By Michael Kaufman

As we mark the 40th anniversary of mankind’s first trip to the moon, I recall exactly where I was July 20, 1969, when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin invented the moonwalk (later adapted and updated by Michael Jackson). I was strolling on Broadway on the upper West Side of Manhattan near a tiny enclave then known none-too affectionately as “Needle Park.” My thoughts were on the Mets, then involved in a pennant race for the first time in the young life of the team. A fellow I recognized as one of the local winos sat alone on one of the park benches, holding a transistor radio to his ear.

“What’s the score?” I called out, slowing my pace. He looked up at me, frowning. Then he said, “I ain’t listening to no ballgame, I’m listening ‘bout that moon crap!”

Years later I was tempted to share that vignette with Buzz Aldrin when I met him at a medical meeting I was covering. He was there on behalf of a pharmaceutical company marketing a new wound dressing, linking it to “space-age technology.”

Kaufman as Viagra MVP

His presence increased traffic at the company’s booth in the exhibit area. Mercifully, they did not have him pose for souvenir pictures that made it look like the doctor smiling next to him was one of his fellow astronauts. Maybe the technology wasn’t available yet. I covered a meeting a few years ago where urologists lined up to appear in a baseball-card photo depicting them in Viagra team uniforms. It was an MVP card (with MVP standing for “most valuable prescriber”). I even posed for one (see photo). At another recent meeting, Dick Vermeil, a famous football coach, provided hundreds of toothy smiles.   

Besides appearing at the booth, Aldrin spent time in the evenings at the company’s hospitality suite, hoisting a few with a handful of invited guests, company personnel, and this writer, who managed to wangle an invitation. This must have taken place during the period he describes in his memoir, “Magnificent Desolation,” in which he documents his battles against depression and alcoholism. That night he certainly looked depressed, chain smoking and drinking the night away as boozed up guests asked him annoying questions like, “What was it like going to the bathroom?” 

Today, his desolation behind him, Aldrin is a motivational speaker represented by the Executive Speakers Bureau of Memphis and is reported to receive between $30,000-$50,000 per appearance. He also has a snazzy Web site, buzzaldrin.com, where he hawks t-shirts that say “Rocket Hero” with a logo suggestive of an astronaut placing a flag on the moon, and autographed pictures for $350. Or you can buy his Buzz Aldrin G6 Aviator Radio and even download his latest rap song on iTunes.

Yes, to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the first lunar landing, Aldrin has teamed up with Snoop Dogg and other luminaries of the hip-hop genre to create the rap single and video, “Rocket Experience.”

Buzz Aldrin

Proceeds will benefit ShareSpace, a non-profit foundation he launched in 1998. “Our mission is to share the wonders of space with children of all ages, and to foster affordable space travel opportunities for all,” he says.

Thanks to ShareSpace, perhaps even a wino from Needle Park may one day be able to afford to travel in space and see “that moon crap” in person.

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com

By Michael Kaufman

It is a good thing I will never get nominated to be a Supreme Court justice. My meltdown would come early in the hearings. Just listening to some of the comments of the Republican yahoos during the Senate confirmation hearing for Judge Sonia Sotomayor got my blood boiling. And I’m not even a wise Latina woman!

And no one heated up my corpuscles more than Jefferson Beauregard “Jeff” Sessions III, the junior senator from Alabama and the ranking Republican on the Senate Judiciary Committee. Sen. Arlen Specter of Pennsylvania used to be the top Republican but he switched parties recently when he saw the GOP’s big tent shrink to the size of a lean-to occupied mainly by right-wing extremists and Christian fundamentalists. Those folks think Specter is “too liberal,” which is scary to anyone of the progressive persuasion who remembers the hatchet job he did on Anita Hill during the Clarence Thomas confirmation hearings or, for that matter, who is aware of his current anti-labor stance regarding the Employee Free Choice Act. (Speaking of stances, is Larry Craig still in the Senate?)

Alas for progressives, Sessions is a worse spectre than Specter. Sessions has become the darling of Rush (Big Fat Idiot) Limbaugh and other loudmouths of his ilk in attacking Judge Sotomayor’s involvement with the Puerto Rican Legal Defense and Education Fund. After helping to create an atmosphere in which Limbaugh, et al, have been repeatedly calling Judge Sotomayor a “racist” for weeks, Sessions demagogically, albeit wisely, distanced himself from the epithet as the hearings began.

