Big Bang

Hello World, Happy October! Or should I say, "HO-HO-HO!" I was at the supermarket on Sunday (which was still technically in September) looking for Halloween candy, and of course discovered (and I will not add "to my horror," although it is clearly implied) that they have their Christmas decorations out already. It's pretty stiff competition for the cornucopia of fun-size candy bars in the stores now for trick-or-treating, but it pales in comparison to November's beleaguered victims of the relentless St. Nick steamroller, running roughshod over the poor obliterated Pilgrims, as if Plymouth Rock was nothing more than an obstacle on the way to the North Pole. The way things are going, the smart thing to do would be to just give up and move Halloween and Thanksgiving to some less-cluttered part of the year (like March) and let Christmas have carte blanche from back-to-school to New Year's all to its gargantuan and extravagant self. Back-to-school eggnog, anyone? For those of us who have not yet jumped aboard the yuletide bandwagon, and for whom the calendar is still firmly focused on October, the time has surely come, when the Boys of Summer must give way to the Fall Classic, and not a moment too soon. The baseball season came to a close on Wednesday, not with a whimper, but with a bang, that's for sure, and a genuine whiz-bang, bang-up finish that kept the hometown fans on the edge of their seats all the way. Several of the pennant races went right down to the wire, including a couple where the division wasn't decided until the very last day. It's shaping up to be a wild and woolly playoff picture this time around, with the usual batch of perennial stalwarts (Yankees, Texas) and some other up-and-coming novices (Washington, St. Louis) and a few stone cold shockers that just came right out of nowhere, like a bolt out of the proverbial blue - or as we say in the bleachers of America's Pastime, out of left field. Under the new Wild Card format introduced this post-season, two teams that didn't win their division will face each other in a one-game playoff, with the winner advancing to the opening round against one of the 3 divisional winners in each league. This seems to be just another way to disappoint even more fans in two extra cities over the course of the playoffs, since there will now be 9 teams that don't win the World Series, compared to 7 losing teams previously. Heck, if that's their goal, why don't they just put ALL of the teams in the playoffs to start with, and by November, they can have disappointed fans in 27 separate cities all at once? Suddenly, that back-to-school eggnog doesn't sound like such a bad idea after all. Going from the wide grassy diamonds to the frozen rounded rectangles (you'd think there would be a word for this shape) I regret to report that there has been no settlement in the NHL lockout, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth is beginning to reach epic proportions among the literally dozens of hockey fans in two countries. (Okay, there may be more than a few dozen fans in Canada, I'll grant you that.) Pundits are suggesting that the stalemate might last until the end of the year, stopping just in time to salvage The Winter Classic on January 1, and rescue whatever remnants are left of the tattered season through April. We have Dave Shoalts from The Globe & Mail of Toronto to thank for his cogent observation that the NHL owners see the fans as "ATMs with arms and legs." I can guarantee that those fans have been using their arms now to make some gestures that no ATM has ever thought of, by golly. Meanwhile on the local scene, alert readers may recall early last year when a film crew from the TV show "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" came to shoot scenes at the hospital where I work, which can be an exciting prospect, but also very disruptive to the daily routine, or a situation that you would think a hospital would wish to avoid at all costs. Not so fast! A couple of weeks ago, we found ourselves once again being visited by yet another film crew, this one for the hit TV show on CBS, "Person of Interest," starring Jim Caviezel, Kevin Chapman and Michael Emerson. While the first shoot was in the Operating Room and CEO's office, mostly hidden away from the employees and general public, this time around, the filming was being done in a variety of locations such as the Lobby, G.I., O.R., and the hallways on two different patient floors, as well as taking over the auditorium with their catering services for cast and crew. This presented a lot more opportunities for the average guy or gal to mingle with the stars and production team, and just about everybody came away with a story of meeting someone from the show in the elevator, hallway, courtyard, or out on the sidewalk by the equipment trailers. A week later, we all received a copy of a note from the producers, stating "The entire crew commented on how kind, considerate and friendly everyone was, and stressed that your hospital and employees were the best we have ever encountered." They went on to add that they were so pleased with the experience that they have already requested to return for another episode. Normally, this is where I would say that I'm all for it, and what could be better than using the power of television to put us on the map, and spread our name far and wide, so that even in the remotest villages in the densest jungles, we'd be right up there with the Mayo Clinic, Johns Hopkins, and of course, General Hospital. But frankly, I'm concerned that the management here will get so star-struck with this idea, that they'll decide to give up on being a real hospital altogether, and just rent the place out as a studio from now on - and where 1,600 people would go to find new jobs, once the employer of last resort is gone, well, it's just a mystery to me, I can tell you that. Speaking of local celebrities, The Journal News has a gossip column on their web site called LoHud LowDown, where they promise me they have the latest news on the big names in our area, " ... like Leonardo DiCaprio's recent sighing in Ardsley." I think not! While I can't entirely rule out the possibility that the Titanic star was indeed "sighing" in Ardsley, I'm guessing that if you read that sentence again and substitute the word "sighting" instead of "sighing," it suddenly makes a lot more sense. Of course, there are no standards anymore, heaven knows, and the spell-checker's certainly not going to be able to help you with that one, if you can't come up with the right word on your own. Honestly, sometimes you just don't know whether to laugh or cry. In other even more local news, it certainly has come to the end of an era here in our neighborhood, and just as unwelcome as it was unexpected. Without a word of warning, our next-door neighbors moved away, right out from under our noses, and took all of their various brood of pets right along with them. (That would be 2 dogs, 4 cats, 2 boys, and who knows what all else - which I would think would be quite an undertaking, when you're essentially packing up your tents and sneaking off in the dead of night.) After years upon years underfoot, it suddenly meant the abrupt end of the ubiquitous Mooch of lore and legend in our midst - the undisputed master of wheedling treats out of just about everyone, whether they were homeowners, construction workers, or the film crew from the commercial shoot across the street. She fancied herself the neighborhood's good will ambassador, and was widely recognized everywhere she went (which was absolutely everywhere) and while she seemed sweet and friendly on the outside, underneath it all, she was totally fearless and backed down from nothing. Better known to her family as Cinnamon, this pint-sized critter has left a king-sized hole in our yard, along with her kaboodle of cohorts, C.C. (who we called Sugarfoot) and Will (what a name for a cat, no wonder we called him Squeaky!) and the irrepressible Cooper, who was rescued on their visit to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. It's certainly not going to be the same around here without them, and we can bang the door shut on that chapter of our lives, alas. Of course, we wish them well in their new locale, and looking forward to meeting our new neighbors whenever they may arrive, with whatever may be their assorted entourage in tow. But you can be gosh-darn sure that we'll be making them sign an iron-clad agreement (I call it a "pre-neigh") that we are entitled to visitation rights if they ever move away and take their pets with them. I'm not going to be like Leonardo DiCaprio sighing in Ardsley, without even hockey to console myself with. Say, where's that back-to-school eggnog when you need it? Elle