Ben's Diary

Extreme Shopping. Wal-Mart Stores Inc. reported a single-day company sales record for the day-after-Thanksgiving, taking in more than $1.52 billion nationally. But the company didn't trumpet disturbing news from Orange City, Florida where a 41-year-old woman was knocked unconscious and then trampled by a mob of shoppers desperate for $29 DVD players. According to WKMG-TV Local 6 News, Patricia Van Lester was knocked to the ground, slammed her head on the ground and suffered at least one seizure. "She got pushed down, and they walked over her like a herd of elephants," said VanLester's sister, Linda Ellzey. "I told them, 'Stop stepping on my sister! She's on the ground!'" When Orange City and paramedics got to the store they found Van Lester lying on her left side on top of a DVD player, surrounded by shoppers seemingly oblivious to the unconscious woman. Van Lester was airlifted to Halifax Medical Center in Daytona Beach where she remains hospitalized. Now here's the kicker. Wal-Mart officials called later, apologized and offered to put a DVD player on hold for Van Lester. "We are very disappointed this happened," company spokeswoman Karen Burk said. "We want her to come back as a shopper."

Happy Thanksgiving. Just wanted to wish everyone a very happy and caloric Thanksgiving. And, when the L-tryptophan wears off, if you're looking for something good and inspiring to read, I recommend Maureen Dowd's column in today's NY Times. It's a surprisingly personal essay about giving thanks and giving life -- how her niece donated part of a life-saving organ to her brother. On this day of family, togetherness, (and indulgence), it's definitely worth taking a look.

Law & Order. While trying to make sense of the Medicare reform story (and absorb/avoid the 24-hour Michael Jackson coverage), I stumbled upon an AP item about wacky Kentucky state laws. So what if the Bluegrass State mandates every citizen bathe at least once a year?! Sounds entirely reasonable. But here's the statute that caught my eye: "No female shall appear in a bathing suit on any highway within this state unless she be escorted by at least two officers or unless she be armed with a club." The law was later amended with: "The provisions of this statute shall not apply to females weighing less than 90 pounds nor exceeding 200 pounds, nor shall it apply to female horses."

Foreign Affairs. How did President Bush fare in England? According to the salacious Sunday Mirror of London, Queen Elizabeth is "furious" after the President's visit caused unprecedented damage to her gardens at Buckingham Palace. Apparently, the Queen flipped her crown when she saw "how her perfectly-mantained lawns had been churned up after being turned into helipads." The rotors of the President's helicopter and two Black Hawks damaged trees and shrubs that had survived since Queen Victoria's reign. Here's my favorited detail: The Queen's personal flock of flamingoes, which had to be moved in case they flew into the copter rotors, are believed to be so traumatized that they might never return home. And, the head gardener, Mark Lane, was reported to be in tears when he saw the extent of the damage.

Why Johnny Can't Read... A few days ago (Nov 19), I posted an item about a new survey showing kids' reading skills haven't improved much despite a 10 year campaign. I quoted an expert who reports 100 percent of youngsters enter school wanting to read but by the time they graduate, 80 percent claim they will never voluntarily crack another book. In response to this entry, a great e-mail pal (and mom) in Michigan wrote the following (and gave permission to post it): "My friend has a 9 yr old boy who has gone from pre-school to third grade with my asking her if he had a reading disorder. School said nope, he's lazy. Said he hates to read. I insisted she take him to someone...she did...he's dyslexic. He went all the way through the 3rd grade with the teachers calling him lazy rather than finding the real problem. Children need to be shown to read and that it's fun. My boys constantly have a nose in a book. Why? Because they like to read. Why? Because reading has been a part of their life since they were born. I thought my boys would lose interest in reading as they grew, but so far....they'd rather pick up a good book then play video games. It's nice when we go to a movie and they are critical of it because it's not as good as the book or leaves too much out."

