When I was four-years-old, I gave my mom a gift she's never forgotten.  I appeared before her with my hands behind my back and told her to close her eyes and to hold out her hands.

She looked down at my innocent little face and wondered what lovely present her son was going to give her.  She happily closed her eyes and extended her hands.  That's when I deposited into my mom's vulnerable hands, not a bouquet of flowers or a handmade card, but rather, a collection of dried earthworms I'd found on a nearby sidewalk.

Toshiko Buckley's shriek of surprise and disgust was no doubt heard throughout our neighborhood, it was so loud. For a four-year-old boy, it was great fun to make my mom scream like that! She laughed about it moments later. It's a story we still laugh about 40 years later. (And there's your answer, by the way, to my 'How old is 'Old Man Buckley?' question)

As we approach Mother's Day, I remember things like that and I always find myself wondering what I can do for my mom to make her happy on her special day. No mere gift could possibly be enough to thank her for everything she did for me, her only son.

As a parent myself now, I better understand the sacrifices she made for me and the worries every parent experiences as their children grow up. I could count on her to sit by my bedside when I was sick. I could hear her cheering for me when I was playing ball. And I was lucky enough to have a mom who was home every day when I returned from school. There was always a snack she'd made special for me and help on my homework if I needed it. At the time, I didn't realize how fortunate I was. Now, I do. How does a son repay that kind of love and care?

More recently, meanwhile, my mom thinks nothing of embarrassing me in public. She doesn't mean to and she doesn't do it in a horrible way, mind you. You see, it's a big deal to her that I'm on TV. So from time to time, we'll be at a store or in a restaurant and she'll say to the clerk or waitress: "Do you know my son? Do you know he's on Channel 5?" She'll then proceed to brag about her alleged "big shot" son who anchors the news on TV. It's the kind of thing that makes me cringe. But I know it makes her happy, so what are you gonna do?

But getting back to that Mother's Day gift. What are you doing for your moms? I'd love to hear about your traditions and your gifts.

For my mom this year, instead of a framed photo of her grandsons or some tea cups made of china or some other gift she'll be forced to keep forever ("...because it's from my son and my grandsons!"), I decided to buy her and her fellow mom friends, breakfast.

I know it's not the most glamorous present in the world, but I think it'll make her happy. She'll be spending time with her friends--who are also moms whose sons and daughters have moved away from my hometown, Twentynine Palms. I'll ask my dad to buy them each a flower. They'll be allowed to brag as much as they want about their sons and daughters and grandchildren.  And no one will cringe.

Breakfast with her friends couldn't possibly be an adequate thanks for everything my mom has done for me. But I know she'll tell me it was perfect. She's been doing it all my life whether she believed it or not.

And as she always taught me (and maybe your mom taught you), it's the thought that counts when it comes to gift-giving. And I'll be thinking of you, mom, on Mother's Day.

If you missed it today, Sam Rubin and I are now once again part of the "Water Cooler" discussion at the beginning of the 9 AM show. 

You wrote and management reacted (all be it a compromise). 

Yes you can effect change!

Mark Kriski

I have been to very very few funerals in my life, but the idea of memorials are not upsetting to me. I think there are incredible lessons in a life well lived. When the celebrated Los Angeles Times Sports Columnist Jim Murray died, Vin Scully delivered the obituary, and Scully remarked on the weather saying that the day of Murray's death was a "soft day," and that that was appropriate given the nature of Jim Murray and his incredible spirit.

Today has been another soft day, and any of us who are ice cream fans are mourning the passing of the father of the modern ice cream shop, Irvine Robbins; who put up the first Baskin-Robbins '31 Flavors' in Glendale in 1945. He was 90 years old.

About 30 years after that store first opened, I became an employee of Baskin-Robbins; and for a year or so, if you went to the '31' on Pico Blvd between Overland and Westwood in Rancho Park; catty-corner from the Apple Pan, I may well have been the the scooper bringing you a cup or cone of Pralines n' Cream or Mint Chip or whatever your favorite flavor might be. It was a really fun first job, and on a hot summer night, with a long line running outside the door; it may have also been one of the most challenging jobs I have ever had.

