tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64359435055522178122024-03-14T17:13:30.089+02:00AN AD MAN IN GREECE...observations of a displaced Brooklynite.Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.comBlogger156125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-30460181834094248162015-09-16T19:38:00.000+03:002015-09-16T19:38:14.109+03:00Underwater at 78<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Birthdays, we remember them; most of mine that I remember
have been pretty good and some even fantastic. 50 years old in Mexico, and a
surprise bullfight, basically a young bull that does it every day, chases you
around and you get to do El Cordobes gestures, and hope you don’t get tossed in the air. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Obviously nothing happens to the bull. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That was a pretty memorable birthday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have been blessed by having many birthdays with belly
dancers; they seem to be my present of choice from friends of mine…I wonder
why? The friends are Armenians and Greeks that might explain it as well as my
love of the “art” of belly dancing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As some of you know I started scuba diving pretty late in
life, when I was 69 or 70.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not dive as often as I would like to but I do manage to
dive more than a few times a year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My dive instructor here in Porto Heli, John Alexakis, is a great friend as
well. He is very concerned for me when we dive; he really takes care of me
underwater. It is inconceivable for me to dive with anyone else.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I told him I wanted to dive on my birthday, the 30<sup>th</sup>
of August, he said “sounds like a
plan” the equivalent for us of OK.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were having a coffee on the dockside, he said he would
bring the boat over so I would not have to walk so far, I told you, he takes
care of me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When he arrived the boat was covered in balloons, perfect
for a kids birthday party. We all got on board and pulled out of the harbor to
the surprise of all the boats and people around the dockside. There were even
some cheers, or maybe jeers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxXtwMlE3HUCPIIdGQyh30KxQ76ja14-Rve2D9W8DojUCFHnPZhC0Oz1wDqkofXWvVPEITH3iqWZCQhPAFj2g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were 4 of us on board, the dive instructor, a friend
and another two divers. We went to a small bay, not very far, and suited up for
the dive. My birthday dive, water was perfect, visibility was great…we were
only missing my traditional birthday belly dancer. Returning to the boat I see
a sign hanging under the boat, happy birthday Greg with a bottle of champagne,
actually a small bottle of Asti Spumante.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another great birthday, maybe
even the best, and without the belly dancers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think this might be a new venture for John, underwater birthday celebrations, hopefully with belly dancers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-48675110904925919552015-03-22T16:00:00.000+02:002015-03-22T16:32:14.735+02:00Mama had a thing for Elvis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My mother was born in Asia Minor and moved to Paris after
the catastrophe. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzU3eHxIJ74gsiTUC0DnrGv1pjKkFvMZWE7xcmARPBhi-16M8Pem5Fy2tHZw7gdQ_6GaYPb0Ux-MAmIL-ibndFJ18MlbCf4RnuoVERQdr5hbPZ96EXyKPkrjVQyMMLUxAvcqHAwFrN-FOk/s1600/Marica+Birbil.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzU3eHxIJ74gsiTUC0DnrGv1pjKkFvMZWE7xcmARPBhi-16M8Pem5Fy2tHZw7gdQ_6GaYPb0Ux-MAmIL-ibndFJ18MlbCf4RnuoVERQdr5hbPZ96EXyKPkrjVQyMMLUxAvcqHAwFrN-FOk/s1600/Marica+Birbil.JPG" height="320" width="200" /></a>She lived in Paris for about 5 or 6 years, before she
married my father and moved to the States.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pop was from the same village and had gone to the States; he
went to Paris to marry Mama.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She was a seamstress in Paris and was rather elegant and
arty, making great clothes; she made all our outfits when my sisters and I were
kids. She was creative in everything she did, from cooking to sewing to being
very modern and allowing me to go to Art school and not insisting on me being a
lawyer or a doctor as most Greek parents would. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am just trying to set her up to try and maybe explain her
infatuation with Elvis Presley.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixgwwBzFM26WCxMB1x2DpNoovjzeesRyFUXrdtvTbUa9IO3GKK4qPYelMaV-A9smEy8djWIMm6hiKp_XdiTfXpr5puhheS6tyeAU7UsQUSshpaKVhyfd2HAIPFmMkXIJ_0PTUDUFd28nRj/s1600/elvis.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixgwwBzFM26WCxMB1x2DpNoovjzeesRyFUXrdtvTbUa9IO3GKK4qPYelMaV-A9smEy8djWIMm6hiKp_XdiTfXpr5puhheS6tyeAU7UsQUSshpaKVhyfd2HAIPFmMkXIJ_0PTUDUFd28nRj/s1600/elvis.jpeg" height="320" width="248" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not aware of her liking
Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra or even Johnny Cash. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Elvis was something else. For
some reason he was adored by Mama. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our store on Surf Ave. was next
door to the Tilyou movie theater, Mama went often to the movies but she wasn’t
a great fan unless it was an Elvis movie. She would not miss one; she even took
my future wife to see one, one of his Hawaiian ones, in the early 60s. Mama
told Jeannine she loved Elvis because he bought his Mother a house. He was a
good boy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder if that was the real
reason and not his hip moves or his suits?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would like to know who Pop had
a thing for, Jane Russell, Marylyn Monroe </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
or some exotic Turkish Dancer? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-59780392519812058252015-03-18T11:41:00.000+02:002015-03-18T11:41:34.489+02:00Greeks are funny<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JSmr1PRrwXTClXCI-b_cXk4uVx1sU4_8FPTK6e_N6Ce4v_nkWjk1EBSP965_wdHMntmcvYGBWQYVri_ncc5DymHofKahFjzqugEE1pJKOSAgC4lJedvPVtKYRiWW56Sv61-0nZpGTbvy/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6JSmr1PRrwXTClXCI-b_cXk4uVx1sU4_8FPTK6e_N6Ce4v_nkWjk1EBSP965_wdHMntmcvYGBWQYVri_ncc5DymHofKahFjzqugEE1pJKOSAgC4lJedvPVtKYRiWW56Sv61-0nZpGTbvy/s1600/photo.JPG" height="291" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was in the local supermarket and saw this product there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was Calamari (squid) and the photo was beautifully
rendered octopus.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Question is, what is in the
actual can?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Squid, octopus, fish, tomatoes,
liverwurst, mushrooms, what?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It could actually be anything.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I bought it and took it to a friend’s house on my way home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We opened it and we some wine ready, you never know when you
might need some.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Octopus, just like the illustration…tasted pretty good, not
like fresh and just grilled ones though. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was really disappointed that there wasn’t something else
in the can…would have made a better story.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will keep looking for conflicts on labels and keep you in
the loop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-46541596299025815752015-03-03T10:04:00.000+02:002015-03-03T10:39:36.537+02:00Mt Ararat is really a mountain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4CU97HYEgxG5ufP04ArBSXA7oWf7kTvgEnXAXetju-Qtr3pGed8-hs8yyolwYqKo1iqxv_bk0ZHv8-nHRIfAY7OqDUqNtcVxjdjXTImqVdi1hOpet2hrGrpt9vU9TIl6bykT7HYTduqS/s1600/mt-ararat-500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4CU97HYEgxG5ufP04ArBSXA7oWf7kTvgEnXAXetju-Qtr3pGed8-hs8yyolwYqKo1iqxv_bk0ZHv8-nHRIfAY7OqDUqNtcVxjdjXTImqVdi1hOpet2hrGrpt9vU9TIl6bykT7HYTduqS/s1600/mt-ararat-500.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ok, that really sounds nuts; I thought it was an
international chain of Armenian restaurants. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every city I have lived in seemed to have an Armenian
restaurant called Mt Ararat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder if there is a real McDonalds somewhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We went to Yerevan in Armenia for a week, did a presentation
there at the American University of Armenia. Haig, a great friend of mine
teaches advertising and marketing there three months a year. Like a good
Diaspora Armenian he lives in Glendale California, pretty much the capital of
the Diaspora Armenian community.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had a great
week. People were great, friendly and very open and knowledgeable. I found out
to my great surprise that Mt Ararat, which you can see perfectly clearly from
all parts of Yerevan, is in Turkey. OK, I should have known that, but I didn’t,
never occurred to me that it would not be in Armenia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Armenia is a country, where you can see the hand of the
Soviet Union all over it; after all they were under it for 70 years. It has its
seeming good side as well as its horrible side. The capital, Yerevan is
beautifully laid out, wide avenues, tree lined, ending up in large squares with
museums, elegant buildings, opera houses etc…a very cultured people in a
cultured looking city. The ugly soviet style apartment buildings dotted through
out the country are about as unimaginably ugly and dreary as possible.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throughout the soviet hand, the good and the bad, ancient
Armenia comes through and dazzles, and so does post soviet Armenia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are huge
private residences and new churches, cathedral sized that have been built by
