Monthly Archives: November 2013

Lee

07 Thursday Nov 2013

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Lee

A rock star.

BY LOIS DESOCIO

I once described my friend Lee – who died this past Tuesday – as “so much cooler than the rest of us.” That remains true. But I would add that Lee, more than anyone else I’ve ever met, aged into his 50s with unmatched elegance.

Elegance that endured. An elegance that was born and bred into him. An elegance that defined him, and was the essence of the no-nonsense, intrepid determination that took him to the top of his field as a drummer. Elegance that faced off forces-unpredicted and hurdle after hurdle. Hurdles that would have halted a lesser man.

I will carry the lessons I learned from Lee for the rest of my life. I had often thought of Lee when the stuff of life, that we all have to ward off at times, would come at me with a thrust. I was inspired by his grace and his grit.

Lee was the drummer for Joan Jett & the Blackhearts from 1981 to 1986. It’s his unrelenting, crazy-with-the-sticks, pounding that drives the iconic “I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll.”

Lee on drums

He was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1993. In 2006, I was interviewing him for a magazine article. I was just getting to know him and his wife, Maura. We had mutual friends, we had spent News Year’s Eve together, but I had yet to spend a big chunk of time with Lee.

We had just sat down in his living room for the interview. I had only been there for about 15 minutes, but he had already given me about 25 minutes worth of smiles and chuckles. His wit was quick.

We moved into the den. He wanted to turn on his stereo to play a piece of music for me. His hand started shaking as he moved it towards the knob to turn on the stereo. I instinctively jumped in and offered to do it. He wouldn’t have it.

He cursed his hand, made a joke about his hand, and then cursed his hand again. He could have asked me to turn it on. He could have decided that he didn’t want me to see his hand shaking. Or he could have decided that it was simply easier to just use the other hand. But he didn’t.

Because Lee didn’t settle. Instead, he grabbed his wrist with the steady hand and commandeered his trembling fingers to the knob, and turned on the music. We did a four-hand high five.

And that was my Lee-moment. That’s when I got to know the Lee that those who had known him for decades already knew. He never gave up. He insisted on excellence. He remained gracious in spite of unimaginable odds and resistances. He did not stand for mediocrity.

So “cooler than the rest of us,” falls a bit short. Lee once told me, that to be a good drummer, you must first understand the basic operation of what goes into forming a solid beat, and then … “make it your own.”

So just as a Lee Crystal drum-beat was solid, and was his own, so was his pluck, his mettle, and his elegance. All outlined with cool.

Like Two Peas in a Pod, We Rake Together

06 Wednesday Nov 2013

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Acorns 1

BY MARGO D. BELLER

It will be another good year for hawks, I think as my rake uncovers another cache of nuts beneath the leaves. For weeks, I’ve heard the rifle-like retort of falling nuts smacking the hoods and windows of cars in my neighbors’ driveways. It will be a bumper crop this year. The more nuts, the more squirrels and chipmunks that run around collecting them, which makes them less-wary targets for the raptors. The more nuts, the more to cache, and later to feed young squirrels and chipmunks, which creates yet more food for the raptors.

This is what I am thinking as I rake. As the years go on, I like this annual chore less and less. My mind wanders. I tell myself I am outside and exercising in a more useful way than riding a stationary bicycle. But my arms, legs and back ache. I do not like that. Most of my neighbors hire a service. For them, if you have a lawn, particularly a large one, you hire someone to maintain it. We try to do it ourselves. One mows, the other pulls weeds. One puts down seed and fertilizer, the other cuts back overgrown hedges, and puts in flowers. Both of us rake or use the little electric blower to move the fallen autumn leaves.

At this moment I have finished using the blower in the backyard to push the elm, oak and maple leaves into a large pile that I will rake into a blue tarp. My husband (MH) is using the big rake to bring the locust pods on the front lawn down to the curb. He will join me out back when he’s done.

As I rake, I think of the town official who thought locust trees would be a good choice to line our quiet suburban street, not knowing then that locust roots push up sidewalks and streets, and the pods of female trees create a thick mat on the lawn unless they are removed. Every year, I think I would like to punch that town official in the nose.

I hear a Carolina Wren sing, and that switches my train of thought back to birds. There are eagles, hawks and falcons flying south for the winter, perhaps several miles above me as I work. The more nut-fed squirrels they eat, the more young raptors there will be, too.

As the tarp fills, MH quietly joins me with his rake. At first we are in each other’s way. I chide him for putting more leaves under the tarp than on it. But from long experience with leaves, and each other, we start working together while trying to stay out of each other’s way. It has been like this in our marriage, too.

We fill the tarp until it is nearly full and then each grab two corners, and pull it to the curb to empty. Then we go back and repeat the process, again and again, until we are done, or can take no more. Whichever comes first.

Ancient Cities: The Best Has Already Been?

05 Tuesday Nov 2013

Posted by in Men, Travel

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Ephesus 1

Ruins in Ephesus. All photos by Frank Terranella.

BY FRANK TERRANELLA

As I look back on my recent trip to Greece and Turkey, a line from an old John Denver song comes to mind:” … life is old there.”

Here in America, there are few traces of ancient civilizations. Towns more than 400 years old are rare on the East Coast, and practically unknown west of the Mississippi. Yet in Greece, it’s easy to visit the ruins of cities that were already a thousand years old in Julius Caesar’s time. The same goes for Turkey.