The Los Angeles Times has a detailed obituary all about Robbins' life, from which I will borrow here. After military service Robbins and his partner decided to "open a store that sold nothing but Ice Cream and do it in an outstanding way." The life-lesson here is the idea of focusing in on something and doing that one particular thing particularly well. Robbins not only had a flare for ice cream, he had a great flare for promotion.

When the Dodgers came to Los Angeles in 1958, '31 flavors' introduced 'Baseball Nut' ice cream. When I worked at '31' there was a big disco movie with Donna Summer and the Village People that was coming out. It was called "Can't Stop The Music," Baskin-Robbins introduced a new flavor called "Can't Stop The Nuts." I nearly fell over laughing when I first saw the poster in our store. But , as with all the flavors, the joke was often in the title, but never in the ice cream itself. "Can't Stop The Nuts" wasn't so bad.

Robbins invented the top-selling Jamoca Almond Fudge, a flavor the public loves but I never really liked. He also invented 'Ketchup' ice cream and 'Grape Britain' two flavors that never left the Ice Cream lab that is still located in Burbank.

There are few people who are authentic through and through; and Irvine Robbins was certainly one of them. His house in Encino was comfortable, but not a flamboyant mansion. In the backyard, he had a swimming pool; in the shape of an ice cream cone. His family reports that even as he reached his 80's; he would start each day with a bowl of cereal and top that bowl with a scoop of banana ice cream. When I was growing up my mother would make Cream of Wheat cereal and she would top it with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. When I started working at Baskin-Robbins; I would bring our favorite flavors home. I don't think I was paid very much to work there, but the quality of my family's freezer vastly improved.

Before Penguin's and before Pinkberry and long after Swenson's and Wil Wright's left the ice cream scene, '31' endures all around the city, and all around the world. We have a lot to thank Irvine Robbins for; but the sense I get is that Robbins was well aware of our universal admiration and affection; and the only person who enjoyed '31' flavors more than the customers was the man who came up with the whole idea. He will be missed.

Technology. One of the many inevitabilities of progress. There’s a lot to be said for it. Most good - some not so good. Cars, airplanes, digital cameras, Windows Vista, 4,246 satellite channels and classic films available in seven different languages. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen "South Pacific" in Bulgarian. All good stuff.

But cellular telephones... Now that is a three-headed beast to be reckoned with. Sure, it’s convenient, they save us time and in emergencies, the ability to communicate is critical. But it’s gotten to a point where about every third car you see anywhere in Los Angeles, any time of day, contains a driver actively talking on a cellular phone.

Probably three in every five teenagers in any mall in any city are talking or texting. At least one, maybe two people in every post office line are yakking away. The market, the bank, everywhere. Nothing is sacred. What can they possibly be talking about that can’t wait?

In my view, the wireless telephone is a tool. Something that augments and facilitates daily business. For millions of people however, it represents something between a social anxiety prop and a security blanket. What other answer could there be?

I think a lot of it also is the stigma from long ago that talking on a wireless device makes you look "cool", or somehow privileged. A throwback to the James Bond and Matt Helm movies of the 1960's and ‘70s where only international spies, mega-executives and super-villains had the wherewithal to communicate remotely.

Well, as with most things in life, there is a time and a place for everything. Never mind that mankind survived just fine for thousands of years without having the ability to order pizza, make a chiropractor appointment and call the soccer office for the kid’s game times all within the space of three minutes of freeway driving.

In public places - it’s rude. I’m sorry. Just plain rude. No one wants to overhear someone else’s trivial B.S. Especially the loud ones who discuss stock quotes or real estate transactions. L-O-S-E-R. No one thinks that person is cool, or important. They’re just stupid. Blunt objects who don’t have the common decency to take it elsewhere. Remember this quotation: "Those who know the LEAST know it the LOUDEST."

The ones who are attached to the phone the most are undoubtedly the winners of the "Freudian Stew" award for having the most unresolved psyche issues. Don’t forget the EMF danger either. It hasn’t been totally proven yet, but don’t wait to start growing a third arm out of your head to then say "gee - I guess I shouldn’t have talked so much on that thing." DUH!

