Tales of the Tarantula

by Frank Terranella

  Dad: That sound great. But how does the car do that?

  Frank: Well Dad, it involves satellites.

  Dad: You mean like Telstar?

  Frank: Yes. And we get radio and television from satellites now too.

  Dad: Amazing. I bet television has changed.

  Frank: It sure has. People get television over a cable now. No more roof antennas or rabbit ears. And we have hundreds of channels.

  Dad: So you can always watch something good.

  Frank: Believe it or not, that’s not always the case, but we can get baseball and football games from all over the country now.

  Dad: So you can you still watch the Yankees? Is Mel Allen still around? How about Phil Rizzuto?

  Frank: No. They aren’t around anymore, but the Yankees are. We have 30 teams now and three divisions. The World Series runs into November some years. And you know those new instant replays they started on television a few years before you died? Now a manager can have a close play reviewed and the umpire’s call can be changed if it was a bad call.

  Dad: I think that’s probably a good idea.

  Frank: And the American League has a rule where they can have a player who bats instead of the pitcher. It’s called the Designated Hitter.

  Dad: I don’t know about that. Whitey Ford was a great hitter. He didn’t need anyone to hit in his place. What else happened in sports?

  Frank: OK. You remember that novelty AFL-NFL playoff football game they started the year you died?

  Dad: Sure. Green Bay killed Kansas City.

  Frank: Well, the AFL went out of business a few years later and the NFL split the league into AFC and NFC divisions. They continued that World Championship game and now call it the SuperBowl. They will play the 53rd one in a few weeks.

  Dad: What else happened in the world?

  Frank: So much. But some highlights – the Berlin Wall is gone and East Germany and West Germany have been reunited. The Cold War is over.

  Dad: The Cold War? What about the real war? What happened in Vietnam?

  Frank: Not so good. We got driven out and lots of young Americans were killed by the time it ended in 1975.

  Dad: Did you get drafted?

  Frank: No. They ended the draft before I was called.

  Dad: That’s good. So you said Nixon became president. Was he a good president?

  Frank: Well he did some good things, but he also did some bad things and he ended up resigning.

  Dad: Resigning? Can a president resign?

  Frank: It seems so. And you’ll never guess who was president in the 1980s.

  Dad: Rockefeller?

  Frank: Nope. Ronald Reagan.

  Dad: The actor? He was governor of California when I died. I could see he wanted to be president, but I never thought Americans would elect an actor.

  Frank: Well they did and they also elected a black man as president in 2008. Barack Obama served two terms.

  Dad: That is so good to hear. So I guess the country is beyond racism now.

  Frank: Not exactly. It’s complicated. We now have a president who tolerates and maybe even encourages white supremacists. And we have made it harder to emigrate here like your grandparents did.

  Dad: So not all good changes.

  Frank: Yes. I’m afraid so.

  Frank: But on the positive side, I have a great wife Pat and you have two wonderful grandchildren, David and Jennifer, and two equally wonderful great grandchildren, Bryce and Caroline. You also have three beautiful people who have married into the family, John’s wife Rosemary, David’s wife, Kim and Jennifer’s husband, Rich.

  Dad: Your grandmother would have loved to have had Terranella girls. She didn’t have any in her lifetime.

  Frank: Well your brother Joe’s family is full of Terranella girls. In fact my Terranella cousins have had almost all girls.

  Dad: So what happened to you and your brother? Did you become a writer?

  Frank: Sort of. I worked at a daily newspaper for a while, but then I went to law school and have worked as a lawyer for the last 35 years.

  Dad: What about your brother? Did he play sports? He was a great baseball player.

  Frank: No. He became a foot doctor.

  Dad: A doctor and a lawyer. I’m so proud of you two.

  Frank: Thanks Dad, that means a lot to me. The world has changed a lot in the last 50 years, hasn’t it?

  Dad: Yes, it has. And that’s OK. It’s great to know that no matter what changes there have been, the family is still doing so well.

  Frank: Merry Christmas, Dad. I have missed being able to say that.

  Dad: Merry Christmas, son. I have missed you too. And I hope you have many more happy New Years.

  Frank: I will now.

  Here’s to a merry bifurcated Christmas

  December 2018

  For my entire life there have been two Christmases. The first was the domain of Santa Claus, Rudolph and Frosty. The second was a birthday celebration that came with shepherds, angels and wise men. While the two celebrations ran on parallel tracks, they often overlapped. We would sometimes find Santa in churches and “Hark the Herald Angels” and “Silent Night” singing in the mall.

  What has happened in the 21st century is a much greater divergence of the secular and religious celebrations. For example, the two celebrations no longer begin and end at the same time. While the religious Christmas season does not begin until four Sundays before Christmas, the secular celebration has crept back further and further into early November and even earlier. These days by the time Santa arrives in the old-fashioned Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, Christmas decorations have been up at the mall and Santa has been meeting with children for weeks.

