Meditation in Grey

 

        77 years ago Mary Helen gave birth to the first born of she and Karl. That was in Indianapolis. Today that boy took a walk in California.

      It was a meditation. Each step was a celebration. Each sound was praise.

    Peace.

    See you down the trail.

America in Waiting

 

                    President Benjamin Harrison Presidential Site Indianapolis courtesy photo

    As America waits I share history and sentiment. I spent a lot of time at this wonderful historic site, serving on the board and eventually as president of the Benjamin Harrison Home board of directors. There is a connection to where we are now.

        Harrison was elected in 1888, defeating Grover Cleveland in a campaign that had its share of controversy and dispute. Harrison, who had served in the Senate, lost the popular vote by 90 thousand but won the electoral college 233 to 168. Almost 80% of eligible voters, some 11million, cast their ballots.

    Harrison was an advocate of civil rights and voting rights but America at that time was not ready. It would be another 32 years before women were extended the right to vote. Harrison spoke often in favor of African American rights. Most modern Americans know little if any of Benjamin Harrison, who's Grandfather was William Henry Harrison, the 9th President. He was also the great grandson of a name sake who signed the Declaration of Independence. Dispute over tariffs cost him his re-election bid, as he was defeated by Cleveland, the man he beat four years earlier. His one term is a rich tapestry of an emerging American nation on the cusp of the 20th Century.

    Watching recent campaigns painfully serves to inform how poorly educated we Americans are about our history. The last 4 years has been a catalogue of ignorance and lies. If we knew our history, perhaps we'd be better citizens. 

    The 2020 campaign will be studied as an oddity. There will be volumes to come but already Tom Friedman writes the US is the loser in this election.

    "We have just experienced four year of the most divisive and dishonest presidency in American history, which attacked the twin pillars of our democracy-truth and trust." Friedman wrote and I agree.

    My Irish friend Jack, a devotee of US history and culture, wrote to me on election day with a powerful assessment I share here.

    This could be a day of days or the end of days.

I expect Joe Biden to be elected with a significant majority in the Electoral College and a big majority in the popular vote.

However, if Trump is re-elected the American people will not be able to claim that they did not know what 4 more years of Trump will entail, even if the Democrats take the Senate. They will have chosen corruption, moral bankruptcy, division, lies, lies and more lies. The US will be shown to no longer be a democracy. It will be a plutocracy, put in place by the Supreme Court (Citizens United), enabled by the Supreme Court (the evisceration of the Voting Rights Act) and by a once great political party, the party of Lincoln; a bandit country in which people armed with weapons capable of firing 60 rounds a minute can invade a state capitol without hindrance or consequence (Supreme Court on 2nd amendment; a justice system which is getting more and more unjust; a country in which civil rights are in retreat; a country which is a pariah in the world; a country which is reaping the harvest of a criminal lack of investment in public education and no investment in public health (socialism!); a country in which the First Amendment right to protest will be suppressed by troups, whether federal, National Guard, ICE or other; a country where the media have been captured by the plutocracy (Murdoch/Fox 'News', spreading like a malevolent virus across the nation, shutting down local newspapers, radio and television); a country where JFK's 'Ask not what your country can do for you...' would be laughed at... I could go on. We all could. The list is endless and the 'appalling vista' (Lord Denning in Bermingham 6 appeal) would become a rooted reality in a once great country, a country to which the free world (does it exist anymore?) looked for leadership.

It is staggering that it has come to this but, as many have pointed out, this did not start with Trump, it has been many years in the making.

Let's pray that Biden's election will be the first step in the re-building of the USA, a re-building that will take generations, a re-buildng that so many good, decent Americans of all political hues deserve.

    It is truth and logic. I am embarrassed at America's decline in the eyes of the world. I am embarrassed by Trump, his destruction of the Republican party, and those who support him and condone his attack on truth and trust. His gains for his partisans are not worth the destruction he has rendered.

   It troubles me this nation has descended where millions can condone unAmerican and boorish behavior by a man who is ultimately a Russian stooge playing a starring role in sowing division, discord and eroding our confidence and trust in who we are. He did it for his own aggrandizement. It is a fact that we cannot dismiss. And as we pick through the next four years and beyond, it is a recent history we must account for. He fueled it for gain and greed and we are a divided people.

