"Workers on routine" - an appreciation

From 1962 to 2016, the population of the United States increased to 322 million, up from 186.5 million, an increase of more than 72 percent. This remarkable growth went unnoticed on a daily basis by most Americans, until, like drivers on the LA freeways, they began to suspect all the growth was in their backyard. 

One part of the American scene that did not keep pace with this bursting through the seams growth was the federal workforce. Every two years, however, politicians rant about the size of government and promise to cut back the number of federal employees. 

Over the last fifty years or so, the federal civil service grew at a slower rate than the population it serves despite the needs and demands for services which became more complex and diversified with the increasing population. (Fair Disclosure: I worked federal civil service from 1960 to 1979 in national security management positions.)

There are 2.663 million federal civil service workers and more than half of these  are employed in three agencies: Department of Defense, Department of Homeland Security and the Veterans Administration. The man on the street would probably agree these workers are essential to security and safety and the care of those who bore arms for America.

President Lyndon Johnson referred to federal employees “as workers on routine.” This “routine” has become more complex and the skills and competence required more demanding as the years have passed. Analytical ability, judgment, discretion and personal responsibility are the norms today, a far cry from the mostly clerical workers of the 1950s.

Cabinet head appointments are all the news right now with a new administration being formed. But it is the “workers on routine” who will continue to explore the universe, hunt for criminals, attend to the public health, send out the Social Security checks, and backstop the servicemen and women who defend the shores. 

(The statistics in this overview came from the January 2017 issue of narfe, publication of the National Active and Retired Federal Employees Association.) 

Click here for the complete blog.

Click to comment.

Bean soup and the third rail of politics

Question of the Day: When the dining room is serving two-bean soup and the two people ahead of you each get a bean does this mean your soup is only water?

Buckle your seatbelt: The political roller coaster train left the station on November 8 and has been slowly climbing to the highest peak where on January 20th the brakes will release and America will begin a rocking and rolling four-year ride the likes of which have never been experienced in this country. The era of Trumpism will have begun. We will all be screaming our lungs out before it is over. 

Celebrating the centenary of the Russian Revolution:  Most of the old Bolsheviks of the last century are long gone (good riddance). Nevertheless, next year will note the 100th anniversary of the Russian Revolution and it will be interesting to see to whom homage is paid. Lenin is hardly mentioned these days; Stalin continues to have some mileage, but  all those who came after him are minor leaguers. Khrushchev almost started a world-ending nuclear war but that’s a negative even diehard old Soviets are likely to ignore. Sheila Fitzpatrick wrote in the Diary (London Review of Books, Dec. 1, 2016) that in the early days of Communism passive peasants listened and agreed to everything proposed to them at village meetings until at the last moment someone yelled “fire” and the whole crowd vanished before signing. Something similar probably awaits all the hoopla Putin will throw at the Russian people (and the rest of the world) for whom the Revolution is an “outright embarrassment.”

54 Million Will Die Cursing:  Congressional Republicans want to shrink the size of government and lower taxes. There is talk of “privatizing” Medicare or issuing “vouchers,” but a better topic would be increasing mental health services for anyone who votes to take Medicare away from 54 million people, most of whom are seniors. Seniors may have a reputation for not being able to remember what they had for breakfast but take away a benefit like Medicare and their final words will be a life long curse on those who voted to do so. Tip O”Neill said it best decades ago: “Medicare is the third rail of politics, touch it and you’re dead.”

Click here to view complete blog.

Click to comment via email.

Brushing, walking and the next SC governor

Rest with the Angels, John Glenn.

About every month or so, sometimes two, life gives you a kick in the butt. I got my Nov-Dec kick, when, during a period of two weeks, I carried an Oral-B Model 1000 electric toothbrush around to two Wal-Mart stores  and a CVS drug store looking for replacement brushes.  No luck. At the CVS a sales lady helped select some brushes and said they would fit my model. I asked to try them. She said I had to buy them first, so I did. Then we cut the package open, they didn’t fit, and she reversed the sale. After “no luck” at the second Wal-Mart, I tried to order on-line. I learned Braun stopped making the Model 1000 in July 2015 and are now selling a upgraded version: the Oral-B Pro 1000. No one in the three stores knew the Model 1000 was discontinued.

