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Archive for March 7th, 2009

I was down at the office today, and ran into some of the contestants — at last, I think they were contestants — at The Arnold bodybuilding competition. Comparing their bulky physiques to my puny, flabby body reminded me of the Charles Atlas ad on the back of comic books when I was a kid. If you’ve ever seen it, you will remember it. It featured a photo of a grinning Charles Atlas with clenched fists, barechested, and wearing a leopard skin speedo-type bathing suit. The photo looked like it was taken in about 1928. We were told that Charles Atlas had been voted “The World’s Most Perfectly Developed Man,” or “The World’s Most Perfectly Proportioned Man,” or something like that. Do they still have that election?

The most memorable part of the ad was the accompanying comic, which was carefully calculated to strike directly at the core insecurities of virtually every boy. In the comic, a skinny, bespectacled “Mac” has taken his girlfriend to the beach. A bully comes by, takes the girl, kicks sand in Mac’s face, and laughs at him. The girl, apparently disgusted by having a boyfriend who turns out to be a humiliated wuss, says something dismissive like: “Don’t let it bother you, little man.” In the next panel, “Mac” is at home, where he says he is tired of being a “scarecrow,” kicks over a chair in frustration, and decides to use the Charles Atlas program. We then see a muscular, cut-up “Mac” punch the beach bully on the chin, and “Mac” finally is shown walking away with a girl on each arm. All this, just by using the Charles Atlas “dynamic tension” method!

It was tempting to send in for the Charles Atlas program, but the ad really raised more questions in my 10-year-old brain than it answered. First, was Charles Atlas still alive, and if so what did he look like? Where was this beach, anyway? Wasn’t there any security? Could mean-spirited bullies just roam the beach, terrorizing the weak, without any fear of punishment? If so, I was very glad to be growing up in the Midwest, where there weren’t any beaches for hundreds of miles. And what about the girl with “Mac”? Nice girlfriend, huh? My God, were all girls so shallow? If so, could “Mac” have compensated for his failings by driving a nice-looking car or buying the girl a nice meal? I guess the bully deserved his comeuppance, but wouldn’t he just have felt embarrassed and ashamed, like “Mac” did? At the end, when “Mac” walked away with the two girls, what were they going to do, anyway?

These questions never got answered, but they certainly were capable of occupying the mind of a 10-year-old kid on a rainy afternoon.

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Sometimes it just seems that time moves impossibly fast. Some years ago, Russell playing on a football team, the Chiefs, in the Gahanna junior football league program. Russell played on the line and one of his fellow linemen was a kid nicknamed Boo. Like all of his fellow linemen, Russell included, Boo was a nice, pleasant, friendly kid and a good teammate — not like some of the prima donnas who ran the ball.

Russell moved on, and we lost touch with Boo and his parents. A few years ago we saw his mother, who was working as one of the sales people at a nearby Brooks Brothers store. This past weekend when we went back to do some shopping there she reported that Boo decided that college was not for him. Instead, he wanted to serve his country. So, he volunteered for the Marines, has now completed his training, and soon will be shipped off to serve in Afghanistan.

It is hard to believe that the kid who played football with Russell is getting ready to fight the Taliban and other terrorist groups in the mountains of Afghanistan. At the same time, it is gratifying to know that there are people like Boo who are willing to serve their country and risk their lives in defense of our freedoms. Boo, you may not remember me, but I want to wish you the best of luck. Thank you sincerely for your personal sacrifice and patriotism!

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Russell and Kish on the Piazza San Marco

Russell and Kish on the Piazza San Marco

June 17, 2003:

We got up today at about 9 a.m. and went down for our complimentary breakfast at the hotel. All of our hotels — save the one in Florence — have included breakfast with the cost of the room, and the quality of the food and ambiance has varied widely. In Rome, the breakfast room was like a sauna (to me, at least), and Kish swears that the same food was put out on each of the three days of our stay. In Assisi, the breakfast buffet was much more complete and was served in a nice large area of the hotel restaurant. In Siena, the buffet was even more extensive, and we ate in a fine, shaded garden at the rear of the hotel with a wonderful view of the surrounding countryside. Here, the breakast room is a small back room of the restaurant next door, with a less extensive food selection and more of a diner-type atmosphere. At least the room is cool!

This morning I also received my requested “report fax” from Janie, my secretary, notifying me that all is well on the work front, which is good news., I have to say that I have had no trouble getting away from work here. It’s impossible to think about work when you are navigating medieval streets or driving through the Italian countryside.

After breakfast we headed to the Piazza San Marco to see San Marco Basilica. Our guidebooks had said men could not wear shorts, so we had required the boys to wear long pants. When we got to the church, of course, they were allowing people wearing shorts to enter. C’est la vie. San Marco is an impressive church, and it definitely seems to have more of the eastern, Byzantine influences that you would expect from the principal church of the principal city on the eastern coast of Italy, and one that was a maritime trading power for centuries. The church features gold frescoes and a stunning gold screen, but it is a bit too eastern for my tastes.

We returned to the hotel so the kids could change into shorts, then went off in search of different vistas. We walked to the Chiesa della Salute, which is one of the spits of land at one end of the Grand Canal. It takes a while to get there — there being no direct routes in Venice — and we were thwarted in our effort to get to the tip of the land spit due to construction. Nevertheless, the view was good and the church located there was nice, too.

We walked back for lunch near the Accademia, then Kish went for a rest at the hotel while the boys and I searched for some t-shirts. Richard and I bought some at reasonable prices (for Venice) and then the kids decided to take it easy at the hotel, too. I elected to strike out on my own and visit two more churches — Chiesa dei Frari and San Giovanni e Paoli. Chiesa dei Frari is a neat, beautiful church with an extraordinary altar painting by Titian. Strolling through that church gives a very strong sense of Venice’s history and past glory. The walls are covered by monuments and tombs to past notables, and the floors are covered with marble insets marking the final resting spots of other worthies.

They say you must get lost in Venice at last once, and I got lost after receiving the Chiesa dei Frari. Before long, I found myself in some unknown, sparsely populated neighborhood, and in my search for wall signs to provide some direction I stepped in some dog droppings. So, I backtracked, found a fountain to wash off my shoe, and eventually got my bearings. San Giovanni e Paoli is another stunning church, located next to a hospital. It apparently was the preferred church of Venice’s elite, and has the tombs of a number of Doges. By this time, though, I had experienced church overload, and was ready to return to the hotel.

When I got back to the hotel, Kish and the kids were ready to head out again. We walked to Piazza San Marco via a very circuitous route and had outrageously priced drinks at one of the trattorias along the Piazza. You pay a pretty penny for the ability to watch pigeons being fed by tourists, but it is an entertaining sight. Why some people are attracted to pigeons is beyond me — they are filthy! But, some parents let their kids buy the bird food and then stand in the middle of the piazza, with pigeons on their arms, heads, and hands. Ugh.

We found a nice, moderately priced place for dinner. Kish continued her poor luck in dinner selection, whereas the boys and I had fine meals. Poor Kish — she always tries to order something healthy, and then ends up with a pizza that appears to be covered with grass, or something similarly strange. After dinner, Richard and I sat at a cafe next to the Grand Canal, then we turned in for the night.

I have enjoyed Venice very much. It is a languid, old, interesting place — well worth visiting. Unlike Florence, it does not seem to make much pretense, and it therefore becomes all the more enjoyable. We saw dogs walking the narrow streets, a gondola with a full-throated singer accompanied by an accordion, a mime dressed totally in white and standing on a box so that he looked like a statue, and other points of human interest. What a remarkable place!

The Grand Canal

The Grand Canal

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