the oligarchs, huge pretentious mansions in the middle of some dreary
countryside…battle of egos, really horrific.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A little about my presentation, Haig, a dear friend that has
worked with me in three countries at least invited me to speak about my 40
years in international advertising in over 10 countries. The audience was his
graduate students, the US ambassador, members of the university staff, members of the business community, all in
all about 200 people.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My wife Jeannine and my daughter Justine, who flew over from
NY, for my presentation, were there as well. I suspect my daughter was there to
tell our other kids, “Dad was a dud in Armenia.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The truth is I was really proud that she came to see me
present.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have not presented to a group in over 12 years, I was
really nervous about it and wanted it to be a success for many reasons. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a success or maybe Armenians are really polite,
especially to Greek Americans. They even did the wave for me when it was over;
actually, I asked them to do it, although the second wave was sort of
spontaneous. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you go to Gregory Birbil on You Tube you can watch it, by
the way, the one labeled part 1 is really part 2. Armenian logic.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder if there is a restaurant on Mt Ararat called Mt
Ararat.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-7563112219529763092015-03-02T13:23:00.002+02:002015-03-02T13:24:45.044+02:00Blog block, blogger’s block….block, block!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiURJz9dNgObQT_Hn4hvr00cY6WSArzKSZVYwlEqrWs9M70sDs27ieXBuD43GcUmB2l0-dkduGh-EXOUssOq8wFMBqQ4eD36hZv0-ygKFmi9WJInzosZJ9bt3QCGdUa7d7dnb5aavpcOwxl/s1600/blog+block+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiURJz9dNgObQT_Hn4hvr00cY6WSArzKSZVYwlEqrWs9M70sDs27ieXBuD43GcUmB2l0-dkduGh-EXOUssOq8wFMBqQ4eD36hZv0-ygKFmi9WJInzosZJ9bt3QCGdUa7d7dnb5aavpcOwxl/s1600/blog+block+pic.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been a year since I have written a blog, obviously
BLOG BLOCK.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had ideas but it just seemed impossible to sit down and
just write.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just hope this is over and my block is un-blocked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
as a sort of creative guy, creative block was always overcome with a deadline.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You sort of did it when you had no choice, do it or die.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe I need a deadline, one blog a week, one blog a month, </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
one blog when I feel like it, that is no good, that leads to blog block.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-68740948679186066442014-01-02T15:54:00.000+02:002014-01-02T15:54:51.081+02:00Vasilopita a tradition for all Greeks…that sometimes gets weird. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBOR2EAh8CE7bh7hsswxEhqGr-8r1RDODXgs1vIPVDP_C4gxbDnG1J8Ko_ZMnI6O2CirrwdqfomQcI76HAwUH_hXHFsc2V0i3RaT574DMPpWJCIyF32RtgG7nBVt05WW1UFXbPur6iPQQ/s1600/pita.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="317" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxBOR2EAh8CE7bh7hsswxEhqGr-8r1RDODXgs1vIPVDP_C4gxbDnG1J8Ko_ZMnI6O2CirrwdqfomQcI76HAwUH_hXHFsc2V0i3RaT574DMPpWJCIyF32RtgG7nBVt05WW1UFXbPur6iPQQ/s400/pita.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every new year, pretty much all the Greeks, at least the
ones I know, prepare, or buy and cut a Vasilopita to celebrate the new year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is an ancient tradition that honors St Basil.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A pita, or a cake with a coin in it, is cut into slices
representing the New Year, St Basil, the Family, as well as each member of the
family. Whoever gets the coin has good luck for the rest of the year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When our kids were small we had to cut at least three pies,
and I had to manage the cutting so they all won coins. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sorry kids.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The pitas vary depending on the regions, some are more bread
like others more cakelike, the decoration is usually the year or a New Years
greeting, with almonds and sesame seeds…at least Mama’s were like that.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year Jeannine didn’t get a chance to make her own, I
went to the bakery in town and found this weird one…I didn’t buy it, it was
much too creepy for me, I bought a plain one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ujZoewbCEinneS9xoQ2oChN9yREGHkV6psdXyRZElxaScsPuX3xToOo2RsJ5EGr6HHL_gvHtAlssU9vPQj8-6eZWbdeW6xgOMTPqXZFviDYJtWJscITrIi5AK_QAZeL0jYprguHByf9b/s1600/20131231_105909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-ujZoewbCEinneS9xoQ2oChN9yREGHkV6psdXyRZElxaScsPuX3xToOo2RsJ5EGr6HHL_gvHtAlssU9vPQj8-6eZWbdeW6xgOMTPqXZFviDYJtWJscITrIi5AK_QAZeL0jYprguHByf9b/s640/20131231_105909.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It had a bizarre effect on me, it immediately took me back
70 years, and it made me think of my father and his friends. Our pita was cut
at midnight exactly, with the sign of the cross, all the appropriate blessings
and all the anticipation of who would win the coin. I think Pop maneuvered it
so the store was the winner frequently (good for the whole family). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This weird pita had some playing cards (real ones), an
ashtray, edible, as well as two cigars in the ashtray…made of chocolate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It reminded me of Pop and his friends that played poker
after the pita was cut and they all smoked cigars.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
70 years come racing back
because of a Vasilopita proudly displayed in a bakery window.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Playing cards an ashtray and cigars…should have had a
tsiporo glass as well, since they drank, pretty much all night.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thinking about it now, I should have bought that pita. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am going to go there today and see if he still has
it. </div>
<br />
<br />
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-2255135308764073042013-12-07T19:47:00.000+02:002013-12-07T19:47:03.934+02:00My singing cousins<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is amazing, since I have a tin ear, that two of my first
cousins were professional singers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Mother’s family left Turkey after the Catastrophe and
went to France. My Mothers oldest brother was there to avoid the Turkish draft.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mom married my Father in Paris and they went to the States
in 1927.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I went to Paris with my Mother in 1946 as a chubby
American kid, to see my Grandmother, who unfortunately was dying, I met my
Mothers family for the first time.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mom had an older brother and sister as well as two younger
brothers and a younger sister.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her older sister, my Thea Fotini, had three sons, Marco,
Jean, and Vasso, they all were tailors, like the rest of the family. I have no
idea why they were tailors; maybe the oldest brother who was there before was
one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two of her sons, my cousins, Jean and Vasso, were singers as
well as tailors, the tailors that sang or the singing tailors. Not their stage
names. One, Jean Marco ( Marcopoulos ) became very famous after the war. He
unfortunately died in a car crash in the early 50s, just as he was really
getting famous and about to appear in a movie.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jean would come to my uncle’s house where we were staying;
he was in his early twenties, handsome and unbelievable charming. The family
gathered there frequently to visit with us, since they hadn’t seen Mom in 20
years. Jean would bring his guitar and sing for us. He sang songs from Asia
Minor, Greek rembetika songs, French ones that he wrote, and I vaguely remember
him singing some popular American songs. I wish I could remember which ones.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All I remember is how happy the family was, he was magnetic
and it was obvious that the whole family loved him and were proud of him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jean’s younger brother Vasso , just a few years older than
me sang as well. He taught me to ride a bike with another cousin on the streets
of Paris. I was a chubby American kid being harassed by my French cousins, as I
wobbled down the street on a rusty bike.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
God, they were patient but
pretty cruel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Quite a few years later 1956 or ’57 Vasso the younger
brother came to the States with a group of singers,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Street Kids”, or something like that, to appear on the
Ed Sullivan show. He was a very cool guy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4ZQQsDOMCJodUtbS4ecY7N556FRbOAyyEHNNtw_yGTAsOQHPHy7SJ2HTceWSC5U0b7RaYehMgQgVpCI1lybIsyOgBkWqduWyuZucaUq4Vtn-V8OUDBQy_ZhKZ4wT82hU0RC8nNNbuUne/s1600/vasso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4ZQQsDOMCJodUtbS4ecY7N556FRbOAyyEHNNtw_yGTAsOQHPHy7SJ2HTceWSC5U0b7RaYehMgQgVpCI1lybIsyOgBkWqduWyuZucaUq4Vtn-V8OUDBQy_ZhKZ4wT82hU0RC8nNNbuUne/s1600/vasso.jpg" /></a><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He came out to Coney Island to visit us; he asked me where
he could buy some American Jeans. He wanted to take them back to Paris and sell
them, he told me he could sell them for a fortune in Paris and make more than
he was being paid for the Sullivan show, with the other three guys. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We went to an Army and Navy store on Mermaid ave. and he
bought armloads of jeans, counting the thousands of French Franks in his mind.
