"Things That Make Us Smile"

It’s early in the morning of a typical workday

This cold morning, “the sun is a-shining to welcome the day”
As the Brits would say, "Heigh-ho! Come to the fair!"

Yours to savor alone
Come to the fair this morning

Whatever you think it means
In your mind's eye, sing it and say it

Conjure what makes you smile

For today, you, my dear friend, belong
Wherever you are
Today at the fair

Be in this state of belonging
If you dare… if you dare…

1/18/23

HK

"Because You Asked..."

Question One:

        From the mouth of a former student after completing his Working Pro class — six weeks with Cathy Kalmenson — during our Q & A. The student raised his hand and proceeded with what he thought was an important question of me: “Da harv, how did you get the name 'da harv'?”
        For years now, I often get questions about my nickname: “da harv”. Hopefully, this will be the last time I answer in written form. It all began as a joke by me about thirty years ago. Please forgive me if I don’t recall exactly the day or time of day it took place and shape.

Chicago, Christmas time, approx. 1993
A family gathering at one of Cathy’s relative's homes — usually an aunt, uncle, or cousin hosting the event.

        It was during a short smoking break, outdoors, where a few of us gathered for a quick few puffs before freezing to death in the snow and cold of a typical Chicago winter storm. I was particularly enamored by the way Chicago people refer to things when they talk about their favorite sports teams. Like da Bears, da Bulls, da Cubs, da Hawks.
        It was Cathy’s uncle, Chuck, while in a sports conversation with me, referred to his favorite two teams as “da Bears and da Bulls”. I, in turn, found myself in a friendly conversation referring to him as “Cathy’s favorite Uncle Chucky”. To this, he quickly replied, “My name is Chuck!” “Okay”, I replied, “and you can call me da harv!” Let da games begin. And so they did.
        When Cathy and I returned to Los Angeles, I mistakenly used the nickname during a conversation with an actor who was in for me to direct during a session. It turned out he had heard my nickname from a friend in Chicago during a phone conversation. I would have to say Chicagoans are good, if not great, conversationalists. They love to talk about almost anything with almost anyone.

Question Two:

        Following last week's Sunday post, many of you wanted to know about the three films I mentioned that influenced my life at a very early age. Beginning as a child six years of age, I accompanied, and was almost always instigated by, my father. Please take note, the films I have listed for you are not necessarily in the correct chronological order as the date they were actually released (i.e. “The Wizard of Oz” was released in 1939).

“The Wizard of Oz”(1939)

        Da harv was six. My dad and I saw the film together at least three times. It was as if we were the same age —singing, dancing, astonished, and totally mesmerized. My dad, a man who came to this wonderland country of ours as a two-year-old immigrant, now seeking the sights and sounds while enjoying his human adult emergence with me as father and son. I didn’t know it then, but by God, I know it now, we were becoming lifelong pals.

“White Heat”(1949)

Starring James Cagney & Virginia Mayo

        My dad loved James Cagney because of his tougher-than-life portrayals. Somehow, someway, he identified with the gangster side of this bigger-than-life actor whom many critics knew as “the diminutive one”. Cagney was actually one of the most famous short actors in the business; he stood five-four-and-one-half inches tall. My dad was five foot five. I, on the other hand, loved Virginia Mayo. At the time, I had turned sixteen, and believe me when I say a gal like Virginia would have been enough to make this kid give up baseball.

“The Pride of the Yankees” (1942)

Starring Gary Cooper

        For what it’s worth, I was far too young to have seen Lou Gehrig play the game I grew to love. What I did get to see and share with my father was the effect the movie had on my dad as a man. Lou Gehrig and Charles Kalmenson were about the same age. I believe there was a six-month gap between them.
        I guess what emotionally got to us the most was Lou’s farewell speech during his final day at Yankee Stadium. We’ve included it below for your listening pleasure.

And, of course, my favorite Yankees picture:

The Pride of the Yankees, 1942. FROM EVERETT COLLECTION.

They were number three and number four in the Yankees lineup. Can you guess their names?

Harvey Kalmenson

"Making friends?

Sometimes, Not Always"

        The year was 1942… The place, East Flatbush, in Brooklyn, New York. We lived between Avenue A & B. Directly across from the public school, P.S. 233. Uttered from the mouth of a known adversary, my closest friend, Carl: “Give me a break, will you, please? Can’t you see I’m up to things here? What? Speak up. What do I want to be your friend for? Who cares what kind of tricks you can do with a basketball? Go away, will you, please? I’m trying to choose up sides for our basketball workout!”

        Not exactly a nice way to welcome a new kid on the block, don’t you think? It was this kid's first day in what we referred to as our schoolyard. This guy had the nerve to march right up to Carl, offering to shake his hand. I just stood there watching. It really didn’t matter to me. Carl was our P.S. 233 number two man. The new kid wasn’t going to become welcome unless he had my approval. Of our crowd of ten-year-olds, it was a fact of life, Carl was always number two. I was always designated as number one, kind of like the first president of the United States.

