Big Announcement, "Las Vegas, My Vantage Point."

In 1973 my best friend's father wrote and self-published a book about the history of Las Vegas and some of his experiences working there as a security guard titled "Play Like The Dealers Play". It is part history and part memoir from a man who mostly lived, and worked, in Las Vegas from 1945 until his death in 1998.

For many reasons, most of them having to do with money, the book never sold very well. When you think aboout it, in 1973 if you wanted to reach a lot of people you had to have money to pay for ads in magazines, newspapers and television. The point being, it was long before the internet.

A few years ago my friend and I were talking, and as has happened quite often we started talking about our fathers, men who never quite lived up to their potential. At one point int he conversation I said, "if they were alive and working today they would either be wealthy or locked up." The point being that with the internet it seems that the potential for reaching the world is unlimited. I believe that for our fathers that would have meant success.

A short time later my friend came to me with a copy of his father's book and asked if I thought we could do something with it, make it available as an ebook, self-publish with a print on demand publisher, or any other option. We first decided we needed to edit and do a little re-write, not much, just a little. We also decided on a new title, the working title is - "Las Vegas, My Vantage Point." For my contributions we have decided I will be listed as co-author.

So, now we, my friend and I, think we are ready to publish. We have set October first as our target date for an ebook through Amazon. Look for it and let me know what you think.

PS - The pictures posted last week are probably going to be the front and back covers.

Customer Service

I guess I am once again going to talk about customer service. It just took 45 minutes on the phone to accomplish something with my cable company. Mind you, the thing I accomplished was to schedule a service technician to come to my house. I didn’t address any of my concerns or questions about my cable service, just got a tech scheduled to come to my house.

Last weekend my wife and I were talking about the fact that we were paying for some options on our cable service that we were not using and others which were not functioning. Being a man of action I pulled out the latest bill which informed me that I could call or contact them by email. Since it was the weekend I opted to send an email. I wrote out my concerns and later that day I received an auto-reply telling me that my email had been received and I would hear from someone within two business days. That’s a good joke.

On Wednesday, three business days after the auto-reply, I wrote another email asking if anyone was going to call me about my email. On Friday, five business days after the auto-reply, I gave up on email and called the customer service phone number. The first person who answered the phone, after five minutes wandering through the phone menu and sitting on hold, informed me that my account showed nothing about my email and my concerns. This was disconcerting since I had listed my name and account number as part of the email the weekend before. To help this young lady out I pulled up the email I had sent to her company and read it to her. Her reaction was that maybe I should be talking to tech support and they could walk me through my issues, this of course would require me to be sitting in front of my TV and cable box. Not much help I told her, I was not sitting at home but at my office on my lunch break, the crunching sound you hear is me eating my carrots in an effort to lose weight, lower my blood pressure and address my cholesterol.

After almost ten minutes I asked to speak with a supervisor. I was again put on hold and about ten minutes later, I did check the time and it was actually eight minutes, that’s close to ten. The man who came on the phone, I later learned his name was Dallas, had such a thick accent I first asked him his name and then where he was calling from, based on what I was hearing I figured I was talking to someone in India. Dallas assured me he was in Seattle and would help me. Again I found out that the people answering the phone for customer service could not access the request for assistance I had sent by email almost a week earlier. I read my email to Dallas.

As I described my issues Dallas asked what my TV screen said when I encountered the different issues. So, again I told Dallas, this time, that I was not sitting in front of my TV, after all it was the middle of the day on a Friday and I do have a job in order to pay for my cable service. Finally out of frustration I informed Dallas that the only way my issues were going to be resolved was for him to send out a technician/repairman, Monday morning would be a good time. We had two other repairmen already scheduled to return to finish appliance repairs after having to order parts. So Dallas scheduled the repairman to come out on Monday, at last something accomplished.

