A merry, and white, Christmas

It snowed last night in Woodbridge – just a little, but enough to cover the ground and bring us a white Christmas. We’re sitting with the dogs, listening to the Nutcracker and having first breakfast – thank you Mr. Tolkien for this wonderful idea. Soon we’ll open presents and then have second breakfast. Yay.

After that we’ll likely not leave the house. There’s a turkey brining and I baked cornbread yesterday, so sometime early afternoon I’ll banish Ransom from the kitchen and get to work.

Lest you think I’ve gone all soft and Norman Rockwell on you, let me share with you the picture below and tell you that after dinner we plan to watch the French film Porn Theatre. A perfect ending to a perfect Christmas.

Artist: Jennifer McCracken

Nature aint always pretty

Ransom and I didn’t arrive home until the 23^rd of December, so the decorations this year will be minimal. It’s the morning of Christmas Eve as I write this and so far the only thing I’ve hung is my beloved 67-year-old Santa face -- you can see him in the picture below. We did just install our Christmas tree though and shortly I will add lights. Probably only lights this year, as adding man-made ornaments to this glorious work of nature seems somehow wrong.

Christmas doesn’t mean as much as it once did, though I did choke up a bit as the congregation of Kings College Chapel, Cambridge, sang O Come All Ye Faithful during today’s Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols.

But back to the tree. Hurricane Sandy toppled LOTS of trees in our neck of the woods, including this Norwegian Pine, so this morning Ransom and I, and the three dogs (Cassie, Zeus and Paulo) went into those woods to bring home the top of this once 40-foot tall tree. Sure, she’s not a perfectly shaped product of some Christmas tree farm somewhere, but that’s more to the good. She grew proudly just yards away from us and now, instead of rotting in place where she fell, she is gracing our home.

Nature aint always pretty, but she can be sweet and rich with meaning.

Merry Christmas all!

Death and Pleasure, War and Pain

Life is so varied. We are docked in St Maarten as I write this, enjoying our penultimate day on the Celebrity Summit. It has been just the vacation I expected: very low key, with little activity and lots of good food, leavened by making new friends, a charming Maryland couple whose company we have enjoyed thoroughly.

We flew to this ship though on the day of the Connecticut massacre. You surely know more than I do about that horrible situation, as I studiously avoid watching or reading any news whenever I am on a ship. The dichotomy of joining a luxury cruise on the day families were mourning their lost children is not lost on me. Life is sad and varied.

The cruise has been delightful; we did not get off the ship in Barbados; we got off separately for no more than 30 minutes in St Lucia; Ransom stayed onboard in Antigua as I explored the port for perhaps an hour and today we will likely stray no further than the pier-side shops, even though we love this island, especially the French side. Cruising for us is not about traveling to different places; it’s about enjoying the pampered life aboard. Life is pleasurable and easy.

My reading material for this voyage has been E. B. Sledge’s justifiably famous account of World War II, With the Old Breed: At Peleliu and Okinawa. Ever since I watched The War on PBS, Ken Burns’s riveting documentary, I have wanted to read Sledge’s well-respected book. It’s a gripping tale, full of eyewitness low-level detail that only an infantryman would know. He doesn’t talk much about the war in its overarching goals or campaigns, but rather about the day-to-day life of the grunts who bore the burden of combat. It’s an eye-opener, to be sure. Life is misery.

Sledge makes the point several times that only those who went through combat can understand what it was like. He quotes World War I officer and poet Siegfried Sassoon:

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.

Near the end of the Okinawa campaign Sledge writes:

Sitting in stunned silence, we remembered our dead. So many dead. So many maimed. So many bright futures consigned to the ashes of the past. So many dreams lost in the madness that had engulfed us.

Death in Connecticut. Sunsets in the Caribbean. Death in the Pacific. Life is strange and sad, pleasurable and easy. Life is varied.

Celebrity Summit

There’s something comforting about boarding a ship you’ve sailed before. Though I don’t claim to remember where exactly everything is, it all looks familiar. I’d wager I don’t have quite the deer-in-the-headlights look of some of the first time cruisers I’ve seen stumbling about. Of course this is our sixth Celebrity sailing, so the whole experience, whatever the ship, has a familiar ambience.

