Roger Ebert

More than any movie star ever could, Roger Ebert epitomized what the movies mean to me.  He was a great writer, his Pulitzer Prize wonderful proof of that.  But to really understand how great a writer he was, spend some time at this link and read some of his blog posts.  Yes, there are typos, but that is something I can certainly forgive considering the wealth of fantastic subject matter he chose to hold court on.  He was a brave man and a good man, and I will miss him.  I will keep the link to this blog here for a while.  I have quite a backlog of blog posts that I still need to get to.

Rest in Peace, Roger.

And read this post from Roger's wife Chaz.  He lived a long life, and in spite of all his medical difficulties these last ten years, a good life.

http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2013/04/a_statement_from_chaz_ebert.html

Christopher Hitchens, Andrew Sullivan and Friendship

Christopher Hitchens died today. Needless to say, for those of you who know Hitchens' writings - and know me - we did not have the same beliefs on a lot of things. His profoundly proud and passionately defended writings on atheism are what drew me to him. But I have learned more about him in the occasional mention at Andrew Sullivan's The Dish, where I am a devoted reader, and with whom I also have disagreements. That these two men, so different in so many ways, could nurture a friendship of truth and honor and admiration of one another is a beautiful thing. That our world as a whole, and certainly our politics here in the United States could learn so much from what these men forged, would be a wonder should it ever happen. It seems a miserable far away concept right now in this season of presidential campaign posturing.

We make note of a person's worth at their death. I wish we could all be more aware of the greatness of people and their value to each of us individually and to mankind as a whole during their lives. I am as guilty as anyone in doing this, though I feel so lucky to have had Andrew Sullivan guiding us through these last weeks of Christopher Hitchens life. He might not feel that he was doing this at all; his blog is nothing if not an at different times witty, deeply moving, oft times muddled, more times brilliant but always honest stream of consciousness. His sad, soulful postings lately, and especially today, about his friend have been such a wonderful testament to the man who was Christopher Hitchens.

Andrew posted this quote today about friendship:

"In a friend one should have one's best enemy. You should be closest to him with your heart when you resist him."

"Your compassion should be a guess--to know first whether your friend wants compassion. Perhaps what he loves in you is the unbroken eye and the glance of eternity. Compassion for the friend should conceal itself under a hard shell, and you should break a tooth on it. That way it will have delicacy and sweetness,"

-Friedrich Nietzsche.

I think this is so true. I think that if you cannot be honest and disagreeable with your friends, then you really do not understand what friendship means. Witnessing a beautiful friendship is an amazing thing. Having one is something nearly impossible to put into words, though I suspect Nietzsche and Sullivan have come right close to expressing it nearly perfectly in days past and today.

Rest in peace, Christopher Hitchens.

And go here to read an obituary. Fascinating to the end.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/12/16/arts/christopher-hitchens-is-dead-at-62-obituary.html?_r=1

Loved Real Good

That's what Bailey would have said about his time with us. The big guy passed away on Thursday after a brief illness. He had a long series of troubles with his health over the years, so I think that he did pretty well for a big dog. He lived to be about 8 1/2 years old, and he lived in grand style for a guy who was adopted out twice from the shelter - and then brought back both times. His time before that could not have been great, either, or he would not have landed in the shelter in the first place.

Bailey was a handful, as anyone who knows me and has heard me speak of him can attest. Of course, when he met new people he came across as the perfect gentleman:

Note: I had to mask the identity of the person in this photo as she is massively paranoid about her picture getting splashed all over the Web. It makes me laugh that I actually did this for her, because, honestly, how many people are really reading my blog? Snort.

Seriously, he really was the greatest dog with visitors and on outings (except in the car - ugh). Calm, great on a leash when we would hit the farmers markets or take a walk on a trail. He was amazingly better behaved out and about or with guests.

Huh...