“First in war. First in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.”

        The moniker was given to me because I had the lead role, playing the part of “George Washington” in our school's fourth-grade play — the theme being the “Revolutionary War”. I believe the year was 1942. World War II was upon us.

        For what it’s worth, the new kid became one of our first choices to play as a regular in every sport we kids happened to be playing at the time. His nickname was “Bibi”, short for Benjamin. Bibi and I became the team leaders on our P.S. 233 school basketball team. Of all my friends, he also became my dad's favorite as well.

        The three of us spent many a day together. With my father at the wheel of the Chevy, the three of us would speed our way to see the Dodgers, the Giants, or the Yankees play. It was a great time to be a young and very active kid living in Brooklyn. My dad was a kid just like Bibi and me. Dad drove his Chevy as if it was a race car. The Brooklyn Bridge was our primary road to speed on. My dad would announce proudly how he was about to pass another car on the bridge. All three of us would laugh and cheer him on.

Three Movies That Started It All (For Me)

        It began each winter. The school would let out at around 3 in the afternoon, Monday through Friday, and within ten minutes, I’d be firmly planted in my warm and comfortable seat at “The Pitkin Theater”. Each and every weekday I was glued, all by myself, to whatever the double feature was showing.

My dad's car was a 1937 Chevrolet sedan he bought in 1939 and kept until he purchased a 1947 Plymouth.

        1947 Plymouth, the car he drove to California from New York. I was a high school tenth grader by then, age fourteen. It was the car I drove for my very first California driver’s license. My world would never be the same.

        For the moment, the high school consisted of sports and the arts. I rarely cracked open a book. I had become a very confirmed poor student, or so I thought. It took two years for my mind to change. Music, sports, and theater had busily replaced everything else in my life. Without being consciously aware of it, “[t]hings, they were a-changing!” Big time.

Harvey Kalmenson

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To all of our past and present supporters during the course of the past fifty years, please be happily advised:

Due to the outstanding success of our now firmly established Zoom Voiceover Workshops, Cathy and I are extremely pleased to announce we are, by popular demand, increasing the number of Voiceover classes we will be presenting during the year ahead.

Please come grow with us in 2023. Our integrity remains our most solid driving force. Please help to express your continued confidence in our continued presentation of the Kalmenson & Kalmenson Method. Please tell a friend about our classes. We always cherish your referrals!

The Storyteller

"Were we always storytellers?"
A RESOUNDING YES!

Charles Dickens by Frith | © Public Domain/WikiCommons

        🎺 Ta-ta-ra! And my favorite storyteller of all time, perhaps considered the most notable G.O.A.T ever heard, is the one and only Vin Scully. Then there was “A Tale of Two Cities”, written by Charles Dickens, and serialized in the eighteen hundreds. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...”

        It was considered to be, along with his “A Christmas Carol”, to be two of the greatest novels ever. Or as we say today, he was the “G.O.A.T.”, a sports analogy originally spoken by Muhammad Ali, as explained to me by the one and only Howard Cosell. You may notice as I go along, da harv can’t avoid, from time to time, being a name dropper.

        In those days, it was known as “the thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat”, originally written by Stanley Ralph Ross. This was the lead-in to ABC's Wide World of Sports, and the intro to the original Monday Night Football. "ABC's weekend extravaganzas [are] about everything that can be called a sports event." It aired from April 1961 to January 1998.

Don, Howard, and Frank

        Storytelling. It isn’t new folks. And although there are many out there in dreamland claiming to be in their very new world of discovery, I find myself having to place them in my own personal gradient group known as the professionally uninformed.

        Oftentimes as your road in life appears too steep to climb, we tell ourselves, or anyone within the sound of our voice: “This grade is too steep to ascend”. Then what occurs becomes a sanctity for the less-than-average culprit whose goal in life’s direction is their downward descent. Thereby becoming a prime listener to any kind of story you choose to convey.

        It has been proven, no matter how untrue the story you happen to be telling is a very modest falsehood, you’ll be certain to find an audience who will become vacant-headed followers.

Friends, what’s the point of all this?

Memories: from every corner of everyone’s mind

Some used often every day

Some pushed away

Some people store them gleefully

Especially when they choose to recall

Little or big things

“A night at the opera”

A child's first trip

Grown up now, she remembers the mall

Many guys smile about their first car

Or standing before a preacher

Reliving a trip down the aisle

From two and a half until now

Relishing, perhaps applauding

From way back when

The glories life gives us

All remaining to use now

Awakening remembrances

Of the past

Forever yours

Methods we expound

Tell about morning, afternoon, and evening

Praying for success, joy, and contentment

Within everything we’ve found

What the days

Discoveries of sight and sound

All the benefits of nature

Yours to keep and recall

From earth's first beginnings

All and everything

Trusted senses will prevail

You’ve become a storyteller now

Tell all you wish to tell

From the shallowest depths

Unleash and harvest nature's gale

Bringing back from the past

All is new again

Yours to recall

Becoming a storyteller when.

By Harvey Kalmenson
December 2022