After all, he said, he knows what it is like to be wrongly called a racist. Only in his case it is not so wrongly. As Ian Millhiser, a legal research analyst for ThinkProgress.org, a project of the Center for American Progress Action Fund, writes, “Sessions’ decision to embrace the right-wing attack on civil rights law says a lot more about Jeff Sessions than it does about Sonia Sotomayor.” Millhiser notes that it was precisely because of his deeply rooted “hostility to the very notion of civil rights” that the Senate rejected Sessions for an appointment as a federal judge in 1986.

Millhiser cites three examples, at least two of which would qualify Sessions as racist in my book. As a federal prosecutor, Sessions conducted a “tenuous investigation” into voting rights advocates seeking to register African-American voters. The investigation ended in an unsuccessful attempt to prosecute an aide to the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Sessions referred to the NAACP and the ACLU as “un-American” and “Communist-inspired” organizations that “forced civil rights down the throats of people.” Millhiser notes that when recently confronted with these quotes, Sessions conceded they were “probably wrong,” however, he continued to stand by a statement that the Voting Rights Act is “a piece of intrusive legislation.”

Finally, Millhiser cites comments from an African-American lawyer who said Sessions referred to him as “boy” and admonished him for speaking critically to a secretary, saying, “Be careful what you say to white folks.” Oh, and Sessions also told the lawyer he had thought the Ku Klux Klan was “okay” until he found out that some of the members were pot smokers. What, did he see them smoking pot while going about their more acceptable behavior like cross burnings and lynchings? This man is questioning Sonia Sotomayor about whether she can be impartial in cases that involve racial issues? Are you kidding me?

Judge Sotomayor has remained polite and gracious throughout the baiting questions asked by Sessions and other Republicans on the committee. She has to do this because if she has a meltdown it might jeopardize her confirmation. So, on her behalf and my own I say to Jefferson Beauregard “Jeff” Sessions III, junior senator from Alabama and ranking Republican on the Senate Judiciary Committee: Shut the hell up!

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

With healthcare reform on more people’s lips these days than Botox is in them, it seems fitting to share a few observations based on my experience as a medical writer and reporter. This thought was triggered by the recent report that Arnold Klein, a dermatologist in Beverly Hills, is the biological father of two of Michael Jackson’s children.

Dr. Klein is known within his specialty as an expert in performing aesthetic procedures (including those involving Botox) and his seminars and workshops are always jam-packed with clinicians eager to learn his latest techniques. I witnessed this phenomenon a few years ago while covering a meeting of the Hawaii Dermatology Seminar in Maui.  I know, it was a tough job but someone had to do it.

I’ve been connected with dermatology since the late 1970s, when I began a nine-year stint as editor of the Dermatology News. As such I was on hand for the first presentation on the cosmetic use of botulinim toxin (Botox), the first on topical minoxidil (Rogaine) to regrow hair, and the first in the United State on liposuction, given by Pierre Fournier—the French inventor of the procedure. The latter was memorable for a mind-numbing series of slides featuring before-and-after photos of numerous bare buttocks of female patients. “Here are zee saddlebags,” Dr. Fournier would say, aiming a laser pointer at the offending derriere. “And here are zee buttocks after zee procedure.”

In March I covered the 67th annual meeting of the American Academy of Dermatology as a freelancer. My assignment was to comb through the voluminous material presented at the five-day meeting in San Francisco and gather information on promising new drugs and products in development. Much of what I needed could be found among the several thousand scientific posters displayed. But the poster that grabbed my attention most was one on gentian violet, an old standby that has been around since the late 1800s and was used worldwide for decades to treat a wide range of infections.

It is rarely used for that purpose today in the US. At first it was nostalgia that drew me to the poster. Seeing the words “gentian violet” for the first time in decades brought back warm memories of my mother applying the purple stuff to a myriad of childhood cuts and scrapes. I liked that it didn’t burn like iodine and I thought the purple color was kind of cool. Who cared if it was greasy and stained the bed sheets?

As I read the abstract and the rest of the poster it became clear there was a lot more than nostalgia that made it worthwhile. Researchers from the Department of Dermatology at the Downstate Medical Center in Brooklyn had evaluated the ability of gentian violet to kill seven strains of methicillin resistant Staphylococcus aureus (MRSA) bacteria obtained from skin wounds of patients at the medical center.

You remember MRSA. Before the swine flu stole the headlines, it was one of the biggest public health scourges since AIDS. In 2005, 19,000 documented deaths were attributed to MRSA, even more than the number of deaths caused by HIV/AIDS. “School closings from fears of infection are now commonplace across the country,” says Michael Berry, MD, a dermatology resident at Downstate and lead author of the poster.