A man, in his 80s, walked strangely when he came to breakfast one morning. His wife immediately went on alert. When he finished and walked away from the table he walked in the same odd way. The worried wife called 911 and took him to the ER. She waited and started calling family. Shortly a young doctor came out of the ER smiling and told the wife her husband was OK. “He just put both legs in one opening of his underpants and when he finishes re-dressing he will be out.”

Dreams do come true department: Henry McMaster, an attorney, former federal prosecutor and currently South Carolina Lieutenant Governor, will finally achieve his long held dream of being Governor when Governor Nikki Haley is confirmed as U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations; she having been chosen by President-elect Donald Trump.  McMaster, one of the most aggressive self-promoters in S.C. politics is likely to start campaigning for a full term as Governor in 2018 while he serves the last two years of Haley’s term. 

When he was U.S. Attorney for South Carolina, Mr. McMaster was the master of the press release and self promotion. According to Wikipedia: “His actions were criticized as transparently political, with journalist Lee Bandy writing that ‘no one can recall any other U.S. attorney being so public-relations conscious’ and noting that McMaster had produced more press conferences and news releases than all of his predecessors combined.” 

Self-promotion worked for Mr. Trump, and Mr. McMaster was one of his earliest S.C. supporters. 

Click here for the complete blog. 

Click to email comments.

You can go back again

Tuesday next will be two weeks since I returned to Independent Living at Franke at Seaside in Mount Pleasant, S.C., where I lived from 2008 to 2013.  Coincidentally, one of the thousands of pictures on my computer that popped up as a screensaver was a picture I took more than five years ago while the fountain in the small park in front of the apartment houses was being built.

The fountain was completed in March 2011 and continues to flow and life goes on. The reception from friends I lived among years ago has been warm and gracious. New acquaintances are likewise friendly. Life is good. 

Click here for the complete blog.

Click to Email comments.

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

A fresh beginning

A fresh beginning

On November 9, the morning after the election I posted this note on my Facebook page: “Congratulations to the winners in Tuesday's elections across the country. Now it is time to go forward in peace and harmony to build the best future for all Americans.”

On November 22, I left Moss Creek Plantation in Hilton Head, but I am not moving to New Zealand or Mongolia, or any other place not bordered by the Atlantic and Pacific oceans and Canada and Mexico. I have been around the world; lived for some time in China, Australia and Europe and there is no place I want to call “home” more than the United States. I simply moved about 100 miles up the road to Mt. Pleasant, S.C. 

This move does not relate to the outcome of the recent Presidential election, although like many, I was shocked and am still apprehensive.

When I married for the second time on St. Patrick’s Day in March 2013, I moved to Hilton Head with my late wife, Joyce, and the house she owned.  Now I return from whence I journeyed: Franke at Seaside, a continuing care community, where I spent the final five years of a 56 year marriage to my first wife, Mary. I will live in an Enhanced Independent Living apartment in The Cove while waiting for a larger apartment to open elsewhere on the campus.

This move has been an exhausting process. More so than any other I have made. Perhaps age and being alone play a part.  I made a checklist of things I had to do. Twenty-four tasks came up on the list, some of them with sub-lists. Culling books, wall hanging pictures, clothing, and other creature comforts were among the hardest things to do. A local charity agreed to come by and make the pickup: more than 25 boxes and bags of items I have been hauling around since I closed our house in Hanahan, S.C., in 2007. (Think pack rat or hoarder.)

When Joyce died in August 2015, she provided in her will that I could live in the house as long as I wanted,  and bequeathed to me a house full of furniture, appliances, furnishings, pictures, silverware, china, glass, and books. With the agreement of her Trustee, I am able to leave most of this behind for the use and benefit of her children.

