BERT and ERNIE

One of the photographs that I exhibited this Fall was called "Claymation Scraps," an image that I shot in Florence, Italy, where Sesame Street is producing a new series of Bert and Ernie stories, realized in claymation.


My friend Steve attended the opening of the show, and he was particularly drawn to this image. Steve is an actor who had a successful career on a popular soap opera.....until he was about 45. Then they wrote him out in favor of a new "young stud" whom they assumed would be more attractive to their female viewing audience.

Steve paused in front of the Bert and Ernie photograph, and then said "I know exactly how they feel."

DAZZLING MACKEY SAX CONCERTO PREMIERE

John Mackey's latest composition, the CONCERTO FOR SOPRANO SAX AND WIND ENSEMBLE, lives up to his reputation for rhythmically challenging, jazz/dance influenced, audience-pleasing pieces for wind ensemble, and then some. Local saxophonist Lois Hicks-Wozniak rose to the challenge, playing the premiere performance of this powerful work with passion, fire and virtuosity.
Lois Hicks-Wozniak is a member of the excellent Ridgewood Concert Band, which joined with consortium of 27 bands ranging from the U.S. Navy Band to the Dallas Wind Symphony, as well as a whole slew of universities, to commission the work. Dallas had the World Premiere with the composer in attendance several weeks ago, but each commissioning ensemble gets its own "premiere," as well. On Friday night Lois did the honors for Ridgewood, with a performance so electrifying that she may well have recorded the definitive performance of this memorable new work.

Lois and I have been friends for a number of years (and in the interest of full disclosure, I should say that on occasion I sing with her in a vocal trio ensemble). One of the things I love about her as a saxophonist is the range of tone and styles that she handles with ease, ranging from classical to jazz and beyond. The Mackey piece enabled her to exhibit the full extent of her formidable technique.

The Concerto is in five movements, and between the Prelude and the Finale are three movements whose elemental titles suggest that we might be in a Zen monastery rather than an acoustically-optimized church sanctuary in Ridgewood, New Jersey: (II) Felt, (III) Metal, and (IV) Wood. To my ear, the Prelude was the least successful of all the movements, with Mackey writing a dense wall of sound for the wind ensemble that obscured the sound of the soprano sax. It was evident, looking at Lois, that she was playing a series of complex, powerful runs on the saxophone, but it was impossible to hear. She told me later that she said ruefully to the composer, “John, you can’t write quadruple Forte for a wind band — that’s like throwing meat to the lions.”

Fortunately, the Prelude was brief, and then we were into “Felt,” a jazzy movement that allowed Hicks-Wozniak to showcase the smoky, sultry edge that she can bring to her tone. This movement was also striking in its technical demands, as she appeared to be grabbing big handfuls of notes that covered the full range of the instrument in a single run. It ended with an abrupt, ascending run by the sax and the wind section that was almost a throwaway — seemingly casual, perfectly executed…and then silence. If there is an award for sheer numbers of notes on the page, Mackey may have garnered it for this movement, and the quality of the playing by this ensemble was flawless throughout this very difficult piece.

I suppose “Metal” received its title because it opens in classic Mackey fashion with percussion in the dominant position, in this case metallic instruments such as chimes and xylophone. However, “Metal” is an odd name for a movement that opens up into a hauntingly beautiful, heartbreakingly lyrical series of musical “conversations” between the sax and several soloists in the orchestra. The thematic statements were powerfully emotional, but never sentimental. Particularly moving were the exchanges between First Clarinetist Richard Summers and Hicks-Wozniak’s plaintive soprano sax.

As I listened to “Metal,” I began to feel that we were experiencing a breakthrough for composer John Mackey. He is still quite young — just 34 — and when music historians look back, I suspect this Concerto for Soprano Sax may be a turning point. I heard significant differences from his previous, signature work (award-winning, popular pieces such as Redline Tango and Turbine). Mackey’s earlier work is characterized by intricately difficult rhythms and huge, percussion-driven walls of sound, but to me, they are somewhat lacking in lyricism….bereft of memorable themes or melodies. That is no longer an issue. Listening to these memorable, affecting themes, I felt as though we were hearing a maturing Mackey.