Moreover, the rise in the number of cases of MRSA has been accompanied by its resistance to commonly used antibiotics. “MRSA is becoming an ever-increasing problem to treat,” says Dr. Berry. “Resistant strains are commonly encountered in post-surgical sites, superficial skin wounds, and leg ulcers.” And, he explains, resistance to mupirocin, the most commonly used topical antibiotic, is rising, as is resistance to other often-used topical antimicrobials. The Downstate study confirmed earlier findings of several small studies carried out in Japan. Gentian violet is 100% effective in killing five of the seven strains evaluated, and nearly 100% effective against the other two. What’s more, it is inexpensive and readily available without a prescription.

“Mupirocin costs approximately $40 for a 30-gm tube,” says Dr. Berry. “A 2-ounce bottle of gentian violet can be purchased on line for $1.99.” He and his colleagues concluded that gentian violet may be “one of the more useful drugs for the treatment of skin lesions infected with MRSA.” Its effectiveness and low cost compared to other agents, Dr. Berry says, “might make people willing to accept a little purple discoloration on the bed sheets.”

Of course people would have to know about it first and despite the best efforts of Dr. Berry and his colleagues, few do. Only three people were on hand for his oral presentation—and I was one of them. The other two were his parents. A few weeks later I had an appointment with my dermatologist. He had not heard anything about the Downstate study and was grateful for the information, saying, “I will use it in my practice.” But he was not surprised the word has not gotten out. “There is no money in it,” he explained.

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

The following stories are true. Even the names have not been changed to protect the innocent. They are selected short news articles that appeared over the years in the pages of the New York Post or the Daily News. I clipped and saved them just knowing they would come in handy some day. Here they are, with their original headlines. Enjoy!

TURKS SEE A SPECTRE

Ankara – The public prosecutor here is investigating a complaint that a map of North America shown on Turkish television looks so much like a profile of Lenin that it constitutes illegal Communist propaganda.

Map of North America in Turkey

Officials of the state-owned Turkish Radio and Television said a Turk, whom they did not identify, made the complaint to the prosecutor and an official inquiry was in progress. TRT was sending photographs of the map – used as part of a backdrop for newscasts – to the prosecutor.

Communist propaganda is illegal in Turkey.

THE BALLOT OF MICKEY MOUSE

New Braunfels, Tex. (AP) – Election officials have gone to court to stop a recount of the write-in votes for Mickey Mouse in a race for county judge. Incombent Comal County Judge Max Womack was the only candidate on the ballot in the recent general election.

Mickey Mouse was deemed unfit to hold office in Texas

Joseph Shields, editor of a Canyon Lake Weekly newspaper, has said he will file an affidavit asking for a recount, but he has not done so. Officials did not bother to count Mouse’s vote in the canvas, which Shields says they should have done.

Election officials, seeking a temporary injunction, said in their application a recount would be a waste of the taxpayers’ money. Their petition also states, “Mickey Mouse is not and has not been a resident of Comal County for six months as required by law” and that “said Mickey Mouse is an idiot, lunatic and minor and very possibly an unpardoned felon and is, therefore, according to the laws of the State of Texas, ineligible to hold office.”

BETTER TO GIVE THAN DECEIVE

Tulsa, Okla (UPI) – Goodwill Industries says that some of its Christmas donations are causing more confusion than good. Executive Director Russle Brami said that collection boxes recently produced two hand grenades, two goats, five live ducks, grass cuttings, World War II K rations, marriage licenses, camel saddles, and an assortment of live snakes and lizards.

AMIN’S MINISTER OF LOVE

KAMPALA–President Idi Amin of Uganda has fired foreign minister,

Fired frisky foreign minister

Elizabetr Bagaya, accusing her of unbecoming behavior during a trip abroad.                                  Gen. Amin was particularly annoyed to learn that Ms. Bagaya made love to an unknown European  in a bathroom at a Paris airport on her way home after representing Uganda at the UN recently, according to Radio Uganda.

PICKS OUT CASKETS, KILLS KIN & SELF

Laurium, Mich. (Knight-Ridder)–A funeral director described by a friend as “an exacting sort of fellow” shot and killed his wife and grandson before taking his own life yesterday in the family’s apartment above the funeral home.

Maynard Hulburt, 64, filled out three death certificates, picked out three caskets, and left three sets of clothing hanging in a bedroom for the victims before the killings, the police said.

