The World of Bohemedude

Loving Adele

Loving Adele

Whenever a new vocalist steps into the American musical arena, music critics and DJs are tempted to classify the vocal style or to make comparisons. It's only natural, I suppose, as we all tend to relate that which is new to that which is familiar. British singer-songwriter, Adele Adkins, is one such artist--relatively new on the music scene, at least in this country. There is a problem with Adele, however. Her voice and style are incomparable and difficult to categorize.

For a music lover with completely eclectic musical tastes like mine, classification of Adele's album titled simply 19 is easy. I have filed it under "Music I LOVE." Adele is an "old soul," writing with sophistication and musical awareness well beyond that of her twenty-something contemporaries.

I first discovered Adele when she appeared on SNL. Like most Saturday nights, I had fallen asleep shortly after the opening monologue and first sketches. Luckily, I woke up just in time to see Adele singing "Chasing Pavements." The song seemed very familiar to me, and I was sure I'd heard it before. And yet, I could not place it. That's the thing about this music; it seems comfortably familiar and fresh all at the same time.

Adele's 19 is a rich collection of soulful ballads and laidback, yet sophisticated pop tunes. Adele proves herself to be both a serious musician (playing bass and acoustic guitar) and a playful young adult. Her lyrics are thoughtful. With the exception of one Bob Dylan cover, all of the selections were written or co-written by AdeleThe musical arrangements are multi-layered. One of my favorites, "Cold Shoulder," features snare drum riffs reminiscent of a marching band. Listen carefully and you'll even hear a glockenspiel. The use of orchestral strings adds a level of maturity and elegance that sets this music apart from the offerings of two other young female singers, Colbie Caillat and Sara Bareilles. The music is fresh and unpredictable with clever use of changing rhythms and tempos. But what stands out, above all else, is Adele's richly unique voice. It's an amazing blend of that smoky, developed voice of a seasoned blues singer and the youthful, almost angelic tones of an adolescent girl. .

"Chasing Pavements" is getting some airplay on stations here in San Francisco. But, I don't think it will be a huge hit. This is music for more refined tastes. If you loved Corinne Bailey Rae ... check it out. If you prefer a steady diet of Brittney or Madonna, skip this one. You just won't get it.

Favorite tracks:
Chasing Pavements
Best for Last
Cold Shoulder
Make You Feel My Love (B. Dylan)

Somebody Save Us from Sarah!

Does John McCain KNOW America?

George Michael's 25 Live-- Feast for the Eyes and Ears!

In celebration of a music career that has spanned some 25 years, George Michael has embarked on a major concert tour of Europe and North America. Beginning in Barcelona, Spain in 2006, Michael has entertained millions of fans in sold-out events in major cities. George Michael recently announced the inclusion of "The Final Two," two additional shows scheduled to be held at Earls Court on August 24 and 25. With these two shows, the lights will dim and the curtain will drop on what is sure to be one of the most memorable musical events of the decade.

My partner and I were among those who were lucky enough to see 25 Live in San Jose, California last night (June 19). Our attendance at the show was somewhat of a fluke. I just happened to win the tickets in a radio contest a few weeks ago. (Oh the joys of being Caller Number Nine!!). So, I cannot say that I'm a true George Michael fan. Sure, I have a couple of his CD's, and I can sing along to many of his biggest hits. And, as a gay man, I have an appreciation for anyone in the public eye who takes that bold step of living an openly gay life. It seems that Mr. Michael overcame a number of personal struggles to be Out and Proud. I find that commendable,  no doubt. Nevertheless, I am far from being a die-hard Michael fan. I do not own his entire discography, nor do I aspire to. I can say, however, that I will be going out to buy his latest musical offering Twenty-Five.

As a writer, I work very hard to avoid overstatement and cliche, but when friends have asked me what I thought of the concert last night, I am at a loss for words. Fabulous! Amazing! Incredible! These are the words that come to mind, and while descriptions of this sort seem trite and lacking in meaning due to their overuse, in this case, the words seem most apropos. From singing songs from his early days with Wham ("Everything She Wants") with energy and enthusiams to crooning like Sinatra on "Kissing a Fool," George Michael proved himself to be equal parts Gay Icon/Club King and Sensitively Serious Vocalist. His thoughtful and passionate performance of "One More Try" seemed as fresh and moving as it did when I first heard its call to social consciousness in 1988. "Freedom 90," which ended the show rang out like an anthem with lyrics like, "There's something deep inside of me. There's someone else I've got to be." One cannot mistake the personal conviction with which Michael celebrates what seems a new-found understanding and appreciation of himself. And, celebration seems to be a word which encompasses the experience of Live 25.

If the music itself were not enough of a draw, the staging and visual effects are spectacular. A screen wraps from below the stage, across the floor of the stage, and then reaches to the ceiling behind the stage. This screen becomes a canvas onto which are projected visual images that make the lyrics and music come to life on a whole new level. I have often wondered what music would look like if it were an art form we could experience both visually and auditorilly. That concept no longer seems so foreign as the designers of Michael's show have captured the essence of the music beautifully. Add to the visual effects and Michael's sweet voice a musical ensemble of virtuoso talent and back-up singers who could easily hold their own as solo performers, and you have the perfect blend of artistry and entertainment that had both my partner and me still experiencing that incredible high that only live music can give you even this morning.

As I mentioned earlier, I won my tickets purely by luck and chance. After seeing George Michael's Live 25 concert, I feel as if I have won a lottery. In the lifetime of a music lover like myself, there are a handful of concert performances that are remembered and cherished forever. Without a doubt, seeing George Michael on June 19, 2008 in San Jose, CA during his Live 25 tour will be among those rarities of rarities for me.

Out Here On My Own

I remember a song sung by Irene Cara on the soundtrack for the movie, Fame. "Sometimes I wonder where I’ve been--who I am--do I fit in? Make-believin’ is hard alone, out here on my own... We’re always proving who we are--always reaching for that rising star, to guide me far and shine me home--out here on my own." When I first heard that song, I think I was in junior high school, standing on the threshold of adolescence, trying to make sense of so many conflicting feelings. I lived in a small town that seemed so far from everything meaningful in the world. The lives I saw played out on TV didn’t really resemble my life at all. In many, many ways I felt isolated, and Irene Cara’s performance seemed to capture all of the melancholy and disillusionment I often felt with my life. It was comforting.

