"He sang it the way it needed to be played..."

Jerry Lee Lewis who passed away at the age of 87 lit a fuse to rock and roll, creating "Whole Lot of Shakin' Going On," and "Great Falls of Fire," while leaving his fans "Breathless," and rock and roll would never be the same. His first hit was a amped up version of a country classic, Ray Price's "Crazy Arms." He was known by his childhood name "the Killer," and admitted that he sang "the Devil's Music." He made some bad choices along the way, and halted a star-making career with one of those bad choices, but he continued to rock on, gospel on, and country on to rebuild his career as a "country and western" and "gospel" singer after his rock appeal had subsided.

But his influence lived on in rock artists like Elton John, Bruce Springsteen, and other eternal rockers like the Beatles. He was the last living member of the first entering class (in 1986) at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and he now has passed away. He was probably rock's finest pianist if not its most energetic with his rollicking exuberance style.

He was often unshakable in his view of what he should do and the way he should sing and play. As a teen, he was asked to leave a bible institute after playing ‘My God Is Real’ in his swah-buckling boogie-woogie style, and rock ’n’ roll style. [He] figured that’s the way it needed to be played.”

Bruce Springsteen said that Jerry Lee he was not just a rock artist he was rock'n'roll. He captured it's energy, it's enthusiasm, it's worts, and its failures. Jerry Lee contributed to all of them. And when the rumors of his death started to come out a few days ago, his spokespeople denied its truth, Like everything he did, he wanted to die on his own terms when he wanted to, and where he wanted to. 

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Mary-ing Time and Place

 I was sad to learn in today’s print edition of the NY Times, of the passing of “Mary McCaslin, 75, Folk Singer Who Longed for Old West.” I learned that she passed away at her home on October 2, a few weeks ago. I was somehow glad that it took a couple of weeks to disseminate the news, because Mary seemed to come from another time and place when communications were not so instant and rapid, when word travelled more organically, and you had time to savor one communication and memory without being bombarded with many. I knew she had been sick, suffering from a rare neurological disease. I had hoped for a recovery for her, and for science to catch up to what it had not been able to solve yet, but the time was not quite right or ripe for that, and the gentle Times obituary closed that hope for now.  

Mary was called by some as “iconic,” but I know that not too many know or knew of her talents, including her often close to pitch perfect arrangements of her own songs, and her arrangements of the classics from the Beatles to Motown to the great American songbook, spiked with her often exquisite voice. I was introduced to her close to 50 years ago with her pleasantly lilting “San Bernadino Waltz.” I often loved hearing her singing and playing guitar, but her music felt like a very sweet treat, like the wonderful cheese pastry I tried this morning from a local yet national organically-styled market. It was a truly wonderful taste experience, but one I wanted to savor and maybe not experience too often (for it might take away from the experience, and with regard to the pastry, for the good of my health, if nothing else).

The obituary described Mary as “a pure-voiced folk singer who sang plaintive laments for the fading Old West, reimagined pop and rock classics as mountain ballads and was an innovator of open tunings on the guitar…,” The obituary compared her to Joni Mitchell, whose open-tuning adventures took her into inflections of jazz, while Mary went the opposite way into more Celtic oriented and Old West directed sounds. One reviewer of her music pushed into using language such as describing her “clear, delicately affecting vocals” and the way her “unorthodox guitar tunings create unusual, ethereal melodies of striking beauty.” While another reviewer used language such as ““[h]er point of view suggests a woman who grew up riding horses under the open sky of the high plains. Even Miss McCaslin’s experiments with Motown songs conjure a plaintive rusticity.” Her version of the Supremes’ hit “You Keep Me Hangin’ On,” inspired the reviewer to say that she “transforms the tune from an urban teen-oriented lament into a mountain-flavored folk song of quiet, adult desperation.”

It is no accident that her music drives writers into pushing on the outer limits of language. I am hopeful that her passing inspires more people to learn of her music and to listen in to the sounds that conjure up a simpler world of purer values and better use of time, giving science the time to catch up with the continuing challenges of the day. 