TOILET FIRMS CALLED FLUSH

Washington (UPI) – A federal grand jury indicted four manufacturing companies and three of their executives today on charges of violating anti-trust laws by conspiring to fix prices of wooden toilet seats.

Michael can be reached a michael@zestoforange.com

By Michael Kaufman

If there is anything more boring than a speech at a high-school graduation ceremony, no one ever told me about it. As a father of five, uncle, grandparent, and family friend, I have sat (and slept) through more stultifying commencement addresses than I care to remember. In fact, until this month there was only one I could remember, that given by Jon Kotch, the valedictorian of my high school class of 1964 at Oceanside High.

Jon scrapped his pre-approved remarks and instead delivered a stinging critique of school administrators for suppressing independent thought and creativity for four years. It was an electrifying address but it was met with the normal amount of disinterested applause from the assembled parents and guests. Most of the audience, accustomed to hearing the usual tedious claptrap and platitudes about the “future,” had simply tuned out. “Abe Lincoln could come back from the dead and deliver the Gettysburg Address here and these people wouldn’t notice,” complained Helen Press, mother of my friend, Steve, one of the few parents who actually listened to Jon’s speech.

Two years before Jon gave his valedictory speech, Robert M. Morgenthau was the Democratic candidate for governor of NY State. I took part in his campaign as a 16-year-old member of the Junior Democrats. Unfortunately, my memory of the event, which ended in a lopsided victory for Nelson Rockefeller, betrayed me when I met Mr. Morgenthau last year at the Storm King School in Cornwall.

Our daughters were performing in a play together and since the girls are friends I thought it would be a nice gesture to introduce myself. As we shook hands I added, “I campaigned for you when you ran for Nassau County Executive.” His puzzled expression was enough to tell me I had misspoken. “Fishkill!” was all he said by way of correction. “Fishkill!” he repeated merrily before sauntering down the aisle to take his seat. It was my turn to be puzzled…until I learned that in addition to his longtime regular job as Manhattan District Attorney, Mr. Morgenthau likes to spend time on the family apple farm in Fishkill in Dutchess County, far from the suburban climes of Nassau.

This I learned from Mr. Morgenthau as he delivered the guest speech  just three weeks ago at the Storm King graduation. His daughter Amy, the youngest of his five children, was among the graduates. Morgenthau, who

Robert M. Morgenthau with his daughter Amy following his graduation speech at the Storm King School in Cornwall.

will turn 90 next month, has been Manhattan DA since 1975, winning seven consecutive elections and countless convictions along the way. In February he announced that he will not seek re-election and will retire at the end of the year. His fabled career inspired the television series “Law and Order.”

Nobody tuned out his speech, which he began by noting that Storm King has been around since the Civil War (speaking of Abe Lincoln) and adding a quip alluding to his own longevity. From then on he spoke forthrightly about issues that now face our country and that will bear on the lives of the graduates for years to come.

He praised Storm King’s officials for “internationalizing” the school, half of whose students hail from Pacific Rim countries like Japan, China, and Korea. “The planet keeps getting smaller,” he said, “and it is important that we Americans reach out across the seas to our neighbors rather than consider ourselves ‘exceptional’ and try to go it alone.”

He spoke of the close relationship that existed between Storm King and Deerfield, the Massachusetts school from which he graduated 72 years ago. At Deerfield, he said, headmaster Frank Boyden “joined the boys from the farms and the mills with the children of the privileged to create a community in which no one cared which was which.

“I finished high school in 1937,” he continued. “It was not a happy time. Economically, we were mired in the Great Depression and the drums of war were sounding.” Now, he told the students, it is their turn to deal with hard times. “Economically, we face the worst crisis since the Great Depression. The US is threatened by enemies, some of whom have, or soon may have, nuclear weapons. We are torn internally as to whether tactics we have used against our opponents have made us too much like our enemies.” At this some of the adults in attendance shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

He had no platitudes or “magic answers” for the students but instead drew on his own life experiences for guidance. Soon after he enlisted in the Navy in 1940 he learned that “you can’t row a boat unless everyone is pulling in the same direction. You see infinitely varied skills and personalities, and virtually everyone will make a contribution to the common effort if you dig until you find the skill that each person brings to the table and make room for them to employ those skills.”