There have been many times in my life when I have felt lonely and times when I’ve felt alone. I’m not sure if the two feelings are exactly the same. In fact, there were times when I felt intense loneliness and was sitting in the same room with another person. Loneliness, perhaps, has more to do with that feeling that we aren’t truly seen or understood by those people with whom we share our lives, the people whose validation and recognition is so highly prized, made all the more precious by the fact that it is not easily attained. "Alone" feels different. My ability to embrace and welcome that alone feeling seems to run along a continuum. There are times when I cherish a moment alone, and other times when the thought of being alone is overwhelmingly frightening.

Lately, I’ve begun to understand a new kind of "alone." At times, this new "alone" is accompanied by true loneliness, but for the most part, the feeling is a comfortable contentment. This type of "alone" is tempered by hope and promise. This "alone" gives birth to independence and self-reliance. This "alone" opens doors to self-discovery, radical self-acceptance, and unconditional self-love. I am learning what it means to truly be "out here on my own," and the lesson is beautiful.

I’m beginning to see how much I have to offer others... I’m learning to cherish my sensitivity and soft-heartedness. I’m realizing that I am a deeply introspective and slightly complicated individual, and I’m okay with that. I’m returning to those elements of my personality that I have loved well but let die in the shadow of another...I’m living life creatively and with passion, allowing impulse to carry me away from time to time, apologizing to no one. I’m letting my proverbial hair down and giving in to that part of my soul that has a penchant for flights of fancy. I’m encouraging my inner critic to be more open to people, to experience, and to change. I’m embracing what we all know--We pass this way only once!

"Sometimes I wonder where I’ve been--who I am--do I fit in? I may not win, but I can’t be thrown...out here on my own!"

Playing With Matches

"Matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match...find me a find...catch me a catch!" If only it were that easy to find love in the year 2008!

I'll call him Albert to protect his anonymity. We met on Match.com. I recently created a profile on the popular online dating service despite one of my best friends own disillusionment with her online dating experiences. I am not unhappy being single. In fact, I'm more and more content with my life every day. I don't have an overwhelming need to be partnered or coupled. And, at the same time, I'm a social being with a loving heart who enjoys sharing my life with a significant other. But, I digress... Anonymous Albert...

We had our first--and only--date tonight. We met for drinks at Twin Peaks, a bar in the Castro (San Francisco's gay district). Twin Peaks has been dubbed the "Glass Coffin" by some uncoothe younger gay men. The establishment has huge windows across the front allowing passersby a view of the bar's patrons, older men. I'm not saying my date was old. Not even close... At 51, he's pretty close to my "target age group." I am attracted to older men. I appreciate the fact that they are established,  have a good sense of what they want from life and a relationship, and they can actually carry on an intelligent conversation.

Albert did not look that much like his photos on his profile. In fact, I couldn't pick him out in the crowd. He was much more handsome than I had expected. He looked younger than I had expected he might, and he had facial hair that he did not have in the pictures. He looked great. The conversation seemed to have a slow start. We chatted about dating in general, what we liked to do for fun, and about our experiences with other men we had dated or been in relationships with. At one point he shocked me by saying, "I can usually tell in the first 40 minutes or so if a guy is someone I'd like to have a relationship with." I was tempted to take a look at my watch to see if those crucial 40 minutes had passed. To be honest, I wasn't feeling the chemistry. I liked Albert. He was sweet, soft-spoken, and handsome. His eyes were beautiful, and they seemed to sparkle when he smiled. Albert was clearly intelligent, articulate, cultured, well-travelled, and charming. I felt NOTHING!

There's nothing more tragic than going on a blind date with someone and having a decent time--not a great time, but not a dismal time--and finding that there's no romantic connection. According to Match.com, Albert and I are perfect for each other. But at the end of the evening, we left the restaurant and walked together for a short distance, to the intersection of Market and Noe where Albert offered me his hand and shook mine and said, "You're a sweet guy, but I wish I felt more chemistry." Wait a second...A moment ago I said that nothing is more tragic than realizing that there's no romantic connection between you and your blind date. There is one thing that's more tragic. Standing on the corner of Market and Noe and being told that your date just isn't into you as another really gorgeous guy walks by and overhears the whole thing...yeah...that's slightly more tragic. AND, it happened to me.

It's Saturday night...It's 10:00 PM...and I'm in a t-shirt and sweat pants...sipping a cup of tea...and anticipating that glorious moment when I will slip into a hot bath with a good book and then curl up with my dog. Perhaps the single life isn't quite so bad. That bath is calling me now...but first, let me just see who "winked" at me on Match.com

What Would Carrie Bradshaw Do?

"Truth or Dare" Grows Up!

Fox's new realtiy/game show Moment of Truth  premiered last night after American Idol. The premise of the show is simple. The commentator asks a contestant a number of questions, and the contestant simply must answer each truthfully. As he or she answers questions honestly, the potential for winning big bucks grows greater, with the ultimate prize being half a million dollars. So, are you ready to sign up? $500,000 in prize money just for telling the truth seems like a great deal, right? There is a catch of course.

Prior to going on the show, contestants are asked a multitude of questions while undergoing a lie detector test. The results are gathered but not revealled to the contestants. On the show, the contestants are asked a sampling of the same questions, and if they tell the truth(as recorded by the lie detector)  they progress up the prize pyramid. Once the contestant answers a question dishonestly, he or she is disqualified and loses all prize money. And, of course, a contestant can stop playing at anytime and go home with whatever prize has already been won. Fair enough, you say? Well... it's still not quite as simple as it sounds.

The questions asked are pretty personal. And, contestants answer them while their spouses, best friends, and other family members watch. Imagine answering questions like: Have you ever done anything that would cause your spouse to no longer be able to trust you?" or "Do you have a bank account that your spouse does not know about?" or "Have you ever used the Internet to flirt?" And imagine giving your answers while your significant other is sitting across from you.

