anyone who knows me

https://vimeo.com/916109151?share=copy

Hi everybody. Da harv here and I’d call this little piece: “Please say hello to anyone who knows me.” And I’d like to give you a little reason behind this thing. This little note to all of you out there, was stimulated by a man who became a friend of mine. “Ed Asner”. We proved together that differences with regard to politics can exist without dampening mutual love and respect for each other! Ed said to me one day after we had completed a voice over session together: “Boy Harv, they sure know your name all over the place. Don’t they?”. And as he was leaving the booth, Ed gave me a very wry smile, while flipping me the finger, middle finger. Well, Once upon a time. A noted celebrity, I can’t remember who he or she happened to be, seemed proud of the fact, while on a gig that they had in New York City. They had honored my less than serious request to ask an industry contact if they recognized the name Harvey Kalmenson. “Everybody knows da harv”, was, and has been the consensus reply for close to fifty years. So, is it any wonder my hat size has become demonstrably larger during the course of these many years?  The fact of the matter was and remains, it’s not a moniker created by yours truly. For those of you out there who have successfully emerged from the baby diaper era of life, be it known to all: The proper screen credit, was unceremoniously crowned for me (as) “da harv”, was bestowed in Chicago, by Cathy’s, now deceased “uncle Chuck; I ceremoniously referred to him as “Uncle Chucky”. In Chuckie's Chicago mindset he had placed me into the super great crowd of: da bears, da bulls, da cubs, da sox, da hawks, da sky, da stars, and da fire. I’ll bet you, without equivocation, Chicago sports fans are of equal demonstrative nature, on par with any fans in these great United States of ours. Certainly the term fan was derived from the word “fanatic”, is a perfect fit for them. You know, the other day I looked up the meaning of the word fan, or fan base. Here’s what I found: fan base it is a noun the fans of a sports team, pop music group, etc., considered as a distinct social grouping. Okay, I’ll buy that. You see… da harv has had this deep rooted desire in his belly, to know what someone is saying, or trying to convey by their message. For the life of me, try as I may, the more I listen to politicians, oftentimes the less true meaning I come away with. This condition of mine began many years ago. Here’s an example of where my feelings stem from. As a ten year old, back in Brooklyn, New York, all of my close friends…the kids who hung with me at P.S. 233, from early morning and until the sun went down, we were all true sports fans. Usually provided by nature, it was baseball, basketball, and football according to the season we were in. For da harv it was always the Dodger’s all the way. The team, the players, and their opponent teams in the National League were my responsibility to know everything about. That obligation also was religiously accepted by each of my baseball loving friends from the neighborhood. We were all from birth and to the exact moment at hand, complete and unadulterated Dodger fans! And if you’re interested here’s where the word unadulterated came from…

And of course there was some added attraction at Ebbets Field. What you’re looking at is the Dodgers Sym-phony. Phony the accent to the way you pronounce their name. They were originally Shorty and Borther Lou, before they were actually named Sym-phony. At Ebbets Field the fans themselves were the artistes. They included Hilda Chester and her cowbell, Eddie Bettan and his police whistle, and the Dodgers Sym-phony, as I said earlier, and a five, six, or seven-man unit of comically wacky amateur instrumentalists. Today I remember them all with much affection and nostalgia. It was an absolute understanding. If you lived in Brooklyn, you were and remained a lifetime Dodger fan. As a matter of fact the Sym-phony went all the way back to 1937. And boy did they crowd into that stadium.

And yes, you got that right. That’s Jackie Robinson, Number 42. He became our hero. My Dad described Jackie as a courageous man amongst men. And on that day, that fact wasn’t recognized by me at that exact moment in my young life. But it was a moment the world would find to be without equal! There we were, in Brooklyn, New York. In a place called Ebbets Field, preparing to not only watch a baseball game, but this fourteen year old boy, that’s me, and his Dad were about to experience arguably the most historic day in their lives. There I was alongside a man of genuine stature, my Father, Charles Kalmenson. His schooled academic prowess was what he managed to glean up until completion of his New York fourth grade education. An immigrant child who came here at age two only went to the fourth grade. What follows is a foto of my dad and I.

By the end of his life, Charlie, his IQ was well above average. He believed in the support of the human being. Dads credo was a simple one, live, learn, and share with those equally endowed with similar desires to succeed. There were thirty four thousand people jam packed in to watch the entrance of the very first black man to play major league baseball. I remember my Father’s words, “Sometime in the future, you’re going think about how much more important than a baseball game this really was.” And now, just an aside, a short fact of life I got from my Dad, and went on to observe within the commonality of Jackie Robinson, in that order. What I watched them do in their life’s practices, found its way into the family and business world of the USA. From beginnings, middles, and durations in this life of ours, we must feel the comforts of belonging as human beings, wherever we happen to be. Whether by design, or the road we either take by design, or happen to stumble on. In my case, dealing with a variety of humanity has become my design though not necessarily fostered by the extent of my human exertion. A little more history about da harv here… After completing high school, then becoming a starting pitcher on the Santa Monica Jr. college baseball team. I was offered an opportunity to play professional baseball after signing a baseball contract, I was injured by a fluke, one of life’s unexpected injuries. Surely that wasn’t a comfort zone! It became a first of what would become one of my life’s sizable stumbles. I then joined the army, and served until I ended the Korean Conflict. Woah! It had almost ended me. I did my time and was looking forward to my journey back home. Probably the single biggest stumble of my life. I didn’t realize what a good fit for me the army had become. I stumbled unaware of what a gifted leader type I had become. Anyway…hindsight is a wonderful thing, isn’t it. And so it’s time to complete my little diatribe. Stumbling is what God gives us all a great affinity to accomplish along the way. Personally, I should be in the “Guinness Book Of World Records” for “Stumbles.” Note to all of you people out there: To the best of my knowledge, Guinness doesn't have such a book. They discovered, there is no book out there big enough to list the entire world population of people who have stumbled along the way, individually by name. And that concludes my little story of the day for Sunday. Have a great Sunday and the rest of your week. Try not to stumble. Cordially, As Uncle Chucky would say: Thanks, da harv