If only our choice of lotto numbers had a magical lure to the ones being drawn, we could be in the business of selling our talent to those that would pay for the expertise. On the other hand would it not be saleable to sell a DECLARED talent without having a proven track record. In fact the so called experts in our midst do just that. The choice need not be lotto numbers, but anything saleable and attractive enough to lure the person into great riches or benefits. The hope and desire to win sometimes is more attractive than the prize itself. Within the fringe of chance lies a plateau of enchantment. Who questions the odds of winning, for a given sum of money, you're in the running. The gambling instinct continues even if a win arrives and departs from us. While we angle for these riches, the seller puts his gains in the bank without any loss or fanfare. His dress and demeanor are beyond reproach. The assurance that is offered gains your confidence in the sale. The magic that is offered lies within our own fantasy of riches. The seller merely mirrors it back to you with visions of greatness. Now - that the lure is sold it becomes yours. Can you bring in the win? The seller is much too busy now looking for the next party to arouse. The only justice is for the buyer to win and grin and return a mocked splendor to his former seller. While all this seems chancy, the gambler is at great risk to lose more than money. He could lose his self confidence. When he came into this world what were his tangible assets. He didn't even have a shirt on his back.

ROUND WORLD

When past generations flirted with the possibility that the world was round, they thought they were most likely on the safe top half of the earth, thereby being safe from falling off. The clergy of that period most likely rebelled any voyage to a new world as blasphemy. Yet no one would dare contradict their king and queen and live to talk about it! For whatever reason, today's dissenters are not rocking the boat. Finding people to banish space exploration is rather difficult in today's world. With Columbus, his only hope was for the richest country in the world of that period, Spain, to commission his voyage. There were of course compensatory awards for his effort. Is there a comparison in today's world? Do we think we are smarter than they were in 1492? The Spaniards are no better off today than they were had they not set sail. They literally went broke and have become a third world nation. The notion today regarding space haunts us and doesn't help our mounting real down-to-earth problems: health; education; crime; racism and drugs (even the so called legitimate ones) just to mention a few. Getting back to the original scenario regarding our being on the safe top half of the world...I think not. Space only addresses our wish to escape our real responsibilities. The greatest challenge we have before we fall off the edge is to bring life back to some tangible degree of order right here and now. The amount of money being spent on space is both astronomical and wasteful. At least the Spaniards were looking for gold. If indeed that was a just consolation.

SHORTCUT

The wrecking ball has been with us for a while now. It's hard to imagine why it was invented. We used to employ hand-operated laborers to do the leveling of structures. The workers that did the work were generally in pretty good physical condition. Now a single person sitting in a derrick directs the crashing ball into the side of a building. Do we not care how many people lose their jobs anymore? Are we better off looking for less expensive short-cuts? I could see to a point where progress is necessary, medicine, etc.

But HOW and WHEN will it improve our lot. Shifting of jobs creates untold hardships to so many people. The employer goes about business as though nothing happened, while the laborer bounces around from job to job. Since the industrial revolution, what has been the benefit for the man on the street? Except that now the man on the street lives on the street. As jobs become obsolete so does the economy. In today's world the general public jogs for physical well being. Of course it wouldn't be so bad if his or her income didn't disappear, but it does with the many shortcut scenarios in the business world. As in olden days we should employ many people to swing the wrecking ball into the building instead of the out of shape derrick operator. At least more capital will circulate and more taxes will be collected. Why have people on the welfare roles which simply denigrates their soul. Besides it keeps them much healthier working for a living. The wrecking ball yarn may be a high flung bag of apple sauce, but seeing millions of people out of work without any good reason isn't.

GRADUATION DAY – ALL ABOARD

The extra time and effort it takes some people to write a letter, others with less scrutiny, may do a lot better. It would of course depend mostly on style and content.

The least one says is a better way to write a business or resume commentary. Besides, companies aren't totally up front with their employees either. And what's good for one should be good for the other as well.

To further add, it should be no different than talking to someone in an ad-libbed fashion along with a clairvoyance in the domain of conviction.

Resumes take on a pattern and chronology of events, past and present. As for the future, feelings and your plans, although sometimes risky, can be included with the prospectus, keeping in mind that, that too can be over-done.

♦ ♦ ♦

Looking at it from management's perspective: he or she will most likely look at several resumes, batch style, to determine the outcome, hopefully with equal candor.

In any event, will he or she be looking for a quick awakening to make their decision? It's anyone's guess.

Again, the one who can write the least, effectively*, in my view, may have a much better chance to get hired.

♦ ♦ ♦

Your diploma, in a mythical sense, should come to you in concert with your success with “Right and Company.”

*Much thought should be organized prior to writing.

COMEDY OR TRAGEDY?

When I watch the tube, I wonder what it is that draws me there. In all the towns in all the world why am I drawn to this vision of despair? If it weren't for the remote I would toss the television in the river. I developed a game called "Hushed Commercials". The necessary item is the mute button. It goes something like this. Just as I tell the person on the set to speak louder I mute him out. It's a cheap shot at revenge. Silent commercials entertain me a lot more than loud ones. It's almost like going back to the silent movie (flick) era. It wasn't all that bad. Another caper is to see how fast I could change channels. Appropriately named "Channel Jumper". As hard as I try for better programs, the cream doesn't seem to rise. If the stations had fewer programs to put on the air perhaps the quality would improve. The tube has become the last place where performers have a chance to become fossilized. The laughter they generate comes out of cans, bottles and out of work producers. After every other line comes a giggle of sorts. Is the show "Rally" that funny? Young toddlers are given funny lines to say. Viewing toddlers never even understand why the adults are laughing. The lines cater to adult amusement only. Every line is lifelessly funny to a fault. The audience is spurred on with cue cards telling them when to laugh mildly, incessantly or for that matter not at all. Are these off Broadway street audiences paid to laugh on queue, or do they do so for the love of free coffee and cake. Has television gotten better over the years? Does anyone know or care? Please let me know, I'm listed under "Dreamer."

DOCTOR DOCTOR

My nerves lately have been what you could call jumpy. Many things have been happening at the same time. Some of these could be good and some not so good. What I'm upset about is the waiting and the uncertainty of it all.

When I was a young man all this would have slipped off my mind like yesterdays mashed potatoes. I've become very touchy in my senior years. There's no need to give my age at this time, although it's only 62. My bones say it's higher. So does my gall bladder and my prostrate and my aching back. I need to see a doctor before things get sticky.

Why am I so disillusioned now in my senior years? My attitude towards doctors has become most doubtful these days. The doctors no longer hold my hands when I'm scared for my health as they did when I was a child and ill. Are they afraid that I'll sue them? Are they only interested in money?

Have I lost this nice view of doctors that may not have been their in the first place? Perhaps I'm making them more important than they really are. Maybe I should hold their hands instead. _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

HARMONY

Harmony comes about from a singular or multiple elegance and from within a common nucleus.

Its cone matures whole when the force or forces within solidify.

When or if the stage should shake, no one should prevent it from reaching its settled foundation.

The final end comes when something or someone from an outer limit makes or develops a relative theory.

FINE TUNING

Looking out from the balcony, the view of the pool looks darn inviting from way up here. Having had this desire for some time to sail into the pool from my patio veranda is about to happen. There I go. As I'm gliding down, I begin to wonder, all too: late, if the pool is deep enough to prevent me from bashing in my head. A sudden wish to return to the balcony leaves me desperate to learn how to fly like the birds. I start to flap my hands in desperation, but I know it'll take a minimum of five training sessions to mimic bird flight, providing I could find a decent instructor. While I approach a point of no return any ideas for a quick solution start to run thin. If I could only manage a belly flop, I'll probably save my skull from a serious and debilitating head ache. The trade off isn't that much better. I remember from the past how awful it was to land flat on my belly. The pain lasted several bouts with lost appetites. Lucky for me the balcony was high enough for analyzing my options. So there I was desperately flapping my wings over and over only to find out there aren't any wings to flap. The next time something like this happens, I'll arrange for someone to track my fall for intelligent pointers. I'm just about to make contact now and the suspense is killing me. I should not have said that. Whatever my landing position happens to be, I'll probably fall out of my bed and learn what a bad dream I had. I don't even have the savvy it takes to wake up before touchdown. Splash!

