Uncle Eric the linguist

So here I am writing again in this blog spot (or blogspot even) twice in one month. Twice in a few days, even!
What's the world coming to?

Well, it's coming down to the fact that I don't have enough energy to write something longer, like the half-year movie ten best list I'll do later this week. But I DO have enough energy to make a few additions to something already out there.

My friend Cathy sent me an impossibly adorable video of her baby laughing. I also spent some time recently with my "niece" Marta, who is about 17 months old. When she's not busy walking back and forth, handing me everything she owns (and sometimes things her parents own), she's quite the chatterbox.

These two young-uns brought to mind a Life in Hell comic by Simpsons creator Matt Groening. It's called "How to Understand Your Baby's Gibberish."

Yeah, I know, it's kinda small. But here's an enlarged version. (As far as I know, Groening never actually made a part two.) 

So I thought it might be fun for me to make a handful of additions/embellishments to this list. 

Ha-ha. 1. Funny. 2. Noisy panting. 3. Mommy and/or daddy and/or whoever is making weird faces at me sure are goobers. 

'Kay  - Abbreviation, short for "OK." 1. Yes. 2. Sure! 3. Affirmative.  4. Sir, yes sir! 5. I don't know what you're talking about, but whatever you say, mom/dad. Note - "O" is not short for "OK." 

Hi-yum. 1. Greetings! 2. Salutations! 3. Hey there! 4. How's it hanging? 5. I am garbling the Jewish phrase that means "To life!" 

No. - 1. Negative. 2. Nothin' doin. 3. Yuck! Who can eat this glop? 4. You have GOT to be kidding me! 5. I say this just to mess with your head when you ask me if I love you.

Num, num, num, NUM!  1. I'm hungry. 2. Feed me, damn you! 3. I want whatever you're eating, even if it is grossly inappropriate for me. e.g. Jalapeño poppers.

Wah! 1. Ow! 2. YEOWTCH! 3. Feed me, I said! 4. I can no longer tolerate this wet/soiled disposable absorbent device! 4. Get away! 5. I hate mommy and/or daddy! 6. $#$^@*&!!!! 7. Don't you know the world is a foul sty?

Yay. 1. I like this. 2. I wholeheartedly approve. 3. Nice! 4. Hooray! 5. A movie? Cool! (No, seriously, Marta does this whenever a movie comes on. My kinda kid!) 

Feel free to make your own additions in the comments! 

A tribute to an editor I knew only a little, but much admired

When Lisa Warren, the editor of the newspapers for which I write, passed away Friday, I felt surprised.

Not at her passing - she had been battling cancer for years, and recently the news had not been good. She fought valiantly, but she was admitted to hospice some weeks ago, and the writing on the wall was all too clear.

What did surprise me was how affected I felt by it. And that struck me, because I cannot claim to have known Lisa well. She and I had very little interaction. For many years, I worked for the Middletown Journal, while she was the editor of the Hamilton JournalNews. Around the time she became Middletown's editor as well,  in 2007, cancer had struck, and she ended up spending relatively little time where I worked.

So why was I so moved when she died? Part of it, I'm sure, was because I felt sad for my colleagues who did know her well. They had not just lost a boss, or even a mentor - they had lost a friend. And the fact that her death was imminent did not make their  loss any easier. I would imagine it made it even more trying.

And yet the few interactions I had with her were memorable. I can remember only two meetings I had with her. But they stand out for very different reasons.

A couple of years ago, when I was covering one of the small towns around Middletown, I was trying to report on a crime. The police were not being very forthcoming about it, and I kept after them, with call after call, trying to get SOME useful information from them, to little avail.

So when Lisa called me into her office, I was nervous. I always am at these sorts of meetings, but since I didn't know Lisa well, I wasn't sure what was in store.

She told me she had heard from the police and the city manager that I was being "unpleasantly aggressive."

She must have seen the expression on my face, because she gave me kind of a knowing look. Anyone who knows me at at all knows that the idea of me being "unpleasantly aggressive" is laughable. Sure, I can be persistent. But unpleasant? Unpleasantly AGGRESSIVE? Ridiculous.

