Author: Roger

I'm a librarian. I hear music, even when it's not being played. I used to work at a comic book store, and it still informs my life. I won once on JEOPARDY! - ditto.

Tagged, with a twist

When I was about 16, I was among a group of people somehow recruited to sing at a retirement dinner for some minister named Larry something-or-other who I barely knew, if at all.


LisaF at peripheral perceptions tagged me a couple of weeks ago. It’s a short meme, and I’ve got a bad cold, so this matches up well.

If you could have one superpower what would it be?

I think I’ve answered this before with the power to transport myself, a la Samantha Stevens in Bewitched. But I think I’ve changed my mind to flying at superspeed. Even going fast, I’d want the experience of moving. Not an apt comparison, but sometimes when I’m riding my bike downhill into Corporate Woods, I like to feel the wind in my hair – if I had hair and if I weren’t wearing a helmet.

Who is your style icon?

Jughead Jones of the Archie Comic strip. Actually, I have no icon. But I DO have a mantra. Form over function – never! (Unless required by the situation, such as wearing a tie to certain events.) If it looks good but feels awful, it generally isn’t worth it. I was thinking about this when I came across a post on ABC Wednesday about kinky boots.

What is your favorite quote?

“If you don’t know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else.” – Yogi Berra. Makes sense to me. I think I’ve experienced this at some points in my life. And you end up like David Byrne of the Talking Heads, saying And you may ask yourself, well, How did I get here?

What is the best compliment you ever received?

My wife said – in response to me helping someone who needed help when no one else was assisting – “You’re a good man, Roger Green.” Which reminded me of You’re a good man, Charlie Brown – same scansion and everything – but that’s OK.

And here’s a total sidebar:
When I was about 16, I was among a group of people somehow recruited to sing at a retirement dinner for some minister named Larry something-or-other who I barely knew, if at all. We never actually had a rehearsal together; I was just given these lyrics to memorize, swiped from the title song of the musical You’re a good man, Charlie Brown.

You’re a good man, Larry U
You’re the kind of reminder we need
You have humility, nobility, and a sense of duty
That is very rare indeed.

You’re a good man, Larry U
And we know you will go very far
Yes it’s hard to believe
Almost frightening to conceive
What a good man you are.

You are kind to all parishioners
And every little child
With a heart of gold
You believe what you’re told
Even if it is a little wild

You bravely face the Presbytery controversy
So they say
Your thought-provoking sermons
Have us thinking, every minute, every hour, every day.

I have NO idea what the heck the “Presbytery controversy” was. The kicker is that I got quite sick that Friday night and never DID sing the thing. Yet I have these 40-year-old lyrics that were obviously still buried in my brain.

What playlist/CD is in your CD player/playing right now?

It’s October so it’s heavy with October birthdays: Paul Simon (solo), Sting (solo), Tom Petty (solo and with the Heartbreakers, Mudcrutch, and Traveling Wilburys), John Lennon (solo and with The Beatles), plus whatever strikes my fancy.

Are you a night owl or morning person?

I used to be a night owl, but getting married, and especially since having the child, I’ve been forced to the a.m. side, unfortunately.

Do you prefer dogs or cats?

I’ve only had one dog when I was a kid, that bit me, which was OK BY MY PARENTS, but not with me. Then he (Lucky Stubbs, an Alaskan husky) bit the minister’s daughter, and he was given to a local farmer. I used to ride my bike down a dead-end street when I was a teenager, which would be a magnet for barking dogs, several of them at a time. So I was wary of dogs. I can think of two – one being a golden retriever (?) named Randle J. Dog who I actually loved.
And my daughter is VERY wary of dogs.

Whereas we had a lot of cats as a kid. My grandmother had several black cats in succession, all called Lucky. But I’ve had no pets since the mid-1980s. But I’d say cats.

What is the meaning behind your blog name?

There is, and was, these radio guys named John Gambling, three generation’s worth, and the moniker was/is Rambling with Gambling. Also, my name is Roger, so it created an almost alliteration, and I’m inclined to ramble about whatever strikes my fancy.