Friday afternoon, about an hour after I got off the phone with Dallas, I got an email from the technical services department of the cable company. It apologized for the inconvenience but it should all be good now that the technician was scheduled to come out on Monday. Basically, no harm no foul. Wow, great customer service.
The customer service saga continues. For two weeks our oven has not worked and our clothes dryer has been torn apart. This is why I pay for a home warranty. The repair of these items was covered under our home warranty. We called for service, the repairman were dispatched and came out at the time they said they would. Two different repairman from two different companies for two home appliances that either one of them could have repaired but two different companies just the same.

Both repairmen determined that they needed to replace parts on the appliances, the oven and dryer. Of course neither of these men carried the parts on their trucks, nor as it turned out did their respective companies have the parts back at their shops or warehouses. Then we were informed that the parts had to come from the home warranty company’s warehouse in Dallas, Texas. I’m in northern California but the parts are coming from Dallas, Texas. Makes a lot of sense right. The repairmen were at my house on Tuesday, on Thursday they both, coincidentally, called to say the respective parts were in but they were not available to come out until Monday. So, this would be our second weekend without an oven and a clothes dryer. What could we do? We set the appointments for Monday morning, my wife was able to take the day off so now she was scheduled to have three different repairmen in our home working on different appliances on Monday morning.

Could this get more convoluted? Those who have dealt with even the most minor of home repairs know the answer is yes.

On Sunday afternoon my wife received a phone call informing her that the man repairing the oven had to report for jury duty on Monday morning and may not be able to make it on Monday. My wife got off the phone and told me and I questioned this statement. When did courts start calling people on the weekend to tell them to show up for jury duty the next day? Every time I’ve gotten a notice to show up for jury duty I had at least two weeks notice. But what could we do?

Monday morning, before any of the service people arrived my wife received a phone call telling her that the serviceman repairing the oven had to report for jury duty that morning so they needed to reschedule the appointment to Wednesday and they were sure he would be at our house on Wednesday. The cable repairman showed up right on time and seems to have addressed the technical issues, we still have to address billing issues. About the time the dryer repairman was due to show up his office called to say he had been in an accident and they would need to reschedule. That was the final straw for my wife. After a few choice words the company assured her someone would be at our home that day to finish the dryer repair.

So, it is Wednesday afternoon. The dryer is working, the cable is working better, and the oven repairman was on his way to the house this morning at 10 AM. I haven’t been able to get hold of my so I hope that when I return home this evening I will find that our oven is working again.

Throughout all of this my wife and I have spent several hours on the phone with the cable company, the home warranty company and each of the service companies contracted by these people to complete the repairs. We have written checks to each company for our deductible, we have rearranged schedules and done everything we have been asked to do to get these repairs completed. In return we have been lied to, left hanging without return calls, asked to diagnose the problems ourselves, advised that we could probably fix the problems ourselves and ultimately been treated like we were spoiled children asking for one more treat after a day of gorging ourselves on treats. During all of this I had to deal with a car dealership where I had a gift certificate for service from my children, but that is another story entirely.

So, all of this again prompts the question what has happened to the concept of customer service?

Good Guys, do they really exist

As I sit here reading a memo that says I may have backed a loser, once again, I think of two sayings that lately seem to encompass my mission statement. The first is, “no good deed goes unpunished”, and the second is “insanity is doing the same thing over and over again while looking for a different result.” I do not mean to imply that I am either a “do gooder” or insane. Most people would agree that I am not the first and there would be lively debate about the second. Regardless, it is my point of view today.

For months I have been approaching and pulling back from the precipice, thinking I was ready to make the leap into a business venture that I believe has tremendous, almost unlimited, potential. However each time I think I am ready to make the leap something happens, usually in my private life that makes me stop mid stride and hold off, wait for this latest emergency to be resolved.

The latest is a family member, who shall go unnamed or otherwise identified, who every time we turn around is in some form of crisis. One week she quit her job because they weren’t showing her sufficient compassion while she handled the stress of her daughter’s unsuccessful suicide attempt. I found it more than a little hard to be compassionate. The unsuccessful suicide attempt was just that unsuccessful. It was also at least three months prior to the decision to quit the job, which by the way was a part-time job in a retail store. I’m sorry but just how stressful is that really.

