Icarus P. Anybody

Play it!--Guitar Solos, pt. I

2011-12-26T16:55:00.000-08:00

People who know me know that the guitar is my number one hobby. I've been playing in earnest for over 25 years, and as I always say, I should be a lot better. I don't currently play any better than I did on the leads of this song back in 2003.

I mean, I do ok; and I have a style which incorporates a variation of hybrid picking that gives me my own sound. But besides a failure to practice consistently, I have always had the serious weakness of not learning songs. I have always been impressed by people who can learn songs, and famous guitar solos. While I would always want to inject my own "thing" into any song, I do wish that I could play some trademark guitar parts "note for note". Honestly, I should just dedicate a summer (I am a teacher, and I get long vacations) to doing this. Style differences don't matter: after all, Eddie Van Halen famously claims to have learned Eric Clapton's solos this way, and there is no hint of Slowhand in Mr. 5150's playing.

Thinking about this made me want to come up with a list of solos that I would like to learn. They are presented below, in no particular order. Some would not be all that tricky, others might take a lifetime. But if I could play these solos, I would really consider myself an adept guitarist. To other musicians out there, what are the solos you want to learn?

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Ok, let's start out with the white whale. This is probably unattainable, even if I live to be 106 years old. This duet, "Mediterranean Sunset", between fusion master Al DiMeola and flamenco genius Paco DeLucia can be found on the album Friday Night In San Francisco (which also features the legendary John McLaughlin). I bought this my first year in college and literally wore out the vinyl listening to it. One of my best friends was a very talented heavy metal guitarist, who used to play me the latest from all of the big haired, spandex clad wielders of Floyd Rose equipped shred machines. I would play this piece to shut him up.

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At the opposite end of the spectrum is one of my all-time favorite simple solos. I actually figured this one out while writing this post! Anyway, it is a great love song by Paul McCartney, "Maybe I'm Amazed", off his first solo album. The guitar solo is by Henry McCullough and it is nearly perfect. To me, a great guitar solo needs to be hummable, and have a melody that either complements or transcends the song in which it is encased. This is one of those solos.

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Another solo that has always totally transfixed me is "25 or 6 to 4" by Chicago, off their second album. The solo is played by Terry Kath, a seriously underrated guitarist of the late 1960's and early 1970's, who died tragically in a Russian Roulette accident at the age of 27. Jimi Hendrix famously declared Kath one of the best players of the time. It is a sad cosmic co-incidence that they both died at 27. Even weirder is that Kath's widow later married guitar playing actor Kiefer Sutherland who starred in A Few Good Men with Kevin Bacon, making Kath's "Bacon Number" 2 (mine is 3). Kath's fills throughout the song seem to emphasize the urgency implied by Peter Cetera's vocals and the horn arrangement. The solo is a masterpiece of wah-wah infused energy and passion. This is one of those solos that is a song unto itself. I know there are numerous YouTube pages out there teaching this solo, but I feel like I need to teach it to myself. But I will probably break down and use them to get me started. And I don't know what I will need to do to capture the emotional energy of the piece.

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"Rock Around The Clock" is one of the earliest songs I can remember noticing the guitar on (it was the theme of the tv show "Happy Days" , a staple of my youth). This early rock n' roll song (it is more of a Texas swing/rockabilly hybrid to me) legendarily caused riots among youths in England in the 1950's. The solo (which is almost bebop in its speed running through the song's chord changes) was recorded by Danny Cedrone, who died shortly after recording this at the age of 33, due to falling down a staircase. The speed and precision of this solo takes my breath away every time I hear it. Cedrone was replaced in the Comets (and in the video below) by Fran Beecher, who I used to see shopping at a local guitar shop when I was a teenager.

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Sticking with the rockabilly theme, I have always been impressed by players who pluck the strings with a combination of pick and fingers (as I do). The following video comes from Eric Clapton's 2010 Crossroads guitar festival, and features several legendary guitarists. The song is "Mystery Train", made popular by Elvis Presley. The vocals are sung by Vince Gill, who also picks a breathtaking second solo. The third solo is played by British guitar legend Albert Lee. But the fills and the first solo come from the amazing James Burton. Burton made his claim to fame as a teenager playing on Ricky Nelson's songs (and on tv). He was one of the first players to substitute thin banjo strings for the then heavy guitar strings, which enabled him to bend the strings like a steel guitar player. He later directed Elvis's band (which is where Gill's Elvis reference comes in) and also played with Emmylou Harris' Hot Band. I love the "chicken pickin" on display from all the players, where they pluck the strings in a rapid, staccato style. The players also expertly mix open strings with fretted notes. I would feel like a complete guitarist if I could master the neck of the instrument like these men can.

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One of the early giants of rock/rockabilly was Gene Vincent. Along with his group, the Blue Caps, he made stirring, stunning music that was danceable but also had a dangerous edge. Vincent had a tough life. While in the Navy he suffered grievous injuries in a motorcycle accident. In 1960, while on tour in Britain, Vincent was a passenger in car alongside teen guitar hero Eddie "Summertime Blues" Cochran. Vincent's leg was injured again, and Cochran perished. Four years later, again on tour in England, Vincent stopped at the Air Force hospital where my father was stationed and asked to see a doctor--Gene wanted his leg amputated. My father turned him away, only to be surprised that the British nurses were all agog at the rock legend limping away. Vincent died of an ulcer in 1971 at the age of 36.

The guitar on this song is played by the legendary Cliff Gallup. Gallup played on a number of Vincent's early hit songs before giving up the rock life to settle down in Virginia and play in his church. Rock legend Jeff Beck (who was turned onto guitar on Vincent's tour of England) has made the study of Gallup's playing his lifelong pursuit, eventually recording a tribute album, and acquiring one of Cliff's guitars.

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Ok, one more hybrid picker. Probably my all-time favorite musician, if I had to pick, would be British singer/songwriter/guitarist Richard Thompson. While I could go on and on about Thompson (I have over 28 hours of his music on my computer), I will save that for another blog post. In addition to his deeply sad and moving songs, he can also write brilliantly funny tunes, like the one here. "Tear Stained Letter", which contains lyrics like "My head was beating like a song by the Clash/ Writing checks that my body couldn't cash" or "Well I like coffee and I like tea, but I just don't like this fiddle dee dee/ Makes me nervous, gives me the hives/ Waiting for a kiss from a bunch of fives". He can also blast epic guitar solos like nobody else. The extended solo in this version from the 1980's is a great example. Honestly, (an alternate version of) this song is a great "shut up" tune to play to shredders who have a narrow view of the instrument. This solo makes me begin to understand the way that saxophonists in the 1940's must have felt about Charlie Parker. This is some serious blowing!

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Finally, for me it is impossible to talk about great guitar solos without mentioning Steely Dan. Not only were their hits staples of Album Oriented Rock stations when I was growing up in the 1970's and 1980's, but their subtly coded (and not so subtly coded) messages of drugs and illicit sex were quite scandalous when I would figure them out. Steely Dan featured a revolving cast of legendary studio musicians, which helped make each song sound different. When I was a teenager I got guitar lessons from a local guitar genius who had studied in LA at the Guitar Institute of Technology. He was deeply into jazz fusion, and turned me on to the deeper coolness of these songs.

"My Old School", from the album "Countdown to Ecstasy" is a fanciful story about the group's time at Bard College. Jeff "Skunk" Baxter (now a Defense Dept. contractor) played the lead on this number, featuring great use of pick harmonics.

Elliott Randall did the amazing lead guitar on "Reelin' In The Years", from 1972's "Can't Buy A Thrill" record. Randall was a session player who was also the first guitarist in the debut Broadway run of "Jesus Christ Superstar". The speed and energy of this solo, along with the call and response style make this easy to hum, and the devil to play! As I've said before, a great guitar solo is like a song in itself, and this solo could definitely stand on its own.

Finally, "Bodhisattva" (also from "Countdown to Ecstasy") and is a warp speed blues featuring solos from Baxter and Denny Dias. I never get tired of listening to this song.

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Well, there they are. I have more, but I am running out of room. And my all-time favorite guitar solo ever (David Grissom on Joe Ely's "Letter to LA" off the "Live At Liberty Lunch" record) is impossible to find online in a version I can share with you. Please write in the comments about songs with your favorite solos! And keep on pickin'!

Mark Lazarus

2011-12-23T17:17:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I lay awake at night thinking about how I became the person I am. We are all the sum of our experiences, and all of the people we meet in our lives play a role in shaping us. Having said that, however, some people stand out above all the rest. It is undeniable that my parents influenced me heavily, especially for my first 18 years . As a young boy they taught me morals, shaped my outlook on the world, and are largely responsible for the goals that I have set in my life.

For the last two decades it is my wife, Courtney, who has played the biggest role in shaping my personality and character. I have lived with her since I was 22, and I consider her to be the lodestar of my life. Her goodness and generosity of spirit have been an inspiration, and give me a lot to live up to.

But to quote Yoda, "there is another". My uncle, Mark Lazarus, has shaped my life in so many ways that, when I tried to count them all, I was amazed. Just a brief sampling of the things that I do because of him will show the impact he has had on me. Without Mark, I would not:

watch sports
play sports
research sports history and stats
play guitar
love classic rock music
love Star Trek

there are more, but that should do for going on with. Mark entered my life when I was very young, and even before marrying my Aunt Lisa he was a fixture (they were college sweethearts who got married in 1977, as soon as Lisa graduated school). For many years we saw Lisa and Mark nearly every week, even after they moved to Philadelphia, and Mark began an arduous commute to Manhattan every day.

He had season tickets in section 525 behind home plate at Veterans Stadium from the time the place opened until it closed in 2003. Mark attended virtually every home game every year, and he made a point of bringing me to several games each season as I got older. Mark keeps score at a ballgame using his own, highly detailed system (one that I have tried to teach to others in my turn). But as much as he hated to miss a single play, he never quibbled about getting up to buy me pizza, hot dogs, and sodas, or to take me to the rest room. All the while he made a point of teaching me fine points about the game, such as the communication between middle infielders, the positioning of the players, and pitch selection.

Mark took me to my first game when I was four, in what was literally a formative moment for me. Neither my mother nor my father really cared much for sports, but Mark could tell that I did, and encouraged it all the time. And since he was my hero, it didn't take much encouragement for me to follow along. Mark kindly took me to out-of-town parks, including a visit to now-vanished fields such as Baltimore's Memorial Stadium in 1979, Yankee Stadium in 1980, Shea Stadium for the sign day double header in 1982 and Tiger Stadium for my 17th birthday in 1987. He also took me on overnight trips to Cooperstown during the 1981 strike and to Boston's Fenway Park in 1983, shortly before the birth of his son. At Boston that weekend, Hall-of-Famer Carl Yastrzemski was having the final good series of his career, including a 5-RBI game on Saturday. As Yaz came to the plate in the fifth, Mark said that if the legend hit a homer, he would name his child "Yaz Lazarus". Well, #8 hit one to the deepest part of Fenway, missing a homer off the wall of the triangle, and settling for a double. And that is why my cousin is named Dan.

In 2003, Mark invited me to the final two games at Veterans Stadium. I have written about this experience elsewhere, but it is safe to say that it was one of the most thrilling and emotional weekends (sports-wise) I've ever experienced. I am glad that we were able to get some photos to commemorate the experience.

On long drives to ballgames, Mark would often have music playing. In fact, Mark was the first person I knew with a Sony Walkman ("Take It Easy" by the Eagles was the first song I heard on headphones). He was a fount of information about progressive rock acts like Yes and Chicago, and of classic rock like Elton John, Billy Joel and most significantly, the Beatles. I remember being impressed that both Mark AND Lisa had first pressings of the White Album (with the embossed serial number on the front). I borrowed dozens of his old LP's and they became the cornerstone of my musical appreciation.

As a good child of the late 1960's, Mark had tried to learn how to play guitar, and he gladly loaned me his old instrument when I expressed interest in it in 8th grade. I played that guitar (with only four strings) for a year before graduating to Lisa's much nicer classical guitar (and lessons) and then to my first real guitar. And music and guitar are cornerstones of my life to this day.

Mark is one of the smartest people I've ever met, and he often turned his intellect to baseball. He joined the Society for American Baseball Research (SABR), early on, and was published in their journal The National Pastime , as well as in Bill James' Baseball Analyst during the 1980's. I loved watching Mark do his research (which in that pre-database, pre-computer age, meant reading old issues of The Sporting News and combing the Baseball Encyclopedia), and he could tell. Mark bought me a book called The Illustrated Book of Baseball Folklore when I was eight. He inscribed it:

"To Ethan: The best nephew in the world--This is yours to read and enjoy and learn about baseball. Love Uncle Mark"

Needless to say, I read the book over and over (including once more this past summer). When Mark's article about HIS boyhood hero, slugger Dick Allen was published in a compilation book by SABR, Mark gave me a copy autographed by himself and Allen. Mark's inscription read:

"Ethan--To a true baseball historian-- Happy Reading!---Uncle Mark"

By then my path was set. Mark had given me a membership to SABR when I was 15, and I have maintained it for 27 years. My first project was to comb the Baseball Encyclopeida for every player born on August 30th (my cousin's birthday). I went on to write my senior thesis in college, as well as my Master's thesis on baseball related topics. My favorite moment, however, was when SABR published an article of mine in The National Pastime and I was able to return to favor and give Mark a copy of the work that he had most certainly inspired.

When I was young, Mark played in basketball and softball leagues after work. For reasons not wholly clear to me, the games were played closer to where I lived in Warminster, PA, than they were to his home. Anyway, I used to love watching Mark get dressed for his games. There was a ritualistic aspect to his preparations that hinted at a "right way" to do things, and to respect the game.

Once, when I was 12, I went to one of Mark's softball games. His team was short players, and faced a forfeit. I told Mark that I could play, and he trusted me enough to run it past the coach. The coach, umpire and other team were reluctant to agree, but they relented and I played right field. I also reached on a walk and a fielder's choice. After the game, Mark took me to dinner and told me how proud he was when I took the first pitch, stepped out of the box, and got back in for the next pitch. He said I "looked like a real ballplayer", which meant the world to me. For years I used to imagine telling this story to Baseball Digest as "The Game I'll Never Forget".

Mark had played baseball for the Philadelphia College of Textiles & Science (now Philadelphia University), and regaled me of tales of his hippie teammates, running the bases with long flowing locks coming out of their caps. Years later, when I helped found the Hampshire College Baseball Collective, I took similar pride in my team of unconventional-looking men (and women) who respected the game and tried to play it right.

My family is not very big, and Mark has always been a key part of it. My father was sick for most of my life, and Mark definitely bridged the gap between uncle/older brother and father figure. And after my father died, Mark has been the last "older man" left in my life. I remember when my father had his lung removed when I was in college, Mark had to be out of town on business. Mark called the hospital for an update, telling the Intensive Care nurse that he was asking about his "brother". For my whole life my father was estranged from his actual brother, and when he heard about this act of Mark's, my father was moved deeply. I'll never forget this. And while Mark is "only" a relative by marriage, I can't imagine my life without him. Even as I have moved into my 40's, I still look up to him.

When I think about how eagerly I soaked up everything Mark had to give, whether it was baseball (real or Strat-o-Matic), music, or what have you, I sometimes get embarrassed. It must have felt strange for Mark to see the hero-worship--I know it would for me.

But he never made me feel odd or uncomfortable. I never knew the Mark Lazarus who was "the only white would-be Black Panther" at a "Free Bobby Seale" rally. I never knew the 18-year old who made the trip to Chicago to stalk Dick Allen during his 1972 MVP season, while wearing his "Dick Allen Superstar" t-shirt. And the Mark Lazarus who for two decades was on the cutting edge of performance fabric technology and marketing was only a rumor to me. But the Mark Lazarus I have known, the Mark Lazarus who was the best man at my wedding, who taught me a lot about patience, love and devotion, the person who can send me text messages about the Phillies and Eagles while suffering from a particularly awful cancer will always be a huge part of who I am.

Happy birthday, Uncle Mark!

Playlist Posts #1: Songs About The Radio

2011-09-13T16:54:00.000-07:00

This is the first in a series of posts that include songs that I would put in a themed playlist. Consider this an "annotated playlist". Feel free to include your suggestions in the comments!