The next phase of my life begins. I look forward to renewing friendships with former acquaintances, making new friends, and getting on with the process of life. I enjoy good health and am comfortable in my own skin. Who knows, I may even find another wonderful woman to walk hand in hand with into the future. 

My email remains: arch@archibald99.com)

Click here for the complete blog.

Click here to comment via email.

Posted by Francis X Archibald at 12:14 PM No comments:

We have our memories

After my post about my memories of Vince Lombardi (below) a dear friend Barbara Smyth wrote to share her childhood sports memories. She and George married after he finished Yale in 1952 and live today at Franke at Seaside in Mt. Pleasant, SC. 

Memories are made of this

George and I were not football fans as we grew up, we were Brooklyn Dodgers fans through and through since we lived in Brooklyn and our families went to games throughout the season and I listened to games on the radio after school so I could tell my Dad what happened to OUR team when we had dinner that evening.  When Mom, Dad and I went to Ebbets Field, we sat in the bleachers for 50 cents each and always a double header which gave us the most baseball for our money.  We packed a picnic lunch in a tiny cardboard suitcase with a quart of lemonade for the 3 of us, and off we went.

George's family sat behind first base in the seats bought for Smyth-Donegon Plumbing Supply Co. customers whenever they were not used for business.  After a number of years, they electrified Ebbets Field and there were 14 night games that first season.  Sometimes, Poppa Smyth would give George and his sister tickets to take a friend, and when I was so lucky to be asked, I would be all dressed up like all the other ladies at the game with white gloves, stockings and heels, and a dress, and he would have on a suit and tie, and if his dad went, he would wear a fedora and a suit.  Everyone dressed like that for a Dodger game in the 1940s!  Far cry from today's styles! 

We have wonderful memories of those times - I think we had more dates at Ebbets Field in those years than any other place, including a World Series game in 1952.  So when the Dodger management got approval in 1957 to move the team to LA in we were heart broken.  The team had united everyone in Brooklyn - how could they take that away from us?  I could go to work in NYC in summer and as I hung on a subway strap, I could talk to the unknown guy next to me and ask about a certain catch by Dolph Camilli or fantastic catch by Pete Reiser out in center field - everyone listened to the games on the radio reported by Red Barber, live from the field or sent in by teletype and he would add enthusiasm just like he was watching it in person. You could talk to anyone in the grocery store or on the subway - it was OUR team!!!  Now that property is a huge high rise apartment complex.  

At least we have our memories!  Our childhood was great!

Click for complete blog.

Comment to arch@archibald99.com

A look back in sorrow

Yesterday I turned on my cable system and found myself one minute into an NFL film on the life of Vince Lombardi. I sat there for the next hour re-living the exciting sports days of the 1960s. I have been a Green Bay Packer fan since my high school days and when Coach Lombardi went to Green Bay in 1959 he breathed fresh life into the NFL’s smallest franchise and I was optimistic. 

His hard-edged style turned the Packers into the most envied and successful franchise in the 1960’s, leading them to five NFL Championships, and victories in Super Bowl I and II.

Twenty-five or more years later, after I was retired, my wife and I were driving to Alaska from South Carolina and she was looking at a book of maps and my pre-planned route. She asked why we were going through Wisconsin, and I said that was how one got to Canada. She said that was ridiculous and I agreed. “I want to go to Green Bay,” and she just smiled. She knew the lure of the Packers. 

The first day in Green Bay started with a tour of the stadium, along with a dozen or so others. The docent pointed to one end of the field and asked if anyone on the tour knew what that was. I quickly replied, “That’s the South end zone where Bart Starr dove to glory in the Ice Bowl and the Packers won their third straight NFL championship.” I knew. Packers 21, Cowboys 17. 

My two oldest sons (12 and 9 years old) and I had watched that game in 1967, glued to the black and white TV, anxious all the way. In the final four and a half minutes the Packers drove 65 yards, culminating with Starr’s quarterback sneak. It was third down, no time outs left, 13 seconds on the clock and there would be no time to kick a 4th down field goal and tie the game at 17 all. Lombardi told Starr to go for broke.