It is also my twenty-fifth sailing, starting with a 1954 Pacific crossing on a forgotten military transport ship taking my Mom, brother and me to Yokohama to rejoin my Dad after his service in Korea. I’ve loved sailing ever since. I did four in the 70s with my friend Don (Queen Anna Maria, Mardi Gras and Carla C -- which left, as this one will, from San Juan -- and QE2); one with my parents and a friend (Song of America); two transatlantic crossings on QE2, one alone, one with Sergio, my friend and Ransom’s former student; a Rhine River cruise with Don in 1995; two orchestra cruises with Ransom conducting Solisti New York (Holland America’s Rotterdam, once in the Caribbean and once to Alaska); a wonderful week on the Norway (the once mighty and elegant SS France) with my “sister” Elaine; and then many with just Ransom: in the Caribbean, from New York to Bermuda, through the Panama Canal, from Vancouver to Hawaii and, most recently, from Rome to Bayonne.

(And is that a sentence worthy of the young Faulkner, or what?) 

We love being on a ship. We eat well, we sleep well and mostly, we relax. Don’t do the variety shows, don’t do the comedy shows, don’t play bingo or visit the casino. We just vegetate and recharge. This itinerary includes a day at sea tomorrow and then five island stops: Barbados, St Lucia, Antigua, St Maarten and St Thomas. It’s likely we won’t get off the ship at any of them since we’ve been to them all and since the ship is such a pleasant place to be when most of the hoi, and a lot of the polloi, leave it.

One intriguing feature of this ship is the specialty dining room, Normandie.

Quick primer for those who don’t know: used to be that all food was included in the cost of your cruise ticket. You could eat in the dining room or at the lido buffet. Those options still exist, but one can also choose to spend more money and eat in a “specialty” restaurant.  When this concept debuted there would be one such place onboard and it came with a nominal charge, maybe $10. Now there are ships with four, five or more such choices, and the tariff goes up to $75 per person. Not outrageous for a wonderful meal maybe, but remember, you’ve already paid for that meal once.

As for the Normandie: she’s a gourmet restaurant with a traditional and elegant service in a beautiful room (pictures below) that features artifacts from the first class dining room of the SS Normandie, the most beautiful ship that ever sailed. We ate there years ago and quite enjoyed it -- not sure if we will go there again. We’ll see.

It’ll partly depend on the food in Blu, our assigned restaurant. Another innovation: we’re in Aqua Class, a Celebrity category that emphasizes a lighter, healthier, more active spa-related lifestyle. If the experience there is fine, we may not venture further.

As with all decisions on board, we will make this one when we have to. No pressure. The word of the day is: relax.

Horror 20 miles away

It’s time, goddammit. Repeal the second amendment. Quit pretending that this problem will go away. Guns don’t kill children? The fuck they don’t! How many of these kids would be dead if the assassin had carried only knives?

Republicans who kowtow to the gun lobby, SHAME ON YOU! Democrats who do so, you disgust me. The lives of our children have to be more important than your reelection. Shame, shame, shame.

It’s time the rest of us do something about this insanity. Kick the assholes who support gun ownership out of office. Or maybe encourage them to take one of their beloved guns and use it alone in a quiet room.

This cannot go on.

People in wheelchairs need not apply

You might have missed this latest bid of news: Senate Republicans successfully derailed the ratification of a United Nations treaty aimed at helping disabled people around the world. The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities has already been ratified by more than 125 nations and is in fact based on US law, the landmark ADA, Americans with Disabilities Act.

But many Republicans disliked it. More to the point, most Tea Party Republicans disliked it. So the treaty was scuttled. Even wheeling Bob Dole, a Republican icon, onto the Senate floor was not enough to persuade the small-minded, diversity-fearing xenophobes that go by the name of the Republican caucus.

I have little more to say. I am, once again disgusted by the Republican party. You can read Gail Collins piece in today’s New York Times if you want to know more.

Winston Churchill reportedly said “If you're not a liberal at twenty you have no heart, if you're not a conservative at forty you have no brain.” The undercurrent here is that if you’re a Republican in 21st century America you have no heart, no compassion, no ability to think beyond your own tiny, egocentric worldview. You should NOT be representing the fine people of this country!

