September Eleven Eleven

Some brief musings on the day, today and ten years ago....
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On September 11 2001, I drove to work on a gently warm, cloudless sunny day... a morning just like this one... I heard on the radio about an accident that occurred in New York...a plane had crashed into one of the Twin Towers.... At the office, everyone was abuzz with trepidation...  we went into the break room to watch on TV what was unfolding.... Our boss was clueless, and forced everyone back to work...As the implications became clear, and some of us were able to find the news on our desk computers, little work got done that day.... 

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When you live near a major airport, you begin not to notice the almost constant rumble of planes flying in various altitudes overhead...That afternoon, and for several days after that, planes stopped flying, and the noise stopped... It was more silent than I could ever remember, a deathly quiet....

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I recall feeling like I knew nothing of a world that was suddenly very menacing... I knew I could not help change a world I didn't understand... So, I began reading, again, in earnest....

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It is noon as I write this.  They are playing taps across America.  We hear it from the television broadcast at Soldier Field, as the Chicago Bears began their season.  A 100-yard-long American Flag is unfurled across the field. A deafening roar of the crowd while tenor Jim Cornelison sings the Star Spangled Banner.

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Hollywood and 9/11:  A few days ago I read a Huffington Post essay by New York journalist Saki Knafo (Filming the Unfilmable: Hollywood's Attempts To Chronicle 9/11).


It occurred to me that the late Robert Altman might have been the ideal filmmaker to make the definitive 9/11 movie. His collaborative style of filmmaking, his painterly directorial eye, and his skill with large casts would have allowed him to treat the politically controversial subject matter, and catastrophe, through interlocking human stories.   He would have done this with respect, and with wry observation, without dogma, and would have built his scenario to a stunning conclusion.


And then it hit me with a jolt that Altman already made his 9/11 movie---"Nashville".  Although released in 1975, decades before 9/11; and though it took place, not in New York, but in the American South; still, his uniquely American story of politics and pop culture was politically and emotionally prescient. 

The finale at the Parthenon was like a microcosm of the shattering disaster that occurred twenty-six years later. The scene, in which a shocking incident is followed by the reaction of a crowd, is profound in its simple ambiguity, and is at once inspiring, chilling, infuriating, and exhilarating....


Americans responding to tragedy: resilient? misguided?  Watching "Nashville" today, Altman's orchestration and observation of human behavior applies in a strangely prophetic way to 9/11.





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San Francisco Opera presented the World Premiere of "Heart of  a Soldier" to commemorate a tragic hero of the day of the attack.

The opera tells the story of Rick Rescorla, "a British-born adventurer who fought in Vietnam before settling in New York as head of security for a brokerage firm based in the World Trade Center. On 9/11... his extraordinary courage and calmness in a crisis paid off: Rescorla led all of the 2,700 people under his care to safety—literally singing them down the stairs—before heading back into the burning building for one last check. He never emerged."

The opera stars renowned American baritone Thomas Hampson.

NPR recently interviewed Rescorla's widow Susan, who related the bittersweet story about how she and Rick found each other after their respective marriages had failed. Both in their 50's, they discovered in each other the love of their lives.

Maybe small, human stories are the most effective way to make sense of what happened in 2001. 

Opera + Puppets = A Unique Attraction

Next week I am departing for Italy, home of some of the world's best and most famous Operas. 

So it's a funny coincidence that I just became aware of an unusual, 50-year-old opera theater, unique in the entire world, right in my own back yard.

While visiting a local Performing Arts Center for a Business Meeting, I picked up an Arts brochure and found a listing for Opera in Focus.  I had never heard of this theater, located just "next door" in the suburb of Rolling Meadows, Illinois.  I looked at the web site (click here for the performance repertoire), and found that it is an intricate puppetry performance, in which scenes from famous operas are carefully staged and delicately perfomed by special artists using specially-designed puppets that apparently don't exist anywhere else in the world.


And tonight, a local PBS program called Chicago Tonight offered a wonderful segment about this amazing and little-known art. 

William B. Fosser, who founded the theater in 1950, was a movie art director and set decorator, with films like "Home Alone", "Backdraft" and "Ordinary People" among his credits.  As a youngster he developed fascination with opera and obsession with puppetry.


Soon he developed intricate rod-puppets with such amazing detail of design and movement, that it remains one-of-a-kind in the world. 

