Notes on a page...

NOTES ON A PAGE, WITHOUT RAGE   Hold on to it It came upon me New and bright Then eyes opened Savoring yesterday’s delight Enjoyable fleeting My own moment or two   Feet firmly planted Stepping down from my bed Craving remembrance Of my dearest dream ever Struggling to recapture My momentary delight  Then a blink Reality of the day Where did it go Only a dream I know Done it before Like many Wanting it to last Needing much more

I loved my dream Ever praying for its encore I’ll try again tonight Closing my eyes Thoughts traveling back With smiles and sounds Echoing of an era When teachers weren’t clowns

My dreams were of baseball Playing and winning Traveling to every nook and cranny To ballparks all over towns and cities Everywhere we went People cheering and booing When games came to an end All the neighborhood people Stood and cheered for us all We all shook hands Then we were gone It wasn’t a dream When I played as a very young man It was the way we were In almost every town

I heard a new word yesterday Systemic My mom and dad never said it Truth be told I don’t like the way it sounds Only the words, “Home is where the heart is” Uttered by teachers Not paid to be clowns   Playing the game Now long gone But like mom and dad Good stuff lingers on   My dad took me to see Jackie Robinson Maybe I am systemic Cause the beat in my heart Still goes on In voice casting Cathy and da harv cast winners It’s not how you look IT’S HOW YOU SOUND!   - Harvey Kalmenson –

Image(s) Source: Google

Out of Necessity

"Out of necessity: History, explained to a child"

To his adoring brood, Abe speaks of biblical facts:

Our elected officials In service of We who are free Power driven classic wastrels they They sit while pondering Lacking knowledge to share Void of imagination Boredom reeks Another day's performance Bearing an infamous stink Pernicious ways Shared without care These were selected brethren Making promises they would not keep

What must we do Father Abe’s eldest asks Why not read that lyric to them, suggested good wife Mary Todd The one your friend, da harv, wrote to you When he too Felt the die was cast Good idea was Abe’s reply   "Vote them out, that’s what America's all about" They said some bad stuff Things I didn’t care to hear stuff Like my country’s not good Or my flag…take it down You know, like always the kind of "make a patriot mad" stuff Without love, they expound It’s in my heart to sing now What the good book explains I have to sing now What this patriot has to say  -hk-   …and Mary mused, "da harv must set it to music one day." "He will, I am sure", thought Mr. Lincoln. And, of course, da harv did. One day it will be sung as a reminder to all who are elected by us; you’re here to serve us, certainly not yourselves. It is our will, that will to be served. Show us what you got Do what you say Tomorrow comes quickly We can vote you out God willing That’s what America is all about.

Source for images: Google

Batter Up

BATTER UP, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT

I was thinking—from things like feet, arms, legs, skin, breathing, and a few other parts, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, mirroring all of us as human beings—comes now da harv’s most outstanding, but least remotely lucrative discovery of all time:   Baseball, a part of life, the greatest game we are permitted to play. Let this game continue!

Dedicated to those who are encyclopedic with regard to having knowledge about the American game of baseball, and those who know absolutely nothing about the sport at all.   Drinking now To what will finally be said Free at last, free at last; Listen, listen Children of the world Today we can all be on the same page, With what LIFE offers next Bravo, bravo For what lies ahead Outstanding they call it If indeed they will listen To what’s provided them All the world’s children Every dweller Forever and ever In every land They’ll glean and glisten Don’t take any pitch for granted Swing at what’s thrown At you, Every day As hard as you can Always swing, babies, swing for the fences Baseball lore for life -hk-         And for dem who played the game, way back when it was invented, nothing was worse than taking the last strike… When I say taking it, the last strike, it means you just stood there. Someone hits you in the face and you don’t hit back, it means you’re taking it. And in baseball, if you don’t swing you’re taking the pitch…         If you happen to take three pitches, and the umpire happens to decide they were all in the strike zone, as he sees it to be, then guess what…the umpire yells "you’re out!", while shaking his fist, or giving you another unfavorable gesture:

And all because you didn’t swing the bat! It’s not because you didn’t hit the ball; you never gave yourself or your teammates a chance to win the game.         A long time ago, one of our coaches was heard saying to a teammate who had just been called out after taking (not swinging) a called third strike, “Have you always been such a wimp?" A very embarrassing moment, don’t you think? And that’s enough about baseball, except for how it applies to life…yours, mine, and just about everyone else!           If you don’t take a chance, you never can win… unless somebody drops it on your doorstep; congratulations, you’re a winner without even trying. I don’t know anybody, or ever read about anyone who pulled that one off—maybe you’ll be the first.         Sure, there are those of you who are saying right now, "what about inheriting a great deal of money, or winning the lottery?" Now that’s truly a bunch of crap. If something like that ever happens for da harv, I’ll print a retraction for you to read. Or come to think about it, if I had a big score, the first thing I’ll have to do is make room in our garage for my Bentley. Then it would be off to Gucci, in order to take steps towards reactivating my wardrobe.

Picture of my mom and dad on a warm Sunday morning circa 1953, sent to me as I served in Korea. The caption reads: To Harvey, swing at life every day.  They were both capable of doing anything at any time.