I must admit, I found the show to be wildly fascinating and unnerving all at the same time. The production elements of the show work to increase the suspense and anxiety of the contestant, the audience, and especially the "significant other," who is understandably hanging on every word that the contestant speaks. Pregnant pauses punctuate the time between the contestants answer and the verdict of some unseen, almost Godlike judge who determines if the response was True or False. The show's host plays up the difficulty of each question and subtley torments the contestant and his or her companions. The entire show gives new meaning to the concept of "hot seat."

I was definitely captivated by the show, watching with an almost voyeuristic fascination. I found the concept of the show to be rather interesting, and I found myself thinking about it even today. In fact, my coworkers and I even talked about the show a bit. The more I think about it, the more I find myself completely ethralled by the entire premise. First, I am dumbfounded by the fact that anyone would willingly subject oneself to what amounts to much more than public scrutiny. Second, I cannot imagine under what circumstances I would want my partner to go on public television and be so completely honest.

At one point in last night's show, the best friend of a young woman whose husband was in the hot seat asked her if hearing the answer to one of the more difficult questions was worth $10,000. The contestant had just confessed that he had held off on having children with his wife because he wasn't absolutely certain she would be his partner for life. The man's wife was visibly shaken by his candid responses to the questions, but she answered her friend by telling her that she was curious. I can't help but wonder if her curiosity was of the variety that killed the cat.

How much honesty is too much? Is anyone absolutely totally and completely honest? I mean, really... We have to face the facts and the bottom line is that none of us is capable of complete honesty, nor is our world designed for us to be completely honest with one another. We all tell "little white lies" to save the feelings of others or to cover our own asses.   "No, those jeans do not make you look fat....  You are certainly better looking than anyone else I've ever dated... I didn't inhale." Little fibs aside, we all have our secrets as well.  We don't divulge every single detail of the past, and in most cases, we shouldn't.  We keep certain things to ourselves because common sense tells us that baring our souls isn't always wise. We all make errors in judgment that would cost us dearly if the wrong person or persons were to find out, so we simply vow to take certain infractions with us to our graves. On the flipside of the same issue, I think there are also certain things we would really not want to know.

As I discussed Moment of Truth and its premise with my friends today, I was struck by my own discomfort with the concept of the show. I cannot begin to imagine how the lives of the contestants and the people they love will be altered by participation in this show. When you stop to consider how our lives shift and change from day to day or moment to moment, the notion of being able to answer such questions with complete honesty is daunting. In my own life, I know that my contentment with my job, my relationship, and my friendships waxes and wanes. I know that I find myself oscillating between moments of elation and fulfillment and those of heartache and disillusionment. Like everyone, I wrestle with demons of doubt from time to time. I may have given into temptation when I should not have. Those shortcomings are things I keep to myself. There is a fine line between an honest confession and casting one's burdens onto someone else. Sometimes our brutal honesty eases our guilt while casting a dark and destructive shadow on the hearts of those whose lives are forever changed by our selfish honesty. I wonder how many of those stories will be told on "Moment of Truth"

My Name is Jerome and I'm Addicted to Romance!

I made a shocking discovery recently. I was on an airplane flying back to San Francisco from North Carolina where my partner and I had traveled for a short, post holiday visit with my family. One of my Christmas gifts from my parents was a DVD copy of the movie Music and Lyrics starring Drew Barrymore and Hugh Grant. I decided to watch it on my portable DVD player during the last leg of our journey, a nearly four hour flight from Houston to San Francisco. My shocking revelation came as a result of viewing that film, and I finally had to face the truth. I'm a big sap!!

I confess; I'm a hopeless romantic. I seriously love everything about being in love. In fact, I might even be romantic to a fault if such a thing is even possible. I mean, I am a firm believer that there is simply no such thing as being too romantic. My partner, however, would most likely disagree with vehemence. To him, my level of sentimentality is way over-the-top. I suppose the two of us strike some sort of balance, but I cannot deny that I live for even the smallest display of love and affection. Write me a love letter, and I'm yours!

I have often pondered my addiction to romance and have tried to understand why it is so. I can only say this: I am my mother's son, and my mother is the consumate "sap." It was she who introduced me to the classic "tear jerker chic flick." I remember sitting with her and watching An Affair to Remember, Gone with the Wind, and West Side Story. My mother even has been known to watch a movie like Brian's Song because she needs a good cry. My mother has never been ashamed of showing her emotions, and I believe it was her influence that has led me to wear my own heart out on my sleeve.

Over the years, I have tried to become less sensitive or to "butch it up" a bit, as my partner would say. I have sometimes wished I wasn't so sentimental, believing to some degree that my life would be easier if my feelings weren't so easily hurt. I have even succumbed to that mistaken belief that real men don't cry. But, in the grand scheme of things, I have come to realize that having a tender heart is not necessarily a curse. When my heart strings are tugged, I am reminded how wonderfully human I am, and I stand in awe of the capacity of the human heart to experience that most sacred emotion that connects all of us on this planet to one another. Each of us has a profound desire to love and to be loved.

Romantic Comedies Rock-- Here are 10 of my Faves!

1) Love Actually

2) You've Got Mail

3) When Harry Met Sally

4) Sleepless in Seattle

5) Because I Said So

6) Notting Hill

7) Music & Lyrics

8) Pretty Woman

9) Mystic Pizza

10) Someone Like You

Something Better in 2008--My Resolution

I usually don't make resolutions for the new year. It seems rather futile to me. Most of the time, I just don't manage to keep the resolutions I make. I definitely have had some limited success with certain resolutions, but in most cases, my resolve to make life changes lasts about 6 weeks. As they say, hold habits die hard.

For some reason, I feel somewhat compelled to make a resolution this year. It's something I've actually been giving some serious thought to in the past few days. Even last night, I felt moved by a still small voice telling me that it's time for change. I was watching the news with my partner and was drawn in by the coverage of the assassination of  Benazir Bhutto in Pakistan. Admittedly, I don't know a lot about the Middle East and the turmoil that seems to constantly overshadow that region of the World. But, I know enough to feel the anguish of the people of Pakistan who had placed their hopes in the hands of Bhutto. And, I realize that her assassination is the result of corruption and political unrest. On one hand, it is abundantly clear to me that such corruption runs rampant in our World and that it's truly larger than life and erradicating it will be no small feat.  On the other hand, however, I completely understand that governments and institutions are created and managed by people, by individuals acting together for a common goal or cause. And on an individual, personal level we can make a choice to live our lives honestly and with integrity.

