Dispatches from DC #12

07 September 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Extended Posting Alert - Italian Vacation Edition

Photo Update Alert: www.picasaweb.google.com/rodger.french

"Italia 2011" and "Italia 2011 2"

As some of you may be aware, Anne and I recently returned from a two-week vacation in Italy, specifically the real estate around Lago Maggiore, including the towns of Intra, Pallanza, and Verbania as well as the villages of Cavandone and Vignone. Check out the basic geography, if you like (www.lagomaggioreonline.it/cartine_lago_maggiore.htm). In the summer, the area is a mecca for tourists, mostly Italian (Milanesi), English, German, and Swiss. It is exactly what you'd expect: unreasonably beautiful scenery replete with indigenous shoppes, restaurants, cafés, and geletarias. In a word, classic.

Those two weeks, fraught with activity, passed by so quickly that the experience has acquired a dreamlike patina, making it somewhat difficult to write about. (Like, just what the world needs: another fulsome Italian travelogue, am I right?) So I've elected to organize my scribbling into three categories, offer some possibly apropos facts/impressions, and hopefully not bore the hell out of anyone. Andiamo.

I. Food & Friends - Northern Italian cuisine is basic, simple food prepared from really fresh ingredients. We dined primarily at the home of our dear friends and hosts Gino, Lisa, and Edoardo (one of the "boychiks" chronicled in DfDC #11) in Vignone, with several outings to Cavandone to the home of and restaurant run by Claudio and Patrizia. (Their son Claudio, an enthusiastic neophyte juggler, being the other "boychik.")

We also ate at the home of Renato, Gabriella, and Arianna, had pizza with "Mingus" and Letezia, lunched with Gigi and his friends, supped with Gino's sister Anna and her friends, chowed down at the La Palma hotel in Stressa, took in a "pig festival," eccetera, eccetera. The expected food coma failed to materialize, but summer fare is lighter after all. We had wine with everything (the only time I drink wine in measurable quantities is when I'm in Italy), and Mirto, an exotic liquore from Sardinia, a bottle of which came home with me. And espresso, naturalmente.

[Bad News: There is now a McDonald's in Intra. Merda. That's the only fast food franchise I spotted in the area, but dang... Good news: The tradition of a two-hour-plus break for lunch (pranzo) is still going strong.]

II. Music - I brought my eccellente Italian accordion, massive flight case and all, and had several opportunities to play.

- Recorded tracks for six songs for Gino's next album (hopefully completed by Christmas) in his studio/wine cellar, affectionately known as "The Cave." (www.ginosansonne.com)

- Sat in with Trio Elétrico (Renato, Fabio, and Carlo), an absolutely terrific jazz group; talk about the deep end of the pool. The venue was the rooftop bar of the La Palma Hotel, overlooking Lago Maggiore. It was a perfectly cinematic evening, with clear skies, a lovely breeze, and Isola Bella lit up like a psychedelic wedding cake. Magical. I'm also pleased to report that A.J., who never lies, reported I held my own as a jazz accordionist. Cool. Renato (www.renatopompilio.com) is one of the two best musicians I have ever worked with; the other being jazz pianist Eric Byrd (www.ericbyrd.com).

- Played at a festa in Cavandone that also featured Gino and Dr. Wim, a German dentist turned jazz cat (www.drwimsjazzaffair.de); spent my 64th birthday somewhere up in the Italian Alps fielding requests from some very hospitable folks; friends of someone, I'm sure.

- Took in a performance of Eduardo (aka "Dado") and his band Sformat, a four-piece (guitar, bass, drums, vocals) Rock & Roll outfit. Dado, who is a great-looking young guy and future chick magnet, sings very well and has good stage presence. The band, which includes a woman drummer, has lots of energy, is appropriately loud, and does a quite credible job playing mostly classic American songs. (Jimi Hendrix lyrics sung phonetically are especially entertaining.) I enjoyed them very much.

III. Tourist Notes - Lago Maggiore is ridiculously spectacular and the ferry is the most convenient way to access major tourist attractions. Among our points of disembarkation:

- Giardini Botanici Villa Taranto (www.villataranto.it/eng/default.asp): These botanical gardens were established by a Scotsman who bought an existing villa and its neighboring estates and substantially rearranged the landscape. The gardens are a great place to spend an afternoon, particularly if it is unseasonably hot. I especially liked the dahlias.

