Sasquatch Lives

We like to think that when our time on earth is up, we'll be remembered for our good deeds and notable achievements.

I like to think that as well. But - as I recently discovered - a clear early contender in the "things people will remember most about Peter" contest is a coat.

It's not just any coat. It was a winter coat I bought at the Burlington Coat Factory in anticipation of another cold Ithaca winter at Cornell. It had, as you can see above, a rather distinctive look.

In my defense ... ah, forget it. There is no defense. I just liked the coat. It kept me warm. And I acquired a new nickname in the process - at least when I wore the coat: Sasquatch.

I loved that coat. It was warm. It had lots of pockets. And it amused untold dozens of my Cornell classmates.

Eventually, the coat wore out and was discarded. (There's no truth to the rumor that it got up and left one night to return to its former home deep in the woods ...) I forgot about it and went on to more traditional forms of winter wear that weren't quite as distinctive but certainly invited less abuse.

Recently, I was digging up old pictures to scan for Facebook and came across one of me wearing Sasquatch. I figured if any picture was a "must-post", that was it. So I did.

Not 20 seconds had gone by since I'd clicked "save" when I got an IM from a college friend: "OMG!!!! The coat!!!".

A few dozen comments later, it came to me. My defining moment had been in the books for 30 years, and I'd never realized it. Even my current group of friends and co-workers took the opportunity to comment on Sasquatch. I enjoyed all the comments - even the semi-abusive ones (all in good fun, of course).

I hope, of course, to have a few more memorable accomplishments. But for now, it appears that having owned Sasquatch is at or near the top of the list. You know, I just noticed my current winter coat has a few rips in it ...

The Sheep Toss And Other Fun Facebook Activities

Let me admit something right up front: I love Facebook.

I love that it puts me in touch with old friends. I love that it lets me know what my current group of friends is doing. Even if some insist on updating their status about 20 times a day. I find that more amusing than annoying. "Joe Smith is leaving the house. Joe Smith has left the house. Joe Smith has arrived at work. Joe Smith is going to the gym." Me, I probably only update my status about 4-5 times a week. I'm either not that creative, or just not that exciting.

But I have to admit, I've yet to fathom why Facebook asks me to do certain things.

The other day, it suggested that I might want to "throw a sheep at" my wife. We've been married for almost 10 years and have discovered many and varied ways to have fun together. Amazingly enough, the idea of "sheep throwing" has never come up. Not once. Although perhaps I should have "thrown a sheep" at her, since she "twittered" me. I'm still not sure what that means, but apparently it's something good.

It was also suggested to me that I might want to throw a "flaming Tabasco snowball" at a friend. So I did. Hey, the friend threw some sort of ersatz snowball at me first, so it was only fair that I respond in kind.

Today alone, I've been challenged to take a movie quiz, invited to be a "poker buddy", given and received good karma, and been the recipient of a matzah ball.

I'm not really sure how I got involved in all these activities, and I'm not really sure what I actually did, if anything.

But so far, whatever I did do, did not involve a sheep.

Which is usually a good thing.

Financial Markets & Sour Stomachs

"My stomach hurts!"

That memorable quote - one that's stuck with me for the past 21 years - occurred on October 19, 1987, in the midst of the now-infamous crash of '87. It came from my fellow producer/reporter at CBS Radio, Maureen Clark, who crystallized what all of us were feeling as we watched the Dow lose 22% of its value in a single day.

We worked for a daily half-hour show called "Business Update", and it was the first time I experienced that now familiar pit-of-the-stomach feeling about a story I was also trying to cover. I had a Quotron on my desk that displayed the major market averages, plus all the stocks I owned, on one screen. All during the bull market that preceded the crash, I happily watched while most of those investments went nowhere but up.

However, this day, the screen was red. Very red. I was watching my net worth disappear while trying to interview people and write and voice stories for that day's show. It was a struggle, but we got through it, and put on an excellent show on a day when suddenly, EVERYONE cared about business and financial news.