I really want to believe that as individuals we can make a difference in the World. I want to believe that my personal vision and desire for peace sends out trickles to the Universe, and those waves multiplied by the intentions of others can truly bring about change.I have to believe it because my sister is being deployed to Baghdad, Iraq for the second time. She'll be away from her husband and two little girls for 15 months. My whole family is traveling to North Carolina in a few weeks to spend some time with her before she leaves. The whole scenario shakes me to the very core of my being. And, I know that ours is not the first family to experience any of this, so I feel guilty when I speak of the fear and anger I feel about her going to my friends. This war has cost us all way too much!

I spent Christmas with friends this year and was thrilled to hear about a project that the daughter of some friends started all of her own accord. Last year, Alex made care packages to give to homeless people living on the streets in San Francisco. The experience was so enriching for her that she made even more packages this year and plans on making this an annual endeavor. She has even gotten friends and neighbors involved in donating items to be included in the packages. This is a project that truly excites this young lady.

What moved me more than anything about this endeavor is that Alex simply wanted to do something good for others. She started out by making only 10 care packages the first year, hardly a drop in the bucket when you think of the thousands of homeless people in the city. Even so, if you ask her, Alex will tell you how much this project has meant to her and the people whose lives she has touched. Just one example of how a small individual effort has a larger effect.

We hear stories like Alex's all the time. If you're like me, you probably get a bit teary-eyed and are moved by the kindness and generosity of one who truly cares for others. And, then you go about your business. That's how I react anyway. Sure, a part of me may feel inspired to do something similar to help others, but my thought rarely results in action.

My resolution for 2008 is to do something better than just thinking about change. I'm going to put thought into action as much as I can.  It takes so little effort--truly--to make a difference in the lives of those around us. We all have a desire and a need to connect with others. We all have a need and desire to know that we matter to someone else. What does it take to reach out to those around us?  A  phone call to a friend just to say hello... Handing your restaurant left-overs to someone who is living on the streets...  Donating food or used clothing to a shelter... Volunteering to read to the visually impaired... Visiting a nursing home...  When we do these small things, our paradigms shift, and we can begin to see the need to be responsible on a more national and global level.

Something better in 2008--It starts with a small, conscious effort to make a difference!

Now Is the Time for Walking

Surprised by The Mist

When my friend Andy invited me to see the movie The Mist with him, I was a bit hesitant at first. But since I hadn't had a chance to hang-out with Andy for some time, I made plans to meet him at my office. I do like a good horror flick, and dinner and a movie with a good friend is always one of my favorite outings.

I always have a hard time letting go of expectations and preconceived notions when I see a movie. There are certain directors or actors from whom I always expect great films. And it stands to reason that there are movies that I simply choose not to see because I have low expectations. I'm not a fan of Eddie Murphy or Jim Carry, for example. My expectations for The Mist were quite low. For starters, the movie is based on a novella by Stephen King. While I am an avid reader, I have read only one Stephen King novel which I did not particularly enjoy. In addition, I whole-heartedly subscribe to the opinion that the book is always better than the movie. If you put all of that information into some sort of equation, the obvious outcome would suggest that it was unlikely that I would enjoy this movie at all.

The third strike sending this film back to the dugout was somewhat of a toss-up between lack of star power and monsters. First, if I'm going to spend two hours in a theater watching a film adaptation of a Stephen King novel which I would never read,  I need the jumbo popcorn, the jumbo Diet Coke, and EYE CANDY. I need something to look at... George Clooney, Brad Pit, Antonio Banderas... I'll even settle for Angelina Jolie. No such luck in The Mist. The final fatal flaw of this flick in my estimation... Monsters. I love scary movies, but I'm not frightened by monsters. Why? You might ask... Because they simply are not real. Hannibal Lector scares the crap out of me. That guy wielding the chainsaw in Texas kept me sleeping with the lights on for a few days. But, monsters--even those that are the result of a military experiment gone terribly amiss--just don't provide enough fear factor for me. Sadly, I had committed to the movie making myself a captive audience of one.

The Mist turned out to be an okay film. While I cannot rave on and on about brilliant acting or a screenplay of literary merit, I must admit that I left the theater truly thinking about the movie.  I described The Mist as a blend of The Lord of the Flies  and War of the Worlds. Monsters and Mr. King aside, the film examines the powerful force of fear and uncertainty on human nature. As I watched the movie, I kept asking myself which was scarier--the giant insects and monsters that were lurking in the mist or the religious fanatic preaching of the end times and effectively brainwashing a group of followers to the point that they sacrifice one of their own? As the film moved forward to an ending that no one could see coming, I became more and more uncomfortable with the behavior of the characters on screen who were so easily swayed by manufactured ideologies as well as the monsters that were manufactured by the military all of which were cleverly shrouded by the mist. As the characters slowly discovered that everything they had put their faith in, the very infrastructure of society, was collapsing leaving them to fend for themselves, I became horrified by the reality of what I was witnessing on screen. The question that was plaguing me as I made my way home from the theater was this: What or who are the real monsters?

The Mist is worth seeing. I'm still not convinced that the movie was worth $10.50 admission at the box office, but I would recommend it for home-viewing on DVD.

A Few of My Favorite Things

I'm not ashamed to say that I love Christmas! In fact, I'm somewhat of a Christmas junkie. You'll never hear me complaining about the stores putting out their Christmas wares in October. For me, this is such a magically wonderful time that it seems almost shameful to not let it last a bit longer. Sadly, few of my friends share my sentiments. I might classify a few as bona fide "humbugs." I know some of these folks don't have happy memories of the holidays, and they associate Christmas with family drama and dysfunction. I guess a bit of "Scrooginess" may be justified under such circumstances.

I'm fortunate to have wonderful memories of Christmas. I am sure that some of my childhood Christmases held their share of disappointment when I didn't receive everything that was on my Christmas list . Nevertheless, as an adult, I realize that gift-exchanges aren't all that important and that this season has a whole lot more to offer than colorful wrapping paper and bows.

