(left to right) Arthur De Mattei, Adolph De Mattei, Silvio De Mattei, Katarina De MatteiMy dad joined the US Army at 17 years old, that’s him on the far left standing next to my Uncle Adolph. My grandfather, that’s him on the right standing next to my grandmother, had to sign for my Dad because he was a minor. Dad was assigned to the 37th Infantry Division (Buckeyes) during WWii and shipped overseas to the Battle of the Pacific (Leyte, Luzon, Baggio, Guadalcanal, etc). I grew up hearing stories of the bloody island battles, of how hitting one beachhead after another kinda a makes a guy hate going to the beach, especially after watching your friends never make it home. My dad carried a BAR (Browning Automatic Rifle) because as he likes to put it, “I was a big son-of-bitch.” As a child my dad was my hero, he still is. He says, “I’m no hero, Son, the heroes never came home.” If you want to read more about the 37th infantry, there’s a decent summary on Wikipedia. If you want to hear more first hand accounts of the perils of war, give my dad a call or drop by and see him. Happy Veterans Day to all Dwho served and especially my Dad.
I was not around on December 7, 1941 but my dad was and that “day of infamy” so moved him that at 17 years old, with permission from his immigrant father, he joined the Army and was immediately sent over seas to be, as he likes to put it, “a sand bag”. He didn’t return home until he was 20. My point is, unlike many other young boys, he returned home and has never let me forget those that did not. Pearl Harbor Day also reminds me that kids everywhere are still the future of this world and we adults continue to treat them as if they are sand bags. I for one want the next war to leave the kids at home and send the adults. We’ll see how fast all this insane shit stops.
ACT I Lights up on Apartment 3C, NYC. We see GARY and CARYN spring cleaning while OLD CRANKY NEIGHBOR looks on. GARY: [while spring cleaning the apartment] Hey look! I found a giant egg! [creepy music] CARYN: [shocked; looks at GARY] We must give it back to its rightful owner: Mothra! GARY: MOTHRA! [more creepy…
February 29th, the bonus day we get once every four years. It’s also when a strange little village in the Highland’s of Scotland comes to life for the day and four guys in plaid jackets give the concert they never had a chance to give in the 1950’s because their plane crashed with Buddy Holly,…
When you grow up Catholic, it’s the religion textbook illustrators who should get all the credit for giving you the image of their God. Not Jesus, not the Holy Ghost, but “The Father” as He is called when making the sign of the cross. I’m no longer Catholic, I’m not religious. I believe in a…
A View from the Bridge by Arthur Miller is often referred to as Greek Tragedy. The current Young Vic production directed by Ivo van Hove now running at the Lyceum Theatre on Broadway completely honors that genre. Caryn Beth Hartglass and I saw the two hour intermission-less play last night. It was the final preview…
The United States of America is a country founded on the principal of antagonism. Muscles are antagonistic. Muscles get stronger working against themselves. Without the checks and balances of its people, who will disagree, we will no longer exist as a nation by the people and for the people. We must disagree on everything and…
Middle-aged heavyweight woman with five o’clock shadow pushing a loaded babushka cart and wearing some kind of schmatta on her head spit at me and then mumbled something in Russian as I jogged by her. Sources tell me it was either an ancient curse or a killer recipe for borscht. Not to be outdone, an…