BEING JEWISH

“Hear, 0 Israel…”

For a Jew the greatest challenge is to maintain as many of the 613 mitzvot that the All Mighty has assigned to him. To further state it, these Laws are referred to as what Judaism and all the world is about. They encompass the whole spectrum of life from birth to the next world. From the moment he arises in the morning to the time he returns to his slumber. What and how and in what combination he eats his food and drink, as all is spelled out by our Lord. The reasons may seem artificial at first glance. That in itself is a test of our faith in the All Mighty. As we continue our journey, the reasons for being Jewish, center around a discipline that must not be bent to satisfy individual interpretation, but rather to keep the body and soul of the Jew intact. It is also not based on logic; as logic can and does get misplaced. We do not filter out any implementation of His Laws, as we may never learn our Majesty's reasons. The mission is to demonstrate by example, for all to see, and not allow material intervention to dominate his Jewish soul. As may be observed by the outside world, the Jew surrounds himself with like forces: books that further his awareness to the Lords Path, reasons that demonstrate the omnipresence of our Lord to the center of our being. Life for the Jew is an ongoing test of his growth, with always a new chance to revere His Testaments of an Original Shield of Honor for us all. Never has one group been so honored and awarded by our Creator. May our hearts be true for all to see and share.

MIAMI OVER MOON

No junk mail on the Moon!

Now that the moon is accessible for travel, why not fasten your checkbook to a star. You may ask if others will follow in your footsteps, only if they don't get clearance from a bongo combo. It may not mean too much, but the months are 28 days long. The bills get to you faster. If you can afford the commute, real estate is at a premium. Round trip fares won't be available for at least 10 years down the space pike. So take plenty of food, clothing, air, water, etc. The river beds are all dried up, so if you decide to stay there you'll save a bundle on plumbing. Sunlight will be upon you as long as you stay on the sunny side of Moon River, but don't expect to find any night clubs along the way. Leave the golf clubs home; craters are too vast to play a game of golf. A hole in one at tee-off is commonplace. If you hit the golf ball hard enough, it will sail out in space never to be seen again. Don't fret about

No inexpensive calls yet either way! being secluded. No one is lonely on Moon River Road because of the radio stations coming in from Miami. The song you'll hear most often is "Moon Over Miami" sung in its reversed version (Miami Over Moon) for the benefit of you natives. The song may take some getting used to, but you'll sing along nicely after a few tries. If the legend is true about the appearance of cheese on the moon, bring back a five pound snack pack. You need not worry about getting paid, a blank

Earth View From The Moon

check is in the mail. Just fill in the amount and mail it back to me. Bon voyage.

© 1992 A. Altabet

EXPANDED VOCABULARY

Which Word Fits?

The art of speech can often make the tongue look fork-like. If we could only make our ideas more addressable to those that would listen to the actual words, a host of problems may evaporate. Ideas should not disappear, but rather thoughts should be revised to get the point across. Cleverness of words has become more than an art form. With a smart composition or a flare for theatrics, we could conquer all. We could turn our backs on Shakes Pierre, Word Balancing Act but will we see the light of change. By the time the Twenty First Century arrives our vocabulary will escalate beyond repair. Surgeons of the printed or spoken word will surface as a new order. Why should an insurance premium or any other item be "adjusted" when in fact it was increased? Why are these type of games played? The term “Adjusted” need not co-exist arbitrarily to cover up a trend. New words come by us without reference to need or a feel for its importance. Participation in a debate becomes more of an individual style rather than a focus on cognitive issues. The winner, if there is one, competes for clever passages newer than previously tried. Paint still dries at its own good time without any artful fanfare. The skeptic, as I often am, continue to finger the paint to test its progressive dryness. When will the term "New" really mean what it implies? As in the case of "New" marketable goods; new cereal; new soft drinks, etc., etc. a numbness dominates the ability for reason. The word jugglers in the end do have their field day.

A TALE OF A TAIL

Who answers a question with a deliberate counterfeit to that very same question? Which in turn conveys a morality tale in order to generate a stimulus for a factual purification to his answer? Simply put: a politician.

Time and again politicians have soiled their hands with graft and shady deals. There wasn't too much that was done about it in the past, although punitive measures were recently instituted. A board of their peers has decreed that their hands be tied to a pole and attached to the tail of a running horse. It was a match made in HEAVEN. What followed was awesome. Within a short period of time these relics of deception have kept pace with the horses they were tied to that have miraculously matured into a man/horse combination.

So goes this tale and so went their tail. What makes this account even more bizarre is that these very same people have become credible. They were no longer called politicians, but have evolved into gallop poles.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

BURDEN

Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said "The Only Thing To Fear Was Fear Itself". Those words have stayed with me, and I'm sure the whole world, for many a year. At this point in time, our causes seem rather dismal. What with medical epidemics, drugs, crime, racism and a host of others, we know all too well what to count as being important. Yet there is a poor solution to - the problems before us. I recall from the past that there was a common state of priorities that we all adhered to. We all needed to have gainful employment as well as a sense of welfare. It may seem strange to say it now, but the feeling of one for all and all for one gave us a sense that things will get better. That notion has become somewhat blurry. All that was necessary in the past was to hang in there and try to get over the stumbling blocks, that bad things will come to pass. Serious problems befall all of us at one time or another. In today's world, people that can't manage problems escape to alcohol or drugs to lighten their burden even though it merely overshadows the problem.

KNOWLEDGE

Once upon a time is the only way I'll attempt to start this topic. Just as a linkage exists between the Earth and the Cosmos, so is knowledge and time of an equal gauge. To analyze its benefits is too complex for acceptable rhetoric to reveal. The hour glass does have its flaws. Is knowledge and experience separate but equal? New information creates more questions than it answers. This' very article has more questions then it answers. Whether a glass of water is half full or half empty becomes a test for the optimist or the pessimist not the theorist. Should the same judgment be set in motion knowledge by the glass; perhaps. Is knowledge garnered and gathered by people with active minds? If this be true then who becomes the benefactor and who the bond servant? The question of validity again is not an issue. For what good is having the answers if diversity stops its advantages. Who are the players of knowledge? Is there a social climate for learning and will learning not create a subclass? Is the polling of students a business venture? If it is, then who shall reap its rewards? A merge of teacher and student should be a business enterprise. In the field of knowledge this article was most difficult to write because what is good for one may be good for all. If the last line sounds like double-talk then so to is knowledge.

GENETICS

Gene manipulation is so dangerous for any man or group of men to pursue. Its complexities are beyond mans capabilities. Human value systems are so fixed and unchangeable that it can cause an outcry throughout the world. Man can't deal with much lesser problems let alone genetic engineering. Who will have control over these random mutations? There aren't any workable limits for a judicial body to impose on experimentation. A scientist may cause irreversible mass alterations that may change the entire balance of nature. No one can predict in advance any misuse that will be done. Should things go wrong, can criminal charges be brought to anyone practicing genetic engineering? In view of the possibilities, is murder itself a lesser crime? Given the magnitude, I would vote against it as nothing more than a game plan. As much conviction as a game of chess. They should not bring their parlor tricks to the laboratory. They are not qualified to do so; no one is! I can't imagine whether any of the major religions would sanction this form of life aggrandizement. If crime is only crime by virtue of laws, so too are laws of God and nature. Everyone should resist allowing this most serious matter to begin. For they do so only to their own end. For I myself would take part in a rebellion to stop its implementation. Scientists should not playa game of chance to an end they will never know. If their reason is to create a gene mutant highbred, it borders on the irreverent. The generations that follow these scientists are the ones that will be handicapped with barriers generated by their predecessors.