    There is work to do, rebuilding the United States, despite ourselves. We hope the days of the divider, working only for his base, are over. We need a uniter, a healer, a president for all Americans and a leader for the world. 

    For the time being, stay positive. Catch up on your sleep.

       Thanks to Bruce, the editor.

       See you down the trail.

Respite

    Gentle ripples on a little pond in the flow of San Simeon Creek offer a respite from the madness and sickness of  2020.
     Remember the kind of world you imagined for 2020, back when we were filled with dreams and when most of life, including the distant 21st century was far in the future.
     For health and for a kind detox I've been visiting the past. 

   Farmers and ranchers on the California central coast have been "putting up hay."
   That leads me back to the early 1960s in central Indiana.
    US Highway 40 east of Indianapolis was dotted with villages and crossroads that were once part of the National Road. Places like Cumberland, Gem, Philadelphia, and Charlotte were little clusters of a life that passed by when the Interstate system was built. A few still had grain elevators and the expanse between was farmland.
    My father rented an historic and drafty large farmhouse in Cumberland, as we awaited the construction of new home near a golf course. I got to know the local lads, the Hills, and their cousins the Hilkene's and Sharpe's. They were farm kids and their families "put up hay" every summer and needed manpower.

      We'd start early in the morning, as soon as the field was dry. There were usually two of us on a wagon, pulled by tractor hooked up to a baler. 
      Blades would gather the cut hay and it was fed into a kind of conveyor.

         The baler shaped the hay and then wrapped it with a line or wire to keep it in a block. My job was to stand on the front of the wagon with a hook

  and grab the wrapped bale off the conveyor, turn and hoist it to Bobby, Chip, Jack, or who ever was on that wagon. He'd then stack it on the growing pile. We rarely had three on our wagons, so the "boy-power" could be spread to another wagon working the same field.
        The farms were large, the fields were massive, and the bales kept coming at you without stop.

           Hay is "put up" in the summer. The sun is scorching,  the hay or straw is scratchy and there were days when I thought the field was an ocean. But we'd always stop at noon. If there was a tree line with shade we'd settle there or get a ride to an area that was out of the sun. The farmer's wife would bring us picnic baskets full of relief. There were gallons of lemonade, iced tea, either a mountain of sandwiches or fried chicken. And usually there was a pie or fresh baked cookies.  15 and 16 year olds can devour more food than you can imagine.

          After lunch, and a moment to answer "nature's call," it was back to the wagon, field and hay. After a field had been cleared, or when the stacks were at a proper height, we'd jostle along to the barn, where the bales had to be off loaded and stored.

         I got stuck in the loft one day and thought I'd die from not being able to breath. A barn hayloft in the heat of summer is a miserable place. After that I was the guy who hauled the hay off the wagon and threw it on to a conveyor where the rest of the guys would go about filling the loft. They'd handle only every third for fourth bale, but tossing each one was worth not being in the loft.

   When ever I see hay in a field, I go back to those couple of years of learning to work. 

    Back then the future was unlimited. I want it to be that way for my grandchildren as well.

       We've got to get better at solving problems and working around or through differences.

      Lana took these shots the other day. She said it looked like I was talking to the cow. I was. 
       We'd been hiking for a while in the sun and I needed a moment in the shade, a shade being shared. I told the cow she didn't need to bolt, or charge me, that there was plenty of shade for the two of us. We made peace.

     There's been a lot of recent attention to the fact so many are depressed, or ill, full of the toxic nature of the news.   
      There is the unrelenting worry about Covid and this nation's failure to handle it as well as most of the world.    
      Then this age of reckoning brings us to painful truths and difficult decisions. I hope they are growing pains, but pains none-the-less.
      Remember when we used to say, as mad and as incompetent as Trump is, at least there is no crisis. Almost seems like the good old days doesn't it. Another mile marker on the descent of this nation.

             If I may suggest, a great antidote is to spend a few minutes viewing Lincoln Project videos and/or the videos  of Republican's Against Trump. They are short and cathartic. The truth is always alternative to the sick fantasy world the sick man weaves. Seeing it all told so well may help this nation with it's first political exorcism.
         I've been gratified by the early response of college leaders who say the administration's recent ICE crackdown on foreign students is just more evil and meanness. I hope they fight it. 

