The Crusaders - Blue Note - NYC - 1.11. 07

Classic NYC nite. Joined by Stan Goodman, we sat next to a big bald guy and his partner and 2 members of Blood Sweat & Tears.

The Lineup: Joe Sample/Keys, Wilton Felder/Sax, Ray Parker Jr./Guitar, Steve Gadd/Drums, Joe Sample Jr./Bass, some Dutch guy/Trombone

The Set included Free as the Wind, Creepin, A Ballad for Joe, The Territory, So Far Away, and Put It Where You Want It

Marvin Belkin

Marvin was as close as I’ve come to a dazzling urbanite, which I define as:
- Preferring to live in NYC without a car
- Exhibiting great joy from NYC's gastronomical pleasures – Zabar's, Chinatown, a bagel & a shmear.
- Attending opening night at the MET wearing a Tux and white satin scarf – and pulling it off!

He was a character in the best sense of the word. Tall and lanky – the body of a NY Jewish Basketball player from the 50s, married to my cousin Gaye (who was 15 yrs. his junior (she was barely legal when they met - how do guys pull that off!) they were Marvin Gaye. With their ceremony on top of the Southgate Hotel, across from the Metropolitan Museum of Art on 5th and 81st, my image of them is their rooftop wedding picture, above the city, Marvin in his tux.

A testament to Marvin the man, vs. Marvin the dazzling urbanite, was that both of his wives (Amy and Gaye) attended and spoke at his graveside funeral, as did Jeffrey (son/clone) and business associate Elisa. They all painted eloquent pictures in fine detail, of a man I described above in broad brushstrokes. It was a terribly beautiful service.

A classic - 15 minutes after walking into the grief and stricken house, Aunt Marilyn gave me and Fran-Ellen a tour of it.

McGuire's No Brainer

Message to Mark. Apologize. According to reports the only golfer who'll play with you in your gated community in Southern California is OJ ( if he can find golf gloves that fit him).

America's culture is very forgiving. Everyone with a media presence is required to reinvent themselves (lets face it they are products) each decade - so it's time for the new, improved Mark McGuire - with no transfat, I mean steroids. It's no big deal.

In fact, think about those remaining hard core steroid using teenagers who can't get off the cream. They'll listen to you - if you look right into the camera and say you're sorry, and tell us why you did what you did (it wasn't banned when you started, once you were in the thick of it you didn't have the balls - no pun intended* to stop, and when you got in front of the committee you just froze, like Beltran looking at Wainwright's called 3 Sir Charles in game 7 of the NLCS).

Remember, you're not alone, I bet that not only are plenty of guys who are going through the same torment you are, but there's plenty who've come out of it on the other side that will be there to support you. By the looks of you these days you've come clean physically - now its time to come clean emotionally - you'll be the bigger man for it.

* I believe steroid use shrinks your testes - but this is by no means conclusive

Musings

Ever come up with (what you feel is) a great insight into human behavior, observation, or idea? I perceive that this happens to me quite regularly (I know, time for a drug test), and I'm terrified that these thoughts will leave my brain as or more quickly than they've entered, so I've decided to create this blog, and label these particular neuron firings as musings. Here we go....

College Football: the Dawning of December Delerium

Boise State's win over the Sooners of Oklahoma not only goes down as the most exciting college football game ever played (the deciding play was a Statue of Liberty where the QB fakes a pass to one side of the field without the ball in his hand - it's hidden in his other hand behind his back - while a back takes the ball zooms to the other side of the end zone, makes a beeline to the cheerleaders, gets down on one knee, proposes, and the cheerleader accepts and jumps into his arms - you can't make this shit up!),

but it ushers in the era of December Delirium (read March Madness for college football) where the mid majors get their due, are legitimized, and show that "on any given Bowl Day" there are now more than the 15 old guard teams that can beat the brains out of each other.

Removing that objection, coupled with the David vs. Goliath theater that these scenarios provide, will lure enough TV money to get everybody paid, which will enable them to acquiesce to the CFA Playoff movement and get er done.

The good news - we'll have a true national champion. The bad news - if you think bowl game sponsorship names are horrible now.......

The War for your TV screen

Last night I got to watch Apple's war on Home Entertainment in our family room! We've got a TV at one end of the couch (in this corner weighing 35 lbs., at 27 inches, 4 years of age - SONY Wega), and on Carol's desk at the other end of the room (weighing 12 lbs., our Apple G5 in wide screen format).

And now that Jake downloads The Office the day after it's on network television, we can watch TV shows and movies on Carol's screen - it even comes with a remote!

Do you love your job?

I recently met with a VP of Sales for a Background Checking company and this guy loves his job in sales management. He wasn't the most exuberant guy n the world, but relative to his personality, he had that glow (kinda like a pregnant woman glow, for men).

It reminded me of another guy I know, he's a podiatrist who specializes in runners (he is one himself, when he stands sideways you can't see him) and he has that glow too, which leads us to the chicken and egg scenario, do these guys just love life and would they feel this exuberant regardless of what they do, is it in their nature? or did they find their true calling???

Deena Landsberg

To me Deena Landsberg was/will always be Auntie D. And to Auntie D, I was always “Havidle”, or “my favorite nephew”, to which, my first knee-jerk response was always “I bet you say that to all your nephews”, which was countered with either;

a hearty laugh

a “no sonny boy”

or an embellishment on her original compliment

With this as the basis for our conversations, from as far back as I can remember - albeit, that doesn’t account for much these days, I am very warmly biased towards my lovely late Aunt.

Auntie D was bigger than life. Flamboyantly dressed, in one of her “signature” flowing black wigs, with enthusiastic passion in her voice – which provided non-stop candor, who could touch her? I always thought she should have been a chanteuse at the Village Voice, Blue Note, or Sweet Basil’s.

Of course I assume there was another side to Deena, a side that I never asked about, which was/is none of my business, but which I always wondered about, and inspired by her candor I mention it here.

Here was a woman who, along with her husband had so much passion for life, yet, at least in later years, it didn’t seem like that passion was shared – at least not publicly. This made her passion, her “joie de vive”, all the more impressive.

When I think of Deenie now, she’s up there holding court with her family and friends, and with Julie, looking down with nachas, unchained from any physical and social constraints that limited her/them and their relationship, just waiting for the next time her sons/my cousins Norman and Joel perform, or better yet - play together, looking forward to nudging the rest of their gang in the ribs grinning, “that’s my Normie, that’s my Joelie”, and sharing in this extended set for eternity.