Out of My Mind

by Andy Rooney

  After years of war, the whole world was waiting anxiously for the word that it was over. After the D-Day landings on June 6, 1944, American soldiers, with help from the British and Canadians, had fought their way across Normandy and into Paris on Aug. 25. The U. S. 9th Division crossed the Rhine on March 7 and headed across Germany for a meeting with the Russian army that was squeezing the Germans from the other direction. The two forces met at the town of Torgau on the Elbe River on April 25, 1945, and it was apparent to everyone that the war was winding down and the Germans would have to give up.

  On the night of May 6, 1945, seventeen reporters were flown by Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force from Paris to Reims, France. They realized their mission was to report the surrender they knew was imminent. Before being taken to Reims, the reporters were sworn to secrecy. They promised not to write the story until they were given permission by Allied headquarters.

  Seventeen reporters came to a large classroom in the school at 2:I0 on the morning of May 7. At 2:40 the Germans and Americans came in for the signing. The meeting lasted about five minutes, just time enough for several generals to sign the surrender papers. There were four cameramen. One had brought a ladder and was perched on top of that to get a better view of the participants at the table. Others were precariously perched on chairs. The seventeen reporters were standing taking notes.

  After the brief signing ceremony, the reporters were ushered out of the room, put on a bus for the airport and flown back to Paris with a great story in their pockets they were forbidden to tell.

  It was my first exposure to a dilemma that every reporter is faced with at some time in his life. Here they were with great and important information that the whole world was waiting for but they were inhibited from writing it for what was, basically, a political reason—good relations with the Russians.

  One reporter, Ed Kennedy of the Associated Press, couldn’t wait. He made the decision to break his promise. He wrote the story and dispatched it to AP headquarters in New York from which it was sent around the world. Kennedy later said he thought the story was too important to keep to himself one minute longer. The world read about the surrender in their newspapers in fifty different languages the next morning, May 8.

  The sixteen reporters who had lived by their promise were furious. Ed Kennedy was banished from the company of other reporters. His credentials were revoked by the Army, and he was shipped back to New York in disgrace. But his story was printed around the world while the rest of the reporters sat with theirs in their pockets.

  I was as angry as anyone but, wrong as I thought Kennedy was that day when he released the story, I am not so certain today. The world had been waiting five years for the end of that war. There was no element of military security and keeping that information from the worried world for one more day was probably wrong. It is almost always wrong for a reporter to withhold information for any public relations reason. Ed Kennedy may have been right. V-E Day was May 7.

  FUGEDDABOUTIT

  Some days, it seems as though I have so much to do I can’t get anything done. It happens a lot around Christmas.

  When I left for the office this morning, a red light appeared on the dashboard of my car that said, “Service soon.” I’ve been meaning to read the manual, but whenever I get in the car I’m going someplace and don’t have time. I’m driving to the country this weekend, though, and ought to take the car in before I go but I have some other things to do first.

  When I left the house today, I dumped a suit, a pair of slacks and a sweater in the back of the car to take to the cleaners, but I had so much to do I decided not to stop.

  My hair is too long and has been for about two weeks. My barber is over near several department stores, so maybe I’ll get my hair cut and do some Christmas shopping at lunchtime—tomorrow, though.

  I don’t even want to think about Christmas. I have to get presents for Martha, Emily, Ellen, Brian, Cecile, Alexis, Ben, Justin, Emma, Katherine, Beryl, Leo, Les and Nancy. Just getting to a store is hard and they probably won’t have anything I think is right, anyway. As usual, I’ll probably wait until it’s too late to have anything sent, so I’ll have to take it with me.

  I should put the Christmas wreath on the door this weekend and string the Christmas lights on the hedge. I hope I can find the lights. I may have put them in the attic. If I get the chance, I’ll go up and look for them. Come to think of it, though, the lights may be on top of that shelf in the garage. I keep the Christmas tree in the garage so it doesn’t get snowed on before we put it up in the living room Christmas Eve. I’m worried about the garage because it isn’t heated. The automatic garage door caught on some of the insulated ceiling panels last summer and tore off one of them. There are pipes up there that bring heat to the back bedroom and they’re exposed now and could freeze. I ought to get that insulation panel replaced and get a plumber to put some radiator pipes in the garage. I’m not sure who does that or how much it would cost. I don’t even want to think about that now.

  As if I didn’t have enough things to do around the house, I’ve got more than usual to do in the office.

  60 Minutes is going to need two extra pieces next week because they want to get the Christmas and New Year’s day shows put together early. I’ll have to think of something to do and then shoot the pieces. I should get my hair cut before I do them.

  Next to my computer I keep an in/out file tray. There must be twenty-five letters. They’re either things like phone bills or messages from old friends I feel guilty about not answering. I’ve set those things aside for two weeks, though, so I guess another day or two won’t hurt.

  If I can get my Christmas cards out, that will satisfy some of those letters I should have written. I’m not sure where our Christmas card list is. Last year, I added the names of people who sent me a card even though I didn’t send them one.

