Imagine. The U.S. Armed Forces are selling cologne to the public for a profit:  Air Force “Stealth,” Marine Corps “Devil Dog,” and Army ”Patton.”  We discovered this insanity in the Washington Post article http://www.washingtonpost.com/local/the-marine-cologne-strong-with-a-hint-of-military-spirit/2011/09/02/gIQAMSmgAK_story_1.html.  I’m going to sue them. Why aren’t the Services offering Cologne No. 10 For Men instead? It will really make you feel like a man. And it’s far superior for covering up the odors of war.

Today the obituary of Harry Morgan, who played Col. Potter on M*A*S*H, brought back bittersweet memories of that great series, my tour in Vietnam, and Cologne No. 10 for Men.  My novel has frequently been compared to M*A*S*H and Catch 22  – especially the part in Cologne when Wilfred recycles bodies.  Catch 22 takes place during World War II, M*A*S*H during Korea,  and Cologne during Vietnam, and all are satiric in nature.

My song  “Counting Bodies In The Nam” also deals with recycling and counting bodies (see my “Skytroopers” CD www.cdbaby.com/cd/richardmorris]).

Counting Bodies In The Nam 
© Richard A. Morris 2007 

Counting bodies in the Nam 
   to prove that we have won.
So what if we don’t control the land
   and give it right back to Charlie again.
Cause land don’t count at all – just – the bodies.
And we don’t have to kill ‘em to count ‘em, no.
Doo, doo Doo, doo Doo.

Find a body, claim it quick
   in a hamlet or a crick.
In a grave   we’ll dig it up
   and add it to the glorious sum.
To raise our kill ratio
It’s their dead over ours, you know.
The proof that we’re ahead.
As long as we ain’t dead.

Illusion, delusion.
The kill rat tells the truth, we know.
Ten to one says we’re winning, yeah,
Even if all hell is beginning.
Doo, doo Doo, doo Doo.

Counting bodies in the Nam  
   to prove that we have won.
And we don’t really have to kill anyone. 
   Just count ‘em dead and add ‘em up.
We can even count ‘em more than once
‘Cause it’s only the count that counts, you dunce.
Till pacification lets us stop counting
And pacification lets us stop killing.
But there will be no peace until we leave.
Yes, there will be no peace until we leave

Horrific 

The Washington Post front page also reported on the “Hundreds of troops’ ashes put in landfill” (http://www.washingtonpost.com/world/national-security/air-force-dumped-ashes-of-more-troops-in-va-landfill-than-acknowledged/2011/12/07/gIQAT8ybdO_story.html). ”The landfill dumping was concealed from families who had authorized the military to dispose of the remains in a dignified and respectful manner, Air Force officials said.” This is horrible.

But go back. What happened before the remains arrived home? Here’s a story from Cologne No. 10 for Men that is based in reality (unlike many other parts of the book, such as the recycling of bodies, which came straight from my imagination):

Wilfred spent the night worrying, and in the morning they left for security duty at LZ German.

 The men in the platoon they were to relieve were wandering in a trance, each carrying a sandbag. Near the center was a rectangle of sandbags within which some torn and broken bags lay scattered. Not far away three half-full bags, sides wet and red, rested on the ground. Wilfred noticed a platoon sergeant with a bag in his hand looking all around the area. “I’m Lieutenant Carmenghetti. We’re relieving you.”

“You’ll have to wait.”

“What happened?”

“The mortar bunker blew. We’re picking up the pieces.”

“Where’s your C.O.?”

He spread his arms, looked around through a screen of tears, and shrugged. “Out here.” Then he pointed at the three red bags and shook his head.

“How many were killed?”

“Don’t know. Five maybe.”

“Was it incoming?”

“Don’t know. Don’t think so.”

“Need any help?” The sergeant shook his head no.

A deuce-and-a-half pulled up and the sergeant told his men to load the remains. Some were in bags, others in ponchos.

“It’s all yours, Lieutenant,” the sergeant said. Wilfred assigned his squad leaders to different areas and told them to send two men back to help Kaslovski rebuild the mortar bunker….