This one's for you, Dad

I try to go into the city every year in December; if nothing else, I walk by the tree at Rockefeller Center and perhaps stroll Fifth Avenue a bit. I’ve often said I take in New York City Ballet’s Nutcracker every five years or so, and the Radio City Christmas show every ten. Turns out that last bit is not true, as it had been over twenty-five years since I saw the music hall show.

It was an oddly balmy December evening in New York and the crowds, while thick, were not the almost unmoving throngs I have experienced closer to Christmas. The city was looking its best and the Rockettes were kicking as high as ever.

The Christmas Spectacular, as it’s called, is, in many ways, exactly that. First, there’s the immensity of this 1932 art deco palace (left); visitors are not getting their money’s worth if they don’t wander the lobby, visit the lower level with its stunning and huge restrooms and walk up toward the stage to marvel at the immensity of the auditorium – almost 6000 seats. While pondering the enormity of the place, remember that from 1933 to 1979 it was a movie theatre, showcasing RKO films, which alternated with live stage shows. Radio City also has the largest theater pipe organ ever built for a movie theater -- with two consoles, as you can see.

I can remember being in New York City with my family; we’d drop my mother off at 50th Street and then Dad, Ray and I would go do something else. For the standard price of a movie anywhere else, mom would see a film and several stage acts, including the Rockettes.

A1948 New York Times film review ends with this line: “On the stage at the Music Hall are Margaret Sande and George Tatar, dancers; Ernie and Marquita, the Fredarry’s Trio and the Corps de Ballet, Glee Club and Rockettes” – again, all for the price of a movie ticket!

I thoroughly enjoyed very much of last night’s show. Of course I LOVED the Rockettes, who appeared more times than I expected: six I think. The Dance of the Wooden Soldiers (picture below), their most famous number, still thrills as it always has and their precision and kick lines are wonderful. When they were on stage I was grinning like a cat.

The other parts of the show vary from mildly tacky to intrusively commercial to technologically brilliant. This year’s edition has two 3D segments (glasses provided). The first, Santa’s sleigh flight from the North Pole to the Music Hall, was brilliant; the second, a video game segment, far less so.

(I'm not fond of doing other people's advertising, but this video gives you an overview of the show).

The Rockettes in the 60s

Throughout the evening I kept thinking about my dad. He loved the Rockettes and every Thanksgiving morning we would watch the parade until we had seen them—a tradition I mostly still maintain. I don’t know if dad ever saw them live; maybe he went with mom to one of those movies. I hope so, for he would have loved it and he certainly deserved it. Merry Christmas, Dad.

Concerts, part 2

After cleaning out some of the frontal lobe cobwebs I came up with a list of other concerts I’ve attended. There are surely more lost to the currents of time, but these come to mind:

- I mentioned Bette Midler in Richmond in the 70s: her band was fronted by Barry Manilow. I had never heard of him before but remember thinking he was an ace piano player and led a really tight band. The second half of the concert opened with him and the band doing three numbers sans the Divine. Manilow was not yet the schlockmeister he became.

- Labelle at around the same time: Patti LaBelle, Nona Hendryx and Sarah Dash. They put on quite a show but nothing quite topped their entrance, especially Patti’s: descending from the fly space, her fifteen-foot long dress train preceding her.

- The first musician I remember seeing live was Lionel Hampton, the vibraphone master, at the Camp Zama Officer’s Club in Japan. I would have been fourteen maybe. It was a dinner dance and this weird mallet instrument I had never before seen enchanted me.

- The Kingston Trio also paid a visit to Japan and that was the first concert I ever attended where I could sing along, knowing many of their songs.

- I saw Henry Mancini at Notre Dame and though some might laugh, he put on an incredible show. When there was microphone trouble at one point he brought the house down by whistling the Fight Song.

- My buddy Malette and I heard Barbara Cook at a New York cabaret (the Oak Room maybe) and she was phenomenal – hell, at 80 years old she’s still phenomenal today. I mentioned Frank Sinatra at Carnegie in my earlier post. He was, alas, past his prime then, but it was Sinatra at Carnegie. How could I not go? I was so glad I did.

