Every few years, the world unites in a grand celebration of football. Or as we in the U.S. like to say, soccer. Half of Americans’ experience with soccer begins and ends with 7-year-olds on a field, clueless about the game but excited about the sliced oranges at the break. The other half thinks FIFA is a type of allergy medication. But this year, something magical is happening: the Tartan Army and other international fan groups are pouring into the U.S. for the World Cup, ready to turn American cities into temporary outposts of global football culture. And America had absolutely no idea what was coming.
The Brazilians arrived radiating sunshine, samba, and the kind of confidence that comes from supporting a team that actually wins things. They immediately attempted to teach Americans how to dance, only to discover that many locals move like malfunctioning shopping carts. The English fans, who are thrilled to discover cheeseburgers and Ranch Dressing, enjoyed explaining—loudly, repeatedly, and to anyone within a five‑mile radius—that this will be their year. (It will not be their year.) The Norwegians came loaded for bear, having posed for their teamphoto as vanquishing ancient Norsemen. They have done “the row” (as if in the boat) at the stadium and more ingeniously, sitting on the “up” escalator at the Boston airport. The Germans showed up with precision, efficiency, and laminated itineraries. They are the only fan group that reads the stadium rules in advance. They are also the only ones who will arrive at the match three hours early “just to be safe.” I have some German lineage and I can attest that this is true.
The Argentinians arrived with Messi flags, Messi shirts, Messi tattoos, and at least one person who has named their firstborn “Messi.” They are prepared for glory. They are also prepared to argue passionately with anyone who suggests another player might be better. And meanwhile, we Americans are trying our best. We’ve decorated stadiums with red, white, and blue. We’ve Googled “how to chant like Europeans.” We’ve even practiced saying “nil” instead of “zero,” though it still sounds like we’re ordering a latte. But we learn quickly. After the win against Australia the U.S. fans sang “Country Roads” in unison, and people who were there said it was the most unified they had felt since 9/11. I wish John Denver was alive to hear how healing his song has become.
But let’s face it, it’s the Scots who have stolen the show. The Tartan Army has been Scotland’s most enthusiastic export after whisky and passive-aggressive weather. They arrived in full tartan regalia, kilts swishing proudly in the breeze, armed with bagpipes, optimism, and a deep, ancestral understanding that their team may not win—but by heaven, they will out‑party everyone. As they say, “No Scotland, no party!” They discovered that American beer is often served cold. Despite this, they still drank Boston dry. Many bar owners said they’d had to make emergency orders, having significantly underestimated how much the average Scot can drink. They also learned that some statues in the U.S. are quite tall, making it hard to place a traffic cone upon the top of it (long story – look it up). But just to show how charming the Tartan Army is, in Providence, R.I. the city maintenance workers gave a lift to a Scotsman in their cherry picker so he could complete the mission.
We Americans quickly learned that the Tartan Army is loud, joyful, and unstoppable. They sing in the streets. They sing in the stadiums. They sing in hotel elevators, which is confusing for guests who thought they were stepping into a quiet ride to the lobby and instead find themselves in a mobile Highland ceilidh. And yet—Americans fell in love with them. Because the Tartan Army, like all great football fans, brings something the U.S. can’t resist: pure, unfiltered, wholehearted enthusiasm.
They also brought manners and grace. A woman bartender in a Boston restaurant was the only person on duty when hundreds of the Tartan Army entered. She worked as quickly as possible to get them all drinks. When her shift ended, she told a local news reporter that to a person, they were polite, respectful and fun. The Scots had a party in a Boston park with over 2,000 people. Only one maintenance worker was scheduled to work the next day (I’m beginning to think Boston didn’t realize that FIFA was in town). Anyway, he said the park was so clean when he came to work, he just had to pick up the bags of trash the Scots had piled up for him. Finally, the Tartan Army was so overwhelmed by the friendliness and warmth of the Americans that they donated $30,000 to local charities as a thank you for welcoming them. And then they collected more money, giving $10,000 to a children’s cancer charity, $6,500 to a program to teach kids how to play the bagpipes, and $10,000 to a program that teaches underprivileged kids to play soccer. The Tartan Army reminded everyone that sport isn’t just about winning. It’s about belonging. It’s about joy. It’s about wearing a kilt in 105‑degree heat because tradition matters more than comfort. They’ll go home sunburned, dehydrated, and hoarse from singing—but proud. Because they didn’t just come to watch football. They came to conquer America, and they did. With kilts and kindness.
And we learned something about ourselves in hosting all of the international fans. In 11 host cities across the U.S., foreign tourists and ordinary Americans have created diplomacy that puts professionals to shame. And we got the wake-up call we needed: we are not our politicians or the media. We are good-hearted people who have more in common than we have differences. We love to gather together, laugh and sing. Now we just need to figure out a national chant.