  Another difference that has arisen is the end of the Christmas season. In religious Christmas, December 25 is only the first day of Christmas. The season extends to the feast of the Epiphany on January 6, the day the wise men arrive. Secular Christmas even has a famous song that marks the gifts of “The 12 Days of Christmas.” But these days the secular Christmas season ends on Christmas Day, and many families put the Christmas tree on the curb for trash collection on December 26.

  The traditional Christmas music like “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” and “The First Noel” are derived from religious Christmas. It was not until the 20th century that an industry arose promoting secular Christmas. Songs like “O Come All Ye Faithful” and “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” were replaced by songs like “White Christmas,” “Silver Bells,” “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” and, of course, “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

  As secular and religious Christmas have grown further apart we have seen some interesting effects. One effect is that non-Christians now celebrate Christmas in large numbers. I know Jews and Muslims who observe the secular Christmas. The other effect is that fundamentalist Christians have been complaining about a so-called “War on Christmas.” They complain that secular Christmas is drowning out religious Christmas.

  This complaint is not new. Charlie Brown complained 50 years ago that Christmas was too commercial and was “run by a large Eastern syndicate.” Dr. Seuss had the same message in How the Grinch Stole Christmas. These warnings were to no avail. All these years later, if anything, Christmas has gotten more commercial. Black Friday, which 50 years ago was simply a day to recuperate from Thanksgiving dinner, has turned into a Christmas shopping orgy.

  My feeling is that if you recognize that there are in fact two separate holidays here, all is well. You can celebrate one or the other as you please. Many people celebrate both. It’s not hard to have a bifurcated Christmas. There are benefits to both the secular and religious observations.

  The important thing to keep in mind is the common goal of both secular and religious Christmas – expressing love for friends and family. As the lyrics of one of the best songs of secular Christmas say:

  There’ll be much mistletoeing

  and hearts will be glo
wing,

  when loved ones are near.

  It’s the most wonderful time of the year.

  Fiction: Christmas in hard times

  December 2018

  The normally mild December temperatures in Monroeville, Alabama turned frigid in the week before Christmas in 1938. That is to say, it was frigid by Monroeville standards, where snow was as rare as Boston baked beans. But to Alabama natives, the arrival of the north wind bringing wind-chill temperatures just above freezing was an event as unwelcome as any other northern invasion.

  Jean Louise had to search for a hat and gloves that fit her. In all her eight winters she had never felt cold like this. But what good was it, she thought, if it didn’t also bring snow. If she was going to have to wear gloves, she should at least be able to make a snowball or, even better, a snowman. These were things she had heard about but had never seen in her young life.

  She and her older brother Jeremy were running late for school and Miss Lee would not be happy, even though it was Christmas Eve and little schoolwork would be done. Punctuality was a virtue, Miss Lee always said. It showed respect for others, particularly grownups, who you should never keep waiting. Jeremy broke into a run and Jean Louise struggled to keep up. It was difficult to run with all this winter clothing. Soon she was a block behind. When she got to the schoolhouse, she found her brother waiting outside for her. He didn’t want to go in alone. One good thing about the running was that it served to warm them up, and they shed their coats as they walked in the schoolhouse door.

  Inside they found the other children already working on decorating a small Christmas tree. Miss Lee had brought ornaments with each child’s name on them so that they could celebrate that day in school and take their ornament home with them as a Christmas gift from Miss Lee. There was hot cider in the back of the room and Christmas cookies to add to the festivities.

  Miss Lee asked everyone to get a cup of cider and a cookie and sit down. She said she had a story she wanted them to hear. Jean Louise got her cider and put one cookie in her mouth while she scooped up a second in her left hand to eat later. She found her brother and sat next to him.

  Miss Lee then took out an illustrated book and began to read, “‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house…”. Jean Louise had heard the poem before. Her father had read it to her last Christmas. She wondered if her mother had ever read it to her brother. Jean Louise could not remember her mother because the woman had died when she was only two. But Jeremy had often told her about their mother and that she had read stories to him. Her father did that now.

  At lunchtime, the teacher told the children to take their ornaments and bundle up for the walk home. “I hope Santa Claus is good to you,” Miss Lee said. The town had been in the grip of hard times for as long as Jean Louise could remember, and many of the children would be lucky to get any presents at all. But her father was a country lawyer who had been able to find work throughout the Depression. Pay had often come in the form of chickens and vegetables raised by his clients. But they had gotten by better than most folks.

  In most years, Jean Louise would be happy to get a new doll or a ball. But this year Jean Louise wanted something really special for Christmas. She had asked Santa for a bicycle. And she had told all the neighbors as well, when they asked her what she wanted for Christmas. However, her father had told her that it was unlikely that Santa could bring her a bicycle this year as the hard times extended to the North Pole. “But President Roosevelt says that prosperity is right around the corner,” she had protested. Her father replied, “And as soon as we turn that corner, Santa will be able to be more generous.” Her father was persuasive, a skill that made him good at his job. So Jean Louise had reduced her expectations to a pair of roller skates. Her father told her that Santa could probably handle that.

  That evening Jean Louise and Jeremy had dinner with their father, after which he pulled out a Bible and read them the Christmas story: “The angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.’”