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Not long ago I was teaching my high school course on American popular culture post-WWII. The class mainly focuses on popular music, with digressions about television, computers and other technological advances. One day, while talking about radio, it came out that pretty much NONE of the students listen to terrestrial radio anymore. They either listen to satellite stations or they listen to streaming music websites or they download music to their iPods. This was shocking to me. When I was their age, I listened to the radio every day, and even now I stream my favorite radio station (WXPN out of the University of Pennsylvania) on my computer on a daily basis.

The following songs (in no particular order) are songs about the radio that evoke my memories of listening to the radio all day long when I was young. I definitely owe my encyclopedic knowledge of "classic rock" to my years listening to WIOQ, WMMR and WYSP (which sadly just transitioned to the dreaded "sports talk" format). And the two years when I listed to WRTI (which in the 1980's was America's most powerful jazz station, watts wise) gave me a very thorough familiarity with jazz. While my listening chops are not sharp anymore, there was a time when I could recognize drummers, bassists, horn players and others without identification. Why? Obsessive radio listening!

Al Stewart-- Song on the Radio: I've always loved Scottish folk-rocker Al Stewart. His songs take an unusual interest in history, which appeals to me as a history teacher. In fact, the essay I wrote to get into college compared his song about the Siege of Leningrad (Roads to Moscow) with a photograph from WWII. Anyway, this song with the catchy refrain "you're on my mind like a song on the radio" has always struck me as very "true" somehow. I guess today's generation will miss out on the experience of a station (especially a Top 40 station) playing popular songs over and over again. I mean, they can CHOOSE to repeat songs whenever they want, but the random nature of a "song on the radio" seems subtly different to me.

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Marshall Crenshaw-- Radio Girl: This song is the first of a couple that focus on the listener's relationship with the deejay. Besides having a beautiful, almost Hawaiian melody featuring slide guitar genius Sonny Landreth, the lyrics focus on the singer's imaginary relationship with a woman disc jockey. As the song says:

Well I don't know what she looks like

I've never seen her face before.

But I hear her on my radio

From 1 AM til 4.

She's playing all my favorite records

She's telling me the latest news

I take her into my bed each night

And she rocks away my blues

'Cause she's my girl,

My radio girl

I had TWO radio girls. When I was in high school, circa 1986-1988, I had a total crush on WYSP DJ Debbi Calton that only barely eclipsed my affection for Helen Leicht (then of WIOQ, I listen to her now on WXPN). Debbi had a great love of rock and roll, a voice that thrilled me, and she did the 10 PM to 2 AM shift, so I listened to her as I fell asleep. Helen hosted the weekend show "Breakfast with the Beatles", which helped school me on the Fab Four. One of the things that was especially significant about these crushes was that (pre WWW) it was impossible to know what they looked like. And while both are attractive women, neither looks at all like my mental image. Oh well....

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Dar Williams--Are You Out There: When I attended Hampshire College in the late 80's and early 90's I managed to broaden my horizons by gluing myself to WRSI out of Greenfield, Ma., one of the first "alternative" rock stations. I would stay up every night until they signed off at 2 AM to make sure that I didn't miss anything. Two of the disc jockeys I especially liked were Johnny Memphis and Jimmy Olsen. It turns out that young folk singer (and resident of nearby Northampton) was listening too. This song has a slightly more ethereal vibe. The music is more disturbing, and echoes the words that seem to perfectly capture (to me) the feeling that I had as an awkward, isolated teenager who only cared about music. To quote the song:

Perhaps I am a miscreation 
No one knows the truth there is no future here 
And you're the DJ speaks to my insomnia 
And laughs at all I have to fear 
Laughs at all I have to fear 
You always play the madmen poets 
Vinyl vision grungy bands 
You never know who's still awake 
You never know who understands and  

Are you out there, can you hear this? 
Jimmy Olson, Johnny Memphis, 
I was out here listening all the time 
And though the static walls surround me 
You were out there and you found me 
I was out here listening all the time  

Last night we drank in parking lots 
And why do we drink?
I guess we do it cause 
And when I turned your station on  
You sounded more familiar than that party was 
You were more familiar than that party 
It's the first time I stayed up all night 
It's getting light I hear the birds 
I'm driving home on empty streets 
I think I put my shirt on backwards  

Are you out there, can you hear this  
Jimmy Olson , Johnny Memphis 
I was out here listening all the time 
And though the static walls surround me  
You were out there and you found me 
I was out here listening all the time  

I know that there were lots of times when "I turned your station on just so I'd be understood ", and I hope that kids today can find someone (not just a music database) to trust--preferably in their real life, but if not, a radio host would do. It did for me.

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Rush-- Spirit of Radio: This song by the mighty Canadian power trio Rush (off their 1980 release "Permanent Waves") is another one that seems to synopsize how radio can come to mean so much to listeners. Besides having an undeniably rocking syncopated rhthym, the lyrics are very perceptive:

Begin the day with a friendly voice,
A companion unobtrusive
Plays that song that's so elusive
And the magic music makes your morning mood.

Off on your way, hit the open road,
There is magic at your fingers
For the spirit ever lingers,
Undemanding contact in your happy solitude.

Anyone who has listened to the radio on a long car drive, or had a bad morning made tolerable thanks to hearing your favorite song can relate to this song.

Another noteworthy part of this song is the cautionary aspect of Neil Peart's lyric. He seems to worry that the commercial aspects of the music business may put radio in danger. I absolutely love the line:

One likes to believe in the freedom of music,
But glittering prizes and endless compromises
Shatter the illusion of integrity.

and not just because of the emphatic "Yeah" singer Geddy Lee adds at the end.

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Bruce Springsteen-- Radio Nowhere: The first single off Springsteen's 2009 release "Magic", this song seems to respond to the previous one by Rush. The singer is driving through the night, and there is nothing worth listening to on the dial. The song is one of his all-time best rockers, in my opinion which is suitable considering lyrics like:

I want a thousand guitars
I want pounding drums
I want a million different voices speaking in tongues

This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
Is there anybody alive out there?

I was driving through the misty rain
Searchin' for a mystery train
Boppin' through the wild blue
Tryin' to make a connection to you

This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere, is there anybody alive out there?
Is there anybody alive out there?

I just want to hear some rhythm
I just want to hear some rhythm
I just want to hear some rhythm
I just want to hear some rhythm

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Queen--Radio Gaga: Decades before Bruce's lament, Queen's Roger Taylor wrote this tribute to radio. Fearing that it would fade away in the face of the superficially more attractive television, Taylor's ode to radio is more focused on radio shows from the pre-tv era, but still resonates with me.

I'd sit alone and watch your light
My only friend through teenage nights
And everything I had to know
I heard it on my radio

The performance of this song at Live Aid was breathtaking to me, as over 100,000 people at London's Wembley Stadium, in an ironic tribute to the power of television, not radio, mimiced the behavior of the actors in the song's video by clapping their hands over their heads during the refrain.

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R.E.M.--Radio Song: This last song, from Athens, Georgia's 1980's alt-rockers R.E.M came from their 1991 album "Out of Time". It daringly combined the new genre of rap, featuring the rapper KRS-ONE (whose acronymic name stands for "Knowledge Reigns Supreme Over Nearly Everyone"). The song is funny, and would seem to criticize people who listen to the radio too much:

Check it out
What are you saying
What are you playing
Who are you obeying
Day out day in?
Baby, baby, baby, baby
That stuff is driving me crazy
DJs communicate to the masses
Sex and violent classes
Now our children grow up prisoners
All their lives radio listeners

Supposedly songwriter Michael Stipe was trying to make fun of people's relationship with radio. While this song is the most dated sounding of all the ones on this list, I thought it was a humorous way to end this playlist, and to remember not to take things so seriously!

9/11, 10 Years On

2011-09-01T18:14:00.000-07:00

I have nothing meaningful to add to the plethora of efforts to commemorate (or exploit) the tenth anniversary of the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. I was not in the vicinity of New York, Washington or Shanksville, and none of my family or friends were harmed in the attacks. But like all Americans (and people all over the world) who were aware of the events of the day, I have not been able to forget what happened. And considering the way that our country has changed since then, I think it is important to look back at that "happening ten years time ago" and, perhaps, see how things could have been different.

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In 2001 I was a faculty member at Groton School, about 40 miles west of Boston. As I walked from my on-campus house toward Chapel that Tuesday morning, I was struck by the absolutely perfect beauty of the sky. People who know me are aware that when it comes to the scenery surrounding me, I am usually barely sentient. But the purity of the cloudless blue sky, and the coolness of the air, have stayed with me all these years. Little did I know that planes leaving Boston's Logan Airport had already been hijacked, and were being diverted through that perfect sky toward their targets.

During the first period of the day I left my office (I was the Academic Technology Manager, which gave me the chance to work with teachers to incorporate technology into their curricula) and went to ask a question of our network administrator. While we were talking, the head of the math department came into the server room and urged that we turn the tv to CNN. "A plane has crashed into the World Trade Center", he said. Since his son is an airline pilot, it makes sense that he was particularly attuned to the topic of plane crashes (his sister had called him to deliver the message). As we were watching, in shock and dumbfounded surprise, we watched the second plane crash into tower 2. Obviously this has been reshown on television and in movies countless times since then, but I will never forget my first sighting of it. Watching the fire from the first plane, we naturally assumed that the crash had been an accident, but the second plane crash made all of us jump to the truth of the matter--the crashes were the result of terrorism.

Groton has a lot of students from New York, and I was never prouder of the school than I was that day. An emergency school assembly was convened, New York area students were approached by advisors, deans, chaplain and headmaster, and we in the technology department tried to find ways to get messages to families in New York, which was difficult as phone lines were jammed. In the days that followed, as the world tried to come to terms with what had occurred, I remember having conversations with colleagues, family and students in which we all recognized that things would never be the same. I remember feeling like I finally knew what my grandparents had felt on December 7, 1941 and what my parents had felt on November 22, 1963; and wishing that I still didn't.

I was on dorm duty the next week, and the girls were diligently studying and completing their homework, when I decided to try to put my thoughts down. Re-reading it now (it is on my website), I can't help but notice the debt I owed to Bob Cringely, and his extremely prescient writing the previous month that "I wonder whether the end of the Cold War may have accelerated this law enforcement trend as intelligence agencies try to stay in business by re-targeting their efforts on terrorism, the new bogeyman." I also can't help but notice the debt (stylistically, if not in content) owed to my rereading of the political essays of Gore Vidal. Most importantly, I was encouraged to follow the lead of my friend Sascha Fruedenheim, whose invaluable blog often clarifies difficult ideas for me.

This week I was teaching history at Wyoming Seminary, where I have worked since 2003. And I realized that my 15-year old sophomores were about the same age 10 years ago as I was when Richard Nixon resigned, days before my fourth birthday. Growing up I always heard about "Watergate", and it was clear that post-Watergate America (my America) was different from what came before, but I never knew how. In fact, the desire to solve this mystery is one of the reasons I became a historian. So for anyone who reads this, and especially for younger people, I hope it helps show that there was a "road not taken" in the fall of 2001. At that time I urged travel on the road not taken, and, sadly, that has made no difference at all.

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The following is my original post from 2001. Some of the references are dated (such as reminders about the 2000 Presidential election), and some have since turned out to be wrong (such as the reference to Moammar Gaddafi's daughter). But I still think the world would be a better place if we could all "work to arrive at peaceful solutions based on laws, empathy and compassion". America will never forget 9/11. But here's hoping that the next 10 years will enable our country to move away from a perpetual fear and constant war to a more sustainable existence.

Reflections on the Terrorism of September 11th, 2001

by Ethan M. Lewis

Groton, Massachusetts

September 17, 2001

On this, the birthday of the United States Constitution, I find myself reflecting a great deal on the recent terrorism which so calamitously befell America. While the human tragedy is, obviously, the most poignant aspect of this incident, I have been spending most of my time thinking about the choices that our Nation now faces.

To me, the biggest threat these acts of terrorism pose to the United States lay in the dilemma of choosing an appropriate response. It seems to me that such a response could fall along a wide continuum, but that essentially it boils down to two options: revenge, or redress. America has always prided itself as a nation governed by the rule of law. During the past hundred years or so, this has been honored more in the breach than in fact, but it is a conceit that pleases most Americans to believe. Recent Presidents have responded to acts of terrorism with violent retribution (the attack on Tripoli that killed Gaddafi’s daughter [Reagan], the missile attacks on Afghanistan [Clinton], and let’s not forget Bush pere’s war against Iraq, which has yet to abate after 10 years, and has kept the United States on a permanent war footing, almost invisibly to most of the citizens of what we like to think of as our republic.

Although the Constitution clearly gives to the Congress the sole right to declare war, Congress has equally clearly relinquished this right over the last 50 years. President Truman sent us into Korea (another front in a never ceasing war) on the pretext of supporting the UN (a concept that grows more laughable the longer we go without paying our dues to that noble organization). We fought (and lost) a major war in Vietnam on the basis of the Gulf of Tonkin resolution, which ultimately led to the War Powers Act (which should be unnecessary, but in the end is just pointless, since it is never observed by President or Congress). We invaded the island of Grenada to kill some Cuban engineers, invaded Panama to illegally arrest its head of state (our former favorite drug dealer), and have maintained the war in Iraq on the strength of a resolution (that barely passed the Senate) authorizing the first President Bush to take any action he deemed necessary in protecting our oil vendors.

On September 11 , Mr. Bush’s son stated that an act of war had been committed against America. Obviously forgetting that only nations can commit acts of war (and ignoring the fact that no nation is claiming responsibility for this attack) Bush promised, and has continued to promise, to fight this war wherever it leads us, for however long it takes, just as soon as they can find someone to smack. Resident Bush (I will omit the "P" until he can Persuade at least a Plurality of the Public that he should be the President) seems eager to respond to this act of extraordinary violence in a similarly violent way.

This predilection for violence is almost surprising, considering that the Resident told us, before the Iowa caucus, that the most influential person in his life was "the Lord, Jesus Christ". Bush professes to devout Christianity, but seems unwilling to turn the other cheek, as the Bible urges us. After Pan Am flight 103 was exploded in Scotland, the countries whose citizens were killed worked assiduously to find the people responsible for planting the bombs, strove to extradite them, and tried them in a Scottish court. This is civilized. This shows the primacy of law in our society. On Tuesday, Bush promised to "hunt down" the "folks responsible" for the attacks. Obviously, the people directly responsible are dead, killed in the airplane crashes. Who is left to find? If there are ringleaders still at large, it seems to me that the right thing for a peace-loving, law abiding country to do is find them, and try them for conspiracy to commit murder (and the lesser charges of hijacking, piracy, etc.). Instead, Bush and the Congress have committed America to a long term course of "war" against person or persons unknown. This weekend, Congress passed a joint resolution granting the Resident the right to take any action he felt appropriate to get some revenge. They also passed a resolution granting $40 billion to address the terrorism. While the Office of Management and Budget needs to spell out what they want the money for before they get it, only half is statutorily required to go to relief and reconstruction. Where will the other $20 billion go?

Probably to the erosion of our civil liberties. Much of the money will go to buy mysterious boxes like the "Carnivore" which the FBI wants to put in the office of every Internet Service Provider to eavesdrop on Internet transmissions; or to other means of harassing people. The so called "intelligence" services will probably also gain more resources to increase surveillance on Americans. It is inevitable that domestic travel will be subject to new restrictions and difficulties as a result of the hijackings, and already people who appear to be of Middle Eastern origin, or who worship Allah instead of Jesus have been subject to persecution and it’s slightly more benign twin, "profiling". At his most Fordian, Mr. Bush has promised to "whip terrorism" now. But how is this to be done? How does a society with open borders, paperless domestic travel, and a free press stop an invisible enemy?

And, the most serious question, though it will not be asked by our unelected leaders (by which I refer to the corporate media, as well as Mr. Bush) is, why do we have enemies? On Tuesday, Mr. Bush said, "freedom was attacked", by the terrorists. Such a rhetorical device does not attempt to deal honestly with the fact that America and its bullying foreign policy is hated by the greater part of the world’s people. America isn’t hated because it is free; it is hated because it is the most prominent rogue state in the world. The "sanctions" we inflict on Iraq have been attributed to the deaths of over one million Iraqi children in the past decade. Mr. Bush has threatened Afghanistan for harboring the Bin Laden terrorists; but America is the largest backer of the State of Israel, whose brutal subjugation of the native population of its territory has been censured by the world. (Many are unaware that the United States’ permanent veto has saved Israel numerous times from serious UN sanctions). Americans claim to honor the rule of law, but Mr. Bush is single-handedly reneging on international treaties, our country hasn’t paid it’s dues (over a billion dollars) to the United Nations, and we have backed out of the international war crimes agreement, because the Pentagon doesn’t want to see its future Lt. Calley’s on trial in the Hague.