- Isola Bella (www.borromeoturismo.it): The Borromeo family was/is rich and influential; e.g., one of them married into the Medicis and another became an actual saint. Naturally, they own several islands in Lago Maggiore. Isola Bella is the sight of a 17th century palace and gardens built with splendor uppermost in mind. It is sumptuous, it is fanciful, it is completely over the top. And Napoleon stayed there.

- Isola Madre (www.borromeoturismo.it): Larger and more tranquil than Isola Bella, Isola Madre is perfect for strolling, taking in the greenery, and getting hit up by the peacocks and other exotic fowls. A lovely place.

- Stresa (www.stresa.com): Located on the Gulf of Borromeo (This family even has its own gulf? Classic.), Stresa is chock full of hotels, grande and otherwise, catering to throngs of summer turisti. The town centro is small, easily navigable, and a great place to shop; although between 12h30 and 15h00, not so much. So just do lunch.

There's a boatload more to report, of course, but I don't want overdo it, since you've been kind enough to read this far. Anne and I are fully aware of and appreciate our buona fortuna in having such wonderful friends in a place so worth visiting. If you have been to Italy, you understand. If you haven't, and if at all possible, spend the money and go.

[Bonus Tourist Tip - Unless you have no alternative, avoid JFK International Airport in New York City like the plague. Absurd layout, heinous connections, and waiting for takeoff is like being in line at the DMV.]

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #11

02 July 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Extended Posting Alert

It's been an exciting week, as we had the great pleasure of hosting not one, but two Italian teenagers (aka "boychiks"), the sons of friends in northern Italy whom we are fortunate enough to visit every so often. (Our next trip is scheduled for the last two weeks of Agosto.) Naturally, we were delighted to have the boyz stay with us and, I think it fair to say, we made the most of their visit.

Several days were consumed burning up the road from DC to Baltimore (and back) in order to attend ROOTS Fest 2011, the 35th anniversary celebration of Alternate ROOTS (www.alternateroots.org). I had official bidness as musical director for one event and the three of us participated in other activities, so it was a very busy time. I'm pleased to report that the Fest was a great success and we were all covered, nay, drenched in glory.

Downside? The. Heinous. Commute. Getting out of DC was (is) so fraught with obstacles and delays that we took to placing bets on where the inevitable daily clusterf**k would occur. Driving home from Baltimore late at night was less stressful, fueled as it was by the music of Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band played at a robust volume. (Riposa In Pace, Clarence Clemmons and Danny Federici.)

We did manage to spend one full day taking in some sights in Washington, DC: The National Building Museum (including a LEGO® Architecture Exhibition), the National Mall (including massive reconstruction of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool), and, the tour's crown jewel, Ben's Chili Bowl (including having our table bussed by Virginia, Ben's widow and family matriarch). Suitably touristed, the ladz were now ready for the Big Time: New York City.

[We had secured lodgings with our super-accommodating friends in Weehawken, NJ, 1/2 block from "The View," the world-famous-super-awesome panorama of the Hudson River and Manhattan. This being the boyz' first visit to NYC, we had a lot to work in. Pronto?]

Primo Giorno

- Arrived via Bolt Bus (I dislike buses, but the train was considerably more expensive); lunch at Ben's Delicatessen (37th St. & 7th Ave.), where your goyim correspondent endeavored to properly introduce clueless Italian boychiks to the wonders of deli and Yiddish; a mitsve, in my opinion.

- Taxi to Museum of Modern Art (MoMA, 53rd St. & 6th Ave.), the one place they specifically wanted to see. That's pretty cool.

- Strolled downtown past Rockefeller Plaza, through Times Square. [Tourist Tip #Uno: Monday is an excellent day for this. Theatres are dark and the number of tourists significantly diminished.] Dinner at the (funky as usual) Westway Diner (44th St. & 9th Ave.).

