The Decade Concludes with Jack Bauer vs Santa!

Dear Brouhaha readers;

My Christmas wish for you: despite the frantic pace and anxiety the season of peace brings, I hope you can take 5 minutes to reflect on how far you've come, and embrace the moments of peace you can hopefully find now, and renew your hope for the coming decade.

The past decade flew by. I was just getting used to it and it's gone already. Having seen a decade or two (ahem), I think this past one has offered the worst of times and yet the best of times. At least in my memory.

I just read somewhere that this decade has had fewer natural disasters than the previous one, for instance. Hard to believe calling to mind the tragic tsunamis, devastating earthquakes, horrific hurricanes that drowned and demolished major cities. Not to mention worldwide terrorist attacks and ongoing genocides. For Pete's sake, we've been at war for 8 years of the decade now with no end in sight. Not uplifting events.

But what is uplifting is that this nation has actually elected a black man as President. I was a young child growing up in the 50's. In my lifetime African Americans couldn't use the same bathrooms as whites, the Ku Klux Klan still killed blacks and the whites who supported them with impunity, and basic human rights were intentionally denied to so many.

So Obama's election is a major step forward in recognizing and honoring the uniqueness and basic equality of humankind. Don't unfurl the banner that says "Mission Accomplished" yet because the road ahead for human rights is still long. But this was a major victory for us all, no matter what kind of president he is. I think he will be a good one in that arena as well.

As King Arthur said, this was "one brief shining moment" during a decade when so much hatred was exposed in the name of radical religious fanatics. But, oh, how that moment shines.

But that is not the only thing to cheer about from this past decade. Science and technology gave us wonderful and affordable tools to the common man or woman. Almost any of us can experience and participate in art, photography, music and communication in ways no one could even imagined ten years ago. It makes our lives so much richer! I know the world has become much smaller and my network of fellow travelers/friends on this journey is now worldwide and growing thanks to the miracle of the Internet. Thanks Al Gore! :-)

What can we expect and hope for in the next decade? It looks like we'll make major medical advances because of projects like the Human Genome research will begin to yield results. Will we finally see the end of cancer as we know it now? I think this would be humankind's next great accomplishment. We all know someone who is suffering from cancer or has shuffled off our globe at an early age from the deadly killer. We need to pop open a can of whoop-ass on that bad boy. Also, a little prayer might help as well.

Now for Something Completely Different

In the most bizarre of throwdowns, we've found this wonderful little video on YouTube. It's the classic battle of evil vs. good in a mashup of everyone's favorite rogue agent vs the Jolly Old Elf, himself. Can you guess who wins?

Happy New Year!

The Christmas Letter You Never Got

Editor's Note: At one time or another we've all received the perfect holiday letter from the perfect family. You know the one. Everything is beautiful. The kids are all-star players and honor roll students, the parents are climbing career ladders at breakneck speed, the new custom built house has plenty of room if you want to visit, and the new shore house is just perfect. And in between all the volunteer work at the soup kitchen, not to mention the golf and tennis club charity balls, they want to reach out to you -- the little people they once knew.

Yes, now they reach down to you personally -- even though it's obvious that they send the same letter to everyone. It's not even signed in real ink -- just a "love you -- the [family surname only]". You can't even tell who composed the damn letter so you would know who to blame.

Well, here is Brouhaha's answer to the perfect year end letter. If your life isn't all it should be, just copy this letter to send -- just fill in the names as appropriate.


Hello everyone! Kisses and hugs to you all! Our family had another really great year and I want to share with you just how wonderful our lives are.

If you are reading this family update, it's probably because we were very close with one at one point in our lives but either due to the shallowness of our previous relationship OR our change in social status, we have lost touch. Or maybe you are a family member that no one in the family talks to very often. Whatever! Time to catch up with the our family news!

Not that "things" are the most important things in life, but we are proudest moment in 2009 was when the bank renegotiated our mortgage on our shore house. Thank goodness! I don't know what we would have done this summer! It can get a little warm in Short Hills and you know how crowded the regular beaches get that time of year. Plus can you imagine the pain of having to travel that much farther to the summer country and pool club? Lord-ee me!

Hey, but I still have a bluebird on my shoulder!

Our daughter, Trudy, has just met a wonderful man! As you know she is a real go-getter! She is a management trainee at Hooters and when there was a big golf tournament in town, she met a dashing young man. He's a professional golfer known world-wide, according to her. But you know how modest she is -- she won't tell us who it is! But when the time is right, Trudy says, everyone will know about them! We are very excited for her and hope that wedding bells might be in the future!

As for our son, Butch, is really doing very well in high school. He is the quarterback of the team and has a new girlfriend every week. He has a part-time job selling little boxes of Chicklets gum packs after school and, gosh darn it, it's a real money maker. Wow, are we surprised! He has more money to spend than we do, it's really amazing! But as you know, Butch is a natural salesman with a great personality and wonderful smile. He is saving up to buy a fancy SUV and is on track to earn it in early next year.

