Mrs. Kennedy and Mr. Hill

Published May 7, 2012 by monicastangledweb

There are certain moments in your life that are forever seared on your psyche. Like September 11th. Even now, you can see these recollections clearly, recalling the emotions you were feeling at the time.

For my generation, such a memory will always be JFK in Dallas on November 22, 1963, played over and over again in a loop that starts out the same, but just once, you wish the ending could turn out differently.

I was in grade school that day, having spent the three years prior in a family that revered all things Kennedy. Growing up in a Roman Catholic family, albeit Latino, not Irish, we felt as if the Kennedy’s were our kindred spirits. Caroline was about my age and I loved watching her and John-John play in the Oval Office, hiding under their father’s desk, smiling coyly for the camera.  And, my family could be entertained for hours, gathered around the Hi-Fi, listening to Vaughn Meader’s The First Family, a best-selling comedy album that parodied the Kennedy Family, yet was retired by most and taken off the market after the assassination.

I recently had the opportunity to attend an author event for the newly-released memoir, Mrs. Kennedy and Me.  The book, written by Clint Hill, one of two Secret Service agents assigned to First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy’s detail, as well as award-winning journalist, Lisa McCubbin, chronicles the four years Mr. Hill spent with Mrs. Kennedy, beginning just before President Kennedy’s inauguration.

Looking around at the 100 or so people in attendance, I could tell I wasn’t the only one in the room who remembered where they were when JFK was assassinated.  As Mr. Hill spoke, we hung on every word. We were children again, reliving the memories of our youth, gathered around someone even closer to the events than the proximity we claimed as eyewitnesses to the events that unfolded on TV.

Here’s some of what I learned during his hour-long, captivating talk:

Prior to protecting Mrs. Kennedy, Mr. Hill was assigned to President Eisenhower. He expected that his next assignment would be protecting President Kennedy, and was profoundly disappointed when he learned he’d be assigned to the First Lady.

Clint Hill shares his stories of his years with First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy.

He spent the holidays leading up to the inauguration of 1961, in Palm Beach, Florida with the Kennedy family and planned to return to Washington, in time for the inauguration. However, the president elect asked Mr. Hill to stay behind with Caroline, who was just three at the time, too young to attend her father’s inauguration. Mr. Hill had no choice but to watch it on TV, and though he tried to explain to Caroline what was going on, she wasn’t interested, preferring instead to play with her paper dolls.

During an unofficial trip to Greece with the First Lady, JFK made it clear that under no circumstances was Mrs. Kennedy to cross paths with Aristotle Onassis. Apparently, the president didn’t want any photographs of the two of them to end up in the press, as Onassis was having some trouble with the US government at the time.

During a vacation, in early 1963, Mr. Hill was working round the clock. When he finally got a chance to return to his hotel room for much-needed sleep, Mrs. Kennedy called him and asked him to return because her sister’s husband, Prince Radziwill, wanted to go on a 50-mile hike. Mr. Hill had to delay his nap and go along, despite not having the appropriate clothing for hiking in, and only his dress shoes to wear.

In the summer of 1963, Mrs. Kennedy gave birth five weeks early to a boy, Patrick. He had to be put in an incubator, and died soon after. In order to help her recover from the loss, that October, Mrs. Kennedy joined her sister, Lee and some close friends for a stay in Greece aboard a private yacht belonging to, you guessed it, Onassis. This time, they did meet.

Mrs. Kennedy returned from the trip ready to help her husband with his re-election campaign. On the morning of the assassination, they breakfasted in Ft. Worth. Then, got ready for the motorcade in Dallas.  You know what happened there.

Through the course of the evening, Mr. Hill shared his stories and anecdotes with candor and love for Mrs. Kennedy. As he got closer to talking about THE date, you could feel the pulses in the room quicken. Nobody said a word. We listened intently, barely blinking, and soon I was overcome with a sense of dread and overwhelming sorrow.

Secret Service agent Clint Hill climbs onto the back of the President’s limo.

