(I first wrote this column on December 7, 2003 and have reprised it annually on Pearl Harbor Day to commemorate the Greatest Generation and the late Joe Tully, my Father. – Mike Tully)
The choir assembled when Hell stormed the Lord’s Day on December 7th, 1941. It reconvenes every annual remembrance of that first gathering. Every year the choir grows. Those who join these days are gray, bent, proud and too frequently forgotten. But their voices, when mingled with those more ancient, reach the stars. We raise our glasses to the ones who didn’t make it through on this day, and they silently return our toast. Silently, that is, but for the echoes of an anthem of the Greatest Generation.
From the tables down at Mory’s, to the place where Louie dwells,
To the dear old Temple bar we love so well.
I hear it on this day…
Trumpelstiltskin
The Elephant was morose. His followers did not love him. True, they helped him control two of the Great Circus’ three rings, but the grandest ring of all eluded him. “How I dream of living in the Gilded Palace in the Center Ring!” he said. The Gilded Palace was the residence of the Circus Master. The Elephant could live in the Gilded Palace if his followers would place him there, but his followers did not love him and their friends did not trust him. “I could live in the Gilded Palace if only my followers and their friends loved me,” said the Elephant.
Suddenly, in a cloud of sulfur and expensive cologne, there appeared a strange, impish creature with hair like a haystack, a pricey suit that fit him like burlap stuffed with cotton, and a long, red tie that lapped against his shoes. “You want your followers to love you, do you?” asked the straw-haired Imp. “I can make them love you, as well as their friends. So many will love you that you will live in the Gilded Palace forever!”
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