She said she told them,  "That doesn't sound like the Eric I know." And I liked the way she phrased that. She and I barely knew each other, but she still had a good understanding of me. She said she would never have any problem with me being aggressive in my reporting, but since the perception was out there, I should meet with the officials and smooth over the ruffled feathers.

She was right, of course. I had the meeting and everything turned out fine. And how she dealt with the situation always stayed with me - she was eminently reasonable and fair.

The only other meeting I had with her was of much smaller consequence, but it still had a marked impact on me. She asked me to cover the Talawanda school district, in and around Oxford. I thought that was very strange, because I worked in Hamilton, and that was way out of my way. Still, I did it, and that decision was what made me get a GPS. I didn't want to follow Mapquest directions in the dark on those winding country roads and end up in a ditch somewhere.

And my use of a GPS has led to a lot of laughs for me. I call my GPS Glinda - the Navigator of the South, the East, the West AND the North. Sometimes I rely on her so heavily that one of my friends cracked "You use her to get HOME, don't you?"

That may seem inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, but it DID all stem from that meeting with Lisa!

But she did impact me in larger ways, partly because of what I didn't get to experience with her. When I heard her say that my profile of a local resident impacted by the economy was a model of what to follow, that was golden to me, because I knew how high her standards were. I wish I had more moments like that.

I also felt a sense of loss because I knew how hard she fought her illness. She went through chemo after chemo, some of which were experimental or radical. She hung tough longer than many people would have, I'm sure.

Not too long before the end, she gave a pretty dramatic demonstration of her battle that really put things in perspecitve. She said through it all, she found three kinds of trouble, and lowering her hand, she put it like this:

HOLOCAUST



                                                         Cancer

your problem.

If we all faced our battles like Lisa faced hers, we would have a cure for cancer by now. That's why I don't like to read that Lisa "lost her battle with cancer." It's a pretty common phrase in obituary stories, and I suppose it is true, in a sense. But death meets us all in the end, no matter who we are. In NO way was Kira Lisa Warren a loser. And I knew her just well enough to be absolutely certain of that. 

Mother's Day Music in my catalog

This being Mother's Day and all, I thought it would be fun to rummage through my music catalog and see what songs pertained to moms.

Songs with the word "Mom" in the title

Wow. Out of the 6,933 tracks (no, really, I counted) in my library, I find a grand total of ZERO with the word "mom" in the title. The closest thing I've got is "Momma Miss America," a scrappy little instrumental from Paul McCartney's debut album that makes me wish I could play drums, guitar and piano.

Songs with the word "Mommy" in the title

"I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" - And underneath the mistletoe last night, no less. This was originally recorded by the Ronettes for Phil Spector's Christmas record, but I also have a version of the Beach Boys' kids singing it, with Brian Wilson banging away on piano. 

Songs with the word "Mama" in the title

Now we're gettin' somewhere. This more extensive list includes: 

"Blues in the Night (My Mama Done Told Me)" - Wonderfully swingy, torchy song. My version is one of Judy Garland's early Decca recordings, made during her MGM years. 

"Don't Tell Mama" - An, um, eye opening number from the Broadway show "Cabaret." If any of you saw the revival from the 90s, you KNOW what I mean! 

"Goose-Step Mama" A track by the Beatles parody Band the Rutles. Not meant to ape any specific song, I 

believe, but a good representation of their early clubbing days. Probably the zaniest "mom" title in my catalog. 

"I Don't Want to Be a Soldier Mama" - Cacophonous track from John Lennon's Imagine album. Cool sound to the song, but I always thought it was laborious and clunky compared to the rest of the album.

"Mama Says" - Strange little a capella track from the Beach Boys' Wild Honey LP that had been part of the version of "Vega-Tables" from the aborted Smile album. Never be lazy .... POOF!

"Mama Yo Quiero" - Another goofball track, from the Babes on Broadway soundtrack, with Mickey Rooney hamming it up as usual. And in the movie he does it dressed up like Carmen Miranda!

"Mama's Little Girl" - One of Paul McCartney's most charming obscure tunes, this went unreleased for years until he threw it on the B-side of "Put It There." A lovely, lilting mother/daughter song.