He and his older brother could adjust them to fit the buyers, remember they
were first of all tailors.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was an Asia Minor entrepreneur after all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He also asked my sisters where he could buy some fancy
brassieres. He was a charming guy and everybody helped him in the stores like
crazy, his English left a lot to be desired but my French still sucks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not too sure what he did with the bras and did he make
them fit to order or were they for one girl.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember him on the show wearing a striped tee shirt and
they all wore berets, as they should since they were after all, “The Street
Kids” straight from Paris.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found a site on the Internet that talks about my cousins
but more importantly there is a note from my eldest cousin Marco’s daughter,
Sophie Marcopoulos. She confirms that Jean was the center of the family and his
death was a devastating event for the full family.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The search
continues, thank heavens for the Internet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is more family out there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
http://jacques-helian.pagesperso-orange.fr/Jean-Marco.htm</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-15588700712790656142013-11-28T12:16:00.000+02:002013-11-28T12:16:23.829+02:00The smoking room<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_HqB1CfiLDLRAzbhd6VzaIm0EyWIkWNs0sOhX-FzO7tAKXCUEaldrv5oGMv4tWeVzg39ytjOQEoI1GnrehPMBejwMOQwkLJvehNjEVDOnvsrfszi-6o4CwqlSIX2w3lsL-wrJrq4GWQ1/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_HqB1CfiLDLRAzbhd6VzaIm0EyWIkWNs0sOhX-FzO7tAKXCUEaldrv5oGMv4tWeVzg39ytjOQEoI1GnrehPMBejwMOQwkLJvehNjEVDOnvsrfszi-6o4CwqlSIX2w3lsL-wrJrq4GWQ1/s400/images.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pretty much everybody I know that smokes or used to smoke
has started the same way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As a kid 12,13 years old, they stole cigarettes from their
Father’s pack.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Pop smoked cigars, 5 cent White Owls, they even had a
hole in them so you didn’t have to bite the end off…I would have preferred to
have been able to bite the ends off. Seemed more cigar-like.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had a luncheonette in Coney Island, since we sold cigars
and cigarettes it was no big deal to steal a couple of cigars when I wanted to
smoke. It never entered my mind to steal cigarettes, Pop smoked cigars so that
is what I would smoke.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have no idea if Pop knew. He never said anything. I
suspect Moma knew, but she probably thought Pop was smoking more.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would go the beach with a couple of friends to smoke,
usually at night so we would not be seen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We would climb up on to the abandoned lifeguard’s chair to
smoke and look at the ocean…if we were lucky we had a full moon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems like the epitome of the luxurious cigar smoking
experience, view of the sea, two good friends sharing the experience.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Throwing up after the first few puffs at the beginning
didn’t seem to take too much away from the experience. Eventually we were able
to finish the cigars and did not even get nauseous or turn green.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The view, the friendship, the slight guilt, the danger of
being caught, seemed to make smoking attractive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I became a cigar smoker, preferred them to cigarettes. The
real attraction, memories and friendship, was related to 5 cent White Owl cigars.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I eventually progressed to better cigars. Cubans.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I gave my Father a Cuban cigar once thinking he would love
it, not a chance, he immediately started a White Owl and offered me one saying
“Here is a real cigar. Pare ena alithino puro, vre.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could never smoke in front of my Mother or Father. No
matter how old I was or even if my parents lived longer, it would have been
impossible to smoke in front of them. It must have been a bizarre kind of
respect or maybe even a bit of fear. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of my entire cigar smoking experiences, great cigars after a
great meal in exotic places… not one of them, lived up to smoking a cheap
crappy cigar with some friends, up a lifeguard chair on the beach at night in
Coney Island, watching the sea, even though I threw up after.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-81415437929916772222013-09-24T18:21:00.000+03:002013-09-24T20:59:11.897+03:00How to eat Barbounia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfAwkK8KI_p0dwPc2zwXRNC3g_y_z55_fPnDwxfA2MK8H9NEAv3KjMyibR-WZxERm3O6JYEKoDz4dcPMkREwAoBYlk7MgKiceRX7zRoPCYoYOpcgnH5ELt12YHRa02GfALs74j27waz67/s1600/IMG_0215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrfAwkK8KI_p0dwPc2zwXRNC3g_y_z55_fPnDwxfA2MK8H9NEAv3KjMyibR-WZxERm3O6JYEKoDz4dcPMkREwAoBYlk7MgKiceRX7zRoPCYoYOpcgnH5ELt12YHRa02GfALs74j27waz67/s400/IMG_0215.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By far one of my favorite fish to eat is fresh caught and
fresh fried Barbounia, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
crispy from head to tail.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They are small and delicious…for you xeni, they are red
mullets.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is an old Greek expression that says,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The cats in Greece do not eat Barbounia, there is never
anything left for them.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I go with some Greek friends to</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a small place owned and run by a fisherman and his wife, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We eat there a couple of times a month.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Freshly caught Barbounia, a good Greek salad, Tsipouro, ice
and water, best meze possible. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OK, before I get complaints, it is pretty good with Ouzo as
well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Obviously the place, like all Greek tavernas has its share
of cats, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Although these are never pests and do not beg for scraps, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
especially if you have ordered Barbounia. How do they know?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgID1IdqrbUE3sne1PtsMbn5j2A0fybfPcneRe_SPuvIm76Fp8La4QUBUSCfh87vdW3JZ16lXasccd2tAuwK8gmSM6HBuPTlRlG9Ap5kbFqywfdwOTAVOJ9p7L-k4hyphenhyphenzCEggkVRBr2r-vop/s1600/L1040794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgID1IdqrbUE3sne1PtsMbn5j2A0fybfPcneRe_SPuvIm76Fp8La4QUBUSCfh87vdW3JZ16lXasccd2tAuwK8gmSM6HBuPTlRlG9Ap5kbFqywfdwOTAVOJ9p7L-k4hyphenhyphenzCEggkVRBr2r-vop/s640/L1040794.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have many friends in the area and sometimes they join us,
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the men at least, since this is a man-thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They are not Greeks and they do not really know how to eat
Barbounia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They leave the heads and try to take the skin off, and all
tails are left on their plate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They even order beer…you guessed it, British.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RinQ85V70mn7tkzvmub4V4hKkvtnihquENSjawIb97JBBPxffNpojtPFTmG3dv1eD0ECdF4XTfKwyinN3rbhN2w99rqVaOWKe57NX9hOLysJaxRWWVNJnZkyCJi2nIc_Uimu2SpiHL1u/s1600/IMG_0128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_RinQ85V70mn7tkzvmub4V4hKkvtnihquENSjawIb97JBBPxffNpojtPFTmG3dv1eD0ECdF4XTfKwyinN3rbhN2w99rqVaOWKe57NX9hOLysJaxRWWVNJnZkyCJi2nIc_Uimu2SpiHL1u/s640/IMG_0128.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZOhaBJS0WIXn9UkzCXfTKztWui6tXYnd4XVnTL0FCit1yVkVFEMOCZu5ewZKJzRzm0pW9nUPkx45Vgf6y4w9ZEr16Nx7mpxU_FkM7n3cOI6yFldUtpCY4tY_cCe3ek2aSPpmKRBru_zq/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaZOhaBJS0WIXn9UkzCXfTKztWui6tXYnd4XVnTL0FCit1yVkVFEMOCZu5ewZKJzRzm0pW9nUPkx45Vgf6y4w9ZEr16Nx7mpxU_FkM7n3cOI6yFldUtpCY4tY_cCe3ek2aSPpmKRBru_zq/s320/images.jpeg" height="181" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
The cats seem to know that these guys will leave some of
their Barbounia, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
they probably hear them speak English. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My American accent keeps the cats away, just like Greek
does.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
<br />
For the best Barbounia and the smartest cats, go to Giorgo’s
place, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just do not speak English, especially with a British accent.</div>
<br />
<br />
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-21092923401486564122013-06-08T07:59:00.000+03:002013-06-08T11:58:10.501+03:00Crystals in the Labyrinth!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was getting dizzy when I turned my head a certain way, or
when I got up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It even happened when I rolled over in bed at times.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Was I having a hangover, was it my blood pressure, was it
something in my brain, what the hell was going on? Balance has never been a
great strength of mine, in anything, even walking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It had to be my age, old geezers seem to stagger around, and
I was on that road.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went to my local doctor, here, in the town where we live
in Greece. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He happens to be a cardiologist, and we have a drink in town
when we meet up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a bit of a chat, discussing the quality of the
barbounia (fish) in the taverna where we meet, he tells me it is not my heart
or my blood pressure. It must be my inner ear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are about to leave for the States and I figured I would
see our general practitioner there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I visited our doctor in NY and as usual he sends me to an
“expert,” actually to a specialist in dizziness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In reality to an ear, nose and throat specialist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turns out he is a Greek, we are all over and evidently
experts in dizziness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Great office, 30 diplomas on the wall…very impressive guy,
he even has a beard. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I start to feel that he will cure my dizzy spells. I tell
him what is going on and he says, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Crystals are loose, they are roaming in the labyrinth.”
