Category: This ‘n’ That

miscellanea

Up To The Challenge

Hats off and many thanks to Mr. Rifftides. I asked for the whole story about punishing high-school kids by making them listen to Sinatra records and Mr. R has delivered, posting it here on his blog.

At the end he wonders whether Sinatra might have known about this and what he might have said or felt. I know one or two folks who knew Ol’ Blue Eyes fairly well so I am going to ask. (Had this been a few years ago I might have persuaded Joe Williams to call Frank directly and ask him for me.) I probably won’t get much of a respose, but we’ll see. One never knows, do one?

Supposed News That’s Not Fit To Print (or Air)

I have been waiting to hear someone in the media say this:

The reappearance of the JonBenet Ramsey story on the media radar made my heart sink.

Thank you, Joe Carroll (San Francisco Chronicle). Every night my husband and I talk back to the news readers on telelvision…often we yell at the politicians and pundits too. Lately, we just shake our heads at all the JonBenet coverage. I guess the media must believe that a little soft porn in the guise of “breaking news” will raise the ratings. That alone is a shame. Add to that the fact that there are no real facts and certainly no real news in this current flurry of re-hash and you have the making of another journalism travesty. Here’s a graf from Carroll’s column:

Even before the story about the guy who didn’t kill JonBenet Ramsey broke, I had been thinking about people trusting the media, or rather not trusting the media. Of course, sensible people don’t trust politicians either, or large corporations, or advertising — one feature of modern life is how untrustworthy everything is. No wonder we’re crazy; we have no idea what the truth is, and we need at least an approximation of the truth in order to make intelligent decisions.

But how does anyone know to trust anyone else?

Read the whole column here

Music, War, Human Nature…

In response to my mention of the Army’s PsyOps division having used music as a weapon, Mr.Rifftides sent this message:

I remember that a few years ago there was quite a ruckus about the high school principal who punished his misbehaving inner-city students by making them listen to Frank Sinatra recordings. It may have been Chicago. If I turn up details, I’ll let you know.

I hope he does turn up the details; thats a story I’d like to hear.

In yesterday’s The New York Times there was an article (Harmony Across a Divide) by Alan Riding.

IT was an immensely appealing experiment, both in its idealism and in its simplicity: Let young Israeli and Arab musicians play together in an orchestra to show that communication and cooperation were possible between peoples who had long fought each other.

Conceived by Argentine-born Israeli conductor Daniel Barenboim and the Palestinian-American scholar Edward Said, the project began in 1999 as an annual event, and despite even the more recent outbreaks of violence, the orchestra is still performing.

Still, with the orchestra touring 13 cities in Spain, Belgium, France, Germany, Italy and Turkey, Mr. Barenboim believes that this latest crisis merely underlines the venture’s importance.

“From the beginning it took a lot of courage to participate in this project, but all the more so this year, while this war is going on, and the friends and relatives of some are being hurt by the friends and relatives of others.” Mr. Barenboim said in an interview the day after starting the tour with the first classical concert ever in Seville’s historic bullring. “In that sense this is a very small reply to the terrible horrors of war.”

I have begun to collect similar stories of music used in service of diplomacy and/or as a humanizing force. Colonel Gabriel once told me a story of taking a German town by force in 1944 as an infantryman, and returning years later as Commander of the US Air Force Band, capturing that same town with music. In 1944 he left with their flag, and later they gave him their key. Another story is that of the joint concert performed by our National Symphony and the Iraq National Symphony, described by The Lehrer Newshour as “an attempt at literal harmony out of the confusion and sometimes violent aftermath of the Iraq war.”

If anyone knows of any such stories, please share them with me.

Of A Certain Age

About a month or so ago, Just Muttering was talking about her friend’s annual “film festival” birthday celebration (Two Thumbs Up ). I had seen only two of this year’s five screenings (Being Julia and Mrs Hendersen Presents) and liked both very much. Not long ago, I saw another movie that fits in well with this list: Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont. I hadn’t heard of it, just found a local listing online, but went on the strength of it’s leading lady, Joan Plowright, and a description I don’t remember verbatim but the gist of which was that this was one of those movies the type of which seldom gets made anymore.

And all of this reminded me of an article about movie makers realizing that there is a viable “older” audience who craves mature entertainment. I believe this to be true of music as well, but when most of America’s radio stations are owned by a single conglomerate, one that owns and controls the major concert venues, I rather feel that we are tilting at windmills.

