Anniversary's Over, Now Back to the News

Almost a week since my last post, not that there weren’t things to write about but I chose to take some quality time to enjoy a long family weekend celebration of Gilda’s and my 40th wedding anniversary which officially was Monday. This last year of our four decades together has been quite eventful—Ellie married Donny, and Donny started a new job; Dan and Allison produced their second child, Dagny, they moved into a new home and Allison started working outside the home again, as a kindergarten teacher in a town near their new residence; Gilda’s spine surgery medical practice shifted to a new hospital, Mount Sinai Medical Center in Manhattan; and I earned my real estate salesperson license. Lots of good things to be thankful for. 

The festivities over, time for some thoughts on current events ...

As the national debate on immigration reform is propelled forward by pronouncements from President Obama and a plan from a bi-partisan group of senators, I’m reminded of a Forseter family story of illegal entry into the United States by one of our cousins (for the record, my mother beat the quota in 1921 when she came from Poland, while my father arrived in 1939 from Poland, half a year before the start of World War II).

My father’s cousin Jack Fürsetzer snuck into New York in the early 1920’s, I believe. Hearing that a roundup of suspected illegal immigrants was about to happen, he asked around for a good place to hide. He was told Minnesota, so off he went to the hinterlands, settling in the Twin Cities area. He changed his name to Brushman. In the 1930s there was an amnesty for illegals, which explains why some of his six children have his assumed last name and some have his real last name. 

About 20 years ago I met with my cousins during one of my trips to Minneapolis, but sadly I did not keep up contact. ...

Immigration is but one of the hot topics being debated these days. Since the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School, gun control has been topic one. Sadly, during a forum last night in Hartford, pro-gun advocates heckled the father of one of the young victims as he called for stricter gun control measures. 

Even if tighter laws on guns, especially on assault rifles, are passed, the chances of a meaningful reduction in deadly firearms availability is unlikely. As Dave Ross explained in a recent commentary I heard on CBS Radio, gun runners are already passing along ideas on how to get around any potential ban. Read his short commentary: http://mynorthwest.com/813/2184540/Just-calmly-getting-ready ...

Less than a week to go before the Super Bowl, a time to ponder why we are so enthralled with watching athletes, from high school age through their late 30s, abuse their bodies in pursuit of glory and, at least on the professional level, financial gain, however fleeting that might be. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy watching my New York Giants as much as any fan relishes rooting on his or her preferred team. I will watch some pro games in which I have no rooting interest, mostly out of curiosity or lack of anything better to do. After all, I do want to be able to be up to date on trending sports news and conversation, even if I don’t have a water cooler to hang around at work. But given repeated revelations about the medical complications football bequeaths its behemoths, don’t you wonder why so many parents permit, nay even encourage, their children to take up a sport that will torment them for life, or possibly even lead to their suicide?

The other day, president Barack Obama indicated if he had a son he might not let him play football. It’s a sentiment expressed increasingly by many parents, including sportscaster Michael Kay on ESPN Radio. Kay and his wife recently celebrated the birth of their first child, a daughter. I remember when Dan was a tween and interested in catching a football in our yard, Gilda let him know in no uncertain terms he would not be permitted to play organized football. He pouted for a while, but soon got over it. 

He played soccer, instead. Goalie. During one game he blocked a hard, close-in shot with his head. Down he went. The game stopped as the referee and coaches tended to him. On the sidelines, Gilda had to be restrained from rushing out onto the field. In her frustration she asked, “What type of game is this where a mother can’t go out to her injured son?” Dan quickly recovered and finished the game, but Gilda rarely went to see him play soccer again. She did, however, enjoy watching him play Ultimate Frisbee. ...  

Want to be truly scared? I’m not talking some creepy Nightmare on Elm Street/Freddy Kruger horror flick. I’m talking real world, red and blue state election results. 