That is one hell of a diagnosis! I love it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All this within
15 seconds, and he also tells me, all of this, is in my inner ear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ What is the treatment for these rambling crystals?" I
assume it might be surgery or something equally complex.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He makes me lie on a table with my head lower than my body.
He turns my head to the right and then to the left, he then has me sit up and
says to hold on to the table, not him, since I will be dizzy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is it…he managed to get the crystals where they
belong…no more dizziness. I figure he should be wearing horns and furs…seems
like witchcraft to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
OK, let me explain a bit, the inner ear is like an octopus
with channels going all over, somewhere on top is a platform with crystals
balanced on it. This platform sometimes weakens and some crystals fall off and
get into the channels and cause havoc, vertigo, dizziness. It could be caused
by age (me) or an accident. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Voila, crystals in the labyrinth.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He thinks I should have a session of physiotherapy. The
therapist is a great looking Russian girl, she puts a mask on me and tells me
to keep my eyes open, she makes me go through the same thing, head to the
right, then to the left, sit up. All this while connected to a computer. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shazam! It is done.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No more dizziness. This should last a while. If I get it
again, follow these instructions: head back, to the right, to the left, sit up
and those crystals scramble back where they belong and out of the labyrinth. <i><o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of this is available on the Internet. I could have done
it myself, but I would not have had as much fun.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No Greek doctor, beard, diplomas, Russian therapist, masks,
computers and amazement.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-87379169939314197582013-05-19T19:05:00.001+03:002013-05-19T19:05:38.235+03:00Turkey to New York, now and 100 years ago.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnXH-98RW4aZwvOqIgOFHpmrupvdWYXcdwCYmzCX4uBaQOAakQfCWvhnzavEeMa6MBhvw8U40DloM32ACJ20EM8pBZnMhpkKQ9bxZq4JOpSDhiG2no4njTWqD0O3gp-53ZLBYJ9G3F0r3/s1600/final+illustration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggnXH-98RW4aZwvOqIgOFHpmrupvdWYXcdwCYmzCX4uBaQOAakQfCWvhnzavEeMa6MBhvw8U40DloM32ACJ20EM8pBZnMhpkKQ9bxZq4JOpSDhiG2no4njTWqD0O3gp-53ZLBYJ9G3F0r3/s400/final+illustration.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We normally go to the states once a year for doctors and
family. We go direct from Athens non-stop. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This year there were no direct flights from Athens to NY
during the winter, evidently they will start again in June.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The decision was where do we connect?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
France was out, I hate Charles De Gaulle airport, did not
want to do Germany nor the UK. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turkish Airlines keeps getting great reviews so we decided
on Istanbul as a connection to the States. It is a city we love and my Parents
were Greeks from Asia Minor…it also occurred to me that Pop made the same trip
more than a 100 years ago, more about that later.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The flight from Athens to Istanbul was good, on time, great
food even on the short hop, new plane and good service, so far so good. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We arrive and realize it is a huge crazy airport.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Turkish airline personnel speak English…but nobody at the
airport seems to, I asked somebody in a uniform if he spoke English and he
said, “yes I do” and walked away. I guess he realized I was Greek. We
eventually found our gate…even though it changed twice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A word of warning, if you are flying from Athens and it is a
Greek flight your destination is called Constantinople but fly Turkish airways
and it is Istanbul. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the way, Istanbul is Greek as well, it comes from the
Greeks saying, “ Is tin Poly” (to the city), the Turks took to calling
Constantinople, Istanbul.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems to me it would be OK to call it Istanbul at the Greek
airport, although I like the idea that we are going to Constantinople.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Flight to the States was great…crowded but not a problem,
good food, good drinks, good entertainment, movies, internet…more drinks, more
food and we arrive in NY right on time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I suddenly started thinking about my Father making the trip
about 1913 more or less. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My grandfather would send his sons abroad so they would not
have to serve in the Turkish army. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pop made the trip before the Catastrophe in 1922.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have just a few hints about his trip as well as a bit of
research.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The village, Michaniona, is on the Sea of Marmara…at least 6
hours away from Constantinople by ship.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pop spoke about having been to the “Poli” when he was a kid.
Perhaps he went there and took a ship to Smyrna and then took a ship to
England. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He once told us, when I was transferred to London, that
perhaps he should have stayed there, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a hint that he was there at some point. After all, his older
brother Theo Stefanos went to England before, avoiding the Turkish draft as
well. When he returned to Greece after the Catastrophe he was called “O
Englesos”, I wonder if I have any English cousins, Theo Stefano was the family
rascal after all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is possible Pop went to the States via England.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He must have worked for some relative when he got to the
States and became a candy maker. They usually went to be with a relative and
were apprenticed to whatever that relative did.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I do not know what his trip was exactly, but it had to be
complicated and long and difficult.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I bitch about delays at airports with a drink in my hand in
the first class lounge. Pop took a month at least to make the trip, maybe more.
A kid with no knowledge of where he was going exactly, I feel for what he must
have suffered.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-43223065502183943522013-02-19T18:09:00.001+02:002013-02-19T18:09:34.454+02:00“Damn it… another dog in a yard.”<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4uCr55xH2pNb4omJk1h1vyXubkiuLTkAnq02rYrIZli2XjIbvRnhenIGQCvJHFpfpio4VCNW7zJRXxjWz206zgwwrmMdrkEOjk2sGHvZmnY0BdRKEPLxVlQJsyxvr5iAsH4GX-owyzFsG/s1600/540467_355027337896371_199549590_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4uCr55xH2pNb4omJk1h1vyXubkiuLTkAnq02rYrIZli2XjIbvRnhenIGQCvJHFpfpio4VCNW7zJRXxjWz206zgwwrmMdrkEOjk2sGHvZmnY0BdRKEPLxVlQJsyxvr5iAsH4GX-owyzFsG/s400/540467_355027337896371_199549590_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While in college I worked for the post office at Christmas
time delivering mail.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was pre Internet and it was snail mail, especially at
Christmas time, tons of it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two to three weeks of helping the regular mailman.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was my first government job;
my second was the Army a few years later.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before I go any further, I have to explain something; as a
kid growing up in Coney Island, dogs were not part of my life as they are now.
Through my wife and kids, all dog lovers I have become pretty much a dog
person.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In an immigrant neighborhood where I was raised, nobody had
pets, certainly no dogs, maybe a cat for mice if you had a store. Dogs were
scary; think of the expression “junk yard dogs.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I delivered mail in Brooklyn,
but a Brooklyn different from Coney Island.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I delivered mail in a neighborhood that had single and
double family houses. These houses had front yards with fences around them and
they had dogs; big noisy, snarling, vicious, rabid dogs, between me and the mail
box, which was usually on the porch. Perhaps the regular mailman knew each dog
personally…but not me, to me they were “junk yard dogs.” All dogs were supposed
to be dangerous.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was only one way to deliver the mail, after all, the
mail must get through, even though it was</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
only Christmas cards and life magazines and ads. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I opened the gates and the dogs ran out, free and happy I
guess. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I could deliver my load of mail. I have created a whole
neighborhood of released happy dogs involved with each other, probably mating
and making more dogs for next years Christmas help. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am not proud of this crappy thing I did, I would like to
personally apologize to my daughter Chris (she is a great dog lover, check her
blog, thelifeofcaptainchip.blogspot.gr.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember arriving at a house, no yard, and no dog. I start
to put some mail in the brass slot at the bottom of the door and I am ambushed
by a dog on the inside, he grabs my fingers and I try to pull my hand out and
the mail slot closes on my fingers cutting them. Freezing weather, bleeding
fingers and the dog is on the inside proudly barking away. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How do I get me revenge on this beast, it actually might
have been a tiny poodle, but to me he was a snarling Ridgeback; I get a life
magazine out of my bag, I have no idea if they even subscribed. I put the
magazine in the slot until the dog gets a hold of it. I then pull him into the
door and then ram the magazine in…hoping to skewer him; I must have missed
because he continued barking and probably making fun of me, giving me the
“paw.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Aside from the cold and the dogs, delivering Christmas mail
was OK, meeting for coffee and killing time so we could go out on a second run
and drag it into heavy overtime.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I now know all dogs are not “junk yard dogs’” at least the
ones I have in my yard aren’t.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-24091220566851574742013-02-11T17:38:00.000+02:002013-02-11T17:38:01.634+02:00Buying a “round” in an English pub.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFm_aUoluMUsrMqLhas7wyF9raX30gI3RGMw1mJRrrBZR8xqdjFlls9zIsxS1fiFh6ZfB6_I46DFsUpB46IN_jnSQd1e9ZBihKUiBi2f6Sf29W0wViHRAhrf5usEVposGQ47dIFeljEt52/s1600/IMG_2789.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFm_aUoluMUsrMqLhas7wyF9raX30gI3RGMw1mJRrrBZR8xqdjFlls9zIsxS1fiFh6ZfB6_I46DFsUpB46IN_jnSQd1e9ZBihKUiBi2f6Sf29W0wViHRAhrf5usEVposGQ47dIFeljEt52/s320/IMG_2789.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you go to a country to live, or even to visit there are
things you have to get used to, some are hard, some are easy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the 60s in London, going to the pub was easy to get used
to, after work we all ended up at the local pub…even ended up there at lunch
time. Thank heavens there were pub hours or we would have been there all
afternoon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our local was The Adams Arms, or at least I think it was.
