By

Andrew DeMarco

I have noticed that as I have gotten older it seems I have become more emotional or some might say sentimental. Things that would never move me when I was younger seem to affect me much more now than even a few years ago. For instance whenever I see or read a story about a good deed, like a town coming together to help a child who is sick or some child who gives up his or her allowance for an elderly person who needs it. I can barely watch Steve Hartman’s “On the Road” segment on the news or even Yankee Hope Week, I get moved in ways I never did before. I don’t mean all weepy and sobbing and in need of a handkerchief like John Boehner, I get what some would say is misty. I can’t explain it but I know I never felt like this before.

This all really started to hit home during the Papal visit of Pope Francis to the U.S. a week ago. Now for those of you who don’t know me I am not a very religious person. I guess I got my fill of religion having attended all those parochial schools when I was younger. It started out as just another Papal visit. To me the big visit always was and will be Pope Paul’s visit in 1965, after all it was really historic in that he was the first Pope to visit the U.S. But as Pope Francis made his rounds I found that maybe this one was different too. This pope seems to have a way of connecting with people much the same way as Pope John Paul II did and I find it amazing how people react to him.

There were two incidents in particular that drove me to becoming misty. The first was when the Pope visited St. Patrick’s Cathedral and as he made his way down the aisle he stopped in the very front of the church to meet with a young girl who was in a wheelchair. He then gave her a kiss and blessed her and the look of awe on that young girls face said it all. Once again, I got that misty feeling. My thoughts were what is it about this man and this office that can so move so many people?  The second incident was during Pope Francis’ visit to Ground Zero. Seeing all the members of the various religions gathered at that site just got me thinking, Imams, Rabbis, Lamas and many others all gathered together, but the clincher came near the end of that memorial when a youth choir sang one of my favorite songs “Let There be Peace on Earth.” That was all it took and I had another misty moment.

There was still another event during that week that started me down that misty road and that was the passing of Yogi Berra. It is kind of funny to be mentioning Yogi Berra in the same story as the pope, but only the pope could have knocked Yogi’s passing from the newspaper headlines and lead story on the network news. You see Yogi’s passing hit home a bit especially since I grew up a Yankee fan and there was no one who was more a Yankee when I was growing up than Yogi Berra. Sure there was Mantle, but Yogi was still the Yankee. Like all the other great Yankees back then this man was a part of my youth and I guess a part of my youth died also I am sure the same can be said of all Yankee fans as well and I got, you guessed it misty.

It was when all the tributes to Yogi started to pour in that it started with me again. One story told by Michael Kay about Yogi, did the trick and it is written below:

When Phil Rizzuto became ill toward the end of his life, he was put in an assisted living facility, which was about 30 minutes away from where Yogi lived. And every single day, because teammates were important to him, he would drive there, and he would play cards with Phil. And then when Phil would start to fall asleep, Yogi would hold his hand and when Phil would finally go to sleep, that’s when Yogi would leave. Every day. That’s what teammates meant to him.

So after one hell of a misty week, it finally hit me why I have become this way and it was something I should have realized much sooner. I have become more emotional because I am older. I have seen more of the good and bad in life then when I was younger and have come to appreciate the good much more. I would also like to think that I have become wiser and this wisdom allows me to see things differently than when I was younger. So as we inch toward that “on deck circle” I am sure we will all have our moments. One thing that is certain is that these emotional moments are not bad, and they do leave me with a good feeling, one that says everything is fine. That feeling leads to another and when the mist clears that feeling is one that Cousin Bob would call that ….. Rosy Glow.

By

Andrew DeMarco

The other day while waiting for my wife to get ready, I was bouncing back and forth between the numerous 24 hour news channels, CNN, FOX, MSNBC and the local channels as well. It seemed that on every channel the news was nothing but gloom and doom. Stories about mass killings, race issues, cold war and the threat of ISIS dominated all of them. Other issues which were prevalent were Supreme Court decisions, immigration, the national debt and the partisanship that is dominating our political process. All these channels were conveying the feeling that the world and our great country were all going to hell in a hand basket. This lead to the talking heads opining that the best days of this country are well behind us and that there was little we can do, and the more I listened the more it seemed all too true. After becoming totally disheartened before my day even started I continued my channel surfing and got to TCM (Turner Classic Movies) and the movie “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington” was just beginning.