Fosser, who died in 2006, expressed a wish that the puppets be destroyed if the theater ever closed down. His apprentices, Justin and Shayne Snyder, who joined Fosser in the early 1980's and now operate the 60-seat basement theater in a nondescript building of the Rolling Meadows Park District, admit that they could never destroy these amazing puppet-"performers".  So they hope to keep the tradition, and the theater, alive.

I can't believe I have missed this!  But I will rectify that life-error very soon.


Check out this extraordinary 9-minute video, which I found unexpectedly moving.  I'll be attending my first performance, after I return from the opera capital of the world. 

Boston Boxers; Operatic Cowboys; And Everywhere Snow...

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Short-takes on a snowbound evening, safe at the kitchen table as the wind howls outside...

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"The Fighter"

While watching "The Fighter" last weekend, I said to myself, "What a perfect movie for a Saturday matinee!" I had been avoiding seeing this one, thinking that it would be a retread of so many other boxing movies.  True, the film really didn't offer anything new, and the final sequence was right out of cliche-ville.  But on the whole I liked "The Fighter" more than I expected to.  It is entertaining and extremely well-made, with a story that is engineered for maximum crowd-pleasing.  I don't know that I would elevate this into any kind of award-winners' circle, but there is much to recommend to anyone looking for a fast-paced, character-driven true story. It's like spiced-up comfort food.

The true story of Irish Micky Ward's road to the welterweight championship, it's a sometimes exhilarating look at working-class Boston families, small-time crooks and addicts, neighborhood personalities and hangers-on, buoyed by a crackerjack  music track (SO good!) and some of the most inventive editing of the year (along with "Black Swan").  The film effectively focuses on Micky's well-meaning but destructive family, especially his mother and older half-brother Dicky Ecklund, and the usual love-interest with an intelligent and feisty bartender, well-played by Amy Adams.  On the downside, I am officially done with movies about quirky Boston working-class families, athletes, criminals, or geniuses.  And if I never see another film about boxing, that's fine too. 

I would have kept the film more in the realm of realism; but the movie goes soft near the end, and I often was confused by its tone, verging as it often does into cartoonishness in its depiction of Wards home life.

I am usually lukewarm about Mark Wahlberg; after "Boogie Nights" he failed to capture my interest (and that includes "The Departed").  I must say that I enjoyed his performance here more than I did anyone else in the cast besides Amy Adams (who I loved, as she did her Janis Joplin dry-run), and that includes the two highly-touted performances poised for top Hollywood accolades.

I watched in disbelief as Christian Bale mugged and chewed the scenery for the first twenty minutes. I realized that he was portraying a real-life loose-cannon and crack addict (former boxer Dicky Ecklund). But man, a little bit of him was going a LONG way; so it came as a relief that the script gave him a prison epiphany, a chance to clean up, become a nice guy, and save the day.  I can't fault Bale's performance; he transformed himself and finally won me over, even when the script lost its believability in the second half. There's a warmth hidden under the shtick, and toward the film's finale there's some coiled sexual heat and tender emotion welling just beneath the surface.

Melissa Leo not only chews the scenery, she swallows it, regurgitates it and chews it some more.  Once again, she more than meets the demands of the script as a headstrong mother and amateur manager to her son. But all too often she behaves like a Moe to seven Stooge-like daughters, and it was here that I had real trouble taking the movie seriously.  Her best scene is a shouting match with her ex-husband in their kitchen; and there's a strange and moving sequence in a car when she joins her wayward son Dicky in an old Bee Gees Tune, "I Started a Joke".  Here the movie tells us all we need to know about their mutually destructive relationship that survives out of love. 

The final title match is predictable, and everyone suddenly becomes lovable (the film actually cuts away before screen adversaries Leo and Adams hug each other after the final victory).  But in the spirit of action-filled, broadly-played and sharply-made family athlete sagas of old, "The Fighter" has earned its place among the best Saturday matinee films ever.

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"Girl of the Golden West"

Last Saturday Mark got us tickets to the Lyric Opera's production of Puccini's "Girl of the Golden West". Here was something truly unusual: a high opera, sung in Italian, about the California Gold Rush and the Old West.  The sets were of saloons and cabins in a snowy woods, and a miners railroad yard.

The opera does not have many well-known show-stoppers, or arias that have been popularized like "Carmen" or "La Boheme".  Still there was one recurring theme that sounded so much like a famous musical phrase in the Broadway musical "Phantom of the Opera" that I figured Mr. Puccini had been lightly plagiarized.

