Heaven On Earth

When you face death, so close you can smell its breath, you realize profound truths. About the value of life. Small pleasures are actually bigger than small, rich opportunities abound, and life offers a platter of pleasures. 

In age we can cherish redolent memories of delightful experiences. I've been lucky to have many. Remembering them, the people I shared them with, and the joy I found balances the scale against decrepitude.

Some years ago my good friend Aimee took me on vacation to an idyllic spot: the Thousand Islands of St. Lawrence River (near the east end of Lake Ontario). The area, separating Canada from the U.S., contains 1,864 individual islands. A century ago it was the summer playground of wealthy New Yorkers, attracted to ineffable natural beauty.

Aimee and I took a ferry boat from Alexandria Bay to Singer Castle and Boldt Castle, locations now available to the hoi polloi. The June day was sunny, bright and dreamy. Cool zephyrs greeted us like friends on the boat-ride. The atmosphere -- and indeed entire day -- was sublime. 

I'll never forget the peace, calm and pleasure I felt that day. Health, eyesight and a caring friend were present, with not a hint of trauma waiting in the near future.

"Brockmire"

My favorite actor, Hank Azaria, has had a long career of amazing performances. All elevated by bright intelligence and startling accuracy. I first noticed Hank in "Quiz Show" (1994) where he transformed a tiny part into a pivotal part of the story.

Hank's greatest achievement, in my opinion, is "Brockmire" (2017+) based on a character Hank created. He plays a 50-year old baseball announcer who's flawed but brilliant, funny but destructive, and traditionally sexist. Most notable of all is how Hank nails the voice of the character.

In the show's four-season run, it was hilarious and deeply insightful. Plus, who doesn't love Amanda Peet? :)

Great art and artists are often underappreciated. Don't let that happen here. Go watch "Brockmire". Its messages are growing in importance, especially from the last season which imagines the dying future of baseball in the 2030s.

Happy Groundhog Day

Punxsutawney is a fun, quirky place.

First time I visited was by accident. I was riding home, alone, from North Dakota on my first motorcycle trip. This was back in the day when GPS didn't exist and I wasn't using a map (1999). I was just heading east toward New York. Passing through western PA on rural roads I spotted a large statue of a strange creature. Then another. Then a sign signaling my arrival in the Groundhog Capitol of the World. Surprise!

I returned ten years ago on my BMW touring motorcycle. Intentionally. I now had GPS. You can see the bike in one of these photos.

What will Phil say today? 

Johnny Cash

The music of Johnny Cash has soul. Authentic feeling. You sense the man has seen some shit. Life at its nadir and peak.

For my birthday last November I requested tickets to a "jukebox musical" of Johnny's songs. We attended the show last night at a theater in Northport. The musicians were talented, their performance was glorious. It was like sitting in front of a warm hearth to escape Winter's cold.

The occasion warranted breaking out one of my favorite shirts. I bought this beauty thirty years ago when visiting Boston. Returning to a city I'd spent three years in for law school (1979-1982) I enjoyed being there again. This time I had money in my pockets; as a student I was dirt-poor and frequently ate falafel from King David's food truck.

On this trip I walked down Boylston Street, Boston's upscale shopping Mecca. I spotted a boutique with a catchy name: "Rock 'n Roll Cowboy." I took a look inside. The store had chic clothes with motifs I'd never encountered before. I noticed this classic country-style shirt and fell in love. But... it was expensive. Obscenely so. 

After debating the voice of my immigrant-parents (in my head), I took a plunge and pulled out my wallet. In retrospect, that was the right choice. The shirt is made of high-quality material, is embroidered not printed, has real pearl buttons and appears brand-new after three decades of wear. When a thing can become your treasure for a lifetime, it deserves respect regardless of cost.

I hear the train a comin'

It's rolling round the bend

And I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when

I'm stuck in Folsom prison, and time keeps draggin' on

But that train keeps a rollin' on down to San Antone.

When I was just a baby my mama told me "Son, 

Always be a good boy, don't ever play with guns"

But I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die

When I hear that whistle blowing, I hang my head and cry.

I bet there's rich folks eating in a fancy dining car

They're probably drinkin' coffee and smoking big cigars

Well I know I had it coming, I know I can't be free

But those people keep a movin'

And that's what tortures me.

Well if they freed me from this prison

If that railroad train was mine

I bet I'd move it on a little farther down the line

Far from Folsom prison, that's where I want to stay

And I'd let that lonesome whistle blow my blues away.

You've Got Moxie!

I just finished a fascinating book about life in America a century ago. Back in the 1920s baseball was everyone's obsession, Babe Ruth became our first national celebrity, and mass communication (radio and print newspapers) spread news with astonishing speed. (The book, an award-winning best-seller, is "The Big Fella" by Jane Leavy [2018])

Primary sources quoted in the book illustrate how language evolves. Not just slang, like phrases I gleefully played with as a kid in the 1960s ("Right on, man!", "groovy"), but vocabulary spoken in ordinary conversation. Some words commonly deployed then have since been replaced by new ones.

Here's an example. Today we talk about "grit" -- that laudable quality some folks have to persevere through hardship. We admire the force of their character, their determination. Back in the 1920s, a popular word used for this was "moxie". A person who had moxie was strong, vigorous and capable of enduring anything. 

The word moxie itself is interesting: it originated in the 1870s as the (capitalized) commercial name of a "medicinal" elixir. (The beverage was actually just a carbonated energy drink with no medicinal value.) Widespread ads for "Moxie" later led "moxie" to evolve into a personal characteristic.

"Hey, it takes moxie to climb Coney Mountain!"

Word of the Day

Our language is full of marvelous words. I delight in obscure ones. We also frequently encounter common words whose meaning we don't know. For these, there's no excuse not to "look them up," especially when read on electronic devices.

One word I've seen dozens of times but didn't comprehend until yesterday is "winsome". What does it mean?

Winsome denotes something that is sweet, charming or attractive. Like a winsome smile or a winsome personality. Knowing this word super-charges your ability to bestow a flattering compliment. Don't you want to possess that power?

At The Reception

My friend Helen is exhibiting her artwork in Cold Spring Harbor. Tonight we attended an Artist Reception for the show.

The work (watercolors) is beautiful. Helen is patently talented and the subjects of her paintings are joyous. While at the reception we had several nice chats with Helen.

A bonus of the event was running into someone I knew 60 years ago and haven't seen since (Tom). Tom's father Tony worked with my father when they were both police officers in Lloyd Harbor. Our families socialized together at annual Police Department events, like summer beach parties and Christmas parties. I remember Tom and his brothers but haven't seen him in over a half-century. Catching up was fun. I learned he, too, used to ride motorcycles.

Here's a picture from one of those 1960s Christmas parties. Can you find me in it?