What is to be done? I wish that the leaders of America would act in keeping with the values that they claim motivate the country. I wish that instead of abrogating treaties (and using the Supreme Court to steal elections) they would work to add strength to a World Court that could mete out appropriate sanctions to international lawbreakers. I wish that the self-professed Christians who run our country would respond to acts of violence not with more violence, but with love. Most of all, I wish that Americans would see this abhorrent act not as a random act of hate by fanatics, but as a response to aggressive acts undertaken by our country. This can be a hard perspective to take, but I think it is necessary. In 1991, I was in Berlin, Germany staying with friends on the night that the allied bombing of Baghdad started. My hostess was very upset (like many Europeans, she was against the war for oil, and like most Germans, she knew enough history to reject the facile comparison of Hussein to Hitler). I came in for the night, and saw her watching television. When I asked what was happening, she said "You’re bombing Iraq". My initial reaction was to deny any complicity, after all, I was against the war, too. But I realized that as an American, the world held us collectively responsible.

Americans should try to pay more attention to the deeds that are carried out in their name, and participate in the political process that results in the decisions that so enrage our neighbors. To my way of thinking, nothing justifies violence, but it is important that we begin to see these acts of terrorism as reactions to our foreign policy, not random acts by lunatics who are enraged by "freedom". Most of all, I wish that my fellow citizens would see that violent reactions to violence do not solve problems, but merely beget more violence. Making "war" on terrorism will not make airliners or skyscrapers safer. For everyone's safety, we should work to arrive at peaceful solutions based on laws, empathy and compassion.

Everything I Needed To Know I Learned From Pro Wrestling (Pt. 2--Cage Matches)

2011-08-21T11:46:00.000-07:00

As I've already noted in this space, I have been a fan of professional wrestling for over thirty years. One of the things I appreciate about wrestling is the storyline aspect of a good match. When things are done right, two grapplers will battle over and over again, sometimes exchanging victories, until there is a final showdown. This showdown (known as the "blow-off" in wrestling vernacular) is often timed to take place at a major event; which in the case of large national promotions like the WWE, would be a Pay Per View (PPV) event.

Of course, it isn't always cut and dried. Many times the rivalry is between a good guy (a "babyface") and a bad guy (a "heel"). In these cases, you can never expect the heel to play by the rules. Chances are, at some point in the build up he will have won by cheating, perhaps using one of the following methods:

using a foreign object, like a chair
getting assistance from a partner, a manager, or a valet
distracting the referee so that he misses an obvious violation of the rules

Regardless of how it happens, if enough tension has built up between the two wrestlers, the blow-off needs to be something that guarantees a final victory for one of the contestants. For decades, the best way to ensure this is to have the match take place "inside a steel cage". In a cage match, the wrestling ring is enclosed in a cage, and the victory can only be had by pinfall, submission or escaping the cage. In many cases the referee is actually OUTSIDE the cage, so inside the walls, anything goes.

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Recently the Sassy Librarian and I got a treadmill for our house. I have come to enjoy using it in conjunction with Netflix on my iPad. I just set up a video to stream, and the miles go by in a snap. Today I traversed my 4+ miles while watching WWE: The Greatest Cage Matches of All Time. I hadn't previously watched any of the WWE sets on Netflix, but I was quite impressed with this one. It contained a half dozen matches covering the mid-1970's through 2009 (the actual DVD set has many more matches, but this is 2 hours of fun for free). I was worried that I wouldn't be able to get into the matches, since I wasn't party to the build up of the rivalries, but I was quite wrong. Hall of Fame announcer Jim Ross provided so much plot exposition that I quickly caught on to the excitement. Two matches stood out in particular:

Lex Luger v. Ric Flair (1990) for the WCW Heavyweight Championship
The Rock v. Triple H (1999) for the WWF World Title

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In the first match, the challenger Lex Luger came down to the ring first, followed by WCW champ Ric Flair. Parenthetically, I was on an airplane with Flair the previous year, and it was amazing to see him maintain his persona in the airport and during the flight. He was "stylin' and profilin'" with the flight attendants--it was a sight to see!

For this match, Flair was accompanied by his valet, "Woman". Woman later went on to marry wrestler Chris Benoit, who tragically murdered her and their son before taking his own life. Before the match went on, the referee frisked both wrestlers, looking for foreign objects. Luger demanded that the ref check Woman, which caused Flair to erupt in anger. But when a blade was found in Woman's glove, it proved to have been a wise move.

The cage used in this match was not like the one pictured above--it also had a roof. There was no way out of this cage--a final victory by pinfall or submission was the only way to win. As the match began, Ross told us that Luger had only just got out of the hospital, where a knee infection had kept him for the past two weeks. The announcers wondered whether this would restrict his legendary strength, but when Luger slammed Flair twice with military presses, it seemed that his knee was fine. This was important, of course, because Flair's most famous move, the "figure four leg lock" was known to target weak knees.

Luger dominated the match early on, with Flair showing his craven cowardice (like all heels) by trying vainly to escape the steel structure. During one of these attempts, Luger slammed his head repeatedly ("like a tennis ball" as we were told) into the cage, busting Flair's head open, and making him wear the crimson mask. Eventually Flair turned the tide while working over Luger's knee, illegally using the ropes for leverage while the ref's back was turned. Then suddenly all Hell broke loose! Flair's posse, the Four Horsemen ran down to the ring and tried to get into the cage. And they succeeded! As the cage rose, they ran into the ring to attack Luger. Then Luger's fellow "Dude With Attitude", Sting (in real life, business partners in a well known bodybuilding gym in Atlanta) came down with the late "El Gigante" to make the save. Flair was disqualified, but you can't lose a title by DQ, so he was able to leave with the ring, while making a frightening spectacle (something like the one above) in the post match interview.

What made this match so cool, of course was the swerve. We had been conditioned to believe that the cage was impregnable, and that a final verdict would have to come (and, of course, that justice would be served with a Flair loss), but it didn't happen. Despite this match being over 20 years old, from a promotion that doesn't exist anymore, I was totally gripped by this match. The wrestlers (with the help of the announcers and referee) told a great story.

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The second match took place in the WWF (now WWE, after complaints from the World Wildlife Fund), during a PPV from Manchester, England in 1999. This match pitted two "young" (according to JR) superstars against each other, the emerging face hero "The Rock", versus the villianous Triple H. HHH was affiliated at the time with his real-life girlfriend Chyna, a very muscular female bodybuilder who now does X-rated movies. HHH's name comes from his initials, which stand for "Hunter Hearst Helmsley". Back in the '90's this was supposed to symbolize his wealth (like Leona Helmsley). What is ironic about this is that in 2003 he married Stephanie McMahon, whose father owns the WWE. This marriage was for real, unlike the storyline marriage they had in the 90's. Now in 2011, HHH is in senior management of the company, and even campaigned heavily for his mother-in-law when she ran for the Senate. During this match, the announcers went back and forth between calling him Triple H and "Helmsley". Nowadays, while some wrestlers call him "Hunter", the other two H's are forgotten.

Anyway, back to the match. It was a back and forth affair for quite a long time, with several false-finishes where each man NEARLY, but not quite, escaped over the top of the cage. At one point, HHH had his head and arms out the door, with The Rock hanging on to his feet. While the door was open, HHH "accidentally" punched the referee, Earl Hebner, knocking him unconscious. While the ref lay prone, The Rock managed to escape, earning him the victory. But the official did not see it! When Rocky realized what had happened, he and HHH took the match outside the ring, beating each other into the crowd and over to the announcer's table. Then The Rock grabbed a microphone, and treated us all to a little "Attitude Era" dialogue:

ROCK: Now The Rock obviously had the match won, but that jabroni, rooty-toot candy-ass obviously didn't see The Rock win. So before The Rock whips your monkey-ass some more, in front of all of his fans, The People's Champ's got a little gift, compliments of The Rock and the fans of Birmingham...

FANS: (cheer)

HHH: (rolls around barely conscious)

ROCK: (picks up a chair, and beats HHH over the head)

JIM ROSS: Oh my God! Great God Almighty! The Rock just hit HHH with a steel chair!

ROCK: (putting on announcer's headphones conveniently waiting for him): You're damn right that's what The Rock did. That's exactly what The Rock does best: lays the smack down on his candy ass! Look at his ass! There's the blood---the blood of HHH. It's not the People's blood; it's monkey piss! Monkey piss is oozing out of his head! Come here jabroni! Have some more you sonofabitch (slamming HHH into the tv monitor). What do you think of that?

And then, after setting HHH ("deeply lacerated") onto the announce table, The Rock climbed onto the ring apron and leaped onto HHH, shattering the table.

At this point, The Rock (to loud "Rocky Rocky") chants dragged his opponent back into the ring, while Hebner slowly regained his consciousness. Then, just as The Rock had nearly climbed out of the cage, out of the back came England's own British Bulldog, Davey Boy Smith! The Bulldog was a heel at this time, and he began fighting with The Rock. And then Shane McMahon (now HHH's real life brother-in-law) came down and assaulted the Bulldog, until he was viciously bodyslammed onto the concrete floor. Then the British Bulldog went into the ring to keep fighting the Rock, while Chyna came down to help. At one point she slammed the door into The Rock's face so hard that the whole cage shuddered--pretty sick! While The Rock was being assaulted by the Bulldog, HHH escaped the cage over the top.

Then, to cap things off, while a bloody HHH was celebrating with Chyna, a pissed-off looking Vince McMahon (who at that time was a regular character on the show, as well as real-life boss) stalked to the ring, and padlocked the door while The Rock and the Bulldog were inside! At that point The Rock proceeded to beat Davey Boy senseless, ending the match with his trademark raised eyebrow.

What made this match so engaging was that it was kind of like two matches in one. As Jim Ross noted, "The Rock had this match won twice", but to no avail. We were treated to two (at least) cage matches AND the brawl outside. And while The Rock and his fans got satisfaction from his pummeling HHH, the heel still left with the gold. While contemporary viewers were ensured further storyline development for the coming weeks, this match is great on its own. With excitement, brutality and two wrestlers fully exploiting their characters, this was a lot of fun to watch.

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This video was very enjoyable (the multi-DVD set might be better) to watch, and you'll get to see some fine matches. One of the great things about professional wrestling is that the more often you watch, the more conditioned you are to certain tropes of dialogue, movements and match outcomes. But skillful wrestlers will always find a way to surprise viewers and confound their expectations. That's why I'll never stop watching.

I, Robot?

2011-08-11T12:28:00.000-07:00

I've always loved science fiction. Full disclosure time here: I just spent hours trying to make my iPad look like a PADD from Star Trek! Anyway, as a young person I spent a lot of time watching Star Trek and Jetsons reruns. To the point that I found it very depressing that we didn't have rocket jet packs by the year 2000. Another feature of sci- fi that always interested me was the idea of a future where robots would be our servants and humans would be freed from the mundane aspects of life.

Of course, everyone shared this belief. I mean, Ringo even wanted Gort to become the fifth Beatle, if the album cover at left tells us anything. And who can blame him? Everyone wants a piece of famous robots. To people growing up in the 1970's, the most compelling characters of the Star Wars movies were R2D2 and C3P0. You can buy a replica R2 unit for yourself from high-end retailers, and women can even purchase the most un-sexy bathing suits of all time, if they so choose.

But let's be honest: to be able to delegate mundane tasks to a robot just makes so much sense. This, of course, is why modern industrial robots (and there are over 8 million of them) have increased manufacturing efficiency (at the cost of jobs for real humans, of course).

I've been particularly interested in this since my first visit to the Subaru plant in Lafayette, Indiana in the early '90's. First of all, if you have the chance to go to a car factory, you really should. They are massive places, and you can actually watch a car go from random pieces of metal to driving out the door. And besides the overhead conveyor belts carrying automobile carcasses through the facility, there are lots of really cool robots doing painting, assembly, welding and other tasks. Ever since, I wondered when smaller robots would come to our aid around the home.

And then, a couple of years later, they proliferated! The first one I heard of was the robotic swimming pool cleaner. These little chaps walk along the bottom of your pool (under water) and clean it for you. Then came the robot vacuum cleaner, which can be programmed to sweep your floors, and even moves around your furniture. Considering that vacuuming has always been one of my household chores, this seems very intriguing. Plus, it could give the cats some amusement...

Since the Sassy Librarian and I bought to our dream house, I have come to love the process of mowing the lawn--something I had never done before we moved here. I love riding around on my lawn tractor and I look forward all week to getting some "seat time". But what if---I mean, you don't think--oh my! They make robot lawnmowers now, too! They wouldn't work on our property (too much land) but for a typical suburban house, this would be unbelievably awesome. I'm sure it won't be long before a professional sports team fires their head groundskeeper and replaces him with one of these babies. I can hear the announcers talking now: "The umpires just consulted with the Robot Lawnmower to see what the rain forecast is." The future is right around the corner.

So just as I had begun to think that there were very few jobs left that were safe from robots, I almost drove my car off the road when I saw a billboard promoting the local hospital's new service: Robotic Hysterectomies. At first I scoffed, in my typical Phil Donahue feminist style, "I bet you won't find them doing robot vasectomies." But apparently the hospital uses robots for lots of other procedures, too, including some that only apply to men. The surgeries actually employ a human doctor to operate the robot, but still, it just sounds so unpleasant. I mean, if I was going to go have a major organ removed, I would prefer that a person was responsible, not a machine. And what if you got a robot with problems, like Marvin, the Paranoid Android? I would hate to have my robot surgeon whining "brain the size of a planet, and all they ask me to do is remove this guy's enlarged prostate." And who do you sue when they screw up? I mean, medical malpractice is as close as most of us will ever come to winning the lottery. And I bet Marvin has a brilliant team of lawyers, too...

Pulling the Plug on Cable TV

2011-08-04T14:43:00.000-07:00

In the fall of 1981, just as I was beginning 6th grade, my father surprised us by hooking the house up for cable tv. I think that we were only the second house on our block to get cable, and it was wonderful. Suddenly we didn't have to get up and adjust the large, steerable antenna on the rooftop, and we had access to channels (does anyone remember PRISM?)
that showed Phillies games, professional wrestling and feature films--without commercials! Then there were other channels, such as MTV (which had begun airing the previous August), which gave me access to music videos, concert films, and interviews with musicians.

It is definitely true that for me (and many of my friends), cable provided the same shared cultural references that were supplied to previous generations by literature, theatre or the Bible. It isn't going to far to say that the person I became was highly influenced by the large amounts of television I watched on cable in the 1980's. And since then I have always had cable--in college dorms, in summer housing, in numerous rented apartments, through thick and thin I always paid for cable television.

But over the past twelve months or more, I have begun to question my cable purchase. Since we moved to our dream house two years ago, the Sassy Librarian and I have been customers of Comcast (we get high speed internet from them, as well as tv). The picture has been good, but the price is rather high--to be able to get Comcast SportsNet in HD, we have to buy no less than three different tiers of service, paying over $85 just for the tv part of the bill. Over the years our tv watching has become more refined, to the point where pretty much all that we ever have on is sports and professional wrestling. Lately it has been harder and harder for me to justify paying so much money to watch Phillies games and Monday Night Raw. So I tried an experiment.

After doing some research at AntennaWeb.org, I became convinced that with an indoor tv antenna I could probably get some channels in HD (I can definitely do it with a roof antenna, but we aren't prepared to install one at this time). I went to the local BuyMore, and picked up a reasonably priced amplified antenna, and was pleased to see that I can get about a dozen channels, with super reception (including ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox, CW, WB, ION and 3 PBS channels)! And the major networks are all in beautiful High Definition!

So I called Comcast first thing Monday morning and cancelled the tv coverage. Initially I had a bad case of television withdrawal, but a few days later, I have to say that I feel pretty good! A major reason is that it isn't as hard as I had feared to find the stuff I want to watch. Within a day of the tv show, the WWE posts their Raw and Smackdown shows on YouTube in HD. I can watch those shows on my computer, or my iPad, or (by plugging an HDMI cable to the iPad) on my actual television set. On the down side I have to wait for the clips to load, but on the upside there are no commercials and I don't have to watch matches that don't interest me. I simply read the summary of RAW and Smackdown on the Lords of Pain website, and look at the sections that seem like they'll be compelling.