Bailey was a lucky boy. He got to go on vacation...this is the Big B lazing on Deb and Darryl's bed at the house we rented in the Shenandoah Valley (we had 6 dogs in that house and left it spotless...with no damage, Miller! - but that's a story for another time):

He also vacationed in North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Maine, the Catskills, and finally lived the vacation life in the Adirondacks in upstate New York. He also went on lots of local excursions, like this trip to Cape May, New Jersey, and a ride on the ferry:



Everyone who knows me recognizes the little guy sitting there next to Bailey. That's Fred, or as Bailey used to call him, "My Thanksgiving Present." I adopted Fred because my sister and I were looking for a dog to befriend Bailey - and to keep Bailey out of Boo's sights. Bailey wasn't Boo's favorite brother - Boo never forgot about all those times that Bailey stepped on him when he first came to live with us. But getting Fred was just the ticket: Bailey and Fred were best buds from the get-go. They played great together, despite Bailey's substantial size advantage:


And he was know as "My Thanksgiving Present" because we brought him home on November 22nd, four years ago, and the day before Thanksgiving. Bailey was never happier, I don't think, than he was those first few months with his new pal.

My 16 1/2 year old Lab/Golden mix Miller is the most patient of fellows. He was always so great with Bailey, despite the fact that Bailey really could be such a nudge. This is Miller and Bailey, hangin' in the backyard in Glassboro:

I am pretty sure that not a day went by in the nearly 6 1/2 years that I called Bailey mine that I didn't yell at him. He wasn't the smartest dog in the world. My vet back in New Jersey, who was when I lived down there and remains to this day one of the great veterinarians that I have had the pleasure to take my dogs to, used to say that Bailey was a lot like a GQ model: "Beautiful on the outside," he said, and then with just the most perfect hesitation he added, pointing up to his own head, "but not a whole lot up here."


He was such a pretty guy, everybody said so. The disease that he suffered from, it was known as masticatory myositis, or basically a deterioration of the muscles, manifested itself almost exclusively in the loss of muscle around his skull. This is why the bump on the top of his head was more and more noticable. We're pretty sure that muscles elsewhere had started to be affected. And there were other things that were going to be trouble for him. I am not a religious person and do not believe in prayer or "blessings", but I do think that it was fortuitous, maybe, that he had such a short illness because he was going to have a hard time of it with the other difficulties we found from testing.

I had adopted a new dog not all that long ago, Homer, another Beagle mix. It might have been a sign that Bailey wasn't himself when he didn't greet Homer with open paws. He seemed a little peeved sometimes with the new kid on the block, when he wasn't being his usual sweet self, like this:


So, as with all of the dogs that I have loved and lost, I will get over this. I will cry suddenly at the least mention of Bailey's name, as I am right now as I type this. But I have three wonderful dogs that make me laugh and feel so good and return all of the love that I give them, and more. There will be other dogs in my life, eventually. Bailey was special, and he required a special family to be with. I feel lucky to have been able to give him a good life. I wish I could do it for more dogs.

As I mentioned, I am not religious, but I do believe that if there is a heaven then these two boys, Bailey and Boo, are up there playing - together for a change - with all of their other dog buddies and cousins that have left us. I'm sure there is a great party going on up there, with Bailey barking long and loud, which he was wont to do for no good reason at all.

Rest in peace, my sweet boy.

Remembrance

I wish that these people who are mourning the death of Michael Jackson, and by these people I mean the public and the family and friends who continue their mourning in public, could learn to mourn better for celebrities or others who have derived some fame for what they have done. I think the best way to mourn someone who has passed is in private, in your own thoughts and memories of that person and how he or she made you feel when they were alive. There are famous people who died long ago who I still mourn, but I rarely if ever talk about it. It's really for me to know and feel, and only for you to know if I feel like talking about it. Frankly, there has been too much said about Michael Jackson this week for my taste, and I am inclined to talk more about other people who have died and who I still miss decades later.

Or just two short years later.

Two years ago today, the opera singer Jerry Hadley shot himself in the head with an air rifle. He lingered on for eight days before finally passing away. He was a great singer, a great musician, and well-loved by those who knew and worked with him. He recorded one of my favorite albums ever, "Standing Room Only", a cross-over for the great American opera singer into Broadway.

