My Ghosts

                                                      
 I'm not sure I believe in life after death BUT I do believe in ghosts. I've known a few. Some are those who I knew before they passed but most are just ghosts - beings, if you will, that I didn't know in life, that is, their life. Maybe I did know them and either they have not made this clear to me as yet OR I knew them in another life. Which brings up another issue - I'm not sure I believe in reincarnation.

I know it is odd. How can I believe in ghosts and, yet, be uncertain of life after death and reincarnation? Well, there it is. It is how I feel. I truly want to believe in the great beyond. Who doesn't? An eternity of nothingness scares me more than taking up residence in hell. However, I do not rule it out. I am hoping there is something more. Maybe my ghosts can convince me that there is more after we depart this good earth.

Let me state emphatically that I am not or have I ever been afraid of my ghosts or anyone else's for that matter. They can boo all they want. Actually, none of my ghosts have ever booed. Where does that come from? Even Casper didn't boo. Plus, I believe a ghost cannot really physically hurt you. They are a little unsettling I will admit and do take some getting use to. But my experience tells me most ghosts either want to connect or just want to hang around a familiar place or person.

                                                       
My first ghost appeared to me when I was about 6 or 7. I had a sprained arm inflicted upon me by Mrs. Topinko. She dragged me by my - was it my left arm? - to my house from her's across the street to confront my mother. Mrs. T had caught me picking tulips from her precious garden. I don't remember much else about that incident except that by day's end I had a small cast on my arm. However, what I do remember WELL was that night in my bedroom. I woke to see a beautiful lady glowing in the far corner of my bedroom who I perceived to be the Blessed Virgin Mary. Well, she was garbed all in veils and flowing fabrics of white and blue - looking just like the holy pictures we got at school from the nuns. I was so excited. I screamed for my parents and they came running. The odd thing although it didn't seem odd to a young Catholic boy at the time - the odd thing was that my arm was healed. I'm telling the truth so stop rolling your eyes. All I know is, at this young young age, I was a happy convinced Catholic eager to believe all I was taught at church and school. Catholicism is great fun for the young with all the saints and miracles and fantastic stories. My head was freshly filled with these stories and I, like many Catholics, loved the Virgin Mary so much - more than any other saint or deity. She was the only one I loved more than Saint Anthony. Anyway, I was sure my apparition was Mary.

                                                 
My next ghost appeared decades later in apartment 16G in Manhattan. I was home alone with a darkened room, a lit candle and a Ouija board I found earlier that day discarded in a city trash can on 9th avenue. A friend had died recently. He was the first person I was ever close to around my age at the time which was YOUNG - my first death of a friend.  So, I got stupid and tried to conjure him up with the help of the board from the garbage -  AND I DID. It wasn't pretty and I learned absolutely nothing from the experience except that an untimely death does not look good. It didn't scare me -  this unpleasant experience BUT it did prompt me to return that Ouija board to its 9th avenue bin.

                                                         
Then there are the visits from loved ones - mothers, fathers -  in dreams that are so lucid. I don't know if these qualify as hauntings but whatever they are - were - they are welcome and have mostly been warm and fuzzy experiences.

What about the things that happen the very day a person dies. Lights flickering, voices heard, music playing, radios turning on, light beams bouncing off or hovering near mourners. Are these ghosts, too?

Are ghosts just our minds willing their appearance. Do we long so much to conquer life's greatest mystery by producing ghosts, apparitions and even the occasional miracle through the power of  sheer human charge?

                                                     
I do have a ghost with no friend or familial connection. He is currently "living" in my house - basically the front of the house - the piano room. He is around 12 years old and sings - a sweet soprano voice. We - yes WE, because, Glenn has admitted to hearing him - we can hear him sing only when he feels he is alone. This mean, when we come home - as we enter the back door, we hear him sing - sounds like a vocalise - in the front room - the music room as it were.

I even know what he looks like.  He is around 12 years old with yellow hair falling on a cherubic face clothed in a light brown Victorian suit with a white shirt of small ruffles. He looks very much like a singer to be sure. He is not of this house, I do believe. You see, I brought him into this house soon after I bought it. People say he looks like me when I was a child. I can see that.

Having fun at an antique mall on Saturday afternoon buying things for my new old house, I was drawn to a small painting of a little boy softly looking - at me? Like a puppy in a kennel eager to be adopted, this boy in the painting seemed to urge me to buy him. So I did. I brought him home -  hung him near the staircase in the piano room and went on with my day. Glenn and I went out again. I don't remember where - perhaps to eat. Anyway, on our return that early evening, it was the first time we heard the singing. When it was apparent we were home - what with doors closing and conversation and exclamations like "Did you hear that? Some one's singing. Did you leave the radio on? TV? No. No." With all this 'commotion" the singing stopped. I immediately attributed it to the painting.

