pt at large

Meaningful Matters: Reflections on Joy, Loss and Our Changing World by Jeff Kelly Lowenstein

I've known Jeff Kelly Lowenstein since he was an energetic kid my fourth grade class in 1974. We’ve been carrying on conversations ever since. Jeff wrote about our connection, including his two year stint co-teaching with me, now going on 42 years, in his first book,"On My Teacher's Shoulders" which was launched in November, 2012. I can't wait to be in the audience for this one.

His bio (below) at Columbia College in Chicago contains the basics. If it included his world-wide network of journalists, forums which he has launched or been part of, awards for deep investigative reporting, it would be several pages long. The invitation to the book launch reads....

Join Us For Jeff Kelly Lowenstein's Launch Event
28th * April  * 2016

33 E. Congress Parkway, Columbia College Chicago

Meaningful Matters: Reflections on Joy, Loss and Our Changing World


When
6:00PM - 8:00PM
April 28, 2016

Where
Columbia College Chicago-Public Narrative
33 E. Congress Parkway-Room 610H
Chicago, IL 60605

Hello Friends and Family!
I am so excited to share the launch of my new book, Meaningful Matters: Reflections on Joy, Loss and Our Changing World, with all of you. To help celebrate this moment, Dunreith and I, along with the help of Public Narrative, will be hosting a book launch event at Columbia College Chicago on April 28th. We hope to see you there! Be sure to RSVP! And as always, thank you for you continued support.
Jeff

To RSVP:
https://www.eventbrite.com/e/celebrate-jeff-dunreith-kelly-lowenstein-and-jeffs-new-book-tickets-24662377836

To Check Out Meaningful Matters:
http://amzn.to/1NjS3Bw

Jeff at a glance: M.S.J., Medill, Northwestern University; M.Ed., Northeastern University; Master's Certificate, Harvard University; B.A., History, Stanford University. Former database and investigative reporter, Hoy newspaper. Former staff reporter for The Chicago Reporter and South Shore Community News, and immediate past president of the Ochberg Society for Trauma Journalism. Freelance writer whose work has been published by The New Yorker and the Chicago Tribune. Fulbright Scholar, 2013, Fulbright Teacher, 1995. Author of two books. Received awards from Investigative Reporters and Editors, Society for News Design, National Association of Black Journalists and Chicago Headline Club. (Not noted: an informal Post-Graduate degree in Fourth Grade for co-teaching with Paul Tamburello 1987-1989 after graduating from Stanford University, Magna Cum Laude).

Prince: Watertown TAB April 29, 2016

Commentary paired with Dave Granlund illustration in Watertown TAB April 29, 2016

Prince: RIP in an eternal Purple Haze

 

Published in Watertown TAB April 29, 2016

Prince Rogers Nelson (June 7, 1958 – April 21, 2016)
RIP in an eternal Purple Haze

Some listeners lost their virginity listening to Prince. I lost my hearing.

The Internet is jammed with eloquent hosannas praising the artist, dead at 57 years old.
 
His sixth album, “Purple Rain,” is the reason I am hard of hearing today.

In my car, at full volume, I played the nine songs on that 1984 cassette over and over and over. It was a majestic ride from funk to R&B, pop, rock and a dash of heavy metal – I don’t think Prince ever got it any better. I cranked it so loud it occasionally made me dizzy.

A 250-watt amplifier powered the two ADS speakers mounted on the kick panels a few feet away. I wasn’t satisfied listening. I wanted to feel it ricochet through my bones. The whole Alfa Romeo GTV vibrated like a Boeing 737 MAX lumbering down the takeoff runway. I didn’t care that in the afterglow my ears would ring after the downpour of dazzling guitar licks and Prince's shimmering falsetto radiating sexually provocative lyrics. .

Tinnitus is the daily soundtrack for me today. You only lose your virginity once. It takes repetition and reckless abandon to lose your sense of hearing. Prince was my pied piper, his mesmerizing marching songs begged to be played at stadium audio levels. I still get a rush listening to Prince's "Purple Rain" album (earplugs firmly in place). I have a few regrets over the loss of my hearing. I have mighty regrets over the loss of Prince.

Fifty-seven is too young to die. In Prince’s case, out of the blue. Did he have any idea how much his music affected and influenced others? Or how much we admired him?

He can’t hear it now. But the people around you who make up your own constellation of friends, family, lovers, co-workers, they can hear. Say the words to them today that might be too late to say tomorrow.

+++++++++

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SFNW5F8K9Y

Prince, Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, Jeff Lynne and others perform "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" at the 2004 Hall of Fame Inductions. The video is about six minutes long. Tune in at the 2:40 mark to see how it's going before Prince takes over at the 3:25 mark.

http://www.rollingstone.com/music/pictures/super-bowl-halftime-shows-ranked-from-worst-to-best-20140128/4-prince-2007-0718626

Superbowl 2007 Prince sings "Purple Rain" in a rainstorm...and has the Miami stadium singing along with his epic anthem.