"Mama I'm a Big Girl Now" - This song from "Hairsrpay" wasn't used in the movie itself, but played over the end credits sung by all three girls who had played Tracy: Ricki Lake, Marisa Jaret Winokur and Nikki Bonsky. (Movie geek note: Marisa is the girl who works the drive through window in American Beauty and tells  Annette Bening, "You are so busted.") 

"Only Mama Knows" - One of my favorite tracks from Paul McCartney's last studio album released under his own name, Memory Almost Full. ROCKS! 

That's All Right (Mama) - I do not have the recording that launched Elvis' career in my collection, but I do have two versions sung by Paul McCartney - a scratchy Beatles BBC recording and a solo version from his 1987 oldies sessions. 

"When You're Good to Mama" - Show-stopper from the Chicago OCR/OST.  Queen Latifah knocked it out of the prison complex. 

Songs with the word "mother" in the title

"Getting Into Shape/Listen You Screwheads/Gun Play/Dear Father and Mother/The Card." - From the Taxi Driver soundtrack. I hereby retract my earlier statement about "Goose-Step Mama." 

"Have You Seen Your Mother Baby, Standing in the Shadow" - The Stones. Cool just for its distorted guitar opening. 

"Mother"  - John Lennon's tormented opus. People go on about how he shredded his voice on "Twist and Shout" - that's NOTHING compared to the wringer he puts his larynx through here. 

"Mother" - by The Police. NOT a cover of Lennon's song, but, to the best of my knowledge, Andy Summers' lone solo writing credit with the group. A rather noisy song From Synchronicity. 

"Mother Nature's Son" - "Sit beside a mountain stream, see her waters rise. Listen to the pretty sound of music as she flies. Do do do do do do do, do-do, do-do, do ...."

"Mother's Little Helper" - Ah, the Stones' gentle ode to pharmaceuticals. 

"The Mothership" - Do-do-do-do-dooooooo. WAH-WAAAAAAAH (Window shatters) 

And sort of ending as I began, "Your Mother Should Know." 

Glee = Eric, Eric = Glee

It isn't often that I latch on to TV shows. As most people who know me will attest, I am such a movie creature that the small screen to me seems to be just that - small.

Every once in a while I make an attempt to get into a show, but for one reason or the next, it rarely takes. Sometimes it's because I end up getting bored, as happened with American Idol. But more often it's because these days, the shows are so complicated that even if you blink during an episode, you're totally  Lost. (Capitalization intentional.) Other times the show is so far into its run that I don't feel inclined to spend an inordinate amount of time playing catch-up. I'd rather catch up on my TCM backlog on my DVR.

Last week, however, a show finally caught me - a little phenomenon called Glee.

I had watched one episode before - the one with my second favorite Broadway actress, Kristin Chenoweth, but as ususal, various distractions kept me from committing. When I heard the show was going to go back on the air with new episodes, I figured, "It's still a young show - I'll give it a shot. Seems right up my alley."

Wow. Is it ever.

It's a wonder I didn't get into Glee from the start. It's a musical, for which I am a considerable fool. Not for nothing are four of the movies on my Ten Best of All Time list musicals. 

Moreover, I have a rather famous fondness for girls who can sing, particularly long-haired brunettes, making Lea Michele (actual age 23) my latest celebrity crush. 

And besides being a good-looking girl with a hell of a voice, she's a hell of an actress. Her character, Rachel, the "star" of the group, casts the image of someone who seems to an outsider to have at all together, but on the inside is ragingly insecure. That's a quality I find very touching. 

And speaking of touching, the show hit me hard in personal ways I did not anticipate. Of course, there's the disabled character (Artie), but Glee's overall focus on all kinds of outcasts is what hit home for me. I've always seen myself as one, and not just because of my physical limitations. Even at my high school, where people were pretty friendly to me, I always felt like a bit of an outsider. No one ever doused me with a Slushie, but unlike 80 percent of the people there, I didn't grow up with the gang, having come into the district rather late. In many ways, I never felt part of the "in" crowd. Sometimes that actually felt good - sometimes it was lonely. Glee puts that across.