The lady that ran it was Mrs. Fitzpatrick, she cashed lots of my checks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pubs had some things that required getting used to. They
served cheese sandwiches and also ham sandwiches…but try to get a ham and
cheese sandwich. What would they do with the extra two pieces of bread?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mixed drinks were impossible; alcohol was sold by the
measure. If James Bond walked in, he would have to buy a shot of vermouth and
six shots of gin to make a reasonably dry martini. Forget the shaken not
stirred stuff, not in any pub I went to.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pubs seemed very novel to me and sort of “cute”, especially
the country ones. I felt that it was 1944 not 1965 and I was a “Yank”. Scotch
on the rocks was one rapidly melting ice cube, and if you wanted more ice, they
had to send out for it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What drove the regulars from McCann crazy was the round of
drinks thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You buy a round and if there are five guys each one buys a
round, at least five drinks are consumed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometimes the crowd is even bigger. This then starts all
over again, to the abuse of your liver.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would walk in buy a round of drinks and then leave to the
complete consternation of all. They take their responsibility of buying a round
very serious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am afraid I didn’t respect the
rules of the “round” as much as I should have.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have English friends and they tell me that pubs have
changed, the food is better, they have ham and cheese sandwiches as well as
great food, OK, and I will take their word for it. They even have plenty of ice
and can make a Martini.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I personally like to remember them, as they were when I
first was introduced to them. No ham and cheese sandwiches and five ice cubes
per pub.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-51740875354834843952013-01-13T09:32:00.002+02:002013-01-13T09:32:51.084+02:00"You can't fire me, I don't work for you."<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGLFsr24k7cVfO_PP51CWqn1NZFrZMYeRE_8TK5tGOk4eXDPcF091OdHb51BwJBSTHBCyxpi1dL5kFix_susx-sNNzx4U8ovFb9gihELixOAhacVYwx410preNZeYSxem0UQXiYfAcnGY/s1600/lift.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGLFsr24k7cVfO_PP51CWqn1NZFrZMYeRE_8TK5tGOk4eXDPcF091OdHb51BwJBSTHBCyxpi1dL5kFix_susx-sNNzx4U8ovFb9gihELixOAhacVYwx410preNZeYSxem0UQXiYfAcnGY/s400/lift.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
London in the sixties again – </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Three Americans in McCann London, facing weird problems. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our chairman was a good-looking Irish-American executive,
from Bay Ridge Brooklyn.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
White hair, immaculately dressed always, the right schools -
London was his stepping-stone to much bigger responsibilities. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He seemed like he went to Princeton or Yale, we are talking
about a serious senior executive in our company. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was central casting for a CEO in a movie about American
industry. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was always backlit - great suits that he changed mid-day
so he was never wrinkled. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In spite of all that, he was still a good guy from Brooklyn.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our executive CD was a well to do American that had custom
suits, a well-dressed guy. He would have his favorite suit copied at a Savile
Row tailor (and they would even copy his baggy knees). His suits were so
English they didn’t even fit right, the true sign of an upper class custom-made
suit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was not as conventional as they were, but certainly not as
wild as most of my department, after all it was the 60s in London. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bell-bottom trousers, multicolored shirts, velvet jackets
and cowboy boots, short mini skirts on the women, not hippy American style but
London Carnaby Street stuff. That was pretty much the style of our creative
department (and we were not the wildest agency in London).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our boss would stop me and complain about the dress code of
the creative department. I would defend them by saying if they dress wild they
have to change their outfits every day, you cannot wear orange bell-bottoms
twice in the same week. My argument was that at least the creative’s clothes
were aired out if not cleaned. The account guys wore the same blue suit every
day, probably even on holiday, you couldn’t get downwind of some of them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He reluctantly accepted my argument, but I don’t think he
was completely convinced.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was in the lift one day going up to his office on the
fourth floor; we had four out of the six floors in the building. There was an
especially wildly dressed guy on the lift with him - I think he was even
wearing glitter in his hair.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just too damn much swinging London for our grey suited
leader.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“God damn it, you are fired! Get out of this building!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You can’t fire me dude, I don’t work for you, I am just
delivering these Photostats.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He never tried to fire anybody from the elevator again. And
certainly not because of their clothes! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-79414929101392983272013-01-05T12:50:00.002+02:002013-01-10T17:50:47.785+02:00Gary and the Corvette<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnjoNlD_a8x_qWADNURGl88iFwzKeEH_kRiG2_bxQ5CgjAK7exSao-xiGm7dEayYfJsGNBr1cjGHqbdKlh8UspO1Ka9qmebnixI70-J_j6mW1fUOZKj2LB1IbMsUy44S_M3C3Hfg16zDC/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbnjoNlD_a8x_qWADNURGl88iFwzKeEH_kRiG2_bxQ5CgjAK7exSao-xiGm7dEayYfJsGNBr1cjGHqbdKlh8UspO1Ka9qmebnixI70-J_j6mW1fUOZKj2LB1IbMsUy44S_M3C3Hfg16zDC/s400/images.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br />
We had some great times in Mexico with Gary and Kay, some stand out a bit more than others.<br />
<br />
We had a weekend house in Tepoztlan, about 2 hours out of
Mexico City.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One weekend, Kay was away and we
invited Gary to come and stay.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the head of General Motors in Mexico, Gary had access to
any car he wanted. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Corvette was just launched in Mexico and I assumed that
Gary would come out to the house in one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Corvette, the most iconic
American sports car, the Ferrari of the States.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He did, and as he drove down the driveway, top down, I
realized Gary was not actually driving, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His driver was.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Somehow a Corvette with a chauffer in a dark suit is not the
most common sight especially with Gary in shorts and tee shirt, ready for our
pool. A zippy chauffer driven sports car, you got to love it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you think about it, this has to be the classiest way to
arrive for a weekend in a Mexican mountain villa.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary was a classy guy, I remember at my going away party (I
was transferred to Columbia reluctantly</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By my dickhead of a boss, a Danish guy stationed in Brazil).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gary stood up and made a very complimentary speech about me,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While scaring
the pants off of my boss. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another classy move from Gary: this one while wearing a dark
suit. Thanks Gary, I really liked that one. </div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-68807934261749934152012-12-15T18:41:00.000+02:002012-12-15T19:00:37.031+02:00My first job in advertising...sort of<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I started working in summers
when I was 14, in Coney Island.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My father had an ice cream parlor there but he didn’t let me
work for him, he believed I should work for somebody else since fathers are too
soft or much too hard on their own sons.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went to work for a Greek friend of my father’s and his son
went to work for my Pop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He got the better deal than I did; his father was rough on
the help.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My first job was working at a souvenir stand in Steeplechase
amusement park, my second year I worked for another friend of my Father’s and
his son worked for my Father, this went on for about 3 years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At 17 I decided to get a job more closely related to what I
was studying, I was attending the High School of Industrial Art, SIA. I found a
job with a sign painter; I assumed sign painting would be sort of like
advertising (I could use my Caslon skills).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I got this job at a sign painter on Ave U in Brooklyn named
Gus. It was the first time I worked for a non-Greek, even though he had a Greek
name, maybe he would pay better.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first week I painted backgrounds, mostly white enamel,
Gus was a minimalist sign painter. I never touched any lettering. Gus would
occasionally let me fill in some lettering he outlined; I was making progress.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He tells me one day that we have to go take down some
three-dimensional letters from an A&P in Queens.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This store was on a hill and Gus sets up some ladders,
rather precariously; he hands me a screwdriver and tells me to start removing
the letters as he scoots up his ladder.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am terrified of heights and keep dropping the screwdriver
and make absolutely no progress in removing the letters.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tell Gus I cannot do this, I hate heights, especially on a
ladder that is precariously balanced.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Gus looks at me sadly and
delivers this killer line.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“ Sorry kid, you don’t have it in you to be a sign painter,
you better find something else to do in your life”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Could this be the end of my
advertising career so soon?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-4347493868766467692012-11-20T10:59:00.000+02:002012-11-20T10:59:29.930+02:00Brooklyn goes to Ascot<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKu5BvBc8ciByxYcbLRjVdu3gDddQdZQ1zpjx4zkrneFDAN5Vyrrgvtl4ADCyM_x6UOuAjz6ghouKAHB089uVZixRmNwlId1nqFJxd1QA1-BhLH7-wv6Ec7uzgKvBxvkUVKJbkT22Hvqsj/s1600/Dad+&+Ascot+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKu5BvBc8ciByxYcbLRjVdu3gDddQdZQ1zpjx4zkrneFDAN5Vyrrgvtl4ADCyM_x6UOuAjz6ghouKAHB089uVZixRmNwlId1nqFJxd1QA1-BhLH7-wv6Ec7uzgKvBxvkUVKJbkT22Hvqsj/s400/Dad+&+Ascot+2.jpg" width="400" /></a><o:p> </o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
London in the late 70s…McCann would sponsor a day at the
races, Ascot actually.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We would invite our clients, suppliers and senior staff for
a day out. We had a tent with drinks and food.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was quite a posh thing and it was something new and
different for me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Chicago we would sometimes take clients to a baseball
game. No Champagne, just beer and hot dogs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now the real problem for Ascot was the outfit, men had to
wear a morning coat. The ladies wore flowered dresses with big hats. I
naturally had no morning coat so I went to Moss bros. to rent it. Moss bros.
