BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
"...when he unzipped his head the sign in the mirror said "prisoner."
Rhonda H. Nelson
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Nov 2005, series of emails re Toots Shor…
Dear Mike:
I am trying to fact check the dates Toots Shor's was open for an article I am writing and wonder if you know whether it was still active in the 1960s. Thanks so much! Dina Kaplan
----------------------------------------------------------
sorry, Dina. Toot's went down for a few years.
But then a group of restuarant investors used him to front for a new Toots Shor place near Madison Square Garden. I don't have the dates in my mind.
When you finish the article send it to me, if you can. I'm interested.
Dina
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Dina:
The Lion's Head real time was way back in the late forties and fifties when e. e. cummings, Dylan Thomas and Brendan Behan reigned along with the literate crowd of the day. The sixties may have been the time that young Pete Hamill and company grew out of short pants and into the place but I think that its reputation had already been made.
In 1955 or 56 my English teacher at Horace Mann took a few of us down to the Lion's Head to meet Brendan Behan who refused to talk until each of us, underaged gigglers that we were, drank a half-pint of Stout. Mr. Baruth, a giant among English teachers, was non plussed and stood on a chair so as to declaim from the Plow and the Stars.
For the most part there was little intercourse between the denizens of the Lions Head and Toots Shor --- except maybe, now that I think of it, Hamill and Norman Mailer, perhaps Jimmy Cannon. But I was just a lucky peanut shell on the floor.
Moochies was beyond my ken.
Mike
Nov 2005, series of emails re Toots Shor…
Dear Mike:
I am trying to fact check the dates Toots Shor's was open for an article I am writing and wonder if you know whether it was still active in the 1960s. Thanks so much! Dina Kaplan
----------------------------------------------------------
sorry, Dina. Toot's went down for a few years.
But then a group of restuarant investors used him to front for a new Toots Shor place near Madison Square Garden. I don't have the dates in my mind.
When you finish the article send it to me, if you can. I'm interested.
Mike
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Mike
Dina
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear Dina:
The Lion's Head real time was way back in the late forties and fifties when e. e. cummings, Dylan Thomas and Brendan Behan reigned along with the literate crowd of the day. The sixties may have been the time that young Pete Hamill and company grew out of short pants and into the place but I think that its reputation had already been made.
In 1955 or 56 my English teacher at Horace Mann took a few of us down to the Lion's Head to meet Brendan Behan who refused to talk until each of us, underaged gigglers that we were, drank a half-pint of Stout. Mr. Baruth, a giant among English teachers, was non plussed and stood on a chair so as to declaim from the Plow and the Stars.
For the most part there was little intercourse between the denizens of the Lions Head and Toots Shor --- except maybe, now that I think of it, Hamill and Norman Mailer, perhaps Jimmy Cannon. But I was just a lucky peanut shell on the floor.
Moochies was beyond my ken.
Mike
Monday, November 14, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
The Horace Mann class of 1956 was composed of 106 mostly Jewish boys. Thirty-six were admitted to Harvard, Princeton and Yale. Twenty went to Columbia. A sizable contingent went to Williams, Amherst and Wesleyan. Five went to Cornell. One brave soul found his way West to Stamford. A few went to MIT. The remainder went to colleges of lessor distinction. Buster Stronghart, your faithful correspondent, was 105th in this class of 106 and was sent up the river, away, to Ohio Wesleyan.
Many of us became doctors and lawyers. Several became college professors. A few went into their parent's businesses. Two of us may have worked for the CIA. One may still. We have no accountants. We have several self-made millionaires and several more who are caretakers of inherited wealth. We have a few who are dead busted.
One of my classmates, the one who was graduated 106, has written a textbook about neurology and still teaches out West. He also holds patents for some surgical instruments which I cannot explain to you. One boy, from Finland, is the equivalent of Surgeon General of Saudi Arabia. The highest number of wives is four and that honor belongs to a lawyer. A few have made their living in magazine and book publishing. Another, a left leaning student at HM and Harvard became CEO of a Fortune 200 corporation and is one of those responsible for the development of genetically modified foods.
Did I say that we had a few suicides and several deaths by accident besides the first two who died the summer of graduation in a convertible in Arizona? Yes, two of the best of us were killed in an auto accident the summer that we were graduated.
Most of us have had more than one wife. The highest number of wives is four, and that honor belongs to a lawyer. As far as I know, and my information is incomplete, few of us have been totally faithful.
Not too many joined the armed forces after college. One who did was killed in action. I guess that the part of the class that did serve joined the reserves--but my information is incomplete here too.
.
Today's classes do not do as well in college admissions, and the percentage who become doctors and lawyers is much smaller. Today the most popular careers seem to be in the entertainment, business and financial areas.
HMhas the highest percentage of full scholarships in the New York prep schools. This year's tuition at the high school level is more than twenty-five thousand dollars. Kindergarten through third grade is twenty-thousand. When I went to HM from 1951 through 1956 the tuition was $900. We had a dormitory. That was another $900.
The dormitory was about two miles from the school. Everyone was required to walk with all books in all weather. Except my friend, J. who was often seen getting a lift in an old Ford. Innocent that we were then, we now surmisethat he may have been having a special, peculiar relationship with Mr. X, a teacher of ancient Greek and owner of that old Ford.
The rest of us trudged bravely along, through snow and sleet, practicing to become mailmen in case nothing else worked out.
The school now accepts girls and no longer has a dress code. Chapeland Tuesday Morning Sings have been eliminated. Many of our parents were assimilated or assimilating Jewish couples,and during the 1950's it was said that our parents eagerly acquiesced to a subtext of the mission of Horace Mann which was to oversee what we cameto understand was the bizarre transmogrification* of us Little Jewish Boys into tweed jacket wearing WASPs.
*Apologies to Professor Baruth who would not have approved of my use of a two dollar word when a fifty cent word would have sufficed. But I couldn't resist.
HM has the highest percentage of full scholarships in the New York prep school world. This year's tuition at the high school level is more than twenty-five thousand dollars. Kindergarten through third grade is twenty-thousand. When I went to HM from 1951 through 1956 the tuition was $900. We had a dormitory. That was another $900.
The dormitory was about two miles from the school. Everyone walked with all books in all weather. Except my friend, J. who was often seen getting a lift in an old Ford. Innocent that we were then, we now surmise that he may have been having a special, peculiar relationship with Mr. X, a teacher of ancient Greek and owner of that old Ford. The rest of us trudged bravely along, through snow and sleet, practicing to become mailmen in case nothing else worked out.
