"Ishi - The Last Yahi" (1992)

Imagine being the last living person of your nationality, religion, or even just family. Now imagine having to hide in order to avoid being hunted down as a trophy. If you can possibly imagine these two scenarios successfully, then; and only then; will you fully understand the story of “Ishi – The Last Yahi”, which tells the story of an Indian named Ishi, who had fled into the foothills of California after the massacres of his fellow tribesmen in the 1860’s and 70’s.

With only a handful of warriors, their squaws, and scant supplies, the group chose to live in hiding rather than to surrender their age old customs for the white man’s world. For forty years, just as the Israelites had spent 40 years in the wilderness, Ishi and his fellow tribesmen were forced to survive in the foothills of California. Using all of their native skills they established a community, with leaders to make decisions and mete out justice, and hunters who provided the wild game on which they existed. They became a mythological presence; everyone knew they were out there; but no one had actually seen them.

And then, one day in 1911, Ishi, the last of the Yahi tribe, emerged from the wilderness half dead from starvation, to enter the white man’s world. After an initial stay in prison; there was simply no other way proposed to deal with him at the time; he was persuaded by anthropologist Alfred Kroeber to spend the last 4 years of his extraordinary life at the Museum of Anthropology in San Francisco, where he regaled visitors with his history of the Yahi people. He also told of his 40 years in exile, explaining how the tribe lived, and died in the wilderness, cut off from the life, and traditions, they had always known.

Fascinating in its detail; and with the use of photographs, some actual silent film footage, and even a rare voice recording of Yahi himself; this documentary film will make the viewer think long and hard about the foundation upon which America was built. “From sea to shining sea” takes on a whole new significance when confronted with the price paid by the people who were essentially victims of our policy of Manifest Destiny.

Fats Waller in Sormy Weather - "Ain't Misbehaving" (1943)

Fats Waller, legendary piano player, recorded this version of “Ain’t Misbehavin”’ for the 1943 film “stormy Weather.” I like this version even better than Billie Holidays because of the fun Mr. Waller is having in the performance.

“Ain’t Misbehavin’” is one of those older songs which crossed the bridge from blues to jazz before returning to its original format. There is also a great drum solo in this song  by Bob Rosen, who was from New York City.

Written by Fats Waller, collaborating with Harry Brooks on music and Andy Razaf  on lyrics, the song was first recorded in 1929. Waller’s original recording for Victor Records was later one of the highlights in the 1943 film “Stormy Weather.”  Eddie "Rochester" Anderson stated that Fats claimed the song had its origins while Fats was “lodging" in prison for back alimony; which is why he was not "misbehaving."

It has been recorded by most of the great jazz singers for the past 6 decades, including such luminaries as Anita O'Day, Billie Holiday, Eartha Kitt, Ella Fitzgerald, Django Reinhardt, Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis, Kay Starr, Frankie Laine, Art Tatum, Sonny Stitt, Sam Cooke, Johnnie Ray, Sidney Bechet, Ray Charles, Nat King Cole, Elkie Brooks, to name a few.

With the success of the 1978 musical of the same name, came renewed interest this old favorite. “Ain't Misbehavin'” is a musical tribute to the artists of the Harlem Renaissance created by Murray Horwitz and Richard Maltby, Jr., with music by various composers and lyricists. It is named after the song by Fats Waller and his co-writers. Much of the action takes place in the Cotton Club, the premier nightclub in the 1920’s through the 1950’s. All of the best jazz acts in America performed there, creating a new genre known as “swing music” while they did. The show had a good run on Broadway, even being revived in 1988, and still touring today.

For the live film version of this song, go to http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_mF-QyvBqgs

Happy 26th, Sue

This is Sue, my wife. I have written about her here and also posted photos of her before now. But this is one of my favorites. It really captures the inner light of the woman I married; so different than myself. When I see only darkness, she sees only light. That's what makes this picture so special to me. And, with all the ups and downs of marriage, I do believe we would both do it all again. That's love...

Happy 26th, Sue. Love grows.

Happy Fourth of July!

And to the rest of my fellow Americans, have a safe and happy Fourth of July. A lot of thought went into the creation of our nation; let's not allow partisan bickering to tear it all down. And, wherever you are today, "let freedom ring!"

Andy Griffith - "Whoa Mule"

Andy Griffith, the iconic star of Broadway, movies and television, has passed away this morning at the age of 87. He will be missed. Before there was an Andy Griffith Show there was Andy Griffith the Broadway Actor, who appeared in "No Time for Sergeants".

