Journal of an Urbane Gorilla

A riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.*

I showed these photos to Grams – again they’re out of her pile of old negatives. "I used to have red hair. All I have left are the freckles." She smiled that funny little smile and shook her head. She is such an enigma. So, I thought that I’d try another tack.

“Okay, tell me what song you think of when you look at this picture of you. And what were you doing, by the way?” She thought about this for a long moment and then said, “I was having fun. Pretending to be Claudette Colbert in ‘It Happened One Night.’ You know, when she’s showing Clark Gable how to hitch a ride. Just having fun, goofing off. It was Spring of 1967. Let’s see a song. I got it!" She sang, ‘Stop in the name of love,' before I break your arm. Think it oh-over.”

Something was wrong. I said, “Wait those aren’t the lyrics. Isn’t it ‘Stop in the name of love of before you break my heart’?” She smiled that enigmatic smile again, “Oh, really? Is it? I wouldn’t know.”

I gave up on that one and handed her the second photo.
“Okay, what’s this and what song does it make you think of?” She took the photo and quickly answered, “You silly, don’t you know what this is?” I shrugged. She went on, “I'll give you a hint: When I tuck you in at night, where do you put your wee head?” “On my pillow?” Now she was getting exasperated. She gave me the 'look,', “And where is that pillow my fuzzy friend?” “On my bed.” She nodded. “You mean to say that this is a picture of my bed?” “Yes, see the knobs, don’t you recognize them?” All of a sudden I could see them. It was my bed, my brass bed. How cool!

“Okay, what song does this one remind you of?” Again that smile, “Easy peasy, “That’s no way to say goodbye, by Leonard Cohen.” I didn't get it. She smiled and hugged me, "That bed is B.G., I'm afraid, my darling Gweeds." B.G.: Before Gweeds. The brick enigma again.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

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I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but now it's come to distances and both of us must try,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,
yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,
in city and in forest they smiled like me and you,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.

- Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye by Leonard Cohen

Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart
Stop! in the name of love
Before you break my heart

Baby, think it over
Think it over, baby
Ooh, think it over baby...
Stop in the Name of Love - Holland/lDozier/Holland

*Winston Churchill said a form of this quote in a radio broadcast in Oct 1939: 'I cannot forecast to you the action of Russia. It is a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.'

Just give me an oom-pah-pah, by Strauss*

Last night I dreamt of Sacher Tortes. Wonderful piles of sacher tortes, stacked up to the sky. When I woke up I realized that I had a long time to wait for Sacher Tortes. But next April, I’m going to swim in Sacher Tortes, I’m going to revel in Sacher Tortes, I’m going roll in Sacher Tortes.

I had an email back from the hotel in Vienna. A very nice lady named, Julia, said that she was ever so sorry, but all of their rental car contacts were for in Austria only. So, unless Emlyn can find something, it looks as if the train is our mode of transport to Firenze. All of which means, we have to go via Venice. I’ll just have to pack a few banana daiquiris in a thermos. That’ll get me through it, and I'm getting my own water wings this time.

I wanted to see what events were going on in Vienna next April, so I Googled it. I love to google. Grams showed me how to google in a productive way. “Don’t be too specific. Go from a general area to what you want.” So, I put in ‘Vienna sacher’ and bingo! Here’s what I found.

Did you know that 2006 is the 250 anniversary of Mozart’s birth? How cool is that? This site even has a way to have you input when you’ll be coming to Vienna and it will tell you what’s going on while you’re there. Here’s the schedule for the Spanish Riding School. Wow!

Next, I’m on to the Wi-Fi and Internet opportunities in Vienna. I have to be able to post from there!

Auf Wiedersehen,

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

*Jah, jah, jah, give me oom-pa-pah
When I want a melody
Lilting through the house
Then I want a melody
By Strauss
It laughs, it sings, the world is in rhyme
Swinging to three-quarter time

Let the danube flow along
And the fledermauss
Keep the wine and give me song
By Strauss

By jove, by jing, by strauss is the thing
So I say to ha-cha-cha, heraus!
Just give me an oom-pa-pah, by Strauss!

By Strauss (the chorus) – by George and Ira Gershwin

Will you still be sending me a Valentine, birthday greeting, bottle of wine?

Since I told you about Grams’ misadventures in Hawaii yesterday, I was going to be fair and tell you about the time that Big Guy found oil in his backyard, but this is too good. Grams is used to being the punch line to my stories. So, here’s another one.

Back in the days when Grams was actually young, she was crazy about the Beatles. She had discovered them in December of 1963. Now, she has often said that it was probably the trauma of the previous month: everyone needed a distraction. The Beatles were to give her a few years of distraction.

