Sunday, March 17, 2024

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.

Monday, March 11, 2024

Notes on a Scorecard




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

Thursday, March 7, 2024

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







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

A Lasting Inspiration

 



Hi everyone, Da Harv here and welcome to my library. Besides my Dad… He became my next favorite…WIT!

Winston Churchill, November 30, 1874 - January 24, 1965. That would make him a Sagittarius just like Da Harv.



It was on or about 1965, when I had reached the ripe old age of 32. It was then when I began devoting an almost monthly experience into the life and times of perhaps the greatest world leader that ever lived. He was Sir Winston Churchill. In May 1940, Churchill, “British Bulldog”, as he was known, became “Prime Minister '' of Great Britain. For over fifty years, I’ve been sporadically enjoying listening to words of inspiration being offered by my favorite “Nobel Prize Winner”, for Literature, my hero as well, Winston Churchill.

I’d like to offer to all that know Da Harv as an educator my recommendation of a book I am currently in the process of personally enjoying. It’s titled, “The Definitive WIT of Winston Churchill”. It was edited by Richard Langworth.




In my opinion, you won’t find a more definitive work than what Richard M. Langworth has been able to compile. The sheer volumes of Winston Churchill’s work are represented in the most comprehensive compilation of “Churchill Witticisms" I’ve ever come across.



Philip Clark was a voice-over actor who for many years came to our studio to audition for voice over commercials. Aside from being a very talented performer, Philip was a “Winston Churchill”, high-powered buff, and prideful enthusiast of “Winnies” work, and it goes nice together. He would’ve enjoyed that. Of course, it also talks about drinking and cigar smoking habits. I enjoyed Philip’s stories, and he in turn showed equal relish for mine. (although I would never claim to have risen to the comprehensive heights of Churchill's expertise Philip did).

Philip and I enjoyed every discussion we ever had about “Bulldog”. It made us both laugh out loud I might say. My favorite to tell Philip about was how I worked many of our Winston Churchill stories into my teaching repertoire. Especially when the class was made up of younger people who hadn’t known much about this great man.

And one remembrance discovered by Richard Langworth that is particularly charming: “The British Empire and the United States will have to be somewhat mixed together in some of their affairs for mutual and general advantage.” And then Winston might’ve coughed, cleared his throat and began singing. …Like the Mississippi, it just keeps rolling along.

It was 1940 Winston Churchill sang all the way back to Downing Street in the back of his car after his BBC Broadcast of that speech. And from my musical volume three of Great Speeches of the 20th century (cut #3). Prime Minister Winston Churchill has duplicated his Address to the nation on the R.A.F (Royal Air Force).

“… this was their finest hour.” And that little phrase in that one speech that one time was taught in every college that even remotely touched on politics. In that moment, the city of London Number 10 Downing Street was the prime target of the German Luftwaffe. That term: “this was the finest hour” was from the greatest leader of that era. He walked, or you could say barged out on to the street knowing it was the most dangerous thing he had ever done in his life. And huddled with people in the streets as bombs fell around him.

It was London, England, June 18th, 1940. A time for the world to remember and never ever forget. And please listen closely my dearest of friends. At the time of this broadcast, our great world leader may have been tired, but never out as his country’s foremost leader.




For some reason, children love hearing about how close the USA and Great Britain our friends across the pond were and remain with us today.

You're all very welcome to listen. Love and learn.

Truly yours, the very humble, Da Harv. And were Churchill here today, he would say as a Bulldog: “As well you should be!”

-da harv

Friday, February 9, 2024

Epitome

 

https://vimeo.com/911017477?share=copy


Hi Everybody. This particular Sunday, February 4, 2024, is and will remain historically a wet day! I can remember back, people talking about this or that. Trying to figure out a quandary they all seemed to be in at the time.Nary a man, woman, or child has one day or another when they find themselves in a universal quandary. 

 

Because every day is different? Yes, that was a question mark.

Is that what it’s going to be from now and from this day forward?

Whoops that was another question mark?

 

Years ago, it appeared to me as a very young and uninformed guy, life was loaded with a preponderance of “what if’s”. I was beginning to hear, and learn about all of those things. I didn’t realize it then, but I was developing an overpowering desire to move up in the world. After all, it was time! Harvey Kalmenson had just turned thirteen.

 

Life’s what if’s, from questions to positive thinking encouraged reaching for the epitome I was determined to accomplish during my lifetime.

 

Tonight, before you fall asleep. You might try something I try quite often. Present your secret mind bent to any and all who may be paying attention. You see, while you're sleeping for whatever happens.

For what you

And you alone seek 

Life as you order it to become

Remaining forever

Perhaps a single day longer. 

Admiring dreams ordered 

They became forever yours

The embodiment of personification

A God like “Dream Road”

The “Epitome” for where you belong

And then the very next day,

With the mere encouragement of last night

A dream enters your real world

Replacing a “what if”,

You’ve received a what is”,

Likely an angel's reply

Two new roads to choose from

They call it a “fork”.

Both roads look the same.

But one side may lead to a lake.

And you dear friend, haven’t learned to swim, as yet.

What to do?

What to take with?

What to leave behind?