was an amazing store…Google it, you could find anything as well as pretty much
rent anything in the way of clothes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I owned a tuxedo since London was a tuxedo kind of place…but
I had to rent a morning suit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When you wear tuxedos or morning suits there are a couple of
tests that tell you if they are rented or they are actually owned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
If they fit well and are clean,
they are probably rented.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Guys that have their own usually don’t actually fit them any
more; also if they have a slight green sheen they inherited them from their
Grandfathers or their Fathers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
This green sheen adds a bit of
class to the whole thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Guys that have their own do not seem to care very much about
the shoes they wear…I have seen suede shoes with greenish tuxedos.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It really takes confidence to pull that off, I suppose when
you have your own tuxedo or your Grandfather's, confidence is part of the
package.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My tuxedos had no green sheen since my Grandfather was a
fisherman in Asia Minor, no real call for a tuxedo and certainly none for a
morning suit. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is another test for a rented morning suit, the vest
(waist coat) has no back, just straps, a real one has a back to the vest. If it
is not greenish and you give him a manly hug you can tell by how the vest feels
in back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Remember no back to the vest and straps it is rented,
probably from Moss Bross. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
Back to Ascot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Queen came in her carriage and opened the event, Prince
Phillip was there, I’m sure his morning suit was his own…no need to hug him and
check on the vest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a great day, lots of greenish outfits very classy,
also lots of well fitting outfits, the Moss Bros. crowd.</div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-20489874188485355602012-11-17T18:58:00.000+02:002012-11-17T19:01:59.353+02:00Diving 50 years ago in Nassau.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1j_-3RtmQxAY9DTGyISE8To1NG8WSPYLGs4BmFZr6RU45DYzmt0BfH6fbQj2yQvWV5dLaFDkdfBU8S7duMwYBCxa2OOgi1kUu4Po6sNdXwQCZJwuR6zhZ923mcSLUhxt2wjyuw_HySp9/s1600/honeymoon1006.tif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf1j_-3RtmQxAY9DTGyISE8To1NG8WSPYLGs4BmFZr6RU45DYzmt0BfH6fbQj2yQvWV5dLaFDkdfBU8S7duMwYBCxa2OOgi1kUu4Po6sNdXwQCZJwuR6zhZ923mcSLUhxt2wjyuw_HySp9/s400/honeymoon1006.tif" width="400" /></a></div>
We have been married over fifty years and we went to Nassau
on our honeymoon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was January and not only did we go diving for the first
time in our lives but we took our first airplane ride….lots of firsts on our
honeymoon, no sly comments please.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0f-vuW3UluQS6Xix4Oqbca9AVJIu5MWHryrBg4WPwa39CgwSc_anuzasDK-Kbh1sfFFS8wPv-d8LQC8gWHX4z6lnNSvBT2m_EOnrbx-k6QdTWq1HgLk-szoBnQISzD4G_Ad7D1RJafZ96/s1600/honeymoon1002.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0f-vuW3UluQS6Xix4Oqbca9AVJIu5MWHryrBg4WPwa39CgwSc_anuzasDK-Kbh1sfFFS8wPv-d8LQC8gWHX4z6lnNSvBT2m_EOnrbx-k6QdTWq1HgLk-szoBnQISzD4G_Ad7D1RJafZ96/s320/honeymoon1002.tif" width="211" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The hotel arranged the dive boat, the captain was a cool guy
and his mother was a crewmember and some weird other guy actually seemed to do
all the work. The captain would be in the water with us when we dove. He wore a
traditional scuba suit and tanks. We on the other hand (2 at a time) wore these
huge brass helmets and were connected to the boat by an air hose and a rope.
The captain’s mother was in charge of the helmets and connections to the boat,
weird, but it worked.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We went out for about an hour to what seemed like the middle
of the ocean.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4dO31UZD5twBf-23yI1b2PHa504PWtJXToxZILEC_3NHa203CqYJQ8KFRvowNaID3wsbQHtO4F6OPQggVvyn7UfGWQg_CJsoNDu0_1iSNCIB2IZs3kN92zkmktGzOGfAW_cCJ-EwokDF/s1600/honeymoon1001.tif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr4dO31UZD5twBf-23yI1b2PHa504PWtJXToxZILEC_3NHa203CqYJQ8KFRvowNaID3wsbQHtO4F6OPQggVvyn7UfGWQg_CJsoNDu0_1iSNCIB2IZs3kN92zkmktGzOGfAW_cCJ-EwokDF/s320/honeymoon1001.tif" width="212" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He told us we were over a reef and the water was about 15
feet, seemed nuts, we could not see land.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The water was just about 15 feet; we were surrounded by an
amazing sight, thousands of fish, coral, colors, plants, a new world for us.
Never saw any of this in Coney Island.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trained Groupers came to be fed and petted, they expected
the tourists and were super to them, mostly because they got their supper from
them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
I loved it and Jeannine adored it, she normally was not very
good in the water and her going under water with this thing on her head was
unbelievable.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div style="text-align: left;">
The pictures pretty much sum it up. We were very happy under
there.</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For some reason, it took years for me to dive again, at age
69 I started to dive here in Greece. No big helmet on my head, but normal scuba
stuff. We do not have what we had in Nassau, from the point of view of scenery,
but it is much freer and still amazing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
What took me so long?</div>
</div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-55723983182879585622012-11-13T10:40:00.000+02:002012-11-13T10:40:54.903+02:00Pavlo, my cousin...my tailor.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYP6BLpCWYzpm1C-PNrRdtfFMz8u_pBY29m5dSNpKGaoKQLZKJAvGxx13Jd5kWsWk7VxPWzxyqO9Ccpgixj7Ay_8097cQXNSLk_9SWyx31wIPxGdR1-j9TqNKlxdersNgexqnzgsqLwmHG/s1600/Scanned+Image+121350003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYP6BLpCWYzpm1C-PNrRdtfFMz8u_pBY29m5dSNpKGaoKQLZKJAvGxx13Jd5kWsWk7VxPWzxyqO9Ccpgixj7Ay_8097cQXNSLk_9SWyx31wIPxGdR1-j9TqNKlxdersNgexqnzgsqLwmHG/s400/Scanned+Image+121350003.jpg" width="301" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I come from a family of tailors on my Mothers side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Mama and her family ended up in Paris after the
Asia Minor catastrophe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">My uncles were all men’s tailors and my Father was
totally transformed when he went to Paris to marry my mother. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">He embarrassed the Frenchified Greeks when he
turned up in his loud American outfits; they made him a complete new wardrobe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">The only way they could introduce him to the other
Frenchy Greeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Mama ran the workshop and was a talented seamstress
and tailor herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">When we went to Greece for the first time in the
early 60s, we visited relatives in Edipso on the island of Evia.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">These were my Fathers relatives, fishermen stock
and all, except one cousin, were fishermen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Fishermen on one side, Pops folks,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Tailors on the other side, Mom’s family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> Nevertheless the fishermen side had one
tailor, I wonder how that happened?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"> Every Greek village at that time had at least
one tailor; my cousin Pavlo was one of the tailors in Edipso.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I really felt that I should have a Greek suit made
by my cousin, my first custom-made suit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">It seemed appropriate that it should be Greek and
by Pavlo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">OK, it is not Saville row; it’s a shop on an
unpaved street on a Greek island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That’s Ok; I am from Coney Island after all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I wanted the trousers low cut like my Levis, Pavlo
agreed but insisted on pleats.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">The jacket had wide lapels and shoulder pads…nothing
Ivy League about that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Pavlo said the suit needed a vest (a waistcoat, for
you Brits) my first three- piece suit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">We were going to be travelling around Greece and he
had three weeks to make it, no time for fittings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">We arrive and I try on the suit, it seemed
everybody in the village came to the unveiling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Jacket is great, wide lapels and big shoulders…I
feel good in it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">Trousers fit great, low cut and pleats, it works.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">They help me off with my jacket and I slip into the
vest, they do not reach the top of my trousers, normally the trousers are a lot
higher. My low cut trousers have screwed it all up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">It works OK if I lean forward. Pavlo wants to make
the vest over; no time we have a plane from Athens in the morning the next day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I put on all three pieces and sort of bend over and