We visited amazing ruins of the city of Ephesus in Turkey. Our tour guide told us that recent excavations have revealed evidence that people were living there in 6000 B.C. However, the ancient city of Ephesus dates back only to about 1000 B.C.  The Greeks established it as an important trading post in Asia Minor. This made the Ephesians wealthy, and their wealth is reflected in the buildings they built, such as libraries and amphitheaters, that can still be seen today.

Ephesus was a major center for the development of Christianity because Saint Paul preached there and Saint John lived there (possibly along with Mary, the mother of Jesus).  There was even an ecumenical council there in the 5th century.

During Roman times, Ephesus was booming. Cicero came from Rome to pay a visit. Even Antony and Cleopatra came to see the sights.

Like all great civilizations, decline came to Ephesus. The city was invaded by all the usual suspects – the Persians, the Romans, the Goths, and eventually the Ottoman Turks. Meanwhile, the city’s importance as a commercial center declined as the harbor was slowly silted up.

Visiting today, one can easily imagine the majesty of the ancient city. There are the remains of great buildings everywhere. Thousands of Ephesians engaged in commerce, worshipped at the many churches and temples, congregated at the magnificent library, and used the secret tunnel to the brothel across the street.

There’s nothing like this in America. And I think I’m glad of that. There’s a feeling in Ephesus and Athens and Olympia and scores of other sites of ancient cities in this part of the world that their glory years are behind them.

Acropolis (Athens)

The Acropolis in Athens, Greece.

The people of the Mediterranean live with constant reminders of the former greatness of their cities. And perhaps that gives them the idea that no matter what they do, they cannot surpass the greatness their ancestors achieved. That’s a depressing idea. And one that is foreign to Americans. Most of the time, we still believe that the best is yet to come. And that’s what drives innovation. Life is new here. And that keeps us all young.

Time Flies Quickly (and Backwards) on the Internet

04 Monday Nov 2013

Posted by in Concepts

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BY JULIE SEYLER

2013
2012
2011
2010
2009
2008
2007
2006
2005
2004
2003
2002
2001
2000
1999
1998
1997
1996
1995
1994
1993
1992
1991
1990
1989
1988
1987
1986
So I am filling out relevant personal data online to obtain the cheapest airline ticket possible, and my date of birth is required. I click “1” for the date and scroll down to October for the month. Then I must enter the year. Up pops 1988, and I start scrolling down and down, past
1985
1984
1983
1982
1981
1980
1979
1978
1977
1976
1975
1974
1973
1972
1971
1970
and I am still not there! I ealize that people born in 1973, the year I graduated high school, are so young.  They are only 40. Even though it seems like yesterday, it really was a while ago. Anyway, I keep scrolling.
1969
1968
1967
1966
1965
1964
1963
1962
1961
1960
1959
1958
1957
1956
And bingo! I finally hit 1955.

Gosh. It is so far from the top, and with each passing year so much closer to the bottom. Today, online, the oldest year you can be born is 1893. In 47 more years it will be 1955. What a way to visualize time marching forward and backward.

Every Dog Should Have a Good Day Because Dogs Are People

01 Friday Nov 2013

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Dog reading

Photo by Julie Seyler.

BY LOIS DESOCIO

I’ve been reminded lately that “Dogs are People,Too.” Not only by Gregory Berns’ piece in The Times about his research on “how dogs’ brains work and, even more important, what they think of us humans,” but by my 10-year-old Border Collie mix, Tela, who not only doesn’t think much of me lately, but whose brain has been working much like that of a terrible-two-year-old child.

For six weeks now, she’s been barking, and barking some more, whenever I leave.

Our recent move from a house to an apartment has been an adjustment for her. But I know her. It’s not that she misses me. I think she misses her inveterate, mom’s-leaving routine:

A head-tilt. Then a walk to, and a plop under, her favorite hallway bench. Once the all-glass back door closed, she would sit at it – our gatekeeper. She had a full view of her favorite pee spot, her favorite step, her sun spot on the driveway, and all the comings and goings at her house.

So I thought I had figured out how to help her adjust to the move. I brought her there for a month, almost every day, before we moved in. My new hallway is a carpet of knarled doggie toys. I put her favorite bench in full view of the apartment door. Not enough. She can’t see out. She’s stressed. And she’s giving me a (dog) run for my money.

After a quick chat with the resident dog whisperer, and a mini-onslaught of notes slipped under my door from my neighbors – and then my neighbors on the floors below and above – I took, and put into action, the reams of advice:

  • A low-dose static-pulse, no-bark collar (made her bark more).
  • A citronella-spray, no-bark collar (apparently she likes citronella – it made her bark more).
  • Sneak out.
  • Give her a toy filled with peanut butter every time you leave.
  • Give her real bacon from the pan smothered in peanut butter, stuffed in her favorite toy, and stashed under her favorite bench before you leave (regurgitated on my living room rug).
  • And “just tell her not to bark.”

Almost six weeks in, and hundreds of dollars later, she was still barking.

So, since dogs are people, Tela and I now do what many people do when they are stressed – we get down on a mat and pose in twists, turns, bends, inversions and downward dogs. We do yoga together.

I get up extra early. I roll out my mat in the living room, and do an hour of Yoga Burn with Tela. She loves to lay on the pink rubber mat. She rubs her nose all over it. Then she does her butt-in-the-air stretch, and stays by my side until I’m done. In her new sangfroid state, she then reposes herself at her new favorite spot on the couch by the window. She stays there as I, in my new, daily state of composedness, make my way out the door.

Dog before she discovered yoga:

Tela face

Dog in post-yoga, sun-soaked Zen:

tela-couch

So as of three days ago, we went three days with no barking. (I’m pretending there was no relapse last night, because I’m calm.) My dog seems to be getting it down.