           We are fortunate to have the timeless shore, help with our emotional respite. We enjoy being able to share a few moments.

       Another respite moment came the other day when friends Jacque and Griff arranged for this. The talented Brynn Albanese and Eric Williams entertained a socially distanced block gathering within view of the Pacific.

  They are renowned and have superb credits and resumes, but like all musicians, have been sidelined. It was pure pleasure to see and hear them back in action.

   Everyone seemed to enjoy the respite. 

   I apologize to my friends abroad. This is not the America that nations could once trust. This is not the America that was recognized as a leader on important issues, as a beacon of light. We did it to ourselves, but I'm gaining a sense we will fix this. I suspect there is a hard rain coming, and it will be a time of rumble. 
    We seem on a path to address our racist and genocidal proclivities. Honest acknowledgement is forthcoming, even now. Fixing it will take time, but it will be good work for a nation.
     I think most have been shaken into a state of awareness. The prevailing cultural attitudes of celebrity, wealth and entertainment are not lodestones for a serious nation, nor the values by which to measure women and men for the fitness of work on the public's behalf. 
     These are hard truths. We ate the poison. It made us sick. It is killing us, but we know the cure, and the power resides within.

          Stay safe and well. Take care of each other. That is our destiny.

    See you down the trail.

A Statesman

 Richard Lugar and Birch Bayh

1980 AP photo

Two legendary US Senators

     Richard Lugar was a great man. There is a reason he served one of the longest terms ever in the US Senate; he was a thoughtful, analytical intellect, he was a devoted public servant with a drive to make things better, he stood his ground, he chided and pushed even Presidents, and he worked as hard as anyone to make this world safe from nuclear weapons.
   Lugar's passing at 87 is reason for you to spend a few minutes reading some of the cascade of coverage about this remarkable man from Indiana. 

       Tom and Senator Lugar at Richard Lugar Fitness Fest and Run

Lugar was an early advocate of fitness and was a runner.

      I was fortunate to meet and begin covering his political and public service career in 1969. He was the young mayor of Indianapolis and I was a reporter assigned to cover city government.
     At one of our first meetings, Mayor Lugar, who was organizing an international conference of cities, got down on his hands and knees and worked through an overflowing book case, looking for a manuscript by a scholar. He was an habitual reader, voracious consumer of information which he worked to integrate into his public service.

an historic save

      Lugar's work on Nuclear Disarmament and Agricultural reform were his long suits in the Senate where he was respected by both sides of the aisle. 
      Lugar was at the center of one of the most critical and dangerous tipping points in history.
      The Soviet Union had collapsed and Generals from the Red Army showed up in Washington wanting to talk about life and death matters.  
     Secretary of State Baker and the HW Bush White House were being careful, but to a fault and spurned the contact.
     Lugar took the meeting and along with Democrat Sam Nunn heard this message-The Soviet power structure is gone, so is the command of the Soviet Army and Navy and that means we no longer have control over nuclear war heads that have US addresses on them. The same is true for chemical and biological weapons. 
        Diverse locales, Georgia, Ukraine, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Estonia, Lithuania, Latvia and other nations that had been under the Soviet boot heel, had weapons, bases, ports and stock piles in their now independent nation. Who controlled them? That was the million dollar question.
      Lugar and Nunn were quick. Lugar, a former naval intelligence officer and Chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee knew rogue players and terrorists soon would be bidding for control of the old Soviet nukes and chemical weapons and material.
     With in hours he and Nunn had worked legislative handles and had millions of dollars to essentially save the world. Soon they were flying off to the old Soviet empire and "buying" war heads, and paying military officers to stay in place and guard the nukes and subs, paying to house Soviet troops who were ready to desert since the empire was no longer in place and could not or would not pay the troops. The troops had families at home and they needed money. Command control was breaking down.
     What Lugar and Nunn saw would raise the hairs on the back of your neck. They returned to the states and crafted what was known as the Nunn-Lugar act. The US would buy weapons and take them down. It eventually became known as the Cooperative Threat Reduction plan. The two of them built a legislative consensus and kept the program funded. After Nunn retired, the work was Lugar's to do.
     This period of Lugar's work was one of the great diplomatic plays of all time. It is in the echelon of the Marshall Plan.  
    As a documentary maker I developed a project to tell the story. It didn't get made. As we were fundraising 9/11 happened. The focus shifted.

