My brother, Georgie, passed away - what was it - two years ago? It, for me, was like a movie. The whole time surrounding his death and his dying did not dig deep into me. I felt like an observer witnessing his finale. Also, strangely, watching myself - my maneuverings. The memorial was emotional and lovely. I, for a brief moment or two climbed back into my skin so as to feel something.
People, Georgie's Indiana friends, bee-lined it to me because they said I was unmistakably George's brother. He wasn't Georgie in Indiana. He was George. It was the first time I noticed my resemblance to my brother. I believe that day - the day of Georgie's memorial - was the day I began to look like him. Now, people come up to me and ask me if I am related to George Baksa - an old high school friend, a former neighbor - at the library, the mall, on the street. It is as if Georgie won't let me be until I allow myself to feel something - to dig deep and understand - I don't know - something.
I'm still trying to figure it out.
I do know that I miss him. I miss the conversations we might have had once we started to connect as we aged. That's what happens - right? Siblings drop the nonsense and return to the blood. When I ponder this, I conclude with this inevitability. This "might have been" haunts me and brings me to grief.
I have been so caught up in my own whys and becauses, I forgot to consider Georgie's motives - not actually needing to know them as much as just allowing for their existence. And that is enough to bring me solace of a kind.
Today is Georgie's birthday. Birthday. Birth Day. Day of Birth. Birth. By today's standards he left us as a relatively young man. What is his legacy?
I remember his bravado. I remember his passion for sports and music. Georgie had this huge desire to be noticed, acknowledged, validated and applauded. Me too. How alike we were. He desired a public life. Me too. We both took steps - different steps - but paths that lead us to a social life. This sudden observation exhilarates me. Perhaps it is what ties us now. Where as in life - his life - somehow drew us apart. I don't know - just thinking out loud as they say.
Georgie leaves me with the memory of a boy who was my first playmate - my first roommate, my first competitor, my first responsibility, my first admirer. We drifted in and out of each others lives. But always hovering close by was an anticipation that we would reconnect from time to time. Our last connection was to say goodbye. Georgie initiated this farewell with grace and much love. This is his legacy to me.
Ultimately, this brought him back to me and brought him to amazing grace.
- Paula's Donuts are AWESOME which translates into a new kind of delicious! OMG! OMG! OMG!!
- "Mr. Selfridge" is my favorite TV show which makes me not miss "Downton Abby quite so much.
- "Hitchcock" with Anthony Hopkins and Helen Mirren is a terrific entertainment. This film fell under most movie goers radar, unfortunately. Go to your Red Box asap and rent it - it is also available in Blu-ray. Its all about the making of "Psycho" Alfred Hitchcock's biggest box office hit. This flick is so much fun and Hopkins and Mirren are divine - pure entertainment.
- Speaking of entertainment, the Correspondent's dinner on C Span, CNN, Fox and probably some other feeds this evening was just that - entertaining. Barack and Conan were a scream. It was especially interesting to see audience reactions to the barbs and shots of the targets of the barbs all taking it in the right spirit. There seemed to be only one aisle tonight AND that's a good thing. I almost got all gooey misty over Chris Christie. I said almost!
- Daryl Hall is a great singer. He is blessed with a range and warm lyric baritone that is as appealing as his looks. I highly recommend his show on Palladia, "Daryl's House" where he has on each episode a musician/singer/composer as a guest. Daryl sings their songs. The guest sings his songs. They duet. They have dinner. They sing and play some more. Sometimes the program is a half hour. Other times an hour. It all takes place in his upstate New York home - a beautiful, rustic setting. It is shown frequently and repeated just as often. My favorite shows so far have been with musical guests Rob Thomas, Booker T and Smokey Robinson. Daryl 's take on Smokey's OOH Baby Baby is stunning!
- Motorcycles are beautiful. My nephew dropped by this morning on a sunny ride with his bike. It is a thing of wonder - shiny black and silver - powerful in stance as if it were a god. His Harley seems to posses a mysterious personality harboring a secret. If I were younger and braver, you'd find me atop a big shiny PURPLE mother revving it for all its worth and mine as well.
- Switching gears - finally, you know what? Being angry, pissed, upset even miffed at someone you love for more than a few days is just so exhausting and a waste of serious time - time you can never regain. So, be pissed miffed and bothered then give it up. If the object of your temporary disaffection also loves you, they'll follow your example and give it up, too. Seriously, dear blog reader, smoldering for too long builds a wall that can become too high to climb over. Do you really need one less bell to answer - one less egg to fry?