For those of you not familiar with this film, to me and many others it is an American Classic. Released in 1939 and directed by Frank Capra, “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” starred James Stewart, Jean Arthur and Claude Raines, just to name a few. It tells the tale of naive and idealistic Jefferson Smith who is appointed on a lark to the U.S. Senate by the governor of his state. He is reunited with the state’s senior senator and his childhood hero, Senator Joseph Paine. In Washington, however, Mr. Smith discovers many of the shortcomings of the political process as he tries to achieve his goals which conflict with the state political boss, Jim Taylor. Taylor first tries to corrupt Smith and when that doesn’t work he then later attempts to destroy him through a scandal.

Now some might find the plot of this movie trite and simplistic, trust me it’s not and  since my wife still was not ready I decided that Mr. Smith was exactly what I needed to cheer me up especially after all that bad news.

After the opening scene when Jefferson Smith arrives in Washington is when it really hits home. Mr. Smith being from some unnamed state out wherever it is has never been to Washington and watching his enthusiasm and awe at the city is uplifting. Mr. Smith is thoroughly taken by the dome of the Capital and wanders away from his handlers. He visits all the monuments and memorials and his wide-eyed perspective gives one an insight into the type of person he is and what this country is really all about. You really only need to watch the first hour of this movie to have your patriotism renewed.

Now it was my wife’s turn to wait, since I was getting into it and my mood was rapidly improving. Needless to say, in the end it all works out well for Mr. Smith and he even gets the girl. So let’s keep in mind Mr. Smith’s optimistic and rosy outlook about this country.

This also got me thinking about a trip that my wife and I made to Philadelphia and the National Constitution Center. The National Constitution Center is a newer Museum in Philadelphia dedicated to the U.S. Constitution located on Independence Mall. On our first visit a few years ago one of the centerpieces was a 360-degree production called “Freedom Rising.”  This production is narrated by a live actor who takes you on a 200 year plus journey of all the key moments in our nation’s history. The opening line “We the People, who are the People?” sets the tone. What we do remember from that day is that it is a very moving production and afterwards there were not many dry eyes leaving the theater. Everyone who had seen it that day seemed to have a renewed sense of pride in being an American.

So as the Fourth of July nears I have this thought for this country’s 239^th birthday. Instead of all this talk about the best days of America being behind her, let’s remember that we have survived a lot in those 239 years. This country was born out of a war and survived another that almost tore it apart. We have been through two World Wars a Great Depression and a couple of Great Recessions, yet we are still here. We might be a little worn and battered but who wouldn’t be after 239 years.

I think that everyone, politicians and talking head news people included before they set out to watch their local Fourth of July fireworks should take some time on this holiday and read 4 simple paragraphs, the Preamble to the Constitution and the Preamble of Declaration of Independence. It will not take much time from your holiday weekend but I am sure it will add to your holiday spirit. In addition, anyone who truly feels that our best days are behind should watch “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington,” and write to the National Constitution Center for a copy of “Freedom Rising.”  I have no doubt that after watching both of these works you along with Jefferson Smith will have that feeling that Cousin Bob would call that….. Rosy Glow.

HAVE A HAPPY AND SAFE FOURTH OF JULY!

by

Andrew DeMarco

This Monday is Memorial Day where we remember those who died while serving in the armed forces. This holiday was originally known as Decoration Day and originated after the Civil War to commemorate both Union and Confederate soldiers who died in the war. By the 20^th Century, Memorial Day had been extended to honor all Americans who died while serving in the military.

I would like to remember all those who sacrificed their lives, to make this country warts and all, the great nation that it is today. I would also like to remember this Memorial Day Benjamin O. Davis, who although did not die in battle, made great sacrifices none the less. I learned about Benjamin O. Davis while reading an article in our local paper.