Mr. Hill described in great detail the events as he recalled them. How he was the only secret service agent whose vantage point allowed him to see the president slump over after the first shot. How he jumped out of the car he was in and climbed onto the back of the limo the Kennedy’s were riding in. How he could immediately see the gravity of the injury and how his only thought was to use his body to shield the Kennedy’s from further harm. How Mrs. Kennedy had blood on her gloves and suit. How the shots rang out, one after another. He didn’t even notice that the Texas governor had also been hit.

Clint Hill and Lisa McCubbin during the book signing.

That, when they arranged for coffin to transport the president back to Washington, no one anticipated it would be too wide to fit through the door of Air Force One. So the handles had to be removed.  How, he had little time to sleep during the ensuing days, and how he still agonizes over the guilt of not being able to do more.

And how he never returned to Dallas until 1991 when he entered the Texas School Book Depository building for the first time and was able to see how easy it was for a lone gunman to shoot to kill.

And when he finished speaking, a woman in the audience, with tears welling in her eyes,  much like the rest of us, stood up and asked,

“Mr. Hill, did you realize that the whole country shut down for those four days?”

He paused for a moment, trying to compose himself. Then said, “No, I didn’t know.”

In that moment, not a sound was heard. Just one collective memory and one shared sorrow. As if we were all in it together. And, maybe, we were.

Henry: The Game’s Afoot!

Published May 4, 2012 by henrythebrave

While most know me as a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, who descends from royalty, I’m also somewhat of a detective enthusiast, having cut my teeth on the stories and lore of Detective Sherlock Holmes.

According to Cook, Basil Rathbone set the gold standard for portrayals of Sherlock Holmes, back in the 1930′s.

Now, Cook says when it comes to Sherlock Holmes, there is no better actor at portraying him in the cinema than Basil Rathbone. But I think, if they ever make an all-canine version, there would be no one better than yours truly.

For, I am Sherlock to a T!

Which is why I enjoy going on my constitutionals, where I am able to solve crimes of my own. After all, there’s always a mystery afoot!

Today, for example, I noticed a bush with some suspicious activity.  It appeared to be missing some leaves, and berries.  Wait. Oh crikey, almost forgot. Twas I that ate the berries, and mighty fine, too.

But, I’ve no idea what caused the bush to shed its leaves? No doubt, the result of that maniacal dog that resides next door! It once had me in its clutches, but I, clever dog that I am, managed to escape–with barely my life!

Surely, he purloined them, but for what? Wait. Cook says it wasn’t the dog, but rather, the wind that blew the leaves off. Of course. I knew that all along!

Well, carry on then, Cook. Ah! Here we go. I see one of those beastly rabbits that I often spy at night, hopping out from the shadows—determined to frighten the innocent and royals like me. And this one just gave me the evil eye. Up to no good, I say. Clearly, this rabbit is in search of unsuspecting nobility to lure into its lair, and demand a king’s ransom.

Must investigate further. With nose in position, I cautiously inch closer to the shrub from which the rabbit leaped. Sniff, sniff. Friends, the nose never lies! I suspect a dog has been here, likely held hostage by this cunning bunny.

Cook is rather fond of this new, modern version of “Sherlock,” from the BBC. The second season debuts on PBS’ “Masterpiece” on May 6th. Cook says you should check your local listings for times.

Wait! Sniff, sniff.  Not one dog, mind you, but two! Another sniff and I’ll be able to tell you their breeds.

Sniff, sniff. I’m about to decipher the scent, but—wait! Cook is pulling me away! Confounded, woman! Damn you, leash!

I’m afraid Cook is rather impatient. She knows detective work takes time. Yet, she barely gives me two minutes before she pulls me away. And, though I staunchly dig my paws in, determined not to budge, she is a strong woman, and gets the better of me.

I bark, to no avail, for neither the leash, nor Cook, are to be trifled with.  I lose this time, but be fair warned. In the end, the pen is mightier than the sword, which means, I will prevail!

In the meantime, I have no choice but to follow cook. Carry on, then, Cook. I’m sure we’ll find more suspicious activity ahead.