+++++++++++

Purple Rain, 1984
Side One
“Let’s Go Crazy”
“Take Me With You”
“The Beautiful Ones”
“Computer Blue”
“Darling Nikki”

Side Two
“When Doves Cry”
“I Would Die For You”
“Baby I’m A Star”
“Purple Rain”

Beverly Cleary Turns 100

April 11, 2016

Beverly Cleary turns 100 today. The Oregon housewife wrote some of the most popular children’s books of the twentieth century. Amazingly, the books still have standing…and popularity today.

For years, books like “Ramona The Pest” and “The Mouse and the Motorcycle” were a feature of my reading/writing program at the John Pierce School in Brookline. Cleary’s books were great read-aloud stories. The author had a canny sense of how to portray children navigating bumps that are part of the process of growing up.

I often chose “Ramona The Pest” as a first class read-aloud. From my point of view, the lively discussions and writing responses were a first step in establishing a bond, a shared experience, that shaped a class identity that fostered empathy, cooperation, teamwork and a positive work ethic .

My fourth graders, at nine years old, were old enough to be able to look at Ramona Quimby’s questions and actions in the rear view mirror. They were several years older than Ramona in her first few months of kindergarten, could feel quite a bit more grown up and empathize with her behavior. They really got it when Ramona was told on her first day of kindergarten to "sit here for the present" and she does, waiting for her present.

Cleary kept it simple but Ramona’s questions and dilemmas were universal and her character indelibly drawn. Cleary’s cast of characters usually involved Ramona’s older sister Beezus (Beatrice), her parents, especially her mother, and her friend Henry Huggins, but Ramona was the axis around which the stories were told.

Beverly Cleary captured a child’s universe with a charming economy of style and keen observation. Ramona was no angel. She had trouble paying attention sometimes, and once was sent home for gently pulling the hair of the girl sitting in front of her because it looked so much like a spring and out of curiosity she wanted to see if it worked like one.  My fourth graders chuckled when Ramona called herself a “kindergarten drop out”. And they reveled in their blooming maturity when Ramona talked about singing the "Dawnser song" in her first days of kindergarten, her interpretation of "The Star Spangled Banner.

I liked Beverly Cleary’s books because, in a non-preachy format, her books offered a platform to talk about values, character, and issues like sibling rivalry, being picked on, a father losing his job, unfairness in life... described by the author with a forthright but tender touch. Some of the discussions we had about what made Ramona tick resurfaced later in the year as we read other books or dealt with real life situations.

Peel back the personas of many teachers and you’ll find an entertainer… that certainly applied to me from 1974 to 2004. Sitting in the chair next to my cluttered desk, with twenty nine-year-olds sitting on the carpet in front of me, adopting voices for each character, pausing for effect in dramatic moments, using a little body English to embellish, making eye contact with my audience, I wanted the stories to come alive. If it involved theatrics, all the better. And I loved it.

Cleary published her first book, “Henry Huggins,” in 1950. Between 1955 and 1999 Ramona was featured in eight books and published in 20 different languages. The fact that she still has adoring fans, and still has a wry sense of humor, is remarkable. Her response to the question about the secret of living to be 100 sounds like it could have come from the mouth of Ramona Quimby.

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Photo of Cleary and fans by VERN FISHER/MONTEREY HERALD VIA AP/ FILE

Merle Haggard: An American Master, RIP

Merle Haggard died of pneumonia today, April 6, 2016, his 79th birthday. This reprint of a story from January 13, 2014 is a goodbye to a favorite musician.

++++++

There are more lines on Merle Haggard's face than in lifetime of songs he's written. That would include 38 Number One Country hits. The PBS documentary Merle Haggard: Learning To Live With Myself shows by turn a country charmer, a bad boy, each with a love me or leave me attitude. Once the man figured out what he wanted, he got it. More often than not, he's not all that comfortable about it.

The film focuses on two defining moments in the man's life. His short stay in San Quentin, "the joint," as he refers to it in song and conversation, and getting diagnosed with lung cancer in 2009. The American Masters movie that rides the rails of his life tells the story of a man who lost his rock of a father when he was a boy, broke his mother's heart when he got into scrapes with the law, rode the rails (really), lived life from boxcar to boxcar, and spent time in the penitentiary.

San Quentin woke him up but not before he tried butting heads with his jailors. The road he took to end up there damaged him in ways he's been coming to grips with since the day he walked out. He was paroled early because of his work ethic running the prison laundry. He was never more alone, or vulnerable, than he was in prison. He openly sings about the shame he felt for the messes he made and the people he hurt.

To my ears, his voice is better than it's ever  been -  a range from gravel to honey, with a sweet upper register that reveals the man inside the rough shell -  all of it from some deep place searching for the light of redemption or forgiveness.