                                                    
We have heard the boy in the painting sing his song for many years now - not frequently - but we hear. Now, every once in a while, he will sing even when we are obvioiusly home - although only if we are not in the piano room.  It is not scary. It is, I don't know - OK - yes - OK - quite OK. Funny, but we have never named the boy. It wouldn't be right. He probably had - has a name. I wouldn't want to confuse him. After all, I don't think he knows he is dead.

                                                             
I feel ghosts are people who have not completed their act of death. Once they completely die, they will cease to be ghosts. They will simply cease to be. And maybe that is why they hang on - haunt - to avoid that final curtain.

                                                          

Dangling Melodies

                                                              
Having been classically trained on the piano, voice and theory, I think it has made me intolerant of popular music. For those regular readers of my blog, you all know I have very eclectic tastes. Geez, I love all genres. But I just cannot abide dumb music. I wonder why so very frequently dumb music charts so high. Why? Are people less challenged today or do they resist challenge? Have we become a nation of dumb asses. Now, I'm not talking about the occasional silly song that catches the nations interest. They can be fun as these silly songs tend to smartly satirize current trends in fashion, thinking and even music. Remember 'Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini?"  Fun, right? Silly as hell but not dumb. Remember "Having My Baby" - dumb dumb dumb OR how about "Yummy Yummy Yummy I Got Love In My Tummy - okay - funny BUT dumb dumb dumb!

Time marches on. 2013

As melody diminishes in pop music so do the lyrics. Most pop songs I have noticed of late have one line of melody that is repeated throughout the song and never reaches a resolution. Its kind of like an unfinished song. I think of that horrible "Girl On Fire" that also doesn't utilize too many lyrics except repetition of the title with repetition of the one line of melody.

I am reminded of that story I read when I was a child. It always haunted me. Its about a boy who likes playing the piano but hates to practice. So he works on a song but never completes playing it -  being eager to go out and play instead. So he leaves the notes dangling in the air and the melody unresolved. I forget how the story works itself out or what happens to the boy. I supposed it was meant to be some kind of lesson for the naughty boy. But the idea of notes just dangling in the air without ever being resolved in a chord or flourish of arpeggios is spooky. Well, it was for me as a kid. The music notes left hovering without a final chord haunted the boy like a pack of ghosts. In my sweet innocence, it made me a more conscientious student of the piano.

                                                   
So it seems Paul McCartney was prophetic when he sang 'Silly Love Songs" They are here to stay as the world dumbs down another increment until we will be left with a tone - one tone and a grunt.

Lyrics to the Number 1 song in itunes Today 2/20/2013

                                      
Harlem Shake

Con los terroristas
Ey Shake
Ey Shake
Ey, Ey, Ey, Ey
Shake, Ta. Ta
And do the Harlem Shake
Ey Shake, Ey

Shake, Shake
Ey
Shake, Shake, Shake
Con los terroristas
Ey, Con los terroristas
Ey, Ey

Lyrics to the Number 1 song 2/20/1913

                                                  

When I Lost You

I lost the sunshine and roses, I lost the heavens of blue,
I lost the beautiful rainbow, I lost the morning dew.
I lost the angel who gave me summer, the whole winter too.
I lost the gladness that turned into sadness,
When I lost you.
And I lost the angel who gave me summer, the whole winter too.
I lost the gladness that turned into sadness,
When I lost you.

What a difference 100 years made.

Can't Stop The Music

                                                       
What do you think the next big format for music will be? We had cylinders, vinyl(records), tape - cassette, 8 track, Cd's, mp3 - is downloading the last frontier?  I see a future where we get a chip in our - I don't know - head? - and we just think what we want to hear and abracadabra - we hear it. That, however, doesn't address the issue of how we can broadcast the music outside the privacy of our heads - fill the room with music.

Actually, this isn't what I wanted to write about. Clearly, I haven't thought any of this through properly. What prompted this post is my recent project. In my upstairs cave where I allow myself to dwell like a college student - messy, cluttered with all the things I love and cannot throw out, my computers, Cd's overflowing -  AND what started this post - my huge cassette collection which I have not played for years.
                                                              
I loved the cassette. It was the first portable format. I still have my beautiful Sony Walkman and it works even though I have not played it for years as well. But for the past week I have been playing my cassettes - many of which did not make it into a CD upgrade. I am getting a huge kick out of the mixed tapes. Remember those? Remember making all those mixes for friends and lovers. It was very time consuming but so much fun. Younger music lovers wouldn't understand. Today it is so easy to do a mixed CD. I mean, of course, I prefer it BUT I just choke up over some of my tapes - especially those made by others offered to me.

