RICKSTER IS THE COLUMNIST FOR THE WEEKLY PUBLICATION, "THE SOMERS RECORD"

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Friday, January 26, 2018

FOOTBALL IS IN THE AIR

SPECIAL TO THE SOMERS RECORD (10-12-17)

     One thing I like about living in the Northeast is the change of seasons. You have baseball season, basketball season, tennis season and, if things get a little too quiet around the house, football season. I've already had "The Talk" with all the pets: Sunday afternoons are going to get a little difficult for the next 16 weeks, and if there is a lot of yelling and a wee bit of violence, it is not necessarily directed towards you.

     Things have changed since I first became a football fan. There is currently a lot more concern for the physical well-being of the players than there used to be. This is possibly directly proportional to how much money a team has invested in them. In the old days, after a violent tackle a player was shown down on the ground with a pulse that you could barely waltz to, and the announcer would say that he was "shaken up," as if he was a frozen margarita. It didn't matter if the guy was dropping body parts like a '57 Chevy, they always said he was "shaken up."

     Now there are concussion protocols, a series of medical tests the player must pass before being allowed to continue in the event of a blow to the head. In the '70s sometimes a player got hit hard, and his helmet went flying ten yards down the field. If his head was still in it, he was taken off the field in an embarrassing golf cart shaped like a football helmet. If not, he was asked what two plus two was. If he didn't know, it was assumed that everything was normal and he was pointed back in the general direction of the huddle.

     Another thing I never thought I'd see was a football game airing on Amazon. I remember the days when your cable might be on the fritz and you could go down to the appliance store and catch the game on 20 television sets. You could watch someone intercept a Giants pass 20 times, 40 if they showed a replay. This year on Amazon I saw the Packers beat the Bears 35 to 7. The game was so bad that afterward I immediately upgraded to Amazon Prime, hoping for something better next week.

     A phenomenon called fantasy football has people rooting for teams they would never care about if money were not involved. They pore over stats, records and probably court documents to prepare their line-ups. As far as I'm concerned there is enough misery on my own team to last me for an entire week. And I may be a fantasy purist, but if I'm going to assemble a fantasy line-up I doubt that any football players will be on it.

     Something else I'm not used to is watching American football being played in other countries. I'm going to have to learn a whole new lexicon of curse words in foreign languages, which may actually come in handy on the subway. There was a game this year played in London, for example, and I couldn't understand a word anyone was saying.

     In other ways not much has changed. Last week the Chiefs defeated the Redskins, same as they did in 1467. Also, I still throw the same things at the TV as I watch the Giants game. I start with any food in the area, dinner rolls are optimal, and when I run out of those I might lob a rolled up newspaper or a Kleenex box.
     And my dog still has to dodge out of the way. I believe that dogs are smarter than we think they are, and when my dog sees me throwing my slippers as hard as I can at the TV I know what he's thinking: "Humans are definitely not as smart as they think they are. Do they REALLY believe that you can run on first down EVERY SINGLE TIME with NO blocking?"

Friday, January 19, 2018

PRINCE ALBERT IN A CAN

SPECIAL TO THE SOMERS RECORD (10-05-17)

     Last Saturday something weird happened at my house: the doorbell rang. We have a very polite doorbell that doesn't like to intrude. When depressed, it whispers, "Excuse me, I hate to make a fuss, but ding-dong, if you don't mind me saying so." My wife and I looked at each other as if to say, "Did you hear something?" and "Not really." Then we both looked at the dog, who only responds to doorbells that are rung on television, and her look said, "Me neither, but I think your doorbell is
depressed." So I didn't think anything of it, which is my usual thought pattern.

     But our doorbell rings so seldom at our house that it got my attention, even though I didn't hear it. This occurred in the evening, so I knew it was not the Jehovah's Witnesses. I'm not religious in any way, except on days that I could possibly finagle a day off from work because of a religious holiday. And if I see a Jehovah's Witness by the front door I hide under the couch, unless I am subpoenaed.