This opera was first performed in 1910, so it was great fun to see the Old West from the perspective of an Italian musician before the influence of Western movies. I suppose there were western dime-novels to draw from. 

Maybe the movies got their inspiration from this opera...how often have we seen the hero about to be hanged, only to have the noose shot and the victim fall to safety?  Puccini, I would imagine, had never seen this in a movie...maybe he invented this well-known western staple.

The cast was fine, especially Deborah Voigt as Minnie, the saloon owner with a heart of gold; Dick Johnson  as Ramerrez her secret lover; and the darkly sexy Marco Vratogna as Jack Rance, the Sheriff and villain.

It was a wonderful winter evening among a packed house, all of us retreating from the cold and reveling in a lighthearted and beautiful musical work evoking the American Western legend.

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We are in the middle of what's being called the worst blizzard in Chicago history.  I am not a fan of snow; but the College has already called and told me we are closed tomorrow; and so I will have an honest-to-goodness snow day. After a few hours clearing the 2-foot drifts from the driveway...it's playtime!  Quite a rough night on Lake Shore Drive though.....

 

Tagged For A Musical Meme!

Walter of The Silver Screening Room tagged me to participate in a musical meme, kind of an on-line interview on a particular topic.  I've been asked to answer a series of questions about the music in my life.  This exercise was great fun, and I fear I have responded in much too much detail...I humbly appreciate the invite! Thank you Walter...


[To those who have been exceedingly kind in promoting my blog, and had tagged me for creative recognition, especially Tom (Sophisticated Lunacy) and
Dave (Ultra Dave) I am forever in your debt.   I regret that I did not feel ready to follow through then....and I hope some day to earn the honor you have generously offered.  You are true mentors and blogging friends. 

And so I would like to tag both of you, Tom and Dave, to provide us your responses to this great survey.]

meme   Pronunciation: \ˈmēm\
Function: noun   Date: 1976
: an idea, behavior, style, or usage that spreads from person to person within a culture

And so, here are my responses to the series of questions about music in my life:


1. Open up your iTunes, music player, spin the CD, whatever, hit shuffle and tell us what is the first song to play?   From my new, in-development i-Tunes, the first "song" to pop up is "The Anvil Chorus" from Verdi's opera, "Il Trovatore".

2. Name your top five favorite bands/musicians of all time. So hard to narrow this down...and I fear I may lock myself into an era...but here goes: Joni Mitchell, Simon and Garfunkel, Crosby Stills Nash & Young, Gordon Lightfoot, and George Gershwin. (And there are about 50 runners-up).

3. What was your first CD to own? (8 track, record, CD, MP3 for the newbies) There are two I received as gifts at the same time: The Soundtrack from "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid", and The Carpenters "Close To You".   Vinyl, of course.

4. Of all the bands/artists in your cd/record collection, which one do you own the most albums by? Joni Mitchell...I have almost every recording she ever made, plus two concert DVD's.  She is a consummate artist, a poet, prolific and brave, and endlessly interesting.

 
5. What was the last song you listened to? "Hey Ya" by OutKast, just happened to be on the car radio as I was driving home from the gym this afternoon.  (I won't include "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" from "Women in Love", which I watched tonight on DVD.) 
6. What song would you say sums you up? No song is complex enough, funny enough, or dog-friendly enough.  One song that speaks most closely to my current philosophy is "Clouds (Both Sides Now)" by Joni Mitchell.

7. What's your favourite local band or band that originated from your hometown?  The band Chicago, of course. 

   




8. What's the greatest concert you've ever been to? Linda Ronstadt at the University of Iowa.

 
9. What musician would you like to hang out with for a day?  After Joni (of COURSE), I think Elton John, to talk to him about working on Billy Elliott.

10. What was the greatest decade for music?  Every decade had great music.  Mozart (1780-90) and Beethoven (1801-10) might raise this bar a bit....  In American pop culture, the '60's had the most interesting variety and evolution, plus it was a lot of fun....

11. What is your favorite movie soundtrack? Oh come ON!  So many to choose from, I will create sub-categories:

Classical: Amadeus; and John Corigliano's "The Red Violin"

Original dramatic score: Personal favorites are "The Best Years of Our Lives" by Hugo Friedhofer, and Philip Glass' "The Hours";   but my all-time favorite song written for a movie is "Moon River" from "Breakfast at Tiffany's".

