Jack, Say Hello To The Kids

"Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. 

If you don't mind, it doesn't matter."

This week, I'm getting older. Well, every day, I'm getting older. This week, the calendar makes it official. This week, the memories are popping up, the reminders that you keep getting older until one day you land at, God willing, a ripe old age and that's all, folks. This week, I'm thinking non-stop about my dad. A very considerate man, pretty much a full-time mensch, he never would have made my birthday a sad day. At least, not intentionally. So he waited three more days. Still, this Friday will feel sad, anyway. No way around that one. To cheer myself up -- he wouldn't want me to indulge in the sadness -- I'm thinking of happy things, including Jack Benny. Jack Benny gave my dad his first break in radio. And one day, years and years later, my parents took us to Trader Vic's. We only went there on special occasions. We always sat in the Captain's Room. On this occasion, John's high school graduation, we noticed that Jack Benny, a very old man by then, was sitting in the corner with his wife Mary, and Gregory Peck and his wife Veronique. Jack Benny was the last one to leave the table. As he passed our table (at a snail's pace), my dad said, "Jack, say hello to the kids." Jack Benny looked at us, and in a classic deadpan, said, "Hello, kids." My dad introduced himself: "I'm Ben Starr. You gave me my start in radio." Jack Benny nodded, whether he remembered or not. The Jack Benny story always makes me smile. The Jack Benny story reminds me that my dad was fearless. Once you've flown missions over Nazi-occupied France, what could be scarier than that?