- Caught a (funkier than usual) jitney on 42nd St.; traversed the Lincoln Tunnel to Boulevard East, "The View" (the boyz were suitably impressed), and our lodgings in scenic Weehawken. Later, gelato più eccellente with our hosts at La Cremas (Park Ave. & 43rd St. in Union City, NJ)

Secondo Giorno

- Up and off via jitney and Subway to meet eight other Italian friends at the Silver Moon Bakery (105th St. & Broadway) for breakfast. Whereupon your ever-amenable tour guide picked up two more Italian teenagers for the day.

- Subway to 42nd St. and walked west to Pier 83, home of "The Beast," a Circle Line sightseeing speedboat (top speed: 45 mph): Part tour, part thrill ride, and very fun. I even have a souvenir photo.

- Subway to Chelsea Market (15th St. & 9th Ave.), where we were to rendezvous with the rest of the Italian cohort. Buona fortuna with that. Finally caught up with them at Dos Caminos (14th St. & Hudson St.) where they chowed down on Mexican. (Since we had dinner plans in, like, two hours, I ordered a nice jicama salad.) [Tourist Tip #Due: Teenage boyz are like sharks: If they don't eat more or less constantly, they will die. Luckily, in NYC, nessun problema; I recommend street vendor hot dogs every thirty minutes.]

- Bade arrivederci to the group (off to see "Mamma Mia"), walked to 23rd St., and caught the Subway uptown for dinner with our host famiglia at Queen of Sheba Ethiopian Restaurant (46th St. & 10th Ave.). Outstanding food and another exotic culinary experience for the boychiks. To their credit, they went for it, although the spicier food (which I love) was a bit much for their palates.

- In lieu of catching the jitney home, our hosts drove us downtown to take a look at the ongoing construction at the World Trade Center site. I hadn't been there since 1991, so it was a somewhat intense and interesting experience. The "Freedom Tower" is rising and the 9/11 Memorial is due to be dedicated on 09/11/11.

- Home to Weehawken, "The View," and an encore visit to La Cremas. [Tourist Tip #Tre: Order the "Purple Corn" gelato. It is sublime.]

Terzo Giorno

- Breakfast and goodbyes, then a jitney to 42nd St. Our bus was leaving from 33rd St. & 7th Ave., so we decided to walk, with frequent stops, but of course, for snacks and quality souvenir purchases. Made the bus on time, bid a fond "Ciao" to NYC, and arrived at Union Station in DC in good order. Then it was home via Metro.

Back at the ranch, the boychiks finished packing their stuff, and, after a light dinner and more goodbyes, I took them to National Airport where they caught a flight back to the (by-comparison-now-very-boring) ATL, where they'll stay until they head back to Italia. It was a great visit. They are very considerate and entertaining young men and it'll be good to see them and their families again.

But for now, I intend to lay low this July 4th weekend and recover. After all, a boychik's got to know his limitations.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #10

19 May 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Life in the "Capital of The Free World" (by it's own admission) has settled in to a not disagreeable routine. Since meaningful employment remains, shall we say, elusive, I spend my time shopping, cooking, and generally being A.J.'s wingman. And I also have the opportunity to put in the practice/study time it takes to become a better musician. This is an unexpected and most salutary gift.

In addition to working diligently on my virtually non-existent jazz piano chops, I'm playing regularly with my pal Sol Stein, a terrific concertina player. I have also fallen in with The Washington Balalaika Society Orchestra (WBSO), an avocational ensemble that performs all manner of Russian music. (www.balalaika.org) The Artistic Director is quite the formidable musician, having studied at the Rimsky-Korsakov Conservatory in St. Petersburg.

In addition to conducting, she also arranges compositions for the group and, since she is married to an accomplished bayan player (the bayan being the Russian cousin of the accordion), the parts I am called upon to play are often very demanding. This is a good thing; at this point in my musical life, a hearty shot of intense focus and discipline is just what I need.

I have also agreed with Ruuskie Musikanti, a small-group offshoot of the WBSO, to sub for their accordionist when he is unavailable, which means yet more music to learn, albeit in a much more relaxed fashion. All the folks in the group are very nice and the performances enjoyable.