Wilfred decided to walk back to the perimeter. He was in no hurry to get there. The thought of the bleeding, woven plastic bags was overwhelming…. He walked down a hill on the dusty road past bunkers and tents and gazed at a similar mélange across the little valley in front of him. Then his eye picked out an irregularity—a spot of dark green a few streets back from the main road. Out of curiosity he watched it grow as he came closer. When he neared the bottom of the hill it disappeared behind bunkers and tents. He jogged to the left, drawn down a side street toward the mystery. Then he passed a big tent, and the mass of dark green leaped out and slapped his face. Fifty feet away stood stacks of plastic body bags, two deep, ten high, and twenty or thirty long, each stuffed with the refuse of battle and neatly tagged for shipment.

Are the sacks of flesh from the bunker here yet? Have they sorted it somehow? Shit, no. They got the names and tagged the bags and dumped some in each one. “Hey, Larry. Put a little more in this one, will you? It’s a little bit shy.”

Again the smell of death overcame his cologne and the magnitude overwhelmed him. War’s a giant killing machine. March ‘em in one end, blow ‘em up, grind ‘em up, fill up the tubes, and ship ‘em out. They’re free, everybody. All you pay is your taxes. And the military officers at the doors say, “It is my duty to inform you…”

from Cologne No. 10 For Men
© Richard A. Morris 2007

Rest in Peace.

11 / 10 / 11 – Author Mark Morrison-Reed Visits

Mark Morrison-Reed

Mark, an African-American minister, is author of four books – Black Pioneers in a White Denomination (1984), Been In the Storm So Long (coedited with Jaqui  James), In Between: Memoir of an Integration Baby, and Darkening the Doorways—Black Trailblazers and Missed Opportunities in Unitarian Universalism (2011). In this book of profiles, essays, and archival documents, I had the opportunity to write a chapter on Don Speed Smith Goodloe, the first principal of what is now Bowie State University and the first African-American graduate of Meadville Theological School in Meadville, PA. We learned about Goodloe from Mark’s first book, Black Pioneers in a White Denomination (1984). It was during my subsequent research into Goodloe, that I discovered a report that there were ”lynchings in the area as late as 1907.” Although I was never able to corroborate this statement, it became the seed from which Well Considered grew. We hosted Mark in our home, and he spoke at our church and sold and signed his books.

11 / 11 / 11 – Veterans Day on the National Mall

The Wall on 11-11-11

That day we spent in the Memorial Day Writers’ Project tent near the Vietnam Memorial on the mall.

I did readings from my first novel, Cologne No. 10 For Men, and sang songs from my Skytroopers CD. It was a gorgeous day with a sharp wind, but we enjoyed seeing old friends and making new ones as we honored our country’s veterans.

Jonathan Meyer

Many of the readings were poignant and grieving, but some were light and humorous.

Richard Epstein

Today I sang for the first time at this event my satiric song, “Counting Bodies In The Nam To Prove That We Have Won,”

Holly Watts - Donut Dollie

as well as old standbys, “Diggin’ A Hole,” “The Chaplain” [who has PTSD], and “Bong Son Bridge.”

Jimmy (Tanker) Stewart

You can hear bits of these and order the CD on www.cdBaby.com/cd/richardmorris.

11 / 12 / 11 –  Book and Author Event

Saturday afternoon I was pleased to be one of fifteen authors reading at the Book and Author Event of the Prince George’s County Historical Society (PGCHS). I consider my inclusion to be an unofficial imprimatur of the history I present in my second novel, Well Considered, which is set in this county of former tobacco plantations. At the organizer’s request, I read the passage in the book about my black protagonist, Ron Watkins, struggling for life in the bottom of a well.

The book event particularly celebrated the publication of a new book, Historic Prince George’s: A Confluence of Cultures, written by PGCHS members Donna Schneider, Nathania Branch Miles, and George Denny.

Donna Schneider, Nathania Branch Miles, George Denny

The other books and presenting authors were:

Melissa Avery & Don Lynch

Riverdale Park, Melissa Avery & Don Lynch

Making of African-America: The Four Great Migrations, Ira Berlin

Maxine Gross

Lakeland: African Americans in College Park, Maxine Gross, Diane Ligon, and Violetta Sharps Jones

Sasscer Hill

Full Mortality, Sasscer Hill

Amy Hansen

Bugs and Bugsicles: Insects in the Winter, Amy Hansen

Lillian L. Lambert

The Road to Someplace Better: From the Segregated South to Harvard Business School and Beyond, Lillian L. Lambert

Richard Morris

Well Considered, Richard Morris

Michael Olmert

Kitchens, Smokehouses, and Privies, Michael Olmert

Anthony Pitch

They Have Killed Papa Dead: The Road to Ford’s Theatre, Abraham Lincoln’s Murder, and the Rage For Vengeance, Anthony Pitch

Franklin Robinson, Jr.