While Democrats savor Barack Obama’s second term, and his progressive inaugural address, there’s mayhem underfoot, as Republicans wax up their plans to put the skids on any future possibility of a Democratic president. In states where Republicans control the legislature and the governorship they are exploring changes in the way Electoral College votes are allocated. Here are two links worth taking the time to explore. Unless you’re a bedrock conservative, they'll have you quaking in your boots:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/01/24/republican-vote-rigging-electoral-college_n_2546010.htmlutm_source=DailyBrief&utm_campaign=012513&utm_medium=email&utm_content=FeatureTitle&utm_term=Daily%20Brief

http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/423163/january-23-2013/alpha-dog-of-the-week---virginia-state-senate-republicans?xrs=share_copy

Waiting for Sandy

Waiting for Hurricane Sandy to make landfall in Westchester County, I am troubled by thoughts I have not done enough to prepare. Gilda and I have gone round and round about the wisdom and efficacy of buying a portable gasoline powered generator (our subdivision is not serviced by natural gas so we can’t get a backup whole house generator). Walking through the Christmas Tree Shop on Friday I was tempted to make an impulse purchase of a 3,500 watt generator for $299, but Gilda talked me out of it when I called her. Over 28 years we’ve never had a power outage, though we have come close. Several years ago a tree fell across our cul-de-sac street, land-locking us for a day. How it didn’t sever any power lines is beyond me. I’m worried our good fortune will run out.

Anyway, the real danger should we lose electricity is the loss of sump pump power. Our basement would flood quickly as we are the lowest house in our development situated over a high water table. Our sump pump has an emergency backup battery. If we do lose power I hope it’s not longer than the life span of the battery.

I’m not a Chris Christie fan but watching the New Jersey governor’s press conference on Hurricane Sandy preparations I was impressed by his beefy determination to be ahead of events. His non-nonsense stance epitomized New Jersey’s tough-minded attitude. Also worth noting that Christie said President Obama called him to assess the state’s readiness and its working relationship with FEMA. Nice to see Obama acting proactively and Christie giving props to a Democrat.

Lots of people and organizations giving tips on how to prepare for the coming deluge. I ignored most of the suggestions but for some reason decided storing water in buckets and even a bathtub was a good idea. 

Dan, Allison, Finley and Dagny are stranded in Sarasota, Fla. Dan’s ultimate frisbee team, Boston Ironside, was playing in the national championship tournament. They’ve finished second three out of the last four years. They came into the tourney rated number one in the country, but lost in the semi-finals Saturday to a team from Texas, Doublewide, which wound up winning the title Sunday afternoon. Small compensation was the NY Giants’ thrilling, nail-biting, clinging victory over the Dallas Cowboys early Sunday evening. Dan’s family can’t get out of Florida until Tuesday at the earliest. My brother, as well, is stuck on the east coast of Florida. 

Ultimate Weekend

I’m no longer Gee-Kaw.

As Finley’s speech has improved he’s getting closer to saying grandpa. For now I’m Pan-Paw. Perhaps by his second birthday in a little over two weeks I’ll officially be transitioned over to grandpa, but I’m not too sure I like the generic name. Perhaps when he gets a little bit older and can understand the concept of individual names we’ll decide to revert back to Gee-Kaw or some other special moniker. Gilda is still Gee-Gee.

I spent an ultimate weekend with Finely and Co. (his parents) in Sarasota, Fla., this past Thursday through Sunday at the USA Ultimate (Frisbee) Club Championships. For the second straight year Dan’s team, Boston Ironside, matched its undefeated tournament record against San Francisco’s undefeated Revolver. Sadly, the results repeated, as Ironside lost by an identical 15-10 score.

As I wrote last year, it’s almost harder on the friends and family of team members as we anxiously sweat out each game and the night before the championship game. We’re powerless to do anything but provide moral support, before, during and after. For Dan, and just a handful of others on the 27-man Ironside squad, this was the third time in the last four years Ironside lost in the finals. Second place in the country is no small honor, but never having tasted the Champagne of ultimate success is a bummer.