We performed yesterday for "Happenings at the Harman," a series of lunchtime programs sponsored by the Shakespeare Theatre Company. I felt a bit under-rehearsed on a couple of selections, but the audience was very nice and the gig went well. And then, as we finished and were preparing to pack up, a most extraordinary thing happened.

[Sidebar: Some accordion players play loudly and without much taste. Some succumb to the temptation to play "con formaggio molto," a little of which goes a long way. (I myself am not immune to the charms of the cheesy.) But having played the accordion since the age of six, I am painfully aware that the generally low regard in which the instrument has long been held in this country - an unreasonable prejudice that seems, thankfully, to be rapidly dissipating - is due in some part to annoyingly oblivious accordion players.]

[Quote: "There are more bad musicians than there is bad music." Issac Stern]

Anyway... after the gig, I was approached by an older gentleman speaking a language literally foreign to me - Russian, perhaps. Notwithstanding my ignorance, he was most insistent on making his point and once I ceased trying to "understand" what he was saying and started really paying attention and listening to his words as music, I understood clearly. (I feel a bit sheepish relaying this, but it was such a profound experience...)

Obviously moved, he conveyed to me his appreciation for my playing the accordion with feeling. And then he reached out and put his hand on my heart. It was a humbling moment. It was the highest accolade any musician could ever hope to receive.

It was what we live for.

[Quote: "When you perform, remember that some of your audience may be hearing this music for the first time, and some for the last." Robert Shaw]

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #09

08 March 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

Washington, DC (well... Arlington, VA) is a fine place to live for a couple of years. In addition to having groceries, restaurants, and all manner of other services within easy walking distance, we even get Al Jazeera English on the TV, so it's possible to obtain actual comprehensive international news 24/7. Knowing what's going on outside the good old U.S. of A. seems increasingly important these days.

Anne and I are still quite keen to go forward to our next assignment in September 2012; with any luck, we'll decamp before the 06 November election and subsequent (and eagerly anticipated) Apocalypse predicted for 21 December. (Not to cast a pall on anyone's End Times festivities, but isn't it possible that the Mayan calendar ended just to start all over again? Or maybe they ran out of special calendar stones to carve it on? I'm just askin'.)

In any case, we continue to make the most of our stay here, which often entails hopping aboard the socialistic Metro system and taking in one of the many wonderful socialistic (and consequently) free museums. Last Saturday, we visited the Smithsonian American Art Museum and the National Portrait Gallery, which are contiguous and located not far from what's left of Chinatown. Naturally, we meandered through the "Hall of Presidents," a suitably impressive display. I especially admired the painting of President Andrew Jackson, which may be the most flattering portrait of a war criminal ever commissioned.

Then came something totally unexpected.

As many of you know, I am not a religious person, having long ago escaped the clutches of Baptist fundamentalism, and generally regard organized religions as cults that have simply gotten out of hand. But what the heck; "to each their own," "do to others what you would have them do to you," and "laissez la fin des temps rouler." Heathen though I may be, I do nonetheless fervently appreciate that religion has been most beneficent to our tragically failing species when it comes to music and the arts.

I was reminded of this when, whilst perusing the "Folk Art" exhibition, I happened upon "The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations' Millennium General Assembly" by James Hampton. For a comprehensive description and image, here's the link. You should check it out:

http://americanart.si.edu/collections/search/artwork/?id=9897

Mr. Hampton, a janitor and the self-titled "Director, Special Projects for the State of Eternity," created, in a rented garage, religious art of the highest order and I am earnestly grateful to have come across it. For me, it's a visual equivalent of the music of Marion Williams, the great Gospel singer; majestic and fearless, abundant with faith and power. If Jesus ever does need an earthly place to perch, he couldn't do better than Mr. Hampton's throne.

Duly moved, we spent the rest of the afternoon wandering about the 'hood, peeking into shoppes, and enjoying a Chinese lunch in a funky little place where most of the diners were apparently Chinese. It was a nice trip into the nation's capital (Official motto: "Taxation Without Representation") and we'll be visiting again soon. I urge you to do so as well, especially if you're an American taxpayer. After all, you deserve your socialist money's worth.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #08

14 February 2011

Hello there... Rodger French here.