Crisis Mode. Bombs may be going off in Turkey and Michael Jackson may be in handcuffs, but apparently there's another crisis looming on the home front. Believe it or not, the bread industry is holding a "Bread Summit" tomorrow in Washington to combat the threat posed by low-carb, high-protein diets like Atkins. The number of Americans on low-carb diets varies widely from 5 million to 50 million, and the National Bread Leadership Council -- I kid you not -- says 40 percent of Americans are eating less bread than a year ago. According to the AP, "bread bakers aren't the only ones hurting. The pasta industry, tortilla industry, bagel makers and beer brewers have taken their lumps for having too many carbohydrates." The Tortilla Industry Assn. held a seminar titled "An Industry in Crisis: The High-Protein, Low-Carb Diet and Its Effects on the Tortilla Industry."

The alarming quote of the day comes from researcher Kylene Beers of Yale who studies why kids' reading skills have barely improved over the last decade, despite a massive effort: "About 100% of first-graders walk in on the first day and are interested in this thing called reading," she says. "Eighty percent of graduating high school seniors tell us they will never again voluntarily read another book." Obviously, something is going wrong. According to USA Today, while few children are illiterate, experts say "aliteracy," or lack of interest in reading, is contributing to low skills across the board.

For the Record. A friend alerted me to this Editors' Note from today's New York Times. In the aftermath of the Jason Blair fiasco, they're definitely bending over backwards to declare every mistake. Indeed, the daily corrections column is often filled with incredible gems, like this one, in classic (deadpan) Times style. "An obituary last Wednesday about Marvin Smith, a leading photographer of Harlem who worked with his identical twin, Morgan, described the closeness of the two men — it was said that they never used the pronoun "I" — and recounted an anecdote about Marvin Smith's response to the illness that caused his brother's death, in 1993. The article said that Morgan Smith died of testicular cancer and that his brother, in response, had his own testicles removed. That account was given to The Times by a friend of both men. It should not have been published unless it could be verified and attributed. After the obituary appeared, Monica Smith, the daughter of Morgan Smith, told The Times that her father had had prostate cancer and that her uncle did not have his testicles removed."

Silence is Bronze (or Golden). After a week of Britney Spears' marathon non-stop talking to ABC, Entertainment Weekly, the BBC, Newsweek, and Glamour (to name only a few), a minor miracle happened yesterday on Hollywood's Walk of Fame, according to Reuters. "I'm seriously speechless right now," the pop singer said, as she became the 2,242 performer honored with a bronze star in the sidewalk. Hallelujah. If silence is the side-effect, they should hand out far more bronze stars. First on my list: J-Lo and Ben. (An interesting nugget from the excellent website Slate, which published an "explainer" on who gave Britney her star: Celebrities receiving the award " must then pony up $15,000 each to pay for the unveiling ceremony—no cash, no star, regardless of the person's artistic achievements. The fee is usually picked up by the celebrity's studio or record label, though fan clubs sometimes pass the hat to raise enough money.")

Please Deposit 50 Cents. From a friend in the news business, this AP item that is almost as unbelieveable as the NY commuter a few weeks ago who got his arm stuck in a train toilet (see my November 1st entry). In East St. Louis, Illinois, a man and a pay phone were rushed to a hospital after he got his finger stuck in the coin return slot while trying to retrieve his 50 cents. Emergency room doctors gave Emanuel Fleming a painkiller and pried his middle finger loose using a wooden device and lubricant, ending the three-hour ordeal. Fleming had tried to call his wife, but the line was busy. Two passers-by tried to help. When they failed to free him, Fleming used his other hand to dial 911. Ambulance crew members cut the telephone off at the base and took it and Fleming to a nearby hospital.

Southern (Dis)comfort. So far I've managed to avoid politics in this diary, but if you want to cut through all the cable clutter about the 2004 presidential race, check out the very interesting LA Times analysis today from one of the country's smartest political writers Ron Brownstein. To understand the 2004 contest, he explains, you need to look at the 13 Southern states Bush carried in 2000. "In 2004," Brownstein says, "population growth will swell the number of Electoral College votes from those 13 Southern states to 168. That means the South alone could provide Bush with more than three-fifths of the 270 Electoral College votes he needs for reelection. Even if Florida, the most competitive Southern state, slips away from him, the South could still give Bush just over half the electoral votes he needs." So what about all the chatter among Democrats about Howard Dean and his chances against Bush in the South? A moot point, Brownstein argues: "Given the Republican resurgence across the region, it will be difficult for any of the Democratic contenders to seriously challenge Bush in virtually any Southern state except Florida. The best Democrats can probably hope for in the South next year is a presidential nominee competitive enough not to sink their other candidates. And even that may prove beyond their reach."