He told of serving on a destroyer on convoy duty in the Mediterranean during World War II when a torpedo hit a nearby transport. The ship exploded and sank, killing all 580 men aboard. “A second torpedo sank our ship,” he continued. “Every convoy’s standing orders were quite clear and strict: If a ship went down, every other ship in the convoy must sail on, lest other ships be hit as well. But that night, two destroyer escorts manned by the Coast Guard ignored the orders. They stopped and, at intense risk to themselves, shined their searchlights on the waters until they could fish out the men from my destroyer. The captains of those ships did not go to prep school but they had somewhere learned what I am trying to convey to you now. Work as a team, remember where you came from, and leave no comrade behind.”

From World War II he shifted to current events, offering a ringing endorsement of Sonia Sotomayor, President Obama’s Supreme Court nominee. Judge Sotomayor spent five years in Manhattan as an Assistant District Attorney “prosecuting murderers, child pornographers, and just about any other kind of criminal you can imagine,” he recalled. “She illustrates the basic principle of the American credo…It didn’t stop with Abe Lincoln. If you are an individual with talent who will work hard, you can be promoted to any position your skills earn.

“The American Dream does not always come true,” he cautioned. “Life can never be that simple. But Judge Sotomayor’s example shows that it is a dream well worth pursuing.” His remarks on behalf of Judge Sotomayor drew loud applause, save for the the same few who again shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

His parting advice: “Use the next few years to explore knowledge and your own mind before working too hard on a career. Be loyal to those in your past. Look for the best in the people you meet down the road, appreciate their diverse talents, and work with them to resolve today’s challenges.” He received a standing ovation.

Don’t tell Kotch but I think Morgenthau’s speech may have been even better than his.

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

A while back I received a phone call from my friend Dominick. “Have you talked to Paul Friedman?” he asked.
“Not recently. Why?”
“You didn’t know he had had a heart attack?”
“Paul Friedman had a heart attack?”
“Yeah… I’m surprised no one told you. He’s home now. You should give him a call.”

Paul and I have been friends since our college days at New Paltz. I was the best man at his wedding. We rarely get together now but when we do, it is like old times…so much so that Paul’s wife Jean and my wife Eva-Lynne are appalled at our reversion to youthful immaturity and bathroom humor. For example, one of us will inevitably ask, “What is your favorite opera?” The other will answer with a slight mispronunciation that gives a lewd connotation to the title of a Verdi masterpiece. It makes us laugh (and the wives scowl) every time.

And we laugh when Paul does his impression of Mr. Nana, the man who delivered sandwiches from Nana’s Restaurant to the New Paltz dorms at night. Once, when he was finished distributing the sandwiches and there was no one else around, Mr. Nana told us a lurid tale that involved the perverse use of a Coke bottle by some of the local townies. Paul remembers it word for word and recites it with the exact accent and inflection of the original. Just thinking about it makes me laugh.

Now, braced for the worst after learning of his heart attack, I forced myself to call. Would his speech be slurred? Had he become permanently enfeebled? But he answered the phone in full strong voice. 

“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Fine,” he replied.
“How is the family?”
“Good. How is your family?”
“We’re all good,” I said. “We should get together soon.”
“Yes, we should,” he answered. Before hanging up we said we would speak to our wives and make plans.

“How is he?” asked Eva-Lynne.
“Fine,” I said.
“What did he say about the heart attack?”
“He didn’t mention it.”
“And you didn’t ask about it?”
 “If he wanted to talk about it he would have,” I replied.
She disagreed and insisted that “any woman” would have questioned her heart-attack-victim friend about it even if said victim did not introduce the subject. In the days that followed we took an informal poll among our acquaintances. The results should come as no surprise. All the men thought I had handled the situation wisely. The women agreed with Eva-Lynne.

I thought of all this as I read through the responses to my first posting at Zest of Orange, wherein I shared some thoughts about the manner in which I was informed by my employer that I had just lost my job. In addition to appearing here, the article was published in the Bergen Record, the Straus chain of local weekly newspapers, and elsewhere on line. I also sent copies to friends and family members. Clearly the article struck a chord. With few exceptions, however, there were noticeable differences between responses from men and women.
                
“Well, lucky you,” wrote my old friend, Jack Radey, “being at liberty in an economy just desperate to hire men in their early 60s!  Well, there’s always the attic. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Hey!” wrote high-school friend Alan Ellman. “Sorry to hear about you losing your job. I lost mine 3 weeks ago. We’re both in deep (bleep). Of course, since the economy is so favorable right now, I’m sure we’ll both find something very soon. AAAAGGGHHHH!”