Compilation: "A Clockwork Orange" features Electronic Beethoven and Purcell, Rossini's "Thieving Magpie", Pomp and Circumstance, and Gene Kelly's rendition of "Singin' in the Rain"---what a combination!
Favorite soundtrack of a musical: "West Side Story"

Most evocative of the emotional effect of a film: "Brokeback Mountain" can still bring me to tears.

12. What's the most awful CD/record/etc. you've ever bought? Mrs. Miller's Greatest Hits doesn't qualify, because it was a gift.  So, by far, the most awful CD I purchased was The Shaggs, "Philosophy of the World".  I heard the incredible (and sort of tragic) story of these three inept musical sisters on a radio program, and could not resist having a copy.  Read their story HERE  and listen below.... (sorry)

13. What's your favorite band t-shirt or poster?  I always loved the logo for the 1969 Woodstock festival...don't know if this technically qualifies, but I can bend the rules here a wee bit....




14. Rolling Stones or The Beatles? The Beatles....they had the more interesting musical evolution...each musician was fascinating...legendary....They had more versatile music with wider, universal appeal.




15. What is the one song you would most like played at your funeral? Your birthday? While on a romantic date?
Funeral: "Cabaret"
Birthday: "Downtown" by Petula Clark, and maybe dozens more!
Romantic date: Hmmm, I always got dreamy hearing Maria Muldaur's "Midnight at the Oasis"...or Chicago's "Wishing You Were Here"

And there you have it!  Thanks for coming along on my magical musical tour.

FICTION: "Lucia"--My entry in the NPR Contest

Although I listen to National Public Radio regularly, my schedule often causes me to miss some interesting programs. Thanks to the advice of a friend, I learned of a fiction-writing contest sponsored by NPR.  It was already the fourth in a series of "3-Minute Fiction" challenges, in which listeners were invted to submit short stories of no more than 600 words--or, those which could be read in three minutes.


The theme of this contest was "Little Words".  The stories had to contain the following four words: "plant"; "button", "trick", and "fly".  It was a terrific exercise and I submitted my story just under the deadline.


My story, "Lucia", was an amalgam of themes and recent images from my life: dogs, opera, old men, Italian, shelters;  all blended to produce a strange and humorous narrative, as in a dream.

It is a fun story, nothing profound or achingly beautiful, but it made me happy to write it, and to read it.

Entries are being read and sorted by students at the University of Iowa Writer's Workshop, and the selected stories are then sent to the final judge, author Ann Patchett (whose "Bel Canto" was an outstanding award-winning novel).  Winners and runners-up are announced in June.  I waited before posting this in order not to disqualify my story as having been previously "published".  But now, as entries are being read, and "favorites" are being posted on the NPR site (see link above), I felt comfortable in sharing it with you.


And so, if you have three minutes to spare...Enjoy!!


___________  _______________  ___________________

Lucia
Lucy, a small, melancholy Basset Hound, belonged to Luigi, the Old Italian who ran the produce stand. Soon after Luigi died quietly in his sleep, his neighbor brought Lucy to the animal shelter where I volunteered, and explained that the poor dog now needed our care. Luigi left no will, and had no heirs outside of Italy.


For several days I watched Lucy languish in her cage. She lay with her face on her large paws, and did not understand why she was there; she only wanted to go home. She missed Luigi, and barely responded to the volunteers who fed her, walked her, and tried to comfort her.


I was ready again for a canine companion. A week before my ex-partner left me, the Beagle we raised together passed away. Now, a year later, it was summer, I was on vacation from teaching school, and I had more free time. While I took some comfort in caring for the shelter dogs, my life felt empty.


After I signed the adoption agreement and paid the fees, I led Lucy out of the shelter, knelt down to plant a soft kiss on the top of her smooth round head, and said, “Come on girl, you’re going home”.


All Lucy would do, for the first few days in her new surroundings, was rest, sullenly, on a blanket in my kitchen. Although she ate well and resigned herself to daily walks, she would not play, follow a scent, or make any noise. She waited for Luigi.


“My sad little girl” I said, “what can I do to help you forget, to make you feel at home?” I had no article of Luigi’s clothing to give her, to make her believe the Old Man was still near. I talked to her, called her name, but she hardly responded.


