Wednesday, March 05, 2003
The pace of the Retirees email has slowed to an "Obituary's forum."
The next newsletter could possibly have the meter of an Edgar Allan POE, or a Steven King, macabre diatribe. I guess we will just have to come to grips with the fact that we are all in the last home stretch of the human race.
Me! I wish I was in the tunnel of the Giants Stadium, listening to Howie Purnick, plan the demise of the Iraqi's, or Bruno Fucci telling the truck that he'll save the ass of the AD, by correcting the English, for the credits. This from a guy that failed the NYC Sanitation test.
Or the vision of Al Lorreto, and the beloved Jimmy Murphy, standing, and freezing over a cup-of-coffee, at an equipment hamper, telling lies about a great, but, imaginary golf shot, that sliced because a bird hit the ball in flight.
And even if these flights of fantasy, skitter across the remaining cells in the left side of my brain, they are still precious to me.
Working with my compatriots at CBS-Field, was the substance of my existence. I relished the camaraderie, the interplay, the political intrigue by the regular "Roadies." They are the foundation of my stories to the many new Virginian friends I have acquired.
I wear my tattered CBS field jacket proudly, to Church, to the Pancake House, to all the military functions.
I now know many of them and, am very proud of my Navy friends that are mostly deployed about this troubled world, performing their military magic on the unsuspecting crud of this world.
So, when I regale them with the stories of the legendary Fucci, or the slashing wit, and almost sacrilegious humor of Purnick, they are amazed that we could tolerate such irreverence.
I tell them that if you had thin skin, or a weakness that the carrion minds could explore, they would cut you to pieces and everyone could laugh, and not one would be offended.
The CBS hard-nose technicians could walk over the Iraqi's, and come out laughing.
One of my neighbors, can't quite understand how we could possibly be so crude to each other. I tell her, "It is because we at CBS, in our own inimitable style, break down the social barriers that are the secret biases that others hold, and let fester in their, breast." We, haven't got the time or inclination to be politically correct on each issue. It is infinitely easier to make a joke, or an aside, and then go on to greater glories."
The strict, "blind obedience" and staid atmosphere, of the military mind set, could use a little of a CBS field remote attitude, too clear, the air for these wonderfully trained freedom fighters.
I do go on, don't I? Well, you are the last group that I can talk to. I sit here in beautiful Virginia splendor, but, lonely, and I think of my past life at my favorite company.
You guys can telco-call me, even collect. We can swap lies about the shots that saved Bob Dailey ass, or how Klimsack could have possibly ruined two good hips, when he never moved off that damn tower of his.
So, for now, write, will you. I know you have a story or two, even a gripe. I even appreciate, a field boss demanding that I take his name off of my list. At least he finally communicated to me for the first time in 35 years. I still love him though.
Buonnotte, e' sogno d'oro. ( Good night , pleasant dreams)
Posted by Ted at 3/05/2003 10:13:00 PM