  Some of the things I put off because I’ve had a cold. My nasal passages have been stuffed up for weeks, so I called my doctor and he gave me a prescription, which I took to the drugstore last Tuesday. They couldn’t fill it right away, so I paid for it but I haven’t had time to go back and get it.

  I love Christmas but I can’t wait for it to be over.

  FOOD FOR HOLIDAY THOUGHTS

  We all look for that perfect day when we have enough to do but not too much. There’s a fine line and we usually cross it. At this time of year, most of us have so much to do that there isn’t time to sit back and enjoy our holiday.

  We had a cocktail party for sixty friends and family on the Friday before Christmas, but we think seventy-five showed up. It was good except two of our closest friends were left off the invitation list by mistake. No amount of apologizing helps in a case like that.

  I made eggnog with eggs, cream and plenty of nog (I use rum and bourbon). Some people make the mistake of thinking it’s a toy drink and it is not. I put nutmeg and a grater next to the punch bowl. I don’t know what nutmeg is but I like what it tastes like in eggnog.

  We had fifteen family members for most of nine meals and grandson Justin brought his girlfriend, Gayle, which made us sixteen. It was our second Christmas without Margie and we don’t get over missing her. I jerry-rigged a board with legs and fastened it to the end of the dining room table so it would accommodate everyone.

  Food for sixteen people, three meals a day for three days is a lot of food and a lot of work. Martha, the most organized of the four children, drew up a chart listing who was on duty for what job and stuck it on the refrigerator door but no one paid much attention to it. After the guests left the party Friday, we had two huge dishes of lasagna left. Martha had made them in advance. They were good with a salad and easy.

  Emily’s daughter, my granddaughter Alexis, had to get back to Washington to be at work for Fox at 6 A.M. the day after Christmas, so we decided to have our Christmas turkey dinner Saturday night so she’d be in on it. Emily brought the turkey from a farm near Boston. Less than half of the stuffing went
into the bird and the rest was baked separately in an open pan. It was better than that cooked inside the turkey.

  For the first time, Brian carved. I relinquished my role reluctantly because being the carver puts you in a special position of authority, but I conceded that he did a better job than I would have. I’ve done it about fifty times over the years but still have a hard time finding where to cut the joint of the drumstick and thigh so that they break off and leave the breast easy to slice.

  Ellen made the cranberry sauce and argued with Emily about whether to put slivered almonds in it. Ellen was adamant about not doing that, but I noticed that when it came to the table in the cut glass dish, there were almonds in the sauce.

  There were several desserts, principal among them a dense, lemon pound cake called a “62nd Street Cake,” named after the great baker Maida Heatter, who first produced it in her shop on 62nd Street in New York. My sister, Nancy, has always made our 62nd Street Cake.

  There were a lot of arguments. One ensued Christmas Eve when I insisted on grinding coffee beans instead of using the coffee in cans people had brought. Ellen’s British husband, Les, was not interested in the argument. He quietly made himself “a nice cup of tea.”

  For Christmas dinner, we cooked a huge roast beef. I made Yorkshire pudding, which cooked in the fat after the beef had been in the pan for several hours. (Yorkshire pudding is the same recipe as popovers.) Emily peeled, then braised several pounds of pearl onions until they were brown. For dessert, we had my specialty, peppermint stick ice cream. I crush and melt in milk and cream one pound of peppermint candy canes, which produces a lovely pink mixture. I put that in my sixquart ice cream freezer for about forty minutes and serve it in chilled dishes with slightly bitter homemade chocolate sauce.

  Breakfast was hard because not everyone showed up at the same time. I made waffles one morning in a waffle iron we’ve had for fifty years. The kids always used to fill the holes with maple syrup.

  There are still leftovers in the refrigerator, which Les refers to with a British term as “lurkies”—food that lurks in the ’fridge.

  PART EIGHT

  On Money

  My family and friends think of me as cheap. I think of myself as careful with money.

  OUR POOR ARE RICH

  We should help the poor because we’re rich and they aren’t but then after we’ve helped them, it seems to me we have the right to ask a lot of people of the world, who resent the success of our civilization, why they haven’t done more to help themselves.

  Men and women from the poorest, most underdeveloped countries make their way to the United States and prosper in our society. Professional and business people from economically retarded countries come here and frequently distinguish themselves. Individuals are not responsible for national failures. So who is?

  Almost all of Europe, South America, Russia, China and Japan have working economies, stable governments, police forces, a judicial system, roads and public services like water and electricity. At the same time, dozens of countries in other parts of the world do not have the amenities of civilization. The United Nations has estimated that half the people on earth live in poverty.

  If it weren’t for television, which occasionally shows it to us, we wouldn’t understand poverty at all. Poverty to us means a handful of dysfunctional homeless people in our town. Few are in danger of starving or freezing to death. Real poverty means whole countries whose people not only don’t have jobs they don’t have an organized society, houses, food, clean water, places to go to the bathroom. Forget bedrooms, two-car garages, swimming pools, refrigerators, central heating and air conditioning. They don’t have houses.