By the way, my face lift went so well I've included a photo of how I look now. Don't be jealous, now! All Ralphie can say is "wow, you look like a 25-year-old again." Such a big flirt, eh?

Not everything is picture-perfect though. I want my America back!

I know it's an "Obama-nation" now but enough is enough. We are becoming a socialist nation in the hands of these liberal do-gooding bleeding-hearts! Just when and Ralphie and I are about to start collecting social security and go on medicare (who can afford health insurance - tee hee). Obama and his friends are trying to find new ways into our private lives to tax us. I say just give me my social security check, medicare and medicaid payments and keep big government out of our lives! We wish Ronald Reagan were alive so he could kick the bejabbers out of these do-gooders! Next thing you know, they'll want to take the food stamps away from grandma and grandpa!

That's it for this year! Zip-pee-dee do-dah! Have a happy new decade! Your friends or relatives forever, love you, -- the family.

Leaving the Danger Zone Behind

John and I became friends in the 4th grade of St Matthews Catholic Grammar school in 1955. Our friendship grew because we shared a mutual love of airplanes, of fighter pilots and their stories of derring-do. We often spoke of the magic of manned flight, of the allure of the open sky, or of the types of airplanes we had seen flying in the air space around New York City. Of anything aeronautical. Both of us were hardly daredevil kids, but we shared daredevil dreams of flying P-51 Mustangs of F4U Hellcats. We shared a romance with the wild blue yonder.

In school we drew pictures of aircraft until the nuns slapped our hands. We built plastic WWII model airplanes when we could scrape a little money together, painted them up and admired them. We created airplanes from paper and again, got in trouble with the nuns.

We assembled and flew balsa wood airplanes that cost 10 cents at Herman's Gyp Joint and Sweet Shop. We mended them with tape when they splintered. And sailed and crashed them until they would fly no more. In later years, we flew gas engine aircraft in never ending circles on the end of a tether.

We remained close friends throughout high school and college. The Vietnam war split us up as he joined the Army and I the Air Force. Then marriage came along, kids, and true to our conservative natures, we both found jobs with major insurance companies.

We remained friends for more 50 years. Our lives diverged but always intersected again and again, many times if you don't mind me being redundant. We shared a lifetime of wondrous joys and great sorrows during these years, and always stayed in touch throughout. We could tell you some stories. But long story mercifully shortened, I am happy to say that John did fulfill his childhood dream of flying when he earned a pilot's license. I became an avid birdwatcher.

These last 5 years have not been kind to John, his health failing over that time. He would rally and appear to be headed in he right direction when another health issue would emerge to knock him down again. This last year has been particularly harsh. The last time I spoke with him 3 weeks ago, I noted a resignation in his voice that I had not heard before. He expressed concern for his wonderful wife who supported and endured with him every step of the way. But he was just tired. His decline mercifully ended last week when he passed away.

I think John would enjoy the following video as tribute to our mutual childhood dreams and our life-long friendship. This one's for you, Maverick. You are out of the danger zone now. God speed.

Now for Something Completely Different

Something struck me about this.

faltjahr 2010 from yohann on Vimeo.

The Summer of 65

A long time ago, I met a girl in my high school years who became the object of my first serious crush. Being young and unsure of myself, I let her go without revealing my "true" feelings about her. That's always been a regret. I have never forgotten her and you can imagine that I was very happy to find her somewhat accidentally 35 years later on the internet. A miracle of sorts in itself. We reconnected via email.

Her life and mine has taken many a twist and turn over that time, but I found that we still had much in common after so much time. Somewhat surprising but not really. More than I knew than, we shared a lot in common in that brief time and in our lives to follow.

This story does not end badly where someone falls in love with a 17-year-old who no longer exists and runs off leaving current life and family, I have heard of such stories. There is more than a little something about capturing your youth through your memories of days long gone.

This is a story about realistically connecting to days gone by in a life-enhancing way. She helped me through a very difficult period in my life and helped introduce me to my new life -- a very happy one.

One of my favorite all time songs that bring her to mind whenever I hear it. God bless her and her family and may He keep her in His bosom.


Chad and Jeremy

Little Miracles

Miracles occur every day and all around us. They are so commonplace that I think we don’t even stop to notice them. I recently was inspired to write about a few of those that I have seen in my lifetime because I was motivated by the recent canonization of one Fr. Damien. In doing a little research of the good Father (Joseph de Veuster), I stumbled upon his story and that uncovered another little "miracle" for me. That it took 120 years for the church to recognize this man!

Damien was a Belgian missionary priest who left his homeland forever to minister to the Hawaiian Islands natives. Not bad duty at all. If you are going to save the heathens, then why not save them in a place like Hawaii? This was in 1863. He spent the next 10 years building churches with his own hands and, no doubt, saving scores of pagan babies.