- Joan Baez at the Mosque was very special, though some of that specialness wore off later: she ended the show and came back for an encore; with her guitar held at her feet she sang an a cappella version of Amazing Grace. After a verse she lead us through several more. When it was over she looked at us and said "thank you; that was beautiful." It was magical and, as I say, special -- until a couple years later, when she released a live album. She ended the show and came back for an encore; she sang an a cappella version of Amazing Grace. After a verse she lead the audience through several more. When it was over she said "thank you; that was beautiful." ------ Wasn't quite so special anymore.

- Special though was going backstage after their Notre Dame concert to meet Peter, Paul and Mary. I was with Tina and they had sung a song about "Tina," so we had to chat with them. I remember Mary’s hair being the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

- I forgot the other day to list the Doors, Al Kooper and Steve Forbert. The Doors concert was in Chicago in 1968 or 1969 and I’m afraid I don’t remember much of it – you know, if you remember the sixties, you weren’t there. Kooper (of Blood, Sweat and Tears et al) was at B B Kings in New York fairly recently and put on a great show. It’s such a fun venue to hear music. Steve Forbert I've seen four times I think. You might not know him, though you likely remember his one Top 10 hit, Romeo’s Tune. When he arrived on the scene in 1979 he was lauded as the next Dylan and his debut album was highly praised. Unfortunately his career never really took off. He’s still recording – I have 25 of his albums – but he never managed to become the superstar he should’ve been.

The worst concert I ever saw? I was at home in Richmond one afternoon when my friend Don called. “What are you doing tonight?” he asked. “Nothing,” I replied. “Great, he said; I have free tickets to the John Denver show; let’s go.”

“No thanks,” I replied. “I thought you were doing nothing,” he cajoled. “Yeah, and I’d rather do that.”

Shoulda stuck to my guns. It was like being smothered by a bale of cotton candy. I ate raw lemons for a week to get that taste out of my mouth.

I saw Randy Travis in New York City during my 80s country phase -- also Dwight Yoakam -- and Tito Puente at Yale, and Rufus Wainwright likewise. 

I believe I saw Solomon Burke and maybe Wilson Pickett but I can’t swear to that. I was still inhaling.

Edith Piaf and Judy Garland for sure.

Oh, no, wait, that was a dream.

Concerts

When I was writing about Paul McCartney the other day I could not find the Beatles ticket pictured above; I feared I had lost it. Note the price: $5! For the Beatles! Incredible.


I don’t have a lot of memories of that concert. I know we got our tickets through a radio station and that they provided a bus from Richmond. I know that the Ronettes (Walkin’ in the Rain, Be My Baby) and the Cyrkle (Red Rubber Ball) played before the Beatles, though in truth I can’t really remember them. In fact I have only one clear memory of the Beatles playing: I really, really wanted them to play one particular song. If they did that then the trip would be a success, and I would not care that mostly what I heard was tens of thousands of screaming girls.

They played the song, and I went home very happy. Do you remember this song? (Click the link).

As historic as that concert was, it was certainly not the best concert I ever saw – obviously, since we could hardly hear the Beatles. What would be the best the concert ever? I doubt I could choose one, but here are some possibilities:

- The Rolling Stones, July 4, 1966, at the Virginia Beach Dome, a small geodesic dome – yes, designed by R Buckminster Fuller – that probably didn’t seat 1200 people. We were in maybe the sixth row, no more than fifteen feet from the stage. The highpoint of the show was Satisfaction and Mick Jagger was, of course, mesmerizing. 

- The Stones again, July 5, 1972:  By now the large arenas were being built and this concert was at Norfolk Scope. Only the Stones were advertised; only the Stones were on the poster; but when the house lights went down a voice over the PA said “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome . . . Mr. Stevie Wonder!” It was incredible. Stevie Wonder opening for the Stones? In all other circumstances he would have been the headliner, with one or even two bands opening for him. He, and they, were spectacular. 

- I saw them one more time at Shea Stadium; it was a great concert, but stadium concerts are not the same. 