“Wood” opens with a hushed, sultry exchange between the soprano sax and marimba, and it is simply an extraordinary tango. Listening, it was easy to imagine that Mackey was born and raised in Buenos Aires, rather than in New Philadelphia, Ohio. Hicks-Wozniak played the sensual melodies with relish, seeming at times to dance with her instrument. She laughed later, telling me that “For a minute, I considered bringing a rose with me onstage, to hold between my teeth.” The illusion was there, rose or no rose. And again, rather than typical Mackey fireworks, this movement ends quietly, with the marimba and double bass restating the theme a final time. Hicks-Wozniak would like to see this movement published as a reduction for piano and soprano sax. “It will get played, over and over.” She’s right.

Like the second movement, the Finale was an exercise in virtuosity, with huge cascades of notes for the entire ensemble. It appeared that balance would again be an issue, but conductor Dr. Christian Wilhjelm did a masterful job, his sensitive conducting enabling the soprano sax to be heard over the signature Mackey wall of sound. It was at times humorous to watch him — with one hand urging the ensemble intoa crescendo, while the other hand, palm outstretched, gingerly pushed them back. It was an exercise in “come here/go away” that was ultimately quite successful in fine-tuning the sound.

The cadenza was brilliantly played, and in a surprising moment, ended quietly, on a half-tone dissonance held by the sax & a single, E-Flat Clarinet — a dissonance so exquisite that I felt as though I had bees buzzing in my ears as the sound gradually died away. The concerto ended with a huge, saucy blast of sound from the entire ensemble.

As the audience erupted in applause, Hicks-Wozniak turned to the band, her arms thrust above her head in triumph, acknowledging each section by pumping her fists in the air. Her instinct to acknowledge the tremendous accomplishment of her bandmates before accepting her own accolades from the audience was spontaneous and touching.

GEOCACHING :: WHERE YOU ARE THE SEARCH ENGINE!

This past Friday, I taught a seminar called "Introduction to Geocaching" at the 40th Annual Conference of the New York State Outdoor Education Association. NYSOEA Conference

For those of you not familiar with geocaching, think of it as a HIGH TECH TREASURE HUNT….a hide-and-seek game where you get clues from websites like Geocaching.com and then go out and search for caches using a handheld GPS. It is variously described as a sport, a game, or a hobby - it really depends on the interests of the user. No matter what you call it, this is an activity in which you not only enjoy the outdoors, you learn navigation skills, follow encrypted clues and use your wits! When you find the cache and open it, you sign the logbook, if you take something you leave something (there are all sorts of little treasures), and then you go back to the web and log your visit.

This has spawned a whole range of specialized types of caches - I particularly enjoy finding the ones known as "hitchhikers." These are items designed to travel. When you find one in a cache, you take it and move it to another cache site, logging the journey both in the logbooks and online. For teachers, this presents a digital "Flat Stanley" opportunity, where a class could stash an item, give instructions and background about what they are trying to do (e.g. see if an item can touch down in all 50 states), and then follow the progress online. There are currently 479,630 active caches worldwide - so the range of possibilities is truly endless.

We're all struggling with how to get kids outdoors - they are locked to their computers, TV, IM, cell phones. Gecaching brings it all together, fueled by the thrill of a game/search /treasure hunt. Along the way, you can teach about respect for nature ("Cache in, Trash Out" is the geocacher's motto), and have fun outdoors. I have worked for many years in educational kids' media, and this kind of multisensory engagement around natural sciences, mathematics, and decoding of clues (the underpinning of early Literacy) is a powerful learning tool (to say nothing of being totally addictive!).

Following the seminar on Friday, I took five people out to Rip Van Winkle Lake, where I had pre-scouted two good caches - scenic location, not too far from each other, both with hitchhikers (one a registered "Travel Bug"). They all handled the GPS and found both caches without any help from me - it was very satisfying. And, it was delightful to be in the woods with these professional naturalists. They identified everything - plants, leaves, berries, tracks, scat (droppings). I learned at least as much in an hour in the woods with them as they learned from me about geocaching.