The school now accepts girls and no longer has a dress code. Chapel and Tuesday Morning Sings have been eliminated.
Many of our parents were assimilated or assimilating Jewish couples, and during the 1950's it was said that our parents eagerly acquiesced to a subtext of the mission of Horace Mann which was to oversee what we came to understand was the bizarre transmogrification* of us Little Jewish Boys into tweed jacket wearing WASPs.
mek
*Apologies to Professor Baruth who would not have approved of my use of a two dollar word when a fifty cent word would have worked. But I couldn't resist.
The Horace Mann class of 1956 was composed of 106 mostly Jewish boys. Thirty-six were admitted to Harvard, Princeton and Yale. Twenty went to Columbia. A sizable contingent went to Williams, Amherst and Wesleyan. Five went to Cornell. One brave soul found his way West to Stamford. A few went to MIT. The remainder went to colleges of lessor distinction. Buster Stronghart, your faithful correspondent, was 105th in this class of 106 and was sent up the river, away, to Ohio Wesleyan.
Many of us became doctors and lawyers. Several became college professors. A few went into their parent's businesses. Two of us may have worked for the CIA. One may still. We have no accountants. We have several self-made millionaires and several more who are caretakers of inherited wealth. We have a few who are dead busted.
One of my classmates, the one who was graduated 106, has written a textbook about neurology and still teaches out West. He also holds patents for some surgical instruments which I cannot explain to you. One boy, from Finland, is the equivalent of Surgeon General of Saudi Arabia. The highest number of wives is four and that honor belongs to a lawyer. A few have made their living in magazine and book publishing. Another, a left leaning student at HM and Harvard became CEO of a Fortune 200 corporation and is one of those responsible for the development of genetically modified foods.
Did I say that we had a few suicides and several deaths by accident besides the first two who died the summer of graduation in a convertible in Arizona? Yes, two of the best of us were killed in an auto accident the summer that we were graduated.
Most of us have had more than one wife. The highest number of wives is four, and that honor belongs to a lawyer. As far as I know, and my information is incomplete, few of us have been totally faithful.
Not too many joined the armed forces after college. One who did was killed in action. I guess that the part of the class that did serve joined the reserves--but my information is incomplete here too.
.
Today's classes do not do as well in college admissions, and the percentage who become doctors and lawyers is much smaller. Today the most popular careers seem to be in the entertainment, business and financial areas.
HMhas the highest percentage of full scholarships in the New York prep schools. This year's tuition at the high school level is more than twenty-five thousand dollars. Kindergarten through third grade is twenty-thousand. When I went to HM from 1951 through 1956 the tuition was $900. We had a dormitory. That was another $900.
The dormitory was about two miles from the school. Everyone was required to walk with all books in all weather. Except my friend, J. who was often seen getting a lift in an old Ford. Innocent that we were then, we now surmisethat he may have been having a special, peculiar relationship with Mr. X, a teacher of ancient Greek and owner of that old Ford.
The rest of us trudged bravely along, through snow and sleet, practicing to become mailmen in case nothing else worked out.
The school now accepts girls and no longer has a dress code. Chapeland Tuesday Morning Sings have been eliminated. Many of our parents were assimilated or assimilating Jewish couples,and during the 1950's it was said that our parents eagerly acquiesced to a subtext of the mission of Horace Mann which was to oversee what we cameto understand was the bizarre transmogrification* of us Little Jewish Boys into tweed jacket wearing WASPs.
*Apologies to Professor Baruth who would not have approved of my use of a two dollar word when a fifty cent word would have sufficed. But I couldn't resist.
HM has the highest percentage of full scholarships in the New York prep school world. This year's tuition at the high school level is more than twenty-five thousand dollars. Kindergarten through third grade is twenty-thousand. When I went to HM from 1951 through 1956 the tuition was $900. We had a dormitory. That was another $900.
The dormitory was about two miles from the school. Everyone walked with all books in all weather. Except my friend, J. who was often seen getting a lift in an old Ford. Innocent that we were then, we now surmise that he may have been having a special, peculiar relationship with Mr. X, a teacher of ancient Greek and owner of that old Ford. The rest of us trudged bravely along, through snow and sleet, practicing to become mailmen in case nothing else worked out.
The school now accepts girls and no longer has a dress code. Chapel and Tuesday Morning Sings have been eliminated.
Many of our parents were assimilated or assimilating Jewish couples, and during the 1950's it was said that our parents eagerly acquiesced to a subtext of the mission of Horace Mann which was to oversee what we came to understand was the bizarre transmogrification* of us Little Jewish Boys into tweed jacket wearing WASPs.
mek
*Apologies to Professor Baruth who would not have approved of my use of a two dollar word when a fifty cent word would have worked. But I couldn't resist.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
The phone has rung too many times this morning
No one’s been on the line though.
The de-humidifier the construction men left is way too loud.
They'll remove it tonight.
My porridge is just right.
The phone has rung too many times this morning
No one’s been on the line though.
The de-humidifier the construction men left is way too loud.
They'll remove it tonight.
My porridge is just right.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
My wife, my woman, that is, found a new haircutter,
He gave her bangs, and she looks so much
Younger. But I like women of my own age.
I leave the younger ones for cruder men.
We have more than four decades
Of memories, and two boys too, and a granddaughter
Who has diabetes and a wonderful smile.
She is very brave.
More than me, I think.
And, too, I think she’s smart.
We live in a big building
With no interesting neighbors. I’d
Like to pick their brains, but
there’s nothing to pick.
Am I too late for them? Have
They already been picked over? Or
Have they always been non-bearing?
mek November 14, 2005
My wife, my woman, that is, found a new haircutter,
He gave her bangs, and she looks so much
Younger. But I like women of my own age.
I leave the younger ones for cruder men.
We have more than four decades
Of memories, and two boys too, and a granddaughter
Who has diabetes and a wonderful smile.
She is very brave.
More than me, I think.
And, too, I think she’s smart.
We live in a big building
With no interesting neighbors. I’d
Like to pick their brains, but
there’s nothing to pick.
Am I too late for them? Have
They already been picked over? Or
Have they always been non-bearing?
mek November 14, 2005
Saturday, November 05, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
'I don't just write people off and move on with my life. There is much pain, because no matter what it is that they've done, everyone brings something to the table. And it was those things that made them worth sitting down with. When you walk away from the table, you're also walking away from those good things as well."