The U.S. Military Academy at West Point is constructing a new cadet barracks that will be six stories tall and house 650 cadets with a granite exterior to match the nearby Cadet Chapel on the same hillside. The naming of barracks is a rare privilege and usually reserved for such names like MacArthur and Eisenhower. These new barracks will be named after Benjamin O. Davis Jr. Who is Benjamin O. Davis you might ask?

While the Academy had graduated its first black cadets at the tail end of Reconstruction in 1877, no other black cadet had graduated in the 20^th century until Cadet Davis arrived. Benjamin O. Davis was a graduate of the U.S. Military Academy at West Point class of 1936 and was a Jackie Robinson and Rosa Parks well before their times. Cadet Davis was the first black cadet of the 20^th century and the only black cadet at the Academy during his time there. For this reason it seems that those at the Academy back then silenced and shunned Cadet Davis which was a punishment reserved for those who violated the honor code. He did not have a roommate and was spoken to only when needed. He was thought of as inferior by the rest of the Corps of Cadets and endured this treatment for 4 years even though he had attended the University of Chicago and his father Benjamin O. Davis Sr. would soon become the first African American General in the United States Army. In addition to all this, he still graduated 35^th in a class of 276.

In his autobiography Davis wrote, “What they did not realize was that I was stubborn enough to put up with their treatment to reach the goal I had come to obtain.” And attain he certainly did. When he graduated in 1936 and entered the army as a Second Lieutenant he and his father at that time were the only two black line officers in the army.

During World War II he was assigned to the Tuskegee Airmen and then later commanded the 322^nd  fighter group of the Airmen known as the “Red Tails”. During his service in WWII he received the Silver Star and Distinguished Flying Cross. Later in 1947 when the Army Air Corp. was spun off from the army, then Colonel Davis joined the Air Force and was promoted thus becoming the first black general of the Air Force. He went on to serve until 1970 when he retired as a three star General, but his service to his country was not over. Lt.Gen. Davis went on to head the federal sky marshal program and in 1971 was named Assistant Secretary of Transportation. He was later awarded a fourth star in 1998 by President Clinton.

Here is a man who endured countless insults and mental abuses for the country he loved and proved that there is truly nothing that one cannot accomplish as long as he or she has the determination and drive to do so. The real irony is that by the time he graduated he had earned the respect of his classmates as shown by their testament to him in their class yearbook.

“The courage, tenacity, and intelligence with which he conquered a problem incomparably more difficult than plebe year won for him the sincere admiration of his classmates, and his single-minded determination to continue in his chosen career cannot fail to inspire respect wherever fortune may lead him.”

He is the perfect example of what this country is all about, that opportunities abound and it is up to the individual to strive to achieve their goals, that the only thing that limits us is ourselves. This is what all those heroes whom we honor on Memorial Day gave their lives for, for us to have the opportunity to achieve, and to continue to make this country great.

So this Memorial Day let us honor those that have given their lives for their country and faced adversity like Benjamin Davis, and also to all those others who were given the opportunity, faced adversity and achieved their goals, like a Jackie Robinson, a Lucido Capozzola and a Salvatore DeMarco. When January 2017 rolls around and the new Davis Barracks are expected to be open and dedicated, I know I will be thinking of all those who gave their lives and to those who have achieved and lived their version of the American Dream and it will give me that feeling that Cousin Bob would call that….. Rosy Glow.

By

Andrew DeMarco

“People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball… I stare out the window and wait for spring.”    – Rogers Hornsby

I am staring out the window and it sure doesn’t look like spring, so maybe I should pray for spring instead. However, opening day is just around the corner and it is that time of year again when hope springs eternal for major league baseball. It is also that time of year, for what I hope will become a Rosy Glow tradition, my opening day musings. Last year at this time I railed about how change, whether we like it or not is inevitable. I went on about Jeter’s retirement, instant replay and other changes that I found inevitable, and annoying. This year I think I will take the opposite stance on how things should not change. It should also be noted here that at one time I was a fan of the designated hitter, but have come to see the error of my ways and have come to live with it.  I now see how without the DH adds to the strategy and gamesmanship that were originally intended for the game.