A UNIQUE TAKE ON "TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD"

My friend Cas Hyman is working in the theater again - and are we lucky to have him back in that genre! Cas directed a stage adaptation of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird," which opened this past Wednesday night at the Intiman Theater in Seattle (Intiman wins Tony as best regional theater). I traveled to Seattle mid-week, arriving in time to catch a preview performance as well as opening night, before hopping on a red eye and heading back to NY.

I have worked with Cas on and off for many years in children's television, and one of his great strengths has always been casting and working with child actors. That talent was critical in this production, since the story is told from the point of view of 8-year-old Scout, along with her brother Jem and friend Dill. Young Kealon Whittaker shone in the role of Scout - she convincingly portrayed the cocky tomboy to frequent laughter from the audience, and was heartbreakingly bewildered as she tried to understand what was happening when the lynch mob threatened Atticus as he sat guard outside the jailhouse where the accused rapist, the Negro Tom Robinson, was being held.

Cas and scenic designer Alec Hammond went way out on a limb with the set, which was a heightened, symbolic representation of small town Maycomb, Alabama, dominated by a blood red tree and red kitchen chairs, of all shapes and sizes, suspended from the ceiling by nooses. The dangling, "lynched" chairs overhead served to pull the audience straight into the drama, which we were to be anyway, as the lawyers argued their cases to us, the jury.

I was particularly moved by the musical choices he made for the play. Hyman opened up the script to include the hymn "Blessed Assurance." We first hear it when Calpurnia (in a warm and nuanced portrayal by Josephine Howell) sings it under her breath as she folds laundry on the front porch. Rev. Sykes (William Hall Jr.) arrives to ask for extra donations to help Tom Robinson's family, and he joins in. Then the white neighbor, Maudie Atkinson (Patti Cohenour, known to Broadway theatergoers in the role of Signora Naccarelli from The Light in the Piazza), joins in from her nearby porch. Both women are powerful singers, and the moment is transcent - until they are angrily shushed by Mrs. Dubose for making so much confounded noise! Later in the play Calpurnia reprises a halting, poignant version of the song, her arms sheltering the children, when they hear the terrible news that Tom Robinson has been killed.

I asked Cas how he had chosen this piece of music, and he said that he'd been listening to his iPod on "shuffle," and Blessed Assurance came on, sung by Gladys Knight. "I listened to the words," he said, "and I knew that I had to use this song." He went on to say that he believed that the promise in these words would have enabled Calpurnia and other Negroes in Maycomb to endure the daily injustices and cruelty of life in the Alabama in the 1930s.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God.
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

refrain:
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angles descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest;
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

In addition, Cas asked composer and harmonica virtuoso Grant Dermody to write an understated "Scout's theme" and other incidental music for the production. Sean Phillips, the actor who played Tom Robinson, also appeared as an anonymous harmonica player, who casually played from various spots (up in the tree, leaning on a fence) at critical moments in the story. Talking to Dermody later, I was stunned to learn that he taught Phillips how to play harmonica for this production! To hear his haunting, soulful playing, one never could have guessed that he's only been playing for a few weeks.

A word here about the Intiman Theater and its relationship to the greater Seattle community. I was invited to the opening night, pre-theater dinner, where I was seated next to actor Tom Skerritt ("A River Runs Through It"), a longtime Seattle resident and charming, if somewhat ascerbic, dinner companion! Of course, all the theater's patrons and sponsors were being feted. But also present were the members of the "Community Committee," a number of whom spoke to the assembled group. The Intiman is particularly proactive, with each of their plays, in trying to discern the core message of the work, and then reaching out to try to bring that message (along with the production) to numerous schools and other community groups. In the case of "To Kill a Mockingbird," Atticus' admonition to Scout and Jem that they need to "walk in the other person's shoes" before criticizing them is a powerful community rallying message. The passion and diversity of the committee members was moving and inspiring. I filled out my card and became an Intiman supporter right at the table.

Cas has many friends in the television industry in both NY and LA. Most of them will probably not see this production, but they would not be surprised at its excellence. I hope he is able to work in the theater again and often.