Ultimate Frisbee at the club level is a young man’s sport. At 33, Dan is the elder statesman on the team. How much longer he’ll be able to play is a question of his body and competitive spirit holding out, the number of new players challenging veterans for spots on the roster, and most importantly, the commitment Allison is willing to make to allow Dan to pursue his goal of a championship. Dan, as well, knows his obligations to Allison and Finley restrict the time he can devote to Ultimate. Aside from playing, Dan also coaches the Tufts University team.

As for me, being with Finley and his girl friend Eliot, daughter of team coach Josh and his wife Sangwa, was special. Regretably, Gilda couldn’t get away from work, so I played grandparent to both of them by myself, even babysitting one evening while both sets of parents attended a team dinner. Testing my mettle, both kids pooped, but they made up for it by going to bed exactly at 8 with nary a whimper.

Miss Congeniality

Well, Boston ironside brought home the Miss Congeniality Award, otherwise known as the Team Spirit Award, at the U.S. Ultimate Frisbee National Open Championships in Sarasota, Fla., this past weekend. Dan’s team, Ironside, lost its only game of the tournament in the finals to Revolver from San Francisco.

Ironside had been seeded number one, with high expectations considering it had not lost any tournaments this season and had twice defeated Revolver in Seattle. But at this level of post-college club competition, there’s only a slight degree of difference between elite teams. Ironside did not bring its A game to the playing field Sunday. Revolver did. Ironside literally threw away too many opportunities while Revolver seemed to run faster, jump higher and focus more. Revolver won 15-10.

Gilda and I made the trip down to Nationals to cheer Dan and his team on and help Allison with Finley, who, like his one-year-old girlfriend Eliot, showed up for the finals with a temporary tattoo of Old Ironsides across his tummy.

I’m not ashamed to say, I was nervous and anxious throughout the tournament. Gilda doesn’t quite get how a fan, and in this case a proud father, sweats out every point, engages in superstitious, patterned behavior and gets that queasy feeling in the stomach before every game. I get the same way before any of Ellie’s singing performances. But those are usually one shot affairs. This was a four day ordeal, eight matches in all.

Watching these young men compete, I was struck by the realization that players of a similar age are currently engaged in the World Series. Ultimate players get no financial reward. They mostly play a self-policed game (“observers” monitor the contests, adjudicating controversies that cannot be resolved by the teams). They travel the country on their own dime. They are part of a fraternity that is now international (fyi—Revolver won the world title last July in Prague; Ironside came in fifth).

Sunday’s final was the first time two undefeated teams met for the title. Revolver played like giants. For the second time in three years, Ironside came up short in the championship game.

You never stop being a parent. You never stop wanting your child to succeed, to attain whatever pinnacle he or she strives to mount. But you’re unable to help beyond being supportive, before, during and after the event. It’s disappointment different than the participant’s, but no less palpable. It’s an ache inside you because your child is hurting and nothing you could have done could have prevented that hurt. He’s a grown man, with a wife and child of his own. But he’s still my son, and I see him through the years, learning to throw, catch, kick and hit a ball, ride a bike, swim a lap, throw a frisbee.

Frisbee is a young man’s sport (though there is a Masters division for those 33 and older). Dan will turn 33 just before next year’s Nationals. Age, competition from younger legs trying out for the team, and the pull from his own family obligations are working against him. Yet I know his willpower is strong, his determination unbent, his commitment unyielding. Just as Revolver won its third matchup with Ironside, perhaps a third visit to the championship game next year will be the ultimate finale for Ironside and for Dan.

A Day of Remembrances

Today’s the anniversary of the perfection of the carbonized cotton filament incandescent light bulb by Thomas Alva Edison in 1879. His light bulb lasted for 13-1/2 hours of continuous running time.