The coach went on in 1969 to the Washington Redskins (where he was given a part ownership in the team) and in 1970 died from cancer. One of the saddest days in sports history. As the film showed his funeral in St. Patrick’s cathedral in New York City, I had tears in my eyes, even after all these years. 

Click here for the complete blog.

Comment to: arch@archibald99.com

Matthew KO's Kayaks

Matthew KO’s Kayaks

Like the heavyweight it was, Hurricane Matthew tore through Georgia, South and North Carolina in early October leaving havoc and misery for many residents in its path. Downed trees, collapsed roofs, flooded streets and homes, water and sewer lines broken, caskets disinterred, debris everywhere. Emergency services and first responders taxed to the max. There was a report of a man who called a pizza delivery service to take a pie to his grandmother and tell her to call him. They did, she did. 

At my house there was no serious damage. One limb from a neighbor’s tree fell across the edge of the roof but it was harmless. My cleanup was easier than for thousands of others. 

All around Moss Creek, the last gated community before reaching Hilton Head Island, the affects of the storm can still be seen. It will be weeks before all the debris is carried away and restoration can begin. The golf courses haven’t re-opened yet. Horrors. Psychiatrists are on hand. (Just kidding.)

Lesser known damage sites include this kayak storage area at Moss Creek. This is at the marina where at least two boats left in the water to ride out the storm capsized. 

  

Click here for earlier posts.

Comment to: arch@archibald99.com

Gratitude in Life

Why I am grateful

When I woke this morning, October 2, 2016, it was the first day of my life I was 85. I am a guy who has had a good life; one who studied, worked, laughed and cried, and loved and lost.  During the past week I looked back on the many people and life events I have to be truly thankful for. My attention is with specific individuals and cohorts of people whose place in my life is deeply personal to me. By listing them here I hope to pay homage to them and let it be known publicly how truly grateful I am to:

• a loving God for the blessings of life and overlooking my failures and foibles.
• my country - the USA - for the privilege to live in freedom and opportunity to dream, to fail, to succeed. 
• my parents, Francis C. and Anne C. (Wynn) Archibald for giving me life.
• my siblings, children and extended family members who make life interesting and fun.  
• the public school teachers and Xaverian Brothers who instructed me through high school.
• my higher education professors and teachers who opened wide the doors to knowledge.
• Ed Cavanaugh who helped me get my first job as a teen-ager.
• Ed Quigley, part-time employer and kind friend who urged me to join the U.S. Air Force.
• Lt. Col. John A. Brock, USAF, mentor and career facilitator.
• the men and women who made my working life challenging, successful and pleasurable.
• Carl Meynardie, publisher of The Hanahan News, who gave me a column and expanded a voice.
• the friends and allies who supported my political and elected service. 
• the medical practitioners who take care of me.
• my late wife, Mary Frances Cooper, who married me, loved me, and gave me five children.
• my children who each developed in a different way and make me proud to be their father.
• my late second wife, Joyce L. Wahlrab, who loved me unconditionally.
• the innumerable men and women who touched my life, and I theirs, during these 85 years.

The timeline of a life is uncertain, but I look forward to the years ahead. I pray for long life, that I might love and serve My Lord, My God, and assist those in need in some small way.

Comments to: arch@archibald99.com

Click here for complete blog. 

So many books, so little time

About six years ago Google counted the books in the world and come up with 129 million plus. This figure has been updated by others, not entirely scientifically, to more than 134 million and counting.

An average person reads 200-300 words per minute. At this rate, someone (with math skills greater than mine) has calculated it would take 60,000 years to read every book currently catalogued in the Library of Congress.

Nobody has that kind of time. Certainly not me. I have other things to do. So I compensate. 

I read book reviews and familiarize myself with at least what the editors of The New York Review of Books, The London Review of Books and the The New York Times Sunday Book Review section, think is worth reviewing and possibly reading. Also ads in these publications are often a good source of of information for new books. 