Today close friends and family gathered to say their final farewell to sister Gloria. It is strange but all the time spent with everybody today, not once did I think - really think about Gloria. Oh, I thought about her but not deeply, specifically. There was too much distraction. We were all taking care of each other thereby avoiding Gloria even though we were gathered in her name. And now I understand how necessary that was. We will inevitably have our alone time like now, for me, where we must confront Gloria - deal with her - meditate on her life and what it meant to us - what it meant to the universe. Why was Gloria even here?
I don't know why any of us are here. Yet, we are. Maybe the real tragedy of life is not knowing why. And then, perhaps it isn't a tragedy unless we torture ourselves with the whys and wherefores. Is it not important just to take this life we are given and run with it? Do what we can to supply meaning. It isn't why we are here - it is that we are here.
So, dear Gloria, this is what I think of when I contemplate you. This is not a bio or even a summing up. It is random life bites that stick out in my memory of your life - the parts of your life I witnessed.
- You would take me everywhere with you when I was cute chubby little Anthony. It was as if I was assigned to you. Except I wasn't. You just decided I needed to be under your wing. This I recall was our first few years in Bay View. You always said later in life how much you loved that house - our time on Enterprise Avenue - the Staserowski's, the Beckwith's, Kalendars, Cabers, Mr. Lynch - later the MacDougal's. I especially remember Halloweens and strawberry picking in Bay View and hide and go seek or as we called it hind go seek. Crystal Beach, The Skyway Drive-In, the Steam Shovel. I choke up on the brink of tears recalling those days where summers were long and autumn was forever.
- I think of 5th Street and the Saricks, Father Lascovitch, singing in church choir led by Jeanie. You sang alto, I sang as did Patsy but I don't remember our parts except we all sang in Latin. How did we do that? Did Georgie sing in the Baksa choir, too at Our Lady of the Sacred Heart of Jesus? We were pretty remarkable. All so young singing in Latin directed by Jeanie playing the organ and singing - her at such a young age to be doing that.
- I have a cloudy but persistent memory of you being hit by a car in Lackawanna. In my cloud I have a vision of Grandma Scarsella hysterical walking up and down the stairs like a crazy woman. The memory is oddly comic considering the circumstances.
- I see you walking down the halls of Frontier Central holding hands with this really cool guy with the DA. He was stylish with the drape pants, rolled up sleeves and that thing he did with his hair in front. You were so pretty in your crinolines and curly long hair. You guys looked like the dream couple out of American Bandstand. His name was Danny. Danny was a popular name back then. Remember Danny and the Juniors?
- You and Patsy became mothers to Mimi. Mimi came along and everyone became her mother or father. Ma was lucky to have us especially you and Pat. It wasn't that you were given Mimi as a chore. You gladly mothered her. Remember the time Ma and Mimi were locked in the bathroom in the Big Tree Road house? You fell into super mother hero mode. That was awesome and funnier than dad falling down the stairs in Lackawanna. Well, maybe not that funny.
- You married young. You married your heartthrob, Danny. You had a beautiful golden haired baby daughter, Julie. We all fussed over her as we did with Mimi. Remember when you asked me to babysit Julie? Why was I asked to do this? Well. I did. I was an awful babysitter. Poor Julie who was so full of mischief had an intolerant teenage uncle who wouldn't have any of it. You told me later that Julie begged you not to ever let me watch her again. That was the end of my babysitting career.
- Remember Lily Dale? Remember how Little Danny and I embarrassed everyone at the mass séance in a church, no less? We had to leave because we couldn't contain our laughter. You were having a hard time controlling yourself as well. And later - on the way home - the sisters' fight that was broadcast unknowingly to the patrons at a Wendy's. Little did we know that the outside drive-in take out mike was picking up the drama in the parking lot. It wasn't funny then but we laughed about it later and no one harder than you.
- I was always so amazed at how effortlessly you seemed to cook the best spaghetti sauce, Italian sausage and meatballs I will ever have. Everyone felt the same way about this. Michael's great lasagna is obviously inspired by you. And, for me, your pork chops were the best. I even went out and bought an identical electric skillet like yours so I could duplicate your pork chops - as if an appliance could recreate such a miracle as your pork chops - Julie's favorite as well.