FAREWELL, MEG MURRY

It is 6am, and I write this with tears streaming down my cheeks as I've learned of the death of the brilliant writer Madeleine L'Engle, author of my favorite book, "A Wrinkle in Time." It will not have escaped discerning readers that this blog, Tesseractive Pictures, derives its name from that book and the tesseract that allows Meg and her baby brother Charles Wallace to time travel as they try to save their father. I remember myself as a child, arguing vehemently with my own father, an eminently practical engineer who had no use for science fiction or fantasy. I insisted that the idea of time as the fourth dimension, accessed by "wrinkling" time, was certainly true. It had to be. The way L'Engle wrote about it in the book was so logical and compelling, I was certain that it could be proven to be true (as indeed it still may be). And besides, Mrs. Whatsit said so.

The last time I cried over Madeleine L'Engle was eight years ago, when I was reading "A Wrinkle in Time" aloud to my daughter Jules, then a second grader. We got to the part at the end when Meg is steeling herself to take on the all-powerful IT, who has captured the brain of her beloved little brother, Charles Wallace. Meg knows she has to go, but is terribly afraid, as she cannot imagine how she can overcome his power. She is a crusty underachiever who is struggling with self-esteem issues - hardly the person who is likely to be a hero, and she knows it. The stubbornness that often infuriates the people who know Meg is an asset at this moment - she simply refuses to give up.

As I was reading, I started to cry. My daughter looked at me curiously. "Mommy, why are you crying so hard?" she asked.

"I am crying because I am being Meg, and she is very afraid," I replied, and kept on reading aloud and crying.

Meg gets closer and closer to the moment of truth, still not able to think of anything that she could possibly have that would defeat IT. "WAIT! I know...I KNOW!" Jules said excitedly. "It's LOVE." Which of course, made me break down in sobs.

The climax of the final Harry Potter book turns on this same realization, as Harry defeats Voldmort through the power of love. J.K. Rowling has been widely praised for creating a mythology based on a rich and nuanced presentation of the battle between good and evil, even touching occasionally on theology. I like this very much about her writing. But, Madeleine L'Engle did it first, and she did it better.

I once attended a reading by L'Engle, in the old Brentanos Bookstore, on Fifth Avenue. I perched on the edge of a bookcase in the children's section, behind the kids sprawled all over the floor, listening to her read from her latest story. When she finished reading she talked to the children about the process of writing, and described an incident that is quoted in today's NY Times obituary. She was in the habit of reading aloud to her son whatever she had written while he was at school each day. On this particular day, she was reading the chapter from "The Arm of the Starfish" in which the character Joshua dies. Her son started to cry, and insisted that she needed to go back and re-write it so that Joshua wouldn't die. She told him that she couldn't - "that was simply what had happened, and there was nothing I could do to change it."

L'Engle's writing had a searing, enduring impact on my way of thinking about myself, first as a young girl who was often as complicated and prickly as Meg, then as a woman and mother (Meg's mother, a beautiful scientist absent-mindedly cooking dinner on a bunson burner, has long been my idealized role model!). She also inspired me to continue to be a dreamer, a woman of faith, and to eventually become a writer. As I learn of her death, I thank her, once again, for these gifts.
Madeleine L'Engle - New York Times Obit

DESERT ISLAND DISKS

Dateline: Seattle. Tallis Scholars Summer School

We've had an informative lecture each afternoon from one of our tutors. Today was something different. Andrew Carwood and Janet Coxwell did a live version of the venerable BBC 4 Radio programme, Desert Island Disks. The format of the program is simple - the interviewer (played by Jan) asked the guest (played by Andrew) to imagine that they are going to be left on a desert island. The guest plays excerpts from the ten recordings he must have with him, as well as naming the book he would take (in addition to the Bible and complete works of Shakespeare, which are already magically on the island!), and a single inanimate, totally useless item.

We learned a lot about Andrew and his journey to where he is today, and the end was quite bittersweet, as he is leaving the group to take up the prestigious post of Music Director at St. Paul's Cathedral in London.

Andrew Carwood addresses the group. (Photo by Bill Pannill)

The exercise got me thinking about my own choices. My ten disks would be:

1. Monserrat Caballé 's recording of Puccini's Tosca, so that I'd have the heartbreaking aria "Visi D'arte."

2. The Fauré Requiem. The imploring lines of "In Paradisum" are so powerful. Can't sing it without crying.

3. Traffic’s 1972 album John Barleycorn Must Die so that I can dance to “Glad.”

4. The Who: The Ultimate Collection so that I can sing “Who Are You?” when I want to get my circulation going.

5. Benjamin Britten The Ceremony of Carols. I love the mix of Medieval and Contemporary in this cycle.

6. Mendelssohn Elijah. What great drama in this oratorio! And, I love to sing the a cappella SSA trio “Lift Thine Eyes.” Guess I'll have to do one part at a time on the desert island.