I have just returned from a most wonderful time in the state of Minnesota to celebrate the 100th birthday of my favorite mother-in-law, Phyllis Barnes. I know the state of Minnesota has received some bad press lately due to political issues and the influx of some corrupt Somalians, but I’m here to tell you that Phyllis and all of her relatives still exhibit ‘Minnesota Nice’. Phyllis is not just amazing for making her 100th trip around the sun, but she has done it with class and grace, and she remembers it all, as she is still sharp as a tack.
Wife, Linda, left for Minnesota last Tuesday, then daughter, Stephanie and her daughter, Emma, daughter, Dana and her daughter, Addison, and son Jeff and his wife Pam and their daughter, Brooklyn, and I left last Thursday for a magical weekend in Rochester, Minnesota. People came from Texas, Alabama, Oklahoma, New York, Washington, Arkansas and I’m sure other places that I can’t remember.
Phyllis’s kids, Linda, Dale, Starlet
Each night, Thursday through Saturday, we met and celebrated at a different venue as the party grew in numbers each night. Thursday night we met at the VFW in Rochester – there were about 15 of us. On Friday night more people rolled into town, and we met at great- grandson Will’s apartment rooftop recreation room in Rochester – there were about 25 of us there. I started to try and put everyone’s name in the blog, but by the time I got to second cousins, once removed, who should have been removed twice, it got too confusing, so maybe these numbers will help you understand the numbers that attended this Century Birthday – Phyllis had 3 children, 14 Grandchildren, 31 Great-Grandchildren and 8 Great-Great Grandchildren, which includes Dale’s long-lost son – but that’s a whole other story.
Sparrow family: Jeff, Pam, Dana, Addison, Stephanie, Brooklyn, me, Linda, Emma around Phyllis
Saturday was the date of the official birthday party, which took place at Phyllis’s senior living center where there was a nice meal served and plenty of beer and wine. There was a very good accordion player who sang some fun songs. Among other speakers, Phyllis’s three children, who performed as singers growing up under the name of The Barnes Trio, did not sing, but told some very entertaining stories about growing up on a farm in Minnesota. There were somewhere between 65-70 people in attendance – mostly all related in some way.
After that party, about 30 of us adjourned to Starlet’s daughter, Denise and husband, Gene’s, beautiful five-acre home and garden in the rolling hills of Rochester. It was the perfect finishing touch on a wonderful weekend dedicated to a most amazing lady.
“Double your pleasure, double your fun”, “A little dab’ll do ya”, “Snap, Crackle, Pop.” If you’re of an age where you’re receiving Social Security those phrases will bring back fond memories. In fact, most of us can probably sing the entire verse. They are advertising jingles, of course, and were the mainstay of entertainment when we were growing up. Before the advent of recording devices, or even a clicker, we were forced to sit and watch the advertisements on television. I’m sure our parents thought they were annoying, but looking back, some of them were downright entertaining. It’s been a long time since an ad has captured the public’s attention, primarily because we’re all watching something different – different shows, on different devices, and on different streaming or cable outlets.
But back in 1959, the ad execs on Madison Avenue viewed television as a vehicle for unlocking new forms of storytelling. It was an era of bold ideas, increasingly large budgets, and even bigger personalities — a time when advertising was seen as glamorous and ads were focused on post-war consumerism. Sometimes they were devised to change perception. Take the ad for Volkswagen, for example. In 1959 Americans were buying cars out of Detroit and vehicles were getting bigger and flashier. Remember those fins?? DDB, one of the premier ad agencies, was contracted to promote the German-made Volkswagen Beetle in the United States. The problem was, Volkswagen’s strong link to Nazi Germany made it a tough sell in the U.S. The challenge called for an unconventional approach. Rather than attempting to duplicate the advertising style of American-made cars, the creative team behind Volkswagen’s campaign went in the opposite direction. The first ad, “Think Small,” featured a small black-and-white image of a Volkswagen Beetle against a backdrop of white space. The now-iconic ad encouraged consumers to look at the car in a new light, from being able to “squeeze into a small parking spot” to having small insurance payments and small repair bills. I’d guess that for those of us around in the 60’s we all knew someone who owned a “Beetle”. My brother, Jack, bought one in 1965 and a year later was generous/foolish enough to teach me how to drive a clutch in it. He can vouch that the repair bills, at least for a clutch, were indeed reasonable.