 

“What a difference a day makes” 

Dina Washington

What a difference a day made, twenty four little hours

Brought the sun and the flowers where there use to be rain

My yesterday was blue dear

Today I'm a part of you dear

My lonely nights are through dear

Since you said you were mine

Oh, what a difference a day made

There's a rainbow before me

Skies above can't be stormy since that moment of bliss

That thrilling kiss

It's heaven when you find romance on your menu

What a difference a day made

And the difference is you, is you

My yesterday was blue dear

Still I'm a part of you dear

My lonely nights are through dear

Since you said you were mine

Oh, what a difference a day made

There's a rainbow before me

Skies above can't be stormy since that moment of bliss

That thrilling kiss

It's heaven when you find romance on your menu

What a difference a day made

And the difference is you, is you, is you.



Every day is different. Here’s a poem I read many years ago. It’s called “The Road Not Taken” by “Robert Frost:


The Road Not Taken


Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one road as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth.

 

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear.

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

 

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

 

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

 

And so I'll just repeat again. I found, every day is different, isn’t it? At least that is what I found to be an absolute. If there is a bottom to it all. Why not look up? You may find what I have. The very top may just become an endless perch to swing with and on!

 

Thank you all for listening and reading what I have compiled during my different forks in the road!                              

  

da harv here, signing off!

Wednesday, January 31, 2024

Have you noticed? There's been a change in the weather?

 



There'll be a change in the weather;

And a change in the sea

From now on there'll be a change in me;

My walk will be different, my talk and my name --

Nothin' about me gonna be the same

I'm gonna change my way of livin'

And if that ain't enough

I'm gonna change the way I strut my stuff

Cause nobody wants you when you're old and gray --

There'll be some changes made today

There'll be some changes made.




Julie London was a mainstay in our country at the time. Lots of arguments going with what’s going to happen to advertising, but the fact was if you were around it did nothing but good. And if you happen to be interested…I directed Julie London on a VO audition a little more than 40 years ago. The biggest money spenders on TV advertising at the time were the tobacco companies, mainly cigarettes. I mean you couldn’t watch a movie without seeing a noted star smoking. “Julie London” was one of them. Who was known to smoke three packs every day. Her cause of death was attributed to lung cancer. Didn’t come as a surprise.


Never the less we had an awful lot of good things going on to look up to. On April 1, 1970, President Richard Nixon signed legislation officially banning cigarette ads on television and radio. You could safely say my dear friends, that- that legislation by our congress, men and women, have been some of the great moves ever by our politicians. Some fifty plus years ago! Can you imagine that? The diminishing factor of not smoking has considerably helped cut into the main cause of lung cancer. Not just in our beautiful United States of America, but all over this planet. FYI: What was a twenty cent per pack of cigarettes then. Today in many places costs as much as six bucks. 


But long before that, there was a time that I was in the group known as little kids it was a given. Dad came home from work, and somehow, some way we played catch. It became our father and son ritual. Most importantly, my father was teaching me how to learn a thing or two of value each and every day we were together. Baseball became his driving force for making it easy for him to teach me things. Well, here's kind of an example:


It was just one single day, I guess. When he came home from work. He was saying to me: “Well, there's going to be a lot more scoring in baseball next year.” And I said: “What do you mean by that, Dad?” And he said: “Well, rumor has it that they're going to make the ball livelier, there's going to be more scoring because people are going to be hitting more home runs.” And I said to him: “How in the world, did you know that?” I was interested. He had my attention. He said: “Well, the inside of a baseball, was stuffed with things. You find out that what's inside is pretty dead. You know, the ball doesn't bounce very well anymore. So, baseball, it's just made to be hard and last a little longer.” That was the year of buying something and making it last. As opposed to the enjoyment it gave you. “But now whatthey're talking about doing is. Putting a livelier like piece of cork inside so that when the batter hits it, it'll go further.” 


He went on to tell me how it wasn’t really that difficult to do. He pointed out to me the people who run baseball did the very same thing many years ago. When a ballplayer named “Babe Ruth” broke the home run record and hit sixty in one season. The owners were giving the people what they wanted: More excitement at the games. (Well, It’s just like today. The more people who come out to the ballpark, the more money the team owners make. It’s good for all concerned. They call it “Capitalism”)

The clock kept ticking, I kept growing and low and behold then came along… “Only In America”


         Many years ago, I read a book entitled “Only In America”. It was written by an author named “Harry Golden”. Hard to believe, the year was 1958. (The not yet da harv was twenty-five years of age). Free of being as prideful as I am today. (It wasn’t any comparison; I still had a long way to go with the army and all.) About our American accomplishments, “Harry Goldens” in-depth observations struck a lasting note with me forever more. 


         Thinking back often times for me has been the direct stimulus for forward movement. The story of the greatest country in the history of the world continues to be told. Writers, politicians, and the most ardently meaningful human contributors to life and the betterment of man continue to unabashedly sing the praises of what the American way of life continues to build from within.

Please listen to my patriotic credo that musically follows.


It’s entitled: “Vote Them Out. It’s What Americas All About”.

Music by Todd Carlon

Lyrics by Harvey Kalmenson AKA da harv




         Have you noticed? There's been a change in the weather?