7. Stravinsky Oedipus Rex. I know this isn’t his most brilliant work, but what a dark, moody, brooding choral piece. Love it.

8. Chopin Nocturnes, as recorded by Artur Rubenstein. Sometimes you just need to weep, and this will do it.

9. Leonard Bernstein’s Chicester Psalms. For me, Bernstein is the quintessential American sound (and will endure better than Aaron Copland, whom I also love, on my desert island).

10. The Theme from Peter Gunn, by Henri Mancini. Absolutely killer. One of my favorite pieces of music to drive by. This masterpiece was our inspiration for the theme song of The Upside Down Show, a preschool television series that just won the Emmy for best title sequence.

My Book: Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson. This remarkable book has been described a transcendent novel about fathers and sons, loneliness and love, faith and family. I see it as an exploration of what it means to be in a state of grace. Every word is chosen with care – worth reading and re-reading.

An inanimate, absolutely useless object: A tiny Miraculous Medal, given to me by my grandmother. The edges are beveled in alternating directions so that the metal glints in the light. When I was little, I thought the Blessed Virgin was surrounded by jewels.

SPRING DISPATCH FROM STORM KING MOUNTAIN

Like all gardeners, I have been mostly out of commission for the past three weeks, engaged in the annual race to clean up the remnants of the autumn leaves and get seeds and plants into the ground after the danger of frost is past, but before it gets too hot for delicate seedlings. Normally I take a week's vacation from my job specifically to work in the garden. This year, since I'm working at home, I had the luxury of spending quality time, and it has really paid off.

My house is situated deep in the forest on the north face of the mountain. Though it is a beautiful spot full of native wildlife, it also means that I am engaged in an ongoing struggle with the deer who eat all my plants and shubbery. In addition, this year I have been doing battle with a little gopher, who has worked diligently behind me each evening, digging up everything I plant, neatly laying it on its side next to the empty hole! I don't use traps in the garden (I figure the animals and I are sharing this patch of earth). I also don't use chemicals, since we eat herbs, edible flowers and vegetables that grow there. Luckily I found a biodegradeable, granular spread called MoleMax, which is activated by water and repels burrowing animals. For the deer, I am using a spray called Liquid Fence (all natural ingredients like hot peppers and rotten eggs which make everything taste terrible), combined with a technique suggested by an Amish gardener near Highland Lake, Pennsylvania (where I grew up, and still vacation with my siblings and their kids). She puts chicken wire on the ground around plants that she doesn't want deer to eat, and told me that they hate to step on the wire. I have tried it around my azaleas and some flowering perennials. So far, so good.

Today, for the first time in weeks, I didn't spend the cool morning hours hauling gravel, digging, and planting. Instead, I took a cup of coffee, my camera and tripod, and photographed the results of my work.



Usually, the sage in my kitchen garden is an annual - I have to replant every spring. This year, the weather was so mild that my sage wintered over, and I have a HUGE patch which is flowering (I've never had sage flower before - very exciting!).

This is a Dock-Spider, which I found warming itself on one of my paving stones. It is a beauty - nearly 3-inches in diameter.







My Clematis didn't flower last year (often the case with a new planting), but it is in full bloom this Spring.









I love the perfect symbiosis between ants and peonies. The ants drink the nectar, and their constant movement is thought to help open the dense, double flower buds. This bloom was literally trembling on the verge of opening when I photographed it this morning. As I post this afternoon, the flower is open and the ant is gone - his work is done!


Lots of wrought iron - both new and antique - in the shady "Angel Garden."
































The Garden Shed











And finally, the porch. We are ready for "a long summer's rest" here in Cornwall-on-Hudson!