Senator Lugar and Lewis Stiner at the ceremony of Stiner's retirement

    Lugar was a progressive and creative mayor who was the godfather of revitalization of rustbelt cities. The halo around Indianapolis as one of America's great cities, was drafted and   the work began under Lugar, with the assistance of his dynamic staff, especially the visionary Jim Morris. The new Indianapolis that followed became guide light for other cities reinvention. 

     Morris was one of the brilliant young thinkers Lugar brought to public service and there were many.

     I met a young Mitch Daniels as he worked in that era and with Lugar's first political chief, Keith Bulen. Daniels became his Senate chief of staff for several years and later worked in the Reagan and W Bush administrations as well as being twice elected Indiana Governor. He is now President of Purdue University.

    The coverage of his passing reprises the extraordinary record of his 36 years in the Senate. Consider the sweep of history from 1977 to 2013 and ponder that Lugar was often a pivotal player and was revered and respected by politicians from every point on the spectrum.

     Praise came from former Presidents, current candidates, Democrats, Republicans and foreign leaders. They respected his depth and they liked the man. 

     When my fraternity brother and long time friend retired from Naval Intelligence, Lugar was there. He respected Lew's service. Lugar had been a legendary intelligence briefer for Admiral Raleigh Burke. He said that had been a shaping experience.

     A lot of people think Lugar would have been a good President. He gave it a run in 1996. One of his chief operators was Mark Lubbers, another of the brilliant people attracted to service by Lugar. 

     His campaign was themed on fiscal sanity and nuclear security. He was a brainy and non flashy candidate but what was the death knell for his campaign was the day it launched, April 19, 1995, the day of the bombing of the Federal building in Oklahoma City. Millions of prospective voters didn't get to see or hear what would have been his moment in the spotlight.

      Amongst those who knew, worked with or covered Lugar there was always discussion about what might have been, how might the world have been different.
      Lubbers has advised Governors and lawmakers and has leveraged his own creative approach to policy issues, mentored by the Senator. Lubber's wife Teresa has spent her life as a multi term State Senator and Commissioner of Education. Her path to public service was inspired by Lugar who she interviewed as a high school journalist. He had a twinkle and spark and a way of motivating.
       There is a cadre of politicians and public servants who were inspired by the former school board officer, innovative mayor and towering 6 term US Senator.

      

      I've been ruminating on lots of Lugar reflections. 
      One that makes me laugh is when my first historical mystery-thriller novel was published. I was on Sanibel Island vacationing and doing a series of book signings. Lugar's staff reached me to say the Senator was also on the Island, one of his favorite break spots and that I should take a book around to him.

      When I arrived I was directed to a location near the pool and beach under an umbrella. There was the senator in a polo style shirt, Bermuda shorts, with dark, to the knee socks and I think wing tip shoes. They may have been loafers.

      I've written before about some of the greatest evenings.

When I was president of the Indianapolis Press Club we hosted dinner and conversations with Senator Lugar and Representative Lee Hamilton. Those men were among the most knowledgeable on national security, intelligence and foreign relations. They held ranking positions in the Senate and House. Sitting there and listening to their state of the art information and analysis, and seeing the respect they had for each and the marvelous byplay was a good as it gets.

     And so was Lugar. I didn't agree with all of his votes, but I respected him and the intelligence he put into his public service. He may have read more than anyone I know. He certainly did more to keep the world safe than probably anyone else.  
    If you don't know much about this man, read a few articles. He deserves the attention due a genuine and historic "Statesman." There are precious few.

       See you down the trail.

BLACK AND WHITE COOL NEEDED

as long as we have words

     As we struggle with race in America here's an interesting  perspective. Picture last week's victims of police violence and the murdered police officers in Dallas as children. Picture the executioners as children as well. Reflect on that for a moment-once they all were kids, playful, innocent and not yet ensnared in the virus of racism.

     I heard author Kwame Alexander pose that idea and it cuts to the heart of the matter.  