Our lives changed that Saturday when, out of habit, I pressed the radio’s “on” button. The Metropolitan Opera was broadcasting “La Boehme”, one of my sentimental favorites. As the character Mimi began one of the famous, popular arias that I loved, it happened. Lucy stood up, wagged her tail, and walked toward the direction of the music. She sat, waved her tail happily, and pointed her nose to the ceiling as her long velvet ears fell back, and howled in her clearest baritone.


I grinned with happiness. Was Lucy performing a trick Luigi had taught her? Was she ready for her final goodbye to him, ready to declare her loyalty to me? Her mellow song was a sound of pure joy, and a welcome beginning. Here we were, a human and a dog, each who needed each other, and we were finally a pair.


I began to use phrases I studied from a newly-purchased Italian phrasebook. To my pleasant surprise, when I said “siediti”, she sat, when I said “venite” she came to me, and when I told her “che buon cane”, what a good dog, she wagged her tail proudly. It all made sense now; having heard it all of her life, my opera-loving Bassett Hound “spoke” Italian!


Now, at the dog park, Lucy bounces and romps and draws sympathetic smiles with her sad eyes. She is smitten with a handsome Schnauzer. (I have developed an interest in the Schnauzer’s owner, a solid, friendly young man who loves dogs, hates opera, and likes me.)


When I call venite! Lucia bounds toward me, her ears flapping. My heart soars, as this gentle, loving hound, sad no longer, looks like she is ready to fly.

"La Traviata" and Family Recollections--Saturday Journal #2

Chicago's Classical Music Station, WFMT, carries live opera broadcasts every Saturday at noon.  Today we got a treat from New York's Metropolitan Opera, Verdi's "La Traviata".

This lush and popular opera, one of Verdi's greatest, tells of the tragic romance between Violetta, the "traviata" (wayward woman) of the title, and the young Alfredo, who loves her.


"La Traviata"s combination of typically romantic and melodramatic elements, familiar arias and tunes, and a lavish score that is beautifully sung and plausibly emotional, has pleased generations of operagoers, even those not familiar or not predisposed to enjoy opera. 

Even those who don't know opera are surely familiar with the Drinking Song "Libiamo" ("we drink"), which as been used countless times in popular media.   Here's a clip from Franco Zeffirelli's gorgeous 1983 film version of the opera (the English translation of the lyrics appear at the end of this post):



My maternal grandparents, Sam and Lucy, were not grand aficionados of opera.  However, Sam's father, Joseph, was a consummate fan of opera.  He listened to the Met every Saturday on his little radio.  When my mother and her sister, as girls, made too much noise (my mother lived with her parents and grandparents) he would grumble and take his radio to the attic bedroom to listen in peace.  He memorized the greatest operas, and knew them so well, that if one word was missed, or one note was played incorrectly, he would exclaim, in his most idiomatic Sicilian, "They ruined it!" and would stomp off after turning off his radio in disgust.

When my mother was 18 years old, Joseph took my mother, his granddaughter, to the Lyric Opera in Chicago as her high school graduation present. He saved money for months to afford the tickets.  They saw "La Traviata".  She always describes the experience, and how romantic and sad it made her feel.

Today I called her to remind her to listen to the Met broadcast.  She still loves the music, even though she has forgotten most of the tragic story.  My father, tall, taciturn, and cultured, listened to Classical music all during my childhood.  I believe that my mother's love for this opera was one of the things that drew this unlikely pair together in their youth.  I wonder if they listened to it  again, together, today?  I wonder if the lively and haunting music sparked memories of emotions long ago spent, and reminded them of their youthful passion, and what bonded them 50-plus years ago? 



Lyrics to "Libiamo", from "La Traviata"

ALFREDO
Let's drink from the joyous chalice
Where beauty flowers ...
Let the fleeting hour
To pleasure's intoxication yield.
Let's drink
To love's sweet tremors -
To those eyes
That pierce the heart.
Let's drink to love - to wine
That warms our kisses.

ALL
Ah! Let's drink to love ‑ to wine
That warms our kisses.

VIOLETTA
(rising)
With you I would share
My days of happiness;
Everything is folly in this world
That does not give us pleasure.
Let us enjoy life,
For the pleasures of love are swift and fleeting
As a flower that lives and dies
And can be enjoyed no more.
Let's take our pleasure!
While its ardent,
Brilliant summons lures us on.


ALL
Let's take our pleasure
Of wine and
Singing and mirth
Till the new day
Dawns on us in paradise.


VIOLETTA
(to Alfredo)
Life is just pleasure.