Ads were not always so light-hearted, especially in hindsight. Cigarette ads come to mind when thinking about the dark side of advertising. One of the most successful advertising campaigns in history was that for Marlboro cigarettes, one of the first cigarettes to add a filter. During market research in the 1950s, men indicated that while they would consider switching to a filtered cigarette (then considered “feminine”), they were concerned about being seen smoking a cigarette marketed to women. New campaigns featured rugged men doing rugged jobs. In 1963 ads began to feature cowboys, and the “Marlboro Man” was launched. In 1954, before the campaign began, annual sales were approximately 18 million cigarettes. By 1955, after the national rollout of the cowboy-themed advertisements, sales surged to 6 billion cigarettes, and by 1957, sales were at $20 billion. Five men played the “Marlboro Man” over the years, including the grandfather of NFL quarterback, Sam Darnold. All five eventually died of smoking-related illnesses. God only knows how many people succumbed to the lure of being a “Marlboro Man” and suffered similar fates.
Cigarette ads aside, there were some extremely clever ads with memorable jingles during the heyday of television advertising. No doubt, the creative juices were let loose during lunch, when drinking was not only acceptable, but expected. The famous “three martini lunch” was deductible on expense accounts, and thus, was perceived as a symbol of success. Today, so much has changed with regard to ads, not to mention drinking at lunch. As mentioned previously, depending on what you watch and how you watch it, you may not know anyone who has seen the same ad as you. The only common experience we have is with ads shown during the Super Bowl. Some of our most popular cultural touchpoints started as Super Bowl ads, such as Wendy’s “Where’s the Beef?” promotion that launched a phrase into the lexicon that is still in use today. And maybe that’s why people look forward to Super Bowl ads so much – the opportunity to re-hash the best, worst and funniest with our friends.
Most of the ads I see are for drugs to fix age-related conditions. That’s called “targeting advertising” and I suppose it’s more cost-effective for the sponsors, but I can never remember the products. Maybe they need to bring back the Don Draper’s of the ad world to create a catchy tune or jingle to jog our memories.
I’m sorry, but I can’t take you to someplace new EVERY two weeks, so I’m staying home and recognizing some historical and some not-so-historical personal events that took place this week.
June 1, 1967: Sgt. Pepper Released: The Beatles released their groundbreaking album Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band in the United States.
On June 1, 1961: I was first pepper sprayed for getting too fresh on a first date
Birthday wishes today go out to Marylin Monroe and Brigham Young – a great couple!
June 2, 1953: Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II: Following her accession in 1952, Queen Elizabeth II was officially crowned at Westminster Abbey, marking the first coronation to be televised.
On June 2, 1968: I graduated from Westminster College and was crowned the ‘most likely to embarrass himself in a job interview’, which I did, but it was thankfully not televised.
Many of you sickos will be wishing Marquis de Sade a Happy Birthday today, but I’m going to wish my granddaughter, Addison Sparrow Borrelli a happy 9th birthday!
Astronaut Ed White, Space Walking
June 3, 1965: First US Spacewalk: Astronaut Ed White became the first American to walk in space during the Gemini 4 mission, lasting 22 minutes.
On June 3,1971: It took me 22 minutes to complete a sobriety field test walk of ten feet. I may have not been walking in space, but I was feeling spaced as I walked.
Another birthday today for anti-Civil Right leader Jefferson Davis – Confederate President
June 4, 1942: Battle of Midway Begins: A pivotal naval battle in the Pacific Theater of WWII began, shifting the advantage to the United States.
On June 4, 2000: I lost the battle searching my mid-drift for my naval at the Pacific gym as I weighed in at 240 pounds, shifting the advantage to expansive underwear.
It is the king we fought in our Revolutionary War’s birthday today, King George III – “The British Are Coming”; (But they won’t stay for dinner.)
June 5, 1967: Six-Day War Begins: Conflicts began between Israel and its neighbors (Egypt, Jordan, and Syria).
On June 5, 1986: the beginning of the six-day battle with three neighbors over which dog left his ‘greeting card’ on my front porch.
D-Day
Fall asleep tonight with some soft alto saxophone music on Kenny G’s birthday
June 6, 1944: D-Day (Operation Overlord): Allied forces launched a massive invasion of Normandy, France, during WWII, opening the Western Front.
On June 6, 2003: Operation Overbearing was launched when I had to listen to some French woman talk about her Western Front – I reminded her that she’d be speaking German if not for us.
The Dalai Lama is 91 today – Namaste
Gauguin’s ‘Road in Tahiti’
June 7, 1929: Vatican City Recognized: Vatican City became a sovereign state following the exchange of documents ratifying the Lateran Treaty.
On June 7, 1966: I was recognized as a ‘person of interest’ in a sorority panty-raid, when I was caught with said garmet on my head.