     I've posted previously about KLAN the documentary I wrote, produced and directed that examined how racism is passed through generations. There are moments when children are free from the poison of hatred. Those are moments of hope and possibility. We become discouraged we cannot evolve or eradicate the psychology and seeds of prejudice. But it does happen. In my study of the klan we heard a young daughter of a klan leader say "...they should shoot all the niggers or put them back in the slave houses."  10 years later in a re-visit of the documentary that girl, now a young woman, apologized explaining how wrong she had been. But it came with a price. She was rejected by her father and thrown out of their home. 

a hot summer in the city

      It was during an earlier season of racial tension when cities were erupting. Dick Lugar was still a relatively new mayor and Indianapolis was in a metamorphosis from an aging rust belt old industrial city to the dynamic place it has become. This was in the early gearing up of the change and there were urban illnesses. His young team of visionaries were treating those malady's bit by bit while constructing a larger dream. It did not help that Cincinnati, Chicago, Gary, St Louis, Columbus, Dayton and other neighboring cities were in varying degrees of trouble and disintegration. It was a time of powder kegs.

      Indianapolis threatened to explode because of sparks coming from an area known as Highland Tech, an old neighborhood that had changed. It was near the Women's Prison, Arsenal Tech, the state's largest high school and bordered by business and industry that had eaten away at a once staid area. Now working class and those barely escaping poverty, black and white mixed and there had been shootings and violence in the streets and alleys. Race violence was suspected. The Black Panther party was thought to be responsible, or so the rumor and "consensus" had it. That was not the case.

       I spent two weeks walking house to house in the troubled area, morning, afternoon and evenings. I talked to everyone who opened the door, some would not, out of fear. I stopped people who were walking, talked with gaggles of people in alleyways, garages, on porches and street corners. One on one and with groups, black, white, those who were new to the neighborhood and long time residents. I spent time talking with Panther leaders. I learned the truth and it was something different than most people thought.

     The Panthers were not involved. In fact the shootings and and violence were the result of a couple of gangs, one a notorious white motorcycle outfit. They were warring over turf and a drug trade. I reported that. It was news to the police department and to activist groups that had been ratcheting up on a false premise. I was thanked by the Mayors office that began to work with neighbors and a neighborhood association, armed with the knowledge of the reality on the street. One racial tinderbox defused, by facts and rationality. 

     Presumptions are akin to prejudice. Both are dangerous.

America needs cool heads, honest talk, frank conversation and a government that is willing to work.

cooling walk

     As swelter and bake describe conditions where some of you reside LightBreezes provides cooling scenes.

   Though blue sky and bright sun adorned our ridge a stroll along a Pacific bluff trail in northern San Luis Obispo County presented a cooling marine fog and brisk breeze. 

    A wetland, fed by a spring creates a vibrant verdancy.

    See you down the trail.

OFF THE ROAD

NO MORE A ROAD WARRIOR

Between Indianapolis and Phoenix

    7:40 AM and I'm sitting at the bar, the only seat available in  the crowded airport restaurant. My wake up call had come at Midnight on my body clock, 3:00 AM in Indianapolis.

     "What'll you have to drink?" the bartender asks after putting out another gin to the guy sitting at my left and another beer to the guy two spaces down on the right.

      "Coffee" I say watching the constant milling of people in and out of the tight space between tables and the shifting of spots at the bar.

       The guy to my immediate right asks to be topped off on coffee as he holds a paperback in his left hand, his right hand working on an omelet.

      I'm looking around and amazed at how young these travelers are, most of them are on business. After the years I've logged you can spot the road warriors from the tourists. 

      In that moment a switch that had begun to turn a few nights ago, completed its click.

      The flight got in at 1:15 AM. For years I've used a particular car rental agency that offers something called a rapid rez so you bypass lines, go immediately to the garage get your car and on your way. A breakfast meeting awaited after what would be the usual first night of battle with hotel pillows and bed, heating system and the likely impossibility of opening a window for real air. Sleep would be a challenge, but the rapid rez would get me moving that way. Wrong! There was not a waiting car. A lot attendant broke the news the computers crashed and I'd have to go back to the terminal and wait in line. Guess she see could the color drain. 

      She said "I'll be over in a couple of minutes to help you."