In case you are curious as to why you haven't received a posting recently, there is a trés simple explanation: I've had nothing - bupkis, zilch, nada, - of any real interest to report. I have, however, just returned from two weeks on the road on a package tour, of sorts; that is, a confluence of three major events, each of which provided reasonable justification for braving America's decaying Interstate system and the rapacious VA State Police. In aggregate, these affairs occasioned a perfect storm for even the most experienced road warrior.

Event #1 - The Groundhog Day Jugglers Festival

The 33rd Annual, to be specific; and since I can legitimately take credit for founding the Atlanta Jugglers Association and initiating this festival (with many collaborators, of course), I like to attend whenever I'm in country. This year, 168 registered jugglers and hundreds more onlookers gathered in the auditorium of the Yaarab Shrine Temple in the ATL for a weekend of big fun. It's a wonderful event that really hasn't changed much over the years, and that includes my role as MC for the competition.

I also served as bandleader for the Late Night Cabaret, which meant, glamour aside, being called upon to do some massive schlepping of the sound system and other musical paraphernalia/accoutrement. Which was OK; that's just part of the deal. All in all, it was great to play around, reconnect with olde chums, and meet some of the (as Ed Sullivan would say) "youngsters" who already have mad skillz. (http://www.atlantajugglers.org)

Event #2 - One Night Only: Lenny & LaBanana & Friends

The two rehearsals we managed to shoehorn into a busy week were not in vain: It was a classic concert. Everyone sounded great, and, as musical director, I'm please to report that The DeLuxe Vaudeville Orchestra unequivocally brought its "A" game. The folks at the Lawrenceville Road United Methodist Church (http://www.lrumc.com) were most hospitable and the crowd was large and enthusiastic. To those of you who attended this memorable event, my sincerest thanks.

The ostensible reason for all this show bidness brouhaha/bonhomie was, as you may have heard, the departure of LaBanana, my dear friend and long-time Vaudeville partner, for sunnier climes. Segue to...

Event #3 - LaBanana Moves to Florida

A.J. and I have moved four times in the last five years, but that only partially prepared me for a relocation that may immodestly be described as "the end of an era." LaBanana has been a fixture in Atlanta for decades and has accumulated innumerable friends, associates, and colleagues. She has also managed to obtain and hold onto an extraordinary amount of "stuff." Staying at her house during the pack-out was like living inside an exploding clown closet. Amazing.

But with the able assistance of many friends, especially Captain Black (from Cat Island in the Bahamas; home, incidentally, of the "Rake & Scrape Festival"), and four very nice Mexican movers, she managed to fill up two (2) large trucks and send them on their way. I am pleased to report that LaBanana made it safely to Orlando and is reunited with her parents and all her things. Happy landings, indeed.

I, on the other hand, headed north to check in on my place near Hot Springs, NC (which reminds me a bit of Cicely, AK in "Northern Exposure") and work out some home improvement details with my local contractor friends. Then, back to Arlington, to contemplate life, music, and etc. until our next move in 2012.

(Sigh.) And I've got way too much stuff.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #07

24 December 2010

Hello there... Rodger French here.

This is our first Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Winter Solstice/Cold & Flu Season in the U-S-A since 2005 and so far, so good. Anne and I are planning on a modest celebration this year; seeing a few friends, taking in a flick, and assiduously avoiding things what generate seasonal stress: Shopping malls, airports, interstate highways, and FOX News. "War on Christmas," my tuchus.

It's pretty quiet here in northern VA, not least because the Congressional clown car has left town. There was that lunar eclipse on the Solstice, but since A.J. and I were fortunate enough to catch one of these events from our front stoop in Ghana, we took a pass on getting up at some ungodly hour in the butt-freezing cold. But our recent trip to New York City was a great success, consisting as it did of visiting dear friends as well as exhaustive walking interspersed with outstanding dining experiences. (Culinary highlights included Chinese and delicatessen in Midtown and Cuban in Union City, NJ.)

If you have never visited NYC at the height of the Holidaze, you really should. The place is gay (and festive), grand, and trés pittoresque, especially the outdoor markets. Unless, of course, you have an aversion to throngs of excited, skylarking touristes... standing in endless lines... for the opportunity of renting ice skates and falling on their derriéres. But then, we are all free to celebrate the season as we wish, especially when it comes to fulfilling the fundamental and compelling human need to transact commerce.