OPENING OF THE FIFTH WORLD SUMMIT ON MEDIA FOR CHILDREN

Sunday in Johannesburg, and the opening session is underway. The theme of this year’s Summit is “Media as a Tool for Global Peace and Democracy.” As always, the conference is built around the idea that children are entitled to high quality media that is made specifically for them, that provides room for their opinions, and that promotes and protects children’s rights.

It was hard not to feel a little cynical, given the lofty goals, to find that our hosts were all aflutter at the magnitude of the keynote speaker – Roy Disney. How ironic that this conference would revere the Disney company, which has hardly been a champion of diversity and authentic, local experience. Rather, Disney’s “It’s a Small World” approach to global culture epitomizes the touristic, isn’t that quaint?! American view of developing countries as markets to be acquired and exploited. It is hard to imagine why that is relevant here, and it felt very sad that it was seen as a huge coup to have him. (Early on in his presentation, he actually said I believe it can be legitimately said that Mickey Mouse has been a force for Global Peace and Democracy. Adolf Hitler denounced Mickey Mouse as an enemy of the state.).

Yet, the irony of his position was not lost on Roy Disney, and he ultimately rose to the challenge. His framed his address as an appeal for improving the quality of media designated for children. I would add an adjective to your theme – “quality.” That is, quality media as a tool for global peace and democracy. Without that qualifier, media can be a repressive force or even a tool for propoganda. When held to high standards, media can be a powerful force for good.

And in closing, Disney said:
There’s tremendous opportunity for progress today. For the first time ever, we have instant, worldwide communication….Many adults are simply incapable of conquering their fears and prejudices, but the children can. If they are exposed to responsible, quality media, this can at last become the Century of Peace. This is just not another Disney fairy tale. It is up to us, one by one, to make this a reality.

Grudgingly, I must say that he was more relevant than I ever could have imagined under the circumstances.

There are 300 teenagers between the ages of 13 and 16 present here. They were addressed directly and powerfully by Dr. Mbulelo Mzamane, the South African author of "The Children of Soweto" and "The Children of the Diaspora and Other Stories of Exile" (and former Vice Chancellor of the University of Fort Hare). Dr. Mzamane appointed himself the “Children’s Ombudsman” for the duration of the Summit.

You hear that children? From now on, I am your spirit medium. If anything is not going right, come to me. It’s a revolution! Make use of this opportunity.


My children, you are as helpless as you allow yourself to be. You have to remember, it is all inside you. There is a legacy in this country of child activism. In fact, in rewriting our history, as we are doing now, it is quite clear that it was at the point that children and women got involved in our revolution that decisive and qualitative changes came about. There is no such thing as “I am too young.”

The central issue for you is going to be how do you make your participation in this conference meaningful? How do you make sure that grownups have not just brought you here simply to make themselves feel good?

Are you going to let someone like Roy Disney be a ventriloquist for you? How do you participate as children in the creative process? Why don’t they ask you what you want?

We know what the problems are, children. What we want are solutions.

And finally, do not try and cleave to one another because you are from the same village, or from the same country. Mix as much as possible with other children from other countries. It is only through interaction that you grow.

Inspiring words from Dr. Mzamane.

PATTI SMITH :: Rock'n'Roll Hall of Fame Inductee

I never thought that punk poet/rebel Patti Smith would make it through the lingering misogyny of the music establishment to be honored by the Hall. Last night, at age 60, she accepted with grace and humility, performing with power and passion.

Smith's raw, angry style, seemingly in-your-face lyrics with their surprising subtlety of meaning, and refusal to doll herself up in the "girl group" tradition of were so inspiring to me when I was a young woman coming of age at the height of the Feminist Movement. I even went through one summer - thankfully only one - with unshaven armpits, inspired by her Easter album cover. I'm frankly glad that she lived to see the day that she was inducted into the Hall. I remember rushing from my secretarial job at CBS Records to the the Wollman Rink in NY in the summer of 1977, arriving breathless, just in time to see her carried out, unconscious, before the show ever began. She lived life her way, all the way, in those days.

And then she retired to be a mom, raising two children with MC5 guitarist Fred "Sonic" Smith (their son played rhythm guitar with his mom onstage last night).