ALFREDO
(to Violetta)
But if one still waits for love ...


VIOLETTA
(to Alfredo)
I know nothing of that ‑ don't tell me ...


ALFREDO
(to Violetta)
But there lies my fate.


ALL
Let's take our pleasure
Of wine and
Singing and mirth,
Till the new day
Dawns on this paradise of ours.

A Writer's Quiet Fears, Just After Midnight, in The Wee Hours of Sunday Morning

I don't talk much here about my fiction.  It is a fragile topic....ideas for fiction are as delicate as unfinished silk webs, and any early disruptions are likely to destroy them.

My motivation often comes from creating expectations for myself.  In the case of writing fiction, I am anxious about what i expect will be the final opinion of my readers: I want them to like the story, but also to be moved, transformed...changed for good.  But, like an actor on the stage, I feed off applause, an artist's ultimate creative climax at the end of the work.  By sharing bits and pieces early, I risk changing my original vision, and losing the incentive, the promise of acclaimed recognition of my effort, before giving myself a chance to complete something I know is original and exciting. Worse, a lukewarm reception to the unfinished masterpiece leads to discouragement, again no incentive to finish the work.

Sometimes by dwelling too much on readers' reactions, I paralyze myself against moving in a new direction, trusting my instincts.  I tend to want to get it just so, and perfection is like an asymptote---you can get infinitely closer to it without ever touching it.

Tomorrow I have decided to take the plunge and write for a contest offered by National Public Radio: a "three-minute short-story contest", of only 600 words, and 4 specific given words must fit somewhere in the story.

600 words.  Not a word can be wasted.  I have to meet a tight deadline.  And I have to be brief as well as expressive.

As if in a dream, the ideas stirred in the cauldron of my imagination, the ingredients of which came in pinches and shakes from my own experience.....  And so I will craft a story of a dog, a shelter, Opera, a concerned owner, the Italian language.....and hope to move people in a concentrated way.  Lady, shown to the left, was an inspiration...

After the contest ends, I'll submit my story for your review.....Wish me luck!

Can You Believe It? Animals, Opera, and Outrageousness for Thursday, AFD

Part 1. From my Arizona Photo Album:  While we hiked last month through Papago Park near Scottsdale, we caught sight of the rare jackalope, and snappped this incredible photograph:

This strange animal is a hybrid of the pygmy-deer and a species of "killer rabbit".  Preferring hot dry weather, they can be observed (when they can be seen at all) in the desert Southwest, especially the Sonoran desert of Arizona. Jackalopes are extremely shy. Legend also has it that female jackalopes can be milked as they sleep belly up and that the milk can be used for a variety of medicinal purposes. In some parts of the United States it is said that jackalope meat has a taste similar to lobster; once roasted, a well-prepared jackalope is so tender it comes apart with a gentle pulling of the leg. 

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Part 2. Latest Movie News:

International Opera Star Renee Fleming has been cast in the lead in James Cameron's new bio-pic of the eccentric '60's pop diva, Mrs. Elva Miller.  Fleming was not available for immediate comment. She had earlier admitted that Mrs. Miller was an early "inspiration" to her own art, revealing that Miller's artistic genius led her to incorporate a hearty belly laugh into her own pre-performance warm-ups. Pundits and critics are anticipating this movie more eagerly than Anne Hathaway's turn as Judy Garland.

Cameron enthused that cutting-edge 3-D technology will be employed for total immersion into the life of this beloved American singer.  "Fleming's singing style is surprisingly similar to Miller's", Cameron said. "They open their mouths and sound comes out.  In CGI and 3D, as she belts out a tune, one can almost reach out and squeeze Elva's zaftivg figure, and grab her trembling uvula. The way her salivary spray hovers and floats in front of the viewer will be quite an effect."

There will be some challenges; Cameron believes he might need another 4-5 years for technology to allow him to morph the beauty of Fleming into the earthy appeal of Miller (see below).  "Motion capture can only go so far at this time," Cameron admitted.

SNEAK PREVIEW:  Fleming is a great interpreter of song.  Click below to hear her, as Mrs. Miller, do a popular rendition of Bach's "Minuet in G Major"

Thanks to all you good sports...    