French Post-Impressionist painter, Paul Gauguin’s birthday party today, he won’t be attending – he died in 1903
Yeah, I know; I hope I’ll be traveling somewhere soon too!
This annual Memorial Day post is written in remembrance of the soldiers from my high school who died in the Vietnam war. I first published this in 2014, and each year since then I hear from people who relate similar stories about the losses suffered in their hometowns or, worse, their families. This Memorial Day please take a moment to remember all of the brave young men and women we’ve lost in conflict.
Five boys from my high school were killed in the Vietnam War. For a small town like Novato, that was an enormous number. We were such a close-knit community that even if we didn’t know one of them personally, we knew a sibling or friend. So when I planned my trip to Washington D.C. last month, I scheduled time to visit the Vietnam Veterans Memorial to see their names on “The Wall”.
To refresh my memory, I pulled out my high school yearbooks and found them all – smiling for a formal portrait or posing for a team picture. Each image reflected a boy, fresh-faced and full of hope, his life stretching out before him. I looked at those young faces and found it hard to believe that their lives ended so soon after the bucolic days captured in the photos. None of them reached the age of 22, their dreams extinguished on the battlefield. While we, their classmates, lived long enough to enjoy the internet, smart phones and streaming movies, most of them didn’t live long enough to see color television.
I reflected on the stories I’ve read of WWII vets who speak so reverently of the “boys who didn’t come home”. As I perused the yearbooks, I finally understood their sentiment. It is only when looking back through a 50-year lens that one can appreciate just how young these soldiers were and how many of life’s milestones they missed. So, on this Memorial Day, I’d like to pay tribute to “The Boys from Novato.”
Robert Johnson Bob Johnson joined the Army in the fall of 1965, in what would have been his Senior year in high school. I remember him as a very nice, quiet guy. Before he enlisted, he asked his high school sweetheart to marry him – they wanted something to hang on to while he was gone. His entry into the service occurred just as the war was escalating. He was sent to Vietnam in March of 1966 and three weeks later he was killed by enemy gunfire during “Operation Abilene” in Phuoc Tuy Province. As his former classmates excitedly anticipated their Senior prom and graduation, Robert had already made the ultimate sacrifice. In the 1966 yearbook, where his senior portrait would have been, his mother placed this photo of him in uniform along with a tribute. He was the first Vietnam casualty from Novato.
Mike Tandy
Mike Tandy graduated from NHS in 1965. His sisters, Sue and Sarah also attended NHS. Mike was a good student, who participated in the first swim team our high school fielded. He was an Eagle Scout and according to his friend Neil Cuzner, “he was highly intelligent, a great guy and an excellent scout. He was in the Senior Patrol and a young leader of our troop. He led by example.” After graduation Mike joined the Marine reserves and was called up in January 1966. He was sent to Vietnam shortly after that. On September 8th he was on patrol in Quang Nam with another soldier when his footfall detonated a landmine. He was killed instantly. He had celebrated his 19th birthday just five days prior. His classmates had moved on – either to college or working – but the Tandy family was left to grieve the loss of their son and brother. In 2005 Sarah posted to the virtual Vietnam Wall: “Thanks to all of you who come here and remember Mike. All of our lives were changed, and I thank you for not forgetting.”
Allan Nelson
Allan Nelson played football at College of Marin with my brother, Bob. Allan’s sister, Joanne, was in Bob’s class in high school and his brother, Steve, was in mine. So we were well aware when Allan was drafted into the Army and sent to Vietnam in July 1966 at the age of 20. Five months later, on December 1, we were devastated to learn he had been killed by gunfire during a battle in Binh Dinh Province. I still remember the day Steve came back to school after Allan’s death; red-faced with tears streaming down his cheeks. He had always been such a happy guy but was now changed in ways that were hard for his 16-year-old friends to understand. As I look back now, I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him to go home from school each day, to face parents who were shattered by grief. Joanne posted the following on a memorial page and perhaps sums it up the best: “Allan was my brother, not just a brother, he was my best friend. All I know is December 1, 1966, was the saddest time for me and my family. My family loved each other so much, but when Al was killed the joy died in my family. Allan had his whole life planned. He had just turned 21 on Oct. 20th. When we were young, he couldn’t wait to be 21. I am so sorry for all the families that lost a son and a brother. It will be 33 years in Dec. The everyday sad feelings of loss are gone but on special days it still hurts.”