As I see it, the large-scale damage to society at the hands of wireless phones is as follows:

A) Driving and talking - be it hands-free or not - is a massive liability. Statistics prove that monkeying with the cell phone and conversing while driving puts the driver at EQUAL RISK as being legally intoxicated (DUI). It endangers the lives of the driver, passengers if any, other motorists, you, me, our children and our cousins. So unless it’s really and truly necessary to make a call while driving - just please stop it. OK? Stop it. The death toll just keeps rising.

B) The affects on our children are deep and immeasurable. Text messaging and phone e-mail (in concert with certain "networking" websites) are turning teenagers into social zombies. What’s a people skill? A face to face conversation? How do you do that? Social etiquette in the company of adults? No clue. But hot dang, that kid can type EIGHTY words per minute with his thumbs. What happens to all the little techno-cyborgs when it’s time to apply for jobs and get into a real college and map out a gainful future? PARENTING. HELLO! Cigarettes don’t just "jump" into young mouths. They go there because of a lack of parental guidance. RF devices becoming proxies for human interaction are such for precisely the same reasons.

Closing statement: no one device in the history of modern man has 1) engendered more unfounded self-importance among the masses than any other consumer commodity, and 2) devaluated to the point of social bankruptcy the propensity of young people to interact as HUMAN BEINGS and learn the fundamental meaning of "friendship". A text screen is a cold semiconductor device that does not offer the touch of a hand, eye communication, body language or the full range of human emotions. Meet for coffee. Study together. Watch a movie. Play scrabble. Values people. Values.

Earlier this week, a few of us from the show gathered at Hugo's in West Hollywood to have lunch and to kick around some ideas. Lunch was good and the discussion was decent--except for the part when one of my colleagues told me to lose the Old Man Buckley routine.

I'll get to the proposed departure of Old Man Buckley in a moment, but first, a headline. In fact, a headline about the headlines.

Remember how we used to start the show with the anchors and reporters each giving you a headline?Several of you told me in your blog posts that you've missed that. One of the things to come out of the meeting is a return of the headlines.

We got rid of it after focus groups told our bosses they hated it, that it just went on for too long as they waited for the show to start. But some of you, maybe many of you, actually liked it and it's one of those pieces of the original KTLA Morning News that made the show unique.

So, the headline is: the headlines are coming back. They may come back in a slightly different form to save time, but they're coming back. So stay tuned for that.

We talked about other things at the meeting as well and I won't bore you with all the details but the headline change is a good example of where we're going. We're getting back to the basics and then adding some additional elements to make the show even better.

The bottom line though--no matter what cosmetic changes we make, the news will continue to be Job One. Yes, we will always work just as hard to put a smile on your face every morning, but news, and especially breaking news that affects us here in Southern California, will always trump everything else.

Our coverage of the Hollywood fire this week was an example of that. Our folks had worked very hard on a number of stories and on the "Needle in the Haystack" contest to air throughout the morning. But everyone knew we had to give the fire the coverage it deserved, and so segments and stories died and the contest was delayed until later. In the past, we might have cut away from the fire. Not this time. And everyone felt good about that.

Speaking of dying, and getting back to that lunch meeting, Old Man Buckley may be about to croak it.

No, I'm not leaving the show and I'm not sick or anything. I'm talking about the Old Man Buckley that has become, according to one of my colleagues at the meeting, my "on-air persona."

As faithful Morning News Watchers (MNWs?) know, I occasionally call myself Old Man Buckley. It just came out one day during the Hot Topics on the old 9 o'clock show.

I was sort of poking fun at myself because some of my beliefs are a little old fashioned--I think people should drive slowly in residential neighborhoods, for example, and I'm not shy about yelling out to someone blazing down my street to "Slow down!"

Old Man Buckley was meant to be a bit of a joke, reflecting some of my Old School values, but this colleague told me it wasn't a flattering image. That viewers who are still getting to know me shouldn't have as a first impression, Old Man Buckley. Someone else said at the meeting that I need to do more to connect with you on a more personal level.

So first, it's obvious to you I'm not an old man, right? I hope? I may sometimes feel like an old man when I'm playing basketball or when my sons roll their eyes and say "Daaaaaaad!" when I've embarrassed them in some way. But you do understand I'm not nearly as old as say...Mark, right? Sorry, cheap shot older friend!