The big issue that baseball executives seem to be concerned with is the pace of the game and how they can speed it up. Many believe that the game is too slow and it is hurting attendance. Why then is attendance just a bit off from all-time highs?  Here’s a thought! Maybe it’s the price of a ticket and cost of a beer and hotdog that is hurting attendance. I wonder if any of these so called baseball experts asked any of the fans how they felt. Those who feel that the game should be sped up are those that feel the world is a fast paced place and would probably be on their smart phones and miss most of the game anyway.

Before I really get into my rant, let’s think of a few things. Why do we go to the ballpark?  Most of us who enjoy the game go to escape. It is a time where we can relax with family and friends, have a few beers and enjoy the game we love, no matter what the cost. So what’s the rush?  Some would do the same by spending 4 to 5 hours on a golf course and they don’t seem to complain, probably because they are away from their wives. (Just kidding ladies.) We also know that baseball is the only team sport where there is no clock, some might want to include doubles tennis in here, and some of those matches go on forever.  Perhaps we are just meant to relax at a game. Do you know why a football game is 60 minutes?  It is because no one wants to sit out in the cold longer than that, unless you’re a Packer or Bears fan and it is just inbred.  In reality when was the last time a football game ended before its allotted TV time?  Here’s another question why in the world is a soccer game 90 minutes?  Talk about a slow pace and watching paint dry, the good thing is that it is running time. (Sorry, I know I just offended all those soccer fans out there.)

We all know that there have been suggestions on how to speed up the game, from automatic intentional walks, limiting the number of throws over to first when a runner is on and timing pitchers. Well here is my take on these suggestions, they are all nonsense. They all in some way eliminate the strategy and mind games that give baseball its psychological element. For instance if a runner knows a pitcher can only throw over three times, you think he might be going after that. In most cases it is not the pitcher who slows down the game it is the batter. Even the revered Derek Jeter was a huge procrastinator when he was at bat. If you ask most pitchers I am sure they would tell you they are ready to go except a batter is either adjusting his batting glove or jock and constantly tapping his spikes clean. Are these really going to make a difference? If you really want to speed up the game cut down on commercials between innings but then I am sure the television networks would complain.

What really got my ire was when I read an article where the Bridgeport Bluefish and the Long Island Ducks two independent A teams in the Atlantic League are experimenting to speed up play by using “Slow-pitch softball rules” for balls and strikes. This would mean 3 balls and 2 strikes and if you foul a ball off you’re out. I know this was an unaffiliated A League but just the thought that they were thinking of doing this is insane. Why not take it a step further. Growing up in The Bronx we played softball on black-top so let’s do that too.

Here are my final thoughts for those of you who feel that the game needs to be sped up. Baseball has been around a long time and it has survived many scandals and even a war or two. There is the old saying if it isn’t broken don’t fix it and speeding up the game really won’t fix anything.

So if you are lucky enough to be at the ballpark just sit back and enjoy the game, the day and the people you are with. Just think it has to be better than being at work or doing your chores around the house. If you are not enjoying the game you could always leave and do those chores. It is amazing that we gripe yet survive most of the fall and winter staring out that window waiting impatiently for that first pitch of spring, yet when the games begin we can’t seem to sit long enough to appreciate it. Any way you look at it being at the ballpark should always give you that feeling that Cousin Bob would call that …..Rosy Glow!

PLAY BALL!

&

Happy Easter and Passover to all!

By

Andrew DeMarco

Handkerchiefs! I am sure that most of you who have read some of my previous Rosy Glows are wondering how a handkerchief can provide a Rosy Glow? Well believe it or not they can and just give me some time and you will see. When I think of a handkerchief I think of my father and any time I think of him it usually gives me that rosy glow. It was my father who taught me to carry a handkerchief at all times and also how to use it in a gentlemanly way whether blowing ones nose or providing it to others in times of need. Because of this over the years I have lost many handkerchiefs. I usually lost them at weddings or funerals; I gave them to those who were crying either out of sadness or joy. There were other times where I provided my handkerchief that I remember, all providing those glow moments.