There’s no record of when a father first shouted in frustration to his children, “Shut the lights out when you’re not in the room. Do you think I’m made of money?” Mothers were more sarcastic in their reprimands, demanding to know if the children thought the family had a money tree growing in the garden.

At least that’s the way it was growing up in my household.


Ordinarily, I’d look with slight interest at an article in today’s NY Times about efforts by the Guggenheim Museum to build a permanent food kiosk outside its entrance on Fifth Avenue and E. 89th St. The request, incidentally, was rejected by the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/21/arts/design/21hotdog.html?scp=2&sq=guggenheim&st=cse).

By serendipitous coincidence I discovered before I perused The Times this morning that today is the anniversary of the opening of the Guggenheim at its current location. Designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, the museum opened in 1959.


Today’s another anniversary, at least according to the Gregorian calendar. On this day in 1492, Christopher Columbus discovered the New World. He landed on San Salvador Island. We, of course, celebrate October 12 as Columbus Day because the Admiral, as he later came to be called, sailed under the Julian calendar. Ninety years later, in 1582, Pope Gregory XIII promulgated his version of the daily grind, eventually adopted by most cultures, even ones not disposed to Catholic doctrine.


I mentioned yesterday our son Dan will be competing in the North American ultimate frisbee championship tournament next week. His team is Boston Ironside. Turns out today marks the anniversary of the 1797 launching of the USS Constitution in Boston harbor. The frigate earned the nickname Old Ironsides during the War of 1812. A good omen, I hope.


My sister advises I write too much about sports, especially baseball. Perhaps. If she was annoyed by yesterday’s homage to Bob Sheppard and Mickey Mantle, she probably won’t like to know that today is the 82nd birthday of Whitey Ford, one of the all-time great Yankee pitchers.


Today also is Gilda’s sister’s birthday. I won’t tell you how old Barbara is.

Birthday Bash

The NY Yankees handed out some birthday presents today.

In bashing the Texas Rangers 7-2 to avoid an embarrassing elimination game at Yankee Stadium, the Bronx Bombers honored two of their greats.

October 20 would have been the 100th birthday of Bob Sheppard, the longtime public address announcer at the Stadium whose stentorian voice can still be heard introducing Derek Jeter every time he comes to the plate during home games. Sheppard died July 11.

October 20 would have been the 79th birthday of Mickey Mantle. The Mick died August 13, 1995. Mantle’s legacy always shines bright with Yankee fans and is enjoying a current spotlight because of a new biography by Jane Leavy, The Last Boy: Mickey Mantle and the End of America's Childhood.

October 20 also is the birthday of Daniel Alexander Forseter. The 32-year-old ultimate frisbee player (his team came in 5th in the world last summer and will be competing for the North American championship next week) is a big Yankee fan (as is his wife, Allison). He has remained a loyal pinstripe fan even after living for the last 13 years in the heart of Red Sox nation. Perhaps it’s because he was born in 1978, a magical year for the Yanks who came back from 14 games behind the Red Sox to force a one game playoff which they won, in Boston, on Bucky Dent’s dramatic three run homer. They then defeated the Los Angeles Dodgers for the second straight year in the World Series in six games. Dan was born three days later.

Muddled Joy in Mudville

Or in this case, Prague.

It took another U.S. Team, Sockeye from Seattle, to finally hand Dan’s team, Ironside, a defeat in the World Ultimate Frisbee Championships. In quarterfinals play. In overtime. 17-15.

Sockeye will play for the championship against another U.S. team, Revolver, on Saturday.

Meanwhile, Ironside won its next two games to finish fifth in the world.

Hard to be sad when you can say your son plays on the fifth-ranked Ultimate Frisbee team in the world. But I know how disappointed Dan must feel considering the OT loss to Sockeye. Close losses always are harder to get over than blowouts.

Needless to say, Gilda and I are very proud of Dan and his teammates.