But just for kicks--what's your guess? How old is Old Man Buckley? I'll reveal the truth at a later date.

And second, on the personal business. I think it'll take time for me to tell you my life story. We're building a relationship here and quite honestly, it's still a little awkward for me to inject my personal life into the anchoring.

As I've said to some of you before, I've always tried hard to keep the personal out of my reporting, so telling you about my wife and sons and what we do on the weekends, how I feel about this or that item in the news, is still a bit foreign to me. Even this blogging business is a strange new world for Old Man Buckley...uh...I mean, for me.

Still, I get it that you expect me to be personal in this job so I'll keep working at it. I trust we'll get to know each other over time. As for Old Man Buckley, he'll continue to live on in my soul though you may see a little less of him on TV. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong impression.

I'll get to the family argument we've been having on these blog pages in a moment, but first: You wanna have a catch?

I'm a pretty sentimental dude and the beginning of baseball season always takes me back to my own "Glory Days" as Bruce put it. I played organized baseball from the time I could pick up a bat through my senior year in high school. I was mediocre at best.

Still, as cliche as it sounds, I remember with great fondness the smell of the perfectly raked dirt and the freshly cut grass, the camaraderie of my teammates, the "ping" of the aluminum bat hitting the baseball.

These days, I'm just another fan in the stands. But baseball's never been more fun because I'm watching my sons enjoy the game as much as I did.

Last evening, 11-year-old Ben Buckley pitched middle inning relief as his team, the Red Sox, beat the Cubs 9-8. Earlier in the week, it was seven-year-old Sebastian Buckley of his Red Sox team going 3 for 3 against a pitching machine and the Phillies. As their dad, I beam with pride no matter the outcome. It takes courage to take to the mound or to field a one-hopper or to hit a moving ball that might hit you.

What is it about baseball that gets to us the way it does? I'm not ashamed to say I bawled like a baby at the end of "Field of Dreams" when Kevin Costner uttered the line: "Hey dad? You wanna have a catch?"

As I've grown older and had sons of my own take to the game, I've come to appreciate baseball more than ever. There's something special about a game we pass from generation to generation, one we begin playing with our dads from the time we can "have a catch."

Professional baseball players get paid to play the game, but the fans are the ones who own it. When we pay for our tickets and step into the stadium, we're keeping the game alive for another generation. Maybe that's why some fans are so passionate about baseball. Maybe that's why we get so annoyed when the pros take it for granted or harm the game in some way.

In a way, that passion and annoyance applies to the family argument we've been having on these blog pages...

To the first-time reader of our blogs, it must be like showing up at a holiday dinner of a family you barely know and watching the family erupt in a big argument.

To you, I'd like to say this: I'm fairly new to the family, too, and what I've learned is that deep down, the members of this family (our viewers, our staff, our on-air reporters and anchors, our blog posters), love this family. They feel passionately about the news, about this show, about its legacy and about the people who work on the show now and who've worked on it in the past.

Some of their comments in their posts on this blog are biting and for those of us on the receiving end, they can sting. We're all human. But for the most part, I think they're made with the hopes of making the show the best it can be. (Those few who are critical just to be hurtful reveal themselves pretty quickly).

Don't be afraid of the family. Embrace it and appreciate it for what it is--a group of smart, opinionated, passionate people who watch our show and aren't afraid to let you know how they really feel. They're people who care. That's a good thing.

Like fans of baseball, the members of this family who post comments, who send their emails to the station, the viewers of the KTLA Morning News, feel the show is theirs. After all, it wouldn't exist if they hadn't supported it all these years.  They too have passed the show from generation to generation. It's understandable that a few will boo when the game changes. Our job is to keep playing it and to keep honoring its traditions.

We're hardly professional baseball players but those of us who are lucky enough to work on the KTLA Morning News can never take it for granted. It's an institution in our community, in broadcasting, in your hearts.

Someone in the stands at my son's baseball game asked me last night if my goal was to move on to a national news broadcast someday. Why would I? I wondered. This is exactly where I want to be, playing exactly the game I want to play.

Baseball's been through a rough patch or two.  The game has always survived. Our show is going through one now. We'll weather it. I hope you'll stay with us as we make our way through it.