The first of these moments that I recall was well over 30 years ago at of all things Iona College’s Founders Day celebration. I was there with my friends who were all alumni, among them Nancy Vaccaro who brought along her little niece Tara Delany who was about 2 or 3 years old at that time. Tara spilled juice on herself and it fell to the sidewalk. I took my handkerchief and began to clean her hands. Tara then took it from me and being the tidy little thing that she was began to mop up the sidewalk with my handkerchief.  One lost handkerchief but also a great memory which Nancy and I recently discussed (by the way, Happy Birthday Nancy). Tara is now married with 2 children and a third on the way.

Over the years I have lost my share of handkerchiefs to Coach Belle Koclanes, beginning with her final game in high school, which was very emotional for her. I lost another to her after her final game in college when she was a mess again. To this day I have not gotten them back, and Coach claims to have them and keeps them as a memento that I was always there for her.

I have indirectly lost another because of Coach Belle. That was last year at the Dartmouth end of Season Awards when Senior Captain Nicola Zimmer got all emotional and was in need of a handkerchief and guess who supplied it. I recently saw Nicola at a Dartmouth vs. Columbia game here in New York and she came up to me to tell me that she is taking good care of my handkerchief and it too is in her scrap book.

This lead Coach Belle and I to start a new tradition, the awarding of the “Uncle Andy Hanky” presented to the most emotional, weepiest in need of a hanky at the annual awards luncheon. This year I was unable to attend so I donated a handkerchief. Coach Belle informed me that it was awarded to one of her assistant coaches Maria Noucas and her father Jim who is a Dartmouth alum, who both lost it during the ceremony. Now I don’t know how Coach Belle handled it, if she was Solomon like or arranged for joint custody, but this was a first for one of my hankies.

Finally there is the handkerchief which I lost but was returned by Nanette Hill. Nanette is the daughter of my college classmates Bill and Nan Hill. Nanette is a golfer who won numerous awards while at Pelham High School. While still in high school Nanette received a sponsor’s exemption to play, as an amateur in the LPGA Sybase Classic at Wykagyl Country Club just down the road from here in New Rochelle.

During the first two rounds Nanette had a large gallery following her since she was a local, but unfortunately she did not make the cut. Afterwards she was quite emotional feeling that she had let us all down, so I gave her my handkerchief. After she calmed down she spoke with all her fans from Pelham who turned out to support her. Later that day she came back to me and wanted to give me back my handkerchief.  As this never happened before, I initially did not know what to do. After some thought I asked her to autograph it because as I said to her, “There is no doubt in my mind that you will make it one day.” (See the picture at the top of this Glow) She gave me one of those “really “ looks and autographed my handkerchief. I like to think that this handkerchief provided her with some inspiration.

Nanette went on to play at Wake Forest where she had an excellent college career and played in the U.S. Women’s Amateur. Upon graduation she joined the Q-school circuit in an attempt to play in the LPGA. She was doing fine when injuries occurred and set her back. But like her father who was a pitcher at Fordham and later in the Expo organization she has the heart of a lion. She endured numerous surgeries, rehab and persevered and just last month Nanette got her LPGA card and will be on the tour this year. She hopes to play in at least 20 LPGA events and hopefully she will be playing in the KPMG Woman’s PGA Championship at Westchester Country Club in June when the Town of Pelham can turn out again to support her. I know I will be there with a handkerchief just in case.

So there you have it, through good times or bad, moments of joy or sadness, a simple piece of cloth can help to create and bring back memories, create traditions as with Coach Belle or maybe even inspire. No matter which I know that all those handkerchiefs and the stories attached to them give me that feeling that Cousin Bob would call that…..Rosy Glow.