- The Who at Cap Center, Sep 23, 1982. I think this was the second time I saw them, though it might have been the first. I loved the Who then and love them still. My clearest memory was of smiling at the mostly teenage crowd as the band sang “only a teenage wasteland.” I was a 34 year-old teenager. 

- June, 1994, Barbra Streisand at Madison Square Garden while the Gay Games were in town. She was exquisite and though I like her early stuff far more than anything past 1975 or so, it was a wonderful concert, made more special by being with Ransom. 

- Bob Seger in 1986, also at the Garden. Maybe the best-ever bar band to grow into superstar status. Can you name a bad Seger song? I can’t. 

- James Brown several times in the 60s. The best was an 11pm show that didn’t start til well past midnight and didn’t end til almost dawn. The man truly was “the hardest working man in show business,” and his stage shows were nothing short of astounding. 

- The Stax/Volt revue at the Richmond Mosque / Otis Redding at the Mosque Ballroom. The first is well-documented in the albums Stax/Volt Revue Live in London and Live in Paris: Booker T and the MGs, the Bar-keys, Carla Thomas, Eddie Floyd, Sam & Dave and Otis Redding – a collection of talent and energy that tore the roof off the place. The latter was perhaps even more exciting: the Stax house band (Booker T & the MGs and the Bar-keys) would play a set, then Redding would join them for a set, then the band again, then Redding again to close the show. When Otis was not on stage, we were dancing in the cavernous ballroom. When he hit the floor we were pressed against the stage following his every move. It was intense.

There are many other concerts I loved: Peter, Paul and Mary three times; the Four Tops at the Sahara Club, a black nightspot in Richmond; Dionne Warwick at Notre Dame; Ray Charles and the Righteous Brothers there too; Frank Sinatra at Carnegie Hall; Bette Midler, ELO, Styx, Elton John, the Grateful Dead at venues around the country. And classical concerts that still resonate: Georg Solti conducting the Chicago Symphony in a luminous Missa Solemnis, Leontyne Price singing the Verdi Requiem, Pavarotti in concert at DAR Constitution Hall and dozens of concerts that Ransom either conducted or played in – coming to mind right this minute, a breathtaking Mozart Requiem.

From the Beatles to Bach, from the Stones to Strauss from James Brown to Johannes Brahms – I’ve said it here before: I love music in almost all its varieties and forms and there’s nothing whatsoever as gratifying as a great live concert.

You changed my mind, Paul

I collect music. Always have. The first recording I remember owning was a 45 of Elvis singing Love Me Tender. To this day I still have over eight hundred 45s; there are hundreds of vinyl LPs downstairs and our CD collection numbers close to four thousand.

Being a collector sometimes means just that: collecting, not playing. So it was that I bought Paul McCartney’s Good Evening New York City almost three years ago (Dec 9, 2009) but only now watched it – it’s a 2-CD/1-DVD set. In truth I was a bit embarrassed that I owned it. I mean, Paul was the schlocky one, the master of pleasant sounding, shallow sweetness. The real talent had been John and the soul of the Beatles was George.

But, for whatever reason, I had ordered the McCartney set. Then I let it sit on my desk for all this time.

What a mistake that was! Over the last two nights I watched this amazing, two and-a-half hour, thirty-four song set and was simply blown away. From the opening Drive My Car to the closing Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band / The End, this was one amazing show. Paul’s band (Rusty Anderson, Brian Ray, Paul Wickens and Abe Laboriel Jr) was at the top of its game and it was clear they had spent hours honing their sound to match the original Beatles or Wings recordings. (Check this out as a good example).

Watching this concert is the closest thing to watching a Beatles concert that one can have – in some ways, it was better: at least you could hear the music! I can only imagine how exciting it must have been to be there in the flesh. (Note: the concerts took place July 17, 18 and 21, 2009 at Citi Field, inaugurating the New York Mets new home).

John and George’s spirits hovered over the stadium; perhaps the most poignant moments of the show were when Paul sang Something, Harrison's immortal classic from Abbey Road, with images of George projected on the huge screens behind the band; or A Day In The Life / Give Peace A Chance, evoking memories of the gentle pacifist, John Lennon.

