Two of my favorite performers from the Golden Age of Radio—Fred Allen and (wife) Portland Hoffa—have generously baked yours truly a birthday cake to celebrate the tenth anniversary of my 39th natal anniversary. (Though in the tradition of the “feud,” I think Fred might have winced at that last part.) Many thanks to Facebook chum John Wells for posting this on my “wall,” as the kids call it—I’m always up for a good snapshot of Fred and Porty, who was once told by James Thurber “everything you and Fred said to each other was somehow akin to The Sweetheart Duet from Maytime.”
The ‘rents and I have planned a simple celebratory affair—I
was very fortunate than Mom made pancakes this a.m. (the best to me this
morning!) and will later work her magic on her new barbecue grill with a couple
of twenty-pound butt steaks. (Kroger’s
had a sale on rib eyes a while back…and we socked a couple away for the
occasion.) Mom is in charge of grilling around
Rancho Yesteryear, because Dad hates it…this will come as a complete shock to
BBFF Stacia, who loves grilling more than life itself.
By the way, the doyenne of She Blogged by Night is currently whooping it up in
I’m not normally a corny or sentimental guy…but I am in
extraordinary good spirits today simply because I have been receiving a torrent
of heartfelt birthday wishes from my boon companions on Facebook, and though I will
probably be mocked in the comments section I still believe wholeheartedly in the
lesson to be taken away from It’s a
Wonderful Life—no man is poor who has friends. To each and every one of them who gave me a
shout-out…you’re a good group. But for
those of you who’d like a bit of lemon to cut the sweetness, I will share this
goodie sent to me this morning by Peter Nellhaus of coffee coffee and more coffee (a title card from the 1927 silent
film Girls, directed by George
Marshall):
I had planned to talk about a trip to the library Mom and I took this week…but that will have to be a post for another day. (Besides, I have writing to catch up on.) So until next time—on with the opera. Let joy be unconfined. Let there be dancing in the streets, drinking in the saloons, and necking in the parlor. (Play, Don...)
6 comments:
Let us enter this den of iniquities and commit a couple of iniquities
Or perhaps three, time permitting.
Happy Birthday, Ivan.
Peter Belhaus writes: What Cronenberg reminds us is that Eric is not only detached from other people, but also himself. The film can easily be read as a parable of our times.
I followed your link and fell asleep several times before finally arriving at this, the most sleep-inducing [head falls to chest, snoring....}
And a word about In-and-Out Burgers:
My brother, who fled L.A. to marry the woman of his dreams in Maryland, misses exactly two things. Second, the Dodgers, but he can still get that on the cable, and first, In-and-Out Burgers.
There's an 800 number and website you can call up to locate the nearest IAOB location and my brother has 'em on the speed dial, for his infrequent trips to the southwestern united states, and every time I've picked him up at LAX when he comes to visit, the first question is always the same.
Pinky: So, what do you want to do tonight, Brain?
Brain: Same thing we do every night, Pinky. But first we'll get burgers and fries at the closest available In-And-Out.
I swear, it's like a salmon on his way upstream; if I actually said something like "no, I'm sorry, we don't have time, your sister's wedding is just about to begin, and you are, I remind you, the best man," it would have been to no avail.
Me, I love In-And-Out Burgers, but I think that has more to do with the zeitgeist of the place and time in which I first consumed them (Pasadena, the sixties) than anything else.
And so, I imagine, is the case with my brother.
Happy Birth (and Afterbirth) Day, Ivan! Appropriate sentiments are up over at World O' Crap (and I just added a more suitable cheesecake photo. I honestly don't know what I was thinking with that picture of Ronald Reagan, but it was the middle of the night, and I'd taken Ambien...)
Ivan, if that cake I sent you is still ticking, just soak it in a bucket of water.
Happy birthday mi amigo and many more...and my I be around to wish you the same each and every time (I just celebrated the 17th anniversary of my 39th birthday, so I really REALLY mean that).
Ivan, very best to you!
Post a Comment