This weeks crisis is a move from a women’s shelter to a private house. At first it sounded good, get out of a heavily regulated environment and return to truly independent living. At least she wasn’t asking to live with me. We heard that the move was happening, fortunately it was during a weekday and working hours so we didn’t have to physically participate. The next thing we heard was that we would not be allowed to visit for at least two weeks maybe a month. Now I have no intention of visiting but my wife, her relative, was quite upset by this news and asked why?. The response was that one of the other tenants of the house had just been placed on house arrest and the terms included no visitors to the residence. How do I get those terms? I mean I think I could handle not having people, friends and family members, just dropping by or being able to tell them that the court says they can’t come by.

You might ask how these things affect me. Well, I’m married to a beautiful, compassionate woman. Opposites do attract and we are living proof as I am usually described as an ugly #@#@#@#. Anyway if there is anyone that I try to be nice to it is my wife, after all she knows where I sleep and even feeds me from time to time, two things that could make her especially dangerous to me.

So, I guess this was more of a rant and release than anything of substance. My point is that sometimes no matter how hard we try to be the good guys we still get bit.

On a more positive note on Saturday afternoon I sat on a beach and watched as five or six dolphins swam past, jumping and diving, oblivious to me and how much joy it brings me each time I see them.

I’ve been back from Kauai for almost two weeks now and I have a few thoughts to share. Also, I heard that if I talk about the trip on my blog, call it research for future postings, I can write off the trip. I haven’t checked with my accountant but I was constantly making notes and thinking about content for future writings. I’ll face the tax issue next year at tax time.

I spent seven days on the island of Kauai, arriving mid afternoon on Saturday and leaving mid morning the following Saturday. Friends have shared their opinions about the Hawaiian islands and which is the “best”. I have learned that such a determination is purely subjective. I have only visited Oahu and Kauai so I’m no expert. One friend stated that she likes Maui more than Kauai. When I asked why she stated that Maui has more night life, Kauai was to quiet. I’ve heard others express the same sentiment. Those who truly know, in my opinion, have told me you visit the different islands for different things. I like the relative quiet of Kauai.

The literature tells me that the majority of Kauai is nature preserve and uninhabited with large areas mostly unaccessible. It also says that Kauai is home to some of the wettest places on the planet receiving rainfall, at least three hundred days a year in some spots. It is green and beautiful with white sand beaches and volcanic mountains criss-crossing the island.

I'm told that tourism is the primary industry on Kauai, and it has been embraced by many. I like to participate in some of the more interesting activities. This year I was able to ride an ATV through the old sugar cane fields and ride ziplines above the valleys of a working cattle ranch. The ATV ride is on dirt trails and gave me the opportunity to “Do Something Dirty”, as the company’s website and literature encourages. As we rode around the dirt trails we would find dips and potholes in the trail filled with rainwater. Being a big kid I took the opportunity to speed through these “puddles” sending mud and water high into the air and getting quite a bit of it on myself. It was fun.

The ziplines are a very dry sport, unless you’re one of the unlucky participants who wets themselves due to the anxiety of riding a wire strung between two hilltops. I had the distinction of being both the oldest, and biggest, member of our group. The age thing wasn’t an issue but size, they made everybody stand on a scale before we went out to the ranch. The company’s website had warned me of this and I was below the weigh limit when I arrived on Kauai, but that was three days before I went on the zipline, I was concerned, who hasn’t gained weight on vacation. I made the weight limit. It was an awesome experience to be zipping along above the treetops.

I will return to Kauai in the future and I will ride ATVs and ziplines again.

When I think about it I think everybody who was in the group would ride ATVs again. I can’t say the same thing about the ziplines. One woman in the group was there with her college student daughter. According to this woman, I’ll call her “Ann”, she didn’t realize this was a zipline tour. When I heard that I asked her if her daughter had booked the tour without telling her what it was. Ann’s response was no, she had booked the tour herself but had not understood it was ziplines, she thought she had signed up for one of the hiking tours run by the same company.