ESCAPE NOW

Unless there's a template to view, the shift out of responsibility is not apparent. We see teenagers spending hours straining for position with computer games. "So why bother doing anything else. It's fun, it's challenging, and it's a great time passer". The mind escapes from the challenge of school work. There is a possibility that these games stimulate a desire to learn the mechanics of the computer; who knows? It isn't fair to focus in on the teenager, since we are all in effect escaping from our responsibilities. In one way or another we search for pleasure instead of work. Whether in sports, theater, mountain climbing, the list can get pretty long. "All work and no play" is a familiar song we sing now and again, but while we sing, our competitors are ringing up their career portfolios. Work never was supposed to entertain; it meant struggling and straining with a possible reward for the effort. If we lay back and say that the good guy finishes last, we lose a necessary and important privilege to try. Most of our great successes have come from repetitive failures, and over great periods of time. "Why wait, we certainly won't live forever, so why not take the pleasures now. Don't wait till we're too old to enjoy it." This argument is of course well taken. If we are enjoying a long healthy life span, the chances are that hard working people behind us made their most beneficial contributions in our behalf. So in effect there is an unspoken debt that we have for those that will follow us in the future.

BREAKFAST ANYONE?

Two eggs on a skillet with hash brown potatoes and onions lingering on the side will make some eyes pop and mouths to drool.

Along side the skillet perks a pot of coffee, its aroma tantalizingly awaiting a rendezvous with the eggs et al.

This is without a doubt real as I real can be.

So how did this epicurean delight get before someone in the first place becomes a point to ponder.

How is it possible to have knowledge of the unknown or the mysteries of creation?

When the answer becomes perceptible to anyone, and with G-d's help, please let me know, as I would love to learn its secrets.

___________________________________________________________________________________________

BACK HANDED PHIL

He wasn't mighty or stern

When he deceived all in turn.

So what was his game, which some would frame.

While he sort out his plays,

An onlooker did say;

Get out of my way. You are in my melee.

I'm foolish you see, I will not sway.

If I edge you on out,

My pals may repeat;

What a loser or you should eat.

So where is your power,

On this your lonely hour?

Were the wins really yours?

Or counted by fours.

Now and again, Ole Phil may pretend,

What a grand day it was, To rend or to mend.

"THE WAYWARD WIND"

“To Have And Have Not" was a movie that was around at theaters (now called cinemas) during the late thirties to early forties. I don't remember everything in it at this late date, but it was a great movie for people of that time. It makes me angry when I see movies with actors that don't have their hearts in it. The actors of the old days were part and parcel of their very own personality. Cary Grant was the same no matter what movie he was in. The audience liked it that way. So did I. The public often mimicked all of those now forgotten stars. When I saw a movie with John Wayne, that was all that was necessary. Each time you saw any familiar actress or actor you felt at home with their performance. The story had nothing to do with it. Be it adventure; be it romance; be it mystery; be it anything. The sad part is that instead we now get flim- flam type pictures which did away with the star system altogether. Most likely it was started by Marlin Brando, a method actor. As a result, no new Hollywood type stars emerged anymore. No more Barrymores, Cagneys, Powers, Coopers, Taylors; to fill the void. It all went down into a dark and black hole somewhere in outer space without a chance to get in a new breath of fresh air. The star system had entered into oblivion, along with the many caricatures created by the motion picture industry. To see once again a Coleman classic born of a style which has now torpedoed into no- where-dom and nothingness. Of course you had to be there to love the old classics. You sat in a murky-like theater as long as you wished. You could see a really good movie over if you wanted to. In today's world the public looked in other directions. Which might be depicted as deep seated stark reality. Without any chance to talk back to the screen if you didn't like a certain passage in the movie. That was so reminiscent when something was bad in a movie, there was a certain audience bonding that went on. Away went the old style fantasies. The "Petrified Forest" would need a new sting-like jolt for acceptance into today's now crowd. In the past, "Tarzan", many times played by Johnny Weissmuller, lent a certain charisma to the screen. "Me Tarzan, You Jane", was a parody to earthiness. Those famous lines remained a part of our culture for many a day. How could anyone not meow to the call of the wild as depicted by Tarzan and his side kick Cheetah, the mischievous chimpanzee? Throw in Jane and Boy and the epoch was signed sealed and delivered for great entertainment. You have to be an outcast not to feel moved by it all. No one, certainly not I, would suggest it was great acting, but at the end of the movie you left feeling like the burdens of the world were lifted from your shoulder. Tarzan was able to straighten out all problems that somehow transcended into our private lives. THE END.

World War II Leftovers

The world lost more than 50 million lives as a result of the Nazi take-over of Germany in the 1930s.

Germany enjoyed a democratic government before Adolf Hitler took dictatorial power over its citizens.

SNICKER UP THEORY

My first and obvious comments draw on what was and what are the beneficial reasons for unions wherever or whatever your station is. Ever since unions were placed on a downward slope a strange and devastating state of the economy also took a nose-dive. Why wasn’t this relativity not seen by our elected leaders? We all know how former President Reagan dealt with unions during his administration. He dealt rather harshly with the airline flight attendants. He had them fired when they didn’t do his bidding. How he abandoned them reflects his disregard for the working man of our country. When unions bargain for guaranteed jobs, it has a positive effect for most, if not all of us. The money that is circulated benefits us all by maintaining a balanced economy. Need you be an economist to figure that one out. In addition, why was it necessary for the Feds to lower the prime interest rate just to spruce up the economy? Corporations are customarily interested in lining their portfolios and it doesn’t matter to them how many jobs are lost in the process. The miscarriage they created is catching up with them. They would have us believe that money will trickle down to the masses. As it turned out, the only thing that trickled was unemployment. The ones that have suffered the most are those that have come to depend on their savings account interest. Which has as we all know been evaporated by the Republicans and their followers since the Reagan days. The history of unions is and was by far better for all of us. We see that Japan has guaranteed jobs for their citizens. Do we not deserve the same considerations?

FOR THE LOVE OF MONEY

What we see on television on a daily basis are things that lure us to buy what we see. I often wonder what percentages of items actually get sold through television advertising. When we go shopping for groceries we at least know what we want and need. Analyzing whether items were bought because it was seen on the screen is speculative. Grocers at least send out flyers to their local customers. All sale items are boldly listed. TV on the other hand has sales charts to verify their gains or losses. I recently toured our two bedroom, two bath condominium to evaluate a percentage of usable items that were accumulated so far with- out finding repeat type items. Many duplicate items were bought over and over mostly to satisfy a style change. The findings were by no means a piece by piece inventory, but a gut feeling analysis. The figure I came up with was around 75% of our possessions were not in use. Of which a small amount was used to any great extent. It was quite interesting to say the least. Anyone living in an empty room will sense echoing sounds. Sounds seem to peak without items to absorb it. The point may sound strange, but the accumulation for no other reason muffles sound pollution which is good for general well being. While all this sounds ludicrous and comical, it wasn't the original reason to buy these articles. This article, at long last, gives a different point of view. Even if no one advertised, sales would be imminent.