From Broadway he headed to Hollywood, where he starred with Patricia Neal in the 1957 film "A Face In the Crowd", a searing drama in which Mr. Griffith played; against type; a drifter named Dusty Rhodes, a singing vagabond who skyrockets to fame, only to come crashing back down as the result of his own ego. In that movie he really gets to show off his guitar playing and singing abilities, as well as his story telling, which is what made him famous to begin with. Look up "What Is Was Was Football" sometime.

His "Andy Griffith Show", from the early 1960's, always carried a message. A liberal Southerner during a time of great social change, his shows were like lessons in life; don't lie, cheat or steal, and above all, learn to laugh at yourself.

In the above clip from You Tube, Andy performs with the fictional Darling family on his show. In real life the group played, and recorded, as The Dillards.  Some of the younger members of that band are still performing today.

There will never be another Andy Griffith. Thanks for the music, the stories and the love. Here he is telling Opie the story of Romeo and Juliet;

Private Parts in Public Places

This is a delicate subject, one which has sparked debate between various co-workers and I over the years past. I say “past” as I no longer have co-workers; being retired; but the subject of this particular debate applies in the private sector as well. I’m talking about washing your hands when using the bathroom. Don’t take me wrong; I am a firm believer in washing your hands; and mine as well; whenever either of us use the “facilities.” My point of contention is whether, or not, this said washing of the hands should take place before, or after, using the bathroom.

I look at it in this way; when I go to use the bathroom my hands have been all over God’s creation; touching things in stores, shaking hands with people; you name it, they’ve been doing it. And, while they have been so active, they have probably picked up a few germs along the way. So, that is why I wash my hands before I use the “facilities”, as opposed to after.

Think about it; while my hands have been involved in all the aforementioned activities, my private parts have been safely ensconced in a clean pair of underwear, right where I put them after taking a shower. So, in my mind, washing my hands before makes perfect sense. I wouldn’t want to inadvertently place public germs in my most private of places.

Would you believe that I have observed men who simply walk into a rest room; right after working on their car, or digging a ditch; just unzip and spray away? Only then, after sullying their “best friend” in such a manner, do they wash their hands. I have often wondered what was on their clean “private part” that needed to be scrubbed away with so much vigor before they go back to digging the ditch.

Realistically, I do like that there are signs for restaurant employees which instruct them to wash their hands before going back to the kitchen.  That seems to make sense. I mean, when you come right down to it,  your meat should never touch my meat;  in any way, at any time. Besides, I know where my meat’s been, but I haven’t got a clue about yours.

So, in summation, I think it would be best to wash both before and after. Take this missive in whatever light you prefer; mild satire, silliness, plain ribaldry, or just the ramblings of someone with nothing to say today. Either way, I’m glad to have finally gotten this off of my chest.

Happy Birthday Mom!

This is one of my favorite pictures of my Mom and me. It was taken in July of 1957 on the beach at Jacob Riis Park. Riis Park was located just across the Marine Parkway Bridge at the end of Flatbush Avenue. That was where my parents used to take us on weekends in the summer. It was, and still is, a beautiful, wide beach, with a good amount of surf to challenge the average swimmer. Lying next to us, on the right, are Lee; who is laying down; and her husband Donnie, two friends of my parents who used to accompany us on outings. Their daughter,; I think her name is Janet; is the little girl in between them.

My parents were sticklers about bringing any sand home from the beach. To that end we were required to remove our bathing suits prior to heading back to the car. My Mom would hold up a towel as I changed from my swimsuit to short pants. Apparently my father could not resist taking this picture, which seems to have annoyed my mother.

The years pass quickly; people come and go in our lives; but none remain more firmly fixed in our minds than our mothers. They were alternately loving, annoying, understanding, and intrusive. That was their job. Along the way they gave us memories which have lasted  a lifetime. Although my mother’s later years were marred by illness, she still managed to leave enough of her tenderness behind to last me forever. This photo is one of those moments, captured in time.

Happy 83^rd Mom!

"Heat Wave" Martha Reeves and the Vandellas (1965)

I can think of no more appropriate song for the current weather situation than this "oldie but goodie" from 1965. Many of my happiest memories seem to be centered around that year. Being 11 years old was a magical time for me in Brooklyn, where I grew up. And summertime was the ultimate season. School was out by the end of June, not to be re-visited again until after Labor Day in September. Those 8 weeks seemed eternal. There was so much time, and so much to do.

As the years passed by, and I got older, the summers got shorter; as did the years. But whenever the temperature soars above 95, or so, and I hear this song, I am 11 years old again, riding my bicycle down the shady side streets of Brooklyn. And, in my mind I am headed for the beach with a towel wrapped under the seat.