Isn't it interesting that the ladies of "The Morning News" have been absent from the Blog page. Hmmm.

Oh-my-God. Can there be any more perplexing, incredulous, antagonizing and entirely incomprehensible corporate situation in America than the AIRLINES?

Remember when flying was exciting, something worth anticipation - even occasionally FUN? Air travel has gone from being a keen little adventure to something akin to doing penance.

I honestly do not believe that I could highlight another industry where EVERY human interface with the customer - you and I - has become more universally dismal, mournful, discourteous and UNIMPORTANT to those rendering "service".

Makes you feel warm and fuzzy putting your lives in those hands doesn’t it? It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Every type of business has its share of the token grouch. The medical secretary who grunts and hands you the sign in clipboard without even looking up; the automotive service writer who accuses you of breaking the car when you explain the problem; the bank teller who makes it known that YOU are interrupting their conversation with their co-worker. Typical amateur nonsense, especially in retail businesses.

The big difference is; those ill-mannered people are in most cases the exception. There are lots of happy and professional bank tellers to be found, managers are polite and courteous most of the time; executive staff in most industries you could cite are happy to have their position and lead a gainful and generally pleasant life that projects good vibes to peers and strangers alike.

But Lord have mercy - the airlines. The baggage handlers are angry. The ticket agents are angry. The flightline personnel are angry. The cabin crew are angry. The PILOTS are angry. The ATC controllers are angry. The FAA admin is angry. You have an entire industry that wakes up every day dreading going in to work. A MULTI-BILLION DOLLAR industry that is woefully insolvent financially, populated by the most miserable work force on the planet, has NO COMPETITION [Greyhound busses; Amtrak, merchant vessels??], and is terminally in a state of total disintegration. EXPLAIN!!! I am not understanding this folks.

You can only blame fuel prices so much. A lot of it is relative. One carrier cancels flights into the THOUSANDS and the CEO offers only that he was "responsible". Thank you sir! I feel SO much better now. Cue Twilight Zone theme music. Oh yes - and "merger magic" is in the air [no pun]. We’re gonna end up with three domestic airlines, no competition, prices in high earth orbit, and everyone will STILL HATE WHAT THEY DO! We’d better start building Conestoga Wagons ("Prairie Schooners") en masse, ‘cause we’re gonna need them soon. The "Friendly Skies" have gotten very ugly.

P.S. A note to all viewers, readers, "Rat Packers" and bloggers; Houston - I am aware of the problem. We’re dealing with non-linear equations here. Not the kind like 3x + 2y - z = 1. The kind where complicated problems take some time to remedy. I hear you. So do key individuals in places where important decisions are made. That is where I am focusing my energies - which derive from 15 years of tenure, and a loyal base of support from people like yourselves. Through all the static, the dart-throwing, the personality banter and the ubiquitous politics, know this; I’m on it, and I’m with you.

Candidate Ronald Reagan uttered those famous words in 1980 during a presidential debate with then-President Jimmy Carter, and in the wake of this week's debate between Senators Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton, I can't stop thinking about them.

I want to say "There you go again" to this year's candidates, their strategists, and the press corps covering them. Here WE go again into the meat of another presidential election cycle that seems destined to once again focus more on the personal values, misstatements and gaffes of the candidates than the policies they would implement. The candidates will have to answer questions over and again about people who support them or who've served on a board with them however distant the relationships may be.

This week, Obama played defense.  In previous debates, it was Clinton or McCain. The political press corps--looking for new headlines after a year or more of covering these candidates, eagerly plays into the negative campaign playbook of strategists determined to tear down their opponents.

Do the personal values of the candidates matter? Of course they do. But why do they become THE focus of these campaigns every four years?  Why do we as voters continue to play along by letting ourselves become distracted from the problems we want our government leaders to tackle? 

Obama was clearly irritated by Charles Gibson and George Stephanopolous and their focus on the personal during the first half of the debate, saying later: "They like stirring up controversy and they like playing gotcha games, getting us to attack each other."  He added: "Last night, I think we set a new record because it took us 45 minutes before we even started talking about a single issue that matters to the American people."