On 10 May, 1873, Father Damien, at his own request, went to Molokai Island where the Government kept segregated all persons afflicted with the loathsome disease of leprosy. There were then 600 lepers. For a long time, Father Damien was the only one to bring them the help they so greatly needed. He not only administered the consolations of religion, but also rendered them such little medical service and bodily comforts as were within his power. He dressed their ulcers, helped them erect their cottages, and went so far as to dig their graves and make their coffins. After twelve years of this heroic service he discovered in himself the first symptoms of the disease. This was in 1885. He nevertheless continued his charitable ministrations, being assisted at this period by two other priests and two lay brothers. On 28 March, 1889, Father Damien became helpless and passed away shortly after, closing his fifteenth year in the service of the lepers.

Damien spent a third of his life with lepers who, prior to his arrival and shunned by society, and lived in miserable conditions. Under his leadership, basic laws were enforced, shacks became painted houses, working farms were organized and schools were erected. At his own request, and that of the lepers, Father Damien remained on Molokai. President Obama recently praised Damien who “gave voice to the voiceless” and dignity to the sick.”

The Catholic Church does nothing quickly or often logically. Damien was sainted over 120 years after his death based on the evidence of two separate events that occured over one hundred years apart and half a world distant. The miracles, in his case, were that two women suffering hideous illnesses would pray to him, a non-sainted priest. One had a horrible intestinal disease and the other was growing fist-sized tumors and had lung cancer. Both were inexplicably cured after interceding with Fr. Damien through prayer. Whether Damien had anything to do with the cures is really irrelevant. I submit that he earned his sainthood here on earth. It's a shame that it takes so long for his church to recognize it as well.

It’s a another miracle in itself that there are people among us like us. Those that give up everything for what appears to be nothing in it for them or worse. Pat Tillman comes to mind. Mother Teresa. Mohandas Ghandi. Jack Bauer. Well, maybe not Jack.

But there are so many more that we never hear of, or hear of just for a moment in time. On January 30, 1994, Aris Espinosa, a 13-year-old boy from Lanao del Norte, Philippines, did something for his friends. A grenade on the ground was about to explode near the children, Aris quickly jumped and covered the grenade with his own body. The children were saved by the courageous and unselfish act.

The American Dream and MSgt Vandy

In early 1969, this was my American Dream come true. My 1966 Mustang Convertible. I was 23 when I bought it. I think I paid $1400 for it. It wasn't new but it was brand new to me!

I thought it was so cool to have a convertible. I fantasized that all the girls would would want to ride in it. That dream abruptly ended as I discovered that although all the girls admired the car, none of them really liked to ride in it when the top was down! Those were the days of the big hair just so.

When I bought the car, I was brand new Air Force Lieutenant stationed in Little Rock, Arkansas. As green as could be. Lucky for me, wise old Master Sergeant Vandy took me under his wing and went car shopping with me. Back in the day, wise veteran sergeants often took us wet-behind-the-ears under their wings. And so it was with Vandy and me. Long story shortened, Vandy saved me from the Arkansas car salesmen more than once, and I ended up with a fair deal on the Mustang I wanted. I hope he is well and resting peacefully somewhere.

So, when my 23-year-old daughter was shopping for her first car purchase, and in the spirit of Sgt Vandy, my wife and I went with her. Not really expecting any shenanigans in this day and age, we went as interested observers rather than guardian angels.

It turned out that our attendance didn’t stop the dealership from employing some pretty slimy sales maneuvers, resulting in somewhat of a scene at the end of a long evening. In a carefully constructed sales practice, they did not disclose the true cost of the car behind the monthly payments numbers they presented.

When we pressed for more detail at total price at any point, the salesman was evasive, kept going back to the "monthly payment." Even when negotiating the price down, they would simply come back with a lower monthly payment-- not a new bottom line. After a couple of hours, we all agreed on a price. But as it turned out, not the same price.

This only became obvious when we finally saw the written contract. And it was the last document shown to us, after many other documents were presented. The total was almost $4,000 more than what we thought we were paying!

In the spirit of the old Sarge, my wife and I stepped up to the plate. Before we were done that evening, we had raised quite a ruckus, attracting the attention of several members of the dealership team. The price was readjusted and they made concessions. At one point both Rita and I told them the deal was dead and we were leaving. It was then that Meredith interceded for "private family moment." She really liked the car and wanted it. She could more than afford the monthly payment. So we settled on it to close the deal.

There was one special moment during that evening. At one point, I thought the deal was solid and announced I was going to go on home while the girls finished the final paperwork. The salesman gave me a look that told me I ought to stay for the entire negotiation. I look back at that as a "Vandy" moment and the "tell" that maybe this deal wasn't done. Tired as we were, we stayed.

I sincerely thanked the salesman as we were leaving for that moment, although he played his part well in the sales process, including "mis-remembering" some of the things he told us.

Is there a point to this story? Maybe two points. Although things have changed so much in the past 40 years, the art of the sale has not. Let the buyer always be aware. Be Vandy for your young adult children when they make major life choices.

And secondly, there is a bit of the spirit of Sergeant Vandy in all of us, even in the well-practiced salesman who tipped us off to stay -- even though it almost cost him the deal.