And, soon we do.  There’s a dog—a Labrador from the looks of him—and his valet is tossing a ball at him. Not just any ball, but the best kind—a tennis ball! And, I’ll be damned! That ball is mine! Indeed, I recognize that scent anywhere. The thieves, the guttersnipes! I will stop at nothing to get that tennis ball back. I will run and pounce on it, faster than that Lab any day. His valet is throwing the ball and the game is once again afoot! One leap and it’ll be mine! Here I go—I’m off!

No, wait! Confound it! CURSE YOU, LEASH!!

Well then. That was, ahem, humiliating. And, now we’re leaving the park. I didn’t get the ball, tethered as I am to Cook. But, there’s sure to be danger ahead. For I see something moving through the shrubs by the school for ragamuffins—those wee ones that I often see lollygagging about, who often ask Cook if they can pet me and do so with such grimy hands.

Royals who moonlight as detectives should be exempt from having to wear a leash. Wouldn’t you agree? Rather undignified, I say!

Something is definitely amiss, my friends, as I see the shrubs being jostled about—what can it be? A bloody rabbit? An unsavory squirrel?

Or, could it be my arch nemesis? YES! That’s it. It’s Moriarty, my mortal enemy–disguised as a cat!

So, Professor Moriarty, we meet again.

Moriarty stares me down. Clearly, he is in terror of my presence. I take stock of the situation, the distance between us, and prepare to attack.

Undo my leash, Cook, and let me at him! Wait, what is this? What are you saying, Cook? We cannot leave now! Not when victory is within my reach. Undo me at once, I say, so that I can go after that rapscallion. Dash you, leash!

Wait, Cook, I must attack!

Sigh.

You may have won for now, Moriarty, but just you wait.

I’ll get you next time!

A Word About Words

Published May 1, 2012 by monicastangledweb

I love words. In fact, one could say that, as a writer, I depend on them. For, words are helpful in getting your point across. They’re also good at conveying emotions when looks, alone, aren’t enough. I’ve been noticing, too, that words play a key role in my ever-expanding collection of quotes.

Yes, words are special, despite the fact that they come a dime a dozen and are free to use by anyone with a hankering to speak or write.

Yet, are all words created equal? I think not. For, if you are like most, I’m certain you’ll agree that there are some words you fancy more than others.

Recently, The New Yorker magazine cleverly asked its readers to name a word in the English language that they’d like to see eliminated from the dictionary. The words quickly poured in—everything from “bling” and “swag” to “awesome” and “like.”

Which is why, I’ve decided, rather than focus on words I’d like to see eradicated from the English language (“Tebowing” would be a good start!), I am herewith celebrating the words that I love.

So, a round of applause please for these descriptive words that are, frankly, fun to pronounce:

Tony, as in:  The woman in the silvery stockings and flaming green Bolero jacket, walked confidently, that is, until she slammed into the entrance of the tony nightclub.

Apoplexy, as in: If you tell me one more time that you wish to ride the Matterhorn with my Aunt Viv, I am certain to be struck by a fit of apoplexy.

Conundrum, as in: Whether to go fishing with my cousin, Carl, or hunting with Dick Cheney, is certainly a conundrum.

Lackadaisical, as in:  Newt Gingrich is feeling rather lackadaisical this week, now that he’s quit his presidential run, and plans to wait until next week to begin his latest project–that of colonizing the moon.

Sultry, as in: His intense, sultry gaze aroused in Henrietta a passion that almost allowed her to forgive him for sinking his cuspids into her exquisitely fine neck.

Behoove, as in: It would behoove Jack to think twice about betraying the mob boss, particularly if he had any hopes of keeping his job as a hit man.

Riff-raff, guttersnipes, as in:  Eloise walked gingerly around the riff-raff and guttersnipes playing in the courtyard, in order to let the director know that she was more than ready to bring them in for their naptime.

