Giving thanks

These turkeys were roaming the woods at Big Bass Lake. I tried to get closer to get better shots but they just took off. Dumb fowl had no idea what was happening, not realizing they could win stardom for appearing in my lousy blog post. If they were spared from being the centerpiece at the Thanksgiving table, then they must have plenty to thank for.

Contrary to what I was accustomed to, these fellas were quiet. There was no panic and none of the noisy chattering. I expected at least one of them to attack me, but no they just arrogantly strutted away. From what I gathered, turkeys are pretty stupid. They make a lot of noise but run scared of everything. Throw them an apple and like a football it will be tossed around and played with!

Out on Long Island I heard that while the hunters were busy chasing these birds for their holiday dinner, one got away and landed on the roof of a house. So they must not be stupid after all if they can climb trees, rooftops and even fly!

One thing they can be trusted to do quite well is to rid Bambi of her ticks. Just raise a farm of these feathered friends and you got yourself free of Lyme disease.

And on that note, have a Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy your turkeyfest.

Turandot

"No one shall sleep!" "Nessun dorma!"

It matters little that the tenor Frank Porretta who played the part of Calaf did not have the spunk and depth that Pavarotti had, a thunderous applause followed his splendid rendition of this famous tenor aria. It was Porretta's Met debut.

Turandot is Puccini's final opera and a compelling story of one suitor's bold attempts to win the heart of the man-hating princess. It is also considered a principal piece in any operatic repertoire and is listed as one of the top most-performed operas in North America.

The setting is Peking near the Forbidden City, legendary times. The Princess Turandot has taken a sacred oath that she will marry only a man of noble birth who can solve three riddles. The penalty for failure is death. The cold-hearted Turandot who has sworn vengeance against all men was played by the acclaimed dramatic soprano Maria Guleghina. Her singing was received enthusiastically by the discriminating Met audience. The great baritone Samuel Ramey played Timur and the role of Liu was sung by Marina Poplavskaya.

This is another one of Met's grandly scaled productions, with its massive casting and exuberant costume designs. The props were great on details and the large chorus alternating with arias imbued the opera house with such lush sounds. There probably wasn't an empty seat in the house and I'm willing to bet that many in the crowd belong to the born-and-bred in the opera. You can tell, they're all dressed up and they mingle at the lobby after the performance. The first time I saw Turandot was at the New York City Opera and I'd say that was modest compared to this Met production.

Is it TuranDOT or TuranDOUGH? A question that has followed this opera over the years. The debate probably stems from the fact that the opera was taken from a Persian term Turandohkt which meant daughter of Persia in which case the letters K and T are voiced. According to the scholars, Puccini must have Italian-ized the title and never pronounced the ending letter T, but his granddaughter who is the keeper of Villa Puccini clearly stated that it must be pronounced with the T.

I pronounce it ending with the DOT sound. That again, matters very little. I didn't write the codes for pronunciation so I wouldn't worry about that. This performance was perfect and that's with a T.

On the way home I caught this scene underground near 42nd Street - Music Under New York with a string quartet playing a Bach composition. And no, the cellist is not half-naked. She's just wearing a tube top, okay?

Out with the old?

On opposite sides of the aisle on the train yesterday, two riders were reading "books". A guy with earbuds stuck in his ears had a hardcopy of Isaac Asimov's The Robots of Dawn which he fished out of his backpack that was sitting on the floor (yuck!). The girl next to me on the other hand was head down dopily reading from the tiny screen of her smartphone scrolling thru pages of what appeared to be entries from a "book". With her hair dangling down the screen it was hard for me as I hover and try to look at what she's reading. Finally, she raised her head. What a relief- it was not a faceless body after all! Then she went on to read further ignoring me completely.

I noted as I surveyed the car that 11 out of 12 were wearing black, at least three people reading paperbacks and the rest were thumbing away and toying with their phones. All the nifty tricks technology can offer, books online in this case, impress me but I'll have none of that. Maybe I'm becoming a little old lady petrifying into a party-pooper of modern technology. I just can't see myself staring at the screen for hours on, reading Wuthering Heights. I can't even see for crying out loud.

Technology is creeping into our lives at an accelerated pace, we can complain all we want but it's here to stay. After working in the industry that put plenty of food on my table, I'm sounding like a thankless twit, don't I? I'm not, it's just that when it comes to decisions on purchasing new gadgets I can be my worst enemy and here's one to prove it and annoy all you techies out there! Let me digress.

Tippy tap. Save. Tippy tippy tap. Save. Tippy.....Poof!

And then it dies. For some time now, I'd be clicking and typing away on a wing and a prayer. Until my laptop finally went to rest. After living past its life span with almost 8 years of hard labor it had every right to do so. Trouble is I procrastinated. I'm pleased with Windows XP, I tried to hang on to that for as long as I could. Whenever friends talk about their new computers equipped with Vista I just nod. That was a deal breaker. I figured I'd wait until the kinks are no more or maybe I was just biding my time something I do a lot of.