While Senator Obama's controversial pastor, his "bitter" comment about some small town residents, and his relationship with a '70s radical are certainly fair game, I wonder if Obama has a point about the weight those issues are getting relative to what voters really care about. I wonder if Senators Clinton and McCain have had to spend too much time answering questions that have nothing to do with how they would govern if elected. Your thoughts?

Look, I've been there and done that as a correspondent so I'm just as guilty as the folks on the press plane today. But I will say this: It's not that you're wanting to see the campaign degenerate into name-calling, it just does, and your job as a reporter is to cover what the candidates are saying and doing. I had hoped however that there might be a better way to call the candidates on it this time around, a better way to keep the negative campaigning in perspective.

All of this to say, I had really planned to blog about the national disgrace that is our healthcare system.  I was going to appeal to our candidates to actually do something about it after one of them is elected.  We can no longer afford to just talk about it. 

To that end, I watched a great Frontline documentary on PBS this week entitled "Sick Around the World." It looked at five capitalist democracies and how each seems to deliver health care far more effectively than we do. If it comes on again, I highly recommend it. In the meantime, you might go to pbs.org and check out the website dedicated to the show which has much of the program's information neatly packaged in one place.

Our failed healthcare system is but one of the major challenges facing this nation in the years ahead.  I hope our candidates will refocus their campaigns on those challenges in the months ahead, and that we as voters will reward those candidates with our votes.

My father had something of a temper, but his bark was considerably worse than his bite. Any time his upset would flare-up, (probably the angriest I ever saw him is when I was 12 and I left a bank passbook in my jeans pocket and turned an entire load of family laundry an indelible green), my mother would always say even though he is yelling at you; your father is really mad at himself.

I was prompted to think about the idea of anger on Wednesday morning, when I sat on the set and Frank remarked to me off the air that I seemed upset and out of sorts. His observation sort of annoyed me, because he was actually absolutely correct. And like my father before me, I was a little angry..but I was angry at myself. An editorial choice had been made that day, not a big deal, but something that I wouldn't have done; and I think what I was really mad about; was that it truly wasn't a big deal; 'it's only television after all' and I should have been able to shake it off much more quickly than I was.

I think the use and misuse of anger is an interesting notion. There is nothing more upsetting, nothing smaller than to watch someone "punch down." "Punching Down" of course is when someone in a position of power is unduly rude or mean, just because they can be. I used to have a part-time job on KLSX radio, a job I in fact miss very, very much. Among the people who used to follow me on the air, and eventually replaced me, is one Frosty Stillwell; who is as emotionally small as he is physically big. I once saw him scream and swear and yell at an intern or a production assistant with such fierce bile, I will never forget it. The worst example of punching down ever.

Perhaps another idea of misplaced anger are some of the letters I have been reading in our own Morning News blog. I enjoy a spirited debate with anybody, but to be able rant anonymously and with such a degree of unnecessary vitriol seems like the cyber version of 'Punching Down.' Still, I think any letter pro or con, should be posted. If you give someone enough rope they often are able to hang themselves and I think some of the most mean-spirited and divisive letters do just that to their respective authors.

Now to the creative use of anger. In the best possible way. I was among those on the floor in Anaheim for Bruce Springsteen. I have been a fan forever and feel I know most of his considerable catalogue by heart. But last Tuesday night he sang a song I hadn't heard in a long time. A song about pent-up anger and upset; and it was absolutely great and completely topical given our current economy and the ever widening and shameful gap between rich and poor. The song is called 'Promised Land,' and here is a sample of the lyrics.

I've done my best to live the right way
I get up every morning and go to work each day
But your eyes go blind and your blood runs cold
Sometimes i feel so weak i just want to explode
Explode and tear this town apart
Take a knife and cut this pain from my heart
Find somebody itching for something to start
The dogs on main street howl `cause they understand
If i could take one moment into my hands
Mister i ain't a boy no i'm a man
And i believe in a promised land

Along with about 15,000 others I was screaming these lyrics at the top of my lungs, and on stage you could see the genuine and sincere working-man anger that Springsteen channeled into something artistic and great. It was beyond moving; and reminded me that the true gift of truly creative people is to be able to take whatever emotions they are feeling and turn them into something positive. It's a lesson all of us can stand to re-learn the next time something ticks us off.