Our zipline tour consisted of nine ziplines and lunch at a small swimming hole with a water fall. From the first zipline to the last our entire group knew how many ziplines were left in the tour. As soon as we finished one zipline Ann would announce, that was number one, eight more to go, and so on for each zipline through the end at number nine. I never heard Ann say she wasn’t going to, or couldn’t ride the zipline, I got the impression she was going to do it because she had signed up for it. But, it was clear that she was not enjoying the tour as much as the rest of us.

Santa David

For the last 15 years, or so, I have dressed up as Santa Claus. This began with taking pictures with my grandchildren and grown from there. The last 10 years I have also been asked to play Santa at the children’s Christmas party at our church. This is mostly a fun experience. Over the years my wife, children, and even my grandchildren have become more comfortable with me wearing the Santa suit. The usual routine is for me to have the grandchildren come to our house and I put the suit on, without the fake beard and wig, and we take pictures. This can be fun and we have pictures of our grandchildren as they have grown and my own beard has changed from brown to white. When I play Santa at the church party I arrive and attend the party in my “street” clothes mingling with the crowd and receiving friendly inquiries from parents as to who Santa is this year. At some point during the party I slip out of the meeting hall and find a private office where I change into the suit and return to the meeting hall as the crowd sings “Here Comes Santa Claus.” Most years this process goes off without a hitch, but one year I had worked with the children’s ministry all year, mostly teaching and leading music so when I was asked to appear at the Christmas party I pointed out that fact. The party organizers didn’t think that would be a problem so I planned on playing Santa that year. On the night of the party I arrived and went about as normal. Finally the time came for me to appear in the Santa suit. As usual I entered the room ringing sleigh bells and calling out to the crowd. After taking my seat the children lined up and began approaching. One boy, who was 5 that year, waited patiently in line then when it was his turn to approach me he stopped in front of me and looked me squarely in the face and announced loudly to the entire crowd, “that’s not Santa, that’s Mr. Sullivan.” The boys older brother, and several other older children, immediately surrounded the offender and repeatedly told him that he was mistaken. As other children made their way up to sit on Santa’s lap the little boy, and his outburst, was quickly forgotten. The rest of the night went off without a hitch. Of course this was not the only time that an issue arose while I was in the Santa suit. A few years ago my wife decided that our Christmas card should include photos of me in the Santa suit at different locations around the area and places we visited. This means that when we go different places we bring the Santa suit along with us. Usually water is also involved as we enjoy kayaking, swimming and other water related activities. One year my wife was determined to take the Christmas Card picture at a small lake in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains. With that in mind we loaded a kayak on top of the truck and the santa suit in the backseat and headed for the hills. After driving for several hours criss-crossing the foothills we still had not found the desired lake. Once again I suggested a lake, only 45 minutes from our home. My wife finally relented and we drove to this small lake nestled in a valley with forested hills rising above it on all sides. It was a unseasonably warm fall day and we were surprised to find several families with power boats at, or around, the boat launch when we arrived. I drove down to the boat launch and unloaded the kayak. My wife sat with the kayak while I found a parking spot and got dressed for the pictures. It was only as I put the suit on I realized it was Halloween. All the more fun. I had no sooner got the suit on than a family with no small children, but several teenagers, drove into the parking area from the boat launch with their boat in tow. While all of the family called out to me one teenage boy yelled, “Santa, I want a Red Ryder BB gun for Christmas!” Without thinking I responded, as I wagged my finger, “you’ll shoot your eye out.” As I kept walking toward the boat launch I heard the boy and the rest of his party howling with laughter. The road to the boat launch makes two turns before reaching the water. Along the way I ran into several other parties and got my picture taken with half a dozen young ladies ranging in age from mid-teens to late twenties. A reaction I’ve become somewhat used to. Once I reached the water I launched the kayak and my wife started taking pictures. About an hour later I was back in my regular clothes and we were on our way home. We had very positive responses to our Christmas card that year. My favorite picture, we put several on the card, is a shot from the backside of my wife and I standing on the end of the dock holding hands and her head is resting on my shoulder. Having played Santa for so many years there are many more stories I could share. But I will save some for another day.