Hey, you who haven’t blogged in the last few months: consider yourself tagged.

30-Day Challenge: Day 25-One Of Your Most Prized Possessions

The Ringo signature has all but disappeared. The John and Paul signatures are quite faint. They all were done in ballpoint pen, it seems. Only George’s signature is clearly visible.


I have developed, over the years, almost an antipathy for “prized possessions”, if by that one means something of great monetary value. This is not a function of getting all Mother Teresa, but rather of pragmatism. When you have STUFF, and especially if it’s expensive STUFF, it starts to own you as much as you own it. Someone once told me that the two happiest days of a boat owner’s life is the day he buys it and the day he sells it.

I remember being appalled at hearing about someone buying a painting for $100 million for his private collection. If you have something that goes for nine figures, you have to have security, insurance et al worthy of the piece in case it gets stolen or damaged.

Even, at a much smaller scale, I started tiring of working in the comic book store dealing with customers who were more concerned about an issue’s potential worth, rather than its written or artistic value.

So anyway, I have a copy of Abbey Road signed by all four of the Beatles. Perhaps. Certainly, the person who gave it to me back in the mid-1980s believed it to be so. Funny story about how he gave it to me, actually.

My LP records were and are organized in alphabetical order. The pop albums are alpha by artist, pop being anything not classical. And my classical albums were ordered by the composer. For Christmas one year, I got a cryptic card telling me that I should look in my classic albums for some Fab item, clearly a Beatles reference. Sure enough, between my Bach and Beethoven was the album with four signatures.

As you can see (or more correctly cannot see), the Ringo signature has all but disappeared. The John and Paul signatures are quite faint. They all were done in ballpoint pen, it seems. Only George’s signature is clearly visible, made with some sort of marker.

The other issue is that Beatles’ roadies were notorious for signing Beatles’ names and passing them off as their bosses’. The album is from the UK, was acquired in the UK by means I was not privy to. For all I know, it’s the real deal. Or maybe it’s not. I have an odd comfort not knowing for sure.

Is That Racist QUESTION

The bar in the Holiday Inn outside Fenway Park that systematically failed to serve me on Flag Day, 1991, even as others got drinks – THAT I’m sure was racism.


So here’s the scenario: a woman (white) goes into a Muslim market, where she is given the cold shoulder until she asks for some halal products. Then people are quite friendly. And the woman says later, “It seems that racism exists everywhere.” I give an understanding nod, even as I’m thinking to myself, “Is that really racist behavior?” Or is it the action of a group of people who are merely suspicious of strangers, of someone new (and, to be sure, different)?

There are plenty of times I’ve been in that situation: unfamiliar churches, different neighborhoods, stores. Sometimes I’ve gotten less than desirable outcomes, but I didn’t blame them all on racism. (The bar in the Holiday Inn outside Fenway Park that had systematically failed to serve me on Flag Day, 1991, even as others got drinks – THAT I’m sure was racism.)

Another white female friend of mine says she gets a distant vibe from a local convenience store where most of the workers and virtually all the customers are black. And she was quite angry about it. She claims not to have a racist bone in her body, and perhaps that’s true.

It occurs to me that most of us profile, in one form or another. If I were out at 1:30 a.m., a single young adult walking by would not worry me, but a group, no matter the race or gender, might make me nervous.

Back in the days of the segregated South in the United States, if a white person walked into a black establishment, one might reasonably worry that it might mean trouble. Muslims had lived peacefully in the US for years, even after 9/11, but it is only recently that many of them have said that, for the first time, they felt afraid in America; maybe it’s the same fear that made them wary of the stranger.

But what do YOU think?

Technology and Me

Once again, this weekend, I was the technological hero, getting papers to print for my wife.