For watching Phillies games, I have a slight dilemma. Even though we live 130 miles from Philadelphia, we are still technically in their blackout zone (also the blackout zone for both New York teams and the Pittsburgh Pirates). This means that even if we purchased MLB.TV, we couldn't watch live web telecasts of games for the Phillies, Pirates, Mets or Yankees. This has been the gating factor keeping me from dropping cable for quite some time.

But lately I've begun to listen to the Phillies radio broadcast using MLB At Bat (we get terrible radio reception at the house), and I realize that I like listening to the games on the radio. While former Phillie Gary "Sarge" Matthews provides excellent color coverage on tv, he's only on for the middle three innings. Otherwise, the play by play duties are handled by the very bland and boring Tom McCarthy and color is done by Chris Wheeler. Wheeler has been with the Phils my whole life, and while he is a great fan and has a great memory for old players, his style on the mic is not felicitous. On the other hand, the Phils radio duo of Scott Franzke and Larry Anderson is quite good--they have a wonderful rapport with each other, and they don't let their boring stories get in the way of the game, like McCarthy does. Listening on the radio, I find that I can go an entire game without saying "God, what a bad announcer"--which hasn't happened since I moved away from Don Orsillo and Jerry Remy's Red Sox games in 2003.

This week I've listened to the Phils on the "radio" (actually my iPad), and it has been a fun experience. Besides better announcing, I also found that it was easier to read while listening on the radio than watching on tv. Also, instead of being chained to the television, I was able to consume the game in my office, on my porch watching the sunset, in bed, and on the treadmill doing a brisk two miles. I even signed up for a one month trial of MLB.TV. Last night we watched the "archived" version of yesterday's day game from Colorado (the games are available to watch 90 minutes after the final pitch). It was pretty cool!

I'm sure that the adjustment will continue to take time, but this first week has been much easier than I expected. A quick perusal of the NFL schedule shows me that the Iggles should be on a channel that I get in HD 15 of 16 games, so I shouldn't miss much there, though I did always like watching Comcast's post game show starring "V-Heb" (Vaughn Hebron), "R-Diddy" (Ray Didinger) and "The Gov" (Ed Rendell).

It seems that this concept of dropping cable tv is growing in popularity. Maybe it's the terrible economy, or the "57 channels and nothing on" phenomenon, but I definitely feel good about having made this decision (and saving over $800 per year sounds pretty good right now). At least so far, Comcast seems to be doing ok, so I guess you could call this one Win-Win-Win.

Old Movie Stars

2011-07-15T09:37:00.000-07:00

I had a small realization the other day that blew my mind. The Sassy Librarian and I were watching one of our favorite movies, "On The Town", a 1949 Gene Kelly-Stanley Donen musical about three naive sailors given 24 hours shore leave in postwar New York City. They don't have much time to see the sights (and find some girls) but they manage to do all of that and more, along with great songs and genuinely funny slapstick humor. One of the sailors ("Chip") is played by Frank Sinatra, who in the course of the movie falls in love with a vivacious lady taxi driver ("Brunhilde Esterhazy") played by the late Betty Garrett.

It occurred to me that when I think of Betty Garrett, I don't think of her as the singing, dancing star of
'40's and '50's musicals, or as the longtime wife of blacklisted actor Larry Parks;

instead I think of her from the 1970's sitcoms she acted in when I was a kid. I don't think of "Hildy" from on the town, as much as I think of Laverne and Shirley's landlady Edna Babish. This makes a certain amount of sense. After all, they say that "first impressions are lasting impressions" and I was an avid viewer of tv and movies when I was young. But I realize that people of, say, my parents' generation, would think of Betty Garrett as she was when she was young.

Honestly, my image of Frank Sinatra is similarly confused. To me growing up, Sinatra was an old, bloated former star who had a suspect relationship with Nancy Reagan and made a noteworthy guest appearance on Magnum, P.I. But, of course, when Ol' Blue Eyes guested on Magnum in 1987, it was the last of 61 acting credits he racked, up, not to mention being one of the most famous and iconic singers of the WWII era. Clearly, my grandparents would think of Sinatra as he looked when THEY were young, not as he did at the end of his life.

So, now that I'm getting old, it makes me think about stars of my youth. For instance, when I was growing up in the 1980's Madonna was a huge star. She also came out with a new look in every video for her songs, and continually pushed the limits of decency and sexiness.

When I think of Madonna, I automatically think of her from her mid-1980's heyday. But Madonna has continued her career, to the point now where she has recorded in four different decades, along with writing books, acting and being a celebrity (especially in Britain, where they love to call her "Madge", to her lasting displeasure). Do kids today think of her as she was, or as a muscle-bound old lady? Or just as Lourdes' mom?

Thought provoking, no? How's this? What will the children of today's kids think of when they see this 21st century star?

Courtney's First Phillies Game--History Was Made

2011-07-09T18:48:00.000-07:00

On Friday, July 8, 2011, the Sassy Librarian and I went to Citizen's Bank Park for her first ever Phillies game. Courtney has become a devoted and passionate Phillies fan (after 18 years with me, it was only a matter of time!) and we were thrilled to be able to go to the game tonight.

Especially when it was a showdown between the first place Phils and the red-hot 'Lanta Braves, who came into the game in second place, 2.5 games back. We were even more excited to learn that Cy Young personified, Roy Halladay, would be toeing the slab for the Fighting Phils.

Nothing could dampen our spirits. Not even three inches of rain that fell, flooding area roadways and adding 2 hours to our 130 mile trip to the park. Not even the soaking wet denim of our jeans (and in my case, my sodden socks). Not even the two rain delays that pushed the start time from 7:05 to 8:59 pm. Despite the rain, the field looked beautiful, as did Courtney, in her stylish new Phillies cap.

The game was a nailbiter, with Braves scoring first, the Phillies answering, and then the process repeating itself. Halladay gave a gutty performance, and despite two wild pitches and a passed ball, was still very good. The went to extra innings, and by the bottom of the 10th, Courtney couldn't take any more--she had to go to the ladies' room! I left my seat with her, and watched the rest of the action from the concourse. Ryan Howard was robbed of a double by a diving catch, but then Raul Ibanez sent us all home happy with a resounding solo shot walk-off homerun to right. As soon as the ball landed in the seats I turned my back to the field, to see Courtney dashing out of the rest room with a huge smile on her face. They have the radio broadcast playing in the concourses, so she had heard everything. There is no way around it, Courtney going to the bathroom is a good luck charm!

In addition to a thrilling win, we also saw history. Phillies journeyman reliever Juan Perez got the win, pitching a scoreless 10th inning. More than that, he pitched an immaculate inning (three strikeouts on a total of 9 pitches). This has only happened 43 times in all of major league history, and the last time it happened in extra innings was 1923! It goes to show you, you never know what you'll see when you go to a ballgame.

My Ethan Lewis problem

2011-07-06T13:29:00.000-07:00

I have a guilty secret. I am an ego-surfer. "Ego-surfers" periodically type their names into major search engines to see what comes up. According to Wikipedia, this term has been around since 1995, which is approximately how long I've been doing this for, back when I would get different results on Lycos (now powered by Bing), AltaVista (ditto), Yahoo! (same story) and other search engines that no longer really exist. Why do I do this? Well, there are a few reasons, but mainly they revolve around my unquenchable need to know what strangers are saying about me. Also, my name is not that common, which makes it easier to search for. According to HowManyofMe.com, there are only 49 people named "Ethan Lewis" (besides yours truly) in the country. I don't know if this is totally accurate, but I think it is safe to say that there are fewer "Ethan Lewis"-es than there are "Richard Brown"-s, for instance.

On the other hand, in a disturbing trend, "Ethan" is becoming a much more popular name. When I was a kid, I never knew any other Ethans. My mother gave me my name because her hero, John Wayne, had named his son Ethan, and "if it's good enough for the Duke, it's good enough for me". I met my first Ethan at Downtown Sounds in Northampton, Massachusetts in 1991. He was working there, and when one of his colleagues walked by and said "Ethan", we both turned and said "yes?" Interestingly, I was his first Ethan as well. But that's not a big surprise, since according to the Social Security Administration, Ethan was the 494th most popular boy's name in 1970, the year of my birth. Now, however, it is the 2nd most popular, in both 2009 and 2010--I better get ready for some verbal whiplash.

Another thing that affects my ego-surfing is that I want to be the top result on Google when searching for "Ethan Lewis", but I don't want to do any work to get there. As you probably know, part of what makes a search result higher on Google is how many other pages link to that page. I've had my own domain (www.ethanlewis.org) for over a decade now, but I have never made a concerted effort to "optimize" the site to trick Google into making me #1. If I get there, I want to earn it! This is somewhat analogous to when my father used to try to pass people on the highway using nothing but the cruise control. He said that he was willing the car to pass the other one, no human intervention necessary. Try it sometime, it's fun!

Getting back on topic, the Bing search engine has been out (actually since the second week of Bing), I HAVE been the top "Ethan Lewis" on that search engine. But Bing is less easy to use, because of my reflexive reliance on Google (due partly to using their Chrome web browser, and mostly due to force of habit). Sometimes to streamline searches I use Bing-vs-Google.com, which is pretty cool.

As you can see if you clicked the previous link, my bête noire is an economics professor at Dartmouth named Ethan G. Lewis. For years, Ethan G. Lewis has been number one on Google, and I am number three or four (the top places belonged to "Big G", as I like to think of him). Lately I've been picking up the pace, but I still lag behind Big G. "Big G" seems like a nice enough chap; I've read some of his papers, and considering that I've been following him since his college days, I feel like I know him. And while he and I are not Facebook friends, it seems that we have a number of things (besides our first and last names) in common. So, while I would never wish him ill, and I am glad that he continues to find success in his professional life, I do sort of hope that "Big G" will go on sabbatical soon, giving me a chance to overtake him on Google. Wait a second! Google is often referred to as "Big G". Could this be why they've ranked Ethan G. higher than Ethan me? Sounds like a conspiracy to me...

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Update: My friend, über-blogger Sascha Freudenheim (the #1 Sascha Freudenheim on Google) has some thoughts about this post at his site: www.sascha.com. Check it out!

"No Really, I Need It For Work"

2011-07-02T19:54:00.000-07:00

You have no idea how many times I've uttered those words in regards to my latest computer acquisition. It comes up a lot, because I've been a user (more likely) or owner (less likely) of a LOT of different computers over the past 30 years. Inspired by a retrospective on all the guitar gear I've owned in my life, the following little trip through memory lane will cover some of the computers I've had my mitts on, and was inspired by my recent acquisition of an Apple iPad 2--which was paid for by my employer, and I need it for work!

My first exposure to computers came from watching reruns of the original Star Trek in the early 1970's. The show resonated greatly with me, and even though it was impossible to tell how the computers really worked, it seemed like common sense to me that people could/should use computers to answer any and all questions.

Unfortunately, the voice activated computers with colorful toggle switches were only science fiction when I got my first computer in 1982. My father was in the midst of compiling a book listing every piece of software available for the Apple II, MS-DOS and CP/M operating systems, and he decided that I should learn how to use a computer. His computer at the time was a powerful CP/M machine called an Eagle II. This powerhouse machine sported a 4 MHz processor and 64KB of memory. Considering that my father was using it on a daily basis to write and layout his book, I needed something more appropriate for a young beginner. So, one day when I was in 6th grade, my father came home with a Radio Shack Color Computer.

While my machine didn't come with a sideburned sci-fi author to give me lessons, and we had to hook it up to an old color tv, it did come with a cassette deck (for storage) and the joystick that Isaac Asimov is holding in the ad at left. To my undying regret, instead of working hard to learn BASIC coding (my father got me every book in the local library about programming) I spent my time playing an Asteroids knock-off called Microbes along with chess and Zaxxon. If you are interested, you can see the CoCo in action in the movie This is Spinal Tap, when the band are playing computer games on the tour bus.

The games were fun, (considering the .89 MHz processor) but I can't help feeling that I missed the boat. So many people of my generation wound up being involved in software design, but because of my weak will and poor choices, I have been relegated to the status of "computer user" instead. But I have tried to make up for it by using a lot of computers.

When I went to Hampshire College in 1988 I was part of one of the last groups of students to go to school with typewriters. (Unlike my friend Sascha, who had the first laptop I ever saw in person). But after struggling on my electric typewriter for a semester, my father bought me a "word processor" from Brother. It featured a built-in daisy wheel printer, floppy disk storage, and a CRT screen for previewing work prior to printing. As you can see, the machine was kind of big and bulky, but it worked pretty well. You had to load in pieces of paper one at a time, there were no fonts, and you couldn't add images to your papers, but I wasn't looking for any of that, so I didn't miss what I didn't have.

For my fourth year of college, I had to complete a major project called a Division III, which in my case took the shape of a 75 page paper (about arbitration in major league baseball). My father was, by this time, a Macintosh enthusiast, and while he had never used one, he read everything he could about the brand and was convinced that his kids should have Macs. So he found a way to get my younger sister and me new Macintosh Classic computers. This was a major step up. It had a 9" screen that could show 16 shades of gray. As far as I was concerned, the display was breathtaking! My father splurged for 2 MB of RAM, so that my computer could run Apple's new System 7 (the first one that allowed a user to run multiple programs at once). I remember being very impressed with the 20MB hard drive, and wondering why anyone would ever need so much space! I used this computer from 1991-1994. During that time I did college and grad school work on it, designed flyers and documents for my job as a fire safety consultant in Boston, and wrote a weekly column for a newspaper in Northampton, MA.

By 1994 I was married and living in Indiana, going to grad school at Purdue. My wife wanted a peppier computer, especially one that could take advantage of the "Internet". So we went to Sears and bought a Performa 550, a color computer with a modem (that came with an America Online account). The Performa was significantly faster, with a blazing 33MHz processor (a 680030, instead of a 680000) and it had a CD-ROM drive, could display 256 colors and had a 100 MB hard drive. It weighed over 40 pounds (compared to the Classic's 16 pounds) which was a nuisance as we moved three times with this machine, but big screens meant big weight back then. I wrote my Master's thesis on this computer, and learned how to make my first websites on it. This computer was great for work and amusement, and during the mid-1990's I was an ardent Macintosh hobbyist. Eventually, in 1996 my knowledge of computers got me a job at St. Paul's School in Concord, New Hampshire, where I supported 120 Macs, and helped teachers integrate computers and the internet into their curricula.

Working at St. Paul's gave me the chance to have hands on experience with a bunch of neat computers. Each classroom had 15 Apple laptops chained to the desks for the students to use. Among the machines I supported were computers such as:

the PowerBook 520c (left): a color laptop (Apple's first). My first day at work I had to move a cart of 20 of these ($2500 each) from one building to another. The thought of what would happened if the cart fell over had me breaking out all over in hives!

the PowerBook 5300cs: this computer was quite nice, but several of the first ones off the production line caught fire due to bad batteries. This was before Steve Jobs' return to Apple and back when quality control was less than optimal. You can see this computer in the movie Independence Day, when Jeff Goldblum uses it to save the planet. THAT is science fiction--these computers couldn't go more than 20 minutes in a climate controlled room without freezing and needing a restart--I doubt that they could function in an alien spaceship. But maybe I'm just bitter.. I had one of these as my own work machine for a year, and it was heavy and buggy.

• the PowerBook Duo 2300: the Duo series was a sub-notebook. The docking station had a CD-ROM and floppy drive, so the machine itself was very light and stripped down. I used this computer as the controller for the campus closed-circuit TV network.

There were also more powerful desktop machines like the PowerMac 8500, which was the first computer I ever used to edit video. This powerhouse had a 100MHz processor, and was amazingly fast. I was blown away when I could edit together some video, leave for the night, and come back in the morning to find that it had rendered. Amazing!

After spending so much time with cutting edge Macs, the Performa started feeling less than optimal, so my wife and I took a plunge on the first generation Apple iMac. This machine (still in my attic 13 years later) was a breathtakingly designed all-in-one machine. It ran at a sizzling 233MHz, and was the first Apple computer (and first mainstream machine from any vendor) to forego a floppy disk drive. Steve Jobs noted that we were living in an "internet age" and no one needed to "sneaker net" small files from place to place. Apple took a lot of flak from this at first, but no one can deny that they were correct! The iMac was also the first computer from any vendor to feature USB ports, marking Apple's break from the venerable SCSI connection paradigm.

