It’s too late to affect this year’s ranking on the Social Progress Index, released Thursday by the Social Progress Imperative, but if the United States wants to improve upon its embarrassing 16th place finish, just ahead of Belgium, Slovenia and Estonia, we have to change the name of our country to something like Ameriland or Unitedland.
Why? Because the top four countries incorporate “land” in their names—New Zealand, Switzerland, Iceland and Netherlands. Even Ireland finished ahead of us, in 15th place out of the 132 nations rated in the Social Progress Index. Only Poland (32) and Swaziland (108) failed to capitalize on having “land” in their name.
I will refrain from making any snide comments about America’s less than stellar scores in areas such as health and wellness, plus tolerance and inclusion. You can review the entire list by clicking on this link: http://s3.documentcloud.org/documents/1102138/social-progress-index-results-heat-map.pdf
Signing Off: With my illegible scrawl of a signature I could have been a modern day ballplayer, according to an article in The NY Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2014/03/29/sports/baseball/in-an-era-of-squiggles-you-cant-tell-baseball-the-players-without-a-handwriting-analyst.html?_r=0). Of course, to get to the major leagues I might have had to upgrade my skills a little (okay, a lot). But I definitely would have made the first string when it came to passing out indecipherable signed baseballs.
I recently looked at my Social Security card, issued when I was 12 or so. Each letter in my signature is carefully drawn. Today, you could barely make out the “M” in my first name. After that it’s a swirl ending with a flourish.
The major league baseball season has begun. The temple league softball season starts April 13, but I think I will mostly observe the games in my second retirement from the diamond, unless my team is in dire straits of needing a pitcher at the last moment. I’d rather spend time in bed Sunday mornings than kick-starting my aching back out of bed at 7:20.
LSMFT: When I was growing up, LSMFT was an acronym everyone recognized—Lucky Strike Means Fine Tobacco. Lucky Strike sponsored Your Hit Parade, weekly viewing in the Forseter household. I don’t recall whether Your Hit Parade got cancelled before or after cigarette advertising was banned from the airwaves, but LSMFT vanished from my and most everyone else’s consciousness.
Until now. I keep hearing those initials, followed by the word “productions,” broadcast on public radio. So I went on its Web site and became more confused. Under LSMFT Productions, LTD, the tagline says, “Staging powerful and provocative New York Theater since 1997.”
Okay, but two paragraphs later it says, “LSMFT Productions was conceived in 2008, as a non-profit organization by Artistic Director and Producer Leo Farley.” So which is it, 1997 or 2008? It’s all very confusing.
Dancing Away: Roseland, the iconic ballroom dance hall just north of Times Square, will close April 7 after entertaining New Yorkers and other hoofers since 1919, the last 58 years at its current location on Broadway at 52nd Street.
I never made it inside Roseland, but Gilda’s mother did. As a young widow with three children, Rose Barasch often went to dances at Roseland. It was there she met Gus Angelo, her second husband who could assuredly be described as the true love of her life.
Gus epitomized a “salt of the earth” person. Rarely, if ever, did I see him without a smile on his face. Rose was not a good cook, but he ate her food with gusto, without complaint. He taught Rose to drive when she was in her late 50s. He took her for a lesson one Sunday to the E.J. Korvette’s parking lot off Bay Parkway in Brooklyn. This was before Sunday Blue Laws had been lifted, so the lot was empty except for a solitary police car. A solitary, stationary police car. Which Rose promptly drove Gus’ car into.
Getting back to Roseland, dancing must have been in Rose’s blood. With boyfriend Moishe, Rose’s mother would dance into her 90s, winning competitions in senior centers. They were a spry, diminutive couple, resembling Hummel figurines as they waltzed across the dance floor.
Gilda likes to dance, though not with the same passion as her mother and grandmother. But she does enjoy Dancing with the Stars. Does that count?