Discombobulated, as in:  Lupita Davenport was completely discombobulated, for she didn’t know whether to serve her pie, a la mode, or with the ghastly syrup Aunt Bella had brought for the occasion.

Scofflaw, as in:  When Peter Hamilton rushed into the train station, in search of a restroom, he hesitated when he saw one door that read, “Women” and the other “Scofflaws.”  As his debts to society had all been paid, he decisively entered through the door marked, “Women.”

Lilacs, as in: For her Diamond Jubilee, young Henry, who came from royal blood, gathered a bouquet of lilacs for his noble Queen.

Convoluted, as in: The directions to the jailhouse were so convoluted, Kim discarded the idea of visiting her finance, Elvis, and decided she would just wait out the 20-years-to-life sentence he’d received.

Ranunculus, as in: Victor decided he’d pop the question amidst the flower fields, not realizing Kathryn was fatally allergic to the ranunculus, which were in full bloom.

Ne’er-do-well, as in:  Alicia was determined to tell her ne’er-do-well father that dinner was ready.

Flabbergasted, as in:  When Grandma Debbie arrived at the reunion with two leopards in tow, we were all flabbergasted, as no one had realized she was still alive.

Trousers, as in: Detective Nathan was about to finger the murderer at the dinner party, when Joe Knuckles politely asked, “Before you do, would you like to put your trousers back on?”

As for the “winning” word in the New Yorker contest, the word that most felt ought to be forever swiped from the English vocabulary? The answer is:

“Moist,” as in, pass me a slice of that delectable, moist cake.

So, how about you? Tell us in the comment section your favorite—or least favorite—words.

Office Perks

Published April 26, 2012 by monicastangledweb

These office workers are content because they can take a lunch break together, and enjoy it, too. Office perks!

Depending on what side of the fence you sit on, things are getting better or things are getting worse. And there are those who think, things are improving, though not fast enough.

Any way you look at it, one thing is probably certain: You haven’t seen a raise in a long time. Years, even.

But I say, look at the bright side. When you are lucky enough to have an office job, there are so many perks that come with it. Perks that can make your head swim, if you think about them for too long. I’m not talking about the obvious, like paid leave or retirement, that some may have. I’m talking about the ones staring you right in the face. Right there in front of your nose. Allow me to outline a few for you:

1. You work in an office that has electricity. So, if there isn’t natural light beaming in from a nearby window, you can still see what you’re doing. All thanks to fluorescent lighting. No need to bring in flashlights or candles from home!

2. You have full access to a bathroom made just for your gender. (The only place where sexism still is allowed—and appreciated. :) ) It’s like being part of a club!

3. The bathroom comes with all the amenities you could ask for—running water, soap, paper towels or hand dryer, sinks, and, well, you get the picture.

4. Chances are, you have your own office space—whether it’s a roomy office, a cubicle or a desk in the janitor’s closet. It’s yours!  And you’re free to place a framed photo of your family on it!

This office worker is a happy one because she has office friends, a desk and computer, not to mention a desk phone!

5. Access to sunlight: maybe you’re stuck all day at your desk and can’t take a break. Well, you can look up, can’t you? Odds are, there’s a window somewhere on your floor, designed for you to look out and gaze upon the sunlight, imagining you’re enjoying a picnic in the park or bicycling through city traffic.
6. Lunch breaks: If you’re like most, you probably get hungry around midday. If so, then problem solved! You are allowed–even encouraged!–to take a lunch break. (But be back in a half hour, please!)
7. I haven’t even mentioned the computer that is, no doubt, sitting on your desk. Yes, you can send and receive work-related emails, make your deadlines for writing reports, and create flyers as needed—all because of that nifty invention, the computer.
8. As an employee of your office, you’re allowed to attend special staff functions, like the office party! And, on your birthday, someone is sure to bring you a frosted cake, that includes your choice of vanilla or chocolate (candles, extra).
9. Business Cards for networking, sales pitching, and also comes with bragging rights (for those with tony job titles, that is).
10. Office Family: When you spend all day, five days a week at your job, it’s more than likely that you will make friends at the office. In fact, they become your work family—probably even closer to you than some of your relatives. Maybe even some bickering, too. Work families are special because they know all about the work you do. They know that the office supply vendor who overcharged you, or that you were late submitting that last report and got a “good” talking to by the Big Cheese. You can take your problems to them and they’ll understand. Of course, if you find yourself planning your Thanksgiving get-together with them, perhaps you’ve taken the concept of office family too far.