EGG HEADS

Fading into the sunset and riding a horse may seem innocent enough. Yet I'm planning this trip somewhat differently. I shall remain saddle-less on my equestrian tour till I arrive at some meaningful end result. All I could hope for is that my analyst doesn't learn of this weird horseplay. The pain I'll feel will no doubt develop a proper stimulus for the trip. There will be no planned destination as someplace does not exist. This peaceful drama should be solved, much to my surprise, as the pieces start to fit, especially when the parts in question do not heal too well. As I look about and with the horse’s natural gait, I feel a positive climate of change may take place hopefully before the 21st century. Have things always been this bad? While the 1930's weren't all that great, those among us knew how the good people have pulled together. And as we did, we defeated the oppressor. For awhile anyway we relished this seemingly impossible victory. So who is the enemy of today? All we see is disturbed finger pointers, pointing malice in many directions. How has all this come about? Most of us have some intelligence; education; compassion; common interests; culture; ideals; and most of all responsibilities. I must stop now, the horse and I need to refresh. As I massage my bottom oh so gently, my horse looks at me heartily. His gentle gaze tells me that perhaps a change for the better may happen soon. As this brief journey comes to its apex, I'll be happy to observe when I arrive back at the stable that the first change of attitude should no doubt start with me. Might not the self-serving finger pointers also get off their high horse as well?

Pens Too Can Hurt

THE TIDE OF 1492

Heritage: Stated somewhat differently, the sum total of thousands of years. I was the fifth child born of Jewish parents David and Elizabeth Altabet, nacer Magrisso. Its history dates back from biblical times. An historical progression of a grand and enlightened people, emigrating from the Holy Land to the shores of Spain. We were, thereafter, known as the Jews of Spain. Vibrant and energetic beyond comparison to any other of that same era. Scholars in theology, science, government and the arts. When it came to the arts, the Moors rose to heights more than anyone else. The Jews lived in a country that later proved not to be their own. The church expelled them because of their claims of heresy. And the ones that weren't expelled were either tortured or condemned to death. They, the Spaniards, showed no repentance for past atrocities to their self pronounced heretics. With the use of inhuman torture, they failed to convert them. So the Jews left Spain for new and more hospitable lands. The church sanctioned the persecution of our people as a progression of their religious tenets. If their Lord is who they claim, then how could there be a credit base for all the many years that followed. Shouldn't the world be in better shape than it is today? Perhaps my view is incorrect, but the earth we live on is plagued with more depravity than it has ever seen. The term “Chosen” has diverse implications; for me it is not riding on a high horse, but it instead means "Chosen" by the All Mighty to demonstrate His Paths to be followed by all mankind. Until that happens, the world will falter.

SMARTS

When I visit the library and look about, there's a wonderment that baffles me. How can I understand this depository of human thought that has been generated so far? I have often I wondered if the reason for my visit is merely finding a quite place to think and relax. The veil that surrounds my good feeling is that the library has this I wonderful array of order. The books stacked so nicely, Scores of index cards to search through with great ease. Perhaps I'll come across some thing that will stimulate my interest as it often does. Not so today. Today I'm at a crossroads of not knowing the real reason I'm here. No doubt my present age has a lot to do with it. As I'm not an authority on any subject, my thoughts are focused on getting answers. Isn't there anything in these books that will benefit our troubled world other than going to war? Historically, war has been with us. We grapple with this or that. We join groups that appeal to the present drama of current events. Such terms as "Balance Of Power" suggest how soon it is from a previous war that we have an appetite to stop any would be aggressor from infiltrating our shores. It was a matter of luck that I was not sent to Korea when I served in the military during that conflict. Why was I not smart enough to resist. True, I didn't have a college education, but I was able to read and write. Libraries were in existence then, so why didn't I have the answers? Now, 41 years down the pike, North and South Korea have a tentative agreement on a non-aggression pact. Was I born at the wrong time in the wrong place?

VOTING

The notion to vote in block-form appeals to many as a logical, power- packed, and a sure-fire outcome for voting strategies.

Nonetheless, in my view, an individual vote should not be pooled by others as cattle to the slaughter.

Historically, Germany has had a forceful group-vote, imposed by storm troopers in the early 1930s. As we are all aware, Germany became a dictatorship soon after.

Government, "Big Brother", as many have come to call it, may without rhyme or reason, decide to spend tax dollars without approval of the voter.

Why is the public rarely asked to vote on issues? We don't evidently count in their guesstimate of priorities.

Conversely, if the citizens are able to vote, above all, for an important issue, having a group of voters share their views in block-form, would offer a far greater support than an individual vote.

No doubt, that arrangement is not new, or in any event, was tried, even though it would be difficult to uphold from a legal posture since they, the voters, will be alone in the voters booth anyway.

To further add, similar pledges could form from the other side of a question. So that in effect, conditions could prevail whereby deals would be made between groups to pigeonhole alternate views. It could be a rather perplexing outcome.

In the end, I feel pooling is not without flaws, but can be a sometimes agreeable way to designate your voluntary and valued vote.

Miscalculation has a potential of being a somber contractual bias for us all.

By definition, it wasn't what our founding fathers had in mind, namely, one man/woman, one vote!

TAILOR MADE

Most sports require that the players be in good mental and physical condition. To that end we see them at practice, and more practice. When viewing a boxing match, a minor change occurs, the boxer falls within a certain weight class: feather; middle and heavy-weight are the major classifications. Like horses at a track, boxers too, must scale-in prior to a fight. Football and baseball also have their special talents. Football players have an associate mixture that comes into play; brawn; team coordination; stamina; quarter-backing; blocking, etc. Baseball has their specialties: fielding; batting; running; catching; pitching. In contrast to other sports, basketball, while having many talents, has a very outstanding difference. As some parallels can be drawn between major sports, most everyone on a basketball team comes close to, or in fact is seven feet or greater in height. The average height has escalated over the years, shouldn't the basket rims also be elevated to accommodate this trend? Since it hasn't, one must ask why not? By not raising the rims, today's scoring players delight doing chin-ups as a finale. In earlier days when we played basketball at school, occasionally the ball would wedge into the side of the rim. No one was able, to my recollection, jump up and dislodge the ball-not so today. Chin-ups became the new sport of champions. I never saw or heard of a 7 foot boxer, indeed if there ever was one, desperately staying out of harms way in the ring from a 5 foot challenger. Imagine two classes of basketball teams, both playing against each other at the same time. We'll name them Shorts versus the Tails as a matter of convenience. Shorts have had their basket rims lowered for this auspicious occasion -- the relative height between teams is correct. Everything starts to look good on paper except for one minor detail. We aren't changing the rules as no one could figure out where to, or how to. Too many variables would literally come into play. Because of that problem, the game will be played according to standard rules. The game is still hypothetical, but a sight for sore eyes would be to see a Short player come dribbling down the court with all the confidence he could muster. He does a quick side step routine act, and fakes a pass over his opponent’s head that opens up a high and wide pathway between the legs of Mr. Tall, as he, Mr. Short, comes scoring in with his customary chin-up finale. As the game ends with those last two winning points, a band is summoned to play the “Stars And Stripes Forever."

CROWN HEIGHTS

THE SEARCH FOR

PEACE IS FOR US

TO PURSUE!

AND THE TIME

IS NOW!

Most of the residents in Crown Heights attest to the high level of polarization of the area. There is unfortunately no cultural exchange between its inhabitants.

Why when you see someone wearing clothing different than your own should you feel like an outsider is a mystery… unless of course the clothes depicts a hostile hate group. For the Jews that dress alike there is a reason that they do so. As a minority, it is a way for them to preserve and embellish their religious scriptures.

It took an ill-omened auto accident to explode a community into brutal violence. The media rarely does anything that's in its path to quell riots. Instead, they'll sensationalize the groups for whatever reason. That's what elevates unnecessary and violent behavior to my way of thinking.

What there is, in Crown Heights, are groups of citizens absolutely inattentive to each other. Why their religion and race are at odds to each other eludes me. They both knew great hardships.

For the blacks their problems began, as we all know, hundreds of years ago when certain groups of whites and tribal chiefs helped kidnap them from Africa into slavery.

Another form of brutality is lashing out at innocent human beings regardless of who it is. Not that anyone should or want to hurt someone else...least of all themselves.