Jim Gribbin
Jim Gribbin graduated from NHS in 1966. He was on the football team, very active in school clubs and was well-liked by everyone he met. He joined the Army Reserves and when called up, became part of the Special Forces, where he rose to the rank of Captain. He served two tours of duty in an elite MIKE unit. In March 1970 his unit was on a night defensive mission in Kontum Province when they were ambushed by enemy troops. Jim sacrificed his own safety by running into open territory – twice – to aid and retrieve wounded soldiers under his command. He was shot both times and taken to a rear medical facility where he died from his wounds. Ironically, for this affable Irishman, he succumbed on St. Patrick’s Day. He was awarded the Silver Star and the Bronze Star for Valor. Jim’s dad was a veteran of WWII and when he died in 2011, he requested that he be buried in Jim’s grave, with his name and vitals carved on the back of Jim’s headstone. One can only imagine the grief that he carried all those years. Hopefully he is at peace now that they are forever reunited.
In 2018 I was contacted by a woman in New York who signed up for a grueling physical event that honors Vietnam veterans. She chose to represent Jim. She had found my Memorial Day tribute and wanted to know more about him. You can read my post about her and the event here: https://fromabirdseyeview.com/?p=7111
Wayne Bethards
Wayne “Ed” Bethards was in my graduating class, but I didn’t know him well. His family moved to Novato just before the start of our senior year. His mother, Betty Bethards, was the author of the international best-seller, “The Dream Book”. Again, Neil Cuzner has provided a bit more insight: “Wayne was a good person. He had a great love of baseball and had actually started a small league while over in ‘Nam. He was sharing his love of baseball with the Vietnamese children.” Cuzner went on to say that Wayne was a religious person and did not want to kill anyone; he struggled greatly with his deployment. He was drafted into the Army and was sent to Vietnam in October of 1970. In January 1971, he was killed while on patrol by the accidental detonation of a mechanical device in Quang Tin Province. He was the last boy from Novato High School to die in the war.
Jerry Sims
In April 2017, I heard from a former schoolmate, Dennis Welsh, about Jerry Sims. When he died in Vietnam the Army listed his hometown as Novato. I found in my research that sometimes the Novato “hometown” designation was for those who had lived at Hamilton Air Force Base, not necessarily a graduate of Novato High School. Since I couldn’t find any records of Jerry from NHS, I assumed he lived at the base, but that was not the case. Dennis told me that Jerry moved to Novato from Texas in the Spring of 1966 to live with his sister. He tried out for the football team during spring training and made the squad. But despite that automatic inclusion into a social group, he was unhappy living in California and being the “new kid” going into his Senior year. Dennis told me he never saw Jerry again after football tryouts and didn’t learn of his fate until he spotted Jerry’s name on “The Wall”. I learned that after Jerry left Novato in June 1966, he joined the Army and was sent to Vietnam in November. On February 6, 1968, he and several others in his unit were killed by small arms fire in Gia Dinh province. Jerry was 19 years old. His former platoon leader wrote this on his memorial page: “I was Jerry’s platoon leader on the day he died. He didn’t have to be there, since he had a job elsewhere in Vietnam, but requested a transfer to our unit. He had already spent a year with the Wolfhounds, but for reasons all his own, he wanted to come back to this unit. He died doing his job as a squad leader in my platoon.” It would seem Jerry finally found his home – and some peace – with his Army brethren.
Jim Wright
Update May 2022: Each year this annual tribute receives a lot of viewings around Memorial Day. This year I was fortunate to hear from Bill Sauber, a 1966 graduate of NHS, who told me of another NHS connection: Jim Wright.
Jim celebrated his 18th birthday in January 1966 and was drafted into the Army shortly thereafter. I suspect that he had dropped out of school, as he was in his sophomore year in the spring of 1966, so would not otherwise be eligible for the draft. After basic training he was sent to Vietnam in May as part of the 27th Infantry, known as the Wolfhounds. On November 5, 1966, he was killed by enemy gunfire in Darlac province. He posthumously received a Silver Star. His official records indicate that by the time Jim died, his father was not living in Novato, his mother could not be located, and he had married a woman named Linda. It is hard to imagine that in the space of one year Jim celebrated his 18th birthday, was drafted, married, and ultimately, killed. As with Bob Johnson and Jim Gribbin, he lies at rest in Golden Gate National Cemetery. I am hopeful that someone reading this post knew him and can provide more insight into his time at Novato High School.