everybody starts spiting three times (it means you look great and the spitting
prevents the evil eye)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I wore that suit many times…made me look very
continental, Greek at least. In the Greek restaurants in Chicago in the 60s it
was recognized as a Greek suit, an authentic Pavlo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">The photo is Jeannine and me in Chicago; we were
expecting our first child. I am the one in Pavlo’s suit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-outline-level: 1; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">I miss that suit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-40532049562456947282012-10-17T18:00:00.003+03:002012-10-17T18:00:34.967+03:00“DESK DRAWERS!” I shouted at the top of my voice.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-6ANQFHqVeFUl1tu0XWTycWSwBYNarqHcjIj6n5fGYJROS5GOEHsz6YoogXoAxKuROQoWNNGV5dVbW3tyjcNEqOsVRngZQeWF2Hc9OWb147TU1SUJF5GSY4fQLgKJZumc1wb_S7otKje/s1600/article-new-ds-photo-getty-article-129-199-87771711_XS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-6ANQFHqVeFUl1tu0XWTycWSwBYNarqHcjIj6n5fGYJROS5GOEHsz6YoogXoAxKuROQoWNNGV5dVbW3tyjcNEqOsVRngZQeWF2Hc9OWb147TU1SUJF5GSY4fQLgKJZumc1wb_S7otKje/s400/article-new-ds-photo-getty-article-129-199-87771711_XS.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Learning a new language is not easy if you are older than
two, learning it well is damn hard. I have yet to manage it in any language.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
My English is still pretty
Brooklyn and not just the accent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I learned Greek as a kid, I even had a Greek teacher, Kyria
Vangeli…I still spoke like an American that came from Asia Minor- a very weird
Greek. Now after years in Greece my Greek is still the Greek of an American. I
am called “to Americanaki.” The burden of the Brooklyn accent in all languages,
you never lose it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five years in Spain and ten years in Mexico and my Spanish
is passable, Mexicans are impressed with my Madrilenio accent and Spaniards are
knocked out by my Mexican accent.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My Italian is basically Spanish with lots of Italian
gestures and an exaggerated Italian accent. I could have starred in spaghetti
westerns.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I was transferred to the Madrid office in 1970, from
London, I was Spanishless. I took an intensive</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Month long Spanish course from Berlitz, two instructors, 10
hours a day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Spanish was essential in the Madrid office; very little
English was spoken, at least not in front of me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spoke or tried to speak only Spanish and naturally made
some mistakes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My greatest mistake was circulated around the office, even
made it to the Barcelona office via my secretary, Mari Carmen. I was not
corrected for months to the pleasure of everybody around the office, even the
clients knew about it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A lesson in Spanish; the word for balls or testicals is
cojones, the word for desk drawers is cajones. You can guess what happened,
whenever I was pissed off, I would yell out “CAJONES”. That’s right, desk
drawers. The staff thought that if you were angry you yelled out “DESK DRAWERS”
in English as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Occasionally I would hear “DESK DRAWERS, DAMN IT” yelled out
in English to support me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You make mistakes when you learn a foreign language, usually
to the pleasure of the locals.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Read a Greek or Spanish menu translated to English for a
great time; there is pleasure in revenge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-24625566251843877802012-10-08T11:05:00.000+03:002012-10-08T19:14:25.293+03:00Butlins and the Yank<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlRaZRuAHwQSnsFia8D3ORrMHXlMSOQT_z4UwFyFWEHMeDRSrZVqIkhyphenhypheniy55jNwAe4IkTK8i1TKtmgFYgc2ejgNRQ3ZnD8c1TM4Rptu6CFrsZ5yHskcu8kE_KBimw9YLrH7r13PuiTrrj/s1600/butlins.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrlRaZRuAHwQSnsFia8D3ORrMHXlMSOQT_z4UwFyFWEHMeDRSrZVqIkhyphenhypheniy55jNwAe4IkTK8i1TKtmgFYgc2ejgNRQ3ZnD8c1TM4Rptu6CFrsZ5yHskcu8kE_KBimw9YLrH7r13PuiTrrj/s1600/butlins.jpeg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
London, the mid sixties, the Ad business…everybody was full
of themselves, great cars, preposterous salaries, lots of perks, trips to
Europe for photo shoots, Cannes for the Ad Festival, a very trendy existence.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not the norm for the typical English person.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A very unrealistic existence…creative guys getting paid more
than the Prime Minister, and if you were an American, you lived even better.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had about 6 or 7 yanks at McCann London; I suspect we
were unbearable, some worse than others.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a popular resort in England at that time, Butlins,
it’s still around, It was an all inclusive family resort, everything
included, food, entertainment, pools, kid’s camp…the works, anything you could
imagine.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They use to run these commercials with the attendants
wearing red jackets, some very sexy girls to lure you in, I think even Billy
Butlin appeared in them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of us were much too trendy for Butlins, we were above
it. Trendy snobs in the ad world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was an exceptionally unbearable American, always
complaining about the English and how bad things were.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He even bored the rest of us Yanks; you could imagine what
the Brits thought of him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He comes into my office one day and asks what can he do that
weekend in England; he didn’t want to go to the continent. “Anyplace to see
around here…sex, booze…a good time.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Naturally, I thought of Butlins for his weekend.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I built it up and made it sound like a sex center with
four-star food.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I told him no matter what it seemed like, he had to last
until Sunday evening when all hell broke loose and they brought the French
girls as well. Pretty soon everybody in the office is in on it, telling
outrageous sex stories that happened to them at Butlins.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We see him off Friday afternoon in his E type Jaguar…good
luck you schmuck.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Monday morning, I am in the office and he bursts in, I am a
little nervous, God knows what he will do to me. He not only is a bore but he
is a little nuts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He walks up to me and in a calm voice asks me “when is the
last time you went to Butlins?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-45677858182566733232012-09-12T20:23:00.003+03:002012-09-12T21:33:46.572+03:00Greek saying, “If you haven’t built a house, or married off a daughter, you haven’t suffered.”<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEi1LlUV4_f_IAMaAkYqk5w13FHsOL21bBfkUfkNtnfCMyniQP4NPE6Lgs8hwyWM3HQoxaCraRtqh70FCj_AH2KScOJjI7YpLSvEvwqMqmzWg15gHeVyA9Z3X3C2DglQR8gHru2hyphenhyphen38Ly/s1600/P1010991.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhEi1LlUV4_f_IAMaAkYqk5w13FHsOL21bBfkUfkNtnfCMyniQP4NPE6Lgs8hwyWM3HQoxaCraRtqh70FCj_AH2KScOJjI7YpLSvEvwqMqmzWg15gHeVyA9Z3X3C2DglQR8gHru2hyphenhyphen38Ly/s320/P1010991.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-outline-level: 1;">
I have now done both, and I have
not really suffered, at least not much.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Actually the saying should be “ If you haven’t built a
house, or married off a daughter, you haven’t LIVED.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I loved building our house, here in the Argolida, actually
in Porto Heli.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had a great time and it was a creative process…we are
still friends with the architect so that should show what a good time we had,
they were at the wedding as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The house played a role in the wedding; garden, terraces and
chapel were all used.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our daughter wanted as traditional a wedding as possible,
very Greek, the village musical group leading her and me to the church, playing
wonderful Greek and Epirot songs to start it off. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have a small chapel on the property, with frescoes
painted by our son in the traditional manner. We did part of the service in the
chapel, the exchange of the rings. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The village band, clarinet, drum and guitar, playing the
traditional music, led everybody through the garden to the terrace overlooking
the sea where the crowning would take place and the guests could see the rest
of the service properly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Greek music, dancing and drinking took place after the
service. Dinner was poolside later… with a disc jockey playing music that was
arranged in NY, no real stress, certainly no suffering.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The priest, a childhood friend of mine, actually an
Archimandrite, came from the States to perform the wedding. He did it
in English as well as Greek so everybody could enjoy the beauty of the service.