Fifteen years ago, in the weeks while we were waiting for our own daughter to be born, Chris and I made a complilation of the best, most accessible rock songs we could think of, titled "Songs to Sing with Julia." It was to be our baby's introduction to rock 'n' roll, and it was our way of declaring that we weren't going inflict insipid "kiddie music" on our child. Rather, we would respect her intelligence and introduce to her to quality music right from the outset. The playlist began with John Lennon's "Julia" (of course) and ended with Patti Smith's "People Have the Power."

It is not her best composition, but I have always loved "People Have the Power" as an anthem for how I aspire to live my own life. And, I was always intrigued that from this dark, often angry writer came lyrics which were inspired by The Beatitudes (....Blessed are the poor, for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven....blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.....etc ). Thinking about it again today, I shouldn't have been surprised at the reference. The Beatitudes, which were the opening lines from Christ's powerful "Sermon on the Mount," were designed to shock. He got his audience's attention by going completely against the prevailing belief system, describing the "citizens of heaven" as the poor, the weak, and the helpless. That instinct, to push the envelope in pursuit of social commentary, is Patti Smith's M.O. Who else could have come up with the title "Rock and Roll Nigger" as a way of expressing the isolation of the visionary?

Although it is nineteen years old, "People Have the Power" holds up both as a song and as a call to action. Its timeless relevance speaks to why this fierce yet fragile artist was inducted into the Hall of Fame last night.

PEOPLE HAVE THE POWER
I was dreaming in my dreaming
of an aspect bright and fair
and my sleeping it was broken
but my dream it lingered near
in the form of shining valleys
where the pure air recognized
and my senses newly opened
I awakened to the cry
that the people / have the power
to redeem / the work of fools
upon the meek / the graces show
it's decreed / the people rule.

The people have the power
The people have the power
The people have the power
The people have the power

Vengeful aspects became suspect
and bending low as if to hear
and the armies ceased advancing
because the people had their ear
and the shepherds and the soldiers
lay beneath the stars
exchanging visions
and laying arms
to waste / in the dust
in the form of / shining valleys
where the pure air / recognized
and my senses / newly opened
I awakened to the cry

REFRAIN

Where there were deserts
I saw fountains
like cream the waters rise
and we strolled there together
with none to laugh or criticize
and the leopard
and the lamb
lay together truly bound
I was hoping in my hoping
to recall what I had found
I was dreaming in my dreaming
god knows / a purer view
as I surrender to my sleeping
I commit my dream to you

REFRAIN

The power to dream / to rule
to wrestle the world from fools
it's decreed the people rule
it's decreed the people rule
LISTEN
I believe everything we dream
can come to pass thru our union
we can turn the world around
we can turn the earth's revolution
we have the power
People have the power......

Lyrics © 1988 Druse Music/Stratium Music, Inc.

JOURNEY'S END :: POWERFUL WWI DRAMA PACKS A PUNCH

Journey's End, the story of six British soldiers posted to the front line in WWI, opens tonight on Broadway. This revival was a hit in London's West End, and I have no doubt that it will perform similarly in New York.

The entire play takes place in a candlelit bunker as the young officers talk about rugby, cricket, and other trivial matters, staving off fear and dread as they await a major assault by the Germans, who are in their own trenches only 70 yards away. The cast is outstanding, with a particularly fine performance by Tony Award-winning actor Boyd Gaines in the role of Lieutenant Osborne. The ensemble also features the handsome young actor Hugh Dancy (tipped as the “next Orlando Bloom”) as the alcoholic, deeply conflicted, ultimately tragic Captain Stanhope. I entered the theater expecting to see a sad story about the war's terrible toll in human lives, and it was certainly that. There was no perfunctory, empty Broadway standing ovation at the conclusion of this performance. The audience remained seated, first offering hesitant, then resolute, weeping applause as the actor/soldiers stood at attention in front of a wall of names of the British war dead.

