When I first heard, in 1993, that a television channel would be exclusively devoted to food and cooking I turned to my wife and said, “Boy, those suckers are in for a terrible disappointment. They won’t last a month.
The Spectator with Ron Cruger
Ron was born in the Bronx, New York. He was raised in Southern California and lived in Honolulu, Hawaii for three decades. He attended Inglewood High School and U.C.L.A.. His youthful goal was to become a major league baseball player. In Hawaii Ron played on a series of championship softball teams. He is an active tennis player. Ron’s career began at the Inglewood Daily News where as a youngster was enrolled in a publisher training program. He served as an advertising salesman, circulation manager, writer and layout and design staffer. He has been a newspaper publisher at the Oregon City Oregon Enterprise Courier, the Beloit Wisconsin Daily News, the Elizabeth, New Jersey Daily Journal and This Week Magazines (Hawaii). Ron lives with his wife, Marilyn, in San Diego, California. His two children, Douglas and Diane also live in the San Diego area. Ron’s interests range far and wide and are reflected in his columns diverse topics.
Read more of Ron's columns at: http://centerstone.org
Dress nicely, don’t drink before you come to work and be sure to say the following, ‘Did you find everything you were looking for?” The manager then added the second company training rule, “And be sure to tell every customer, ‘Have a nice day.”
The exiting passengers flowed through the double doors. From the rear of the emptying plane walked four uniformed U.S. Marines. The four young men wore their uniforms proudly. Their posture was erect. Boots shined. Belts tight against their slim waists. Behind them came two more Marines similarly dressed, bolt upright and proud.
Big dogs have always frightened me. In fact, any animal with teeth bigger than mine frightens me. A few years ago, during a morning jog, I spied a large German Shepherd a full block away. The animal, which must have weighed 70 to 80 pounds, loose and without its owner, was standing still, eying me.
Old Ned lives up the street. He’s 75. Ned and I get together once a month or so. We sit on rocking chairs on his front porch and discuss things.
The salesman at the electronic store looked me right in the eye and said, “Would you like us to install it for you?” I answered, “No thanks, I can handle this.” And that’s how this conundrum began.
Sunday mornings are delicious. Sundays have the most intelligent television programs of the whole week. The CBS show, “Sunday Morning,” is one of the most discerning and erudite programs on television. I wouldn’t miss it. It’s the cultural opposite of the reality drivel offered on most networks.
This was how my father introduced me to the perils of smoking cigarettes. His plan was that if I took enough puffs of his unfiltered Camel cigarette I would get sick to my stomach and develop an aversion to “cancer sticks.”
Remember (if you’re old enough) when there were printed encyclopedias, and tube televisions, rolodexes and film that went into cameras. If you do remember these things you probably have more aches and pains than you used to have, your hair has turned gray or many of your follicles have bid Aloha to your scalp. In short, you’re getting really old.