In 2013, more than 300,000 books were published in the United States. Assuming that number remained steady in the ensuing years, selecting those to be reviewed is a formidable, awesome and challenging task.

During the 1980’s and 1990’s, I reviewed books for the Sunday edition of The State in Columbia, S.C. The office of the editor over-flowed with books stacked in open bookcases, on the floor and still in unopened packages. I can only imagine what a corresponding office must look like in New York and London. 

At this point in my life I prefer to devote my reading to non-fiction works, concentrating on memoirs, and books on world affairs and international issues. I do make one exception: Alan Furst, an American author of fifteen historical spy novels dealing with the period 1938 to the late forties. His is the last book I could not put down. 

What do you like to read? I would be interested in hearing from you. Send comments to: arch@archibald99.com.

The complete blog is reached by clicking here. 

Remembering a day of my youth

When I was in high school (Keith Academy, Lowell, MA., 1946-1949) I clerked after school in a Kennedy’s Butter and Egg Store, one of many such stores in a large New England chain. I don’t know if the store belonged to “those Kennedy’s” but that was it’s name. The store was on Central Street in downtown Lowell and did a crisp business every week as hundreds of people walked by and came in for butter cut from large tubs, eggs collected from baskets, bulk cheese of many kinds, fresh ground coffee (three choices), bulk tea, and a few shelves of tinned goods, crackers and cookies. Usually three of us were at work:  the store manager, another full-time clerk and myself; an after school helper who stocked shelves, cleaned windows, swept floors and waited on customers. 

In the fall and winter it got dark early and many’s the night I walked home in darkness and cold. I had this job to help out at home. At the end of the week I would turn my pay envelope over to my mother and I would keep a small amount for myself. An older sister did the same and eventually my younger brother would also fall into line. My father had disappeared years earlier and did not support his wife and five children so when we became of the working permit age, 14 it was, we got work permits and found jobs.

When the store closed at six in the evening the manager and the full-time clerk headed their ways and I went mine. I walked down Central Street past another ten or so stores and then turned left on Market Street. A long walk up this street past mills that still employed hundreds, across the canal and past the Lowell Boys Club and a series of Greek coffee shops and stores would take me to the entrance to the housing project where we lived. Shortly after turning onto Market Street I walked past the Lowell Police Station. It was a long red brick building, two stories high. On the ground level past the main entrance there was a series of cells. In the warm weather open windows afforded people passing by a glimpse of them. 

On one early Autumn night as I walked on in the twilight I was passing the police station and I heard a commotion. At the end of the building a window was open for ventilation and I stopped to listen and look. I was a teenager, I was curious. Police were cutting a man down from the bars. He had hanged himself. A policeman saw me looking through the window and yelled at me to “Go on. Get out of here.” I did as I was told and hurried on home.  

When I arrived home a neighbor lady was in our house talking with my mother. My sisters and brothers were there as well. I told them what I had seen at the police station and my story was dismissed as exaggeration. I was disappointed that no one believed me and felt deflated. I had seen an important thing and wanted to share it. We had supper and nothing more was said.

Later that evening, probably around nine, the neighbor who had been in my house came to our door and told my mother she had a phone call on the neighbor’s phone. We did not have phone in our house at the time. My mother went next door and when she returned she was obviously shaken. An aunt had called. The aunt’s brother, a veteran of the recently concluded World War II had committed suicide in the local jail a few hours earlier. He was a veteran seared by war who had a massive drinking problem and was known to the local police. They occasionally locked him up until he sobered and then they turned him loose. He was not a criminal they had to keep an eye on. He was just a man scarred by his war experiences and they tried to help him.

Click here for earlier posts.

Comment to: arch@archibald99,com 

Two women and the MRSA infection, Post 2

Last week I put up a post (below) about two women and a life-threatening MRSA infection. I told the second woman, who had scheduled elective hip replacement surgery, about the first contracting the MRSA infection following necessary hip replacement surgery; this brought back her own experience some years earlier. She cancelled the elective surgery.