From" Desiree's Blog: Only in Theory
'I don't just write people off and move on with my life. There is much pain, because no matter what it is that they've done, everyone brings something to the table. And it was those things that made them worth sitting down with. When you walk away from the table, you're also walking away from those good things as well."
From" Desiree's Blog: Only in Theory
Sunday, October 30, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
superfluous.....Every superfluous man wants to keep on living. And all men are superfluous.
superfluous.....Every superfluous man wants to keep on living. And all men are superfluous.
Saturday, October 29, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
SPECIAL EXTRA REPORT FROM FT. LAUDERDALE:
This morning I walked the entire building using the fire stairs, and I discovered that amazingly the entire thirteenth floor was apparently forced out of the building by the Divine Power of the Hurricane. (at least in the South Tower, which was the one that I toured).
I live on the twelfth floor and walked up to the twenty-fifth, penthouse floor, walking most of the corridors, inspecting the damage.
On my way back down I noticed that the number of each floor was painted onto the doors that lead from the fire stairs to the interior corridors.
As I came down the stairs I noted each floor number clearly painted onto the appropriate doors, but when I was on the fourteenth floor and continued down there was no thirteenth floor! One door said "14" and the next said "12."
What had happened to "13?"
I went back up to make sure that I had not missed it. I cannot tell you how carefully I checked. Believe me, I was careful. The thirteenth floor is missing. No doubt about it.
It's gone.
M
SPECIAL EXTRA REPORT FROM FT. LAUDERDALE:
This morning I walked the entire building using the fire stairs, and I discovered that amazingly the entire thirteenth floor was apparently forced out of the building by the Divine Power of the Hurricane. (at least in the South Tower, which was the one that I toured).
I live on the twelfth floor and walked up to the twenty-fifth, penthouse floor, walking most of the corridors, inspecting the damage.
On my way back down I noticed that the number of each floor was painted onto the doors that lead from the fire stairs to the interior corridors.
As I came down the stairs I noted each floor number clearly painted onto the appropriate doors, but when I was on the fourteenth floor and continued down there was no thirteenth floor! One door said "14" and the next said "12."
What had happened to "13?"
I went back up to make sure that I had not missed it. I cannot tell you how carefully I checked. Believe me, I was careful. The thirteenth floor is missing. No doubt about it.
It's gone.
M
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
From Gross to me:
WE ARE STANDING BY FOR NEWS FROM YOU. gross
From me to Gross et al:
Okay, I replayed my initial report for each of you, though I can't imagine having forgotten to send it, but who knows? And if it is desired I hereby submit a follow-up.
My building was hit much harder than I originally thought. Our lobby, which is a separate structure about 150 feet long that joins the bases of the North Tower and the South Tower, was blown apart by what may have been a mini-tornado*.
In my last report I described the automobile which was tossed over a ten foot wall onto our tennis courts. Now, in the building a few amateur meteorologists (this is Florida, meteorology is very much "in" ) theorize that there may have been three separate tornadoes which swirled around our buildings perhaps trapped by the towers themselves which may have multiplied the forces of the wind. The apartments which face the court between the buildings suffered a lot of damage, most likely from the debris which was thrown about by the tornadoes or hurricane, whichever it may have been.
I have made a jerrybuilt repair to our broken window using a roll of duct tape and some heavy plastic trash bags which I had on hand ever since we moved from Great Neck, several years ago. It looks as though it will withstand a rainstorm or two, though, Homeland Security notwithstanding, I am not sure that it would withstand a chemical or gas attack.
Out of nowhere a firm called J. B. Hunt Disaster Restoration appeared on the property, and has begun to clean up the debris. Apparently they had cleaned up the buildings when we had a serious fire-explosion related to our sauna about ten years ago. Someone in our Management must have remembered them and they arrived with a few huge trucks, several smaller trucks which contained all kinds of tools for plumbing, electrical and other repairs, generators, a crew of uniformed experienced men (and one woman) who got right to it.
The pool has already been cleaned out, the lobby debris hasbeen removed (leaving only a marble floor and a rickety, holed roof which I imagine must come down), a truckload of sand has been removed from the garages, fallen trees sawed up and removed, the remaining landscaping, has been re-planted and the lawns raked, and temporary plywood barriers nhave been installed in each broken window or door. (one hundred sixteen windows and twenty-two doors leading to terraces.) In this building there were also apartment doors leading to the corridors which "exploded?" or burst open due to the wind or air pressure. I have seen two which were actually broken in half and one which broke away from hinges. Many of the walls in the interior corridors were burst along the seams between the 3/4" dry-wall.
As far as I know here were no injuries in either of the buildings. Our employees were completely overwhelmed by the extent of the work, and had Hunt not come in, I think that our Maintenance Manager and Chief of Security might have had breakdowns.
As far as I know here were no injuries in either of the buildings. Our employees were completely overwhelmed by the extent of the work, and had Hunt not come in, I think that our Maintenance Manager and Chief of Security might have had breakdowns.
M
*Beef Tornadoes. Twin 5 oz. Filet Mignon, Served on a bed of mashed potatoes,Topped with béarnaise sauce and Portobello mushroom sauce.
From Gross to me:
WE ARE STANDING BY FOR NEWS FROM YOU. gross
From me to Gross et al:
Okay, I replayed my initial report for each of you, though I can't imagine having forgotten to send it, but who knows? And if it is desired I hereby submit a follow-up.
My building was hit much harder than I originally thought. Our lobby, which is a separate structure about 150 feet long that joins the bases of the North Tower and the South Tower, was blown apart by what may have been a mini-tornado*.
In my last report I described the automobile which was tossed over a ten foot wall onto our tennis courts. Now, in the building a few amateur meteorologists (this is Florida, meteorology is very much "in" ) theorize that there may have been three separate tornadoes which swirled around our buildings perhaps trapped by the towers themselves which may have multiplied the forces of the wind. The apartments which face the court between the buildings suffered a lot of damage, most likely from the debris which was thrown about by the tornadoes or hurricane, whichever it may have been.
I have made a jerrybuilt repair to our broken window using a roll of duct tape and some heavy plastic trash bags which I had on hand ever since we moved from Great Neck, several years ago. It looks as though it will withstand a rainstorm or two, though, Homeland Security notwithstanding, I am not sure that it would withstand a chemical or gas attack.