I haven’t blogged about movies since late last September when I mentioned Calendar Girls with Helen Mirren and Ladies In Lavender (two sisters befriend a mysterious foreigner who washes up on the beach of their 1930’s Cornish seaside village) starring Judi Dench and Maggie Smith. I tend to prefer English films and English actors. I have no use for movie stars/pretty people Julia Roberts et al, but America’s got some real actors too — Anthony Hopkins, Morgan Freeman, and I’ll even include pretty boy Leonardo DiCaprio who I must concede did a masterful acting job in Aviator.

So what’s playing for us old folks now? Nada much. I like Meryl Streep so I’ll probably go to see The Devil Wears Prada. John likes Meryl Streep too, but I’m betting he would probably prefer to see Miami Vice. John also likes Johnny Depp and was curious about the hype around Pirates of the Caribbean, so he stolled into the movie theater one day a week or so ago to see for himself. (No, he did not sit through the whole two and a half hours.) I suppose we could see An Inconvenient Truth, but I’m already a believer and I’d rather be entertained than depressed.

Any recommendations?

Catching Up

I’ve been hard pressed to keep up with my blog reading, but today I stopped in at Just Muttering and what did I find? ooh-la-la, well-wishes to dad. Thank you very much.

Just Muttering allows her readers to leave comments. I’ve been tempted to do the same, but if you saw the amount of garbage that this site receives despite the comment feature being turned off, you’d understand my reluctance. I do love to hear from readers and encourage you to send your comments to me via email. Anyway, a Just Muttering reader read my Soul Music quotations and wanted to recommend a link to the Sigmund, Carl and Alfred blog — thank you, Ligneus.

Why am I so behind schedule? Besides preparing for the launch of my ArtistShare site (coming very soon), and writing liner notes for a two-CD collection of Jim Hall tracks on Concord Records (it won’t be out until October 24th, but I’ll remind you about it then), I also completed a re-design of Nancy Wilson’s website. In addition to heralding the August 22 release of Turned To Blue, her new CD for MCG Jazz, the site includes a discography with a search engine that lets you find specific songs, and lots of photos and CD covers from throughout the years. I’ve got more recordings still to add, but I think it’s off to a good start.

While blog-hopping I see a lot of memes propagate across the world wide web. These memes are usually series of questions that one blogger answers and then tags another blogger to do likewise. The word meme rhymes with dream, but I have always thought of it as Me Me — you know, like the kids in class who raise their hands and call out “me, me” so they can tell everyone *their* answers.

Today I decided to look up the word’s proper meaning and derivation. It’s not in the old Webster’s New Riverside dictionary that sits on my desk, but it is in the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary — “an idea, behavior, style, or usage that spreads from person to person within a culture,” the derivation being mimesis, or imitation/mimicry.

So, a meme is not just a series of clever questions and answers, it has to be contagious

“Memes are contagious ideas” (memecentral)

which makes it sound like a living organism. And it has to be cultural,

“a replicator of cultural information that one mind transmits (verbally or by demonstration) to another mind.” (wikipedia)

making it both a virus of the mind and the building blocks of culture.

“meme: (pron. ‘meem’) A contagious idea that replicates like a virus, passed on from mind to mind. Memes function the same way genes and viruses do, propagating through communication networks and face-to-face contact between people. The root of the word “memetics,” a field of study which postulates that the meme is the basic unit of cultural evolution. Examples of memes include melodies, icons, fashion statements and phrases.” (memex.org)

That’s a lot of baggage for a word used to describe an innocuous series of questions, statements and/or lists such as these:

This last one is one of my favorites, not only because I am always on the market for new ways to procrastinate, but because it is a good writing exercise for clearing the cobwebs and getting the creative juices flowing.

Over at About Last Night you’ll find that TT and OGIC are champion web surfers as well as magnificent memers, responsible not only for bringing many of these to my attention, but also for introducing me to many other wonderful blogs. Thanks, guys.

Too Hot To Trot

For those of you have been following my horseback riding escapades, it’s been too hot to trot in recent weeks. An article on the front page of today’s Los Angeles Times has the California death toll at 130, higher than the deaths caused by the Northridge earthquake and fires combined. The effects of heat on multiple sclerosis are well documented and each MS-related publication is full of ads for these flack-jacket-like apparels with pockets in which you can insert ice-packs. I can’t imagine carrying around added weight of ice in this heat, but whatever works for those who need it is a good thing. Thankfully, I have air conditioning and, while surrounding neighborhoods have been hit with major power outages, my immediate vicinity has suffered nothing more than momentary interruptions. Of course such interruptions are supremely annoying for no sooner do I reset all the clocks and answering machine and re-boot my computer than another surge hits and I have to start all over again, but not worth complaining about in the face of others who are powerless for hours if not days on end. I have friends who have decamped to local movie theaters or the homes of friends and family.