It was great to have him here. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An absolutely wonderful wedding, our other daughter was the
combara; she did the crowning ceremony…everybody in the family was involved,
paintings by our son, total supervision of everything by my wife. Heaven help
the caterer if anything went wrong, by the way only Greek food, no sushi, no
paella…just Greek.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So no suffering just joy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everything seemed perfect; we eventually viewed the many
videos and found a slight anomaly, actually a hysterical one. The traditional
Greek musicians, imported from a nearby village, were playing “roll out the
barrel” when they escorted the procession from the church to the terrace were
the remainder of the ceremony was to be held. Clarinet, drum and guitar
sounding very villagy playing “roll out the barrel”, I never knew it was an
Epirot song.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder what we will find they were playing in the other
videos?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-26575937604394596582012-07-28T18:48:00.000+03:002012-07-28T18:48:23.150+03:00‘’No way, that raise is much too much’’.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOc9W8GzzkWf9ZIeRfod2ozzBUJ8uPUhj7olQ8DG1oDmgZxyZZ8B_ZvSla1snVF839iu-ZejO88NM6X2s9dufZZa3wXWww6JlJSiInBUmue8UYyL_-Ziw2Gu6XC3aILDja6wvSRU3AJwu-/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOc9W8GzzkWf9ZIeRfod2ozzBUJ8uPUhj7olQ8DG1oDmgZxyZZ8B_ZvSla1snVF839iu-ZejO88NM6X2s9dufZZa3wXWww6JlJSiInBUmue8UYyL_-Ziw2Gu6XC3aILDja6wvSRU3AJwu-/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started at McCann in 1960 as an assistant art director,
straight out of Pratt, with a salary of 5,000 dollars a year, it was a good
beginners salary, I was in a big agency and the future seemed great.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was lucky to work on some great accounts with terrific
people, the agency was set up with art groups, this was before art directors
working direct with writers. I used to work with a writer on the sly; he would
show his work with layouts and my ads all had copy, not just the visual, we
were a little ahead of the time, at least at McCann.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was lots of overtime and super money, basically I did
pretty good, money wise…I took the subway home to Coney Island and charged for
a cab (suggested by my boss).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sometime in1961 I get a raise, I then made 7,000, with a
higher rate of overtime and expenses, and I am making closer to 12 grand a
year. When I told my father what I earned and what I did, he said,” shh, do not
tell anybody” It was good money then. Try explaining to a Greek candy maker
what an art director does.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At a base salary of 10,000 dollars the overtime stopped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was doing some good ads and had bosses that were generous
with their praise, the upstairs took notice and I was summoned to some 30
something floor one evening. Big offices no cubicles, each guy had a secretary,
drinks, cigars, mad men stuff. The executive Creative Director calls me into
his office, the last time he did it was because I was cursing out a client, to
myself, at 10 pm. This time he tells me I have a terrific raise, 10,700 a year.
He is making out like it was a big deal. I would lose money if I took that
raise. I told him I would accept a raise of 9,800 a year.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He now thinks I am crazy, I curse in the hallways and reject
raises or negotiate them down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had done the math, 9,800 would make over 15,000 with the
overtime, and no way was I taking 10,700. Overtime was necessary even if you
didn’t get paid for it, it was a competitive world, and everybody was working
all hours. Under 10 grand and you got paid overtime, over 10; you did the
overtime but didn’t get paid. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tried to ask for a bigger raise or a lower one…he just
thought I was nuts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He finally gave me the raise that got me off overtime…maybe
that is what he was after all along.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Soon after that I left McCann with a McCann guy to work at
the Ladies Home Journal, interesting time, great experience, some funny stories,
tough women editors, no overtime. I’ll tell you about it sometime.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The last
overtime check I ever got was the McCann one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I never turned down a raise or tried to negotiate it down,
up yes, down no.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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</script></div>Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-59117966205332082712012-07-02T19:03:00.000+03:002012-07-02T19:07:10.420+03:00A flask…in Greece?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7ZLZO0dmrPKSMh2Nzu1fZWSphNIRym510_r4z4_u0DHsazKR1Aakl1lFB38bO375iqp0PQhajp0aFyv-EXxaQEC697gsnsW1qFIp0ti4sM8vGtwDlg4Ss-kHQ9EPtSzOXv-3KYqIn6kQ/s1600/L1020949.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij7ZLZO0dmrPKSMh2Nzu1fZWSphNIRym510_r4z4_u0DHsazKR1Aakl1lFB38bO375iqp0PQhajp0aFyv-EXxaQEC697gsnsW1qFIp0ti4sM8vGtwDlg4Ss-kHQ9EPtSzOXv-3KYqIn6kQ/s320/L1020949.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A flask to me, having lived in the UK and seen movies about
prohibition, has always seemed a little sinister and sneaky and secret.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A flask seemed to represent a means of getting a drink when
it was illegal or unavailable in some way, pub hours for example. Flasks also
seemed to be filled with Gin, in my imagination, or Canadian whiskey,
especially in gangster movies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have never seen a flask in Mexico, Italy, or Spain…booze
was always readily available.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Greece seems like the last place in the world for a flask,
people carry bottles openly and drinks are available pretty much anywhere. The
flask seems to represent a certain amount of secrecy, I am sure users would
call it convenient, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
nevertheless to me it does have this slightly dark underside…even
though I own a few.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of this is to explain the surprise I had when I saw one
and in use.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was with friends having some tsipouro and some ouzo with a
bunch of snacks (mezedes), Greek salad, octopus, marinated fish, all the
typical stuff. A friend arrived and he slyly pulled out a beautiful silver
flask from his pocket.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Everybody stopped talking and eating and watched this odd
behavior. Was he bringing his own homemade tsipouro, or did he decide a gin and
tonic was in order. He opened the flask and dramatically poured the contents
over the marinated fish and the salad…what the hell was going on? Gin on the
tomatoes? Gin marinated fish?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was his own olive oil; he claimed that the owner of the
restaurant was too cheap to put enough olive oil on the mezedes. Everybody
thanked him since there was never enough oil on the mezedes, the bread started
to be dipped and glasses where clinked, even the owner joined us and made snide
comments on the oil.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seemed like a novel use of a flask, cannot imagine it done
in the UK or in a gangster movie.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I wonder how the salad and fish would have been with gin on
them?</div>
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</script></div>Greg Birbilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04063542448516049304noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6435943505552217812.post-72071395772887346472012-06-11T20:41:00.001+03:002012-06-12T05:31:18.603+03:00Jeannine does a double page spread in Playboy, no centerfold unfortunately.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEx5nn29TFPm5d8hqOJ-L7EKMF9PutnKtHKf82MXznmlLtObfr-p9u0L8PNJsKmbzEmTE9jtPkYuRIdLoUpgxYa9ApqjHsPTWgrZWl_h_eKsS-GQaf_eLr_29CSbo9UV20Vf0zthbgccp/s1600/playboy-logo+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEx5nn29TFPm5d8hqOJ-L7EKMF9PutnKtHKf82MXznmlLtObfr-p9u0L8PNJsKmbzEmTE9jtPkYuRIdLoUpgxYa9ApqjHsPTWgrZWl_h_eKsS-GQaf_eLr_29CSbo9UV20Vf0zthbgccp/s320/playboy-logo+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was impossible to live in Chicago, during the 60’s and
not be aware or be involved with Playboy; bunnies, magazine or even Hef, as we
called him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We lived next to his mansion on the near north side, we
overlooked his roof where the topless bunnies sun bathed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was pretty good even without a pair of binoculars. I
remember when he had a fence built on the roof, we still had a view, but we did
have to stand on a chair.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was an awareness of the Playboy empire in Chicago, the
mansion, the magazine, the girls that appeared in the magazine, the
photographers, the whole infrastructure…all were very visible.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I know, people claimed to get Playboy for the articles and
the authors, which were amazing and innovative, and not for the photos of those
strangely innocent naïve girls…by today’s standards.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was an amazing art director that was part of the
creation of Playboy, he was Art Paul and was responsible for the beautiful look of
the magazine. He was instrumental in the look of the photos, the retouching,
the artwork, the full visual aspect of the magazine. I wouldn’t be surprised if
he even designed the bunny costumes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every illustrator admired him and wanted to work with and
for him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jeannine went to see him, she was a freelance illustrator,
she called him and he saw her, just like that. He loved her work and gave her a
double page spread to do, not a photo, an illustration. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He had her do the Christmas food spread…a corduroy roast
beef with silk potatoes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was no centerfold, although I liked to see the reaction
when I told friends that Jeannine did a spread in Playboy. I didn’t always
explain that it was an illustration.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her double page spread was the most unique double page
spread in Playboy, she was my centerfold though and always has been.</div>
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