For me though, equally emotional were Let It Be and Hey Jude -- I cried during both. Just as exciting were Jet, Got To Get You Into My Life, Let Me Roll It, Back In The USSR, I'm Down, Paperback Writer, Day Tripper, I Saw Her Standing There, Yesterday, Helter Skelter and Get Back. The kick-ass, OMG moment was this rendition of Live And Let Die with pyrotechnics and fireworks galore. It was intense.

This story started for me on August 15, 1966, at Washington Stadium, now known as RFK Stadium. That was the day I saw the Beatles, though to say I heard the Beatles would be a stretch. Paul McCartney’s dazzling performance in New York in 2009 brought back wonderful memories of that concert, of Ed Sullivan Sunday nights, of the summer of 1967 when Sgt. Pepper was released, of the wonderfully fun films A Hard Day’s Night and Help, of the brilliance of Abbey Road and the poignant sadness of the end, the Let It Be album and documentary.

The Rolling Stones may in fact be the "World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band" but I would argue that the Beatles were the most beloved. Thank you, Paul, for being such a diligent keeper of the flame. And forgive me for doubting you.

Apocalypse Dodged

From today's New York Times

So Mitt Romney remains Citizen Romney and the anti-women, anti-gay, anti-change Republican Party does not win the White House but instead licks its wounds and mumbles about 2016. It’s a good day in the neighborhood.

Here in Connecticut Chris Murphy will soon be Senator Murphy, defeating Linda McMahon, in spite of her spending another fifty million of her own dollars for a failed campaign – as she did two years ago. CT’s Congressional delegation will once again be solidly, totally, Democratic.

The news in Virginia is of course not as blue, but the state did go for Obama by 3% and elected Tim Kaine to the Senate by 5%. (The House races, not surprisingly, were won by Republicans eight to three.) Elizabeth Warren won in Massachusetts, where Obama led Romney 61% to 38% in Romney’s home state. Democrat Joe Donnelly took Richard Lugar’s longtime Republican seat in Indiana, beating Richard “conception by rape is God’s will” Mourdock, whose soul mate Todd “legitimate rape victims don’t get pregnant” Akin lost to Democrat Claire McCaskill in Missouri.

And, in the best news of the night, Wisconsin Representative Tammy Baldwin became the first openly gay candidate to win a Senate seat, defeating former Republican Gov. Tommy Thompson, and gay marriage initiatives won at least three out of four referendums. In Maine, by almost 7%, and in Maryland, by 4%, voters approved same-sex marriage; in Minnesota an amendment to define marriage as male/female was defeated; the results in Washington state are not yet known, but the pro-gay marriage side seems to be winning by perhaps 4%.

As I said, it was a great day in the neighborhood.

But eat, drink and be merry today, for tomorrow – or, in December, according to the Mayans – we all die. 

Sweetest thing I've seen all week

You Got Power?

The above has replaced “How are you?” as the greeting of choice these days, at least here in the New Haven area. While in the city itself only 4,100 customers are without power, in Milford it’s 12,000 (nearly half of UI’s customers); in Trumbull, 9,700 (70%) and in Woodbridge, where we live, 1,800, or 48%. UI is also reporting that in Orange, CT, 6,421 customers out of 6,203 are without power. They say 103.5% of their customers are without power.

One only hopes their power restoration ability is better than their math skills.

Metro North is now running trains into New York, but not from New Haven. Trains are originating in Stamford, about halfway to the city. Ransom’s plan is to drive to SUNY Purchase -- where he teaches conducting -- leave his car there and then catch a train into the city for tonight’s rehearsal – a rehearsal for an opera that may be canceled as singers and musicians find it impossible to get to work.

At home I keep buying ice and bringing water from work. The nights are very quiet and the novelty has long ago worn off. I like candles, but only to a point.

When I finish this post I will head over to the gym again for a shower; I am grateful for Yale’s generosity but it sure aint as easy as turning a lever in my own bathroom.

All of this is of course small stuff; plenty of people have it far worse.

One thing is perfectly clear though: the earth’s climate is changing. Three so called 100-year storms have come through CT in the past year. The idiots who still deny the facts and say that climate change is a hoax or a theory need to gather in convention and look over the data. I’d suggest they meet on the Atlantic City boardwalk.

Just down the road from Atlantic City