     But I thought I should take a look outside to make sure that I wasn't not hearing things. I took my dog with me, just in case. She is an attack dog, if you are a burglar that happens to be shaped like a rasher of bacon. She has the menacing features of a hand muff with a pointy nose and a tail. She has a strong motto, like the Marines. Her motto is, "if you can't lick 'em, then what good are they?" But we did a quick patrol of our property out of an over-abundance of caution, and an under-abundance of common sense. We quickly established a perimeter and my dog licked me, unwittingly providing me with a DNA sample. I thought I heard something in the bushes, but it turned out to be a squirrel. I reported back to my wife that we had a possible squirrel who possibly rang our doorbell type-of-situation.

     Some minutes later we left to go out to dinner, and down our street at the lights of the car a group of pre-teens scattered like leaves. I realized that they were either very short census takers or kids on a doorbell-ringing campaign. I got out of the car and yelled after them to keep running because we had called the cops.

     In reality, although I am not in favor of people coming to our home and causing undue stress to our alarm system, I was secretly impressed that these kids would actually leave their house and DO something, instead of just hanging around playing video games by themselves. There has been so much change in the world that it was oddly comforting to know that after all these years, kids could still go around ringing doorbells and get the same charge out of it as they did in the 1950s.

     Maybe somebody will call me on the phone and say, "Do you have Prince Albert in a can? Well, you'd better let him out!" Maybe they'll call and say, "Is your refrigerator running? Well, you'd better go catch it!" Maybe they'll call and ask if I am Amada Hugenkiss.

     Everyone who has had a childhood has known mischief. In my case we were on a first name basis. I certainly admit to my share of tomfoolery, shenanigans and monkeyshines, but I am proud to say that I never engaged in any hijinks, or worse, nutty hijinks. I spent some time in the principal's office at school, which I must say had much more comfortable furniture. I remember thinking that if anything, the principal should get detention, since he spent even more time in the principal's office than I did.

     So kids, if you're out there, we don't have Prince Albert in a can, our refrigerator is running, and I am NOT Amanda Huggenkiss, unless you take me to dinner first. And don't ring our doorbell, especially if you are shaped like a rasher of bacon.

Friday, January 12, 2018

FINAL TOUR OF THE GOLDEN SHORE

SPECIAL TO THE SOMERS RECORD (09-28-17)

     We spent last weekend in the Hamptons with our friends Laurie and Mark. It was our last hurrah for the summer before we fold up our folding chairs for good. The weather was so nice I actually said "hurrah" several times, and when I said it the last time I knew summer was over.

     I always come back from the Hamptons reeking of suntan lotion and over-privilege. I feel a little guilty that I'm having such a nice time while there are so many bad things going on in the world, and I make a mental note to look into adopting some children from a country whose name I can't pronounce, like Angelina Jolie. Then I consider the child's feelings, and I realize it's a bad idea. But I think me and Angie (I call her Angie) would make great parents together. We hand the kid some brochures to pick out a private school to go to, while we argue about who's hair is better (she's entitled to her opinion). Gotta go now, we're on our way to walk the red carpet for yet ANOTHER award for our mantelpiece: Columnist of the Year!

     On our way to the beach I'm checking out the homes along the way, which are so large that my entire house could fit into the wine cellar. That might be a slight exaggeration, but if not it would save us a trip to the liquor store. Everyone has a rich neighbor it seems, although no one will admit to being rich themselves. I can only clearly identify those who are NOT rich, though I have a few things percolating over in Nigeria that I'm hopeful about.\

     I keep my eyes out for celebrities, who stand out like a sore thumb wearing sunglasses and a really ugly hat. WOW is that hedge fund manager Phil Falcone??? Everyone has a hedge out here so he must be literally raking it in, with an actual rake. False alarm, it wasn't him, it was only one of the Baldwin brothers.