In Times Square, that motivation has been translated into a display that is corporately, spectacularly, even transcendently bonkers. Standing at the junction of Broadway and Seventh Avenue is like being sucked into a garish video game, the concept of which is to cram as much "visual noise" as possible into an unrealistically small space while drinking an LSD/meth smoothie. It's bizarrely entertaining, to be sure; but, having first discovered New York City in the early1970s, I kinda miss the low-tech seediness of yore.

Rather than wallow in tacky nostalgia, however, I'll just take this opportunity to wish each and every one of my faithful and supportive readers (and you both know who you are) the most excellent of seasons, whichever holiday miracle, myth, sidereal event, or sports competition you choose to observe in whatever manner, sacred or secular, you may deem appropriate. For my part, I say celebrate them all. It couldn't hurt.

And may the New Year bring you, if not what you want, at least what you need.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #06

08 December 2010

Hello there... Rodger French here.

I'm not much for pilgrimages, although I do appreciate the human need for ritual and value the paying of respect to those actually worthy of it. So, I am in New York City on the 30th anniversary of the murder of John Lennon and this very afternoon made the journey uptown and on foot to "Strawberry Fields," 2.5 acres of landscaping located at 72nd Street and Central Park West. When I arrived the place was already packed with fans, tourists, cops, and TV satellite trucks. I didn't stay long; it was wicked crowded, butt-freezing cold, and I had to pee. Desperately. In other words, a typical winter day in NYC.

Loathe I am to revisit previous postings; but after careful consideration, I have concluded that what I wrote for the 25th anniversary is still, from my personal point of view, right on the mark. So, for what it's worth, here it is, with minor revisions. And great respect.

Originally Posted: December 8, 2005

"John Lennon is an important figure to me. He was a great musician, something I strive to be. He was also fearless about living his own life, for better and worse, and usually in the public eye. Finally, he was clever and a smart-ass. I liked that.

Zillions of people have written exhaustively about Lennon, The Beatles, and the ways in which they changed the landscape of popular music. But music is a visceral thing, especially for a teenager, and I have my own distinct memories of hearing The Beatles early on. The first occasion was on a broadcast of 'The Jack Paar Show.' That film clip constituted, as I recall, their initial appearance on American TV, and they sang 'From Me to You' (still one of my faves). And then... 'She Loves You' hit the airwaves (WAKY-AM in Louisville, KY), reached right out through the radio and took my breath away. Still does.

But it was with the release of 'Rubber Soul' that I really started to pay close attention to Lennon's writing, particularly 'In My Life.' I was very impressed that a Rock & Roll star in his mid-20s would write such a serious, reflective song. It was about this time that I started to regard John Lennon as something of a surrogate older brother (I'm the eldest of three boys), a person I could look to for a certain amount of guidance in how - and how not - to approach life.

So I came of age to, among many interesting things, Lennon's music. It accompanied me through high school, college, the Navy, marriage, divorce, and experimentations with altered states of awareness. And while I never consciously emulated John's life, I did take great comfort in knowing he was out there - somewhere - and I always wished him the best. Especially when he came out in opposition to the war in Vietnam, was hounded by the FBI, and ended up on Nixon's 'Enemies List,' a badge of honor in my estimation. When he finally got his Green Card and was able to set up permanent legal residence in New York City, I was glad for him and Yoko.

Then he went away for five years and, well, that was cool because I was pretty sure he needed a break. But in the autumn of 1980, I heard 'Starting Over' on my car radio and realized that John Lennon was back... and he sounded damned good. 'Double Fantasy' was a great comeback album and I was happy that Lennon's music was going to be part of my life's soundtrack once again. Besides, I figured we needed all the help we could get, what with the election of Ronald Reagan and the rise of the Talibangelicals.

And then John Lennon was gone.