‘Bring Your Friends’ : A Brief History of the Chapel of the Incarnation, St. Thomas Episcopal Parish, Brandywine, Prince George’s County, Maryland, Franklin Robinson, Jr.

Beverly Addison, reading for Anne Sasscer

In the Shadow of the Enemy: Civil War Journal of Ida Powell Dulaney, Anne Sasscer

Patricia Sluby

The Entrepreneurial Spirit of African Americans Inventers , Patricia Carter Sluby. [Note: the book pictured is her previous work, The Inventive Spirit of African Americans]

Paul Sluby

Bury Me Deep, Paul Sluby

Patrick Young

Old Abe, Eagle Hero: The Civil War’s Most Famous Mascot, Patrick Young

11 / 13 / 11 –  In our Veterans Day service at church,

I once again sang  “The Chaplain.”

That ends our literary efforts for 2011. On to the new year, 2012, during which I will give birth to a new novel that I am very excited about – a young adult novel set in Cleveland, Ohio, where I had my youth.

Reflections of the Takoma Park Street Festival

This is supposed to be a blog about writing — the process, the products, and the promotion of writing, including songwriting. Writing and promoting my writing take me to some pretty interesting places. However, since my last blog post in August, I have been writing instead of writing about writing! I’m actually making some progress on my third novel and have neglected to blog about venues and connections, including another trip to Cleveland for a high school reunion where I was able to also accomplish some more research and interviews in connection with my novel-in-process. The Takoma Park Street Festival was all that I expected. My new author-friend David Levy, author of Revolt of the Animals https://www.facebook.com/pages/Revolt-of-the-Animals/144361508947470?sk=info, was there. 

David L. Levy, author of Revolt of the Animals

And the crowd did not diminish even with the rain and visitors to my tent were evenly interested in Well Considered and Cologne No. 10 for Men. Some venues seem to be more suited to one book than the other. For example, next week on Veterans Day, at the Memorial Day Writers Project (http://www.memorialdaywritersproject.com/) tent on the mall in D.C. I expect the focus to be on Cologne No. 10 for Men and my Skytroopers CD more than Well Considered. We’ve been spending a lot of time at Busboys and Poets in Hyattsville where a highlight was the dedication ceremony for the Howard Zinn room.

During this time away from blogging I’ve felt connected to items in the news but didn’t stop my writing to make comments. Mr. Obama’s announcement of the end of the Iraq War made me think of my novel Cologne No. 10 for Men, and the fiftieth anniversary of Catch-22 certainly made me want to make connections between it and Cologne – comparisons have been made between the two and it would be good if people who enjoyed reading the World War II novel would also have the opportunity to read the more modern war satire. Neither is really specific to its setting; each is a representation of war in general.

The current population articles in The Washington Post included a story about Prince George’s County, MD,  featuring the demographics and white flight from the county which are part of the story in Well Considered. 

After Veterans Day I have one more event scheduled – The Prince George’s County Historical Society Book and Author Event on November 12, 2011 from 1 to 4 p.m. at the Greenbelt, MD library – before settling in for the winter to finish my new novel.

     Mirage © Richard A. Morris 1968

     First I saw you standing there
With your dark and windy hair
Gazing out upon a lonely blue sea.
Then I shouted through the ocean’s roar and ran to you.
But you vanished like a wave upon the beach.

     Then I saw you in the night
When the glow of city light
Was reflected through a mist upon the street.
But your face became another as I spoke to you,
And another time I tasted bittersweet.

     You are my mirage.
You come and play with me,
Then are gone.
Come back, my mirage.
Run away with me
To the dawn.

     Though we’re half a world apart
There’s a wizard in my heart
That creates you for a moment anywhere.
And my love gets ever stronger at the sight of you
Though you always fade away into thin air.
Come again my sweet mirage.

Go To Sleep © Richard A. Morris 1968

     Go to sleep, little one.
Count your sheep, pretty one.
Daddy’s near, mommy’s near.
Go to sleep.

     Say your prayers, little one.
Your Father cares, pretty one.
Till the dawn, while you’re gone,
He will care.

     Fly away on pillow wings to
little people land,
Where the weeping willow sings and
little kings command

     And when the sun wakes up the day,
Say goodbye, come home to play.
But for now, kiss my brow,
Go to sleep.