One of my favorite things about Christmas is the music. I don't know how many times I've sung "O Come All Ye Faithful" in my 38 years of life, and I still get goosebumps at the beginning of Midnight Mass when the choir and congregation begin singing "Adeste Fidelis." At various times of my life, I have been more or less "religious" depending entirely on my life circumstances of the moment. It's funny that even during those periods in my life when I have truly lacked faith or questioned the existence of God, I have still found myself in church on Christmas eve. Perhaps the spirit of Christmas is more powerful than any or our doubts.

Christmas is truly a time for believing... It's a time to believe in Santa Claus... To believe in Peace on Earth... And to believe in the power of love. It's a time when our hearts are called home, maybe not the home of our childhood, but to anyplace where we are surrounded by those who love us best. The holidays are a time for celebrating all of our favorite things. This season you'll find me enjoying a few of my favorite things:

Christmas Music: A Christmas Album--Amy Grant... The Gift--Jim Brickman... Wintersong--Sarah McLachlan... The Animals' Christmas--Art Garfunkle and Amy Grant... The Christmas Song--Nat King Cole...A Christmas Album--Barbra Streisand

Christmas Reading: A Christmas Memory--Truman Capote... The Best Christmas Pageant Ever--Barbara Robinson... A Christmas Carol--Charles Dickens... The Gift of the Magi--O.Henry... A Visit form Saint Nicholas--Clement C. Moore

Tastes of Christmas: Eggnog, warm apple cider with cinnamon, popcorn balls, fudge, sugar cookies, candy canes, chocolate, marzipan

Christmas TV: A Charlie Brown Christmas... Miracle on 34th Street... Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer... It's a Wonderful Life... The Little Drummer Boy...

Happy Holidays!!!

It's Coming On Christmas

Have you ever gotten a song stuck in your head? I'm pretty sure it's happened to most everyone. An annoying jingle from a commercial on TV runs incessantly somewhere in the back of our minds as we go about our daily tasks. I guess that's the point, right? The advertisers want you to remember their products when you're walking through the supermarket. As you're pushing your cart through Safeway, your subconcious begins to sing... "Mama makes brights white like the sunlight, Mama's got the magic of Chlorox 2" See...It works!

I once had the song "Fire" by Bruce Springsteen stuck in my head for what seemed like years. It's an okay song, I guess. But, the problem was that I didn't hear Springsteen's voice or my own performing the song. That would have been a bit too sane for my twisted mind. Instead, it was Elmer Fudd. Yep...that's right. I had watched an HBO Comedy Special featuring Robin Williams who sang the song as Elmer Fudd. I must admit that it was rather funny, but the replay that occurred in my head was torture. I'm almost fearful to give the matter any further attention, lest the song should begin playing again in that mysterious manner in which such things happen.

I shouldn't make light of the power of music to captivate us. In fact, music has been for me a constant companion since the days of my youth. I have a pretty extensive personal library of recordings on CD, cassette, and even vinyl.  I refer to this music lovingly as my life's soundtrack because in lots of ways that exactly what it is. Many of my most precious memories have a song or songs associated with them. And, I find that certain music can more easily capture an mood or moment than mere words can. Seriously, I cannot imagine my life without music, nor would I ever want to.

Lately, the song "River" by Joni Mitchell has been running through my mind. I haven't listened to the song for quite awhile, but I remember the opening lyric distinctly. "It's coming on Christmas. They're cutting down trees. They're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace. Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on."

While the song itself really speaks of a lost love and doesn't have a whole lot to do with Christmas, it seems to be the song that is calling out to me this Christmas season. I was just thinking the other day about how much I love this time of  year. Not just the holidays, but winter in general. I have many fond childhood memories of winters in South Dakota. Winters are much colder on the Great Plains than they are here in California. The snows fly, and the winds are truly bone-chilling. And, the winter is long, sometimes extending into late March and early April. In fact, I remember blizzards that kept my sisters and me out of school in the early spring.

It's funny how the things we miss or take for granted as children become the "stuff that nostalgia is made of" as adults. Although I love my adult life very much, I sometimes find myself missing that inexplicable feeling of comfort and contentment that I felt as a child, snuggled in my bed under a quilt on a cold winter night and just knowing that I was safe and sound in Mom's house. I remember Mom and Dad playing board games with my sisters and me when a blizzard had cut-off the electricity, leaving us without a TV. Mom would bake bread or cookies to warm the house because we had a gas oven, and we'd drink hot cocoa by the gallons. There was something about the cold outside that made me so aware of the warmth of home. I'm not talking about the coziness of being sheltered by a house, but something even better than that. As children, we take that feeling for granted, and as adults, we long for it. At least I do. I know that there are times when I'd give almost anything to just curl up on Mom's sofa on a cold Sunday morning.

Maybe it's the fact that I'm getting older that causes me to wax sentimental today. Maybe it's the time of year. Maybe I'm feeling homesick, missing the snowy Black Hills that I learned to love so well. Maybe it's the realization that my younger sister will be deployed to Iraq for the second time after Christmas. Could be all of those things in combination, I suppose. We are complex beings, are we not? Whatever the reason, I have learned over the years that it is possible to simply sit with our thoughts and not analyze them. While there is something melancholic about my recollections from the past, I am content to wrap these feelings around myself and cherish them.

It's coming on Christmas...They're cutting down trees...They're putting up reindeer and singing songs of joy and peace... Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...

But it don't snow here...It stays pretty green...I'm going to make a lot of money...Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene... Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on...

I wish I had a river...

Brief Hiatus

Dear Readers...

Okay, I realize it's either presumptuous or delusional to think that I actually have a reader let alone several as implied by the greeting "Dear Readers." Be that as it may, I feel inclined to let you (whoever you may or may not be) that I am off to Memphis to spend a week at the home of my partner's mother. We will celebrate Thanksgiving and wander around Graceland looking for Elvis. I won't have access to a computer, but I will be gathering vignettes and anecdotes for my return to this literary endeavor.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!!!

Jerome

Some Privacy Please!

I was out walking the four-legged human last night (okay, he's actually a dog...just don't tell him that), and I was basically minding my own business. Yesterday had been one of those crazily tiring days. I had some minor fires to put out at work. I went to the gym after leaving the office to try to blow off some steam, so by the time I got home I was exhausted, but Butch needed a walk, and my partner was busy cooking dinner, so it was up to me to take him out. It was getting dark out, and my mind and body were craving peace and quiet.