Out of nowhere a firm called J. B. Hunt Disaster Restoration appeared on the property, and has begun to clean up the debris. Apparently they had cleaned up the buildings when we had a serious fire-explosion related to our sauna about ten years ago. Someone in our Management must have remembered them and they arrived with a few huge trucks, several smaller trucks which contained all kinds of tools for plumbing, electrical and other repairs, generators, a crew of uniformed experienced men (and one woman) who got right to it.
The pool has already been cleaned out, the lobby debris hasbeen removed (leaving only a marble floor and a rickety, holed roof which I imagine must come down), a truckload of sand has been removed from the garages, fallen trees sawed up and removed, the remaining landscaping, has been re-planted and the lawns raked, and temporary plywood barriers nhave been installed in each broken window or door. (one hundred sixteen windows and twenty-two doors leading to terraces.) In this building there were also apartment doors leading to the corridors which "exploded?" or burst open due to the wind or air pressure. I have seen two which were actually broken in half and one which broke away from hinges. Many of the walls in the interior corridors were burst along the seams between the 3/4" dry-wall.
As far as I know here were no injuries in either of the buildings. Our employees were completely overwhelmed by the extent of the work, and had Hunt not come in, I think that our Maintenance Manager and Chief of Security might have had breakdowns.
As far as I know here were no injuries in either of the buildings. Our employees were completely overwhelmed by the extent of the work, and had Hunt not come in, I think that our Maintenance Manager and Chief of Security might have had breakdowns.
M
*Beef Tornadoes. Twin 5 oz. Filet Mignon, Served on a bed of mashed potatoes,Topped with béarnaise sauce and Portobello mushroom sauce.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com Here's my hurricane report:
Here's what happened at my house:
A window facing south on the beach burst, sounding like a cannon ball, an inside wall that bellied out due to the air pressure, breaking a wall sized bathroom mirror and some tiling. --- a bathtub that had been filled to the rim with water for washing and making the toilet flush in which the water roiled as though in a winter storm on the high seas, chandeliers swinging, the building swaying, a nearby parking lot at which a car was tossed over a ten foot wall on to our tennis courts, a row of cars all pushed together to the West end of the lot, many apartments all around us had many windows broken.
Maria praying -- I admit it-- I was having the time of my life. Well, one of the times of my life.
Much water forced under the window sills of hurricane "proof" windows by the air pressure, Doors were impossible to open and walls buckled, due to the air pressure.
Water came into our apartment under the closed window sills, but, luckily due to the many hotels that Maria and I have visited during the last thirty or forty years we had enough towels to sop up the water.
Now, until 7:00 PM tonight (two days? three?) there has been no running water nor electricity, no elevators, no stores open, no gas.
However, boy scout that I am we were prepared and had plenty of batteries, cases of water, and trawlers filled with cans of tuna fish, and full tanks of gas in our cars. The Madam took advantage of the gas and went to Orlando to visit Mickey while I stayed behind waiting for the glazier to replace our window. Electric and water back now. I'll wait until the Madam returns to take a shower.
The two evenings following the hurricane there was not a light lit in Ft. Lauderdale. I saw the real starry sky in all its glory, the glory that God meant it to have, for the first time since camp some 60 years ago.
M.
Here's what happened at my house:
A window facing south on the beach burst, sounding like a cannon ball, an inside wall that bellied out due to the air pressure, breaking a wall sized bathroom mirror and some tiling. --- a bathtub that had been filled to the rim with water for washing and making the toilet flush in which the water roiled as though in a winter storm on the high seas, chandeliers swinging, the building swaying, a nearby parking lot at which a car was tossed over a ten foot wall on to our tennis courts, a row of cars all pushed together to the West end of the lot, many apartments all around us had many windows broken.
Maria praying -- I admit it-- I was having the time of my life. Well, one of the times of my life.
Much water forced under the window sills of hurricane "proof" windows by the air pressure, Doors were impossible to open and walls buckled, due to the air pressure.
Water came into our apartment under the closed window sills, but, luckily due to the many hotels that Maria and I have visited during the last thirty or forty years we had enough towels to sop up the water.
Now, until 7:00 PM tonight (two days? three?) there has been no running water nor electricity, no elevators, no stores open, no gas.
However, boy scout that I am we were prepared and had plenty of batteries, cases of water, and trawlers filled with cans of tuna fish, and full tanks of gas in our cars. The Madam took advantage of the gas and went to Orlando to visit Mickey while I stayed behind waiting for the glazier to replace our window. Electric and water back now. I'll wait until the Madam returns to take a shower.
The two evenings following the hurricane there was not a light lit in Ft. Lauderdale. I saw the real starry sky in all its glory, the glory that God meant it to have, for the first time since camp some 60 years ago.
M.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Thanks! To Lenny Lambert who came through with the judge's name: Samuel Liebowitz, a great trial lawyer who was a Democrat in Brooklyn when he was asked by the Communist Party to defend the Scottsboro Boys.
In over fifteen years of criminal defense work, Liebowitz had represented seventy-eight persons charged with first-degree murder. His remarkable record over that period was seventy-seven acquittals, one hung jury, and no convictions.
He worked without pay for four years. His efforts won him many death threats and the removal of four of the Scottsboro boys from the trial. One of them said, "I love Sam Liebowitz more than my own mother."
Thanks Lenny! mek
Thanks! To Lenny Lambert who came through with the judge's name: Samuel Liebowitz, a great trial lawyer who was a Democrat in Brooklyn when he was asked by the Communist Party to defend the Scottsboro Boys.
In over fifteen years of criminal defense work, Liebowitz had represented seventy-eight persons charged with first-degree murder. His remarkable record over that period was seventy-seven acquittals, one hung jury, and no convictions.
He worked without pay for four years. His efforts won him many death threats and the removal of four of the Scottsboro boys from the trial. One of them said, "I love Sam Liebowitz more than my own mother."
Thanks Lenny! mek
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
I am looking for the name of very tough Judge in Brooklyn, who had been one of the great defense atty's of his day and who MAY have defended the scottsboro boys, or perhaps some other important trial of that day.... two gold stars to the person or people who deliver me his name. It may have been Sam ______________.
thanks,
mike
I am looking for the name of very tough Judge in Brooklyn, who had been one of the great defense atty's of his day and who MAY have defended the scottsboro boys, or perhaps some other important trial of that day.... two gold stars to the person or people who deliver me his name. It may have been Sam ______________.
thanks,
mike
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Sometime in the seventies, ninetween, that is, as we drove down Johnson Avenue, along the border of Maspath and Brooklyn, we passed the Arctic diner, the middle of a section of junkyards and factories, and a large steel wharehouse named____________. We passed the Arctic Diner, and Dad mentioned that in the early 1900's there had been a baseball field there and that the name of the its team was the Artics.