The week had started with a visit on Monday to fellow author Roger Skipper’s luthier shop (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGg3ZWDvW40) in Garrett County, MD where we were vacationing and reconnecting with friends from the days when we lived there. I had previously written about Roger in “Maryland Bookends” http://richardmorrisauthor.wordpress.com/2011/03/22/maryland-bookends/. Roger’s engrossing published novels are:  Tear Down the Mountain (2006), The Baptism of Billy Bean (2008), Bone Dogs (2010). In addition to letting us see the shop where he makes mandolins, violins, fiddles, guitars, and banjos, he treated us to a musical selection on his banjo, and Rick and Audrey responded with one on Roger’s guitar.

During the week we finally downloaded the Rick and Audrey performance from when they sang their composition “Heavenly” before an audience of 4400 at a church conference in Charlotte, NC earlier this summer. Although we don’t yet have that performance available to post, you can hear their earlier version at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Sense-of-Wonder/17643445178?sk=app_2405167945 - click on “View More Songs” to select ”Heavenly.” You should know that this earlier version has a 2-minute piano solo prior to the lyrics that you can either enjoy or move the indicator to 02:15 for the lyrics if you’re in a hurry. You remember that Audrey is the illustrator for my novel covers — and Rick worked on that, too.

Other music we followed during the week were the songs posted on Facebook by Franklin Taggart, my guitarist in a box, who accompanies me to all performances (in the boom box!) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xUuNUntewU&feature=share and http://www.franklintaggart.com/. Franklin was also traveling but doing concerts.

Finally, returning from our trip we stopped to visit the Kedzierski family and I had a long-awaited opportunity to hear an exhilarating piano performance by the talented Emeline Kedzierski (“Wedding Day at Troldhaugen” by Edvard Grieg: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkLbzl-jljg&feature=mh_lolz&list=LLECOIYMaoouE ) and to look at her choral and clarinet compositions. Also there was Wendy Kedzierski, Emeline’s mother and managing editor of Valley Homes and Style magazine (see the most recent issue at http://issuu.com/valleyhomesstyle/docs/summer2011), who informed us that Roger Skipper will be appearing in an upcoming issue in an article about luthiers.

…and my family sang Happy Birthday every night.

 

Busboys and Poets - Hyattsville

Hyattsville Patch Video by Sarah Nemeth: http://hyattsville.patch.com/articles/video-authors-break-bread-at-busboys-in-hyattsville#video-7185738

Wall Mural in Community Room

At the new Busboys and Poets restaurant in the Arts District of Hyattsville, Maryland, in the large community room named for historian and activist Howard Zinn, five local Hyattsville authors spoke about their books, all of which help readers think of our global well-being.

Julia Duin

Julia Duin, who writes for the Economist and the Washington Post and was formerly religion editor for the Washington Times for 14 years, talked about her books Quitting Church: Why the Faithful are Fleeing and What to Do About It and Days of Fire and Glory: The Rise and Fall of a Charismatic Community.

David Levy

David Levy read from his fantasy novel Revolt of the Animals, in which the animals of the world fight to save the planet from destruction by humans.

William Loizeaux

William Loizeaux writes and teaches writing at Johns Hopkins University and has written nonfiction books: The Shooting of Rabbit Wells (Little Brown/Arcade) and Anna: A Daughter’s Life, a New York Times Notable Book of 1993. He read from his children’s fiction book, Clarence Cochran, A Human Boy, about a cockroach who changes into a tiny human boy whose cockroach family is threatened with extermination.

Andra Damron

Andra Damron spoke of her book Images of America Hyattsville about Hyattsville throughout its history—how and why it was born and thrived.

Richard Morris

I was last, speaking about my two novels—Cologne No. 10 For Men, a novel set in Vietnam, which Kirkus calls “A funny and serviceable satire about the gross rationalizations that propel war and peace”—and the other, Well Considered, a thriller that deals with racial justice, forgiveness, and reconciliation.

 My reading from Cologne No. 10 For Men was:

 Wilfred spent the day seeing ghosts—bloody sandbags, the stack of body bags, Louis King, the wounded woman, Newcombe, the holes in O’Shaunnessey’s head, the procession of litters, the dancer, performing in the light of Wilfred’s gun. Bodies were piling up all around him now, surreptitiously crawling up and dying. A human trash-dump. Bulldozers heaping them, until he was buried in them. And who would be next? Matfield? Welbourne? Rodriguez? Henry? Reckert? Who?

