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The Pro Football Hall of Fame

The NFL was something I experienced with others, initially with my father.

Wednesday, July 13, 2016, Canton, Ohio

Last year, when we knew we would be going to the Olin Family Reunion in Ashtabula, Ohio, I proclaimed that one of the other activities I REALLY wanted to do is to visit the Pro Football Hall of Fame. This is football as in the American game, not what Americans call soccer.

I’m a sucker for a good HoF. I’ve been to the Basketball one in Springfield, MA with The Wife (and infant Daughter); the surprisingly enjoyable Horse Racing HoF in Saratoga Springs, NY, with The Wife; and the Baseball HoF in Cooperstown, NY, which I’ve been to several times, going back to my childhood.

The Pro Football Hall of Fame provided a very entertaining time for me, as I was captivated about the history, from the 1920s, with highlights from each decade. On one wall was the won-loss record of every team, current or defunct, for every season.

The social impact of the sport was on display, from the reintegration of the NFL in the 1940s to Joe Namath’s pantyhose commercial.

And checking out the information about the players was fun. It’s true that I don’t much follow the National Football League much these past several years, and couldn’t tell you who won the Super Bowl two or three years ago. But I could tell you who was in the first five of them.

The NFL was something I experienced with others, initially with my father, watching the New York Giants each week of the season, then various friends. (I remember specifically that a now-ex of mine fell on the black ice the day the Buffalo Bills came back from the largest playoff deficit ever.)

Alas, it wasn’t nearly as much fun for The Wife and The Daughter. They were on some Xbox, trying to play. But they know so little about the fundamentals of the game that they kept getting “delay of game” penalties.

In fact, the Daughter’s favorite thing was noticing this utility poll very near the building, and recognizing it as a goalpost.

We did get lunch there – it wasn’t outrageously expensive – and heard on the NFL newsfeed that New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady’s four-game suspension would be reinstated. Good or bad news, depending on one’s rooting interests.

I recommend the Pro Football Hall of Fame for even the casual NFL fan or former fan, but not so much for those who don’t care about the game at all.

Music Throwback Saturday: Am I Asking Too Much

R Dean Taylor had an unlikely Motown hit of his own, Indiana Wants Me

One of the earlier compact discs I bought was The Never-Before-Released Masters by Diana Ross and the Supremes. It was definitely a mixed bag of songs from 1961 through 1969 that represented both major iterations of the group: Mary Wilson and Diana Ross with the late Florence Ballard, and after the group name change, with Cindy Birdsong.

Among other things, the album contains recordings for the unreleased album Diana Ross & The Supremes Sing Disney Classics, not my favorite section of the collection. And the cover of the Classics IV hit Stormy is unnecessary. I do enjoy some of the covers of other Motown artists.

My favorite song on the album is Am I Asking Too Much. It was written by R. Dean Taylor and Deke Richards, R Dean Taylor had an unlikely Motown hit of his own, Indiana Wants Me, #5 pop on the Billboard pop charts in 1970. Deke Richards died of esophageal cancer on March 24, 2013, at age 68.

The songwriting credits immediately suggested the Diana/Mary/Cindy period, since most of their earlier hits were by Holland/Dozier/Holland. Indeed, Taylor and Richards were co-writers on the #1 hit Love Child. Am I Asking Too Much was recorded on March 26, 1968, according to the Don’t Forget The Motor City website.

Listen to:

Am I Asking Too Much – Diana Ross and the Supremes HERE

Sweet Thing (William Robinson-Terry Johnson-Al Cleveland) – Diana Ross and the Supremes HERE or HERE

Indiana Wants Me – R. Dean Taylor HERE or HERE

Movie review: Life, Animated

The trailer of Life, Animated suggested more of a Disney happy ending.

The trailer was so intriguing that the whole family went to the Spectrum Theatre in Albany on a Saturday night to see the movie Life, Animated.

Back in 2014, I happened to see Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Ron Suskind being interviewed on some program, talking about his then-new book, Life, Animated: A Story of Sidekicks, Heroes, and Autism. He, his wife Cornelia, and their older son Walter were dealing with Ron and Cornelia’s younger son Owen’s autism. Much less was known about the disability in 1993, when Owen was first diagnosed, than now.

Ron Suskind’s book discusses the struggle, and the breakthrough, when he and his wife realized that Owen was attempting to communicate with them through Disney dialogue. The movie takes on that same path, but it can illustrate the desire of Peter Pan not to want to grow up, or the fear of Bambi, or being an outcast like Quasimodo in The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Owen starts a Disney movie club with others with disabilities and developed relationships with a couple of Disney voice actors. He also travels abroad to explain his condition, and I was intrigued by how little his writer/father gave him.

The trailer suggested more of a Disney happy ending, but the movie delves into what happens when Owen is ready is getting ready to live semi-autonomously. Sometimes the Disney dialogue is insufficient, as when brother Walter tries to explain the birds and the bees to Owen.