Much to my dismay, as I was rounding the corner to return to our apartment building, I met up with a man and woman standing under the street lamp, rapt in heated conversation. Despite my best efforts to ignore them, I simply could not. What is it about raised voices and pointed fingers that attracts our attention? I couldn't actually hear the conversation in detail, but based on body language and tone of voice, the man was apparently giving this poor woman a "piece of his mind." She was clearly uncomfortable and was attempting to defend herself, but the man wouldn't stop ranting long enough to let her speak. I assume the man and woman were a couple and the conversation taking place on my street corner was one of those heated relationship discussions that we've all experienced at one time or another.

As Butch and I made our way back to the house, perhaps a bit more slowly than is typical as I was trying to eavesdrop, I began thinking about what I was overhearing. Communication that should be taking place in private was virtually on public display. Obviously this couple did not intend to air their personal affairs in the presence of others. I'm guessing the conflict sort of arose unexpectedly, and the discussion became heated without warning. Regardless, I couldn't help but ponder the appropriateness of it all.

There seems to be a growing trend in America. We lack decorum!!  My observation may seem harsh, but I think it's truer than any of us would like to admit. And while I do not personally subscribe to anything remotely close to puritanism, I sometimes long for a sense of propiety that is clearly a thing of the past. I recently read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, and I couldn't help wishing that men and women were more like Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy. The thought of making a spectacle of oneself in public would have been alarming to people such as these, who lived in a time in which a clear line delineated one's private life from his or her public life.

Oh my...How times have changed!!!

I cannot even begin to count the number of times I have overheard one side of a very sensitive conversation because someone was talking on a cell phone on a crowded bus or in the supermarket. I am old enough to remember the days when telephone conversations occurred either in the confines of  one's own home or within the shelter of a phonebooth. Aside from the fact that I really don't need or want to hear what someone is saying on the telepone, most people speak much too loudly. I can't think of anything that is more annoying and obtrusive.

We seem to lack sensitivity in other areas as well.  I live in a city where many, many people take public transportation, and there are definitely times when the busses and trains become quite crowded. It's completely understandable that one gives up a certain amount privacy when he lives in a large metropolitan area. It seems reasonable to me that from time to time the transit vehicles will be very crowded, and I will forfeit a little of my personal body space if necessary.  However, there is a fine line between "crowded" and "ridiculously crowded."  I can handle crowded... I cannot handle, "Excuse me sir, is that your armpit next to my mouth?" Seriously, is it too much trouble to wait for the NEXT bus which will be coming in just a few minutes?

Dear Emily Post... Is it true that manners are a thing of the past? Few of us will dine with diplomats and dignitaries. We do not need to be masters of etiquette. Yet, a little common courtesy goes a long way! "Please" and "Thank you" are a good place to start. I'd even be happy with an occasional "Pardon me" or "Excuse me." Beyond that, I fear I'm out of luck. As my good friend Peggy once observed, "Rude people just don't know that they're rude" Alas!

Pencils Down!

"I'd like to thank the writers!"

How many times have we heard that phrase spoken at awards shows? Think back to this year's Emmys and recall the number of times an actor, director, or producer publicly acknowledged the enormous contribution that writers make to the entertainment industry. It makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, really! Before "McDreamy" came to life on our television screens, he existed in the minds and imaginations of a team of talented writers. And, those crazy one-liners that acctress Megan Mullaly delivered each week as Karen Walker on NBC's Will & Grace  were first tossed around by the writers of the sitcom. Of course, Ms. Mullaly is a dynamite actress, and she certainly gave life and breath to one of my favorite characters of all time, but it was a writer who gave her such perfect dialogue. "Hey, hey, hey...Come on. I know what guilt is. It's one of those touchy-feely words that people throw around that don't really mean anything... You know like 'maternal' or 'addiction'." Writers are even largely responsible for the timing and flow of shows like American Idol  and Dancing with the Stars.  In fact, if you caught last night's episode of Dancing with the Stars,  you had a first-hand glimpse of that show without writers.

"Pencils Down!" Those are the words written across one picket sign that I saw in a photograph of members of the Writers Guild of America, now on strike in Los Angeles and New York City. What seems like such a simple action will certainly have a huge impact on an industry that Americans take for granted. According to one online news source, we won't truly experience the effects of this strike for many months. Most of the top shows on TV already have a stockpile of scripts ready for production. TV dramas aren't likely to begin showing reruns for a few months. Sketch shows and late night talk shows, however, are another story (forgive the pun.) Jay Leno's nightly monologue and Letterman's top-ten lists are pretty much written daily. "Live from New York, It's Saturday Night!" We'll still hear those words this weekend, but the material will be far from timely and fresh. How sad! Especially considering how the race for the 2008 White House continues to provide more than enough material for comedic scrutiny.

It isn't a surprise to see how much media coverage the Writers Guild strike is receiving. After all, Americans are more than a little addicted to the tube. Yet, in all of the coverage, I've heard very little about the reasons for this walkout, and those reasons do seem compelling, at least to me. Of course, a good reporter is going to cover the entire story and let the audience know that the strike is the result of a dispute over royalty income from show downloads on iPods and cell phones and the guild's argument in favor of renegotiating distribution of residuals from DVD sales. Beyond a mere mention of the issues at hand, very little is said. I don't think I've seen any coverage that includes a statement from the guild itself. Instead, the media seems to be focusing on the losses the network's will face should the strike continue for too long as well as communicating to TV audiences, in an almost fatalistic manner, that new episodes of their favorite shows will soon come to an abrupt end.

Now, far be it from me to take sides on such an issue, but if my arm were twisted, I'd have to side with the writers. It seems to me that they are simply asking for a share of the pot, and given the huge profits garnered through DVD sales, that pot is nothing to sneeze at. And, if current trends continue and technology continues to advance at lightening quick rates, what else might be on the horizon? The writers are simply standing up for what they feel they deserve, a share in the prosperity that their efforts have brought forth.