Games, Songs, Films and Sales

World Cup Update: No, not the soccer, er, football, matches in South Africa. I’m talking Ultimate Frisbee Club Championships in Prague! Dan’s team, Ironside, is one of five representing the U.S. at the quadrennial competition featuring 48 squads from 29 countries in the Open Club division (overall, there are 136 teams from 37 countries participating in four classes: Open, Women’s, Mixed, and Masters).

Five of the top six Open teams are from the United States. Ironside is seeded fourth in the world, behind two U.S. teams and one from Japan. In the preliminary round, Ironside has vanquished its three opponents, teams from France, Germany and Slovakia. Tuesday’s foes include a team from Great Britain and another from Germany, on Wednesday it will be Australia and Finland, followed by another team from Down Under on Thursday.

Keep checking for updates, or, if you’re really into Ultimate, here’s the web site: http://wucc2010.com/node.


Felipe Melo, I feel your pain: For those who don’t know who Felipe Melo is, he’s a star midfielder on the Brazilian World Cup soccer team who accidentally headed a ball into his own net in a loss to The Netherlands last Friday. Although upon further review the benevolent soccer gods credited a Dutchman with the goal, Melo and everyone else in Brazil and around the world know his mistake in letting a shot glance off his head cost his team a goal. When you lose 2-1, that really hurts.

I made the same mistake when playing intramural soccer back in college, but in a much more lopsided loss (http://nosocksneededanymore.blogspot.com/2010/06/goooooooooooooooooallllllllll.html). Felipe, don’t worry, you get over it in, say, 30-40 years. At least that’s the time span for intramural play. Heaven knows what the recuperatory period is for World Cup f---ups!


Born in the USA: Gilda and I went to the White Plains fireworks extravaganza at the high school last Thursday. A local band did a lot of covers of Bruce Springsteen songs, capping their performance with "Born in the USA" as the fireworks started exploding. This anthem to working class values and a search for connection to the government and family pulsates with the title refrain. It’s transcended any meaning Springsteen might have had for the song into a form of national anthem.

I couldn’t stop wondering as "Born in the USA" reverberated in my ears—what does it say about immigration policy? Is only someone “born in the USA” kosher, capable of feeling the patriotism devotees of the song have adopted? I can’t believe Springsteen would want his song co-opted by anyone who believes, as they do in Arizona, that illegal immigrants are deliberately causing crashes on state highways; that they are beheading people and leaving corpses in the desert; and that they are all “mules” carrying illegal drugs across the border.

I am glad, I am blessed, that I and the rest of my family were born in the USA, that my parents were allowed to emigrate here. “Born in the USA” should be a mindset, not a requirement for citizenship. It should be a reminder that we are a nation of immigrants, that tolerance has distinguished our country from all others.


Prescient Quote: Flipping through TV channels a week ago I stopped momentarily on the movie The Wind and the Lion. It’s a rousing tale based on a true incident in 1904 when Berber chieftain Mulai Ahmed er Raisuli (the lion) kidnaps an American and President Teddy Roosevelt (the wind) sends a rescue mission to Morocco. In real life, Raisuli took a man and his son into custody. For the Hollywood version, Raisuli, played by Sean Connery, kidnapped Eden Perdicaris (Candice Bergen) and her two children.

During the course of the film, Raisuli and Perdicaris develop an understanding relationship. But it starts out, as might be expected, rather strained. Riasuli, after all, did kidnap her and her children, in the process killing many of her servants and a guest while trashing her home. Moreover, at their first stop after fleeing the city, a well owned by Raisuli, he summarily executes two of four men who drew water without his permission.

In explaining his actions, Raisuli says, “You see the man at the well (one of his loyal band). When one bucket empties, the other fills. It is so with the world. At present, you (meaning the Western countries) are full of power, but you are spilling it wastefully and Islam is lapping up the drops as they spill from your bucket.”

Hearing that matter-of-fact explanation of global transformation curdled my brain. How easily the dialogue could have come from Osama bin Laden. How prescient of the screenwriters. Keep in mind, The Wind and the Lion came out in 1975!