A Master Teller of His and Her Story

 David McCullough, who passed away at 89 was the “every man” or the “every person” of history telling or retelling. From one vantage point, he had the dignity and earned the respect of the people almost as much as the historical figures he covered. From another perspective, he could break down key historical events and figures into digestible pieces that had a unique way of telling a whole story. He had a positive, optimistic point of view that made history approachable, interesting, and hopeful. When he was developing a book or book idea, he did not feel he was working on a book; he was living within the book he was creating. His recreation of the past will live on long into the future.

23Gretta Sandberg, Lewis Freeman and 21 others

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The Silence of a Master Storyteller

We lost a master storyteller--Vin Scully at the age of 94. He was a true word painter, a craftsman of sound sharing the canvas of baseball in front of him. I would listen to him from my childhood Brooklyn Dodgers days until his later years, when it did not matter who was playing. He was the "voice of the Dodgers" for an awe inspiring 67 years, but regardless of the teams, it was just a joy to hear and see how he described the action or inaction he was viewing. He could make an ordinary, every day game, extraordinary. Vin often allowed silence to paint the true picture, and the crowd noise to wash over you, just like he did as a child sliding under the four-legged Philco Console Radio to hear and feel the sound of an announcer and the crowd. It is now the time to end this word salad and let the pure joy of having heard Vin Scully wash over you.

To Be or Not To Be on Facebook: That Is Indeed A Question

I recently lost access to my old e-mail address because the company that offered my email service was discontinuing e-mail in its current form, and after that, I also had some unsuccessful login attempts to Facebook and lost access to Facebook for a few days at least. I tried to call Facebook but, of course there is no number to call, and no one is there waiting for your call. I tried numerous times to reset my password and do other things to get back into Facebook, but nothing was working.

So, I paused my efforts, and I was faced with the question, do I really want to continue to be on Facebook or not. I had more time for other things, but I certainly missed keeping in touch with friends on Facebook and what their activities were—their birthdays, their ups, their downs, and their other adventures, and what they recommended, were listening to, or were reading.

Temporarily, I re-dipped my toe in the Facebook morass, and created a new Facebook presence through another version of my name, so I could at least, from a distance anyway, stay in touch, and see if it truly mattered. With this new identity it was interesting to see who Facebook thought I might be interested in meeting as friends and topics in which I might be interested. None really seemed very relevant, but it was fun for a short time to see their recommendations and keep in the mix at a distance.

I paused again and thought about it from an existentialist point of view, and wondered what Søren Kierkegaard might do. From a refreshing article I had recently read and from some faded recollections from my college readings, I knew that Kierkegaard, one of the key figures of existentialism, felt that it is the act of making choices that brings more meaning to our lives; that through making choices, we can live more authentically, forming our own opinions, rather than being guided by the opinions of others, peer pressure, or the society as a whole. For Kierkegaard, understanding the meaning of our existence seems to come through true experiences when we make our own choices, and not following the choices of others.

What would Kierkegaard, who died in Copenhagen in 1855, really think of the virtual world of friends and groups and networks that is Facebook? The social-media enterprise seems to be continually working on its algorithms and to deemphasize content which may be passively consumed and prioritize content that Facebook predicts will make a meaningful difference. Facebook often suggests choices, but often subtly trying to take choice away. I often smile from the content that Facebook predicts will be meaningful to me, but sometimes (more than I might like to admit) they are spot on or close.

Finally, I decided to give it a last try, because I decided it is better to be frequently with my friends on Facebook albeit virtually, then to go back to the more infrequent contacts than often happen only by chance. This time I was able to log on through another device and I was back on Facebook. I made a choice, I will try to choose to be more meaningful and advance truer experience on Facebook by sharing thoughts like these. I welcome the views and journeys of others who have thought about whether to be or not to be on Facebook, and faced this choice.

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