Family trip - San Francisco

When my oldest daughter turned 14 the thing she wanted most for her birthday was a trip to San Francisco. We had moved to the Sacramento area, about 100 miles from the City, less than two years before that date. We had never been to San Francisco prior to that time so it was a big deal. My daughter being a teenager didn’t just want to go to San Francisco, she wanted to go to Haight Ashbury.

I was in law school at the time, money was tight and we didn’t get to go places as a family very often but we made our plans. We left home by 9:00 AM and got to San Francisco before noon. Much to our children’s dismay we packed a lunch to eat as we walked around. They of course wanted to eat at some fast food restaurant.

Our first stop was Fisherman’s Wharf, specifically Pier 39. The weather was good and it was fun to both look at the shops and the interesting people along the wharf. Our youngest daughter was a little frightened by the seals laying around on the docks. The seagulls caused her concern also. Somehow we left the pier without incident or injury.

With my trusty map we made our way across the city to Haight Ashbury. I was surprised that what we found was an area of about two blocks. Having grown up in the 60's I had heard stories about Haight Ashbury and expected to find a larger area. In addition to finding it smaller than expected I was surprised by the number of panhandlers. We had seen street performers and panhandlers at Fisherman’s Wharf but the number at Haight Ashbury was possibly greater, in a smaller area. The street performers were panhandlers trying to be inventive and not very good at any type of performance.

We found a parking spot and started walking down the street. My daughter quickly saw a store she wanted to visit. That began what would be the pattern for the rest of our time in the “Haight”. My daughter stated she wanted to look at a store, my wife would tell me they were going into the store, I would take our other two children by the hand and we would stand on the curb in front of the store where I could see the interior of the store. Once my wife saw that I was in position she and our daughter would enter the store while I stayed on the curb keeping watch.

As we proceeded down the street stopping at different stores I became aware that we were not the only family visiting the “Haight”. Pretty soon my younger children and I were standing in front of stores alongside other fathers were younger children, all of us watching our wives and teenaged daughters looking at the different stores.

We went down one side of the street, me looking through store windows, my wife and daughter exploring inside. I’m not sure what the cross street is called but we quickly reached a point that clearly ended our area of interest, we crossed the street and worked our way back to our car in the same manner. Surprisingly our younger children were well behaved and did not fuss during this entire time. I suppose that can be attributed to the number of panhandlers and so-called performers along the street, my children were entertained.

Once back at our car we climbed in and headed back towards home. A successful, family trip.

D(x)4 - Update

I was reminded recently that I have not posted an update, in a while, of the progress of our CD. The short explanation is that we have sidetracked by more important matters.

Last time I wrote about our CD we were in rehearsals and thought we were almost ready to start recording. Thinking about it I am reminded of a quote I have heard over the years, “men make plans and God laughs”. In light of some of the obstacles each of us has overcome during our lifetimes I try to keep that in mind.

Right after Christmas Dwight was diagnosed with prostrate cancer. Last week he began intensive chemotherapy. This news has made all of us step back and reflect on what is truly important in our lives. At this time, recording a CD is not the most important, although Dwight assures me that he is continuing to compile songs that he thinks we should be looking at for our CD. His sense of humor is just a little sick. Last week he gave me a list of songs and told me to pick two to sing at his funeral. I had to laugh, but the truth is if he does die we will be singing one of those songs.

No one has suggested that we find someone new to take Dwight’s place in the group. It’s not that we couldn’t find someone, all of us could be replaced. But it’s not time. There is no hurry .

So, for now D(x)4 is on hiatus. Each of us continue to sing with other choirs and small groups when we have the opportunity. We’re all continuing to identify and accumulate songs we want to perform together, either live or in the studio. One day, in the not to distant future, we will be back together. Last week we all stopped at Dwight’s house in the evening and managed to sing a couple of songs before he was to worn out to sing any more. He was tired when we left, but he was also smiling.