The blacks have suffered enough, but so have the Jews. There is no greater need for brotherhood than there is right now. Shall we not let reason prevail? Justice will not be served when innocent lives are lost.

OPEN LETTER

Dear Marland:

What happened in the 1950's stand out quite well from all aspects. We were ruff and ready guys. (Wasn't that a song?) And how we harmonized with some fancy close-order-drill routines. As I reminisce now, the reunion brought it all back, almost as though it were yesterday. We were young and raring to go. If there was a recruiting officer standing by looking for volunteers, I would have signed up on the spot. So what if it's 45 years later. As they say, better late than never. I believe that today's army uses a more sophisticated type weaponry. It will no doubt take a lot more training than we had.

The 147th Army Band was up-beat, sure footed, with sounds that delight the senses, and made a moving and lasting tribute for me. The orchestra also helped celebrate in a very big way our distant past.

The musical arrangements they performed more than made up for an excellent compensation to my lengthy bus ride back to New Jersey.

Time could not nor would not stand still for me alone. Seeing familiar faces stirred up some impressive memories that made time stand still.

Unfortunately, everyone from H Co. didn't make the trip to Huron. I'd like at this time to thank all the men I've seen there, including their most charming wives.

I would have liked to have seen more men show-yes! …even men that weren't from H Company, including all the brass. Just the same, the one's that showed, left an indelible memory that will not fade. Hopefully, many more will make it the next time around.

If all goes well, I'll be at the next reunion; 18, 19, 20 Sept 1997, Brookings, SD. HQ at the Holiday Inn.

Albert Altabet (H Co.)

lA Twin Rivers Drive

E. Windsor, N.J. 08520

(609) 443-1270

Reunion

FROM THE BEGINNING

Now and again I'm of a thought to certify us all as one: spiritually; physically and mentally. I've also included the cosmos for this narrative. For me, the world with all its many parts, is far too massive to bridge the pieces together. I'll try to clarify that remark as I move along, at least as far as I am able to. Ironically, it can be so simple that it evades us, just as a magician puts something before our very eyes to elude us. Then comes his or her disappearing act. The anatomy of man and the universe has many inter-linking parts. I could not name them if I wanted to. The road map I've put together is far reaching even for me, as it regards the complexities of muscles; blood; bones; veins; with those as just the tip of the iceberg. Can the sum of all its parts serve us in group health? When I say world, I mean the universe. Is there a spirituality that is also part of this mix? Are we all not connected in some way? Just as the stars and galaxies in the sky are connected, the very atoms in the sky are in harmony with us. Is it difficult to grasp or just too simplistic to accept. Has our division become religion, political, spiritual, biological, etc.? Trying to analyze the cosmos that put it all together under G-d’s watchful eye, my answer would be that our Creator gave us the test for all time: sink or swim. If scholars have the answers, are they not short lived? Do their theories ever become changeable or estranged? Is there ever a time when all is well. I'm still thinking in terms of a full grown group health plan, earth size…every living creature, and every atom, in every sphere of our existence. Answers we get from scholars eventually become old hat. Never do we encounter a perfection for all of us, for all time. Was it ordained that way, or do we flounder through, stage by stage hoping for a miracle. The Miracle has been with us. It was given to Jews. I'll endeavor to state The Miracle based on what I understand it to be, without going into chapter and verse. My purpose is to apprise all people not to prey to false G-ds. There is only one true G-d, the G-d of Abraham, Jacob and Isaac. Our Lord instructs us what, how and when to eat and drink. What and when not to eat or drink. When we view the past, many, many souls ignored His instructions. The rules were there for all to see. The greatest scientists haven't the answers for a healthy longevity, or a healthy group life. When we procreate, our unholy genes go from generation to generation without merit. We have become so divided, we can't find a way to get back on track as a group. Only our Lord’s good graces can redeem us. The choice is ours. The intellects amongst us will fail if they ignore our Lord.

"SHOULDER TO SHOULDER"

What happens when somebody does something they want to, regardless of others? And why do we let them? In the past, we went to work on crowded subway trains. At that time ridership was very high. Today's ridership is down by contrast. It's obvious that fares and crime are too high for riders to tolerate. Anyway, we packed into cars like sardines in a can. Needless to say seats were hard to come by. You had trouble shifting around for a comfortable position even if you were seated. The year was around 1948. If someone acted strange or rowdy in an obvious manor, there would usually be a rallying call by most passengers. Feeling this support, made it easier to deal with that person, in certain terms. If the person was a major nuisance, you felt you weren't alone in dealing with his or her rogue-like behavior. So consequently, this bad mannered person met with opposition from some of the braver riders. With rare exceptions, it was I. At least it was enough to quiet down an undesirable disturbance. That was of course in the late forties. I hope I'm wrong, but today, it doesn't appear to be like that anymore. Now, a silent pause from a rider somehow makes for a braver bully. So that the support system we once relied on, no longer existed. As a result, when we ride the subway trains today, many would look to be in the same car as the conductor for safe keeping-especially the elderly. Who would blame them? We have lost that one for all and all for one 'Shoulder to Shoulder' dependence. What happened? Can we fix it?

Autobiography

by Albert Altabet

Time has allowed this opportunity to express past experiences and impressions. While this assessment may not be precise, it matters not, since my thoughts won't focus in on history. Dates, time and places leave me deficient.

Going back as far as I can remember may seem boring to most, but it does help in developing points of interest however trivial they may be.

I was born Albert Altabet on December 19, 1928. For many years I told everyone it was the 15th of December. My sister Rebecca was born on the 15th of November and my mother thought I was also born on the 15th just four years and one month later. I got the date right when I applied for a copy of my birth certificate in 1944 when I needed it to apply for my working papers.

We lived on the lower east side of New York City. We were in a depression and I recall seeing push carts all around the streets.

Vendors were selling everything imaginable; clothing, furniture, food, housewares, junk of all kinds, etc.

You walked along the streets and the vendors would comer you into thinking what bargains they had. They could tell when you really needed something, which was almost always. They'd cover their lips and whisper the price in your ear so no one else knew the price. At least that's what they'd like you to believe.

I was five at this time and the only games we had were the ones we could invent. So my friend and I set up an inventory of goods second to none with all the merchandise we could muster. A broken piece of mirror, several small odd sized pencils with it’s' erasers honed down, stones, bottle caps, marbles, rubber bands and what have you.

We set up our display in front of our stoop and waited for eager customers to bargain with us.

We emerged from what has been known as the "Great Depression". Scrimping and saving became the standard way to live even when times were "good".

Fortunately, when it came the summertime, I was able to go to my cousins at Brighton Beach for a couple of weeks.

Every time our parents took us there for a visit, it was like going to the country. We would get on the subway from Delancy Street and head out to Brighton Beach. My eyes were transfixed at looking out the window of the train.

When I made the same run at a much later date, it didn't have the same impact as when I was a child. Getting there was really half the fun.

Victor Youcha and his wife Frieda, my aunt and uncle from the Magrisso side of the family, were of modest means, and yet they took me into their home in the summer.

I thought they were rich in a most exceptional way. They were a cheerful family. They made me feel like I was one of the clan which included Anne, Jack, Rebecca and my peer cousin Isaac (Zeke), now Doctor Youcha.

They had more than their share of problems during the depression years, yet they were full of life and my stay there was most memorable.

The walks to the beach in our bathing suits daily. I spent hours diving into the waves. Anne once looked for me and found me in a lost area for children crying my eyes out.

When I got home, my mother called me "Preto" (black).

There was a time in the thirties when I remember breaking into my cardboard piggy-bank that was loaded with all kinds of coins. The frustration not to save anymore won the battle.

Local candy store owners changed their attitude to- wards me when they saw I was flushed with coins. All of a sudden I was the nice kid on the block. When I told my mother I was now a nice boy she got a chuckle that I'll never forget.