Words darted through the bodies like rats. Stewart reciting the law: “Thou shalt not kill.” O’Shaunnessey asking: “Who does?” believe in the war. Felicity begging: “Please!!! Don’t kill anyone.” Henry announcing: “I’m done with killing.” Can ordering: “Wilfed no kill Vietnamese.” Reckert censuring: “You let it take you over.” He thought of freedom and democracy and heard the machine-gun clatter of falling dominoes hitting each other, knocking the next to the tabletop. Then he remembered Robert Kennedy’s comment: “We’re killing innocent people because the communists are 12,000 miles away, and they might get 11,000 miles away.” How could that justify the killing?

That night in his hooch the clamor of voices grew higher, and the images of death lashed him relentlessly. He saw artillery rounds disintegrating the village like specks of black falling on cities of children in roaring, exploding storms of fire, pushed out of bomb bays in endless chains by rational men, packs of animals, warring tribes. The Vietnamese woman stared at him. Henry stood by with sullen force while Reckert chided, Stewart preached, and Felicity and Can begged for mercy. Then the leaking face of O’Shaunnessey appeared and grew larger and larger, filling his screen. The holes became hydrants, and his blood gushed out of them with terrible force, flooding the earth, gathering around Wilfred’s feet, bubbling and boiling, rising to his knees, his waist, his chest, his—

“Noooo!” he screamed, and he sat up sweating, shaking, and panting. He turned and reached, fumbled blindly in his pack, pulled out his cologne, tore back the netting, slithered out of the poncho tent, leaped up, ran away, and sent the bottle hurtling into the sky over the camp.  — Cologne No. 10 For Men.

I assured the audience that, in contrast to this passage, much of the book is light and entertaining. Richard Peabody, the editor of Gargoyle Magazine says, “I love the way Wilfred recycles the bodies. That’s fabulous stuff with a direct line to Heller’s Catch-22 and perfectly captures the insanity of the Vietnam War.”

On Well Considered, I explained that the novel is about a man who looks into the 1907 mob murder of his great-grandfather on a Maryland tobacco plantation, and thematically is about justice and forgiveness, racial reconciliation, and people of different races getting to know each other. But it is a thriller. I read them a portion:

Shocked by cold and energized by fear, he pumped his legs. Flailing his arms, gasping for air, he stared blindly into total darkness.

Shit! he thought. How long can I keep this up? If I don’t think of something, I’ll drown down here. And it won’t be long.

Continuing to tread water, he reached out with one hand underwater and touched something hard, rough, rounded, irregular, slippery, in and out.

Stones, he thought, like field stones.

His head slipped under and he came up gasping and coughing. Then he reached again for the stones and let his hand follow their contours.

A curved wall—with a small circumference. It’s a well. I’m in a damned well. And it must have a cover on it because there isn’t any light.

The initial cold shock passed, and his body began to grow numb. He remained breathless. He tried to climb the wall by reaching up and grabbing at rocks with his strong fingers while pushing up with the toes of his running shoes. But the indentations between the stones were slimy and too small for his fingers to take hold. He slipped off and submerged again. Again and again he made the attempt on other parts of the wall—pushing with his toes under water and jumping up and grabbing at a piece of rock with his fingers, only to achieve the same result. He felt like a rat—frantically swimming from side to side, leaping upward and falling back.

Fatigue and claustrophobia surged through him, and his hands thrust against the wall in front of him. He tried desperately to push it away while his back pressed against immovable stone. Then he thrust upward with the heels of his shoes, only to slip down once more under the water. Entombed in a f—ing well, he thought.”

The well in Well Considered. It’s a metaphor representing the past we’re all trying to escape.

Robert Fleming of the African American Literary Book Club says, “Well Considered is a profoundly memorable and affecting novel of an African American man trying to come to grips with the hate-filled past and the poisonous divisive present.” He adds, “Some critics have said white authors cannot capture the soul and passion of African American characters, but that is not the case with Richard Morris’s aptly titled novel.”

Readings of poetry and prose on Thursdays are in addition to the  excellent food served in the restaurant and in the Howard Zinn room where the readings take place (but you don’t have to dine to attend the event).

The rest of the story may be found in my recent blogpost at http://richardmorrisauthor.wordpress.com/2011/07/16/speculation-and-excitement/. Check out http://www.busboysandpoets.com/about.php  to see the Busboys menu and mission statement. You may also see my interview by the online news outlet Patch http://hyattsville.patch.com/articles/hyattsville-author-excited-about-new-busboys.