Channel Islands Navy

In 1971 my father launched the “Channel Islands Navy”. Seeing this in print some may think that this was just a figment of his imagination, others may wonder at the delusions of grandeur. Neither opinion is correct. In the winter of 1971 dad began work on a boat in the living room of our apartment. You may ask why in the living room, the answer is we didn’t have a garage and winters in Oxnard can get quite wet.
By June of 1971 dad had finished my boat, a prototype of a kayak, which could be carried in the backseat or trunk of a full-size sedan. The kayak came apart in three pieces, a seating compartment with a nose and rear which both detached and fit in the compartment for carrying. He had started with huge foam blocks, four feet long, by three feet wide and two feet thick. The idea was to be able to lock, and unlock, the end pieces from the middle making a solid body kayak which was completely portable.
After working for almost six months and trying, and failing, to develop the proper locking device, in June 1971 dad had a working prototype. So, in the middle of the week, just before dark my mom and us kids, Carol, Calvin and I, watched dad load the kayak in the trunk of our 1963 Cadillac Sedan DeVille and then we all piled in the car to go try the maiden voyage of our boat. Dad was relieved to see that the beach was almost deserted as we parked as close to the water as we could. I helped dad take the boat out of the trunk as my mother stood with the Super 8 movie camera and filmed our historic moment.
As usual Calvin couldn’t stand still and was quickly involved in chasing down seagulls. Carol stayed near the car and tried to look uninterested. I on the other hand remained front and center, involved and excited. Because I had helped at each stage of planning and building the kayak my dad had already determined that I should be the first one to take it out in the water. Besides which, if it sank I could probably swim back and if not my dad would be available and ready to pull me, and the kayak, out of the water, a feat I didn’t think I could do for him.
With no fanfare, my dad and I locked the kayak together while my mom filmed our progress. Thank fully it went together without incident. Dad later said it was all he could hope for, the boat locked together without a problem. Now the final test, would it float? Dad slid the front of the kayak into the water and I settled myself in the middle. Dad handed me the paddle, gave the boat a push and I took off.
It took all my concentration to paddle the boat over the small waves. When I looked back at the beach I saw my mom slap my dad on the shoulder, she told me later that he had been holding his breath since I left the beach.
Within a few minutes my dad took the movie camera from my mom and began yelling instructions to me. I must have paddled around for about 20 minutes. Every time I looked at the beach both my parents were watching me in the boat. I don’t think either of them looked at Calvin or Carol during that entire time. Some people would say that we were lucky they were still alive when we headed back to the car and found Carol still standing next to the car waiting for us. Of course it took us almost ten minutes to find Calvin. Nothing unusual about that. He was under the pier digging in the sand.
As we dismantled the boat dad began asking me questions, he needed to know every detail. There wasn’t any water in the bottom of the boat and the detachable pieces had stayed locked together just like he wanted them to. I told him the boat had floated along just like it was on wheels, or glass. It was a success. In just a few minutes we had the boat detached and the ends nested back in the middle and the whole boat stowed back in the trunk. Now we just had to get the film developed and show it to some investors.
This was the beginning of the Channel Islands Navy, our first watercraft.
Over the next six months my dad drug our little home movie projector, and the boat, to at least a dozen offices showing people both the movie and the boat itself. A lot of people found the whole concept quite interesting, the movie really played well. But, despite all the hard work he put into it the kayak, the whole concept, just didn’t sale. Again, like so many other things he had developed and tried to sale over the years he couldn’t get the kayak sold.
Still, dad was determined to do something with the concept of the “Channel Islands Navy”. After all we lived in Oxnard, California where anything that could have the name Channel Islands on it did. In addition to Channel Islands Boulevard, Channel Islands High School, there was also Channel Islands Dry Cleaners, Channel Donuts and at least two dozen other assorted businesses. Today there is even California State University Channel Islands, it is a popular name, so we were almost surprised that we could not find the Channel Islands Navy in existence already. Anyway, despite his limited art abilities dad developed a logo and a working concept.
Over the next six months dad ran ads, as cheaply as possible, in different magazines like Popular Science, etc. The ad copy read, “Are you officer material? Join the Channel Islands Navy and become an officer. Send a check for $10.00 and the form below to ANS, Inc., and receive your certificate of commission as an officer in the Channel Islands Navy.” During that initial six month run dad sold just a few more than 1,000 commissions, certificates that identified the holder as a captain, commodore, commander, even an admiral, whichever the buyer requested. So, he made a little money, after the expense of ads and materials, but the Channel Islands Navy was not the success he was convinced it could be.
Over the next few years whenever dad had, or “found”, some extra money he renewed the ads and tried selling more “commissions” in the Channel Islands Navy. Despite the fact that he tried a dozen different small magazines, he never found the one, or combination of magazines, that were right combination to provide the exposure, and audience, needed to give him a large enough return on investment.
It appeared that my mother took this latest venture in stride. Of course by that time my parents had been married for almost twenty years and she had been through this before. Even though she had been through this before my mother did not simply shrug her shoulders and let my dad go off and try crazy things. When she saw him becoming obsessed, her word, with the Channel Islands Navy, she advised caution. Like with previous ventures she expressed concern that dad remember that they had three children to support. Whenever I overheard a comment like that I asked myself, how could he forget!
Dad continued to pursue the Channel Islands Navy until about 1976 when it all became just too much. After failed businesses, heart attacks, bypass surgery, etc., it seemed like the right time to just let a lot of those things go and focus on staying alive.