- We bonded over TCM. I will miss our marathon conversations about Kim Novak, Loretta Young, Margaret O'Brien and all the other black and white icons we worshipped. You were so pleased when I produced and directed for my first HTUTS play, "Picnic".
- I have to say and this will sound a little odd but I so appreciated your honesty and humbleness when it came to your children. You were so proud of all of them - that was clear - yet, you never indulged in bragging or over praise. I liked that a lot about you. It was classy. You understood that your kids shined without mama directing hordes of spotlights on them or making up stories to hide their foibles. As for your grandchildren - you were their spotlight - warm and softly glowing. They loved you so much.
And now I am crying. I can't avoid these feelings any longer. So many highlights are coming at me now and I just cannot put them all down at this time. You spent your life with the love of your life. You and Danny forged a life of ups and downs and, as I saw today with everyone gathered, it was a life of worth. We were all saddened by your heavy grief over Julie. You tried to cope and it was a roller coaster of emotions for you. You had your closeness with many friends and family especially Mimi. I know it is a cliché' but I do so strongly feel that your soul is at peace. I think your family feels this, too.
Robert Anderson wrote. "Death ends a life but not a relationship"
Gloria, we will always be related - sister and brother. I will continue to talk to you when the need arises. I know you will hear me. I also know, now, that we don't die. I can't prove it but you can - you have - the radio, the bedroom TV, Danny's ray of sunlight, Mimi's multiple texts. Do I have stories - oh, what stories - talk to you later - love, Anthony
A few weeks back I ranted on about the lack of new artful singers. And that still remains true for me. But what I don't believe anymore is the end of such singing. There will always be someone popping up that will wow us and tell their story. I was just wanting it now. However, thanks to technology we can always hear Billie, Barbra, Frank, Judy, Morgana, Tony, Peggy, Kenny and so many more like Ella, Nina, Cab, etc. These will be the blueprint for the young. They will aspire, I know that for certain. I am reminded of that great line spoken by a young Broadway hopeful in Chorus Line. It goes something like this " They say Broadway is dying. It can't be- I just got here. " Don't you just love it. So true about just everything really.
We age and bemoan what comforted us when we were younger. We miss it dominating our current days. But its not over. Its just tucked away. We can revisit it through nostalgic avenues. We can also hold on for the young to deliver - to add to our life's soundtrack. After all we are still alive and hopefully relevant and whatever is the next big thing, we will revel in it OR bitch about it. This is inevitable.
So I will rant on about this loss. But, if I want to be completely honest - what I am really ranting about - what we coots all are ranting about is the loss of our youth. Isn't that a fact. However, don't rant too loud, you may miss the sound of something new. A chord or two may get drowned out by the echoes of your past. You can stay relevant without betraying your past. Yes?
Great Echo #1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJGqzudEDDE
I wait until I am inspired before I post on this blog.
I feel over-inspired what with all that is happening in our world and, specifically my world.
So, I am scattered and really don't know where to begin.
Boston,
Texas,
gun control,
spring,
water heater,
a/c,
Mercury in retrograde?
Where to start?
Fuck it. I don't have it in me today.
See you tomorrow.
Or the next day
.....maybe
....I'll let you know.
K?
Time marches on and cruelly leaves a trail of souvenirs behind. Unsentimental Time does not distinguish the plaster from the gold. Its job is to keep moving no matter what - keep marching and stomping on everything including some things it should take along. No, Time believes in traveling light. It is more interested in what's ahead and barely glances back. Time will undoubtedly stumble upon marvelous wonders as it steps lively toward tomorrow. But what it leaves in its wake can be cause for sorrow and regret.
I am presently bemoaning the demise of singing - the art of singing.
The human voice was the first musical instrument. It is the greatest musical instrument. Singing, of course, is still with us. It will always be around. The art of singing is dying. Artful singing is no longer relevant. I think it will never be relevant again.
Now, I am not referring to Opera. That has sadly become a specialty which means a comparatively small following. My concern is non classical singing - Jazz, Broadway, Country and especially Pop singing. The music that touches our daily lives - that influences us more than we know. We have the likes of Taylor Swift, Susan Boyle, Esperanza Spaulding, Justin Bieber and that smarmy Michael Buble' doing a rancid imitation of what I revere. Oh, there are so many more getting rich on artless singing. On Broadway we have Idina Menzel getting standing ovations for screeching out the most unpleasant sounds. I think "Wicked" was her fluke and anyway she played a witch which validates her cackles. Have you heard her tribute to Streisand? Oy Vey! Don't Rain On My Parade, Elphaba - please!