So thankfully, my personal neural network has remained relatively cool. But such has not been the case at the data centers housing the servers on which my web sites reside. In addition to DevraDoWrite.com and DevraHall.com I also run Lushlife.com and a new site for Nancy Wilson that was to have launched already but has been set back by these power struggles. (More about Miss Nancy next week.) Status reports from my hosting service spoke of dead shorts, ram upgrades, over-taxed generators, core router upgrades, system disk problems, network cards gone bad, a broken Power Distribution Unit, and a filer crash causing a chain reaction heavily affecting other parts of the network and saturating network interfaces. That last one was on July 19th and nothing has been functioning properly since then…until now. Hope that I do not speak too soon; each problem report over these last ten days was followed by an “all fixed” report that was too good to be true. No, they weren’t telling tales, but the problems were cascading and no sooner was one thing fixed than another failed. It looks to be pretty stable now…I hope.

Enjoy your weekend — I know I will — and if I remain empowered, I will be back with you on Monday.

Soul Music

Music expresses that which can not be said and on which it is impossible to be silent. — Victor Hugo

Music has the power of producing a certain effect on the moral character of the soul, and if it has the power to do this, it is clear that the young must be directed to music and must be educated in it. — Aristotle

Music is an outburst of the soul. — Frederick Deluis

Music is the vernacular of the human soul. — Geoffrey Latham

Education in music is most soverign, because more than anything else, rhythm and harmony find their way to the inmost soul and take strongest hold upon it, bringing with them and imparting grace, if one is rightly trained. — Plato

Mathematics is music for the mind; music is matematics for the soul. — Anon

Ten Good Years

A few weeks ago I mentioned a few of the things that helped me during my cancer battle. (You can read that post here.) I had planned to write something in commemoration of my ten year anniversary, but had not yet decided what date to commemorate—the date of diagnosis, the onslaught of simultaneous chemo and radiation treatments, the end of treatment, the post-treatment evaluation conjoined with another biopsy that supported a tentative pronouncement of “cured,” the date I felt “recovered,” or the date five years later when the doctors feel confident enough to use the word “cured” without caveats.

What I neglected to mention in that earlier post were some of the people who I saw and/or spoke to during that time. In addition to John, and my best friends, Phil, Susan and Tison, who stuck by my, chauffeured me, visited me, took me to doctor appointments and handled myriad other details for me, a few highlights stay with me always. Joe Williams singing Here’s To Life over the telephone, a phone call from Sonny Rollins (he told me that I wasn’t going to die), and hospital visits from Nancy Wilson and Lynn & Gerry Wiggins.

Then there was the time I was paroled from the hospital to be treated as an out-patient, discharged with a 24/7 iv chemo drip (they call it a pic line) with daily visits to the radiation center and to the lab for blood work. It was mid-June and Marian McPartland was in town to record. I drove myself to the O’Henry Sound Studios in Burbank and spent the day bathed in the sounds of Marian’s trio (Andy Simpkins on bass, Harold Jones on drums) plus a 20-piece string orchestra conducted by Alan Broadbent. It was a beautiful session with lush arrangements, a more perfect medicine for the mind and soul I cannot imagine. I spent a lot of time in the 1970s hanging out with Marian and listening to her play almost nightly at The Cookery and Bemelman’s Bar, so listening to tunes like Ambiance and A Delicate Balance took me back in time.

Then came the Playboy Jazz Festival, Joe was performing and I wasn’t going to miss it. Despite Sonny’s reassurances, I thought it might be the last time I’d ever see Joe. So John took me to the Festival in my big-brimmed hat (radiation treatments and sunshine are not a good mix) and chemo drip taped down to my side.

Outpatient treatment is a great idea, but I was getting too weak to handle it on my own. That’s when another girlfriend gave me a tremendous gift – she risked her job by taking a 2-week unpaid vacation and used up her frequent flyer miles to come in from Hawaii to stay with me. This friend had lost her husband to cancer so it must have been more than difficult for her, but she did not hesitate.

So what should I commemorate? The date of diagnosis has already slipped by me. The first biopsy was on May 15th and within a week I was in the hospital, had a tracheostomy, and “treatment” had begun. I could wait until July 29th to post this, that’s the day the treatment ended, but that’s also when the doctors tell you that they don’t know yet if the chemicals and radiation worked or not. Come back in six weeks, they said. I went to New York. It was mid-September when a third biopsy led the NY docs to say the cancer was completely gone, but that’s when they tell you they want to monitor your progress every month for the next year, every six months for two years after that, and then once a year; when five years have elapsed cancer-free then they might use the word “cured.”