She and her friend, Kathy Pierce, had secured tickets to the Beatles appearance at the Hollywood Bowl for late summer of 1964. Of course, this was not enough for Grams. When she found out that the Beatles were going to be appearing in Las Vegas in August, she had to go. The show was on a Thursday. Kathy was working at Prudential Insurance Company at the time. Grams was waiting to go off to University in September and had the summer off. Grams does not do well when she has time on her hands. She can find more trouble to get into than 12 monkeys.

Well, Grams worked on Kathy until she finally relented and decided that she would call in sick to work and go to Las Vegas. In addition, her co-worker Angie wanted to come too. Kathy had a 1957 Volkswagen bug. Not really something you’d want to go across the desert in, but when you’re young you don’t know this: ignorance is bliss, eh?

Naturally, they had seen “A Hard Day’s Night” when it came out in July. They loved it and Grams would get to study that film in an editing class when she went off to university. Anyway, Grams rode her bicycle over to Beverly Hills to the ticket office for the Sahara hotel (they were sponsoring the event) and purchased the tickets.

So, on the appointed day, they all piled into Kathy’s car and headed for Las Vegas. They figured that going to the 4 pm show would get them back early enough that none of their parents would figure out what they had done. All the way across the desert, they sang Beatles tunes. Kathy and Angie were dressed for work, but Grams was a tad more casual. So, as they went through the desert, Kathy and Angie were suffering.

It wasn’t until they got to the Convention Centre that they realised just how fabulous their seats were: Grams had got tickets right up front. See the picture of the ticket stub? That’s the 4th row from the front. Grams had the 7th seat from the centre. It was their first rock concert and they could hardly hear for the screaming. But, there they were and the Beatles were just a few feet away. Grams was in heaven. In the photo, from the left it’s Paul, George and John with Ringo on the drums.

Grams had a hard time remembering to take photos, she was that excited. She had just purchased a 35mm SLR camera with her earnings from a part-time job. She didn’t have a flash, but there were so many flashes going off in the auditorium, that more of the photos came out than she realised at the time.

When they emerged from the auditorium, their ears were ringing. They couldn’t hear for the better part of an hour. Oh, what a glorious time!

Of course, when they got home there was hell to pay. Kathy’s work had called to check on her and her mother said that she had gone to work. Kathy and Angie lost their jobs. Kathy’s parents took her car away from her until she could start making payments again. Gram’s mum confiscated her new camera. Later that night Grams called Kathy and they talked about the day and the consequences. Before they rung off Grams said, “but it was worth it!” Kathy was quiet, “I don’t know, maybe not.”

Kathy and Angie got new jobs at the phone company almost immediately and by the time the Hollywood Bowl appearance came ‘round, all had been forgiven and off they went. The seats weren’t nearly as good as the ones in Las Vegas and it was just as noisy, but they had the memory of Las Vegas and no one could take that away from them.

Just the other night they were talking about the Las Vegas adventure on the phone and laughing about it. Grams said to Kathy, “See, it was worth, wasn’t it?” Kathy relented, “I suppose, but it didn’t seem so at the time.” Time heals all memories.

Now, I’ve got to get her to tell me her stories about the Mothers of Invention, Frank Zappa, the Shrine auditorium on Saturday nights, and Suzy Creamcheese.

That Grams, wotta woman!

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

If somehow you could pack up your sorrows, and give them all to me, You would lose them, I know how to use them. Give them all to me*

Grams found some neat pictures today. They’re almost 40 years old. When Grams was young she used to get around. In 1967 she went to the Monterey Pop Festival. It was supposed to the first one, but it ended up the last one. But these pictures weren’t from that.

A week or two later, she went to the Monterey Folk Festival. This was not the first one nor the last. Grams got some great photos of people, performers and banners. There were quite a few of some children. Looking at them she said, "Oh my, they'd be in their 40s now." She said it had been a sunny warm day. The Vietnam war was beginning to be recognized and protested, but there had been no hint of the tumult to follow the next year. And certainly this day was so very peaceful.

Joan Baez, of course, was there. Her sister, Mimi Farina was there too. That’s them in the third photo. Mimi had been married to Richard Farina who wrote, “Been down so long, it looks like up to me.” He had died in a motorcycle accident not long before that day.

Joan Baez went on to lead an activist’s life. Mimi went on to found “Bread and Roses.” This organization brings music to people who are institutionalised. Mimi died not long ago, but Bread and Roses lives on.

I asked Grams what she remembered most about that day. “It was warm, and the music was beautiful. It was very laid back, very different from the Pop Festival. I didn’t know anyone. There was no one to share it with. That’s what I remember.”

That got her a hug.

A dopo e Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

Yes, I know the poster is from another year, but Grams hadn’t saved one. Now I have to get her to tell me about the Mothers of Invention.

Hi ho Silver and away!

Grams came home today with a little clipping from a very old newspaper. She was laughing as she got into the car and insisted on reading the clipping to us. It seems that she was cataloging a very old book in the library today and this little clipping fell out. She couldn’t leave the clipping in the book (something about acidity) and she didn’t want to throw it away, so she brought it home.