When I visited “The Wall” I found the boys from Novato, each name etched on that long expanse of granite. I thought about their families and the sorrow they endured. It was overwhelming to realize that sorrow had been replicated 58,286 times. Each of the names on that black, shiny surface represent a family forever destroyed. As I walked along the pathway, I looked at all of the mementos that were left as tributes to the fallen – notes, flowers and flags mostly. But then I spotted something different – a tribute from Jim Dart to his brother, Larry. It was a Kingston Trio album, along with a note about the good times they shared learning the guitar and singing songs together. I was overcome with emotion reading Jim’s note. My brother, Bob, owned that same album. He and his best friend, Don, often entertained our family playing their guitars and singing songs from that record. Bob was a Naval officer in Japan during the Vietnam war and was safely returned to us. I wept as I stood looking at the album, realizing that but for the grace of God – and military orders – how easily it could have been Bob’s name on that wall and me leaving a Kingston Trio album in his memory. I can’t imagine our family without his presence all of these years. I ached for Sue and Sarah and Joanne and Steve and all the other siblings who never got to see gray hair on their brothers’ heads; their family gatherings forever marred by a gaping hole where their brother should have been. When I stooped down to take the photo, I noticed that several other visitors had stopped to look at it too. As I glanced at those who were of a certain age, I could see my own feelings reflected in their eyes. We know how much of life these boys missed. We mourn their loss – and ours.
It’s tough to escape the news these days. It is seemingly everywhere and with today’s 24-hour news cycle, it feels like notable events are happening every second. With the death of Ted Turner, arguably the inventor of 24-hour news, there were several articles published about his impact on news. One article noted that it would be a welcome respite if, for just one day, we didn’t have ANY news, as happened on April 18, 1930, when the BBC announced that nothing newsworthy had occurred that day. At the start of its regular news broadcast at 8:45 p.m., the BBC announced, “Good evening. Today is Good Friday. There is no news.” The BBC had a reputation to uphold – it had traditionally decried sensationalist news reporting. They shied away from covering local automobile accidents and fires in favor of big-picture affairs that had global repercussions. So, when they assumed there was no news, they kept the bar high, axed the nightly news, and played piano music in its place.
As it turned out, the news department made an ill-informed, or rather, non-informed, mistake. In reality, that day was a very notable news day, as nationalist rebels conducted a raid on British commonwealth forces in India. But communication lines were cut during the attack, making it impossible for the BBC to be aware of the news. Under the impression there were no major headlines that day, the network felt no need to lower its broadcast standards solely to fill time.
Huntley and Brinkley back in the day
Imagine that – a news network deeming to not lower its standards just to fill airtime. According to the latest Pew research, most nightly newscasts devote a surprisingly small share, often only 5–25%, to what most people would consider “important” or high‑impact news. The rest is typically softer material: human‑interest stories, consumer tips, health trends, weather, and promotional segments. And of course, many of the cable channels are rife with opinion and low on accurate information.
While exact percentages vary by network and by day, long-term content analyses show the following patterns for local newscasts:
Hard news (politics, world events, economics): 5–25%
Hard news has steadily declined over decades as networks chase broader audiences and advertiser‑friendly demographics.
Soft news (health, lifestyle, human interest): 30–50%
These segments are cheaper to produce and more reliably “pleasant” for viewers.
Weather: 10–15%
Weather is one of the most-watched parts of any broadcast.
Crime stories: 10–20%
Crime is often overrepresented relative to actual crime rates.
Network promotion (teasers for upcoming shows, cross‑promotion): 5–10%
However, the times, they are a changin’. Only around 20% of adults under 30 regularly watch TV news. Gone are the days when the family gathered around a TV to watch anything, much less news. Younger people prefer to get their news digitally. Most read news on their phones. If they are watching anything it is online (You Tube or Tik Tok), or they listen to news on podcasts. God help the person getting news from Facebook and Instagram, the home of bots and third-grade name calling. Bottom line: young adults overwhelmingly get news from social media, more than any other age group.
All of this is happening at a time when AI is changing the landscape of just about everything. I don’t think it’s too far-fetched to assume that soon an AI program will determine what goes into a newsfeed. And for that matter, have an AI robot deliver the news. All I can hope is that whoever is programming the AI looks to the BBC on April 18, 1930, to establish its standards. I know, wishful thinking.
We disembarked in the port of Piraeus at 8:30 in the morning and had about a 45-minute ride through Athens, a clean city that looked a bit tired except for the fresh graffiti, to Hotel Grande Bretagne, which is five-star and in a great location across from Syntagma Square, a major park in Athens. After checking in and freshening up, we were met at the hotel with two, four-passenger golf carts for our tour and introduction to Athens. It often seemed like we took our life in our own hands by riding a golf cart in this very heavily trafficked city. But our guide was used to it, so we survived. Our guide was not only a good driver, but very knowledgeable about Greek history; not only knowledgeable, but passionate about it.