La Boheme, "Moonstruck", My Grandparents, and Arizona

A wedding picture from 1929. My maternal Italian grandparents, Sam Triolo and Lucy Salvati, occupy my thoughts lately. This year, both of them (had they lived) would be 100 years old.  Married at 19, theirs was a life filled with humor, roaring discord and passion, extended family, food (ah!---long, long tables filled with food), and fierce love for their grandchildren, especially me, for that is how it felt then, and now.


This photo was used on the invitation to their 50th wedding anniversary in 1979. My cousin Peggy and I, both of us creative, with dreams of stardom, presented a skit in which we played the roles of our grandparents on their wedding day.  Sam worked for many years at Nabisco in Chicago; in the skit, my wedding present to Lucy was a bag of Oreo cookies.


Some say that I resemble Sam in his youth, and share his restlessness and volatile temper and humor.  Lucy was regarded as a saint by those who knew her.  I had the good fortune to have been singled out by this quiet, good-natured woman as the "apple of her eye".


I want to remember them in all of their many ages and moods, all of the good sense of safe belonging in the fellowship of colorful and eccentric friends and relatives, the times when hearts were broken and losses were suffered, but mostly when laughter was heard, and everyone talked all at once, and loudly, to my youthful amusument.  I want to share Sam and Lucy with you.  In doing so, I will reveal more of myself, and chart the path from my origins to my chosen roads to reinvention.


This weekend I will travel to Scottsdale Arizona, and stay in the modest home thay made, which they gave to my mother on their passing.  Lucy and Sam's spirits are strongly felt there.  I can hear my grandfather teasing Lucy, making jokes, talking on the phone, and shouting at the television; and see my grandmother playing cards, wearing her sweater even in 110-degree heat, and laughing at Sam's antics.  Being there will allow me to remember them more clearly.

Many brief stories will be posted here in the weeks ahead.  My journal next week (all hand-written, as I am unplugging and leaving my laptop at home) will recall their presence, even as I record our activities and my impressions of each day.


It is easy to romanticize their lives, which had more than their share of hardship.  But whoever I am now, I owe to their genetics, their history, their example, and even their prejudices.  Mostly, I just loved them, and they, me.  Lucy was direct in her expressions, with hugs, or more food.  Sam, always on the go, always with friends--he had a lot of friends--showed his love in a teasing way. 

Their stories will also inform my new-found love of opera, my lifelong obsession with movies, and my attempt to capture and preserve my heritage as I study their native Italian language starting later this month.

Emotions...listening to the Metropolitan Opera's live broadcast of "La Boheme" on the radio on Saturday; remembering how it was used in the movie "Moonstruck" with such mischief, and loving emotion; and how the family portrayed in that film was so much like the characters in our family and myriad friends.  The music was so beautiful it made me cry...and the menories it invoked made those tears nostalgic, and tender.  I will soon review La Boheme, and especially "Moonstruck", one of my favorite films of all time.


And then I remembered with excitement that the trip would be soon....


Tomorrow...my Oscar pics, and thoughts on possible upsets.


In the meantime, enjoy the trailer from "Moonstruck", featuring Puccini's lushly romantic and sentimental aria:

Books, Music, Nostalgia, Animals, and Other Gifts--A Christmas Journal

It's time to pull back a bit on this peaceful night in Mt. Prospect Illinois and look closely at the world within my immediate grasp.  There's time enough to concern myself with applying my own piece to the mosaic of the world as I wish it to be.  Tonight, I am reflecting on the Christmas that just was.  Anxieties about family dynamics, weather, budget and deadlines aside, I am happy to say that my reflections are of a quiet and welcoming landscape...my small world was a pleasant place to be this holiday.

It was a "wet" Christmas instead of a white one.  Travel was easier without the treacherous snow and bitter chill we are accustomed to.  The brief appearance of the sun, upon our arrival at my parents' house this morning, was an omen that grace would descend on our festivities, and keep the usual petty conflicts in check. 

It was a 4-generation celebration: My parents, my sister and her husband,  and Mark and I, along with my sister's two boys, and the 1-year-old son of one of them.   This combination is a whole lot of raucous fun when everyone is behaving pleasantly and moving along on the same wavelength (like the set of "Moonstruck").  Otherwise, it's a minefield.  Today, the minesweepers did their job...all was calm, all was bright.

It was an active and delicious day.  I found my old film editing equipment I used in college, and, together with Mark and one of my nephews, we looked at old motion pictures I had made back in my impetuously creative days.  The equipment is ancient, but the films held up perfectly.  Soon, I will have these converted to DVD, and then to my files, and I will share some of the more interesting ones here.