Hey Y'all .... Technology is no match for a thick Southern drawl, according to an Associated Press report from Shreveport, Louisiana. Turns out folks down there in the Pelican State have such a twang that the police department's voice recognition equipment can't route non-emergency calls. The system asks callers to name the person or department they want, but more often than not, the system just can't understand, and folks wind up in the wrong place, says Capt. John Dunn, who oversees police communications. "In Louisiana, we have a problem with Southern drawl and what I call lazy mouth. Because of that, the system often doesn't recognize what (callers) say," he said. What to do? Cops are nixing the high tech system for a simpler touch-tone technology. (Trivia: Although it's commonly called the Bayou State, Louisiana is officially known as the Pelican State because of the abundance of Brown Pelicans -- the state bird -- along the coast. The bird has been a symbol of the state since the arrival of European settlers who were impressed with the Pelican's generous and nurturing attitude toward their young.)

Circus Act. A few weeks ago, I became a little obsessed with the Michigan man who survived the plunge over Niagara falls without a barrell or life jacket. So what became of Kirk Jones and his "new lease on life?" The Associated Press reports that Jones has run off and joined the circus. Apparently, he made his debut this weekend as the "world's greatest stunt man" in an act with the Toby Tyler Circus, touring the Texas-Mexico border. Circus promoter Phil Dulci says Jones will pitch in like everyone else, cleaning up after the elephants and taking down tents. "Everyone has a second job here," Dulci says. "No free ride for Kirk."

Music Man. I had an unforgettable experience this morning, visiting the apartment of Brian Feinstein, the talented, energetic composer working on the musical version of The Man Who Ate the 747. We've been talking about a musical adaptation for almost three years and now we're really under way. On his upright piano, Brian played the overture and two songs, including "Something Great" which might be the closing number. I actually got chills listening to the soaring, romantic melody, and grinned during the catchy Nebraska interlude. This is the earliest stage of the process. Brian and lyricist Sammy Buck and writer Scott Rosenberg are just getting started. The three imagine creating an unconventional musical love story with classic and quirky ingredients. Brian calls it a cross between "The Sound of Music" and "Little Shop of Horrors." Quite a concept! Whatever happens, I'll never forget this Saturday morning and those first magical notes.

Steer Clear. Not quite sure how to respond -- laugh, worry, sigh, hide -- after reading this Associated Press report from Daytona Beach, Florida. Denise Butterfield, 69, crashed her car into the Department of Motor Vehicles building where she was going to renew her license. Ms. Butterfield claims she was pulling into a handicapped space when her car inexplicably jumped the curb, narrowly missing two people on a bench. "I never hit the accelerator," she says. "The gas engaged itself." A police officer issued a ticket for careless driving, and Ms. Butterfield was required to take both written and behind-the-wheel tests. She passed both and got her renewed license. Reminds me of my grandmother Nana -- 4'11" tall -- who had a habit of driving in reverse through her garage door. (She entered the garage from her house and sometimes didn't notice the door was down). Her excuse was always the same: The car jumped into reverse before she could stop. We suspected that Nana was so small she couldn't actually see through the rear window, but my grandfather Ben was a wise man. He never blamed her. He simply stashed a stack of replacement garage doors in the alley...

You've got to have fun... I'm totally biased because of my wife's involvement and this surely ranks as a shameless plug, but The Cat in the Hat is irresistible movie fun, especially for kids. We flew out to LA last weekend for the premiere, an over-the-top shindig at Universal Studios. The event featured a giant red-and-white tent with enormous (15 foot) Cat hats and rides for kids including a ferris wheel. The highlight -- besides accompanying my bride -- was meeting Mr. Clean -- yes, the bald muscle man from the commercials. Procter & Gamble is a sponsor of the film, and Mr. Clean stood proudly on the red carpet with bulging arms, chrome dome, gold earring and white eyebrows. (Why is P&G sponsoring this movie? Because the Cat makes a mess of the house and has to clean it up, remember??) Anyway, Mr. Clean is a giant fellow (easily 6'5"), and he's played this role for longer than he can remember, touring the country at P&G events, signing autographs and posing for pictures. I regret we didn't have a camera -- or you would be subjected to a photo. (In case you were wondering: Mr. Clean was introduced as a product in 1958. The original actor who played Mr. Clean -- Antonio Provenzano -- was brutally murdered in 1964. Since then, a rotating group of look-alikes has filled his shoes.)