Notice circles of swastikas
It was a three-hour tour that covered virtually all the city, including the Parliament, with the swastikas on the gate – yes, swastikas. It seems the Nazis stole this symbol, that ironically means peace, from the Greeks. We were told that marble is abundant in Greece and in fact the street curbs are all made of marble. So, it has that going for it. We were taken to the top of Lycabettus mountain that provided us with a panoramic view of the entire city. While we got closer in distance to the Parthenon and Acropolis, this distant view of it was as good as we were going to get of this historic site. Our guide told us that the Parthenon and Acropolis are on a different tour and downplayed it saying that they’re just really old buildings. So, my hope of seeing the only thing I had some knowledge about in Greece was dashed. But hey, I was told they just look really old; I can look in the mirror and see that! We ended our tour in the bustling market district that housed lots of shops and restaurants, and had lunch.
Budds, Sparrows, Sagers on Lycabettus Mt.
Back to our hotel for a little rest before we went to the rooftop bar and restaurant, but since we had just eaten, we had a drink and actually had to pay for it – our cruise drink package was no longer valid!
That was our quick tour of Athens. The next morning came the easy part for you and the not-so-fun part for us – a long flight home, but fortunately for both of us it was uneventful.
I need a quick review, as I seem to be in a space-time continuum. Our last stop in Italy was on the island of Sicily at the port town of Catania. We had set up a walking/food tour through the city as we thought that we’d never seen food walking before, so we were very excited, only to find out that we walked and the food just sat there. Our guide was a young lady who talked very quietly with no amplification, so I can’t tell you what she said or what we saw, but I can tell you that the food was very good. We walked through the largest fish market I’ve ever seen, featuring fish that I’ve seen. We didn’t have any. The only two things I remember consuming were a cannoli and some red wine.
The first Greek island we hit was Katakolon, and island that several of us had visited before, and we still weren’t sure why a cruise ship stopped there. There are only two main streets, which, if you’re not looking for women’s apparel, can be walked in about 20 minutes. The ladies stayed a little longer, but the guys were back on board enjoying the ‘drink package’ for lunch.
Snow-capped mountains, right? Nope!
Sunset on Santorini
Our next stop is, for some, the island that epitomizes Greek islands, Santorini. As we approached the island it looked like there was snow on top of the mountains; it turned out to be all white houses and shops. There was a long delay (3 hours) waiting for our tender to take us ashore as we had booked a tour with a private company, not Oceania, and Oceania didn’t like that, so they made anyone who booked a private tour go last in getting ashore. The seas were rough and the winds were high and our tender nearly capsized, but we made it ashore and were met by our tour guide, another soft-spoken woman without any amplification devices, so again, I really can’t tell you that much about Santorini other than it is beautiful, unique and filled with restaurants, shops and people. After weaving our way through the labyrinth of shope, we had dinner at a cliff-side restaurant that provided us with a beautiful sunset view before heading back to the ship.
On board there was great entertainment each night ranging from comedians to Broadway musicals.
Next day, new island – Milos. Which again raised the question, why do cruise ships stop here? There was only one main street with a variety of shops – again the ladies needed more time to browse the shops, while the guys tasted some Greek beer. Next!
A main street in Milos
Our final island stop before our cruise ends in Athens is Mykonos, the party island – except we were there too early for the parties. We did have perfect weather. What was most noticeable about these Greek islands is that there are very few trees and the land is brown; this place will never be mistaken for the Hawaiian Islands. Why does it look like this? Several reasons.
Windmills on Mykonos
Ancient civilizations and later inhabitants used vast amounts of wood for shipbuilding, fuel, and land clearing
Intense grazing by goats
Poor volcanic soil
Dry, semi-arid Mediterranean climate with limited summer rainfall
In Mykonos
Back to the tour: we had a great guide, meaning we could hear him and he was very knowledgeable. We toured a good part of the whole island, visiting an old light house, some windmills and a section of town on the water called ‘Little Venice’. Mykonos is filled with very expensive housing (some with helicopter pads), sand beaches, and a few olive trees. We stopped midway through our tour for some classic Greek baklava – very good!
Next Monday: Disembark and our time in ancient city of Athens
I’m not sure if all roads lead to Rome, but ours did last Tuesday, prior to getting on our cruise on Thursday. We had decided that because we had been to Rome on several previous occasions that we would only spend about a day there before boarding our cruise. In retrospect, probably a mistake, as Rome is such an amazing city, it deserves as much time as you can give it.
Our driver picked us (the Budds & Sagers) from the airport and drove us to our hotel, Sina Bernini Bristol, which was conveniently located withing walking distance of several of Rome’s main attractions. But first, as we waited for our room to be ready, we had lunch at Arte e Sfizio, not sure of the spelling but it was fantastic. We were welcomed by the owner, Johnny like we were old, long-lost friends (well, we were old!). He brought us out an appetizer tray that was killer! It was a wonderful way to be welcomed to Italy – great hospitality, great food.