The post generated several comments from women and men I believe are worth sharing. None of the following is medical advice and readers must make their own decisions.

###“I think it is clear to say God used you in this.”

###“Thank you for reminding all of us that medical procedure involves danger that must be very seriously considered.”

###“Thanks for the warning. It is something I didn’t think about when I had elective surgery 1 1/2 years ago, I will definitely keep this in mind should I be so foolish to ever consider elective surgery again.”

###“This is very sad indeed. With all our advances in science and technology why can't we deal with these infections before they begin!!! I  have a dear friend who went through this twice and was on antibiotics for more than a year. It took her a full two years to recover and she still can't walk.”

###“I am so sorry for these two ladies. I just had a hip replacement in May and thankfully I did not have those experiences. I did delay my surgery so that I could have it done at New England Baptist Hospital, they are an orthopedic hospital only. They also have the lowest rate for MRSA infection. They test you for the infection 2 weeks before your surgery and if you have it in your system they treat you before you enter the hospital. You also use a special soap for a few days before the surgery to cut down on skin infections. I am so glad I picked them.”

###”Medical mistakes are the third leading cause of deaths in the US, only cancer and heart attacks kill more. Medical errors cause an estimated 250,000 deaths per year. I've had eleven surgeries, some minor, some very major so I've beaten the odds.... so far. With some exceptions it pays to live in New England with access to Boston.”

###“Interesting and frightening story.  But we know that technology has advanced significantly since, and yes, I’m aware of MRSA, but I have to say that I have had two (2) hips, two (2)  knees, and a (1) shoulder, totally replaced and they all work beautifully, thanks to the good Orthopedists down here in SW Florida. So to the ‘M” sisters, come down to SW Florida to have your procedures done, They probably do more replacements here, than in most other places in America, due to the demographics of the area.”

Click here for earlier posts.

Comment to: arch@archibald99.com 

Two women and a frightening tale

This is a story about two women, both born before the outbreak of World War II, who are connected only through me but who shared a medical event that is downright scary, and can be life threatening,

The first woman I will call BM grew up on the East coast, became a professional woman and moved to California. Decades later she has returned to New England to live among family. 

The second woman is a very private person who lives in New York City, and whom I will call JM. She had a fine career in the medical field, and is active in public life. She recently confided to me she had scheduled elective surgery to have a hip replaced later this year.

BM had an absolutely necessary hip replacement in California several weeks ago. The procedure, including a week in physical rehab went well. She was extremely pleased. 

Shortly after BM got out of the hospital she developed an MRSA infection and was re-admitted to hospital. The Mayo Clinic website says, “Most MRSA infections occur in people who've been in hospitals or other health care settings, such as nursing homes and dialysis centers…MRSA infections typically are associated with invasive procedures or devices, such as surgeries, intravenous tubing or artificial joints.” 

In the hospital ICU, BM was given three injections of powerful  drugs every day for seven days to fight the disease. 

After discussing this with BM, I emailed JM and urged her to include MRSA infections in discussions with her doctor and his staff to be on the safe side. This is a summary of her reply:

“Your MRSA (Methicillin-Resistant Staphylococcus Aureus) caution brought me back to reality - and earth. I had so wanted to believe that this one procedure would make me perfect again that I chose to forget the horrible (surgical) past and my vow 'never, ever, to go for elective surgery for anything....unless blood is issuing from every bodily cavity!’ "

Well, dear Arch, JM continued, here is what I repressed to myself. I contracted “a very serious, life-threatening case of MRSA from a first hip surgery 3 years ago and I was in intensive care for 17 days while they shot me full of mega drugs, and after months of daily continued drug injections at home, I (obviously) survived - but was told that I would be 'forever immune' to the life-saving properties of those same mega drugs”

JM concluded in sadness: “God works in mysterious ways and so, minutes ago, I received a call notifying me of the funeral of (name deleted), an old friend, and former co-worker,” who died Wednesday from MRSA after having hip replacement surgery.