Sometime in the seventies, ninetween, that is, as we drove down Johnson Avenue, along the border of Maspath and Brooklyn, we passed the Arctic diner, the middle of a section of junkyards and factories, and a large steel wharehouse named____________. We passed the Arctic Diner, and Dad mentioned that in the early 1900's there had been a baseball field there and that the name of the its team was the Artics.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
PAKISTAN'S DIRTY LAUNDERINGBy Jeff JacobyThe Boston Globe
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
http://www.boston.com/news/globe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2005/10/19/pakistans_dirty_laundering/
"Pakistan on Saturday welcomed an offer of earthquake assistance from Israel," the Associated Press reported on Oct. 15, "but said it would have to be channeled through the United Nations, the Red Cross, or donated to a relief fund."
On the surface, an unremarkable detail amid the devastation in Kashmir. But this is a story worth pausing over. For between the lines, it speaks volumes about the real stakes in the war between the civilized world and radical Islam.
The magnitude 7.6 earthquake that struck on Oct. 8 triggered, in the words of Pakistan's prime minister, "a disaster of unprecedented proportions in Pakistan's history." In one terrible upheaval, it killed tens of thousands of people, trapped or injured thousands more, and left an estimated 2 million homeless.
Pakistan's president, General Pervez Musharraf, went on television with an urgent plea for international help. Among the offers of humanitarian aid that began streaming into Islamabad was one from Israel, which is all too experienced in disaster rescue and relief. When a natural calamity strikes, Israel is often among the first nations to offer help; within 48 hours of the tsunami last December, for example, Israel had airlifted teams of medical and emergency workers, as well as 80 tons of supplies, to the stricken countries.
But as days went by and the Pakistani death toll mounted, there was no reply to Israel's offer of assistance. The Jerusalem Post recalled the 2003 earthquake in Iran, when the Tehran theocracy announced that it would welcome "all kinds of humanitarian aid from all countries and international organizations, with the exception of the Zionist regime." Pakistan, the world's second-most-populous Muslim nation, had never established diplomatic relations with Israel, but, unlike Iran, its attitude was supposed to be changing. In Istanbul on Sept. 1, the Israeli and Pakistani foreign ministers had met publicly for the first time; two weeks later Musharraf had shaken Ariel Sharon's hand at a United Nations reception in New York. Equally dramatic was Musharraf's conciliatory speech to the American Jewish Congress on Sept. 17, the first time a Pakistani ruler had ever addressed an audience of American Jews.
Yet it was not until Oct. 14, six days after Israel had communicated its willingness to help the earthquake victims "in any way possible," that it finally received a formal response. Yes, aid from Israel would be welcome, provided it was laundered through a third party. "We have established the president's relief fund, and everyone is free to contribute to it," a government spokeswoman coolly acknowledged. "If Israel was to contribute -- that's fine, we would accept it." Israel could help save Pakistani lives, in other words, as long as it wasn't too public about doing so. There mustn't be any embarrassing images of planes with Israeli markings offloading relief supplies at Islamabad's airport.
And no one should imagine that Israel's generosity toward a nation that has long been among its harshest critics and in which antisemitism is rampant would have any effect on Islamabad's thinking. According to the Daily Times, a Pakistani newspaper, the spokeswoman insisted that "accepting an indirect donation from Israel did not mean that Pakistan had planned to recognize it" or to alter its stance toward Israel, "which was unchangeable."
Israel will not criticize Pakistan's insulting behavior, preferring to understand it as a reality of Pakistani domestic politics. For Musharraf, a diplomat in the Israeli Foreign Ministry told me, "the number one priority is regime survival" -- and any regime that failed to treat the Jewish state with the appropriate level of contempt would outrage Pakistani public opinion.
But that loathing of Israel and Jews is not just a quirk of Pakistani politics. It is a hallmark of the radical Islamists whose terrorism worldwide has shed so much blood -- and who hold sway over more than 70 percent of Pakistan, according to Tashbih Sayyed, editor of the weekly newspaper Pakistan Today. An outspoken Muslim moderate, Sayyed sees Musharraf's recent overtures toward Israel as a feint -- an insincere tactic intended to impress Washington.
"That is why he has done nothing to challenge the way Jews and Israel are portrayed by the Islamists -- as demons, as an evil force," he argues. Many Pakistanis would welcome a genuine effort from the top to combat the radicals' hatred and lies but are not brave enough to fight them on their own. And so the Islamists go on spreading their lethal ideology.
And that, writ large, is the problem at the core of the war on terrorism. "The Muslim world is plunged into an abyss of darkness, antimodernity, anti-Americanism, and anti-Semitism," Sayyed says. Only a minority of Muslims are personally hateful or fanatic. But a minority can wreak enormous damage when the majority is unwilling to act.
Can you imagine Israel accepting assistance from the Iranians, or the Fatah, or the Palestinians, or the Saudis?
This is just another self-righteous attack on a Muslim nation that proves nothing. What would be wrong with Israel making a cash donation to The Red Cross -- or an anonymous donation to the Red Crescent--if Israel truly wanted to be charitable?
It's too bad that politics prevents acts of good will, but don't think for a moment that Israel wouldn't act the same way.
In fact, don't you remember that Castro offered Cuban Doctors during the Katrina debacle and President Bush turned him down, rather than take the opportunity to begin to establish relations?
It's just a sad political reality. And it proves nothing.
First please read the article: then my comment below:
PAKISTAN'S DIRTY LAUNDERINGBy Jeff JacobyThe Boston Globe
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
http://www.boston.com/news/globe/editorial_opinion/oped/articles/2005/10/19/pakistans_dirty_laundering/
"Pakistan on Saturday welcomed an offer of earthquake assistance from Israel," the Associated Press reported on Oct. 15, "but said it would have to be channeled through the United Nations, the Red Cross, or donated to a relief fund."
On the surface, an unremarkable detail amid the devastation in Kashmir. But this is a story worth pausing over. For between the lines, it speaks volumes about the real stakes in the war between the civilized world and radical Islam.