His interpretations on this album are fantastic, his voice crystal clear, his diction superb and his sustained notes thrilling. Every song is wonderful on this CD, but my favorites are the opening one on this album, from Brigadoon, "Almost Like Being in Love", the great "What Kind of Fool Am I?" from "Stop the World - I Want to Get Off", with its dramatic, powerful last note, followed immediately by the beginnings, so quiet and emotional, of "Anthem" from the musical "Chess". He also recorded the complete version of "Show Boat" as well as Leonard Bernstein's "Candide" and "Mass" and was the autobiographical hero of Paul McCartney's "Liverpool Oratorio".

This is not to say that he wasn't a wonderful opera performer, as he was that, too. And he performed some of the more interesting and complicated of the repertoire, including "The Tales of Hoffman", "The Rake's Progress", created the title role in "The Great Gatsby" and a recorded for DVD performance at the Salzburg Festival in 1998 of Kurt weill's "Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny". It pains me when performers of this caliber end their own lives. It happens far too often. You could even say that Michael Jackson did it years ago.

I miss Bobby Darin. He was only 37 when he died of complications from heart surgery. He had heart problems since he was a child, brought on by a number of bouts of rheumatic fever. He knew that he only had a short time in this world to make an impact, and boy did he ever.

"Splish Splash", "Dream Lover", one of the greatest recordings ever made, "Mack the Knife", "Beyond the Sea", "Lazy River" and one of my personal favorites from his "folk period", "Simple Song of Freedom". He was a great singer and songwriter, and very smart. He was also a fine actor. He was nominated for a Golden Globe for his performance in "Pressure Point" and received an Academy Award nomination for supporting actor for his performance as a shell-shocked soldier opposite Gregory Peck in "Captain Newman, M.D." It was a terrific performance in an underrated film.

I listen to Bobby Darin and Jerry Hadley quite a lot. One has been gone over 30 years, the other just two.



Another performer that I loved was Pete Duel. He, like Jerry Hadley, shot himself. I was quite young when Pete Duel killed himself, and I was pretty inconsolable about it, but I remember, even back then, that I kept those feelings pretty much to myself. I think it is somewhat undignified for people to mourn so in public. I was 11 years old, and then, two years after Pete died, Bobby Darin died. It was a painful time. Pete didn't leave the mark in his few 30-some years that Bobby Darin did in his, but I loved him anyway. "Alias Smith and Jones" remains one of my all-time favorite shows; I think it was the perfect casting, with Ben Murphy as Kid Curry and Pete as Hannibal Heyes, two outlaws who were popular with "everyone but the railroads and the banks" because they never shot anyone. It was a sweet premise for a show, handled with great charm and humor. And chemistry is everything in these "buddy" shows and films, as Paul Newman and Robert Redford showed in the movie many say the series was based upon. I think Alias Smith and Jones was the very beginning of what, for me, grew to be a deep and abiding love of the American West. I cannot wait to get out West again. My one trip, with my Beagle Fred, was the great trip of my lifetime. Pete was also always picking up stray dogs and adopting others from shelters to add to his brood, and you know how I feel about that.

I adored Luciano Pavarotti, and I was lucky enough to live outside of Philadelphia when he was spending so much time there with his international vocal competition. I saw him in concert many times, I saw him perform "Tosca" and "La Boheme", one at the Mann Music Center and one at the Academy of Music. And Dana and I saw him and Jose Carreras and Placido Domingo at the "Three Tenors" concert at Dodger Stadium in Los Angeles. I became a fan of opera in ninth grade when I took Italian as my foreign language elective. I had a handsome teacher, Mr. Mazzotta, and the Italian Club leader and my Italian teacher for the next three years, Cesarina DeCesero, afforded us many, many opportunities to see opera and listen to it in class. To my ear, Pavarotti was unique amongst tenors. The clarity of the Italian, for he certainly was unsurpassed in singing Italian opera and popular song, and the lyricism of his vocals was just beautiful. He made me cry so many times. Even though he was 72 when he died and hadn't really been singing much anymore, I still feel that he left too soon. But he had a brilliant, long career, and was considered the great tenor of his generation, and possibly of all time. He was my favorite tenor, and will be forever.