And what does Glee pull out of its hat when I make a commitment to watch it? With Lea singing? A Beatles cover!

Hello, hello indeed!  Or, as the part they left out goes:

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Cha cha cha!

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Wooo-ooo!

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Heyyy-la!

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Cha cha cha!

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Woo-oo-ooo!

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Cha Cha!

Hey-la, hey hello-ah

Cha Cha!

Catharsis

An absolutely crushing blow has devastated me tonight. I won't get into the details here, where just anyone could stumble across it. Suffice it to say I got my hopes up about something yet again, only to have them come crashing to the ground.

My most recent post here, about the random music I listen to, mentioned a song that feels all too relevant right now: I Just Wasn't Made for These Times, by the Beach Boys. I said: If any song is a personal anthem for me, this is surely it.

The song, by Brian Wilson and Tony Asher, goes like this - the passage in bold seems especially relevant.

I keep looking for a place to fit
Where I can speak my mind
I've been trying hard to find the people
That I won't leave behind

They say I got brains
But they ain't doing me no good
I wish they could

Each time things start to happen again
I think I got something good goin' for myself
But what goes wrong

Sometimes I feel very sad
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)

I guess I just wasn't made for these times

Every time I get the inspiration
To go change things around
No one wants to help me look for places
Where new things might be found

Where can I turn when my fair weather friends cop out
What's it all about

Each time things start to happen again
I think I got something good goin' for myself
But what goes wrong

Sometimes I feel very sad
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)
Sometimes I feel very sad
(Can't find nothin' I can put my heart and soul into)

I guess I just wasn't made for these times



As another favorite songwriter of mine once said, "I just had to let it go."
  

WSIR

Hello faithful few readers. Sorry I haven't posted anything in this space in quite some time, but outside of my movie-going, not a lot has happened in my life - at least not that I'm prepared to write about yet.

But Friday evening, while listening to Internet radio, I hit upon  (or heard upon) a fun topic - my strange musical taste.

I am quite famous for my Beatlemania, of course, but believe it or not, it's not the only music I listen to - although it is fair to say my taste is pretty retro, as this post will show.

I decided to do this post two ways. First I would turn on my custom-tailored Internet radio channel and list the first 10 songs I heard. These were not chosen by me, but were selected randomly by the computer. They were:

1. Are You Happy Now, Michelle Branch - One of my favorite singer-songwriters. I tend to gravitate toward young female chanteuses. I wish she'd put out the new material she's working on.

2. You Tell Me Why, The Beau Brummels -  I suppose the radio picked this for me because of it's Beatle-y sound. Didn't make much impression on me either way.

3. Chimes of Freedom, The Byrds - Again, the Beatle connection rears its mop-topped head. Lots of that jangly guitar.

4. Wouldn't It Be Nice, The Beach Boys  - Uuuum, YEAH!

5. Sleepyhouse, Blind Melon - Pleasant listen. I was never into Blind Melon, but I recall them because a couple of the guys in that band produced Anna Nalick.  Speaking of whom:

6. Citadel, Anna Nalick - What a coincidence! This was a live acoustic version of one of my favorite songs from her first and so far only album. I really would love to see her drop back on the face of the earth. Met her once at one of her shows. Great singer, fun girl.

7. Tired of Waiting for You, The Kinks - A groovy little tune from a truly underappreciated band.

8. Hey Bulldog, The Beatles - Yup, this computer knows me.

9. Save the Last Dance for Me, Ike and Tina Turner - From the Phil Spector box set. Funny, the backing to this sounds eerily like "Heroes and Villains" by the Beach Boys. Speaking of whom:

10. I Just Wasn't Made for These Times, Brian Wilson - If any song is a personal anthem for me, this is surely it. Interestingly, the computer picked the live version from Brian's Pet Sounds tour, which I had the honor of seeing twice. I was most definitely made for THOSE times.

For the second part of this experiment, I decided to pull out my Gigabeat (my MP3 player) and put it on random and see if I could get some truly weird segues.

1. Alone, Wilson Phillips - Ah, the one WP song solely written by Wendy, my favorite member of the group. She struck me as the smart, low-key one.