The magnitude 7.6 earthquake that struck on Oct. 8 triggered, in the words of Pakistan's prime minister, "a disaster of unprecedented proportions in Pakistan's history." In one terrible upheaval, it killed tens of thousands of people, trapped or injured thousands more, and left an estimated 2 million homeless.
Pakistan's president, General Pervez Musharraf, went on television with an urgent plea for international help. Among the offers of humanitarian aid that began streaming into Islamabad was one from Israel, which is all too experienced in disaster rescue and relief. When a natural calamity strikes, Israel is often among the first nations to offer help; within 48 hours of the tsunami last December, for example, Israel had airlifted teams of medical and emergency workers, as well as 80 tons of supplies, to the stricken countries.
But as days went by and the Pakistani death toll mounted, there was no reply to Israel's offer of assistance. The Jerusalem Post recalled the 2003 earthquake in Iran, when the Tehran theocracy announced that it would welcome "all kinds of humanitarian aid from all countries and international organizations, with the exception of the Zionist regime." Pakistan, the world's second-most-populous Muslim nation, had never established diplomatic relations with Israel, but, unlike Iran, its attitude was supposed to be changing. In Istanbul on Sept. 1, the Israeli and Pakistani foreign ministers had met publicly for the first time; two weeks later Musharraf had shaken Ariel Sharon's hand at a United Nations reception in New York. Equally dramatic was Musharraf's conciliatory speech to the American Jewish Congress on Sept. 17, the first time a Pakistani ruler had ever addressed an audience of American Jews.
Yet it was not until Oct. 14, six days after Israel had communicated its willingness to help the earthquake victims "in any way possible," that it finally received a formal response. Yes, aid from Israel would be welcome, provided it was laundered through a third party. "We have established the president's relief fund, and everyone is free to contribute to it," a government spokeswoman coolly acknowledged. "If Israel was to contribute -- that's fine, we would accept it." Israel could help save Pakistani lives, in other words, as long as it wasn't too public about doing so. There mustn't be any embarrassing images of planes with Israeli markings offloading relief supplies at Islamabad's airport.
And no one should imagine that Israel's generosity toward a nation that has long been among its harshest critics and in which antisemitism is rampant would have any effect on Islamabad's thinking. According to the Daily Times, a Pakistani newspaper, the spokeswoman insisted that "accepting an indirect donation from Israel did not mean that Pakistan had planned to recognize it" or to alter its stance toward Israel, "which was unchangeable."
Israel will not criticize Pakistan's insulting behavior, preferring to understand it as a reality of Pakistani domestic politics. For Musharraf, a diplomat in the Israeli Foreign Ministry told me, "the number one priority is regime survival" -- and any regime that failed to treat the Jewish state with the appropriate level of contempt would outrage Pakistani public opinion.
But that loathing of Israel and Jews is not just a quirk of Pakistani politics. It is a hallmark of the radical Islamists whose terrorism worldwide has shed so much blood -- and who hold sway over more than 70 percent of Pakistan, according to Tashbih Sayyed, editor of the weekly newspaper Pakistan Today. An outspoken Muslim moderate, Sayyed sees Musharraf's recent overtures toward Israel as a feint -- an insincere tactic intended to impress Washington.
"That is why he has done nothing to challenge the way Jews and Israel are portrayed by the Islamists -- as demons, as an evil force," he argues. Many Pakistanis would welcome a genuine effort from the top to combat the radicals' hatred and lies but are not brave enough to fight them on their own. And so the Islamists go on spreading their lethal ideology.
And that, writ large, is the problem at the core of the war on terrorism. "The Muslim world is plunged into an abyss of darkness, antimodernity, anti-Americanism, and anti-Semitism," Sayyed says. Only a minority of Muslims are personally hateful or fanatic. But a minority can wreak enormous damage when the majority is unwilling to act.
Buster's Comment
Can you imagine Israel accepting assistance from the Iranians, or the Fatah, or the Palestinians, or the Saudis?
This is just another self-righteous attack on a Muslim nation that proves nothing. What would be wrong with Israel making a cash donation to The Red Cross -- or an anonymous donation to the Red Crescent--if Israel truly wanted to be charitable?
It's too bad that politics prevents acts of good will, but don't think for a moment that Israel wouldn't act the same way.
In fact, don't you remember that Castro offered Cuban Doctors during the Katrina debacle and President Bush turned him down, rather than take the opportunity to begin to establish relations?
It's just a sad political reality. And it proves nothing.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
In 1944 I was a six year old sitting beside my Dad in his Oldsmobile as we drove down Ingraham Street in Brooklyn. A few weeks before I had asked him about the Gold Star banners that were hung, like shades, in many of the windows of the tenements that we passed. He explained what they meant, but promised me that Brother Joe would be okay.
But now, as we passed them again, two weeks later, I realized for the first time the overwhelming enormity that they signified for the mothers and dads who sat behind them; and I doubted my father for the first time. I wondered how could he promise me that nothing would happen to Brother Joe?
I hoped that nothing would happen to him -- but I knew that even my Dad couldn't protect him.
In 1944 I was a six year old sitting beside my Dad in his Oldsmobile as we drove down Ingraham Street in Brooklyn. A few weeks before I had asked him about the Gold Star banners that were hung, like shades, in many of the windows of the tenements that we passed. He explained what they meant, but promised me that Brother Joe would be okay.
But now, as we passed them again, two weeks later, I realized for the first time the overwhelming enormity that they signified for the mothers and dads who sat behind them; and I doubted my father for the first time. I wondered how could he promise me that nothing would happen to Brother Joe?
I hoped that nothing would happen to him -- but I knew that even my Dad couldn't protect him.
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
The meaning of our life is not within the material things that we leave to our heirs.
M. Gross
The meaning of our life is not within the material things that we leave to our heirs.
M. Gross
Sunday, October 02, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
The challenge of modernity is to live without illusions and without becoming disillusioned.
Antonio Gramsci
The challenge of modernity is to live without illusions and without becoming disillusioned.
Antonio Gramsci
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Dear Son,,
You can’t engage May in argument. She is too rigid to see any other side but her own and so it’s a waste of time and energy to try.
All that you can do is point out the benefits that will make Carli's life better. Every child needs their father. Keeping you away from Carli hurts Carli as much as it hurts you. May’s motivation is to hurt you even though she must know that Carli gets bruised at the same time. Doesn’t she care? My guess is that right now she doesn’t care. She is striking out at you because she is hurt. She hasn’t yet been able to disentangle herself from you. She can’t be objective. She is angry. Perhaps she has always been angry. I don’t know—I’m not a psychologist.