By now, the dates are no longer important; maybe they never were. The moral of this story is that people and music can make life better.

—

ps. Yes, Ten Good Years is the title of a song that Luther Henderson and Marty Charnin wrote for Nancy Wilson’s show at the Coconut Grove in 1964.

Jail or Jerry’s Kids

A warrant has been issued for my arrest! I have been charged with having a big heart and will be apprehended on August 17th. As one of the “Most Wanted” I am going to be “Locked Up” to benefit the Muscular Dystrophy Association. You can help by contributing to my bail. They may even let me out on good behavior. My bail has been set at $1800, just enough to send three children to MDA summer camp. They tell me that I have an opportunity for immediate release for good behavior if bail is raised prior to the court date.

Don’t get confused. I have Multiple Sclerosis, not Muscular Dystrophy, but I have never felt right raising money for my own causes. And quite honestly, there are so many causes that I am usually immune to these solicitations. But these people got my attention with their novel approach (I think they are actually planning to send a car to “pick me up and take me away” on August 18th), and it is for children who would otherwise be denied a wonderful summer camp experience, an experience I loved but took for granted as a privileged and healthy youngster, so I agreed to participate. I can accept cash, check, or credit card donations (contact me via email if you want to send the donation c/o me), or you can donate online by going to this special page on the MDA website that is encrypted and protected by Verisign.

I promise that fundraising will not be a regular feature at DevraDoWrite, but it would be great if just this once you’d like to help out some kids who really could use a little joy in their lives.

Missing In Action Again

Sorry to have gone missing. I could plead pity for my infected jaw and my week on antibiotics, true and painful, but not so much so as to stop me from reading and writing, much of which this past week had to do with my ongoing class reunion — we now have a yahoo group and the conversations are many and varied, ranging from “do you remember so-and-so?” to how to save the world.

One of the topics I raised was actually a question my dad recently asked me: why aren’t today’s young people protesting against the war and the government? I mentioned that not having any children I feel rather far removed from “today’s young people,” but then wondered in writing, “and why aren’t we [protesting]? Are we too old, too complacent, too disillusioned….?” (As youngsters we were extremely political and outspoken. Not only did we attend marches in Washington and rallys in Central Park, we staged ourown mini-marches outside of FAO Schwartz protesting the sale of war toys. “GI Joe Must Go!”)

In response to my question, one classmate, an educator, reported having “escorted and travelled with groups of college-aged folk to several of the anti-war demos in the last few years. The demonstrations are FULL of young people; but there are way, way too few people, period. They are also full of people of our parents’ generation — but sorely lacking in folk of our own.” We ‘talked’ about our physical limitations, family obligations, and responsibilities that preclude the risk of jail for civil disobedience. Many of us sign petitions and discuss politics via the Internet, but as one classmate opined “I think we’re wasting our time getting distracted by the internet, when we should be on the streets. The kids are waiting for us to lead them there, and to join them there. They are waiting for us to organize the demonstrations, while we’re waiting for them to do so.”

I was glad to hear that there is more activity than is on my radar screen. I think the media downplays the protests today, at least I don’t seem to be as aware of them. Or maybe it’s just that they seem much smaller. Or maybe more activity on the East Coast? I’ve seen the occasional Los Angeles news report of some protesters, usually in Westwood (near UCLA), but they show only a handful of people with placards and drivers honking in support as they pass by. [Of course this is not counting the two recent immigration rallys and marches, but that was predominantly the Latino community mobilizing themselves…which is also a good thing] There are small protests against all kinds of things (movies, for example), and the opposers somehow find it easy to dismiss — “oh, it’s just them, not important, no big deal.” Also, those big protests back then were news while today they seem passe, a relic of an idea from the past, an idea that did not work…

I tell myself that there are many things I would do if I were single…part truth, part excuse. My husband, even though he is not about to join any picket line, says that when the middle class really starts hurting, then there will be a true revolution and we will all take to the streets. He figures that by then he won’t be here. Quite honestly, I find myself hoping that I’m not either. (I know that’s selfish, and easier for me to say because I have no children.)

That being said, I am not sure that protests in the street are any more effective than Internet petitions. Votes used to equate to power, but if They are controlling the elections (whether by lying or lobbying, rigging results, or just employing scare tactics), then even our votes don’t count. It’s a power and money game, and those who don’t have either can’t play.

—

Correction: A friend wrote in: “freudian slip?!?: “I mentioned that having any children I feel rather far removed from “today’s young people,” but then wondered in writing, “and why aren’t we?” Hmmm, I reply. Grandma always said “haste makes waste.” In a hurry to post, I failed to edit. The above has been corrected acordingly.