Moving on to my teens proved irksome for awhile. I remember a teacher we had in public school with the name of Mr. Tunckle. We gave him the name Two Nickels. We all liked him but, he got very excited when you didn't pay attention in class. He kept large boxes of creaIl1 filled chocolate covered cookies hidden in locked closets which weren't always locked. He often handed out cookies to the pupils. At times when he left the room briefly it gave us a chance to raid the cookie box. He must have kept track of his cookies because at the end of the term he hit the ceiling when his bills came in. I was happy to hear years later that he became the principal of PS 42 in the Bronx.

Had I been serious about my education, and had I a better grasp for scholastic excellence, I might have contributed more to a world that is going berserk.

I have observed that many gifted and promising students lost out simply because they got bored in class.

At school we'd usually treat the girls as not knowing how to have fun. They somehow managed to get better grades than us. I always felt that they were teachers' pet. "Bouncy bouncy bally all around the palsy and my name is..." didn't appeal to us "rugged men."

Stick ball was more of a he-man sport. Most non-New Yorkers never heard the term stick ball. You found or robbed a broom or mop and broke off the bristles and used it as a bat to hit a soft handball into a field of players waiting to catch the ball without a bounce in order to exchange places with the batter.

At days end we'd hide the stick in the street hoping that any unknown players from other neighborhoods didn't see where we hid the stick.

The ball slipped into your pocket easily, although, it did look funny when you walked around with a bulge in your pants that might have looked like something else.

New York's air wasn't the best, but it was better than staying home glued to a radio set.

Thank heaven that there wasn't television then or we'd all be flabby kids bouncing about aimlessly.

A flashback came to my attention concerning creation and how we all came aboard this planet. Many years ago a friend had asked me where we came from? After we tried pounding out a few possibilities, we agreed that we came from trees the same way as an apple does.

We also knew that monkeys always bounced around trees. So what else was there to believe.

When I got home I told my mother that Leon and I agreed that we came from trees. I asked her if that was right. She answered "yes, that's right" with a smile. From that day on trees were very special to me.

Finally the message hit home and girls took on a new meaning. Episodes of constant crushes with girls became rather frustrating for a young impressionable lad that needed lessons on how not to get tongue tied every time he spoke to a girl.

As the orbits of the good earth progressed, my interests about the universe heightened with the help of my good friend Leon Contenti. He read so much about the stars and galaxies that he got me interested in the marvels of space whenever he discussed the subject with me.

At a time when motion pictures dominated the real world to a point where a child or an adult got swept up with make believe, the reflections of a friend with heavenly interest helped bring make believe back down to earth.

The world was entering dangerous times. A creature by the name of Adolf Hitler with his band of cut throats came to power in Germany in 1933 and embarked on a rampage of self indulgence. Terror, murder and deception were their banners of might and right. Their goal was to conquer and/or kill all those that did not play their game.

They used the Jews to smoke screen their ideologies of the world's problems. At a time when it was difficult for rational people to know what were the real problems of the world, Hitler with his band of murderers led his people in the streets where they danced to his every word.

While he assembled his gigantic war machine, many nations got token assurances that they'll escape the consequences of war.

His success evidently didn't arouse the contempt of the non Jewish world. For whatever reason, no one believed his threats applied to anyone but Jews. A feeling of being safe coated their non-caring attitude.

Preaching "Love Thy Neighbor As Thyself" was only true if you weren't Jewish or considered a non-believer.

When the war ended 25 million people died due to Hitler and his henchmen. The Jews weren't the majority of the people that were killed, but the difference being that the Jews were singled out because of their covenant with God.

As a youth, I thought Christians were righteous and loving and no doubt many are. Many Jews owe their lives to Christians. Still I see that my path will not cross over in friendship as casually as it did.

I shall endeavor to confirm my rich Jewish heritage that I was born to from The One True God in concert with the love of my dear and loving departed parents, David Altabet and Elizabeth Altabet nacer Magrisso. No other commitment by me is possible till the "End Of Days".

We as a nation are doing our own thing. We alienate ourselves from our responsibilities which retard our ability and stability to build on a culture that will unify our differences.

Pure communism in theory looked good on paper. Their advocates claim they will win in end. There is no need to worry about being lonely anymore. They have the "Iron Curtain" and the Berlin Wall to prove it. They'll shoot anyone that tries to leave paradise.

Basic products could be made to last indefinitely. As comrades in arms, wastefulness could be a no-no. Social welfare could be available to anyone that needs it. There would be no reason for people to live in the streets. The list goes on and on.

After long deliberations with these clusters of seemingly tolerable benefits, it becomes apparent that the bad aspects of communism far outweigh the good.

Corruption, loss of basic freedoms, mismanagement, shortages, imprisonment of dissidents, malcontents, religious bigotry and a totalitarian form of justice that favors the clever-nicks in the political structure.

When the war finally ended on August of 1945, the people all over the world were dancing in the streets. The skies were filled with confetti of all manner and description. The war seemed like it would never end but, with the help of our fighting men and women and our determination to win, it was in the bag. The cost was very high and there were many brave souls that never got a chance to celebrate the end of the war with us.

My two older brothers, Elias and Isaac were in the army and were stationed in Europe. Isaac had written that while in Europe he managed to come in contact with our older brother Elias. Isaac always was quick to spot things that he came across. He recognized trucks that passed that were marked as that of our brother's outfit. He did a double take with some clever remarks to officers in order to make contact with our older brother. It was a chance meeting to say the least. The war was in its final stages. There was total chaos and a lack of communication except if it was for military reasons. Isaac crossed several barriers before he made contact, but he did in the end manage to locate our brother. The meeting was a grand reunion because their discussion focused mostly about coming back home.

With the coming of peace I enjoyed a period in history never to be equaled. I was just 5 months shy of my 17th birthday and I had more energy than a barrel of monkeys.

Our hopes focused on the belief that World War II was the war to end all wars. Needless to say the previous war also had the same aspirations. So we went forward with this naive belief and did not dare to sadden our hopes otherwise.

I was coming close to the end of my high school years and had no idea as to what my career was going to be. At first glance I thought I'd try for an academic education. Of course all this meant following up with college which I was not ready for. Going to college meant hard work without getting any immediate monetary compensation.

Post war years offered a host of jobs. While these jobs didn't pay that much to start, you had the opportunity to learn a trade that escalated wages according to your experience.

Ever since my first job, the thought of deciding on a career plagued me at least till the time I found a job that made time go fast. That job eventually did come, but it was much later on.

In the mean time I needed to get my working papers if I was to get a summer job. Somehow I learned of jobs being offered at the Automat food chain. They were called Horn & Hardart or something like that.

The jobs varied according to their needs. You were either a busboy or a dishwasher; the pay was about the same.

At that time I learned how it felt to get paid for your labor. A surge of independence gladdened my self esteem along with the joy of having pocket money.

I won't count the brief periods that I shined shoes or was a pin boy at a local bowling alley.

A depressing time was when I sold shopping bags at a Bathgate Ave food market just around the corner from our apartment in the Bronx. There was a distributor that sold packages of 24 shopping bags. I wouldn't come home until I sold all the bags which gave me a profit of 24 cents which was not any kind of money even back then.

My job at the Automat proved worthwhile. The stores allowed me to eat their food which was always fresh and tasty especially when you helped yourself to whatever you wished.

My choices of food were pastries and deserts. Not very good choices for a teenager.

Oddly enough I retired from the New York Daily News which was just one half block away from my first official job at the Automat which also happened to be their last remaining store still in operation at the time. All the others converted to fast food stores.

Besides the money there was a great feeling of creativity and well being when I got a job as a "printer’s devil" in a local neighborhood print shop. If you showed any desire to learn you generally had the full range of tasks that the job required. Not all the tasks were pleasant. Presses had coats of black ink on the rollers that needed to be cleaned on a daily basis. That's where the name "printer’s devil" came from. Moveable type had to be returned to their appropriate cases after the printing was completed.