The important thing is to fulfill Carli's needs to the greatest extent possible. That is only possible with two cooperating parents. Carli needs the unconditional love that I am sure May gives to her. And Carli needs that unconditional love that you give to her. Carli needs both of you.
My friend “Tiger” had a “cooperating” divorce. Neither parent ever ‘bad-mouthed” the other. They each behaved politely to each other. The children were told only that their parents had the utmost respect for each other. And most important, neither parent was ever disrespected in front of the children. Although any divorce is always a tragedy for the children, in this one damage to the children was kept to the minimum.
On the other hand, another friend, Keith, and his wife were constantly at each other’s throats. The children were kept in a constant state of anxiety and stress. Almost immediately little Peter developed asthma, and the older girl – I can’t think of her name right now, became promiscuous and hugely fat. One of her boyfriends was a black drug dealer with a snake tattooed on his arm. Gross bailed him out once or twice.
I don’t know how things turned out for his daughter and son because I lost touch with Keith, but I can’t imagine that they turned out well. Furthermore, Keith’s wife never got her life on track. Instead of moving on to a new life her bitterness tied her irrevocably to her conception of what a bastard she thought Keith had been. I do not speak for Keith – he may not have been the perfect husband, perhaps a divorce was right for the marriage – but even after the divorce his wife never actually escaped the marriage -- and the children suffered.
I don’t know whether you remember the ex-wife of Harry Sternberg. Remember her? Her arms bent by the weight of too many gold bracelets. Constantly smoking, her face full of lines, her eyebrows always furrowed because all she could think of was hate. She couldn’t let go. She had more money that she could spend in a lifetime, but gave all her energy to hating Harry and she made everyone around her miserable. She died rich, skinny and very, very unhappy. She could have had a new life, she could have re-married, or lived with someone—but she wouldn’t let go of her hatred for Harry. Ironically her children buried her next to Harry and his mistress! I think they resented the miserableness, the hatred, which she forced on everyone around her. So they finally got even by burying her next to the woman who made her husband happy for the last years of his life.
One of the wisest things that Ruben ever said to me was that “no one can ever win an argument with William Fish.” What did he mean by that? Fish is a stubborn man who thinks that only his opinion can be right. To him, there are only his facts and they are never in doubt. No one can ever pierce his certitude. Certainty of that type should be added to the list of the seven deadly sins.
I must digress: here’s the list:
Seven Deadly Sins:
Lust
Envy
Sloth (Laziness)
Pride
Wrath (Anger)
Greed
Gluttony
I admit to each of them… But I’m working on them.
The greatest threat to civility—and ultimately to civilization—is an excess of certitude. The greatest threat to civility—and ultimately to civilization—is an excess of certitude.
Certitude
“One of the most constant characteristics of men of beliefs is their intolerance. The stronger the belief, the greater its intolerance. Men (or women) dominated by a certitude cannot tolerate those who do not accept it.”
Gustave Le Bon
End of digression.
I think that this is what you are dealing with. I don’t know how you will emerge but I have confidence in you. No matter what May thinks I know you to be fair, just, and most important, objective.
Keep bouncing with the blows, and keep your eye on the ball. You don’t have to justify your life to May. Likewise, you don’t have to answer every contention that she makes.
And, dear son, for that matter May doesn’t have to justify her life to you either. You’ve chosen new paths. Take them. Explore them. Don’t look back.
In the end, it’s all about three things: Carli, Carli, and Carli. (And by the way, how does Brenda fit into all of this? You have to excuse her if she is siding with her mother—its only to be expected—and you have to know how hard it must be for her to have lost two Dads. And mark this, Son, you were (are?) her Dad too. It was you who brought her up…I think that time will cure any rift that might have grown between you two.)
The human capacity for self-delusion is limitless. Everyone has seen people who claim to be right and who do evil things in its name. No one is immune from this phenomenon. Understand that whether justified or not, May is hurt and is rationalizing some of her actions by her misperceptions of what she thinks occurred during the time you were together. She’s pathetically striking out blindly. She’s wounded. And the longer she persists, the deeper into her pain she will get. She won’t let the wound heal. She keeps picking at the scab.
Her repeated acts of anger only engender more anger. Her conscience has clouded and her judgment corrupted.
She's trapped. She can't allow herself to let go. She can't move on to better things. Feel sorry for her, my son, —and move on.
Love,
Dad
Dear Son,,
You can’t engage May in argument. She is too rigid to see any other side but her own and so it’s a waste of time and energy to try.
All that you can do is point out the benefits that will make Carli's life better. Every child needs their father. Keeping you away from Carli hurts Carli as much as it hurts you. May’s motivation is to hurt you even though she must know that Carli gets bruised at the same time. Doesn’t she care? My guess is that right now she doesn’t care. She is striking out at you because she is hurt. She hasn’t yet been able to disentangle herself from you. She can’t be objective. She is angry. Perhaps she has always been angry. I don’t know—I’m not a psychologist.
The important thing is to fulfill Carli's needs to the greatest extent possible. That is only possible with two cooperating parents. Carli needs the unconditional love that I am sure May gives to her. And Carli needs that unconditional love that you give to her. Carli needs both of you.
My friend “Tiger” had a “cooperating” divorce. Neither parent ever ‘bad-mouthed” the other. They each behaved politely to each other. The children were told only that their parents had the utmost respect for each other. And most important, neither parent was ever disrespected in front of the children. Although any divorce is always a tragedy for the children, in this one damage to the children was kept to the minimum.
On the other hand, another friend, Keith, and his wife were constantly at each other’s throats. The children were kept in a constant state of anxiety and stress. Almost immediately little Peter developed asthma, and the older girl – I can’t think of her name right now, became promiscuous and hugely fat. One of her boyfriends was a black drug dealer with a snake tattooed on his arm. Gross bailed him out once or twice.
I don’t know how things turned out for his daughter and son because I lost touch with Keith, but I can’t imagine that they turned out well. Furthermore, Keith’s wife never got her life on track. Instead of moving on to a new life her bitterness tied her irrevocably to her conception of what a bastard she thought Keith had been. I do not speak for Keith – he may not have been the perfect husband, perhaps a divorce was right for the marriage – but even after the divorce his wife never actually escaped the marriage -- and the children suffered.