Journey's End was first produced in London in 1928, just ten years after the end of the war. The current director's notes describe the difficulty that the unknown writer, R.C. Sherriff (who went on to write classics like Goodbye, Mr. Chips), had in getting the play produced. Similar to our own feelings about 9/11, the British public felt that the subject was still too raw and painful to address in the theater. This was understandable, given that Britain had endured 700,000 deaths with another three million injured. The play was first presented simply as a staged reading in London, featuring an unknown young actor named Laurence Olivier in the leading role. Current director David Grindley writes that "despite a tremendous reaction by press and public alike," it was an uphill battle to get a commercial producer to mount a full production. Journey’s End finally opened on January 21, 1929 to poor advance ticket sales, gradually building an audience by word of mouth. By the end of the year, there were fourteen productions in English, including one on Broadway, and seventeen more in translation around Europe. The play, rather than exacerbating the pain of the post-WWI era, proved to be a cathartic experience.

Director Grindley, who also directed the 2004 London revival, has done a wonderful job with Journey’s End, which makes a powerful statement about loyalty, duty, and personal sacrifice in the face of overwhelming odds.

Journey’s End is playing at the Belasco Theater, 111 West 44th Street, New York, NY. Running time 2 hours and 35 minutes, including one 15-minute intermission. May be inappropriate for children 12 and under.

SWEET SIXTEEN IN RURAL AMERICA

Last night, as I drove to rural Greenwood Lake, New York, I worried that Jules and her friends would be disappointed at their first Sweet Sixteen party. They were all wearing semi-formal dresses, impossibly high heels, and had awaited the night with great anticipation. As I dropped them off at the local American Legion Hall, I could see through the windows that the decor consisted of blue and white crepe paper, helium balloons, and an old-fashioned disco ball. Please, I implored silently, don't let them walk in and be dismayed.

My daughter and her friends are turning 16 this year, and of course, they are avid viewers of MTV's reality show "My Super Sweet Sixteen." The show is a celebration of crass materialism and stunningly spoiled teenagers (one girl's father hired a helicopter for her grand entrance to her party). Event costs often run into six figures, rap stars like Diddy and Kanye West are booked as surprise guest performers, and in more than one episode, girls have been given hundred thousand dollar luxury sports cars that they are still too young to drive! This is hardly what Jules and her friends are going to experience tonight.

Four hours later, when I returned to pick them up, I could see that everyone was still dancing madly, their movements frozen in time by flashing strobe lights. I slipped inside to watch, and stood near a table in the back. There was a huge card which all the kids had signed, flanked by two framed, 8 x 10 photographs of the birthday girl. One was her school portrait - a fresh-faced, hopeful teenager. The other was a sports photograph with her in full catcher's gear, crouching fiercely behind home plate. Now THAT, I thought to myself is a celebration message!

Gut check on the way home in the car. Not a hint of disappointment; a good time was had by all. There is still hope left for this culture!

A CHRISTMAS STORY

The choir arrived early so that we could rehearse prior to the start of the Christmas pageant. While we were singing, I noticed a young mother with a little blonde girl at the altar rail. I had never seen them before, and guessed that they must be here visting grandparents for the holidays. The daughter looked to be about about four-years-old, and was wearing a red velvet Christmas dress. The mother was kneeling and they were talking, the little girl's eyes riveted to her mother's face. As we sang, I kept looking over to them, captivated by how intent and focused they were together.

An hour later, the pageant was in full swing, with various parishioners playing the parts of angels, Herod, Mary and Joseph. Suddenly, the little girl I had noticed earlier came walking up the aisle. Her mother never moved to scold or stop her, she just let her come.

The little one pushed through the angels, proceeded past the choir, and laboriously climbed the marble steps up onto the altar, where Fr. Tom was sitting in an ornate, carved chair. She marched straight up to him, and held her arms out to be picked up. He lifted her into his lap as if they had known each other all their lives. The grandfatherly priest spent the rest of the service with her nestled in his arms. Each time the ritual called for prayer, he took her hand and they climbed the steps to the altar to get the book. Then together, holding hands, they turned and faced the congregation to read.

Her little face was full of light – it was clear that she simply needed to be there. It was an emotional, unexpected manisfestation of the true spirit of Christmas. In religious terms, I would say that she was filled with the Holy Spirit, and it felt to me as though we were visited through her.

That (and the unmistakable resemblance to Cindy Lou Who) moved me to tears.

And a child shall lead them (Isaiah 11:6).

STORM KING MOUNTAIN :: MYSTERY ARTIST

A silent sculptor

works the forest, stones

balanced with breaths of whimsy.