Finally, I got the new toy with Windows 7 without the demands for hardware upgrade that Vista requires or so they claim. Let the doomsayers say that 7 is just a spin on Vista but hey, I thought long and hard about this, and I'm keepin' it. At least now the family won't think I'm such an old fossil. So let's blog away.

Anyway, back to my story. Despite all the distractions, I got to the city in time for the concert and reception at the David Rubenstein Atrium at the Lincoln Center campus. Touting its greenness, it features two 21-foot tall vertical gardens lush with living plants. That's neat but let's see how they maintain that. A huge media wall also displays LC performance information for the day. Cool.

Like most of my endless forays into Manhattan, I always meet some interesting people. This time, it's Carol, a native of Hawaii who is here on a parent day visit with her son studying vocal music at NYU. She's quite excited about his recital this weekend.



We were later joined at the table by Julia a retired teacher, an avid jazz fan and a member of the Duke Ellington Society. Together with her daughter Nina and grandaughter Sophie we enjoyed the program while partaking of some light snacks served by 'wichcraft. Young Sophie entertained herself by alternately dancing to the music and doodling away. If anyone knew how to appreciate good sounds, these folks did.

The Asphalt Orchestra entertained us with an eclectic collection of part parade and part halftime music. I couldn't figure out what to call them, a marching band of sorts which reminds me of Seventy Six Trombones. It was a refreshing change with this mix of young musicians so down to earth with their jeans and shirt/shorts garbs parading around us, banging away and having a good time. They were followed by the Juilliard Jazz Ensemble a group of students from the Juilliard School with their brilliant rendition of some of John Coltrane's music. It doesn't get any better than that and what a way to relax and decompress. It was also wonderful to have met Carol and Julia and of course cute Sophie and Nina.



By the way, I'm not going to dump my old notebook or "unfriend" my old friends after I befriended new ones. Old is good but they don't make those kind anymore, they're the best.

The Lower East Side (LES)

Our mission today is to take a glimpse of the past and look at the way of life of the early immigrants in NYC. In one form or another some of us could probably trace our ancestry to someone who has sailed the Mayflower or passed through Ellis Island. Being an immigrant myself makes the best case for not passing up the opportunity to visit the Tenement Museum on the Lower East Side. I was somewhat disappointed with the docent’s presentation, but it was an up-close learning experience.

The Tenement Museum building on Orchard Street prides itself with the signature old New York City wrought iron railings and freshly stained wood moldings. In contrast however, hidden behind the ornamented façade, there live some remarkable but sad life stories not known to many. A few steps away is a former haberdashery turned into a men’s boutique now selling trousers at an easy $300 a pair. Across the street from the museum is the Hotel Blue Moon formerly tenement housing transformed into a 22- room eight storey luxury hotel a nightly rental of which fetches from $295 to $1,000. Today this is the picture of the Lower East Side but in 1863 this district is anything but trendy.

Popular in the ‘70s as the bargain district for garments both wholesale and retail, Orchard Street near Delancey and its nearby neighborhoods is culturally diverse. It is hard to walk the streets of the New York or ride its subways, without taking notice that this is a city of immigrants. In 1840, a heavy flow of immigrants arrived into the country. Many of them settled in New York mostly Germans and Irish and later followed by the Chinese.

This residence was constructed by a German-born tailor who saw the need for homes for many immigrants. The housing was shared by people of different ethnic origins. Through this tour, we followed the lives of The Moores, an Irish family, who resided in this tenement housing cramped in a 475 square feet quarters in a four-storey walk-up building. The rooms were set up as they were many decades ago. The halls of the apartment were dim and the place is crumbling. One can almost tell from the peeling layers of wall covering the number of families that have previously occupied the place. The story of their survival and the challenges of adjusting to life in this country is heart-rending, particularly that of feeding the babies with swill milk.

There is so much history in the building and it shows of the support for the immigration movement at the time. It was a moving experience.



Gentrification, however, has spurred so many changes in this district and caused so much anxiety among the small business establishments and the apartment dwellers that are being displaced. The Lower East Side is now home to many high-end eateries, trendy shops and art galleries. One place that survived is the landmark Guss Pickles, the "largest pickle emporium in the world" boasting its barrels of sour tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and sauerkraut by the store entrance. Other buildings of great architectural appeal which are adorned with their fire ladders/verandas in the front (but which some will find nowadays as an eyesore) were also spared.