Not Eddie Cochran gone, not Jimi Hendrix gone, not even Elvis Presley gone. Accidents, drug overdoses, bad lifestyles... in the world of Rock & Roll, those kinds of deaths are at least comprehensible. But John Lennon was stalked and gunned down in cold blood, in front of his own home, by some creep to whom he had given an autograph that very day. At the age of 40, one of the best and most important musicians of my time was taken away for no goddamned good reason. I will never get entirely over it - and will bloody likely never forgive his assassin.

Never... because he ended the life of someone who still had great music to make. Never... because he silenced a voice for peace in a world of pain. Never... because he took John Lennon away - from his family, his future, and his chance to grow old. And, selfish though it may be, I was looking forward to that, because Lennon would have been a great old man: someone worth watching, listening to, and learning from. His death is a profound loss.

I miss John Lennon. But, life goes on and I'm sure he wouldn't want us to wallow about in maudlin nostalgia, thank you very much. Besides, we still have the music. So here is a personal and eminently transitory playlist to celebrate the life of an extraordinarily creative and remarkable guy. My Top 10 for today, December 8... for all of us living on borrowed time:"

In My Life

Nowhere Man

Tomorrow Never Knows

Strawberry Fields Forever

I Am the Walrus

Across the Universe

Instant Karma

Working Class Hero

#9 Dream

Watching the Wheels

[Sidebar - I will always be grateful to Howard Cosell for the way he broke the news of John Lennon's assassination to me and millions of other football fans on Monday night, December 8, 1980. The most sensitive and graceful remarks ever delivered by a sports commentator. Ever.]

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #05

14 November 2010

Hello there... Rodger French here.

One of the things I miss most about Pretoria is the weather, which, as previously noted, is darn near perfect all the time. The same cannot be said, unfortunately, for the Washington, DC area. Since the entire enterprise was built on a swamp, so the summer climate here ranges from simply awful to God-awful. Winters are more of a crapshoot. Last year saw record snowfalls, but a winter without a single snowflake is just a likely.

To be fair, however, there are brief passages in the spring and autumn when the Washington skies are blue, the winds moderate, and the temperature ideal. Such has been the case for the past few days, and there is simply no excuse for not taking a nice, long walk to check out the fall foliage and a few of the ubiquitous memorials.

Emerging from the Metro Smithsonian Station, A.J. and I decided to stroll around the Tidal Basin, a man-made reservoir lined with Japanese cherry trees and featuring the Thomas Jefferson Memorial (dedicated in 1943), a neoclassical construction and one of my personal favourites. Simple and elegant in design, Jefferson's words are carved large in the walls, words that seem temporarily out of favour, words like "enlightened," "progress," and "justice." It is a beautiful place.

Continuing around the water, we came upon the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial (1997), which was new to both of us. Constructed of blocks of red granite and featuring a series of open-air "rooms" and much moving water, the atmosphere seems more contemplative than other such places (except, I think, for the Vietnam Veterans Memorial (1982) - "The Wall" - which is much more personal). On this day, the contrast between the stone and the color of autumn leaves enhanced the quietude of the experience. If you should come here, go to this place.

There is always construction in the National Mall area and we walked passed the expansive site of the Martin Luther King, Jr. National Memorial, due to open in 2011. From there, we made our way to the National World War II Memorial (2004), located on the Mall's central axis running from the Abraham Lincoln Memorial (1922) to the west to the George Washington Monument (1884) to the east. Comprised of a huge plaza and fountain surrounded by stone pillars, this is memorial architecture most conventional. Which is fine, of course: Big war, big memorial.

So that was our day. Unfortunately, we missed out on the Korean War Veterans Memorial (1995), which, I have been told, is particularly striking at night. No worries, as we will no doubt be making more of these trips between now and two autumns hence in 2012. And for all the snarky things I have to say about America's capital (which happen to be true, by the way), there is much here of great worth and much of it is absolutely free. If you have never been, you should come; after all, you paid for it.

But try to avoid the summer.

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #04

07 November 2010

Hello there... Rodger French here.

It's been an interesting time here in the self-proclaimed "Capital of the Free World." As you may have heard, America had an election last week and, once again, voters (or at least the ones who bothered to get off their asses) gave the Republican Party a clear mandate, not to be confused with the clear mandate they gave the Democratic Party two years ago, never mind the (classic) Supreme Court one-vote mandate of 2000. Mandates seem to occur like periodic herpes outbreaks in this great land of ours.