To this day, he's most comfortable on the 10x12 foot space on his windowless tour bus. "It's the same size as my cell in San Quentin," he says. His ornery nature has softened with good fortune, a career that's made him rich, not comfortable, and allows him to live his life on his terms.

Haggard has always written his own material. He doesn't just sing the songs, he's lived them, felt them. They haunt him. You'd never find him in a therapist's office but the stage and studio are his shrink's couch, the place where he'll tell you what he's feeling. Haggard's songs aren't generic. He doesn't sing about pickup trucks, hound dogs, and the freedom of the road. He knows damn well life is more than that. He's a red state singer, thinks "we probably peaked in 1975," and is uncomfortable in an America with franchises on every block.

Being diagnosed with lung cancer gave Haggard a sense of urgency. Look into his eyes as he talks and sings and you're looking into Haggard's heart of darkness. The American Masters movie weaves photo montages from his childhood, clips from his early shows when he was finding his way, a concert a few years ago that is a valedictory speech and confessional and an interview to tell the story. The close ups of Haggard's face and guarded eyes speak volumes. There are more songs to write,feelings to resolve.

If you view those minutes with the sound turned off, you see a man who is still a prisoner - tormented by his own failings, his losses, and his knowledge that he's on his last boxcar. "Hell, I'm 70 years old. If they give me life without parole, I'm only going to serve two years…so…." and here he raises his middle finger. A man can only mellow so much.

Watching the clips of a youthful Haggard and today's interview is jolting. The result is not lost on him. He’s lived hard. He wants to die with a clear conscience.  Watching this film makes painfully clear this will be the hardest road he’s ever traveled.

Trombones and Temptations: The Whitney Center for the Arts

Trombones and Temptations: The Whitney Center for the Arts
42 Wendell Avenue
Pittsfield, MA
April 2, 2016
3:10 PM

Who the hell is that man with the trombone and why’s he standing in the portico of that building, I say to myself as I look for a parking space on Wendell Avenue. I’m delivering my tax return papers to the accountant I’ve known since my days in Pittsfield, my home town.

I’m twenty minutes early. I park the car.

First surprise: Aha…it’s actually a mannequin holding that shiny brass trombone and by then I’ve seen the sign announcing The Whitney Center for the Arts.

So here I am nodding hello to the trombone man and walking into an Italian Villa style mansion built in 1865. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow on three sumptuous Grier Horner paintings in the foyer. French yellow ochre walls, burnished wood crown moldings and parquet flooring, replete with a deep jade painted ceiling are an enticing point of entry.

Gallery W, the larger of The Whitney's two galleries, off the right side of the foyer is well-illuminated, the artwork strategically hung to give proportional space for viewers to enjoy groupings or individual work.

This month’s exhibit is entitled “Temptations.” The subject matter loosely lives up to the title. Paul Graubard leads the parade with a puckish sense of humor in his collages and oil paintings of frolicsome figures. With spring in the air, a little nudity, expressed with levity and exuberance, probably resonates in our DNA. With “Eat, Drink, Be Merry,” his quirky mixed media drawing on black background (photo below), he’s created his own Garden of Eden with familiar earthly enticements.

Julian Grey’s two seductive black and white photos will be an intriguing surprise when you check out his web site.

Tom McGill’s “push and pull” looks like a tour de force of that combine subject matter and treatment that stir his pot. The 77”x49” piece is actually 24 12”x12” panels, all created with acrylic and enamel on un-stretched canvas and hung together on grommets. My guess is that this collection could be rearranged in any random order and still pack a punch.

Twenty minutes has zipped by in a flash.

“We present chamber music programs, cabaret nights, opera nights, both with food and beverage service, theater events, and a new art exhibit every month,” Gallery director Leo Mazzeo says as I walk out the door.

"The Whit" is a little gem with facets that sparkle with energy and purpose. It appears to have figured out a way to engage the community with a broad range of visual and performing arts, a vibrant example of the re-energized arts/culture scene in Pittsfield.

Pittsfield has been staging a renaissance. Twenty years ago, a drive up the main drag, North Street, was depressing. Boarded up store fronts and a general sense of seediness had overtaken what was a bustling commercial district before GE pulled out of town in the mid 2000s. Honestly, I thought it was a death spiral and that I’d stop chirping about the fact I spent the first part of my life anchored here.

The esteemed Barrington Theater Company bought a dilapidated movie theater and set up camp in 2005. It seems to have been an elixir that revived the city. A raft of playhouses, museums and theaters followed suit.

3:30 PM. Time to cross the street to another re-purposed building on Wendell Avenue, my CPA’s office. If the arts scene in Pittsfield continues its growth, it’s going to need more than one lone trombone player to herald its ascension.