The print shop I worked at produced circulars in different colors that awarded free passes to holders of lucky colors to the local Fenway movie theater just around the comer from our apartment in the Bronx.

Prior to my working at this print shop the theater manager gave passes to any children that distributed these flyers, which I did. So there I was setting up type that would appear in print for the same movie house I distributed to pedestrians from and earlier period. It's no big deal now when I think back, but at the time it felt good seeing my work on printed circulars.

It did take some dexterity to compose moveable type in what is known as a stick to whatever style I chose. The boss didn't care that much so long as there were no typographical errors. Later bosses didn't give me the same reign.

My middle to late teen years was a fast-paced period. We were in a war time situation most of that time. World War II may have helped us out of a serious depression we were in, but not without costing in terms of human life and great suffering.

We were, as a family fragmented, as was most of the country at large. My brother Isaac (Ike) had just been drafted into the army shortly after his wedding day. As I recall, it may possibly have been the very next day.

Elias (Lou), my older brother, was serving in the Merchant Marines (Sea Bees) temporarily. He eventually was drafted into the U.S. army engineers.

My sister Rebecca (Betty) was working in an office environment at the Empire State Building in New York City, the tallest building of that period. She to, was married during the war time years or shortly thereafter.

It is difficult now that I'm in my sixties to develop any clear-cut moments of the past in terms of interest, some fifty years later. Many memories, of which almost all are altogether forgotten. Yet there are many high points to this coming of age format scenario.

Moods we had in the past may be lost forever. I remember being extremely idealistic. Feelings were straight laced and true.

There were no grey areas of good or bad. No half way details to confuse us. It was important to keep everything as simple as possible. At least so it was for the mind of this inexperienced teenager.

There were occasionally street skirmishes in the teeming summer months.

I remember having fist fights twice. Once with an Italian friend, which did not break our friendship after a few blows were exchanged on both sides.

We continued our penny ante poker games at his apartment long after the fight. Today I could not even recall why we fought.

I do remember being frightened during the bout, as is usually the case, especially with the prodding of bystanders.

The other time I fought was for no reason at all on my part. This fellow from the neighborhood evidently wanted to fight someone and it didn't seem to matter who it was.

He came at me feigning a fight with his arms raised and challenging me to fight him. I didn't want to fight him or anyone.

Again I was frightened and wanted to get away. At the time a group had been gathering around us. If it weren't for a black man I knew casually, I wouldn't have the confidence to fight.

He showed me how to stand and hold my hands up and bounce around from side to side.

We took our positions and started the contest. I managed to punch him in the face. Most likely it was a lucky punch. I seemed to be getting the edge on him as to hits. He must have sensed my confidence which must have altered his.

And there was a second time I got him in the face. This time he started to cry. An elderly lady saw us fighting and helped break it up. I was very glad she did. The boy I fought continued to sob as he left the area.

The black man congratulated me for the win. He must have felt it was because of his direction that made the difference. Frankly so did I, and I thanked him for it.

We parted and I don't recall ever seeing him again. To this day fighting is always something that won't make things better for anyone involved.

Whether as an individual or in a military combat situation, fighting cannot be an end in itself. It only tends to generate the next battle. What good can ever come of it?

In 1950 I had been working in a local print shop just about a ten minute walk from my apartment. In 1947 I was able to get to work in spite of a 25 inch snow fall. I walked under the Third Avenue EI where there was a very slight accumulation of a then record snow fall.

In early September, 1950 I was notified by my draft board to report to Whitehall Street for a physical examination due to a police action that occurred in Korea.

On October 31, 1950 I was ordered to report in the service of the U.S. Army. We were boarded on busses to Fort Devens, Massachusetts.

There were many visitors of soldiers’ families waiving to us as we left. No one from my family saw me off at Whitehall Street. We said our goodbyes at home.

I was really frightened going to war (police action as it was called). Would I ever come back home was one of my main thoughts. No doubt others had the same fears.

The bus contained some rather daring passengers. A joker behind me had a bottle of whiskey tucked away. When all was clear he offered anyone within reaching distance a swig.

Within a short period the drinking group was feeling no pain. It's amazing how brave a person can be with liquor in him.

They were joking around and feeling no apparent pain, at least not until we got to the camp. At that moment the fear of service life returned, “Will we die fighting.” I really didn't know for sure why I was willing to go and risk my life. Today's renegades flee to Canada.

At 22 years of age, who knew what to fight for? I certainly didn't. It wasn't as though the North Koreans were coming to our shores.

I was pulled out of my job learning a career in printing with approximately 3 years experience behind me. That war was not really a legitimate offensive to be in.

It was basically a civil conflict, North versus South. Communism was just a cloak for politicians to feed on.

Would it not be the same situation if during our civil war a century ago for some other nation to come in and favor one group over the other? I should think not.

And, had we a crystal ball to see what lay ahead, what a big mistake it was to get involved with Korea in the first place.

As it turned out, forty years later the North and South signed or are talking about a non-aggression pact.

Widespread nuclear weapons were enough of a catalyst to induce an agreement.

Luckily I didn't have to serve in Korea. Others unfortunately didn't have the same good fortune.

Once we arrived at camp, the next step was for the army to issue us our uniforms and equipment. The process was like going through an assembly line.

You kept moving in an orderly line while item by item was dumped on you. You didn't try anything on for size. They looked you over and that was it. You took it.

One of the recruits was so heavy, he had to train in his civilian pants before they found pants that would fit.

The army evidently figured you'll lose enough weight during training to fit into their clothing. As it turned out, they were right.

It must have taken two or three months for Pvt. Rose to do it. He was quite happy when he did. He was the only one wearing civilian pants during basic training.

Eventually Pvt. Rose became quite an accomplished skier when our outfit was sent to Alaska several months later.

Army life consisted primarily of being a well disciplined soldier who would follow orders fully and be in good physical condition. The rest was academic as far as your skills go.

If you showed any leadership qualities, there was a good chance that you would escalate in rank. I was quite happy staying a private first class after basic training.

As I look back now I think I was lucky to be brought into the newly activated South Dakota National Guard, as they were not assigned to serve in Korea.

Instead we all went to Alaska where it might have been freezing, but there were no shells flying around or buzzing overhead. Near the end of our training at Camp (now Fort) Carson, Colorado, rosters would be posted for duty either somewhere in Europe or the dreaded Korean conflict.

No one from South Dakota was ever pulled out. In that respect, it was quite unfair for the rest of us assigned to the guard as filler personnel, to be pulled out.

We would agonize every time a new list was posted.

I often wondered why certain individuals were drafted who had rather poor eyesight. A recruit from my home town was listed on a roster to serve in South Korea.

His eyesight was rather bad. So instead of putting him in a combat company, he was assigned to a special services company where he was well qualified as a photographer.

Evidently the army takes you in as long as your physical condition is okay. They won't on the other hand put you in a combat situation to the best of my knowledge.

Breaking into army life was a major change for me. From the beginning everything you did was at double time.

You trotted along the indoctrination offices: shots; insurance; rubber stamps to mark your clothing and equipment for identification purposes, etc., etc.

Who would think that anyone would want to steal a pair of socks or an item of clothing? Yet it evidently had been a problem in service life.

Another new thing for me was to adapt to a mass of live in personalities.

The nice part is that friendships developed in the process. Very often that was the best part of army life. Not that you didn't have a share of enemies as well.

Once acclimated, army life was perhaps the grandest experience of my life. For one thing, I enjoyed a period that gave me the greatest feeling of physical as well as mental well being never before realized.

I was never able to equal this wonderful sense of euphoria in civilian life after I was discharged from the army (September 11, 1952).