Nobody likes being taken for granted, and it seems that is precisely what is happening. If you asked me to tell you everything I could about my favorite television show, I could easily name the actors.  Sort of a no brainer considering they are the people on the screen each week. I'm sure I could even hum the theme song. Could I tell you the name of a writer? Not at all. Do I pay attention at all to the credits? No siree!! And yet, it is without a doubt the story that captivates me. It's the story that keeps me watching week after week. It's easy to get caught up with the familiarity and the celebrity of the actors on TV, but it is truly the writers that give us something to watch and relate to.

Perhaps this dispute would be quickly ended if the interested parties turned to the words of one of the greatest dramatic writers of all time. When these words were penned for the Elizabethan stage, television was not even imaginable. And yet, these timeless words have made it to the screen a number of times. These words have been recited by the likes of Mel Gibson and Kenneth Brannagh, portraying one of the most well-known protagonists of all time. Stepping back for a moment, one might well ask whether it is Hamlet or the playwright who is truly speaking. Regardless, those who make drama their lives work must necessarily agree. "The play is the thing!"

Books That Mattered to Me

Mark Twain once said, "The man who doesn't read good books has no advantage over the man who can't read them." Aside from the fact that some people might take issue with what may be deemed sexist language, one cannot argue with the truth in his statement. I consider myself so fortunate to have created a life for myself in which books have played a pivotal role. It has been the act of reading which has informed my conscience and my sensibilities. I am, without a doubt, a much more interesting person as well as a much more interested person because I am an avid reader.

I've been immersed in what I call "a reading life" since I was a child. Many beloved books from my childhood remain favorites even today. James and the Giant Peach by Roald Dahl was a book that amazed me in the third grade. It awakened my imagination in that magical way that books touch our souls. In the 6th grade I read Judy Blume's Then Again Maybe I Won't and realized that many of the things that I was experiencing as I grew into adolescence were not so strange after all. In the movie You've Got Mail, Kathleen Kelly (Meg Ryan) who owns a bookstore says, "When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does." I owe a lot of who I am to the books I've read.

As I continue along the path of my life, I have found that there are a few books that I continue to come back to, over and over again. Some of these titles might actually fall into the category of "great books" and might appear on lists prepared by those scholars capable of identifying a canon of sorts. Others are simply personal favorites, those books that spoke to me for one reason or another. Whatever the case may be, these are the books that have mattered to me.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee---  This is perhaps one of the very best books I've ever read. This is the beautiful story of childhood in the South. Told from the perspective of a child, this novel truly captures what it means to come of age and to learn acceptance of others. The characters are some of the most colorful and realistic characters ever created in literature. Truly a masterpiece.

The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank--- I consider this to be one of the most important books of the last century. Anne Frank's observations of humankind are incredibly profound. Written against the backdrop of World War II, Anne Frank gives a first-hand account of life in hiding from the Nazis. The honesty and innocence with which Anne records her daily experiences and her dreams for her future are necessarily juxtaposed against the haunting truth of the holocaust. This is required reading for the entire human race.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby--- After suffering a major stroke, Jean-Dominique Bauby lives the remainder of his life as an individual with "locked-in" syndrome. An amazing system of communication is developed by Bauby's caretakers which allows him to speak by blinking his eyes. The result of that communication system and Bauby's own desire to tell his story is the short but provocative book The Diving Bell and the Butterfly.  Bauby's story is one of perseverance and the strength of the human spirit.

The Prophet  by Kahlil Gibran--- This is truly one of the most beautifully written and spiritual books I've ever read. Gibran writes of universal truths in ways that are inspiring and poetic. His writing resounds with the reader's spirit expounding on wisdom that is timeless. When I read The Prophet, as I have done many times, I'm always struck by that feeling that Gibran is saying what I want to say but don't have the words to express. Perhaps he speaks for us all.

Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg--- Natalie Goldberg is a writer that I feel I know.  I started with Writing Down the Bones and then proceeded to read everything Ms. Goldberg has ever written. And, when a new book is published, I find myself reading it and savoring it like a letter from a friend. Natalie Goldberg writes about writing in a way that allows the reader to truly see into the creative process. She has a way of inspiring even the most frustrated of writers to pick up a pen and paper and just start.

The Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy--- From the very first line of this novel, I was hooked. " My wound is geography. It is also my anchorage, my port of call." Pat Conroy has a command of language that few writers have mastered. His prose is poetic and colorful. Conroy is able to paint a picture with words. Everything about his novels is multi-dimensional--the settings, the characters, and the story he unfolds. One might liken reading some books to listening to a brilliant solo violinist. Reading Pat Conroy is like hearing the entire orchestra being conducted by a master!

My Name is Asher Lev by Chaim Potok-- Asher Lev is one of my favorite characters from literature. He is my friend, and I know him. You cannot read this novel without feeling that connection with Asher Lev. When I read My Name is Asher Lev for the first time, I found myself dreaming about this young Jewish boy who is compelled to paint, the boy who is misunderstood by his father, a boy who is struggling to become a man. Chaim Potok's story is beautifully crafted and unforgettable

If You Have the Choice to Sit It Out or Dance...

My Aunt Myrtle lived to be well into her nineties. She was my mother's aunt actually, so I suppose that technically would have made her my great aunt. Nevertheless, Aunt Myrtle was one amazing lady. I suppose her longevity could be attributed, in part, to the fact that she was extremely health conscious. At her advanced age, she still walked close to two miles everyday. She would make a daily trip to a senior citizen center in Seattle for lunch and an exercise class, walking both ways. She made a conscious effort to remain active, and she maintained a busy social calendar which included a weekly bridge game.

Aunt Myrtle was a truly influential person in my life although I met her only a couple of times. Myrtle had worked hard and had invested well. As a result of her prosperity and her incredible generosity, I was able to attend college without having to apply for a single student loan. Not only did Myrtle fund my college education, but she was also a source of encouragement throughout my college career. I had seen Myrtle only when I was a very young toddler, but through telephone calls and correspondence, we were able to really get to know one another.

One of the most profound lessons I learned from Myrtle was what it means to truly live one's life to the fullest. She and her husband traveled extensively and saw much of the world. Although she did not travel much after her husband's death, Myrtle did not slow down. In her eighties, Myrtle was actively pursuing her interests. In her letters, she would tell me about taking Rhumba lessons or learning Judo. In her professional life she was a registered nurse, and after retirement, she continued to read and study about medical advancements. She even participated in a few medical studies on topics such as longevity and prevention of illness. She attended concerts and plays on a regular basis and made a concerted effort to take advantage of all those things that a city like Seattle has to offer. She loved the city, and she loved every moment of her life.