From left: Reddy’s, Budds, Helmles, Sagers and Sparrows
After lunch, our rooms were ready, so we checked in and went to the rooftop bar to enjoy some great Italian wine and a spectacular view of the city. Like the tourists that we were, we decided to walk to two iconic Italian sites that were close by, Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps. Both just a short walking distance from our hotel and both were very crowded but were still enjoyable to see. We were stuffed from lunch, but by dinner time, we decided to head up to the rooftop restaurant and enjoy some ‘little Italian bites’ which happened to be more like little Japanese bites and some more wine. We finished the evening with a short walk from the hotel to an amazing Gelato place. There is nothing like Italian gelato! A great way to end our first and only day in Rome.
The next morning, we had about an hour and a half drive from our hotel to the ship, but it seemed like just minutes as our driver was a singer and he sang some great Italian and American songs all the way. We of course joined in, making the ride seem like only a few minutes.
The suite!
The ship was magnificent. It is Oceana’s newest ship, Alura, which just turned a year old this month. It has a rather small capacity of 1,200 passengers. One couple in our group, the Helmles, got a room on the ship like I’ve never seen before. It was at the aft of the ship and the room, which was 2400 square feet, went from one side of the ship to the other – simply unbelievable!!! We became regular guests there!
First stop, the Amalfi Coast. We had arranged for two vans to pick up the ten of us for the picturesque and often life-threatening ride up the mountain. It is truly one of the most picturesque coastlines in the world. It just so happened that our driver was also an opera singer, so we were serenaded with both Italian and American classics through the entire trip. We were dropped in the middle of Amalfi and did some shopping and had lunch (amazing spaghetti bolognese) before returning to the ship.
Travel tip: If you’ve never been to the Amalfi Coast, shame on you – go!! And try to find a driver that sings Italian operas!
Our last stop in Italy is on the island of Sicily in the port city of Catania, where the still active volcano, Mt. Etna is an iconic landmark. We did a food/walking tour of this home of many of Italy’s famous artists and writers. We had two guides take us through a huge fish market and throughout town stopping for . . . I don’t know what we ate, but it was all good. We finished the day back on board at the Asian specialty restaurant for a delicious dinner.
On Tuesday of this week I’ll be heading to the Mediterranean. No, I have not been called back into the Navy and sent to the Straight of Hormuz to settle that little spat. Rather, Linda and I will be meeting up with the Budds, Helmles, Reddys and Sagers in Rome. Some folks are getting there a few days early to hang in Rome, which is one of my favorite cities in the world, but we’re getting there just a day before we jump on the Oceana cruise ship, Allura, in the port of Civitavecchia.
The beautiful Amalfi Coast
We’ll cruise several miles south to the beautiful Amalfi coast and visit the towns of Amalfi and Positano. Then back on board for a short cruise to the east side of the island of Sicily, where we’ll do a walking tour of the town of Catania. From there we were supposed to go to Corfu, but that was scratched from the itinerary, so I searched to see why and only found some general information like port congestion, maintenance work, and the need to reduce fuel consumption. So goodbye to seeing the unique blend of Venetian, French, and British architecture versus the typical Greek, white-washed houses. We’ll also miss the millions of olive trees but may see the three U.S. aircraft carriers that have now been deployed to the Eastern Mediterranean. Yikes!!
Hopefully avoiding that little disagreement, we’ll next hit several Greek islands:
Santorini
Katakolon – this is the only Greek island that we have previously seen on an Adriatic cruise several years ago. It is the site of the first Olympic games. where the first organized marathon was run. The first organized marathon was run in the modern Olympics in 1896. Perhaps we’ll see the laggers just finishing.
Santorini – known for its beautiful sunsets; it is a popular honeymoon destination. That ship has sailed!
Milos – known for its stunning beaches, volcanic landscapes, and the Venus de Milo, the famous sculpture was discovered on this island. Perhaps we’ll be on a tour that searches for her arms.
Mykonos – apparently, it’s known for its great night life, but we’re there from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m. I guess the cruise lines know that night lift for us old fogies ends around 4:30!
The Acopolis
We’ll then hit the Port of Piraeus and disembark in our destination city of Athens, where we have a golfcart tour of this historic city. Fellow traveler, Chuck Sager was stationed in Greece during his time in the service, so I’m sure he’ll have a few stories to tell us and perhaps he’ll get to visit with some of the children he didn’t know he had.
That’s the plan. If you want to come along, I’ll provide some up-dates on our adventures next Monday.
