Remembering...

There are not many in my family line who have died in the service of their country, though plenty have served. One great-uncle died aboard one of the early submarines during the conflict known as The Great War, before we had a need to assign numbers to them. A few ancestors fell during the Civil War. The earliest record of anyone in the family tree taking arms in defense of the United States was one John Gay, who fought in the infantry during the War of 1812 and is reputed to have died at the ripe old age of 104.

In my childhood, however, Memorial Day held a kind of mystical significance. It was the "opening weekend" for the New York metropolitain beaches out at Jones Inlet and Fire Island. Although I do not ever remember our family making a point of trekking out to the beaches on Long Island on Memorial Day weekend, per se, I do remember how, for several years, going to the beach was the only thing our family would do on summer weekends.

My dad hated (and still hates) crowds, which is a characteristic that I probably not so much inherited as acquired. The few times I've been cheek by blanket with the rest of humanity on a beach (ever see that shot by Weegee out at Coney Island?) I've felt hemmed in by the noise and that certain tension in the air that's characteristic of large gatherings, which is why I avoid the well-trodden paths almost anywhere I go (and perhaps why I've equipped myself - linguistically, for example - to be able to go where few others can follow without difficulty).

Of course, being alone is no treat, either. Today, I managed to put in a fairly decent work day, although there's a little part of me that says I could have done a lot better this past weekend. I had trouble focusing, and am getting that old brown-around-the-edges feeling from the constant grind.

* * *I've tried to watch more television this past weekend than I have been accustomed to watching in general, to little avail. I have little patience for the "meat" of the show and even less for the advertising. One tactic I've developed is to hit the record button for any show that displays any hint of being interesting, for later viewing when I need a break. Being able to skip the ads is gravy. (Hey, if I didn't need Humira^® this morning, I probably won't need it this evening, okay? So cut me some slack!)

* * *One truly interesting find among the dross that passes for entertainment on the tube was the last 10 minutes of an episode of The A-Team, which I tuned in only to satisfy an unnatural urge to see Mr. T put out a metric ton of lead from one magazine of ammunition, and that was an episode titled The Say Uncle Affair, guest starring - hold your breath - Robert Vaughn and David McCallum.

(I can hear some of you in the gallery asking, "Who?" Just humor me and shut up, okay?)

According to the info button on the remote, this episode of the show was shot in 1986 or so, about 20 years after The Man from U.N.C.L.E. called it a wrap. Vaughn looked unmistakably like Vaughn, but older; McCallum looked like... once I wrapped my mind around it... an older, yet much different McCallum, since it took George Peppard making a point of McCallum's playing the part of a Russian agent for the rusty wheels in my mind to start turning.

* * *In the "holiday spirit," the TCM and AMC channels have been showing "war movies" nonstop the past few days, and the History Channel has been interspersing Band of Brothers episodes between its current crop of shows attempting to capitalize on the DaVinci Code idiocy (there's a reason, author's desire for greater sales of books notwithstanding, for the book being in the fiction section, people!).

What I find interesting abou the TCM and AMC movies is the relative lack of variety. Virtually all of the movies are about World War II, although I did catch The Bridges at Toko Ri, which takes place during the Korean "police action," in the listing a couple of days ago. There's no trace of Apocalypse, Now or Full Metal Jacket, although Halls of Montezuma seems to have been played about a half dozen times, with To Hell and Back and The Enemy Below vying for second.

I suspect there must be some kind of contractual reasons for showing some films over and over again as opposed to including a larger variety of films. There was one film I watched when I was a boy, A Walk in the Sun, that I wouldn't mind seeing again, if just to feel those dormant synapses fire again.

* * *Work's been done and sent, along with invoices. The major - and only - item on the plate is... Another French Job (AFJ™), which I shall attack with enthusiam tomorrow morning.

Cheers...