In 1999 I moved from St. Paul's to Groton School, where I took the job of Academic Technology Manager, administering the email system and continuing to work with teachers at integration of technology. My first job was leading a program where all the faculty were given Dell Latitude C600 computers. I had to train the teachers on the use and upkeep of these machines. Moving to a Windows computer was shocking at first--when I took the computer home the first night I kept rebooting it--I couldn't understand why the first things I saw on the screen were BIOS notifications. Pretty embarrassing way to start!

At Groton I was the "Mac guy", and I was able to take charge of a cutting edge Mac lab, featuring PowerMac G4 towers and containing photo and video editing, music composition, and advanced math and physics software. These computers were very advanced, running at over 300MHz, they were as powerful as the "super computers" of the early 1980's. One thing I liked to do was, by rolling around the room on a wheeled office chair, hit the power switch of each machine so that the boot up chord just kept on ringing and ringing. Through the built-in speakers of the matching monitors, the sound was pretty awesome!

As the Mac guy, I also persuaded my boss to let me use a PowerBook G4 I mean, I had to do "Mac stuff" right? I needed it for work! This computer was made of titanium, and featured a 15" wide screen display. It was on this computer that I first used MacOS X, when I got a copy of the OS in its beta release. Using this laptop as a test bed, I was able to get the Mac lab running securely with OS X in early 2002. This served as sort of a credibility builder when I moved from Groton to Wyoming Seminary in 2003. I was going to be a history teacher/technology integrator, and when I went for my interview, I brought a bootable version of my OS X image with me. Sem was only just beginning to consider OS X (they didn't go over to the new OS until 2006) but my experience was so strong that I wouldn't go back. I immediately put OS X on the MacBook they gave me, and it's all I've used, on all three school laptops I've had at the school.

In the summer of 2004, my wife began to feel frustrated by some of the limitations of the iMac, so we bought a PowerMac G5. I am pretty comfortable with saying that this is the best computer I've ever used. It has been our main computer for seven years (I wrote this blog post on it). It has two 1.8 GHz G5 processors, and still feels fast after all these years. In 2009 I installed an extra internal hard drive and doubled the RAM to 2.5 GB of RAM. The computer is rock solid, and rarely gets shut down (the longest uptime I've managed is eight months). I've been able to do some pretty serious video and graphics editing on this machine, and probably played 10,000 games of Scrabble on it as well, including my high score of 531. I've also done some audio recording, and hope to continue to do more of that in the future.

I'm so excited about the iPad. Since the late '90s I've been waiting for a small, instant-on device that could be used by teachers and students in a classroom to access networked files, web pages and emails, while also being a viable tool for document creation. Over the years I have tested (and found wanting) several devices, including:

• the Apple eMate 300: this is one of the coolest things I've ever used. It ran Apple's Newton OS, on a 25MHz processor and used a touch screen and a stylus and could (sort of) recognize handwriting. It had a PCMCIA card slot for networking, and the clamshell case was almost indestructible. This education market-only product fell by the wayside when Steve Jobs returned to Apple and killed the Newton. Supposedly Apple has continued to maintain development of handwriting recognition software, but it seems to be missing from the iPad as of now.

• the Palm pilot: I've tested numerous Palm OS (created by former Newton developers) devices over the years, some with stylus inputs, others with built-in keyboards. The OS never seemed rugged enough for kids to use in class, and the weak processors made the machines far to slow to be useful.

• the Psion Series 7: Before the Symbian OS became a global leader in mobile telephony, it was used to power small PDA devices. Psion tried to take the PDA software and blow it up onto a bigger machine, with a built in keyboard, color screen, and a Microsoft compatible office software suite. The case folded into a slick little clamshell, with a leatherette covering. The machine used a stylus/keyboard combo like the eMate, and could connect to the internet. When I was at Groton I met twice with the American home office of Psion, and tried to get them to give me a classroom's worth to test out. But the retail price of over $1000 made these devices cool, but more expensive than PowerBooks that were far more powerful. I have bought an external keyboard for my iPad, and I am hoping that it will give me an eMate/Series 7 vibe.

In closing, this sampler of some of the computers I've worked and played with over the years has made me reflect a bit about Moore's Law. Simply put, this concept was put forth by Intel founder Gordon Moore, and says that every 18 months computer processing power doubles, and prices fall. A simple comparison between all of the computers I've owned personally shows this. Each machine cost between $1000 and $1800 (with educator's discount). But each machine left its predecessor in the dust in terms of performance, stability and capabilities. Our PowerMacintosh G5 cannot run Apple's most recent OS versions, and soon the time will come where we may have to consider "upgrading" it to something running an Intel processor like Apple's more recent products. And if we do, the speed and performance increase will be notable. Who knows? Maybe it's not too long before the Star Trek computers (maybe more like the Next Generation, than the Original Series) will be a reality!

Lester Mazor, 1936-2011

2011-03-08T15:48:00.000-08:00

On March 6, 2011, Lester J. Mazor died after a short illness. Lester was a major figure in my life from the first time I was a student in his class (January 1989) until his death. He and I corresponded regularly, especially during the fall of 2010, as he and I rooted for the Philadelphia Phillies in the baseball playoffs (Lester would watch the games in Berlin, and email me at 5:00 AM his time to analyze what had happened). During the 21 years that I knew Lester (more than half my life) he served as a mentor, role model and father figure. Many people are sharing their reminiscences about Lester lately, from Hampshire's press release, to the wonderfully elegaic effort by my friend Sascha Freudenheim, which really captures a lot of Lester's essence. Having made certain to share with Lester over the years just how important he was to me, I thought I would take this opportunity to share some memories of my time with Lester, and give a sense of what he has taught me.

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When I arrived at Hampshire in the fall of 1988, many of the "original" professors were still there, and most were still energetic in their early 50's. I frequently played (rather cutthroat) softball against Ray Coppinger and Lynn Miller, and while I never took the court myself, my friends had lots of stories to tell of Lynn and Lester Mazor's rough play in basketball games. My friend Chris Glawe, F'85 did a killer Lester impression, and would frequently have me in stitches with his stories of the exploits of "Lester the molester".

To that end, I was a little nervous to take my first class with Lester in my second semester. The course was called "Law and Labor in U.S. History", and it is not going too far to say that it changed my life. I had always been interested in labor history, and the "hidden history" of America, but this class showed me that in many cases, the most overtly anti-labor actions in the country were carried out in judicial opinions and statute books; which are not as obvious as army troops shooting strikers, but in many cases are more far-reaching. To this day, I have never worked harder for a class than I did in this one. As I wrote in my Div. II self-evaluation, "even though I left every afternoon at 3:00 feeling like a two year old" I was proud of how much I learned. What was most inspiring is that Lester (and co-teacher Flavio Risech) expected us to do the kind of work that law school students did. Trying to live up to these expectations was a lot of pressure, but also very gratifying.

In the last two years I have taught a high school class called "The American Century: Constitutional Issues", in which students read over 20 Supreme Court decisions from the period 1954-2000. Students read the full decisions, including concurrences and dissents, which is pretty rare for 11th and 12th graders. I have been pleased by the effort the kids have put out, and by the number who have thanked me for challenging them. Lester's influence on this class stretched back to that class in 1989, but also went on up through this past December, as he would frequently debrief me about issues coming up in the class via email. I will really miss being able to discuss next year's version of the course with him.

In 1990 I also took a class with Lester and Jim Wald called "From Potsdam to Perestroika: East Central Europe since 1945". I thought this course would just add balance to the heavily American tilt to my studies, but it did much more than that. Lester would frequently give me articles or books to copy, but knowing that he would want to talk about it, I read the things first myself. Lester also made sure that we understood that popular culture was an important way of understanding these societies. We read novels by Kundera, Kozinski and others (inspiring my early desire to write a mash-up of the works of Oscar Wilde in the style of Milan Kundera-- "The Unbearable Lightness of Being Earnest"). Throughout the course, Lester promised that he would eventually reveal to us the reason why communism fell. We all expected a long, wordy answer. On the final day of the class Lester came in (10 minutes late, as usual) with a boom box. He walked to the front of the room, pushed Play and the first notes of the Beatles' Revolution rang out through the class. Lester just gave us one of his "hmm" sounds and walked out. I have actually stolen this (with slight adaptations) for classes of my own.

In 2006 I returned to Hampshire to attend the final in a series of law lectures organized by Lester. Before it took place I sat in on a class in that year's version of the East Central Europe class. It was very odd to be in the same place, listening to Lester's Socratic method again. And he still took the time to teach me! In the class he discussed how "signals" sent by Gorbachev's USSR gave Poles, East Germans and Hungarians the freedom to start the rebellions that wound up bringing down the Iron Curtain. Afterwards I asked him what these "signals" were like, and said that I didn't think we had them in our society. Lester chided me, referring to a story in that morning's paper about the report of the Iraq Study Group. He said all I have to do is keep my eyes open to see the signals.

During the Spring of 1991 I took an independent study with Lester. Over the course of 14 weeks I read 12 major works of political philosophy, writing 10 papers. Each week I would sit across from Lester's desk while he grilled me on what I had read, from Hobbes to Locke, to Marx to Foucault. During these sessions I was always awed with Lester's grip on history. He would always ask "what was going on" during the time we were discussing. Sadly, I often didn't know, which would send me back to my books so I could come in the next morning and give a better answer. Now, at the age of 40, after teaching history for so many years, I can do what Lester demonstrated in those independent study sessions. And whenever I ask a student "what was going on then?" I think of Lester.

In the Fall of 1992 I did part two of this independent study, along with Sascha Freudenheim and a few others. Sascha has described this in his eulogy, but the "D.W.E.M. Sem" (Dead White European Male Seminar) was a very rewarding experience. Sascha and I were basically the leaders, and Lester supervised. Sascha was (and is) much smarter than I, and more attuned to philosophy, but I am proud of having had the chance to do my bit. Around this time Lester assigned us to drive his Ford Focus to Amherst for some reason (flowers? dry cleaning? pastry?), and since neither of us drove manual transmissions, it was very exhilirating (and dangerous). Lester's trust for us was only matched by his impatience at how long it took us to complete the errand.

In my Div. III year I had few classes, and nothing before 1pm. I would usually stay up working until my favorite radio station went off the air at 2AM. But it was around then that I changed my daily habits, so that I would wake up at 7, have breakfast with Lester, clip articles until 9, and then go to sleep again until the afternoon. I always enjoyed watching Lester chat with the dining hall staff. Lester often impressed upon me that success at a school was much more likely if one was friendly with mail room, dining hall and maintenance workers. I have tried to heed these words at the schools I've worked at, and I am sure that Lester was right, as usual.

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During that pivotal Spring '89 semester, Lester hired me as his assistant. This work-study job entailed my making numerous photocopies for his classes, clipping and filing countless newspaper articles (pre-WWW), and trying to clean and organize Lester's office. For those of you who went to Lester's end of Franklin Patterson Hall back in the day, you will recall that books, papers and other detritus covered every surface in the room. And he had over 20 cartons of "Hampshiriana" in the storage room downstairs. I do not exaggerate when I say that one day, while cleaning up, I came across Lester's first grade report card! While I was boggling, Lester and Stan Warner came in. I waved the paper accusingly before Lester, and Stan said "only Lester could figure out how to get a document older than the college buried in this office", perhaps a reference to the courses Lester taught about the philosophy of time. Lester seemed to appreciate my nagging that he clean his office, but no progress was made. Imagine my surprise when I came back to visit him in 1995 and found the room clean as a whistle! He just shrugged and gave one of his trademark "hmm" noises. He was full of surprises.

Working for Lester was deeply rewarding. Basically, every morning I got a private session with Lester. He would have NPR on the radio and would expound about the stories, or the newspaper articles, or about an upcoming speaker he was hosting in a Law Lunch. The Law Lunches were afternoon sessions in the Merrill House living room, and they were very informative. Lester particularly tried to bring in speakers who could talk about issues in Europe, which was very eye-opening to a provincial naïf like me.

One of Lester's favorite activities then was the "Divided City" trip, when he would take students to both sides of the Berlin Wall during Jan. Term. I was able to go on this trip in 1991 (by then it was called "Divided City Reunited"--ultimately Lester set up a Hampshire campus at the Free University of Berlin). It was my first (and only) time traveling abroad, and the trip was another instance where Lester helped change my life. In the first place, he managed to finagle funding from the school to pay for my trip--all my parents had to come up with was spending money for my two weeks in Berlin. In the second place, he was confident enough in me to let me have more freedom than I'd ever had before. I spoke no German, had never been on my own in a city, and yet I had to travel from my hostesses home to all kinds of places all over the city. I was embarrassingly provincial (years later, Lester tried to lure me back to visit Berlin, saying "they sell Cheerios here now") but I learned a lifetime's worth of lessons.

All my life, I had been taught to dislike (and fear) Germans. In fact, my discomfort was so high that I never planned to go--I only put my name on the list for the trip because Lester kept asking me too (all the time I knew that I couldn't afford it). When Lester came up with the $1400 to pay for the trip I was chagrined, to say the least. On my first day in Berlin, I went to dinner with Lester and Professor Hermann Klenner, who had been in the Wehrmacht in WWII. As I wrote in my self evaluation, "I was confronted with my bogey-man. And I liked him!" During the visit, the U.S. Congress was debating whether to give the first President Bush permission to launch the first Gulf War. On the night before I left, the allied bombing campaign began. When I returned to my hostess' home, she was crying before the TV. I asked what had happened and she said "you're bombing Iraq". I blustered a demurral (after all, I was opposed to the war!) but it was too late. Birgit had done to me what I had been doing to Germans my whole life, and the lesson I learned that moment about the dangers of stereotyping, generalizing, and rushing to judgement is one I think about all the time.

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The last time I saw Lester was in the end of September, 2008. He had written me out of the blue, saying that he would be at a conference in Villanova, PA (about 100 miles away) and that he'd like to see me. I immediately made plans to visit him for breakfast at his hotel, where I was surprised to learn that Lester also expected that the visit would entail my driving him to the airport. Lester was physicaly diminished (gout, arthritis, and weight gain made it impossible for him to bend his legs., and heart trouble limited his movements. He regretted not being able to play basketball anymore) but mentally as sharp as ever. I have to confess to having been nervous during the drive down--after all those years, I didn't want to sound silly or not smart! We discussed the upcoming election. Lester, of course, was famous for advocating ballots with a "none of the above" option. I shared with him my wary distrust of Barack Obama, and was impressed when he analyzed the Senator's character, career and campaign, concluding with an admission that he was planning to vote for Obama. Lester acknowledged that politicians will always disappoint, and that they rarely live up to their stated principles, but concluded that it was important to have hope. I found this very thought provoking and inspiring.

I have 75 saved emails between Lester and me, dating back to 1997. Early ones vacillate between complaints about this new technology (Lester had always done all of his typing on a typewriter) and fascination about what he could do with it. In the late 1990s he began spending half of the year in Berlin with his wife Anne (Sascha and I attended their wedding, which was a great honor--Sascha has some pictures of the event) and Lester would write to tell me how helpful the internet was to follow NBA and NCAA basketball. Lester was a gracious, empathetic friend as I wrote to him about my job changes, the death of my father, and the lengthy, chronic illness of my wife. Lester shared with me the stories of his own declining health, including multiple heart attacks and a serious stroke.

While I am sure that he corresponded with other former students on more intellectually meaningful topics, it always made me feel good to get another missive from Lester, (even when he was chiding me for not taking care of my injured back "after all", he said, "you're not getting any younger") with his usual closing "All my love, Lester". I regret that I won't have the chance to get another of these messages, but I hope that wherever he is now, he knows that he has "all my love".

The War on (Merry) Christmas

2010-12-24T10:08:00.000-08:00

Depending on the circles you travel in, you may be aware that some right-wing types believe that there is a concerted "War on Christmas" that has been going on for years. Just Google "War on Christmas" and you will find over 2 million hits. Or you could go to Amazon.com and buy Fox News personality John Gibson's screed "The War on Christmas: How The Liberal Plot To Ban The Sacred Christian Holiday Is Worse Than You Think".