Life and baseball have so much in common. There are good folks around every town. All you have to do is look for them, and not be afraid to swing that bat. We all find we’re provided with different abilities.         In this life of ours, no two people swing the bat exactly the same way: different strokes for different folks. Where most people should lean is in a direction, not worrying about how to do it. If you keep swinging, one day, God-willing, you will hit that damn ball, no matter who's pitching it! And one more thing, just to prove my baseball point of view:         What follows is a drill I presented to a very special group of students while conducting a weekend seminar at the University of Southern California, circa June 1981, a mere forty years ago. I remember it as if it was yesterday.   MY DELIVERY TO THE STUDENTS:         Today, we’re going to begin with a self-generating seminar. What that means, simply stated: I’m going to give you the subject, and you’re going to prepare a sentence or two explaining your choice. The subject for you all to write about are: winners. Write about what winners have in common, in your opinion. YOU MUST BE FACTUAL—TELL THE TRUTH!         As an example, regardless of how people become, winners have the strength and mental fortitude to stay the course—they keep swinging the bat. They don’t stand still. Use as few words as possible. The fewer the number of words you write, the easier it will be for your listener to understand your meaning, regardless the subject. Make sure you only write and convey the truth. Try to write an example of a person who you might emulate within your own personal future. A few of the submissions: 1. Winners never stop working out, striving to improve is their most salient descriptive! 2. My mom and dad got it from their parents; they never complained to us kids about what life dished out. 3. Teachers like you. I love to laugh as I learn, it always feels like you’re talking to me.         My premise then is almost exactly the way it remains today. Creatively, or just blah blah blah, in an account of something few folks will care about anyway. History is an agent of success, yours forever to acquire and use for betterment! I told my students then, and it bears repeating, to all those with success aspirations:   Please open each day with a smile The gist being your personal wish By way of books and history Seek laughter within what truth will bring Honesty has lasted since forever began Deceit deserts even the strongest man   And for all actors Ever searching for success Looking for an icon Dreaming to replicate Understand It’s there before you Your truth, won’t let you down You above all people Know it best Be a glean machine A book and some history Small doses each and every day A simple smile Turns to laughter Tomorrow morning With a smile A new actor, a new way History in your making -hk-

Through the Eyes of Gucci

“THROUGH THE EYES OF GUCCI” 27 March 2021

Ok, Ok, before you think da harv is absolutely nuts, pleasah, pleasah, (datsa Eye-tal-ee-on-no) listen to what I have to say. I’ll get to Gucci in a minute.           From the time I was a little kid I gravitated towards looking good, like dressing well; I got the idea from my dad. While I didn’t dress in a suit and tie when attending grade school, I definitely was a spit and polish kind of kid. For me, grade school was during the zoot suit era.   "The zoot suit originated in an African American comedy show in the 1930s and was popularized by jazz singers. Cab Calloway wore them, called them "totally and truly American"..." Source: Wikipedia   Note: At the time, World War II was ablaze. Many immigrant families signified their extreme pride in the country. Patriotism was an all-equaling fact of life. And at the same time period our entertainment folks, particularly the film industry, were cranking out an ever-increasing genre of war movies.

Believe it or not, at the time little da harv was able to sing many of Cab Calloway’s songs. My grandmother, on my dad's side, along with many of the relatives thought it was a blast—especially Cab's big hit, “Minnie the Moocher”; as the song goes, “Minnie had a heart as big as a whale... She was a low-down hoochie coocher”.

But I do digress, Gucci on Rodeo Dr. in Beverly Hills is not where I normally do my clothes-shopping. Factually, I’ve never purchased anything from them; even after I had an extremely good earnings windfall. The old worrywart in me prevented the necessary courage to take hold of who I really am, although it’s not to say I didn’t want to shop there. Italian leather, in my opinion, is the finest, especially when used by Gucci to make their hand-made loafers. Up and until just the other day, the name Gucci was destined to remain, along with Bentley, on my bucket list.

The new Gucci restaurant, Rodeo Drive, Beverly Hills...

…and this, of course, is a far cry from the first Gucci operation founded in 1921, in Florence, Italy.         At this point, you may be wondering why I chose to bring up the subject of “Gucci”. Well, the answer is easy enough to understand; I finally got to buy something with the Gucci name on it—not in a Gucci store, but of all places, Costco optometry—I now have in my possession genuine Gucci frames for my eyeglasses.         This morning, I noticed I was actually strutting around my balcony garden—you guessed it—wearing my newfound acquisition, my genuine Gucci glasses. Imagine the Puccini music backdrop for nature's lighting of the da harv’s latest balcony garden production. Without misconception, the morning sun coming through, pushed by a special breeze; plants were overheard, speaking of how well I looked to them. When I put those glasses on, instantly, da harv became that little kid again.           The old guy would be looking down on a very personal moment he had helped to create so very many years ago in 1921. "Born to a simple Italian leather goods maker, Guccio Gucci was a porter at the Savoy hotel in London when he first became enamored with the glamorous suitcases that the guests arrived with from all over the globe." Source: "History of Gucci - Charting the Evolution of Gucci" And one more thing:         My grandfather, Max Kalmenson, was born in the same era as Guccio Gucci. He, too, was a saddle maker by trade. My father, Charles Kalmenson, born in 1902, immigrated to the United States from Russia two years later, along with his older brother Ben, and my two grandparents, Ethel and Max. My father at age eighteen entered his own business as a leather craftsman in the manufacturing of ladies' handbags. My dad was accomplished at everything he endeavored: businessman, musician, artist, athlete, and family protector. My dad never went past the third grade in school.         It’s good to have a gifted man as your best friend. My friend led a life of sacrifice. hk