What makes this movie, though, is the animation, not by Disney, but by Mac Guff, a French visual effects company, which takes a fantasy of Disney sidekicks and brings it to life.

One of the few negative reviews notes: “It never addresses Disney’s wholly manufactured stranglehold on turning adolescent desire into a consumerist impulse.” True enough, and rather beside the point to a family looking for a way into their child’s mind.

Life, Animated was definitely worth your 90 minutes.

Lucy-Desi Museum

The radio show My Favorite Husband morphed into the TV show I Love Lucy.

Lucile Ball's monogrammed 1972 Mercedes-Benz — Lucile Ball’s monogrammed 1972 Mercedes-Benz

Lucy-Desi Museum, Jamestown, NY: July 12, 2016

A stop in Jamestown was a last-minute addition to the itinerary when we decided that we should see a state park on the return trip, rather on the way out.

We knew that Jamestown was the birthplace of actress Lucille Ball, back on August 6, 1911. There’s something about a small town that needs to embrace its stars the way that New York City or Los Angeles simply cannot. Her childhood home is in nearby Celeron, on what was 8th Street, but is now Lucy Lane. Those homes are privately owned.

But in downtown Jamestown is the Lucille Ball-Desi Arnaz Museum on West Third Street, where you can find out about the early years of Lucy, from her grade school piano to costumes and gowns from her wardrobe, and some paintings and photos that once hung in her Beverly Hills home.

You also get the background about her future first husband, the Cuban-born Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y de Acha, III (1917-1986), whose father was the youngest mayor of Santiago, and his mother’s father an executive at Bacardi Rum. The family fortune was seized during the Batista revolution of 1933, and the family eventually fled to Miami, FL.

I was particularly interested in learning about a radio show called My Favorite Husband, starring Ball and Richard Denning, who played the characters of Liz and George Cugat, as a happily married couple. “Beginning with the 26th episode on January 7, 1949, confusion with bandleader Xavier Cugat prompted a name change Cooper.” Apparently, coincidentally, Desi Arnaz had played guitar for Cugat.

My Favorite Husband morphed into the TV show I Love Lucy, with Desi as Ricky Ricardo, a struggling orchestra leader, and Lucy as Lucy (nee McGillicuddy), a housewife with show business fantasies but no real talent. It would be difficult to overstate the significance of this television show on the medium.

Adjacent to the Luci-Desi Museum, and at no additional charge, is the Desilu Studios, which has costumes and prop. But most impressively, it has replicas of both the Ricardos’ New York City apartment of the first six seasons, and the Hollywood Hotel suite of The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour (shown), thirteen hour-long episodes which aired from 1957 to 1960.

“On March 2, Desi’s birthday, 1960, the day after the last hour-long episode was filmed, Lucille Ball filed for divorce from Desi Arnaz.” But they managed to maintain a friendship until he died of cancer. She died in 1989

Desilu Studios would produce Lucy’s subsequent programs, plus Dick Van Dyke Show, Mission: Impossible and Star Trek.

Even though she was largely unfamiliar with I Love Lucy, The Daughter was captivated with the actress and wanted an Andy Warhol-designed cup as a souvenir. We were so fond of the site that we recommended the Lucy-Desi Museum for some family members at the family reunion.

We did NOT see the Scary Lucy statue that was not too far away but agree that the new rendering is much more suitable.

All photos c 2016 by Lydia P. Green

Dad’s grave

My dad wasn’t much on that type of sentimentality.

Visiting the gravesites, beyond the limits of geography, is a very personal preference, I believe. I don’t think I’ve visited my dad’s grave more than two or three times. Of course, when he first died, on this date in 2000, the headstone wasn’t ready.

I know I made at least one trip, maybe two, to the military cemetery 40 miles north of Charlotte, NC, with my mother and at least the sister who lives in North Carolina, and very likely, her daughter.

The last time, I’m sure, was when my mother died in 2011. Both of my sisters and their daughters, my wife and MY daughter all attended the burial. She’s interred next to dad, and the headstone has now been replaced to represent both of them, with information on each side. I’ve actually never seen mom’s side of the headstone, except in photographs.

But my dad wasn’t much on that type of sentimentality. His mom died in the early 1960s, about a decade before he moved from Binghamton, NY to North Carolina. I have no recollection of taking us to visit her grave in the Floral Avenue Cemetery in Johnson City, NY. And I just can’t imagine him going on his own.

Indeed, I didn’t even remember – or more correctly, misremembered – where she was buried until about three years ago, which I wrote about.

Spring Forest Cemetery in Binghamton I went by virtually every single weekday growing up. It’s three or four blocks from the house I grew up in, and even closer to my maternal grandmother’s house, where I went each school day for lunch. we used to cut through the cemetery to play baseball at Ansco field.

My paternal grandfather died in 1980, and he’s buried in Spring Forest, or at least I think so. I doubt my father ever made a trek up to Binghamton to visit the grave.

So I guess I’m trying to make myself feel less guilty – guilty may be overstating it – about not going to what is now my parents’ gravesite. I DO have pictures.