                                                         
The cassettes are basically from the 1980's. I've been listening to artists I rarely think about today. It has been great hearing Laura Nyro, Little River Band, Hall & Oats, Linda Ronstadt, Lakme, The Beatles, Maureen McGovern, The Supremes and on and on. I have had some laughs along the way. A mixed tape from my niece, Debbie, begins and ends with 'Can't Touch That" - MC Hammer!! The tracks sandwiched between Hammer are very nice - power ballads were the order of the day in the 80's. Having MC Hammer in the mix just made my day.

                                                              
I've just begun to listen to this huge collection. Lots of great music, bad music and laughs to come I suspect. Like my CD collection - which is also enormous - I have the cassettes arranged in categories such as vocals, groups, jazz, Broadway, classical, spoken word and then -  the coveted mixed tapes.

                                                     

THE ADVENTURE CONTINUES..............

The Grammy Rap

                                                      

Every so many decades popular music presents the world with new expressions - mostly geared to the young. Why this is, I do not know. I love music in all its expressions and consider myself very open to it all. This doesn't mean I'm a push over. I will not thumbs up music I don't like just to be "cool" I mean, kids still say that, yes? Cool?

                                                

The Grammy's broadcast the other night reminded me how narrow pop music purveyors are these days. So much of what I saw and heard on this telecast was quite substandard and yet the audience of mostly industry people gave numerous standing ovations. Taylor Swift is just plain AWFUL. All her songs are about breaking up with guys. Yet, watching her last night, she seemed to be having a great time. I don't think all those break ups she sings about is upsetting her all that much. My generation used to have a term for her brand of music - "bubble gum music" - meaning for the tweens and teens. So, fair enough. Taylor supplies a service to the Wrigley set. But she is AWFUL!

I rather liked FUN, Justin Timberlake, the Marley tribute with Bruno Mars, Sting and the rest,The Black Keys and especially Jack White.

                                                   

That said, there was a lot of flat singing especially from Frank Ocean and that stupid song about Forest Gump! He seems a sweet guy and I know he is making waves sort of. But waves do tend to collapse once they reach shore AND he certainly doesn't come off like a Tsunami.

My other beef with the Grammys is the utter disregard for other forms - superior forms of music that have large enough audiences to warrant attention. They threw us a bone with the short uninspired Brubeck bit. What about the great jazz vocalists doing quite well out there like Kurt Elling and Jane Monheit. Legendary Bonnie Raitt received her award somehow, somewhere, sometime before the telecast as do countless others - Broadway cast album, classical, opera, Latin, soundtracks - so much more. You'd think American music was just the light uncomplicated pablum we saw last night.

A word about rap. I have been saying for decades how much I hate rap.That it really isn't music blah blah blah. I have to amend that opinion. Actually I have to totally change it and qualify it. You see, after watching LL Cool J - don't you just love rappers names - anyway, watching his closing performance made me realize that I would probably like rap if I could just make out the words. After all, isn't it about the words - urban poetry and all that. Rap isn't all that new. When did it catch hold? Was it the 1980's? Listen to Gilbert & Sullivan, Cab Calloway, Lerner & Loewe and even Stephen Sondheim. G&S called it patter songs. Calloway called it scat. L&L called it talk singing. Sondheim conceded to rap - Witches Rap "Into The Woods" - not quite urban. BUT I understand these guys and very much like their "raps" I'd like to make the effort with the present day form.I know that much of what I have seen on these music award shows were fun, energetic, rhythmic, very inventive and entertaining - made me feel good.

                                                    

I  am one of those guys who really likes all forms, categories of music. I just have standards. My one prevailing standard is that what I hear, experience be good -  oh, and I must like it.

The truth is - because I may not like a song, a genre, a performer does not mean they are no good, worthless etc. It just means I don't like it. So, enjoy!

ONCE A STAR

                                                         
Once a star always a star. Of course, this isn't always true. Remember Phoebe Cates, Susan Blakely, Peter Strauss? Their lack of staying power has nothing to do with their talent. Perhaps bad choices for movies, TV, Broadway. Perhaps their star didn't shine as bright as Meryl Streep's. I love stars like Meryl Streep, by the way, because not only does she shimmer the way a screen star should BUT she is also a great artist. I mean there are stars like Stallone and Schwarzenegger who obviously lack art. They eventually wear out their welcome. Then there are stars who radiate heat vibrating with charisma and talent with a capital T even when they seemingly disappear from the limelight. Thanks to TCM for enshrining people like Bogart, Hephurn, Garland, Peck, Davis, Brando - I could go on forever. Then there are living legends who appear every now and again to honor us with their magic. One such deity is Sophia Loren. She is a Goddess. Not just because of her obvious physical beauty BUT for her brilliance as an actress. She is organic. She is breath itself.