This worker bee is grateful for her office perks. ;)

So, the next time you walk into the bathroom to brush your teeth after lunch (it’s allowed!), thank your lucky stars your office offers such accoutrements as running water.

And if, anyone laughs at you for not getting a raise this year, tell them you don’t need one. You’ve got something better:  Office Perks!

So, tell me, whether you work inside or outside the home, what are some of the perks you get with your job?

Looking Good, Mr. Z!

Published April 24, 2012 by monicastangledweb

Has anyone noticed how much weight George Zimmerman has lost lately? The man is so gaunt, you’d think he’s surviving on nothing but Slim Fast shakes. Check out the chain around his waist. It only needed three links to wrap around him completely! I bet you anything, that ankle bracelet they’re making him wear, now that he’s been released, is actually the size of a small hoop earring. Why, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the man is fast becoming his own vanishing act!

Look out, David Copperfield!

Anyway, now that he’s out on bail, he’s going to have plenty of time on his hands. And, he’s going to need to earn the big bucks fast to help him pay for his legal team.

Which is why, if you ask me, what George Zimmerman really needs, more than ever, is a complete makeover. Starting with the name. From now on, if anyone asks, it’s George Z.

Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Next, we got to do something about the wardrobe. Sorry, but Mr. Z’s old clothes aren’t doing it for him anymore.  He needs clothes that fit his all-new, spiffy physique, and make him ready for primetime.

After all, I’m sure all the talk shows are going to want him—Piers Morgan, Jay Leno, and the ladies of The View, for starters.  They’re going to interview him, ad nauseam, to find out how he lost all that weight—and in such short a time, too!

So, shopping at the Big and Tall Barn will no longer be good enough for this fella from the Sunshine State, not when’s he got all this new celebrity cache. We’re talking Brooks Brothers, J. Crew and maybe even, Pac Sun. Now, that’s more like it.

He might even be able to run for office on the NRA ticket. Think of the possibilities! And, I can see him soon doing an ad for life insurance—with the tagline being, what every kid in a hoodie should have.

Here's Mr. Z with an "unidentified male."

And, Mr. Z, some advice:  You were seen leaving the jail carrying all your belongings in paper bags. What’s up with that?  Don’t you know a man of your distinction, who is going to go places, and rise to the top—maybe even get his own reality show, akin to the Jersey Shore (Florida Shore?), should be carrying Louis Vuitton luggage, not grocery bags from the Piggly Wiggly?

And you’re going to need your own posse, not someone identified as an “unidentified male,” seen leaving the jailhouse with you.  How about Jay-Z, Chris Brown, Kanye West, or Taio Cruz? I’m sure they’d love to oblige and spend some time with you. I also bet we could get Spike Lee to tweet about your whereabouts, just to help you raise your profile.

And another thing: it was reported on the news that you didn’t make eye contact with the paparazzi as you left the jail. Which is crazy, if you ask me. Those guys are going to become part of your life. Glued to your rear, every step of the way. So, you might as well get to know them and make the most of your time together.

Finally, if you ever do get acquitted, I hope you create your own line of weight-loss products. Because, whatever it is, it sure worked wonders for you, the Neighborhood Watch guy. Think about it. All that walking on your watch did nothing for your waistline, but something else did, so fill us in, Mr. Z!

What was it? Anxiety? Stress? Guilt, perhaps? Be sure to tell us!  For, we’d love to hear you confess every detail on how it went down–your weight, that is.

Oh, and by the way, ladies, hands off.  Because, if you ask me, Mr. Z could very well be my next prisoner of love!

The verdict is still out, of course. ;)

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