It was surprisingly not difficult to find a Thai restaurant whose prices were knocked down a notch from its upscale relatives. The place is called Sticky Rice and their "box-menus" can hardly be described as tasting of cardboard. They are elaborate Bento boxes and not made of paper. Pad thai or satay - delicious and affordable. (I was so hungry I forgot to take a picture).

That's the flavor of the Lower East Side - authentic even post-gentrification. A must-not-miss when visiting New York. Whether you are an immigrant or not, it deserves your attention.

Aerosmith who?

Heavy metal came from chemistry. That’s a given! Acid rock might have originated from geology and chemistry. Rap, I have no clue where that stemmed out of and I’m not apologetic for my ignorance. Whatever the term, they seem to come in different shapes and sizes for those who live and die for rock.

The world of rock music is packed with a long list of bands with ridiculous-sounding names. If you think remembering their names is a challenge, try listening to their music. It is daunting and as a baby boomer I had my share of the days of the great headliners such as The Who, Van Morrison, Pink Floyd, Black Sabbath, Aerosmith, etc.

The tabloids these days are filled with rumors of Aerosmith breaking up. Take it easy, you won't hear me crying over their shaky future because I’m not a fan. And why am I writing about them you ask?

1975, five years into my stay in New York, I was curious as a country mouse lost in a cheesecake factory. Commuting to work in the city in those days was a killer and so I decided to make Manhattan my home during the work week and the weekend usually found me in my Long Island nest with my cousins. Some weekends I stayed in the city. I heard of a band that will perform at the Schaeffer Music Festival during one of those weekends so I decided to check it out. I left nothing to chance, I stood in line for tickets early. The venue was Central Park and the line snaked around the block. Jees - this band must be good I thought, judging from the number of people in line. I had no idea who the Aerosmiths were.

It's showtime! So here I was walking into a crowd my age and younger, only they have a better grasp of the music I was about to hear. It was deafening and head-scratchingly painful to my ears. Ugh! That reverberating sound from the acoustic guitar. This was not the rock music I expected. There's too much of heavy instrumentation and the musicians were belting out songs with incomprehensible lyrics. Definitely metallic!

On top of that I was surrounded by concert goers who were stoned. Some had that blank stare and others had their arms raised to the skies, but they all seemed harmless. They didn’t scare me, I just felt unwelcomed. I was hoping the music will grow on me. I decided to stay and gave it a chance but it failed to bloom. I started to get a headache instead so I left before the concert ended. I’m sure they were the great band that they were supposed to be but they didn’t do anything for me.

Nothing against you Aerosmith, but you are not for me. If that was heavy metal, no thanks, I’ll just stick to chemistry and my groovy (ha, ha) music. I can live with The Ventures and to some extent maybe The Rolling Stones. Different strokes for different folks, I guess, for sure I'll never be a convert.

It was an odd experience, but one I learned something from. Curiosity did not kill me!

And the wall came tumbling down

Today marks the 2oth anniversary of an event that changed the world. Ronald Reagan in his speech of June 12, 1987 challenged Mikhail Gorbachev to "Tear down this wall" - four little words termed as "unpresidential" that will later become the phrase he will be most remembered for. Two years later, the walls came down.

To celebrate the anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, people crowded around individually painted dominoes along the former route of the wall. Some 1,000 giant dominoes, many of them decorated by schoolchildren, were toppled during the celebration.

The Berlin Wall, 20 years gone.

This Is It

Many names come to mind when it comes to the best musical career such as The Beatles and Elvis Presley. And then there is Michael Jackson. The name tells us a lot. “Thriller”, “Beat It”, “Billie Jean" were smash hits and household songs. We crank up the volume on those irresistible beats and we can’t help but to dance to them.

I’m never really a big fan of MJ but I do love some of his songs most especially those from his Jackson Five years. I must also admit that I watched this documentary “This Is It” out of curiosity. The posthumous release of these clips from the rehearsals of his supposedly final concert painted a different picture of MJ for me.

It was disturbing that we rush to judgment based on the warped images portrayed of Michael by the media. The conflict in his life hasn’t exactly prompted kind remarks from a lot of his audience and listeners and that is unfortunate. This is a very powerful film. If he was in pain, he never showed it. He possessed a pretty rare talent which I never appreciated much until now. His mastery of music and dance is unparalleled. Energy and versatility that’s what he is all about.

At 50 it didn’t appear that he had slowed down. When performers like him are slowly becoming a dying breed, when rock singers of late can’t act or sing to save their lives, we long for the great talent of MJ. We turn to the songs we remember him for.

His great footwork, his voice, his humility, the whole package contained in a short film. Not to mention the state-of-the-art technology behind the production and the selection of talented dancers and singers from all over the world. He was hands on all the time, it was his music, his dance and his stage. The final stage.

Don’t take my word for it, "This Is It" is phenomenal. Go see it.
A tribute fit for a king - the king of pop.