Today we were snowed in - happily snowed in. When you are snowbound, so to speak, it sort of gives you the license to break daily habits and routines. You know, such as eating all the wrong but so very right things, watching too much television, napping right after breakfast, not shaving, staying in your pj's, baking - not me but Glenn - baking macadamia nut white chocolate cookies and an hour later baking a delicious cinnamon crumble cake. Then after this with total abandon you watch a movie you never heard of from 2002 that stars Sophia Loren - Sophia Loren - she still makes movies? She must be 100 years old! Then in the opening credits we learn that Edoardo Ponte is the director. Ponte? Oh, he's her son! So she's doing him a favor by being in his movie. Wrong! Wrong! She's doing us a favor.

Sophia Loren is a walking master class in cinematic acting. At 78 - not 100 - she is still beautiful, accessible and brilliant. The movie is "Between Strangers" Please seek it out. Tell me, after you have seen it, that Sophia Loren doesn't break your heart with the map of her face that tells the story of lost love, lost dreams and redemptive hope. I am still reeling from Sophia's aura.

The universe is almost done making stars! Once upon a time it produced a galaxy. Miss Sophia Loren is like the North Star - still with us - shining ever so brightly - when she chooses to, that is.

Some say actors are better today. This, I believe, is true. They are better - more real. Are stars better today. Nope - not one bit. Sophia Loren is a star but Sophia Loren is a great actress, too. We can't say that about too many working actors today. That term SUPERSTAR gets thrown around like ketchup these days. Please! What is a superstar? Who is a superstar? Well the names I can immediately come up with are either dead , old or on their way to both. We have Streep, Clint, Streisand - someday, Clooney, DiCaprio and , thank the Lord we still have SOPHIA LOREN!

Flacco & The Gladiators

                                                         


Watching football on television was never my thing. Long and tedious with annoying commentary, it seems the perfect couch potato endeavor - a very starchy pastime - pass the wings - another pepperoni slice. But give me a game like this recent Super Bowl and its Grand Theater approaching operatic heights. Flacco, Jacoby Jones, a power outage, Beyonce's burlesque, million dollar commercials and a nail biter finale added up to a theatrical event that would be the envy of Cameron Macintosh.

Now to break it down from the view point of a theater geek:

• The game in a word was SPECTACULAR!  I was rooting for the 49'ers but applauding the brilliance of the Ravens - not to say that San Fran wasn't brilliant - their 2nd half performance almost took it away - but, geez, Jones' 108 yard kickoff return was amazing!
• Beyonce was pretty ridiculous. Back in the day you'd pay 2 bits to see what they used to call exotic dancers do what she does. Exotic dancers were strippers who kept their clothes on - barely - no pun intended. Half time was half baked time.
• The power outage may have hurt the Ravens in terms of momentum BUT it was such an interesting element to an already dramatic evening in New Orleans.
• The commercials were lame but fun because of their lameness. Who doesn't like to sit around at home judging? However, I did fancy the Joe Montana stain commercial - a great send up of those stories you see on the news every now and then - you know, the ones where some nut swears they can see Jesus' image in a potato chip.
• But, for me the Super Bowl experience that had my heart racing as if I were watching "Jaws" for the very first time was the last 4 seconds. Having been made a believer by now, I was so sure the 49'ers would pull it off. Shows you just how much I really know about football.

 Super Bowl 2013 was great theater - an exciting game that transcended for me my indifference to football and most specifically to the over blown, over produced, over hyped annual Super Bowl. I just may tune in next February 2014. Hey, maybe they'll get Nikki Minaj for half time.

Part 3 - A GOOD LIFE - All's Well That Is Well

                                                              

Today, something wonderful happened. We were in a coffee shop taking a break from errands and shopping. It has been a strange day really - snowy, chilly - but productive. Glenn and I were in very talkative moods - just yakking away about everything that entered our minds - a stream of consciousness conversation. When we settled at the coffee shop we fell comfortably silent enjoying the dark roast coffee and freshly baked bear claws.

 

Then clear as an angel's bell, Glenn said ‘We have a good life.”

 

It took my breath away. I mean, I get so caught up in me. It took me totally by surprise. And what does he mean we have a good life. It means Glenn is happy. And that makes me over the moon happy. I do have a good life. I’m not young anymore. I’m no longer the cute cute guy everybody wanted. I didn’t realize my dream of being a famous singer. My biological family have long become strangers. Yet, I have a good life. I am free in so many ways. Isn’t that what we all want - to be free. I’m getting there. Glenn’s soft proclamation ‘We have a good life” has truly set me free. No life is without sorrow and regret, missteps and wrong turns. No one on earth is exempt. I accept my good life and to hell with the rest!