Many people are terrified that before (or after) Barack Hussein Obama comes to confiscate our guns, he will also take away Christmas. In their perfervid imaginations they can probably already envision a Kwanzaa tree on the National Mall. Ultimately, I think no one has anything to worry about here. The reason is that government wars just don't work. Don't forget that there was a liberal "war on poverty" that started 44 years ago, and poverty rates are worse now than they were then.

Liberals aren't the only ones who screw these things up. Don't forget the conservative War on Drugs (40 years old) and War on Terror (9 years) that have been equally as unsuccessful. In fact, I'm sure that there are a large number of poverty stricken Americans living in bad neigborhoods being terrorized by drug addicts right now. They must be the independents we hear so much about.

But hey, it's Christmas, right? Why don't I just lighten up and give in to the holiday spirit? Well, believe me I'd like to. But there is something holding me back. The phrase "Merry Christmas".

I have been bothered by the expression "Merry Christmas" for decades. My biggest gripe about it is that I have trouble quantifying just what people mean by "merry". The dictionary definition of the word doesn't help that much:

merry |ˈmerē | adjective ( merrier , merriest )
cheerful and lively : the narrow streets were dense with merry throngs of students | a merry grin.
• (of an occasion or season) characterized by festivity and rejoicing : he wished me a merry Christmas.
• [ predic. ] Brit., informal slightly and good-humoredly drunk : after the third bottle of beer he began to feel quite merry.

I mean, I know what it is to be cheerful and I'm usually fairly lively, but I don't think that people really wish others a "cheerful and lively Christmas". And as a non-drinker, I don't really relate to wishing people a "slightly and good humoredly drunk Christmas".

Further, when one thinks of personages associated with Christmas, "merry" isn't the first word that comes to mind. Santa Claus, for instance, is usually described as "jolly". Ebeneezer Scrooge required haunting by no less than three ectoplasmic spirits before he could bring himself to be a mensch. George Bailey was basically suicidal. And don't get me started on the Grinch...

But there is an alternative that I think could work for everybody. In coming up with this, I decided to look to England. As the progenitors of our language the British have a gift of the pithy phrase. Such as "French Leave" to describe someone who departs without permission, or a deserter. On the other hand they call french fries "chips", which is confusing. But English antipathy for their Gallic neighbors is a topic for another day. The main point for right now is that in England, people greet each other in December with a hearty "Happy Christmas". This phrase is simple, direct and to the point. I believe that we should adapt this for ourselves.

I've been happy, I know what happiness is, and I want everyone to be happy all the time. Especially on such a special holiday. So, from me to you, please accept my best wishes for a

Happy Christmas.

War is Over (if you want it...)

Desert Island Discs, #1--Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs

2010-11-26T20:00:00.000-08:00

Every year as an icebreaker exercise I ask students to name which record album they would want with them if they were trapped on a desert island (with an infinite supply of electricity). Parenthetically, I've been doing this so long that I've had to change the question from "record album" to "CD" and now I come across lots of kids who say they don't listen to CD's. The answers always vary, ranging from pop stars du jour to classic rock to some equivalent of "mixed tape" (the most creative students). But I thought I would take some time here to delve into my choices.

I will write about other albums in the future, but for most of my life there has only been one true "desert island disc" for me: Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs by Derek and the Dominos. The album was released in the Fall of 1970 (40 years ago), just three months after I was born. I picked up my first copy of the album on vinyl at the local Pathmark supermarket when I was 14. The album cover has a bewitching image of a mysteriously beautiful woman on the front, and "Brownie" Eric Clapton's sunburst Fender Stratocaster on the back, surrounded by dominos.

"Derek and the Dominos" was a group fronted by English guitar legend Eric Clapton. Clapton, who was born in 1945 (12 days before my mother) fell in love with American blues music in his early teens and became obsessed with learning how to play like his heroes (in due course during my early teens I fell in love with Clapton's music, and he became the gateway to my own blues obsession). He played lead guitar in the Yardbirds (who later featured future superstars Jeff Beck and Jimmy Page in the lead guitar chair), leaving them after they became, in his words, "too commercial". Clapton went on to play for a year with British blues patriarch John Mayall in his Bluesbreakers. During this time the 19 year old Clapton blazed his way to fame on the "Beano" album, which prompted London graffiti artists to scrawl "Clapton is God" on the walls of the metropolis.

Clapton left Mayall to start the first "supergroup", Cream, with former Graham Bond Organisation drummer Ginger Baker and bassist Jack Bruce, who had played with the GBO and the Bluesbreakers, among other outfits. Cream had a short, meteoric career, demarcated by thrilling live performances and vicious infighting between the rhythm section members. Clapton had envisioned a true blues group, while the others preferred jazz oriented free-form explorations. Clapton soon tired of this conflict, and began looking for new outlets for his creativity.

One example of this was enabled due to his close friendship with Beatle George Harrison. In the late 1960's, as the Beatles were also starting to grow apart following their withdrawal from the road, Harrison felt that his contributions were being denigrated by John Lennon and Paul McCartney. During the tracking of what became the double LP known as the White Album, Harrison brought Clapton in to play the leads on the stirring number "While My Guitar Gently Weeps". Clapton also began listening to the first album by The Band, Music From Big Pink. The rootsy, folksy music emanating from what critic Greil Marcus later called the "Old, Weird America" (recorded by a group made up of four Canadians and an American) inspired him almost as much as the concept of musicians living communally in an idyllic, country setting. Once again, Clapton decided to leave the group which brought him fortune and fame to seek his muse.

By now, Clapton had met up with Delaney and Bonnie Bramlett, who led a band that played with Joe Cocker on his "Mad Dogs and Englishmen" tour. Delaney and Bonnie and Friends, featuring a crack rhythm section from Oklahoma (bassist Carl Radle, organist Bobby Whitlock and drummer Jim Gordon) had the authentic Americana vibe, and seemed to be a mix of communalism and professionalism that attracted Eric Clapton. He hired them as the opening act on the only tour for his next band, Blind Faith. The experiment with Blind Faith died out quickly due to Ginger Baker's drug addiction and the fact that Clapton preferred being a sideman for Delaney and Bonnie than the frontman of his own group. After Blind Faith fell apart, Delaney produced Clapton's eponymous first solo record, which featured hits like "Let it Rain" and "After Midnight", songs that represented a departure from the blues pyrotechnics EC had made the basis of his renown.

During this time, as described in painful detail in his autobiography, Clapton, Eric Clapton's frustrations were not only musical in origin. He had fallen deeply in love with Pattie Boyd Harrison, the wife of his best friend, the Beatle George Harrison. The Harrison marriage was not very strong, but Clapton was conflicted with worries of being disloyal, and Patti was not ready to leave her husband despite his infidelities. As a way of hiding from the stresses of his passions, Clapton hid in a haze of heroin with his teenage girlfriend Alice Ormsby-Gore and obsessed over Patti.

One source of this obsession was reading the classic Arabic story of the doomed love of Layla and Majnun, making the rounds of swinging London's newly multi-culturally aware youth. Soon Clapton had written several songs based on the idea of hopeless, forbidden love and put together a group with Radle, Whitlock and Gordon to record them. Hoping to remain incognito, the group was billed as "Derek and The Dominos" (though the concept was ruined when a nervous record company released posters proclaiming "Derek is Eric"). After a week of recording at Criterion Studios in Miami, the Dominos were joined by Duane Allman of the Allman Brothers Band. The 24 year-old slide guitar wizard pushed Clapton to new heights of songwriting, arranging and soloing in their ensuing collaboration. After weeks of marathon sessions combined with ingestion of massive quantities of drugs, one of the greatest albums ever made was finished. The following is my summary and description of the tracks on the record.

THE SONGS

Side One

"I Looked Away": This song begins with a simple melody in the key of C played on a Stratocaster, with counterpoint lines overdubbed. Eric Clapton played all of the guitar on the first three songs of the album, even though the music does bear some resemblance to Allman Brothers-style twin lead guitar work. This is likely due to the influence of producer Tom Dowd. Clapton sings the bulk of the song, until Bobby Whitlock bursts in with a soulful change of tone:

Seems a sin

To love another man's woman

I guess I'll keep on sinning and loving you Lord

'til my very last day

This is one of the first of many hints that the theme of unrequited (or at least, unanswerable) love would permeate the album.

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"Bell Bottom Blues": This song was reputedly written for Patti by Eric (see more about this at "Layla" below). The lyrics of this song never fail to pull at my heart. When Clapton sings "if I could choose a place to die, it would be in your arms", or "it's all wrong, but it's all right" I choke up. He is so passionately in love with her, but he doesn't know what it will take to have her. In the chorus of the song he cries:

Do you want to see me crawl across the floor to you?

Do you want to hear me beg you to take me back?

I'd gladly do it

Because I don't want to fade away

Give me one more day please

I don't want to fade away

In your heart I want to stay

The solo in this song is deceptively simple, switching from C major to A minor and featuring emotional, plucked harmonics (influenced by Robbie Robertson of the Band) that sound like angels. The song features a long fade out which repeats the chorus. After listening to this song I am drained emotionally.

************************

"Keep on Growing": This mid-tempo rocker has a groove more like the work Clapton did with Delaney and Bonnie. Clapton shares the vocals with Whitlock again, and in this song he seems to describe how he needed to move on from Alice and be fully available to Patti. Clapton sings:

I was standing

Looking in the face of one who loved me

Feeling so ashamed.

Hoping, and praying Lord that she could understand me

But I didn't know her name

then Whitlock comes in with:

She took my hand in hers and

Told me I was wrong.

Said, you're gonna be alright boy

Just as long

As you keep on growing

Many have argued that the duelling guitars solo on this number must be Clapton and Allman, but studio logs seem to indicate that Clapton did all of this work himself, though he consciously played in an Allmanesque vein. Either way, this song is a major burst of hi-energy to pick the listener up.

************************

"Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out": Clapton put classic blues numbers at the end of sides 1-3, and this was the first. "Nobody Knows You When Your're Down and Out" was originally recorded by Bessie Smith in the Depression, and it's world weary acknowledgement that popularity follows fame and fortune, but without it one has nothing is another drop back into the abyss of sorrow that Clapton seemed to be feeling. Interestingly, just a short while after singing "I began to fall so low / Lost all my good friends, I did not have nowhere to go" Clapton descended into near hermit like existence with nothing but Alice and heroin to get by (when Patti rejected him even after listening to this album). There is slide guitar on this song played by Duane Allman, making his first appearance on the record.

************************

Side Two

"I Am Yours": The beautiful lyrics of this song, which are repeated twice, come straight from Layla and Majnun:

I am yours

However distant you may be

There blows no wind but wafts your scent to me

There sings no bird but calls your name to me

Each memory that has left its trace with me

Lingers forever as a part of me.

The musical accompaniment includes Indian style percussion and Duane's slide guitar, both repeating the melody line and embellishing it. This song is lovely, and it always makes me think of my wife. It is one of the most gorgeous love songs I've ever heard.

************************

"Anyday" : Beginning with an emphatic combo of Hammond organ and slide guitar, this song rises to crescendo after crescendo. Clapton seems to be feeling optimistic about his chances in this song, as he sings:

If you believe in me

Like I believe in you

We could have a love so true

It would go on endlessly

And I know, anyday, anyday

I will see you smile

Anyway, anyway

If only for a little while

This is followed by Whitlock's gruff, soul-inflected voice trying to supplement the optimism with bravado:

I know someday baby you're gonna need me

When this old world has got you down

I'll be right here so woman call me

And I'll never, ever

Let you down

The instrumental highlight of the song is the intertwining of Duane's slide with Clapton's standard guitar playing. They seem to raise each other to new heights of expressiveness and joy in each chorus. Clapton takes the first solo, sounding similar to that which he played in "While My Guitar Gently Weeps", and then Duane takes over with screaming slide action.

************************

"Key to the Highway": This blues in A was recorded live, and in fact it fades in during a solo chorus. The song was originally recorded by one of Clapton's early heroes, Big Bill Broonzy, but the guitar duel between EC and Duane lift this into one of the epic blues rock songs ever. Clapton plays standard guitar while Duane plays slide, and each man's solos wring the last drops of emotion from the common blues structure (though this is an 8-bar blues, not a 12-bar song). The song describes a man having to hit the "highway" after having been "driven from home". In general the lyrics are in keeping with the themes of the album, but the passionate playing is even more evidence of just how strongly Clapton was feeling the need for "one more kiss mama, before I go".

This is the most played song on my iTunes playlist, as I often put it on and play along on my guitar.

************************

Side Three

"Tell the Truth": This song also brings some funky, countrified Oklahoma sound to the album. Bobby Whitlock has described the writing of this song as coming out of the creative, drug fuelled ferment of the apartment the band all shared. The song was the single for the album, and it seems like a single. Frankly I've never felt that this song really fits with the rest of the record, and as a youngster I would often skip over this song (the old fashioned way, by lifting the tone arm) to get to the next one. As a result my vinyl copy was scratched a lot at this point.

************************

"Why Does Love Got to Be So Sad?": This is one of my favorite songs on the album, and one of the all-time great "twin lead guitar" songs. My theory is that Duane Allman plays most of the lead on this song, though many people disagree. To me the expressive soloing sounds so much like Duane, and so not like Eric that it is plain. But either way, the song is a rollicking treat of guitar soloing.

Starting with jet speed guitars responding to every lyrical line, along with a swinging bass and pumping Hammond organ, Clapton plaintively demands "why does love got to be sad?"

Like a moth to a flame

Like a song without a name

I've never been the same since I met you

Like a bird on the wing

I've got a brand new song to sing

I can't keep on singing about you

The main solo that starts at 1:16 into the song blazes with passion. It is clearly Duane (without slide) who takes the first solo on his Gibson, with Clapton answering later on the Strat. The solos on this song (and on the next one) sound like the melodies to new songs. They are so vocal that I often imagine new words in my head while they play circles around each other. The fade out of this song is sort of a nice foreshadowing for the extended coda of "Layla" on the flip side of the record.

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"Have You Ever Loved A Woman": the third blues standard on the album (also in the key of C), this song by Billy Myles had been famously covered by Freddie King, a Texas bluesman who had long been one of Clapton's heroes. The words to the song describe a terrible situation, but one that I felt very deeply as a young man. In college, I was secretly in love with the girlfriend of one of my best friends. Eventually it worked out, and she and I have been married since 1994, but whenever I heard this song I felt deep down the pain and confusion of the singer:

Have you ever loved a woman

So much, you tremble in pain?

Have you ever loved a woman

So much, you tremble in pain?

But all the time you know

She bears another man's name

But you just love that woman

So much, it's a shame and a sin

You just love that woman

So much, it's a shame and a sin

But all the time you know

She belongs to your very best friend

Have you ever loved a woman
And you know you can't leave her alone?
Have you ever loved a woman
And you know you can't leave her alone?
But something deep inside of you
Won't let you wreck your best friend's home

The song follows a typical blues "call and response" pattern, and Clapton's fills after each line sting and burn. Duane Allman plays the first solo on slide guitar, taking two choruses to play a slow, stately lead. Meanwhile, Clapton's rhythm work behind him is getting more pungent and insistent. Finally Clapton screams into action, ripping off the most emotionally charged guitar solo I've ever heard. To me, he is singing the words "I just love you woman, and it's a shame and a sin, but I have to have you. I won't stop til I do. I love you and I will tell you all my life"--I can hear how these words fit with the melody and rhythm he is playing. At one point Clapton speeds up so fast he almost overtakes the beat, and he slows down while still milking each bended note for all the emotional content he can. This is a solo for the ages.

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Side Four

"Little Wing" Clapton was a great friend of Jimi Hendrix, who wrote this song. The Dominoes recorded this song in the summer of 1970, only a few weeks before Hendrix died. While in America Clapton had bought a left-handed Stratocaster for Jimi, and he hoped to give it as a gift at a nightclub that September night when Hendrix died at the age of 27. This version of "Little Wing" is more of a rocking version than the Curtis Mayfield, soul inspired version that Hendrix had recorded. This version is to "Little Wing", in some ways, as Hendrix' version of "All Along the Watchtower" was to Bob Dylan's original version (except that unlike AATW, the Dominos version of "Little Wing" has not become the canonical form of the song. Originally meant as a tribute to a fellow guitar hero, by the time the album came out Hendrix had passed and this came to be seen as a memorial to a fallen legend. Personally I've always preferred this version of the song, but I am definitely in the minority in that respect.