     We get out to the beach and the water was so choppy because there was a hurricane out there somewhere. Even though it was sunny and didn't look like anything was going on, there was a tragedy at the beach. So this seems like a good time to remind people that if you do get sucked away from the beach by an undertow, don't try to fight your way back in. Just keep swimming parallel to the shore until you are out of the current. I went over it with my wife just in case, and she said, "You know what's parallel to the shore during a hurricane? Route 27."

     This time of year the temperature drops about ten degrees each time the sun goes behind a cloud, so you have to keep a sweatshirt handy. But I have a solid and loyal base tan, and I don't want to do anything that won't appeal to my base. I ventured into the water on the bay side, and it's bad form to make a fuss about how cold the water is. "Wow it's SO refreshing!" I exult. "You've been in there a long time!" They reply. Yes, I'm actually looking for one of my fingers which froze and broke off.

     There was a guy with a metal detector at the beach, but this time the guy was actually in the water dredging around, which I never saw before. I wonder what kind of riches he was after in there- who knows, maybe the goldfish in Westhampton really are made of gold. If he's looking for a silverfish I saw one in my garage. I told him if he finds my finger to let me know, because I'm planning to give it to the next guy who cuts me off on the LIE on the way home.

Friday, January 5, 2018

MINDING OUR OWN BUSINESSES

SPECIAL TO THE SOMERS RECORD (09-21-17)

     Somers Celebration Day was held by the Chamber of Commerce last Saturday at the Towne Center, right in middle of towne. It was a chance for local businesses to set up a booth, interact with people and present their goods, or their services if they didn't have anything good. It was a beautiful, sunny day, and I brought my dog, the world-famous Gidget, to stroll the festivities.

     Walking with Gidget is a time-consuming affair, because people love to stop and chat with her. She looks like a stuffed animal, and god only knows what she stuffed herself with when I wasn't looking- I happen to be missing a pair of socks. Moms with their kids approached one after the other to say hello. "Aren't you cute! And so friendly! Gorgeous!" They say it in our general direction, and some of the compliments miss Gidget and fall near me, so I scoop them up quickly, but I'm sick of being ignored. "She sheds, you know." I point out. "And she has a hairy back." They ignore me and exchange phone numbers with Gidget.

     But we're here to celebrate Somers. The first thing we came to was a zeppole food truck, which was a good reason to celebrate. It also told me we were working in reverse alphabetical order, so I was going to have to walk to the other side if I wanted Asian food.

     There was a DJ there, playing some tunes and making general announcements. A DJ can make just about any event sound like a radio call-in contest. If there was a lost set of car keys he would have announced it, and I bet if I had been the 25th caller I would have won them.

     The Somers Democrats were there, as were the Somers Republicans. And I must say that it was heartening to see that both sides of the political spectrum could come together in the spirit of bipartisanship. Failing that, at least no one was hurt seriously, or even humorously. I think a lot more could get done in Washington if a zeppole truck was introduced into the negotiations.

     There were a bunch of bouncy houses set up over near the bank parking lot. Looking closer, these were luxury bouncy townhomes with a bouncy eat-in kitchen and bouncy master bath suite. There were bouncy slides and bouncy central air conditioning. I wanted to go in and see if there was a bouncy TV in there to check some bouncy football scores, but I was too tall.

     Town Supervisor Rick Morrissey was there hanging out, the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts had a tents set up, probably the only ones properly assembled. The Young Explorers were also in attendance. Few people know that Ponce de Leon was an original Young Explorer. He discovered Florida for the Europeans while looking for the "Fountain of Youth," so he wouldn't have to join the Old Explorers. There were cheerleaders, Irish dancers, a teenage rock band and other attractions.

     There was a real estate company there, and I hope they made a sale or two. I've been a resident of Somers for almost 20 years, and I think it's a great place to live. I'm thinking of investing in a second home, possibly an upscale bouncy house. I plan to pay for it with a bouncy check.