I brake for...tag sales. I am regressing, going back to the years when our children were young and we stocked their playpens with cheap finds at garage sales. The fountain of youth is a grandchild, at least as far as backyard commerce goes.

This past weekend I scored major finds, several Fisher Price/Sesame Street trucks, a Play and Speak animal sounds toy, plus a riding front loader, all for just $5. Also, a huge wooden pick-up truck for $3. I was in a feeding frenzy. I would have bought more, but calmer minds (Gilda, in other words) prevailed.

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOALLLLLLLLLL

To some degree, to a very small degree, I know how Robert Green feels. He’s the goalkeeper of England’s World Cup soccer team who muffed a seemingly easy save, allowing the United States to secure a 1-1 tie in their first round match on Saturday.

I never played goalie, but in college I headed a ball past a keeper. Too bad he was protecting my team’s net. Ouch. Had it been the deciding goal in the intramural game, I would possibly be scarred for life. But my Brooklyn College house plan (like a fraternity but without national affiliation or dormitory privileges) had already given up too many scores to win the game when a high kick came soaring towards our goal. Playing fullback, one of the defensemen, I retreated towards the net, positioning myself where I thought the ball would land. I miscalculated. Instead of hitting my head square, the ball skidded off the back of my crown. Right past our goalie. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOALLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!

I never really liked soccer. Like most yuppie parents I brought our son Dan to soccer tryouts when he turned 7. Dan really wasn’t too enthusiastic a player back then, even when he “made” our city’s traveling all-star team two years later. Everyone “made” the team. The better players went onto the A team. Dan was placed on the B team. He played fullback, like his dad, only Dan turned out to be the politest of defenders. If a ball rolled between him and an opponent, Dan exhibited his own brand of sportsmanship by not interfering with that player’s forward motion. It was frustrating to watch, especially since schlepping him to practices was quite inconvenient. On a positive note, Dan was no worse a player than most of the others on the team.

Early October 1987 proved to be pivotal in Dan’s athletic development. His team was playing a four-game weekend tournament in Yonkers. It was a pitiful showing, made all the more gloomy by torrential rains (unlike baseball, soccer is played in the rain). His team lost the first game something like 11-3, the second game 10-2, the third game 13-4. As he waited to play the final game, Dan asked me if he could be goalie. I told him to ask the coach, who quickly said, no, he was still trying to evaluate the team’s goalie. Near the end of a 10-0 rout, the coach relented and allowed Dan to play the last five minutes in goal. Now, with no one except himself as the last line of defense, something inside Dan clicked. He attacked the forwards charging at him. He dove in the mud to make saves. The coach took notice. From that mucky, yucky finish, Dan became the team’s starting goalie, a position he didn’t relinquish even after elevation to the A team and through high school varsity.

I loved watching Dan in goal. He was decisive. Athletic. Demanding of himself and his teammates. He played hurt. One tournament he played four games before the coach realized he had fractured his wrist. White Plains won all four of those games.

I didn’t get to see any of Dan’s high school varsity games because of work. So I made a point of getting to the state sectional match against Mamaroneck in Dan’s senior year. I arrived at Mamaroneck’s field during half-time of a 0-0 game, found a seat in the bleachers and waited for the teams to emerge. Dan didn’t come out. Someone else was in goal. Turns out, Dan had injured his leg thwarting a breakaway. My disappointment, as well as Dan’s, was made even more palpable by a 1-0 overtime loss.

To my knowledge, that was the last organized soccer game Dan played. He shifted his athletic allegiance to Ultimate Frisbee, first at college and then at the club level (http://nosocksneededanymore.blogspot.com/2010/02/ultimate-serendipity.html). In a little less than three weeks his Boston-based frisbee team will travel to Prague to compete in the world championships. The tournament won’t get the same international attention the World Cup is generating from South Africa, except, that is, among Ultimate’s fanatical base of players and supporters.