I've been thinking a lot about my Aunt Myrtle lately. I'm getting closer and closer to the age of 40, and while that is far from being old, I am noticing that I am not as "spry" as I was a couple of decades ago. I sometimes can understand how easy it can be for some people to become tired and complacent in their own lives. I know there are times when I feel that curling up in front of the television is all I want to do. It takes diligent effort to shake that feeling and to remain honestly interested in one's own life. The typical 40 year old's life really revolves around career and family. We are all pulled in so many different directions that it requires a fair amount of work to carve out an existence for oneself that is inspiring and enriching.

A few years ago, Leanne Womack recorded a beautiful song called "I Hope You Dance." Over the years, that song has become an anthem for me. The lyrics are a mother's wish for her child, "When you get the choice to sit it out or dance...I hope you dance." Well, I can honestly say I've made my choice--figuratively and literally. In February of this year, I began studying classical ballet. I signed up for the class on a bit of a whim, but I'm loving every moment. I'm experiencing that wonderful feeling of moving out of my comfort zone and learning something completely new and foreign. The feeling is exhilirating. My own venture into the world of dance has piqued my interest in the ABC television show, Dancing with the Stars.  Each week I watch as the star contestants work so hard to learn the dance routines and allow themselves to be placed in the vulnerable situation of competing on national television.

Whether we are stars or just "average Joes" like me,  each of us will only pass this way once. We really owe it to ourselves to go for the gusto. As Henry David Thoreau said it, we really have only one chance to "suck out all the marrow in life." I may look silly in my tights and ballet shoes...but, I'm glad I've chosen to dance.

My "Survivor" Soundtrack

There's a game I like to play with friends which I sometimes find very enlightening. As a total music buff myself, I find that you can tell a lot about someone by the type of music they listen to. Whenever I talk with my friends Megan, Kristine, and Amy, whom I don't see as often as I would like, I almost always ask them two questions: What are you reading? AND What are you listening to these days? I've often been turned onto new bands or books I would never have picked up otherwise.

But, I digress... Back to the game. I call it "Survivor" soundtrack. I pose the following question: You know that you are going to be sent to a deserted island for at least 9 months, and you won't see another soul while you're there. You are allowed to take any 7 CD's from your current collection with you (sorry no iPods). What do you choose to take?

Here are my picks...

1) Tapestry by Carole King-- Carole King is a master songwriter and musician. I never get tired of listening to this recording. I discovered it when I was a music major in college, decades after its release in 1971. The songs are timeless classics, many of which have been covered by other artists. I immediately fell in love with Carole King's voice, her piano playing, and her ability to write amazing songs. Tracks include You've Got a Friend, So Far Away,  and I Feel the Earth Move.

2) Joshua Tree by U2-- U2 had been around for years when Joshua Tree came out in 1987, the year I graduated from high school. I think this album was a turning point for me, and it really began to broaden my musical tastes, making them a bit more sophisticated. Several years later, I traveled to Denver to see U2's Pop tour at Mile High Stadium. Tracks include With or Without You, Where the Streets Have No Name, and I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For.

3) Lead Me On by Amy Grant-- Amy Grant is at the very top of my list of guilty pleasures. I've been a fan since the 80's, and I've witnessed the growth of Ms. Grant from a young lady singing soft Christian rock to a beautifully sophisticated woman writing really great songs. This album proves that Amy Grant can write lyrics that are meaningul and melodies that are captivating. I have always appreciated Amy's no-nonsense attitude and her honesty. Tracks include: Lead Me On, Faithless Heart, and If These Walls Could Speak.

4) Afterglow by Sarah McLachlan--Released in 2003, Afterglow is typical Sarah McLachlan. The voice is soothing and comfortable. As a writer, I always get caught up in the lyrics like "cast me gently into morning for the night has been unkind." The melodies become almost meditative at times. This is music for my soul. Tracks include Fallen, The Answer, World on Fire, and Push.

5) Listen to My Heart by Nancy Lamott--Nancy Lamott passed away in 1995 leaving a huge void in the musical world. Sadly, many people have not experienced Nancy Lamott's music. These people have no idea what they are missing. Ms. Lamott's voice was flawless, truly one of the best voices I have ever heard. She sang with an artistic purity that truly tugged at the heart. I remember the first time I heard one of her recordings. I was literally speechless, moved to tears by this voice. Tracks include: It Feels LIke Home, We Can Be Kind, I Got the Sun in the Morning, and the Secret O'Life.

6) Rent the Original Broadway Cast-- Based on Puccini's opera La Boheme, Jonathan Larson's Pulitzer Prize winning musical is truly a masterpiece. Rent is the story of young artists living in New York City. It's a story of friendship, radical acceptance of others, and what it truly means to love. I purchased the CD's before I ever had the chance to see the show. In 1999, I traveled to New York to see the show on Broadway. I saw a traveling production of the show the following year in Rapid City, South Dakota. I had just "come out," so the show had a new meaning for me. I relive that experience everytime I listen to the recordings. Tracks include: Seasons of Love, One Song Glory, Cover You, and Another Day.

7) Immaculate Collection by Madonna--Released in 1990, The Immaculate Collection was Madonna's first greatest hits compilaton. Madonna is undeniably a musical icon with an uncanny ability to remain fresh in a career that has spanned at least two decades. Like Madonna, this recording is larger than life. I've often wondered what makes a collection a "greatest hits" compilation. I've seen some such recordings that left me confused, including tracks that I cannot recall ever hearing at all. I'm not sure what the criteria for "hit song" might be in such cases. The Immaculate Collection is a rare exception to those other greatest hits recordings. In fact, as I write this "Holiday" is playing on the radio. Each track on the Immaculate Collection is a bona fide hit. Tracks include: Like a Virgin, Material Girl, Vogue, and Borderline.

There you have it. My "Survivor Soundtrack." Now, I do realize that if you asked me the same question tomorrow, I might have an entirely different list of recordings. That's the beauty of the world of musical abundance in which we live. Too much great music, too little time!