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"It's Too Late": Written by early rock and roll songsmith Chuck Willis, this slow, 1950's -sh rocker is like the sorbet one eats to cleanse the palate before the next course, which is one of the greatest rock songs ever. Over a simple chord pattern, Clapton sings with a bluesy voice:

It's too late, she's gone

It's too late, my baby's gone

Wish I had told her she was my only one

It's too late

She's gone.

.....

I wonder does she know

When she left me

It hurt me so

I need your love babe

Please don't make me wait

Tell me

It's not too late.

The song features good solos on standard (EC) and slide (DA) guitars over a rock and roll shuffle beat. And while you can't hear this on digital versions of the song, on the original vinyl album, the last drum kick of this tune led without pause into the iconic opening lick of "Layla".

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"Layla": The greatest rock song ever? Rolling Stone magazine ranked it 27th, and it's hard to argue with many of the songs they list higher (except for "Smells Like Teen Spirit"), but I think it's the best. Clapton's voice is blasted by booze, drugs, sleeplessness and longing. I can't think of another song where the singer is so clearly opening his heart to the listener. The words of the song come straight from his relationship with Patti, who becomes Layla for the course of the record.

Parenthetically, Patti Harrison Clapton was the inspiration for several great love songs. George wrote "Something" for her (the second most-covered Beatles song), Eric wrote "Bell Bottom Blues", "Layla" and "Wonderful Tonight" in her honor. That must feel amazing. But Patti says that when she hears these songs they make her sad for the loves she lost.

The tough guitar, with soaring harmony leads introduces the song, which has poignant lyrics:

What'll you do when you get lonely

And no one's waiting by your side?

You've been running and hiding much too long

You know it's just your foolish pride.

Layla--you've got me on my knees

Layla--I'm begging darling please

Layla--darling won't you ease my worried mind.

Tried to give you consolation

When your old man had let you down.

Like a fool, I fell in love with you.

You've turned my whole world upside down.

Layla--you've got me on my knees

Layla--I'm begging darling please

Layla--darling won't you ease my worried mind.

Let's make the best of the situation

Before I finally go insane

Please don't say we'll never find a way

And tell me all my love's in vain.

Layla--you've got me on my knees

Layla--I'm begging darling please

Layla--darling won't you ease my worried mind.

According to Patti, Eric invited her to his flat and played her the record. Patti says:

...he wanted me to listen to a new number he had written. He switched on the tape machine, turned up the volume and played me the most powerful, moving song I had ever heard. It was "Layla". He played it to me two or three times, all the while watching my face intently for my reaction. My first thought was, "Oh God, everyone's going to know this is about me." I was married to Eric's close friend George Harrison, but Eric had been making his desire for me clear for months. But with the realisation that I had inspired such passion and creativity, the song got the better of me. I could resist no longer.

Though in reality she did resist, and in desperation Clapton threw himself headfirst into the pool of heroin that he wouldn't leave for years.

The beautiful coda to the song, played on piano with Duane's bird-like trills on slide guitar was written by drummer Jim Gordon as part of another, unnamed tune. But Clapton encouraged him to donate it for this record. To me it is a lovely melody that hints at hope, redemption and endless possibilities. In a lot of ways, "Layla" is two records in one, the hard rocker and the contemplative coda, but together they are even greater than the sum of their parts.

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"Thorn Tree In the Garden": If you look up "anti-climax" in the dictionary you see this song. It is a pretty song, plaintively sung by Bobby Whitlock, but after "Layla" who needs it? Listening to the words more carefully shows that it fits lyrically and conceptually with the album, but it is hard to listen to this song (which sounds better suited for Harry Nilsson or B.J. Thomas) at the end of the record.

WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

Eric Clapton: Clapton continues to record and tour. After kicking heroin he married Patti, but the marriage was spoiled by both of their alcoholism. While Eric marrying Patti seems like a dream come true, it was more of a nightmare. Clapton has been sober since the late 1980's, and has founded a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center in Antigua. He auctioned off nearly all of his guitars to pay for the center, including "Brownie", the guitar used on this album, which fetched over $450,000 in 1999.

George Harrison: George remarried after Patti left him, raising a family and enjoying a life in movie making and seclusion. He released several albums, including one as part of the Travelling Willburys, a "supergroup" with Bob Dylan, Roy Orbison, Tom Petty and Jeff Lynne. He and Clapton remained friends, and EC coaxed George out for a co-headlining tour of Japan in 1991. George died in 2001.

Patti Boyd Harrison Clapton: Patti is still alive, and recently wrote a memoir of her interesting life. She is a well-regarded photographer.

Alice Ormsby-Gore: The daughter of the British ambassador to the US, who fell in love with Clapton at the age of 17 never recovered from what was ultimately unrequited passion for EC and an addiction to heroin. She died in 1996 from an overdose, living in poverty in a bedsitter apartment outside of London.

Delaney and Bonnie: Their marriage broke up, but each stayed in entertainment. Delaney died in 2008, and Bonnie is still alive, occasionally acting and singing.

Carl Radle: Radle died in 1980 as a result of years of drug and alcohol abuse. His girlfriend (who found his body) later committed suicide.

Bobby Whitlock: Is still in the music business, and has a memoir coming out soon. It should be a good read.

Jim Gordon: Murdered his mother with a knife and hammer in 1983. Diagnosed as a schizophrenic, he has been imprisoned ever since.

Duane Allman:Less than a year after recording "Layla", Allman died from injuries sustained during a motorcycle accident. He was 25 years old.

It's A Small World After All...

2010-11-04T17:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I like to play the "What Do They Have In Common" game. Like, it's cool to know that the members of Steely Dan and Larry Hagman all went to Bard College. Or that Thomas Jefferson and John Adams both died on July 4, 1826, 50 years to the day after they signed the Declaration of Independence. Or that Carol Channing and Joe Namath were both on Richard Nixon's enemies list (and, presumably) both wore pantyhose. But every so often, something new pops up that amuses and amazes in the same breath.

This past week, former President George Bush (the two term one, who started two unnecessary wars, not the one term one who only started one and a half unnecessary wars--remember Panama?) was making the rounds of tv shows to flog his upcoming new book. In a conversation with NBC "news" host Matt Lauer, Forty-three described some of the most pivotal moments in his time in the White House. According to the former POTUS, Hurricane Katrina marked a new low; well, not exactly the hurricane...

BUSH ON KANYE WEST:

MATT LAUER:
About a week after the storm hit NBC aired a telethon asking for help for the victims of Katrina. We had celebrities coming in to ask for money. And I remember it vividly because I hosted it. And at one part of the evening I introduced Kanye West. Were you watching?

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
Nope.

MATT LAUER:
You remember what he said?

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:

Yes, I do. He called me a racist.

MATT LAUER:
Well, what he said, “George Bush doesn’t care about black people.”

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
That’s — “he’s a racist.” And I didn’t appreciate it then. I don’t appreciate it now. It’s one thing to say, “I don’t appreciate the way he’s handled his business.” It’s another thing to say, “This man’s a racist.” I resent it, it’s not true, and it was one of the most disgusting moments in my Presidency.

MATT LAUER:
This from the book. “Five years later I can barely write those words without feeling disgust.” You go on. “I faced a lot of criticism as President. I didn’t like hearing people claim that I lied about Iraq’s weapons of mass destruction or cut taxes to benefit the rich. But the suggestion that I was racist because of the response to Katrina represented an all time low.”

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
Yeah. I still feel that way as you read those words. I felt ‘em when I heard ‘em, felt ‘em when I wrote ‘em and I felt ‘em when I’m listening to ‘em.

MATT LAUER:
You say you told Laura at the time it was the worst moment of your Presidency?

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
Yes. My record was strong I felt when it came to race relations and giving people a chance. And– it was a disgusting moment.

MATT LAUER:
I wonder if some people are going to read that, now that you’ve written it, and they might give you some heat for that. And the reason is this–

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
Don’t care.

In other words, in an interview in which he describes his DUI arrest, the decision to go to war in Iraq and other key moments of his life, George Bush says that the "worst moment of his Presidency" was when a rap star who 60% of Americans (and 124% of Republicans) wouldn't recognize if they saw on the street said he "didn't like black people". Wondering what else was in contention among the low moments of Bush's time in office I put my crack research staff (a/k/a my memory) to thinking of a few other options. Here is what we found:

the economy tanking in his final months as President including oil rising to $100/bbl; the US going from a surplus to six trillion dollars in debt, and entering the worst recession since the 1930's.
rising unemployment
unemployment rising from less than 4% to over 8% and the loss of millions of jobs.
not finding the WMOD
not finding Osama Bin Laden
Hurricane Katrina (the part where people drowned and a city was destroyed, not the tv show)
oh yeah, and September 11, 2001

Another noteworthy part of the interview (airing on your GE or Comcast owned network Monday, November 9th) was when Mr. Bush described topic number 3, above:

MATT LAUER:
Your words. “No one was more sickened or angry than I was when we didn’t find weapons of mass destruction.” You still have a sickening feeling when you think about it.

PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH:
I do.

This Bush guy sure feels sick a lot, doesn't he? Hopefully the $7 million advance he received for the book can buy all the Pepto-Bismol he needs.

Speaking of advance sales, and finally getting to the point of this post, singer-songwriter ingenue Taylor Swift is coming out with a new album at the same time as President Bush's book. Among the songs on the nation's number one selling record is "Innocent" which details Ms. Swift's upstaging on the MTV Music Video Awards show by none other than Kanye West. Young Taylor Swift seems mature beyond her (20) years when she sings:

Thirty two and still growing up now

Who you are is not what you did

You're still an innocent

Time turns flames to embers

You'll have new Septembers

Every one of us has messed up too

Minds change like the weather

I hope you remember

Today is never too late to.. be brand new.

So yes--I'm sure this still hurts Taylor Swift, but she is able to forgive and move on. Hopefully George Bush will download a copy to listen to on his iPod when he goes back to the ranch to clear brush. But deep down, I wonder if, when SHE is old and washed up, if Taylor Swift will one day be asked to name the low point in HER career. And wonder if she'll say: "that time that Kanye shoved me on tv and said Beyonce should have won for "Single Ladies"...

Living in a Golden Age

2010-10-24T05:53:00.000-07:00

I am a teacher of history for a living. And at times my focus has been the history of baseball. I became a baseball fan at an early age, and growing up in Warminster, PA (a suburb of Philadelphia), I became a Phillies fan.

In the mid 1970's through early 1980's, the Phillies had a remarkable run of success. They won 101 games in 1976 and 1977, won the National League East title 1976,1977 and 1978, then won the World Series in 1980. The were very competitive in the strike year of 1981, and won a final pennant in 1983, losing the World Series to the Baltimore Orioles in six games. I turned six in 1976 and was 13 when I was one of 60,000 fans at game five of the '83 Series. I naturally assumed that the Phillies had always been, and would always be, a great team.

And then the bottom fell out. As the Phillies plunged into basically two decades of sub-mediocrity (except for the brilliant, blazing comet of the 1993 pennant winners) I learned a disturbing truth: the Phillies have basically ALWAYS been BAD. The first team in professional sports to lose 10,000 games has, it turns out, enjoyed nearly all of its success during my lifetime. In fact, it was learning the truth about the Phillies that led me to the study of history as a vocation.

I am still a passionate baseball fan, and the wonders of the internet have given a whole new thrill to my fandom. During important Phillies games, friends of mine from as far back as first grade from all over America gather on Facebook to collectively expound about the game at hand. In most cases I haven't seen these people since 1988, but we unite as one behind the team we grew up following.

As I write this today, mere hours after the Phillies fell one run and one game short of being the first National League team to go to three straight World Series since the Cardinals of the 1940's I am conscious of something that was not aware of as a youth: I am living during the time of (and watching all the games of) the greatest Phillies team ever. Since 2007 they have won four straight National League Eastern Division titles, they won the pennant in 2008 and 2009 and won the World Series in 2008. They have had outstanding players and the talented, patient managership of Charlie Manuel has been inspiring (though it drives me crazy how rarely he has players bunt). Basically, we are going through a Golden Age of Phillies baseball.

I often wonder if people have recognized that they are living in a special era. I imagine, for instance, that many Americans were conscious of a "Golden Age" of sorts in the four years between the end of WWII and the detonation of the Soviet Union's first atomic bomb. During that time, as the United States bestrode the world like a colossus, recovered its financial footing while the rest of the planet was in a shambles, and saw the rise of new arts and technologies, it must have been hard to imagine that there could be a better time or place to live (at least for middle-class, white Americans). But on the other hand, after the turmoil of the Depression followed by the terror of the War, the time of peace might have been treated with more of a weary distrust, especially with a Cold War looming in the wings. Similarly, did the people of Greece in the age of Pericles know that they would be known as the "Golden Age" for the rest of time? All I know is that I want to savor every moment of the Phillies success. Because if history teaches us anything, it is that success it fleeting, Golden Ages turn into long epochs of, at best, tarnished brass, and that it is important to have memories of the fruitful harvest during fallow years.

So I salute the Phillies, applaud their success on the diamond in 2010, and look forward to the chance to watch them continue to succeed in the future.

Why A Dunking Booth Is A True Representation Of America

2010-10-09T09:35:00.000-07:00

Last night I participated in Wyoming Seminary's "Cannonball For A Cure". In this event students, faculty children, teachers and administrators did cannonballs into the swimming pool to raise money for breast cancer research. Students made donations all week to see which of the adults in the community would have to get in the pool. The natatorium was full of spectators, and the students cheered ardently as their coaches, teachers and dormheads had to walk the plank. Because everyone loves to laugh at the expense of their betters. As the seasons turn from summer to fall, it is likely that carnivals and county fairs are receding into your rear-view mirror. Besides the chance to see award-winning livestock, ride the Ferris wheel and eat every variety of fried food under the sun, these events are often accompanied by the chance to use a dunking booth, which is sometimes the most popular attraction.

The dunking booth, sometimes known as a "dunk tank" is a contraption which places someone on a stool suspended over a tank of cold water. The stool is connected to a spring-loaded mechanism, which when struck by a thrown baseball releases the occupant into the drink. While many people find it fun to sit on the stool and be dunked, especially on hot days, the ne plus ultra of dunking booths occurs when the person getting dunked is a person of some prestige and dignity. Just Google "dunk tank" principal OR boss and if the 75,000 results don't convince you that the chance to force your employer, supervisor, local politician or pushy spouse is a popular American tradition, then I don't know what will.

The reason why everyone loves the chance to dunk an authority figure is because it gives the dunker the chance to feel a sort of equality with the dunkee. What is more levelling than the chance to humiliate someone who is in a position to humiliate you every day? What is more American than the ability to say to someone, "you're not better than me" and then prove it by soaking them in cold water (by throwing a baseball no less)? Americans like to believe that our country is a meritocracy, where people are promoted due to their innate talents, skills and attributes, not on who they are related to, or how much money they have. But sometimes this fantasy is shaken and when we see people who we don't respect in positions of leadership and responsibility we can lose faith. What better way to restore our confidence in America than by showing one of these blowhards that we are "throwhards" and that our skills sufficient to get them wet and embarrassed?

But there is another way in which the dunking booth is like America. At the end of the day, your boss/teacher/principal/police chief/local politician/pushy spouse will climb out of the tank, dry him or herself off, and go right back to being in charge. And the person who paid $5 to throw the ball will be in exactly the same position as before, just poorer. In other words, while we believe in the American Dream (that anyone can make it if they are talented and try hard enough), for most people this "dream" evaporates when they wake up. Either they aren't actually talented, or their efforts are insufficiently zealous, or "the man" is just too strong. Because while there is little in life as temporarily exciting as dunking someone in a booth, the thrill is ephemeral and once past is hard to recall. And the next day the roles are once again reversed.

The world is a complicated place, and life isn't always what it seems. That's why something as seemingly simple as a dunking booth is in many cases a meaningful symbol of how things really are.

Sports Axioms

2010-09-26T11:50:00.000-07:00

Any sports fan is sure to be aware of certain truisms, or axioms that announcers, coaches and athletes repeat over and over again. These tend to make up sort of a "conventional wisdom" and to my knowledge they are rarely questioned. But sometimes they don't make much sense. Here are my thoughts on a few of these axioms. Maybe you can think of more?