PHOTOS AND CAPTIONS

The mansion built in 1865 on Wendell Avenue is part of the Park Square Historic District in Pittsfield, MA. Michael Melle suited up the Trombone Man.

The main gallery in this enterprising arts center - the creatively leveraged space is perfect for exhibits, cabaret seating with tables (with catered food!), theater style seating for plays and readings and yes, Opera Night! The arts center is way ahead of the curve by multi-purposing the space to increase its audience, contributor, and client base.

 

Works by Tom McGill, Paul Graubard, Julian Grey on the theme of "Temptations".

 
Work by Graubard and McGill.

"The artists participating in 'Temptations' include Nayana Glazier, Paul Graubard, Julian Grey, Tom McGill, Sara Farrell Okamura, Joan Rooks, and Karen Schiltz.  Glazier, Okamura, and Schiltz have work in the larger Gallery W space only.  Rooks has work in the smaller Colt Gallery room only.  Graubard, Grey, and McGill have work in both rooms," Leo Mazzeo tells me in an email after my brief visit.

Glazier is from Athol, MA, Graubard, Rooks, and Schiltz are from Pittsfield.  Grey and McGill are from North Adams, MA,  McGill is from Hudson, NY.

The Colt Gallery, a smaller gallery across the foyer from the Gallery W (visible through doorway) contains the rest of the "Temptations" offerings. Joan Rooks painted the linoleum tiles here and in the W Gallery.


Multi purpose main gallery, versatile setting for classic and contemporary music, staged readings, lectures, and vocal music.

iPhotos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.

Bootycandy: High Camp, Low Down Comedy, Outrageously Funny

"Bootycandy"
A Play by Robert O’Hara
Speakeasy Stage Company
Boston Center for the Arts
Roberts Theater in the Calderwood Pavilion
March 12-April 9, 2016

Bootycandy is not a high theater experience but it is outrageously funny. Picture a series of loosely held together vignettes that exaggerate racial, sexual, and cultural stereotypes with humor and compassion and you begin to get the idea.

In a press release, playwright Robert O’Hara says, “I’m crazy. My entire extended family is a nut house – complete and utter fools. I think about my childhood and laugh out loud.  Constantly. I won’t tell you what ‘Bootycandy’ means. That’s explained in the first five minutes of my play. But I heard that word throughout my adolescence, mostly from Lizzie Bee (grandmother) and Lillie Ann (mother).”

As improbable as the play vignettes seem, O’Hara says he actually lived them growing up black, gay, talented and smart. White audience members might be used to seeing such comedic portrayals of black characters on TV sitcoms but rarely in a play. The play opens with scenes that explain the derivation of Bootycandy (your first guess is probably the correct one) that actually was part of O’Hara’s experience. The tone is set from there.

The portrayal, verging on caricature, of black women, gay black males, and clergy was a combination of acute observation and good-hearted acceptance. Johnny Lee Davenport, Jackie Davis, Tiffany Nichole Greene, John Kuntz, and Maurice Emmanuel Parent give fabulously over the top performances in their revolving roles as grandmothers, grandfathers, fathers, mothers, lovers, friends, and preachers. Each has at least one scene that takes down the house.

Johnny Lee Davenport’s turn as a preacher who, during a memorable sermon, doffs his minister robe to reveal a slinky silver lamé gown and glittery size 12 high heels sets the bar for outrageousness in an early scene. John Kuntz playing a racially obtuse TV host is uncomfortable for a white audience to watch. Tiffany Nichole Greene and Jackie Davis engaging in a phone conversation in which they discuss a friend’s choice to name her daughter Genitalia is high camp and deliriously well-delivered.

Davenport, Davis, Greene, Parent; Parent, Kuntz

Through it all, Maurice Emmanuel Hall (who represents O’Hara) is the unifying strand in his role as Sutter from naïve pre-teen to fragile adult male in the 1970s. The music of Michael Jackson blasts intermittently from the opening scenes to the finale.

Again from the press release  quoting O'Hara: “All I know for sure is this: when I told my mother that a theater was putting on my play ‘Bootycandy’ her response was, ‘What?! Bootycandy? These white folks are going to let you put on a play called ‘Bootycandy’? Are they crazy???’

“And my response was, ‘Yes. Yes, indeed.’”

Director Sumner L. Williams had no apparent difficulty managing the freewheeling shifts in scenes and characters. Design team of Jenna McFarland Lord (scenic), Amanda Mujica (costumes) and Jen Rock (lighting) and David Wilson (sound, much of it tracks of Michael Jackson songs) capture the era of the 1970s in which the playwright grew up. 

Most of what theatergoers know about the gay life experience is through movies or television. “Bootycandy” puts it on the front burner in black and white. I’ll bet that O’Hara’s mother is still shaking her head about this, but her son’s portrayal of his life, as crazy as it is, offers a window into a culture white audiences rarely see.