Locksmith, anyone? If you ever misplace your keys, this might make you feel better. On second thought, maybe it won't! A top-secret U.S. nuclear weapons lab will have to change 100,000 locks for more than $1.6 million after staff lost several sets of master keys, then failed to notify their bosses. According to The Oakland Tribune, officials at the Lawrence Livermore National Lab in California have lost nine master keys and three magnetic key cards, and officials still don't know when or how they went missing. In one case, a loss only came to light after a locksmith blew the whistle on security officers who tried to have duplicate master keys made to replace a set they had lost. So let me get this straight -- we're petrified of so-called loose nukes leaking from the Former Soviet Union, but we can't hold onto our own keys?

Human Cannonball, I mean, Human Mattress: From the always interesting news website Ananova -- a Chilean trapeze flyer survived a dramatic plunge after he crash-landed on a fat spectator. Mauricio Alberto Yovanovich, 27, was performing without a safety net and fell when he missed his partner's catch. Yovanovich landed on a hefty 51-year-old woman sitting in the front row. The slightly-built Yovanovich was taken to hospital with minor injuries and was later sent home to recuperate. The spectator received only minor bruising.

Adaptation. I'm sometimes asked what role I play in the movie adaptations of my books and what would I think if the film versions were unfaithful to my stories or absolutely dreadful on the screen. Fortunately, the question is purely hypothetical at this point -- and I have no reason to fear. The producers adapting both of my books are terrific, and I'm confident the movies will be excellent. That said, there's a fascinating piece in today's New York Times by Joseph O'Neill about novels and their film adaptations. O'Neill, an author and novelist himself, writes about truly great novelists like Updike, Roth, and Bellow, and the challenges of translating their classics to the screen. Obviously, I would never compare myself to them -- let alone include my name or work in a sentence with theirs -- but O'neill makes an interesting point about the rest of us who write for a living. One hazard of adaptation is "being all but rubbed out by the brilliant film version. (How many of us think of "Kramer vs. Kramer," or "Sophie's Choice," or indeed "The Hours," as books first and foremost?)." It seems such a hazard is eminently more desirable than the alternative....

Small Miracles... In case you haven't read the sample chapter, my new book begins with the story of a paramedic named Florio who has witnessed a few miracles in his line of work, like the case of a little girl named Eugenia Louise Cushing who was pronounced dead at the scene of a house fire, only to sit up, cough, and ask for a glass of milk. If you think that kind of thing only happens in novels, consider this story from Fullerton, California (as reported by the LA Times). A mother leaves her twenty-month-old baby unattended for 10 minutes and then finds her floating face down in the swimming pool. The baby, Mackayla Jesperson, isn't breathing and gets CPR from police who arrive within two minutes of the 911 call. Paramedics take Mackayla, still not breathing, to the ER where doctors pronounce her dead. Ready for this? Forty minutes later, a police detective taking routine photos of the girl's body notices her chest move. Today, Mackayla is very much alive and in critical condition. "She is responding to Mom and Dad — to the sound of their voices and to their touch," says a hospital spokeswoman.

The Girl Who Would Be King. Check this out: In Northern California, a girl has just been chosen homecoming king of Hayward High School. Yes, king. Picture the senior class float in the parade: One girl bedecked in a dress; another girl in a pantsuit. One is homecoming queen Lesha Miller. The other is homecoming king Angela Anthony. "A lot of people didn't want to see us here, but step back and make way for the royalties," says 17-year-old Angela. Best friends since childhood, the girls knew they couldn't both be queen, so as a joke, Angela decided to run for king. According to the Oakland Tribune, the election "created a schoolwide debate over gender politics, raised questions about what makes a 'king' and unearthed prejudices no one thought were there." Prejudices? Namely, false accusations from her rivals that she was a lesbian. Angela won her crown handily, and Queen Lesha summed it up perfectly: "Some things change. Why not change this?" Long live the King!