JM was going to the funeral. 

Click for earlier postings.

Comment to: arch@archibald99.com

I don't believe it

I don’t believe the news that Donald Trump’s campaign raised $82 million in “small donations” from his supporters in July. No one raises that kind of money in a month. 

The names of donors who give less than $200 need not be disclosed to the Federal Election Commission in otherwise public filings by the presidential candidates. They can claim any number that comes to their head and say it came from hundreds or thousands of supporter. Would the Trump campaign do this?

In my opinion, in a heartbeat. Trump could pump his own money into the campaign and label it “small donations” to give his campaign an aura of  authenticity. He has refused to make his taxes public and has a record of overstating his personal wealth in business dealings. 

The more important story about money, however, is the debt Donald Trump will carry into the White House should he (God help us) somehow be elected. The man is in debt more than $100 million to banks (e.g. Deutsche Bank of Germany and its subsidiaries) that clash with U.S. bank regulators like clockwork. No other presidential candidate in the history of America has carried such a potential conflict of interest burden into the Oval Office. 

The news about the alleged $82 million naturally struck fear into the beating hearts of the Hillary Clinton campaign. The Trump claim raised Hillary’s fund raising effort to a new pitch. It is like morning following the night. One candidate makes a claim and the other capitalizes on it. I got an email today from Hillary’s campaign manager asking for a $75 donation to help compete with the (alleged - my word) Trump success in July. 

I’ve already sent my contribution to Hillary for August. If I believed Trump’s claims I would do more but I don’t believe it…

Click here for complete blog.

Comment to: arch@archibald99.com  

9/11 Memorial Museum - An Inspiration

9/11 Memorial Museum - An inspiration

The events of 9/11 were and are a tragedy, but the new World Trade Center and the 9/11 Memorial Museum is a testimony to the courage, resourcefulness and determination of the American spirit.

I visited the World Trade Center in January and rode 101 floors to the top in 47 seconds. It was an exhilarating experience. On this week’s trip to New York I visited the 9/11 Museum (opened in September) and was awed by it all.

The museum bears solemn witness to the nearly three thousand victims of the two attacks (February 26, 1993 and September 11, 2001) and all those who risked their lives to save others.

From the entrance hall through the concourse and and down the ramp to the Educational Center located on the original foundation level of the twin towers, is an experience to remember for a lifetime.

There is so much to see and appreciate. This is truly a spectacular response to the terrible events which bring it about, but it is also a determined response to the terrorists who caused it that America remains strong and we will not be defeated.

I hope everyone who sees this post will click on the link to the  9/11 Memorial Museum and spend some time visiting the museum. I believe you will be glad you did.

On advertising

Some thoughts on advertising

I was not consulted when individual advertisers worked up their copy for inclusion in The New York Times Style Magazine (July 17, 2016), and certainly was not consulted when the issue went to press. This is high fashion in spades: clothing, jewelry, makeup, household furnishings, etc. Top of the line, first rate stuff, bar none.

My status as a paid reader, however, gives me the right to comment, to  criticize or praise, as I see fit.

Three pages were devoted to trench coats. The opening copy read: “In the Trenches, The classic silhouette is back, as big and boxy as ever.” The pages were each filled with a model wearing Burberry and Paul Stuart trench coats. 

What would expect in an ad for a trench coat? This is a manly garment invented a hundred years ago for wear by military officers and men of action. Think Bogart. 

The advertisers obviously did not. The model in the three-page spread is a thin teen-ager of small build, who probably still shaves only once a week, and who is absolutely swamped by the coats he is modeling. He has the pouting look on his face that models, female and male, adopt for some strange reason. Like a show of emotion would shatter their psyche. 

I’ve worn trench coats over the years. They give you feeling of strength and savor faire. These three pages of ads would not sell me a trench coat. 

Click here for the complete blog.

Send comment to: arch@archibald99.com