Shrimp, lasagna, salad, and wine was our simple, traditional and filling meal.  My parents' tiny kitchen barely sat all 8 of us plus a high chair.  And there is no dishwasher...that's my job, and always has been.

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--Thanks to the generosity of my special friends and family, my re-invention has received a boost from the thoughtful items that were presented to me as gifts.

Books: 

• "True Compass", the memoir of Ted Kennedy--  A bright light of insight for my political education. A look back from the 1960's and up to his recent death, and, for me, a speculation of his impact on the health care bill, and what could have been if he survived.
• "A Night at the Opera", by Sir Denis Foreman-- Subtitled 'An irreverent guide to the plots, the singers, the composers, the recordings."  A hilarious yet comprehensive study of the greatest operas, a detailed description of their librettos, arias, history, even running times; and a lively appreciation of the art form itself.  Sir Foreman would seem to have a formidable grasp of opera and excellent credentials..and it looks like fun!
• "Sicilian Odyssey" by Francine Prose-- A travel memoir and history by one of my favorite writers; the book is described as a guide to "a land whose 'commitment to the extreme' makes its history more vivid, its sun hotter, its cooking earthier..."  And it's the birthplace of some of my more colorful ancestors!
• "To Dance With The White Dog" a novel by Terry Kay.  A famous story about a recent widower and the bond he forms with a mysterious white dog.  I received a first edition signed copy....my collection grows...
• "Girls Like Us", by Sheila Weller-- A triple-biography of musical contemporaries Carole King, Carly Simon, and Joni Mitchell....A revel for me, and an addition to my eventual expertise on '60's pop culture and one of my musical heroines.

Music and Such:

• French and Italian Phrasebooks and Dictionaries--I need to pursue my love of languages and plan our future travels accordingly.
• DVD's--"Joan Baez How Sweet the Sound", and "Leonard Cohen Live in London"--  A PBS Baez Documentary and a 2008 Cohen concert film.  More nourishment for my '60's musical soul, and material for an "artistic" memoir some time in the future...

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Mark and I surprised each other by presenting each other the Christopher Isherwood Novel "A Single Man".  Now we can read it "together".   I have discussed Isherwood in recent posts this month--he has emerged anew as a literary favorite of mine. It is a brief book but packed with beautiful phrases and ideas.  (The movie just arrived in Chicago).

We saved our gift exchange for this evening.  After an energetic two days with our families, we were ready to have a relaxed time, and enjoy the reactions to each others' surprises.  The snow began to gently fall once we were safely in the house.  Scrabble ensued, and a look at new DVD's.  My mind drifted out to those whose lives are somewhat foreign to my own, lives that are more, or less, comfortable, than mine....and was content in the moment.  I resolved to pay attention to the less comfortable ones, human or animal.  I also breathed a sigh of gratitude for friends, old and new, who always have a welcome place to spend in our company, and for Mark, who allows for my hours of writer's solitude, and makes sure I am not out in the cold.

~ ~ ~
Christmas Eve was at the home of Mark's sister Diane and husband Steve, and happily Mark's mom was able to join us.  Helen is the force that unites the family, and the teller of family tales and history.  She worked all year on her pottery and presented me with a painted ceramic rabbit, and a lovely and delicate ornament of a white deer.  Fortunately, she was feeling fine and laughed hard at our "witty" banter and crazy photo opportunities.

I have such fond thoughts about Christmas Eve last evening.  I used nostalgia as a theme in my gifting.  I found books for Helen about the Great Hotels of St. Louis, and Lighthouses of North Carolina, both cities where she once lived.  For Diane, I presented a book on the old amusement park "The Highlands", a favorite childhood locale for her and Mark.  And for Steve, I sleuthed and researched, and called his old home town of Millstadt Illinois, which is too small for it's own book!  The woman who runs the Historical Society sent me their annual calendar with vintage pictures, along with a personal note. She knew his family, and was able to relate news regarding his old childhood home's renovation. This calendar, with pictures of places and people he recognized, was something he never expected, and his (and everyone's) appreciation was palpable, and sincere.

A favorite moment: Dusty, Steve and Diane's cat, entering the kitchen on Steve's shoulder.  Christmas is a time for children, and animals too.  My favorite figures in the manger scene were always the creatures.  As I posted recently, having them around me this time of year reminds me of the giddy pleasures I knew in childhood.