My six year old grandson has been called “Monster” since he was old enough to walk. So it was no surprise when shortly afer he entered kindergarten my daughter received a call from the school to talk about Hayden and his behavior.

My daughter was quite calm and undisturbed when she called the principal to talk about Hayden. A few minutes into the conversation my daughter thought there was a problem. When the principal stopped in her explanation my daughter asked, “what is this boy’s name?” This caught the principal by surprise who responded, “Hayden”. So my daughter asked, “Hayden who?”

After a pause the principal hesitantly said, “isn’t this Mrs. Smith, the mother of Hayden Smith?’ My daughter laughed out loud, “no this is Mrs. Serrano, mother of Hayden Serrano.”

Up until that moment none of knew that there were two boys named Hayden in the same kindergarten class.

For the next few minutes the principal tripped over herself apologizing to my daughter for the mistake. I thought my daughter handled it quite well when she let the principal off the hook telling her that she knew her boy wasn’t perfect and she hoped the principal would be as kind when she is actually calling about her Hayden.

So last night was the premiere of a new legal series on NBC, “Harry’s Law”. I saw some commercials and quite frankly I was looking forward to this new show. While I’m not an attorney I have several friends who are and I spend some of my spare time observing courtroom proceedings. I also like Kathy Bates and David Kelly.

I enjoyed the show and its quirkiness until the courtroom scenes began. One of the most memorable scenes in a legal movie is the courtroom, “You’re out of Order” scene from the movie “And Justice For All.” While it is a bit exaggerated it is a fairly accurate reflection of the frustration that legal professionals often experience. Well, one courtroom scene last night tried to imitate that scene. I say tried because it was such a pathetic, laughable attempt that it certainly was not any form of flattery.

On top of that the courtroom scenes with Kathy Bates had about as much to do with an actual courtroom as a fish does with a bicycle, (thank you Gloria Steinem). I understand that when you get to the level of Mr. Kelly, and Ms. Bates, you have some leeway and can use your show as your soap box. The scene was a debate of drug legalization and it’s potential to solve the problems of the criminal justice system. In my experience even the most inexperienced judge would have stopped this debate by the third sentence, they would not have let it go on for the ten or fifteen minutes to which we, the viewers, were subjected.

I have no argument with entertainment. I love escapism. But, I do take exception with a show that purports, or at least appears, to be based in reality and then runs so far afield that it almost reached the realm of science fiction.

While I may give “Harry’s Law” a second look it will not be on my must view list.