I don’t know whether you remember the ex-wife of Harry Sternberg. Remember her? Her arms bent by the weight of too many gold bracelets. Constantly smoking, her face full of lines, her eyebrows always furrowed because all she could think of was hate. She couldn’t let go. She had more money that she could spend in a lifetime, but gave all her energy to hating Harry and she made everyone around her miserable. She died rich, skinny and very, very unhappy. She could have had a new life, she could have re-married, or lived with someone—but she wouldn’t let go of her hatred for Harry. Ironically her children buried her next to Harry and his mistress! I think they resented the miserableness, the hatred, which she forced on everyone around her. So they finally got even by burying her next to the woman who made her husband happy for the last years of his life.
One of the wisest things that Ruben ever said to me was that “no one can ever win an argument with William Fish.” What did he mean by that? Fish is a stubborn man who thinks that only his opinion can be right. To him, there are only his facts and they are never in doubt. No one can ever pierce his certitude. Certainty of that type should be added to the list of the seven deadly sins.
I must digress: here’s the list:
Seven Deadly Sins:
Lust
Envy
Sloth (Laziness)
Pride
Wrath (Anger)
Greed
Gluttony
I admit to each of them… But I’m working on them.
The greatest threat to civility—and ultimately to civilization—is an excess of certitude. The greatest threat to civility—and ultimately to civilization—is an excess of certitude.
Certitude
“One of the most constant characteristics of men of beliefs is their intolerance. The stronger the belief, the greater its intolerance. Men (or women) dominated by a certitude cannot tolerate those who do not accept it.”
Gustave Le Bon
End of digression.
I think that this is what you are dealing with. I don’t know how you will emerge but I have confidence in you. No matter what May thinks I know you to be fair, just, and most important, objective.
Keep bouncing with the blows, and keep your eye on the ball. You don’t have to justify your life to May. Likewise, you don’t have to answer every contention that she makes.
And, dear son, for that matter May doesn’t have to justify her life to you either. You’ve chosen new paths. Take them. Explore them. Don’t look back.
In the end, it’s all about three things: Carli, Carli, and Carli. (And by the way, how does Brenda fit into all of this? You have to excuse her if she is siding with her mother—its only to be expected—and you have to know how hard it must be for her to have lost two Dads. And mark this, Son, you were (are?) her Dad too. It was you who brought her up…I think that time will cure any rift that might have grown between you two.)
The human capacity for self-delusion is limitless. Everyone has seen people who claim to be right and who do evil things in its name. No one is immune from this phenomenon. Understand that whether justified or not, May is hurt and is rationalizing some of her actions by her misperceptions of what she thinks occurred during the time you were together. She’s pathetically striking out blindly. She’s wounded. And the longer she persists, the deeper into her pain she will get. She won’t let the wound heal. She keeps picking at the scab.
Her repeated acts of anger only engender more anger. Her conscience has clouded and her judgment corrupted.
She's trapped. She can't allow herself to let go. She can't move on to better things. Feel sorry for her, my son, —and move on.
Love,
Dad
Thursday, September 22, 2005
BusterStronghart@Gmail.com
Hope
It's human nature to be optimistic. It's human nature to hope. Furthermore, hope is a component of a healthy state of mind. Hope is the opposite of negativity. Negativity in life can lead to anger, disappointment and depression. After all, if the world is a negative place, what's the point of living in it? To be negative is to be anti-life.
Ironically, it doesn't work that way in the stock market. In the stock market hope is a hindrance, not a help. Once you take a position in a stock, you obviously want that stock to advance. But if the stock that you bought is a real value, and you bought it right -- you should be content to sit with that stock in the knowledge that over time its value will out without your help, without your hoping.
So in the case of this stock, you have value on your side -- and all you need is patience. In the end, your patience will pay off with a higher price for your stock. Hope shouldn't play any part in this process. You don't need hope, because you bought the stock when it was a great value, and you bought it at the right time.
Any time you find yourself hoping in this business, the odds are that you are on the wrong path -- or that you did something stupid that should be corrected.
unfortunately hope is a money-loser in the investment business. This is counter-intuitive but true. Hope will keep you riding a stock that is headed down. Hope will keep you from taking a small loss and instead, allowing that small loss to develop into a large loss.
In the stock market hope get in the way of reality, hope gets in the way of common sense. One of the first rules in investing is "Don't take the big loss." In order to do that, you've got to be willing to take a small loss.
If the stock market turns bearish, and you're staying put with your whole position. and you're HOPING that what you see is not really happening. And then welcome to poverty city. In this situation, all your hoping isn't going to save you or make you a penny. In fact, in this situation hoping is the devil that bids you to sit -- while your portfolio of stocks goes down the drain.
In the investing business my suggestion is that you avoid hope. Forget the siren, hope -- instead embrace cold, clear reality. RR
Hope
It's human nature to be optimistic. It's human nature to hope. Furthermore, hope is a component of a healthy state of mind. Hope is the opposite of negativity. Negativity in life can lead to anger, disappointment and depression. After all, if the world is a negative place, what's the point of living in it? To be negative is to be anti-life.
Ironically, it doesn't work that way in the stock market. In the stock market hope is a hindrance, not a help. Once you take a position in a stock, you obviously want that stock to advance. But if the stock that you bought is a real value, and you bought it right -- you should be content to sit with that stock in the knowledge that over time its value will out without your help, without your hoping.
So in the case of this stock, you have value on your side -- and all you need is patience. In the end, your patience will pay off with a higher price for your stock. Hope shouldn't play any part in this process. You don't need hope, because you bought the stock when it was a great value, and you bought it at the right time.
Any time you find yourself hoping in this business, the odds are that you are on the wrong path -- or that you did something stupid that should be corrected.
unfortunately hope is a money-loser in the investment business. This is counter-intuitive but true. Hope will keep you riding a stock that is headed down. Hope will keep you from taking a small loss and instead, allowing that small loss to develop into a large loss.
In the stock market hope get in the way of reality, hope gets in the way of common sense. One of the first rules in investing is "Don't take the big loss." In order to do that, you've got to be willing to take a small loss.
If the stock market turns bearish, and you're staying put with your whole position. and you're HOPING that what you see is not really happening. And then welcome to poverty city. In this situation, all your hoping isn't going to save you or make you a penny. In fact, in this situation hoping is the devil that bids you to sit -- while your portfolio of stocks goes down the drain.
In the investing business my suggestion is that you avoid hope. Forget the siren, hope -- instead embrace cold, clear reality. RR
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)