A good lesson I learned in service may seem comical, but I learned never to pee into the wind should anyone get my drift. I know I did. I could carry this theme to a broader sense as regards army life in general, but it would only put a damper on my rather negative attitude of army life.

After I was discharged, more accurately described as being separated from the service, we were required to serve in the inactive reserve for a period of 7 years.

The war in Korea was still going on when I left the Army. The end of the conflict was a matter for history to record. The war didn't offer me any feelings of accomplishment on my part. I did not serve in Korea for which I am not in the least bit sorry. My old job at the print shop was still open for me. I returned, but I was no longer the same person that left. Now I was a man of the world, or so I thought.

Alaska really wasn't that far away from the Bronx. There wasn't an ocean to cross to get there.

My parents no longer lived at the same apartment as they did before I left.

Even though I was 24 years at this time, it was inconceivable for me to find my own place.

The only time you left home in our family is when you were married. So it stayed that way till I got married in 1965, and not without its' problems which I won't go into at this time.

It was near the end of 1952 when I was discharged and in many respects, civilian life is a more normal path to go. I tried to incorporate some of the good habits I learned in the military.

I didn't need to salute my boss when pay day came around. Or stand at attention when a boss passed by.

I soon started to appreciate civilian life all over again. While I wouldn't talk back to my sergeant I didn't hesitate to ask what I thought was due me in the job market.

When I went back to work at the local print shop, there had been some new changes in the plant (store). Moveable type stored in cases was gone. In its place was a metal casting machine known as "ludlow" that took its place.

Within a very short period of time I composed type at a satisfactory speed. The family I worked for seemed to be pleased with me. They weren't paying me very much may be the reason. At any rate, my return stay lasted about four months.

The only time they weren't happy with me is when I tried to reconstruct a hammer handle that split in half. It didn't make sense to spend time at something if it was cheaper to purchase a new one. That form of reasoning is true in our society as a whole. I on the other hand enjoy the effort to repair things.

I had always wanted to join the printing union. They were the ones that commanded higher pay along with better working conditions from the employers.

I came to realize that I must change jobs in order to both learn all I could learn and seek a union shop that needed apprentices.

It wasn't possible to remain at my present employment any longer. They were an open shop and my future didn't seem too bright if I stayed there. Their equipment was scanty.

I didn't like being unemployed, but I had to start my job hunt. I got hold of the New York Times classified section and started to go down the listings.

In those days it was not so bad. Computers and automation were not on the scene yet.

If you were interviewed by an open shop they practically told you the pay would be okay as long as you weren't union orientated.

I of course didn't want to waste my time there. Al- though it would have been a great place to gain greater skills of the trade.

Your experience in the end was your greatest asset for landing a good paying job.

Union printers did pay well. In those years there was a big demand for good printers or typographers as they are known.

When I started my trek of jobs, it became quite clear to me how little I knew of the printing business.

It was difficult even landing an apprenticeship as there were lists of people waiting for an opening.

You couldn't just wait it out. It was a desperate time for me. You couldn't just sit still. Whatever jobs were open I had to take like it or not.

It was obvious that I had to learn my chosen trade. And as difficult as it was my only hope was to persevere.

To hit and run in the job market, not to stay still. So that's the road I took.

I knew that if I had six years experience in open shops I would qualify to take a union test, should there be an opening.

Unions needed avenues to bring in experienced men to the trade should a demand arise. They would call on men from open shops to fill the void.

That was the route that I had taken, even though I had very little choice to do anything else.

Waiting around for an apprenticeship would take two or three years. It was a big gamble without any guarantees, and another six years for completion.

After coming out of the service I wasn'1 about to wait for what I felt is my right. I might as well do battle with those that would deny me what I feel is a god given right.

If I was willing to make sacrifices of my life for this country, then so must my country do likewise. My greatest fight is right here in this land and not in Timbuktu.

It should be a mandate for any veteran that serves in the military during an armed conflict to be a ward of the state. Not to be dumped like an old abandoned sock.

My first and most likeable job came to me around 1954. I enjoyed it quite immensely. It was basically putting business type printing forms together. Such as bills of lading; invoice forms; any type of form that a given office would have in there stock room.

This job lasted near the six year experience requirement that the union imposed before entry. The thought of leaving left me at odds with myself.

I was beginning to earn enough to keep me happy. It was a great frustration for me to leave.

Getting paid for something you enjoyed doing is what the game is all about. The printing business as a whole was doing rather well. Compositors were at a premium. The union hall needed typographers desperately. That type of news circulates pretty fast for people at the trade.

My loving mother knew for many years that our cousin Isaac Magrisso had been in the union and she had constantly asked him if he would help me get in.

The day finally came when he was able to do it.

I had been thankful to my parents all my life for first bringing me into the world, then guiding me in life and again by helping me launch my career. Can anyone have a more valued life? I think not!

Getting out of the open shop proved to be the best choice for me to make. My maneuver had to come after I registered for the union test and met the experience requirements as well.

Confidentiality was my most guarded secret.

Should my present employer know my plans, he would discharge me at once, especially as we were going through a slow period.

The most important part of this story I've saved for last. With all that lie ahead for me I couldn't do it without having a union sponsor to bring me into the union.

He would attest to my credibility. Back up any of my claims of experience. He himself would have to be a union member. And go before a board of union officers to determine my qualifications from all aspects; any past negative dealings in union matters.

It was basically a trial of a person’s worthiness as a journeyman printer and a test of his union loyalty.

If I didn't have my cousin Isaac Magrisso to sit by me during our opening session, the chances of me getting into the union would be quite unlikely. To this end I owe him a debt of gratitude.

I must say at this time hesitantly, how I disappointed him when I showed up at the trial shabbily dressed.

I'll also take this opportunity to ask him for forgiveness for my lack of good sense. Even though I know he forgave me for it way back then, for he was not only a cousin but a friend as well.

I enjoyed a tour he gave me when I visited him at work. His rank was pretty high in the industry. Stone-hand was his title. For which he was quite capable and highly valued at his plant. It was his responsibility for all press runs at the plant, which is no easy task to say the least.

Unfortunately things at the trade started to show signs of change which affected all of us in years to come.

When I learned of my acceptance into the union, it was a custom for new members to show up at the next meeting for participation in ceremonies of a congratulatory nature.

It was quite a memorable experience. I felt like I was part of a new world. The term brother became a new meaning for me. It was a high I'll never forget.

About a month before my entry into the union, my boss got wind of my plan to leave and asked me if it was true. What would be the point of lying? He's always treated me pretty well. So I answered in the affirmative. And in so doing he terminated my employment.

In the beginning all was not as rosy as I had hoped. A union shop didn't automatically give you carte blanche.

You needed to demonstrate your talent to their satisfaction and very often under difficult conditions.

Never before was it necessary for me to be timed for every minute on the clock. Now it has changed for me. Not only must I be good, I must be fast as well.

When anyone starts a new job, geography is a major problem. Not only are there masses of type cases, frames, counters, stones and equipment, but you had to skirt around fellow workers to get the job done.

It didn't take long before my nerves started to wear thin. It was always a relief when you passed the hurdles.

Most bosses while they new the pressure you were in had to make yes or no decisions about your future. It wasn't difficult to see why. Pay scales were at a premium.

Too many bad decisions could and were made. If you got someone that saw something good about you, chances are you would be employed by them.

Time would be the final test. They would know within a two or three week period of your qualifications. It was a generally accepted time frame to decide whether you stayed.

Under union law it was possible to contest an employer’s decision, but I never would do it. I would just jockey around from job to job until I was successful.

Many people work poorly under pressure, but do rather well within their own pace.

Much to the surprise and disbelief of co-workers, I've seen excellent craftsmen produce works of art that were produced at a snails pace. While the dasher looks fast, he does not always produce the necessary end results.