I listen to a wonderful Jazz station coming out of Toronto everyday. They play terrific vocalists from the past and the present. These newbies, unfortunately, haven't got a chance. Oh, they will play small clubs and venues and occasionally get a recording out but they will never achieve the fame and acclaim of Britney Spears.
Today glimmers of art flow from Jason Mraz, Adele, Justin Timberlake and their ilk. These artists do draw the stadium crowds and that's good. But, I believe they go against the trend. Time will not take them with him. Jason, Adele and Justin are remnants of what used to be. They are savvy enough to include ingredients in their music to grab a modern audience - which is what good Pop singers have always done. But music is devolving. Have you listened to a Broadway cast album recently - not a revival - a new show like "Newsies" or "Book of Mormon"? Going back a few short years were such anti-scores as "Hairspray", "Legally Blonde" , "Avenue Q" and "Fela'"
We will never see the likes of "South Pacific", "Carousel" and "Sweeney Todd" except in revival. And I predict due to the trend in taste - bad taste - these beautiful scores and the others like them will find themselves on opera stages in revivals only for the rich opera goer. I have already seen Broadway musicals in opera venues performed by opera companies. Not good. The Broadway musical belongs on the Broadway stage. These great shows won't have that advantage anymore. Shows such as these will not be written anymore. Time marches on and will leave the knack - the how to - the ability to do these shows AND most tragically the talent to know how to create these shows.
Give a peek at American Idol and The Voice. It proves my point. The "singing" lacks nuance, patience, true musicality and history. What we hear are ever so eager young hopefuls attempting to blow the roof off. They don't take the time to build the drama - to truly engage. What they do is begin at the end. We are left feeling nothing in our hearts. We may be awed by the bombast but is that art - artful? They come on like a bomb - BANG! "Love me - I'm great - can't you hear how great I am - listen how loud I can sing - hear that note I reached?" These singers have more in common with athletes than vocalists like Streisand, Kenny Rankin ( the great ), Dinah Washington, Morgana King, Ella Fitzgerald, Johnny Mathis, Chet Baker, Nancy Wilson and Nina Simone. WE WILL NEVER EVER SEE THE LIKES OF THESE SINGERS AGAIN - IT IS OVER!
To me a good pop singer is like a fireworks display. The works wheeze into the sky - opens with a crackle and pop - spreads out its beautiful colors and drops its spent diamonds down to the ground with a cascading resolve. You want fireworks? Listen to Judy Garland sing "The Man That Got Away". Hear Neil Young sing "Philadelphia". Marvel at Barbra Streisand's version of Peter Matz' incredible arrangement of "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered". Melt at Morgana King's "Lazy Afternoon" with Torie Zito's other worldly orchestration. And delve deep into your soul as Jane Monheit mesmerizes you with "Haunted Heart"
After you have listened to these GREAT recordings, tell me - PLEASE - is there anyone ANYONE today who can satisfy my longing for artful singing? I am prepared to download at your recommendation and will be forever grateful and especially happy that I was wrong. I so want to be wrong.
Jane Monheit "Haunted Heart"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYLI0tfiBpU
Kenny Rankin "Where Do You Start"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmglvqzN_uk
We fight. We bicker. We vow to never speak again. Weeks stretch into months and four years later you have won. Won? Just what did you win?
Winning is suppose to make you feel good. Winning is the result of accomplishment. What was accomplished?
We lived our lives. We pretended it wasn't important to need one another. We had our families, our spouses, our jobs, our fun. We could have all of this without one another. Maybe it is for the best - a selective happiness. It certainly is do-able. And so it was.
But life was like an unfinished feast. Some days no dessert. Some days meatless. Fresh baked bread - warm and lovely but missing the sweet butter to bring out its depth of flavor.
Or it was like being on a diet with no end in sight.
Or it was like coming to the end of a good book and finding the last page has been ripped out.
Finding common ground shouldn't be such a chore.
It isn't about forgiving. Forgiving is arrogant. It puts the forgiver in an exalted role.
It can be about understanding but..............
To be completely honest, it comes down to something so simple.
Just give up the ghost.
That is the only victory.
What matters most is that you are in each others lives again.
What matters less is blame.
And if you care enough, what matters least is why.
HAPPY EASTER