      No one is happy at the counter, especially the folks waiting in line. The clerks are doing the best they can, filling forms by long hand and swiping credit cards, but as the clock ticks and sleep disappears, the best laid plans are washing away as though being soaked by the cold rain outside.

     The young lady arrives, takes my credit card and disappears to the office behind the counter. Several minutes later she reappears with temporary paperwork explaining the form that would need to be explained in turn to the gate keeper.

     Loaded, seats adjusted, trying to figure out the heating and defrost controls, I roll up on the gate man who seems more perplexed than anything, but lifts the bar and I'm out into a driving rain at a temperature hovering above freezing.

     It's funny but after you've been away from a place for a while you begin to doubt your directions. I thread the on and off ramps and follow the signs to the downtown trying to remember my old short cuts, but loosing confidence as I drive. That and the place continues to be built and changed for SuperBowls, and NCAA Final Fours and myriad conventions.  My destination is a grand hotel I've been in more times than I could recall, but I couldn't recall where in the hell the entrance was. 

     The clock is running on me and chance of sleep is flying away as I circumnavigate the block a couple of times, cursing about what have they done with the entrance. Then I remember, though new buildings conspired against a clear vista.

      The car has been sent to the valet garage and I've been given keys that must be swiped before the elevator will assign my floor. This is new and requires a juggling act of shoulder bag, plastic bag with water, suitcase and keys.

      Ah, into the room, suits and shirts hung up, dob kit out and it looks like there may be a decent pillow on the bed. Still sleep time is being chewed up and that breakfast meeting is getting closer. Teeth are brushed and I reach for my mouth wash wondering the moment it hits my tongue why it had become like a gel.  I didn't have time to riddle that before the taste slammed me in the head with a realization-I had just taken a big swig of shampoo. Have you tried to rinse out a mouthful of shampoo?  I hope you never must.  That is when the switch began to click down.

     Now sitting here marveling at the youth of the road warriors, my nostrils assaulted by a few nights of dry hotel air, and damp chill of Indianapolis winter, my throat equally scratchy I knew definitively the road has passed me by. Even for vacation travel, I get a big sense of dread whenever I think about the packing, airports, the transfers, the hotels and what have you. I love to jump into the car and go explore, but it is the airports and the planes and not being in control that is the problem. 

    On this morning I'm listening to several weaves of conversation-missed connections, mechanical delays, scrambling to reschedule meetings, security clearance nightmares and etc. Been there and done that. I logged many thousands of miles at 36 thousand feet, all around this blue marble. There was a time I thought I could do it forever. On this morning, that seemed like a lifetime ago.  

      All I wanted now was to hug Lana, pet the cats, see the big Pacific and rolling Santa Lucia Mountains, smell fresh air, real air and be with others who also appreciate an eclectic little village, miles from roaring semis, hotel air and shampoo for mouth wash. Guess I should surrender my road warrior credentials.  

      There's a post script though, since life is not a fairy tale.

The light rain falling as we deplaned down the steps and walked across the runway felt good in this drought inflicted state. The snafu in this land of contentment was a baggage conveyor that broke down as several of us seemed eager to end our individual odysseys. Oh well, the video loop that kept playing over the bag less conveyor featured the scenic best of the coast, vineyards, hiking trails and at least, we were home.

      And the soaking my bag got, waiting to take its turn in the tunnel seemed to have dissolved those road warrior credentials. Amen!

     SOMETHING GOOD

    For many of us who were Ball State University students, the above was probably a staple of our diet.  Pizza King was a local enterprise that etched itself into our history. This particular 8 inch personal creation is one of our favorites, eccentric though it may be. Hamburger with barbecue sauce.

It must be tasted to be appreciated.

   Anyone who has visited Indianapolis will recognize this as the century old and venerable Shapiro's Deli. The number of lunches I enjoyed here, and even a few dinner breaks with my Mom is incalculable. After spending a day shooting video on this last trip, being outside in a chill, though locals said it was a "nice" day, I stopped in for a bowl of their warming Matza Ball soup.

    There were a couple of other memory moments-below a plaque at the Indiana State Museum.

MOM'S MOMENT

   We would never visit the cemetery that mom did not want to pause at this sculpture. It was one of her favorite places.  The title is Innocence. Over the years it has become one of those special places for me.