2. She's a Woman, Paul McCartney - Acoustic version from his Unplugged album. Has a cool swing.

3. A Hard Day's Night, The Beatles - If you threw me against the wall, held a gun to my head and asked me to name ONE favorite Beatles song (and believe me, that's the only way you could get me to name ONE) - it would be this one. This was a slightly remixed stereo version from a Making of Hard Day's Night video. Has a longer fade than any other version. Yes, I'm a complete geek.

4. Little Bird, The Beach Boys - Dennis Wilson's writing debut, from the 1968 album Friends. Pretty impressive for a start. One of the few songs I can think of that sports both a cello and banjo.

5. Everything I Need, The Wilsons - My, we're on a Wilsons kick. Not that I mind. This is a song written by Brian Wilson and Tony Asher (Pet Sounds) from a solo album by Carnie and Wendy. Brian sings too.

6. On and On and On, The Internationals - Now HERE'S a weird segue. Rockin' track from my friend Todd Pack's former band. Has some of his tastiest guitar playing.

7. (Just Like) Starting Over, John Lennon  - And we segue into a track by Todd's favorite Beatle, which, despite its jaunty sound,  will always have a wistful air of melancholy about it because this was the song that was out when he died.

8. When Your Mind's Made Up, Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova  - My second favorite song from the Once soundtrack, after the Oscar-winning "Falling Slowly," of course.

9. Got My Mind Set on You, George Harrison - George's last big solo hit - which is actually one of my least favorite songs from his Cloud 9 album. I prefer the ones he wrote. This was an oldie by one Rudy Clark.

10. Ezekiel 25:17 - The "great vengeance and furious anger speech" from Pulp Fiction, from the opening scenes of the film. What a track to end on. I think I'd best be going now.

Cue "Surf Rider" by The Lively Ones ...

The many hairs of Eric Robinette

Every time I come back from the stylist, the chorus remains the same:

"Hey, I see ya got your ears lowered!"

"Where did your hair go?"

"Who are you?"

"Hey, wow, ya got your hair cut!"

And to that last one, I often reply: "I got all of them cut, actually."

(Insert either raucous laughter or the sad trombone, whichever you prefer.)

 But lest anyone think I'm despairing, I promise I'm not. I'm quite used to this. My hair has been a point of conversation all my life.  And I do mean ALL my life.

Take, for instance, this childhood photo of me from about 1973 or so. Yes, I am publicly admitting that is me.

 

Why it was thought this was a good look for me, I still don't know. It sure wasn't my idea. I personally prefer the look I sported a bit later, when I was about 5. I actually remember posing for this shot, too. 

Kinda looks like a Beatle cut, doesn't it? Which is funny, considering my real Beatlemania didn't hit for another five years.

These days I sport two basic looks - the semi-buzz, seen here  with my Clockwork Orange glower. Beleve it or not, I DO have a scalp.

And then there's helmet hair, as seen on my birthday a couple of years ago.

People always notice when I get a hair cut (or my hairs cut) because I don't go at regular intervals, like, say, once a month. And funnily enough, I do not follow the example of John Lennon, whose hairstyle was once called into question in court. John was testifying in a case revolving around the illegal issue of his Rock N' Roll oldies album. The bootleg had a picture of John with long hair. He showed up in court with short hair. When the other side's lawyer was cross-examining John on the stand, the lawer asserted that John must have cut his hair specifically for the trial.

John shot back,  "Rubbish. I cut it every 18 months."

Believe me, if I waited 18 months, my hair would probably be three stories high. No, I go by an entirely different gauge. I head to the stylist when it takes more than three minutes to fix it every morning. An excess of 180 seconds on my head is just ridiculous.

And when I go to the stylist, they may cut my hair, but they sure don't cut me a break. Almost every one of them  jokes about how much hair I've got. One of the most common remarks is, "You'll never have to worry about going bald."

No, I suppose I won't at that. And indeed, I only recently got a rather frightening look at the future. This is me just this past New Year's Eve, with a couple of very good friends of mine. I swear on my John Lennon collection no Photoshop or other alterations have been applied.

 

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm sixty-four? Hoo!