I've thought about that day quite a bit these past few weeks, as we face what's arguably the most severe financial crisis in decades. Everyone at CNBC - both on air and off - felt an enormous weight of responsibility. This was no longer a business and financial story. It was THE story. And - it's fair to say that - although I didn't poll each and every one of my CNBC co-workers - we all had that pit-of-the-stomach feeling to some degree. In my not-so-impartial opinion, that makes the kickass job we did even more impressive.

CNBC employees can't invest in individual stocks (except for parent company GE), but I can guarantee you that we were all feeling that sick feeling while watching the value of our 401Ks and various mutual fund investments sink.

Being an eternal optimist (one of my co-workers once called me a financial "Pollyanna", a description I gladly accept), I believe many will look back at this period and say "why didn't I buy XYZ then?" Arguments over the details of the bailout aside, we WILL get through this. It may take a very long time, but we will.

Until then, however, my stomach still hurts.

Hail and Farewell, Yankee Stadium

Yes, a blog bidding farewell to Yankee Stadium will not win the "Most Original Idea For A Blog" sweepstakes this week. But since my last blog before this detailed my memorable last trip ever to Shea Stadium, there's kind of a nice synergy here.

My wife, Peri, and I were lucky enough to be invited to the last game ever at Yankee Stadium last night. (Thanks to my friend of 34 years, Keith Olbermann, for inviting us. You're a good man, KO!). It was a happy and uplifting experience, and - to my surprise - not the least bit sad.

That's because it really is all about the moments and memories. Yankee Stadium is beautiful when you're already sitting in your seat, staring out at the lush green field. If you're on your way TO the Stadium, or in its halls, walkways, and concession areas, not so much. To call it a "pit" wouldn't be inaccurate.

Also, it's been well documented elsewhere that THIS is not the Yankee Stadium of Babe Ruth, Joe DiMaggio and Mickey Mantle, most recently by Tom Verducci in Sports Illustrated.

My most memorable moments occurred in the now long-dead Yankee Stadium, the one with the poles obstructing the views from the reserved seats, the one with the original steel facade lining the top of the upper deck. That's where I saw my first Yankee game in May of 1967 with my grandfather. And that's where I had MY most memorable in-person moment.

It was Memorial Day, 1968. The once-great Mickey Mantle was in his final year as a Yankee, a shadow of his former self, but still a favorite of the fans and one very enthusiastic 12-year old fan - me.

The Yankees played the Washington Senators in a doubleheader (remember those?) and for one day, Mickey was 25 again. In game one, he went 5-for-5 with two tremendous home runs into the upper deck in right field. I'd never heard a crowd roar that loud in my life. The Yankees won that game 13-4, and although they lost the second game, that's still the game that stands out in my mind as a personal favorite.

I'm told by people in the know (OK, it was KO)that when people walk into the new Yankee Stadium, they'll rediscover the OLD Yankee Stadium. KO says while the Mets went for "functional" with Citifield, the Yankees went for "iconic", and nailed it. I'll be looking forward to returning to the Yankee Stadium of my youth next season. With much cleaner bathrooms!

My Brush With Beatle Greatness

With six words, Billy Joel gave about 60,000 Shea Stadium fans the thrill of a lifetime last night: "Ladies and gentlemen, Sir Paul McCartney!"

Not since Mookie's grounder went through Buckner's legs has Shea Stadium been as loud or shook as hard as it did last night.

It was Billy Joel's "Last Play At Shea" - the second of two concerts designed to give Shea, which is closing at year's end, its musical sendoff.

We knew there would be "special musical guests" - the names had been leaked, so everyone knew that Tony Bennett, Garth Brooks, Steven Tyler, and Roger Daltrey would all come on for one song at some point. They did, and they were terrific.

But when Billy came back for an encore - and everyone was expecting to hear the opening notes to "Piano Man" - he threw one of the best curveballs in the history of Shea Stadium: "Ladies and gentlemen, Sir Paul McCartney!".

When they began to play "I Saw Her Standing There", I nearly wept. Yes, I know, if you're not of a certain age, that reaction seems ridiculous. I am. And it's not. And when he came out again and played "Let It Be" - there were some dry eyes in the house, but I didn't see them.