“Capitalism is certainly proving its marvelous mettle these days, isn’t it?” wrote another high-school chum, the left-leaning Jon Rothschild. “But try not to worry,” he added. “It’ll all turn around once WWIII gets under way, just like it did last time.”

Another heart-warming reply came from Joe Popper, my old writing partner with whom I collaborated on some investigative reporting some 30 years ago: “Yo Mike,” he wrote. “Great column! Take good care, Joe”

So much for the men.

“My name is Daisy,” wrote a woman who had seen the article in the Warwick Advertiser. “My family also lives in Warwick. I read your story and I was so proud of what you wrote. You are a person with courage and integrity.”

“Loved your article,” wrote DeAnna, of Milford, PA, “but I am very sorry you lost your job. Seems we are all just a moment away and I do feel your pain. Thanks for taking the time to write. Good luck in your job search.  I truly wish you and your family the best.”

My high-school sweetheart, Janet Metzlaar, sent a 650-word email sharing what she learned from her own experiences. “When…in spite of our good will and good effort there is no longer a place for us, we find ourselves at a moment of opportunity,” she declared….Not going into an office, not being surrounded by people who don’t get our contribution….this is a gift of time. It is a rare opportunity to explore what you really want to do and tap into the creative talents that have lain dormant while you pursued the tasks of the workday.” And, according to Janet, “If you can keep the panic attacks to a minimum and retain a sense of optimism, it may be the best thing that happened to you this century.”

Janet has faced more than her share of hardships this century and last without losing her sense of optimism. I find it admirable and wish I were less skeptical. Still, losing my job somehow doesn’t strike me as such a great opportunity.

The day the article ran in the Bergen Record I got a phone call from Paul Friedman. “I’m calling to tell you that I was just in the bathroom reading the paper,” he said cheerfully. “I saw your article…I almost fell off the toilet!”

We still haven’t talked about the heart attack.

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.

By Michael Kaufman

 If you ever have to fire me, please don’t tell me how hard it is for you. Believe me, it is a lot harder for me. It is also not the best time to tell me how much you like me and what a “nice guy” you think I am. You may be too young to remember Leo Durocher but every time someone tells me that it reminds me of the statement that immortalizes him even more than his baseball feats and failures: “Nice guys finish last.”

“This isn’t personal” is another expression you might consider avoiding while explaining to a person that he is losing his job. Who do you think you are firing, a cow?

Don’t get me wrong. I know it is hard for you. I happen to have some experience in this regard, once having been called on to fire 6 people who reported to me in the editorial department of a medical publishing company that had fallen on hard times. To prepare me I received expert training from the head of human resources at our parent company, an affable fellow named Lou, who brought me to corporate headquarters to begin the lessons.

“Okay,” he began. “Pretend that I’m Barbara and you just called me into your office. What is the first thing you are going to say?” Barbara, a secretary, was an excellent worker and also a devoted single parent of a young son.

I looked at Lou and said, “Barbara, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you…”

“No!” he interrupted. “That is not what you do. You have to make small talk first…get them feeling comfortable. Try again.”

“Hi Barbara,” I said. “How do you like those Mets?”

But eventually I got the hang of it and when it was time, I performed professionally, appearing calm even through the awful shrieks, wails, and cries of desperation that punctuated several of the sessions. Lou was there to witness it all. When it was over I called my wife and began to share the anguish I had somehow managed to keep in check. Before I could finish Lou took the phone from me to tell her what a great job I had done and how proud she should be of the way I had handled it.

In the awful, sleepless nights before, I handled it quite differently: I was John Garfield in a movie, telling my bosses, “Sure, sure…You want me to do your dirty work for you. Well I won’t do it. If you want to fire these people you are going to have to do it yourselves…or get yourself another boy…because I QUIT!”

A few months later I lost my job when the parent company decided to close the place. As part of my severance package I was given two months of outplacement services. One day at outplacement I heard a familiar voice speaking on the phone in the cubicle next to mine. It was Lou.

Listen, I know how it feels. If you must get choked up or teary eyed, please wait until I am out of the room. Maybe it would be better if you did it the way they used to in the old movies or comic strips: Mr. Dithers to my Dagwood Bumstead. Glare at me and snarl, “Kaufman, you’re fired!” But please don’t make me feel bad for you. I don’t care if you are an old friend or someone I barely know. You still have your job. I have to figure out how I am going to support myself and my family now that I don’t have mine.

Michael can be reached at michael@zestoforange.com.