The book was about Gioachino Rossini, the great composer, and the clipping was about a letter he had written. Here’s what it said:

M. de Mirandel has just published an exceedingly curious letter, written by Rossini in reply to a young artist who consulted him as to the best manner of composing an overture . . .

“First recipe, – Wait till the evening before the first performance. Nothing excites inspiration like necessity; the presence of a copyist waiting for your work, and the view of a manager in despair tearing out his hair by handsful. In Italy, in my time, all managers were bald at thirty.

Second, - I composed the overture to Othello in a small room in the Barbaja Palace, where the baldest and most ferocious of managers had shut me up by force, with nothing but a dish of macaroni, and the threat that I should not leave the place alive till I had written the last note.

Third, - I wrote the overture to Gazza Ladra on the day of the first performance, in the upper loft of La Scala, where I had been confined by the manager, under guard of four scene-shifters who had orders to throw my text out the window bit by bit to copyists, who were waiting to transcribe it; in default of music, I was to be thrown out myself.

Fourth, - For Barbiere I did better. I composed no overture, but tacked on one for a very serious work, called Elisabetta. The public were delighted.

Fifth, - I composed the overture to Count Ory when angling, with my feet in the water, and when in the company of M. Aguado who was talking Spanish finance all the time.

Sixth, - That of Guillame Tell was written under somewhat similar conditions.

Seventh, - I did not compose any overture for Moise, etc.”

Now, Rossini looks like a fairly somber fellow; but he obviously had a sense of humor. I like Rossini and the thought of all those bald managers and the scene-shifters tossing Rossini out of the window.

Here’s the other funny thing. There are 2 tombs for Rossini: one in Paris at the Pere Lachaise cemetery, and one in Firenze at Santa Croce church. Here’s the story. Rossini died near Paris and was, for a while, buried there. Later, he was moved to Santa Croce. He’s in good company. Dante, Michelangelo, Machiavelli, Galileo and even Marconi are there. More than one was moved there after being buried elsewhere.

Of course we all know the William Tell overture, right Kemosabe? I get the feeling Rossini would’ve approved of how it’s been used.

A la prochaine. Mochas smoochas,

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Through fair fields and meadows---Thro' country and town.

Can you imagine being in a field and seeing a canal boat serenely float by? Better yet, how about floating ‘through’ the fields of England? I don’t do water, but Grams has this fantasy about floating all around Britain on a canal boat.

There are a lot more canals in Britain than I realized. This canal is in Chester. We had just come out from a pub lunch and we found these canal boats. They were obviously well-loved and maintained. Canal boats inspire all kinds of artwork. It’s always worth a peek over the rail to see what flights of fancy may be around the deck.

Look at the seaside town with its lighthouse on the doors. Of course this canal boat would never get near the seaside, so it is a flight of fancy.

These boats are live-aboard. They are definitely people’s homes but the owners do sometimes let them out. Well, I’d check into a B&B while Grams floated around the canals. Big Guy would probably join me. We’d wave to Grams from our window.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

*Full free o'er the water our bonny boat glides,

Nor wait we for fair winds, nor stay we for tides;

Through fair fields and meadows---Thro' country and town.

All gaily and gladly, our course we hold on.

From the lake to the river -- from river to lake,

Full freighted or light, we still leave a wake;

From the west bearing all that a rich country yields,

To the labor which makes the morn glad in the fields.

Retuning again from the river's bright breast,

Bear the products of climes far off, to the west--

And add to the backwoodsman's comfort and ease,

All that commerce can give by its spoils of the seas.

I'll love you till the ocean is folded and hung up to dry.

“‘I'll love you till the ocean is folded and hung up to dry. And the seven stars go squawking, like geese about the sky.’”*

Imagine my surprise when the Grams said that to me. She isn’t the most sentimental of humans, so I hadn’t expected much when I asked her if she would always love me. She didn’t make it up herself, she assured me of that. But I don’t care; she loves me and always will. That’s all that matters.

I do get little mushy around this time of year. Grams starts cooking things like pumpkin loaf and gingerbread.  Big Guy makes hot spiced cider and cocoa for me and my buds. The house smells so good. Big Guy and Grams go around whistling tunes like “Joy to the World” and “God rest ye merry gentlemen.”

And it seems as if everyone from the SBR** comes through this time of year. They don’t stay long and there’re always tearful farewells. So, it’s good cheer and sad leave-takings. That’s the yin and yang of the season.

So, my cup sloppeth over – I got that one from Grams. She’s fond of saying it and she really feels it too. Maybe that’s why I love her so much, her ‘cup’ is always full to the brim and she makes sure mine is too.

A la prochaine. Moochas smoochas,   

                                                     

*As I Walked Out One Evening – by WH Auden

                                                  

**Small Banana Republic