I watched the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I bought every album. My sister was a member of their fan club. In short: I did (and do) love the Beatles. Obviously, I'm a little late on the idea of ever seeing them live. But I came damn close last night!

So thanks to Billy Joel - a terrific musician and performer who gladly upstaged himself to bring Sir Paul on. And give Beatle fans like me the thrill of a lifetime.

Caught Up In The Gadgetry

The gadgeteers finally got me.

As much as I like and admire the wonders of modern electronics, I'm not what you'd call an early adopter. I'm the type of person who hears about something neat and useful, then waits for all the early bugs to be worked out. Then, if I determine it's something I might want, I go out and buy the second version. Or third. Or fourth. Or maybe never.

This especially applies to mobile phones. iPhones? Don't have one. Don't want one. Nothing against Apple or others, but I have a standard line that I use when someone shows me their spiffy new smart phone. I take my phone, point to it, and say "you know what this one can do?" My audience waits in breathless anticipation of the answer, and then I finally say, after sufficient pause .. "It makes phone calls!!".

This attempt at comedy gets varied reactions, but I really have only used my phone for one purpose: to make calls.

Until this week.

Our family is on Verizon's "New Every Two" plan, whose main feature is that two of the words in the title rhyme, but also lets you have a new phone for free (or a discount) after two years. (Actually, they just changed it to 20 months, but that didn't rhyme, so they kept "new every two" as the slogan ..)

My wife and I both picked out very nice new (free) phones that work just fine. And so, I thought I was ready for another two years (or 20 months) of saying "Hey look! This phone makes calls!"

But then, I discovered a new mind-boggling feature: if a song is playing in the nearby vicinity and you press a certain button, the phone listens to the song and then tells you what song it is! Then, of course, it offers you the opportunity to buy the song and/or a matching ringtone. But you don't have to do that - the song ID feature is free.

They got me. I'm totally obsessed with this.

I've been identifying songs off my computer, off loudspeakers, off car radios, off anywhere that has a song since I got it. I don't know why this has hooked me, other than that I like music, and I love marketing ideas that are so damn clever you don't even mind that the purveyor is trying to sell you something.

So, the last few days, in the midst of the hoopla over the new iPhone, I've been taking my Motorola out and waving it around as usual. But no longer am I touting the virtues of a phone that makes phone calls. Now it's all about identifying songs!

Oh yeah, it DOES make calls. I think. I haven't made one yet. I've been too busy seeing if my phone really can tell "I Wanna Be Sedated" from "Chances Are".

The Terrifying Torah

There's a venerable old saying that tells us to face our fears as a way of getting over them.

I've been doing just that - or trying to - by doing something that, in the Jewish religion, is considered a mitzvah, or good deed: reading the Torah during religious services.

I'm not talking about picking up the prayer book and reading a few passages, or watching Mel Brooks carry the Ten Commandments down the mountain during the hilarious "History of the World Part I".

I'm talking about walking up in front of EVERYONE, standing in front of the scroll, and reading - and singing - an entire portion or two. I've done it a few times a year for the past several years, and I still quake in my boots whenever I do.

Imagine standing in front of a crowd reading a book out loud. Not so bad, right? Now imagine that you have to sing the book. A little more difficult. Now imagine that someone took all the vowels out of the words. How's that book looking now? How about, just for fun, we remove all the punctuation and paragraph marks? Did I mention that the letters are all in Hebrew? THAT's what reading Torah is!

If you haven't ever seen a Torah scroll up close, that's pretty much what it looks like. Torahs are written in Hebrew letters with no punctuation or vowels, and worse, many different letters or sounds can look exactly the same in that format. Sheer terror!

And I keep doing it. Willingly! Why? Because relatively few people can, or are willing to try. Because they invented some really neat software to help you learn the various passages. Because it makes you feel terrific when you get up there and do a great job at it. Because it's fun to do something you might have HAD to do as a kid, merely because you WANT to do it. Because it makes you feel part of a service, rather than just an observer. And because my wife does it as well, and when we go up and read consecutive portions, people are really impressed with us. And who wouldn't like that?