Twilight Zone Revisited

Twilight Zone Revisited     My brother-in-law had always been an outspoken, confrontational type who had an opinion on everything. However, in his late-70s senility had begun to quietly settle in, and he had mellowed considerbly.     Not too long ago we had gathered at the home of his son's family when Jerry and I found ourselves alone in the den, where the TV had been left on with the sound off. A local station was doing a Twilight Zone Marathon and Rod Serling was introducing yet another episode. The 1960ish reruns were making me smile with a feeling of warm nostalgia.    Nonetheless, I listened patiently as Jerry explained what was wrong with the world and how it should be fixed. As he talked, however, I couldn't help but notice him glance at the TV periodically with a rather annoyed look.     Finally, he leaned in real close and said in a hushed voice, "You know, Don - you would think that, as hard as he works - and as long as they've been married - they could afford a color TV by now." Don's Home Page Shy Guy from Hollywood High Surprise Invitation from a Married Woman How Does Your Spouse Feel About Computers?

Never Had a Good Martini?     I'd only recently met my wife's sister's husband, but had learned very quickly that having a conversation with Jerry was strictly a one-sided affair. He was the kind of guy who knew everything about everything, and who was always ready to tell you what he knew.     We were invited for a backyard barbecue one Saturday and I was already wondering what manner of profound commentary Jerry would have on the world's condition this time.     I can't remember how the subject of "cocktails" came up, but Jerry asked how I felt about martinis. I replied that I hadn't had all that many, and that those I did have hadn't particularly impressed me.     A smile came to Jerry's lips and a glint to his eye as he took me by the elbow and led me to the kitchen.     "The reason you weren't impressed," he said without fear of contradiction, "is that you've never had a good martini!"     I just nodded and thought, "Well, maybe a martini will make the rest of the afternoon a little more bearable."     Inside the kitchen Jerry got busy looking for the gin. Finally, he said, "I guess we're out of gin - but that's okay, I'll use vodka."     Well, I'm not an authority on drinks, but I think I'd heard that a "vodka martini" is something that actually exists. Anyway, Jerry put on his trademark "very concerned" face as he carefully filled two-thirds of a cocktail glass with vodka.     But now he couldn't find any dry vermouth. He looked slightly annoyed, but assured me, "That's okay - we can use sweet vermouth."     Now I was starting to get concerned - but just kept smiling and nodding.     At this point you've probably already guessed that Jerry couldn't find any olives. He muttered something about "What kind of a kitchen is this?" but smiled, nonetheless, as he said a pearl onion would work just as well. The word "Gibson" came to my mind, but I didn't say anything.     After adding the sweet vermouth with the precision of a rocket scientist formulating fuel that would take him to Pluto, Jerry stirred the concoction with a butter knife and delicately dropped the onion in. He then handed the mixture to me with a look of unassailable satisfaction.     After I took a sip, his eyes lit up and he said, "Okay, Don, now tell the truth - is that a martini, or is that a martini!?"     What could I do? I smiled and gave him a hearty thumbs up. "Yes, sir, Jerry - when you're right, you're right! It's all in knowing how to make them."     In any case, I know I made Jerry's day that afternoon.