  Jean Louise had heard this story before in Sunday School. But the idea of a baby having to sleep in a barn with the animals struck her as strange. “Pa, were Jesus’s folks real poor? Couldn’t they afford a bed?” Her father had explained that Bethlehem was very crowded at the time Jesus was born and there were no rooms available. So they had to make do. “Lots of people are making do right now, Jean Louise,” her father concluded. “And now, since you are fortunate enough to have a nice warm bed, I think it’s time you got into it so Santa can come.”

  Jean Louise put up only a token fight before giving in and walking slowly up the stairs to her bedroom. She tossed and turned all night. Would Santa bring her the bicycle she wanted? She woke up at first light and woke her brother. They both went down to the parlor and looked under the tree. There were boxes for both of them, but Jean Louise knew they were all too small to be a bicycle. She would have to wait until next year. Resigned, she opened the box with her name on it and found a beautiful new pair of roller skates. She grabbed them and ran to her father’s room to show him that Santa had indeed come. She hid any disappointment about the bicycle and proclaimed to her father that the roller skates were swell.

  Jeremy was pleased as he could be with the football that had his name on it. He didn’t even protest when his father told him to put his best Sunday clothes on so they could go to church. Jean Louise was not as accepting, because this meant she had to wear a dress. “Why can’t I wear regular clothes, Pa? Nobody else is wearing a dress.” Her father replied, “If your mother was here, she would be wearing a dress too. It’s what young ladies wear to church.” Jean Louise pouted but gave in and put on the dress. She felt silly.

  As she finished putting on her dress, Jean Louise looked out her window and saw a big red bow on top of what looked like a pile of newspapers. She couldn’t see what was under it. She rushed outside without a coat to investigate, and under the bow and newspapers she found a bicycle. It clearly was not a new bicycle, but it was big and beautiful.

  She began to shout, “Santa brought me a bicycle after all! I knew he would.” The racket brought both her brother and her father outside. Her father was shocked to see the bicycle and looked it over carefully. “It’s a very fine bicycle,” he proclaimed. “You must have been very good this year.” Jean Louise was beaming. “Can I take it for a ride, Pa?” she asked. “Not right now, we have to get to church. Besides, you are not dressed for riding. Go inside and get your coat.”

  The children both went inside and their father examined the bicycle more closely. It had no tag to indicate who had left it, but the ribbon clearly indicated that it was a gift. It was not new. Someone had used the bike years ago. But it looked like it had recently been refurbished. But who had left it? He knew Jean Louise had told the neighbors she wanted a bicycle. He could not think of anyone who might have been responsible for making his child so happy. As he turned to go back inside, he noticed a tiny piece of paper glued to the side of the rear fender. It said simply, “Arthur R.” He smiled and walked into the house and said, “Scout, after church we are going to have to pay a visit to the Radleys and wish them a Merry Christmas.”

  Seeking beautiful places on the road

  February 2019

  Recently, I completed a travel project I have been working on for almost a decade. I have visited all 50 U.S. states.

  It was in the fall of 2009 that I was inspired by a Ken Burns documentary to see the United States. The PBS series was called The National Parks: America’s Best Idea. I was so impressed by the beautiful pictures of parts of America I had never seen, that I was determined to get out and see them all.

  Up until that point I had seen most of the East Coast as well as some of the
Midwest. My only trips west of the Mississippi had been flights to Las Vegas, Dallas, San Francisco and Los Angeles, and most of them had been on business with little time for sightseeing.

  When I saw the Ken Burns documentary, I wanted to see the National Parks. But more than that, I wanted to see the rest of the country I had missed in the first half century I was alive.

  And so I sat down at my computer and opened Google maps (or perhaps it was MapQuest back then). I knew I wanted to see Yellowstone National Park first. It had been our first national park and is still one of the biggest, featuring all sorts of natural wonders like Old Faithful. I also wanted to see Grand Teton National Park, which is located just south of Yellowstone, near Jackson Hole, Wyoming. And I wanted to see the Rocky Mountains up close and personal. So Rocky Mountain National Park in Colorado was also on my initial list.

  Eventually, as I began to plot a road trip to do this, it seemed to me that the best plan was to fly to Denver, rent a car and take a long circular road trip through the Mountain time zone. I added Mount Rushmore and Badlands National Park to the itinerary and then Glacier National Park in Montana. As if that wasn’t enough, I eventually added Arches National Park in Utah as well. So the first big road trip in June 2010 took us through Colorado, Nebraska, South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, Idaho and Utah. That was eight states I had never visited before. Now, along with my co-pilot wife, we had the bug.

  I took inventory of the states I still had never visited and saw that the Pacific Northwest was virgin land for me. And I also wanted to fill in some areas in Northern California I had not seen. For that road trip I flew into Reno (as I had never seen northern Nevada) rented a car and traveled to Boise, Idaho, and then west across Washington state to Mount Rainier National Park. We continued west to Seattle and even took a quick trip up to Vancouver and Victoria, British Columbia. From there we took a ferry to Port Angeles, Washington.