    Now it is a place where I remember and in a very real

way, feel my mother's presence. Moment's like this can make the travel worthwhile.

    See you down the trail.

ON THE LETTERMAN SHOW

ALL TOO QUICKLY

The writer on the David Letterman Show September 29, 1980

    The day before Dave Letterman departed Indiana for what has become an historic future, we had a picnic on our wooded property in southern Indiana.

     His pick up truck was loaded and he was a bit apprehensive. He and his then wife Michelle and Lana and I had packed a lunch and were there to give him a send off. Dave was in what Jay Leno would refer to as his Dinty Moore fashion stage. Dave had calculated how long they could survive before he or she got jobs. He was ready to work at a gas station if need be.  

    We had been a big supporter of his move. I was convinced he'd make it, big. Dave was, as he often can be, more doubtful. But the point was, he was giving it a go.  Oh, how things would have been different for all of us if he had not spooled up the courage to give it a shot. It took guts going from Indiana to Hollywood.

     In the last couple of months I have been interviewed by people from the New York Times, magazines, papers and local television stations. I have said repeatedly, as I have since the late 70's, Dave is one of, if not the most, innovative user of television and technology. Way back I told an author writing a book about Dave that he was able to build on the innovative genius of Ernie Kovacs in terms of how to use the medium and technology to entertain. He raised the bar and created a new standard for the format even disposing of what was a kind of artificial formality about television programs.

      I remember sitting one evening in our east side Indianapolis apartment watching our favorite, the master, Johnny Carson.  Johnny was doing his Carnack bit, supplying questions to the answers read by Ed McMahon. Dave was supplying his own lines and they were better than Johnny's.

     In the early days I hosted a morning radio magazine show  broadcast on two stations. I hired Dave to write a kicker "essay" to run two or three days week to close out the hour.  He'd write, call me to run through it, then later we'd record it. Often he was not sure what he had written was funny. I tell you in all honesty it was brilliant. I remember laughing so hard sometimes that I'd almost drop the phone. It was a genesis of his  brand of humor that is now so well known. But being original and cutting edge there were a few in news management who did not appreciate it. There were times when getting the checks to Dave was delayed because the boss had not written a requisition, so there were weeks when I paid him the $25 to $50 out of my pay, which at the time was $150 a week. Neither one of us had much money, but it didn't matter. The important thing was to get his work on the air.

      A couple of years before that Dave took my shift at a little AM radio station in Muncie Indiana. Lana and I were married in April and we were going to honeymoon in Europe until August-that was back in the days of Europe on budget plan. Dave took over my mid-day shift which included doing news casts and then an afternoon drive time shift of playing hit music. I told him he'd need to play it straight doing the news, but could have fun on the DJ shift.  He did both. And as I have said before, "Look where it got him!"  That is facetious of course because what got him there was a rare and unique sense of humor and amusement.

     I'm a bit stunned that my old friend is wrapping up 33 years, an historic television record. I told someone many years ago that I thought Dave would be in the pantheon with names like Carson, Benny, Hope, Kovacs, Allen, and Berle. He's there. He's made us laugh and he's been clarifyingly honest. He's inspired generations of new entertainers. He is indeed one of the greatest.

     I think of all of his bits and shtick what I enjoy most is hearing Dave laugh, when he is genuinely amused. I'd love to again spend some time with him, but what I hope most for him in his retirement is that he'll find a lot of reasons to laugh, genuinely. 

      

       And Dave, next time I'm on your show, make sure the graphics operator knows how the name is spelled.

LANA'S TOP 10 FOR DAVE

   Lana tries her hand at comedy writing as a salute to Dave.

    THE TOP TEN THINGS DAVE WILL PURSUE WHEN HE RETIRES

    10- Open a Pizza Parlor in Muncie

      9-Be a judge in the Westminster Dog Show

      8-Teach Harry how to mow the lawn

      7-Run off to Italy with George Clooney

      6-Be the oldest Rookie at the Indy 500

      5-Open a Hardware Store

      4-Play bocce on Thursday with Jon Stewart

      3-Become a florist like his Dad

      2-Move to California and smoke weed with Ophra

      1-Finally get a real job!

       See you down the trail.