The location is Busboys @ Hyattsville, 5331 Baltimore Ave., Suite 104, Hyattsville, MD 20781.

• Busboys @ Hyattsville
  5331 Baltimore Ave. Suite 104
  Hyattsville, MD 20781

on Monday 7/18/11 at 4:00 p.m. In our own household these feelings were also at a peak as I have been invited to speak there the following week on Thursday 7/28/11 as part of a local author event, along with authors Julia Duin, David Levy and William Loizeaux.

If you’re not familiar with Busboys be sure to check out their website where you will find a very interesting mission statement http://www.busboysandpoets.com/about.php and a menu tab where you can see what food is offered. I have been assured that our new Busboys @ Hyattsville will offer the same wonderful food we have experienced at the U Street Corridor. So far, our favorites have been: Portobello with pesto, roasted red peppers, fresh mozzarella on herb ciabatta; Catfish with a lemon butter sauce, served with tomatoes, capers, collard greens, and a corn cake; and Shrimp and Grits - sauteed shrimps with asparagus and roasted corn and tomatoes in a Cajun cream sauce served with basil grits cake. If you are one of my usual readers, you know that I have posted a number of times about Busboys and Poets — how we were invited by author James Loewen, went there a week later to hear author/TV newsman Bruce Johnson’s presentation, became friends with children’s author Paula Young Shelton , and were awed by authors Rawn James, Jr., Clarence Lusane, and U.S. Senator Bernie Sanders. (You can use the search button on this blog to find other posts about Busboys and Poets). Additionally, we’ve made new friends at the A.C.T.O.R. (A Continuing Talk on Race) group which meets at BB&P on V Street on the first Sunday of each month.

I’m sure you’ll find us at Busboys @ Hyattsville frequently and hope we’ll see you there on July 28. By the way, if you don’t make it, here’s a book ordering tip: Sometimes at teachingforchange.org and other online webstores, if you can’t find my books (Well Considered and Cologne No. 10 for Men) by only entering the title, try adding “by Richard Morris” to the title to make it come right up!

By June/July 2010, I had published Well Considered and was thinking about writing my next book. This one would be a young adult novel set in the area where I was a young adult, just as my first two books had settings I had personally experienced. I decided to make a research trip to Cleveland/Rocky River, and once again, the end of June/beginning of July was a convenient time frame. After that trip, I wrote my most popular blog post of 2010:  ”A Mallard on the Cuyahoga,” http://richardmorrisauthor.wordpress.com/2010/08/14/a-mallard-on-the-cuyahoga/.

Now in 2011, I needed to return to Cleveland to check some details for the writing I’ve been doing this year. Again the most convenient time was over July 4 and our friends’ anniversary.  In Cleveland, we toured the industrial flats along the Cuyahoga River by car and saw the massive Arcelor-Mittal steel mill (formerly owned by Republic Steel and LTV). Yes, they still make steel in Cleveland. Ore boats two football fields long, sixty feet wide, rising sixty feet or more above the water still ply the curvy Cuyahoga and deliver ore that the mill makes into rolls of sheet steel used to make car bodies and appliances. And despite the heavy industry, this year I saw a great blue heron fishing by the river – the same river on which the Cleveland Rowing Foundation has been holding its Head of the Cuyahoga (HOTC) Regatta since 1996.

Also in Cleveland, we experienced the trendy Tremont part of downtown for the first time, dining on orzo with eggplant, artichokes, and hearts of palm, and then drove by the Christmas Story House — you know, “The Christmas Story” — not the Biblical one, but the one that runs 24 hours a day on television at Christmas time, when we get to plead, “Don’t put your tongue on the flagpole!”  and “You’re going to shoot your eye out.” Downtown we climbed all over the William G. Mather ore freighter surrounded by breath-taking views of Lake Erie and the lakefront development– Great Lakes Science Museum, I.M. Pei’s stunning Rock and Roll Hall of Fame structure, Cleveland Browns Stadium, etc., with the Cleveland skyline in the background. All along the lake were marinas filled with thousands of pleasure boats. Sailboats raced on the lake. Seagulls flew everywhere, squealing, squawking and laughing. Edgewater Park and Wendy Park downtown bounced with young picnickers, and woodsy Rocky River Reservation was full of bikers and joggers. Cleveland is one of America’s beautiful, lively cities.