  Poverty anywhere in the world is a concern to us because we’re nice guys and we’re pained to see hungry and unhappy humans anywhere. We are also concerned because it’s only human of the world’s poor to resent our prosperity, and we don’t like being hated.

  You look for reasons why so many countries are what we euphemistically call “backward.” Many of the most depressed countries are under the heel of some oppressive potentate who keeps himself rich and the people poor. However, it isn’t easy to determine whether a dictator in a poor country is a cause or a result of the nation’s problems.

  It’s a mystery why the people living in the warmest parts of the earth are often the worst off. You’d think that not having to expend money, energy or resources staying warm would be an advantage but that doesn’t seem to be so. Africa is the warmest continent but it has many of the least successful societies.

  Warm weather should give the people of Africa and the Arab countries a head start on prosperity. Even in the United States, for no discernible reason, the South was for years the poorest and most backward part of the country. In the past 50 years, the South has developed into one of the most prosperous parts of our country. Maybe it’s coincidence, but the change seems to have been concomitant with the development of air conditioning. Maybe we ought to raise the money to air condition the earth. It would be cheaper than war.

  While I’m not comfortable using the term “Arab” because the definition of the word is vague, many Arab countries are not among the world’s most successful. If it were not for oil, they’d probably be destitute because they haven’t created any kind of economy for themselves independent of that natural resource.

  There was a time in history when the Arab world led all others in the knowledge of geometry, astronomy, chemistry and medicine. Europeans in the Middle Ages learned a lot of what they knew of science from the Arabs. The world has not learned much from Arab countries in recent centuries.

  I don’t know how it can be done, but it’s important that we find out why the people of some parts of the world prosper while others live lives desperately devoid of pleasure or the basic necessities of the good life. You wonder why the poor cling to life as tenaciously as do those of us who have a life so clearly worth clinging to.

  IT CALLS FOR A REVOLUTION

  The oddball poet and professional character, Gertrude Stein, said, “Money is always there but the pockets change. It is not in the same pockets after a change, and that is all there is to say about money.” I always remember but probably ought to forget this statement because there’s a lot more than that to say about money.

  On a dozen occasions, I’ve addressed the graduating class at a high school or college. All the kids want is their diplomas so they don’t listen to what you have to say, but you’re supposed to say something important anyway. One of the things I usually say, trying to sound important, is that I hope, when they finish school, they’ll set out to make something other than money.

  Enron, the seventh-largest company in the United States, just went bankrupt, basically because it didn’t make anything but money. Enron stock fell from $90 to 26 cents per share. Top executives who knew what was about to happen sold their stock while the price was still high. The other 20,000 employees lost most of their savings because they were not allowed to sell their stock and abandon the sinking ship.

  Despite the hundreds of news stories about Enron, if you asked most Americans today what the company made, they still wouldn’t know. I can tell you. Enron made money for a small handful of dishonest executives. There was no product. The company was a collection of natural gas salesmen and a small collection of sleight-of-hand money managers who stole millions from the public, quite possibly without breaking the law.

  Except for the superlatives involved in its demise—Biggest Bankruptcy in U.S. History—the story of Enron Corp. isn’t very interesting. The details of what happened are vague, buried under layers of obfuscated deals, reports, accounting and mergers that no one but someone in the money business could understand.

  What is interesting is the absolutely disgraceful connection, made with huge sums of money, between Enron and elected officials. You begin with President George W. Bush and next drop all the way down to Vice President Dick Cheney. The details of the connection are unknown but certainly exist. In 200
0, Enron gave half a million dollars to Bush’s presidential campaign.

  While three quarters of all the money the company gave went to Republicans, one quarter went to Democrats—and it wasn’t peanuts. Because they got less, does this make Democrats more honest? The chairman at the first Senate hearing was Senator Joseph Lieberman, who must be relatively honest because he hasn’t taken any money from Enron since the $2,000 he got in 1994.

  After George W. Bush and Cheney, the next highest public official to have benefited from Enron’s generosity is former Attorney General John Ashcroft, who received about $58,000 from the company for his failed Senate re-election bid in Missouri.

  If we all weren’t so dumb and happy and relatively prosperous, we’d start a revolution in this country.

  FREE ENTERPRISE ANARCHY

  Enron did as much to make capitalism look bad in the year 2002 as Joseph Stalin’s Soviet dictatorship did in the 1930s to destroy any favorable opinion idealists in the world had about communism.

  Socialism still has the communist stigma attached to it because of the disastrous Soviet experiment. It will be interesting to see if Enron and other corporate giants do any lasting damage to our confidence in free enterprise. It is unlikely Enron was the only major corporation that hid its devious financial dealings behind the capitalist curtain.

  There are too many ways for a big company to avoid paying its fair share of taxes. However, any company that doesn’t engage in what most of us would call cheating—even if it isn’t strictly speaking illegal—is at a competitive disadvantage. By employing such practices, corporate giants shift the tax burden to individuals who don’t have offshore (off tax) bank accounts.