1) "Don't Make The First or Third Out of an Inning at Third Base" (Baseball): There isn't a single baseball announcer who doesn't excoriate somebody for violating this rule at least once per week. Literally. As I am writing this, watching the Phillies play the Mets, New York shortstop Jose Reyes just got thrown out stealing third for the first out of an inning. The Phils announcers both called it a "dumb" play, the "kind of play this guy makes all the time that doesn't make any sense". And in fact, in this case Reyes' blunder cost his team a run. The current issue of Sports Illustrated notes that free agent to be Carl Crawford may have harmed his chances of signing with the Yankees by being thrown out on a steal of third to end a game recently.

There are lots of reasons why you wouldn't want to violate this rule. A player at second base is in scoring position on most hits to the outfield, so there is little practical advantage to being on third rather than second, and with only a limited number of outs in a game, one doesn't want to take too many risks. But whenever I hear this rule, the following question comes to mind:

"Why is it OK to make the second out at third base?"

I mean, really. The implicit statement here is that you are selfish, or stupid or both if you make the first or third out at third base. But if you try to stretch a double or tag up on a deep fly or try to steal and get gunned down for the second out you are a hustling player trying to make something happen. This seems contradictory at best and confusing at worst. All I know is, when I am coaching third base for my softball team, I don't want anyone to make ANY outs at third base.

2) "You Can't Lose Your Job Due To Injury" (NFL): All my life I've always heard this one. Announcers and coaches always tell us that players who are injured will slide back into their starting role once they recover. Despite the fact that there are obvious examples of violating this (such as when Tom Brady replaced a hurt Drew "Tempestt" Bledsoe for the 2001 Patriots in game 3, and led them all the way to victory in the Super Bowl). Despite that shining example, we are always told that this is an "unwritten rule".

So it made it strange this week to see Eagles coach Andy Reid announce that ex-felon Michael Vick would move from backup to starter (for week 3 and the rest of the season) to replace Kevin Kolb, who suffered a concussion in game 1. Kolb was annointed the Iggles QB of the future when they drafted him in the first round three years ago. When Philadelphia traded future Hall of Fame QB Donovan McNabb to division rival Washington on Easter Sunday, the word was that the Kevin Kolb era had begun. Kolb looked bad all preseason, and was terrible in game 1 before getting his head slammed to the ground. (Which makes me wonder if "turf toe" is a legitimate injury, did Kolb have "turf tongue"?)

Vick was outstanding in relief of Kolb in game 1, and played very well in game 2. As a former All-Pro QB, he is more than ready to take the reins. But Kolb was cleared by his doctor to return to the field. Why should he lose his job? Andy Reid says it is not Kolb's fault, but Vick is "playing out of his mind right now". Does that mean that if he stops excelling Kolb will come back? Does it mean that Kolb didn't lose his job to injury, but instead to a lack of skill? Anyway this seems very confusing.

On a similar note, while many people have been angry at the Eagles for their efforts to rehabilitate Vick, Philly fans are mostly interested in a winning team. When convicted felons (or serially accused, never tried abusers like Ben Roethlisberger) return to the field they are often booed--until they make their first big play. Believe me: if Michael Vick wound up a Cleveland Brown, every member of the "Dawg Pound" would be wearing #7 jerseys.

Everything I Ever Needed To Know I Learned From Pro Wrestling (Pt. 1)

2010-09-26T11:16:00.000-07:00

Even though people are usually quite surprised to hear me say this, I am a devoted fan of professional wrestling, and I have been for decades. As a boy growing up in the Philadelphia area I used to watch WWWF (precursor to WWF/WWE) wrestling on the local channels. When we got cable in 1981 I suddenly had access to occasional big shows at the Philadelphia Spectrum (no longer in existence) on PRISM cable (no longer in existence--boy am I old!) as well as NWA (precursor to WCW--both no longer in existence) wrestling from Georgia on WTBS. When I was young the Philadelphia Bulletin (you guessed it--long gone) used to print summaries of WWF cards in the sports section by the baseball boxscores.

One of my earliest memories is of the good guy (technical term: "babyface") tag team of Tony Garea and Rick Martel being robbed of the World Title by the bad guy ("heel") team of Mr. Fuji and Mr. Saito. The Japanese heels began each match by doing a Shinto ritual with salt to sanctify the ring. When Rick Martel went to the top rope to put the finisher on Mr. Saito, Mr. Fuji pulled the original Pearl Harbor job and threw salt in Martel's eyes. That match took place on October 17, 1981, and I can still see him falling to the mat in agony and getting pinned 1-2-3.

I will confess that for a number of years (basically 1990-95) I tuned out pro wrestling. I was one of those people who thought it was "fake". But in the mid-1990's, around the time that WWE empressario Vince McMahon announced that wrestling was "sports entertainment" (to avoid having to have wrestlers be tested for steroids and other drugs by state boxing commissions) I realized that I have no problem with matches that have pre-determined endings. I mean, the thing I love about sports is the drama inherent in a weak team being able to vanquish a strong one. But I don't watch wrestling for the results, I watch it for the path the grapplers take to get there.

I plan to write a recurring series of posts about what I like about wrestling and what it can teach us about life. I look forward to your comments.

How to Make The Major Leagues

2010-08-28T00:00:00.000-07:00

For many years now I have known the secret to making it as a player in Major League Baseball. In fact, this secret is so potent that I actually believe that it could be the key to creating the first woman big leaguer. I've kept this under wraps for quite some time, hoping to use it myself, but in the spirit of sharing I've decided to go public.

Obviously there are certain things that will help a player achieve success in baseball. You could be a genetic freak like Barry Bonds (son of former star Bobby Bonds and cousin of Hall of Famer Reggie Jackson) or Ken Griffey, Jr. (whose father was a key member of the 1970's "Big Red Machine" Cincinnati Reds). You could work hard to overcome size and speed limitations, like Pete Rose, David Eckstein, or my boyhood hero Larry Bowa. Regardless of which route you take, it is expected that a future pro will hit thousands of balls each year, practice fielding for hours every day and follow a detailed workout and diet regimen.

Or you could do it my way...

According to HowManyofMe.com, there are 44,385 people named John Smith in America. This is unquestionably a popular name. Since 1876, three people with this name have played major league baseball. According to the same source, there are 50 people named Ethan Lewis at this point in time (we are a rare breed), and nobody with my name has ever played in the bigs. The website also reveals that there are only 17 people in America named "Steve Ontiveros". With such a miniscule number of people, it would be natural to assume that no Steve Ontiveros ever made the Show. But that would be wrong. From 1973-2000, TWO DIFFERENT MEN calling themselves "Steve Ontiveros" played in the majors.

The first Steve Ontiveros (SO1) played 8 seasons for the Giants and Cubs from 1973-1980. This Steve Ontiveros was a third baseman and utility player with a weedy mustache and a thin build. He was born in 1951 in Bakersfield, California. I remember him from when I was young, but he didn't stand out in any particular way. I mean, it's not like the 9 year old me had an epiphany about the significance of Steve Ontiveros. No. That came later...

The second Steve Ontiveros (SO2) to make the majors pitched 10 seasons for the A's, Phillies, Mariners and Red Sox between 1985 and 2000, earning approximately $2 million for a 34-31 record and an ERA of 3.67. This Steve Ontiveros was a right handed pitcher with a weedy mustace and a thin build. When he first showed up on the scene, I thought it was a miraculous late-career position switch for SO1. Even when I saw him on tv, I thought it was the same guy (just with different facial hair). But soon I learned that SO2 was born in 1961 in Tularosa, New Mexico. That was when I realized the key:

If you are named "Steve Ontiveros" you will make the major leagues!

If my wife and I ever have children, I wil change my last name to "Ontiveros" immediately. Clearly naming a son "Steven" or and this is key a girl "Stephanie" is a must (obviously her nickname of "Stevie" will be on her baseball card). Or, you could scour the various state departments of youth services and try to find a foster child already named "Steve Ontiveros". Then all you need to do is buy the kid a glove and a bat and call some scouts. The rest will take care of itself. Remember, SO2 became a millionaire despite a very hittable fastball. In today's big money game, imagine what SO3 could earn. It goes beyond the dreams of avarice. So good luck, Mr. or Ms. Ontiveros. I look forward to watching your career!

RIP SRV

2010-08-27T14:44:00.000-07:00


The late Stevie Ray Vaughan

Twenty years ago today, I woke up early to find the radio playing a song by Stevie Ray Vaughan. "Pretty cool", I thought. I really liked SRV, to the point of having sold two guitars to pay for a Fender Stratocaster that summer, mainly based on the fact that Stevie and Eric Clapton (two of my main influences on the instrument) played one. The station followed that by playing another song by Stevie Ray. "Awesome! A double shot Monday" was my natural thought. Then the DJ announced that there had been a helicopter crash early in the morning in Wisconsin, and that Stevie Ray Vaughan was dead at the age of 36. The impact of his early, unexpected demise reverberated around the world, and I, for one, am still somewhat in shock.

Stevie Ray Vaughan grew up in Dallas, Texas and became a guitar player due to the influence of his brother, Jimmie Vaughan, a very successful musician who eventually went on to a great career with groups such as the Fabulous Thunderbirds, and as a solo artist (the brothers occasionally played together, as well). After playing for years in Texas blues bands, SRV's talents drew him greater attention. His style was heavily influenced by guitar giants such as Albert King, Jimi Hendrix, Buddy Guy and Kenny Burrell. Stevie's band, Double Trouble (named after a song by Chicago bluesman Otis Rush) began to play before larger audiences. Around this time, Nile Rodgers, who was producing David Bowie's album Let's Dance recruited SRV to play lead guitar on the record. Popular songs like the title track, or "China Girl" are typical Bowie numbers, but then these bluesy guitar solos drop in as if from outer space, and that's Stevie. Around this time songwriter Jackson Browne invited Double Trouble to his studio to record their first LP, Texas Flood. Many consider that this record and the ensuing albums Couldn't Stand The Weather, Soul to Soul, and In Step (which won a Grammy) were rare lights in the darkness of 80's synth-pop. It is unquestionable that Stevie Ray Vaughan's popularity helped bring some older bluesmen out of the wilderness and gave them greater exposure (especially to white people like me). SRV often played in public with Albert King and Buddy Guy (who was on the bill at the final concert) and loudly proclaimed his debts to the older generation.

One of the biggest tragedies of SRV's death was not just that he left so much unrecorded music in his short life, but that he died just as he began to get his life together again after years of drug and alcohol abuse. Stevie disappeared from the scene in the late 80's when his addictions got the best of him, but he emerged from seclusion in 1989 with a triumphant tour with guitar legend Jeff Beck. Friends of mine asked me if I wanted to go see the show in Foxboro, MA, but I was a poor college student and didn't want to spring for the ticket, feeling that I would have plenty of time to see them later. It is one of my major regrets...

Stevie's last album, In Step (1989), was a brilliant album filled with rollicking blues, Buddy Guy songs, and beautifully soulful tunes. I remember driving with a friend when the song "Crossfire" came on the radio, and I thought "is that Albert King?" before realizing that Stevie had returned. On his final concert tour he would take time to rap with the audience during his song "Life Without You" about his recovery, and for the need of everyone to overcome the demons that hold us back.

Stevie Ray Vaughan played his last show as part of an all-star appearance at Eric Clapton's concert in Alpine Valley, Wisconsin. He shared the stage with Clapton, his brother Jimmie, Buddy Guy and Robert Cray, finishing with a rousing "Sweet Home Chicago". By all accounts Stevie played his best that night. After the show the artists and crew boarded four helicopters to fly back to Chicaco; three made it back, but the one bearing SRV (as well as Clapton's tour manager and other associates) got lost in the fog and crashed into a ski slope, killing all aboard.

There are lots of Stevie Ray Vaughan videos on YouTube. Do yourself a favor and check them out sometime. His passion, virtuosity and joyfulness are evident to me in every note he plays. I have a framed print of SRV hanging over my guitar collection and I look at it all the time when I play. Though thankful for all that he left behind, twenty years on, I still miss him. Rest in Peace, Stevie.

Who is Icarus P. Anybody?

2010-08-24T17:26:00.000-07:00

When the Sassy Librarian suggested that I start a blog, I naturally planned to name it Ethan Lewis' Blog. After all, my website is www.ethanlewis.org, the online forum for my history class is ethanlewis.ning.com and I feel like it is a nice brand identity. But then I was told that "Ethan Lewis is boring. Think of something interesting."

So I began trying to brainstorm names of blogs. "Blog Horn" and "My Librarian Is Sassier Than Yours" quickly went by the wayside. "30 Minutes Or Your Pizza's Free" was an early favorite. But then I thought that I'd like to have a reference to one of my favorite movies. Unfortunately, I'm not blessed at remembering movie dialogue except for some rare cases. Basically I have memorized just about every line from The Godfather, The Godfather Part II, The Adventures of Robin Hood, and This is Spinal Tap. An eclectic mix! Rather than picking a quote from a film, I decided that I'd like to veer a bit off the beaten path, and choose a song title by Spinal Tap.

Spinal Tap has been very influential to me. Ever since my first year of college, when I was a member of a band (Bräinhämmer) that pretended to be German heavy metalists and whose main influences were TIST and The Hammer of the Gods: The Led Zeppelin Story (a sensationalist bio of the mighty Zep by Stephen Davis). Later another of my bands (The Trouser Helpers) derived their name from a throwaway line by David St. Hubbins on the Arsenio Hall show. Since then I have gone so far as to decorate my office with a vintage TIST movie poster and action figures. In choosing a name, I relied on one of the all-time greatest websites, the Spinal Tap Fan Site, by Chip Rowe. Rowe is an interesting guy, who is an expert on Spinal Tap, as demonstrated in his book Spinal Tap A to Zed. Rowe has combed the movie, subsequent articles, tv appearances and other sources to compile the everything anyone needs to know about Tap. But when I started looking at the titles, I realized that many probably wouldn't work:

"The Sun Never Sweats"--too warm
"Saliva of the Fittest"--too wet, plus I am working on a song of that name
"Nice n' Stinky"--too smelly
"Young, Smug and Famous"--unfortunately I am none of those things.

And then I found it. My "Eureka" moment! A deep track on Tap's psychedelic album "We Are All Flower People", the epic "The Incredible Flight Of Icarus P. Anybody". I knew then, that I had found my muse.

After graduating college I spent a year writing humorous sports columns for the now defunct Northampton, MA College Optimist under the nom de plume "The Crank In The Stands". You can read highlights of the Crank's rants here. But the Crank is too negative for the 21st century. So now I am pleased to work with the alter ego of Icarus P. Anybody, who strikes me as an optimistic, adventurous Every-person. I look forward to seeing what he has to say!

Seeking a refuge from Scrabble.

2010-08-24T16:35:00.000-07:00

I needed a healthy outlet for my time and energy. As a schoolteacher, I am blessed with long vacations and summers off, but unfortunately I have misspent my free time. You see, I am a Scrabble addict. Specifically, I get obsessed with playing games on the Internet Scrabble Club site. You may have played Scrabble--it's the crossword game where you make words that link with other words. It is very fun, and I am pretty good at it. But what I really like is the adrenaline rush, you see, I play games where each player only gets 3 minutes for the whole game. As a result I can play LOTS of games in a short space of time. During the period from June through late August 2010, I played over 1100 games. Since 2003 I've played over 11,000 games. I estimate that this adds up to about two full months of my life spent playing Scrabble.

I had some high points this summer--my fifth game of 500 or more points, a "bingo" (seven letter word) of 216 points ("quizzers"), and establishing a personal record rating of 1520. But unfortunately the game kind of took over. For weeks I dreamed of playing Scrabble. Whenever I had a spare moment I ran to the computer to get the rush of playing a fast game. Ultimately, I realized I had a problem.

That's when my wife suggested that as a substitute for Scrabble I could try blogging. At first I thought "what do I have to write about, that anyone would be interested in?" But then I figured it was worth a shot. I am interested in some esoteric topics, and I'll write about all of them on this site. Some examples include (in alphabetical order):

Baseball
Guitar
Media Criticism
Movies and TV
Music
Politics
Professional Wrestling

I'll also review and link to articles and blogs that I find in my perambulations on the web, and hopefully spark discussions about topics of mutual interest.

I hope you find this interesting. And now, on with the show!