But, as a proud, card-carrying Liberal, I thought it best to make a positive contribution to the process; so, in addition to voting, I spent 15 hours with some fellow citizens working the polls at my local precinct. It was a long day, to be sure, but I actually enjoyed assisting folks in the exercise of their franchise and only wish more people had showed up. The percentage of eligible, possibly informed American voters who actually turn out is downright pathetic.

As is the tsunami of post-election analysis now engulfing us at every turn. CW (Convention Wisdom) trumps all in medialand, with results construed, often at the expense of, you know, reality, to fit narratives carefully constructed by millionaire pundits and radio/TV personalities at the behest of their corporate overlords. So, in the interest of brevity, please permit me to offer my own pithy political prognostication for the next two years:

Republicans - Insane

Democrats - Spineless

Outlook - Totally F@#ked

In other news, we are still awaiting the release of our HHE (Household Effects) shipment from South Africa that is currently being held hostage in Baltimore. Ah, but won't that be a rapturous day. Anne continues to successfully settle into the realities of working at the U.S. State Department in the actual U.S., and I've begun taking my spiffy new bike out and about, just in time for the annual winter BFC (Butt Freezing Cold) cycling season. So, life goes on, mandates and all.

[Bonus Signage from "The Rally to Restore Sanity and or Fear" -

"The guy behind me can't see"

"Free Lohan"

"Don't Tread on Snakes"

"What America needs... oh look, a puppy"]

Onward.

Rodger

Dispatches from DC #03

31 October 2010

Hello there... Rodger French here.

And Happy Halloween to you all. Anne and I plan to celebrate this year by engaging in some unbridled hedonism, to wit, breaking out the candy corn, tuning in game 4 of the World Series, and enthusiastically rooting for the San Francisco Giants. Not that the Rangers aren't a fun team to watch, but pull for a team - any team - from Texas? I don't think so. Anyway, we need a little quality couch time after yesterday.

We attended the "Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear" on the National Mall, and it was ginormous. The National Park Service, which typically lowballs crowd numbers, put attendance at 200,000+, meaning that probably 250,000+ people showed up. The Metro system was completely swamped; it took us two hours to make a trip that normally takes twenty minutes. And, like the vast majority of participants, we got nowhere near the stage.

But the crowd, mostly young and white, was very civilized, and apart from some misguided youths climbing trees and even buildings (so I hear) and clambering on top of the portable toilets (which is very disconcerting if you're trying to pee) in order to get a better view, the proceedings proceeded quite sanely. Which was, of course, the point.

For those of us who missed out on the official program, entertainment value was provided by the signage people brought with them. Ever the diligent correspondent, I scribbled down a few possibly interesting examples and would like to pass them on to you, complete with helpful contextual headings.

Spiritual: "God Hates Figs - Mark 11: 12-14"

Sensual: "Watching Christine O'Donnell makes me want to touch myself."

Reasonable: "We may disagree, but I will not stomp on your head."

Economical: "Gay Mexican Nazis are raising my taxes."

Practical: "I don't mind paying taxes because roads don't pave themselves."

Cultural: "Stop Justin Bieber"

Gustatory: "Tea Party? Make mine an Iced Chai Latte."

Classical: "What's so funny about Peace, Love and Understanding?"

A.J. Favourite: "Librarians for Informed Opinion"

All in all, the Rally proved to be a fine way to spend a beautiful autumn afternoon. That evening, against long, crowded odds, a number of dear friends made their way to our flat, where we engaged in scintillating conversation whilst ingesting copious quantities of quality snackage - a fine housewarming party and perfect way to conclude the day.

[Civic Responsibility Reminder: Tuesday, November 2 is Election Day. In addition to voting, I will be a poll worker at my local precinct. If you are a registered voter and are ambivalent about participating, I encourage you to be a conscientious citizen and get your sorry ass to the polls. And no "they're all the same" bullshit excuses. Somebody's going to get elected and the lesser of two evils is still less evil. One more thing: If you don't vote, don't bitch. Thank you very much.]

Onward.

Rodger