Baby Boy. I've collected giraffes in every toy, tchochki and artistic form since I was a boy. I've got giraffe cheese knives, giraffe pot holders and giraffe towel dispensers, not to mention giraffe napkins, giraffe book ends, and giraffe letter openers. In her good taste, my wife has relegated these kitchy creatures to drawers, closets, or storage. But I still get my giraffe fix. Like this AP wire report from Milwaukee where zoo keeper Rich Schweitzer went to the giraffe barn this week and was stunned to see an extra animal inside lying on the ground. "I said, 'What the heck is that?"' he says. Turns out a baby giraffe (named Mark) was born last Friday, weighing 112 pounds and standing 5'7". Yes, 5'7". Believe it or not, zoo keepers didn't realize mother Malindi was pregnant through her 15 month (!) gestation. "Normally, we do," Schweitzer says. Um, guess it's time to check the elephant barn ....

Trick or Treat? Scary news to report about a Halloween costume that brings self-awareness (or self-parody) to a whole new level. The New York Post (Page Six) reports that Martha Stewart actually wore a "Martha Stewart" mask and carried another on a stick to a party at the fancy Four Seasons restaurant. Question for Dr. Freud: What was the real message of this costume? Ironic detachment? Collossal self-involvement? You tell me. (For the record, Martha later ditched the masks and wore a black wig and cat's-eye contact lenses, taking on the likeness -- you guessed it -- of a witch.) I confess: I can't wait for Barbara Walters and Martha to go hand to hand on 20/20 Friday night ...

Author's Nightmare. For a writer, what follows is literally the stuff of bad dreams. The French news agency AFP reports today that Pulitzer prize winner Jhumpa Lahiri's new novel was just published in India rife with typos and other mistakes because the publisher used the wrong computer file. Ooops. Apparently, the first 6,000 copies of The Namesake contained many misspellings and many missing words. Yipes. The book is next on my list -- fortunately, I've got the US edition.

Turning Point? On a much more serious note, ABC News last night aired exclusive video from the field hospital where the wounded from that Chinook helicopter attack were evacuated. In the midst of the chaos, a doctor or medic (couldn't tell) turned to the camera and said sarcastically (quoting President Bush): "Combat operations have ceased." The man smirked, then added: "Right!" It was a particularly poignant moment with a bloody soldier on a gurney nearby. And it made me wonder whether this marks another tiny turning point in Iraq - when the men and women in uniform appear to be mocking the Commander in Chief's claims. We've certainly heard criticism from our troops in Iraq but in this particularly traumatic moment it really struck hard. And I wonder what will happen to that doctor (or nurse) when the Pentagon tracks him down. Will he be reprimanded for his candor? I hope not. PS - Blood Money. According to The Guardian of London, some of the assaults on US forces are done for cold cash. The price list is stunning: $700 for an attack on a tank; $200-$300 for a Humvee; $1,000 for a helicopter. That's quite a chunk of change when you realize Iraqi oil workers make around $210 per month in the post-Saddam era.

Can you blame them? Much lighter news today from Great Falls, Montana, where three bison busted out of Mickey's Packing Plant (read: slaughterhouse) and made a run for it down one of the state's busiest streets. They visited a nursing home and trampled through a park before being herded into a pasture. What's wrong with this account from eyewitness Diane Moog? "I could not believe my eyes," Moog said. "I just thought, holy cow."

Genius Award. I nominate Edwin Gallart of the Bronx for today's genius award. Mr. Gallart, 41, was riding a NY train near Grand Central Station when he dropped his cell phone in a toilet and got his arm stuck trying to, um, fish it out. According to the Stamford Advocate, the train was forced to stop, delaying thousands of commuters, as firemen tried to liberate Mr. Gallart from captivity. For the Quote of the Day, I nominate Dan Brucker, the railway spokesman: "When this moron's arm went down the crapper, so did our evening commute."