As you may know, about three years ago, Congress banned incandescent bulbs in the energy bill by 2014 (or 2012; i’ve read both). Recently, a couple Republicans have offered up legislation called the Better Use of Light Bulbs Act (or BULB Act, which would “repeal the de facto ban on the incandescent light bulb contained in Subtitle B of Title III of the Energy Independence and Security Act of 2007.” Frankly, I’m not unsympathetic to their position. Unfortunately, that ship has sailed. I read that in the last month, the last major U.S. factory making the traditional light bulbs has closed, with a “Virginia manufacturing plant [taking] its jobs to China, where making eco-friendly CFLs is cheaper.”

I must admit that I have not yet warmed the new CFLs for at least two reasons:
1. They take longer to illuminate a room, more noticeable with my aging eyes.
2. There are trace amounts of mercury in the bulbs, and I don’t know where/how to throw them away.
And the need to throw them away has already occurred; despite supposedly lasting 10 times longer – a good thing since they cost about four times as much – we’ve had a couple go on us already, and just don’t know what to do with them. I suspect there is/will be massive hoarding of incandescent bulbs, the epitome of the “good idea”.
***
I was riding my bike home from church this week and I saw someone’s Blackberry lying in my path. It looks as though it had been severally damaged, either from the fall, or possibly from a car running over it. I couldn’t turn it on. I realize that, in all possibility someone is going to be devastated by the loss of their tool, and it made me think – do I really want one of these things? I’m likely to lose the damn thing. Then where would I be?
***
Tuesday night, I want to record both The Good Wife and Parenthood, Tuesday at 10 pm. Normally the DVR would allow this, but no. And it’s because the Dancing with the Stars results show is running until 10:01 pm and I can’t record three shows at once; there’s no option to shorten the programming of DWTS back to 10 pm. And for a brief moment, I was a bit annoyed by this until I thought, “Hey, I can record two shows at once. That’s pretty remarkable!” Would have saved me some grief in the 1980s when St. Elsewhere and the Equalizer were both on Wednesday at 10 pm. In any case, the solution to the current issue is simple; stay up until 10:01 pm, record one of the shows and go to bed. In case you thought, “Stay up and watch it on our (non-existent) other TV,” I don’t watch TV in real time anymore, with the rare exception of some sporting events. In case you were suggesting, “Don’t record DWTS” – hey, it’s my wife’s show, not mine.
***
Once again, this weekend, I was the technological hero, getting papers to print for my wife. And here’s the great secret: I cold rebooted the computer (Ctrl-Alt-Delete was NOT working); I unplugged, then replugged the printer, which bizarrely seems to have no on/off switch. In retrospect, I could have just shut off and turned on the surge protector. Here’s to rebooting, which people STILL insist has NOTHING to do with actually kicking your machines.
***
I haven’t switched to WordPress 3.0 yet. I asked a techie if I should and he said, “Sure, just make sure you don’t lose anything you want.” Which, to my ears means, “Leave the damn thing alone.”

James Dean – d. 9/30/55

It’s clear, though, that Bob Dylan “got” it about James Dean, and that Don McLean understood that Dylan “got” it.


I’m not sure that most people can fully understand cultural phenomena that take place before they were born, or aware of the outside world. A person born after 1968 could appreciate the Beatles’ music, but could he or she understand Beatlemania?

Well, that’s how I am about the actor James Dean, who died 55 years ago today, not to be confused with Jimmy Dean, the sausage guy who died recently. I recognize him as a cultural icon, though he was in only three major movies, two of which were released posthumously. I understand it intellectually, but I didn’t “get” it.

CBS News has done at least two stories about Dean; here’s just a snippet of one, James Dean’s cousin Marcus Winslow takes Steve Kroft on a tour of Dean’s museum and his final resting place.

Here’s the song Message From James Dean by Bill Hayes.

It’s clear, though, that Bob Dylan “got” it, and that Don McLean understood that Dylan “got” it. In this FAQ about McLean’s American Pie, referring to the line, “In a coat he borrowed from James Dean”:

In the movie “Rebel Without a Cause”, James Dean has a red windbreaker that holds symbolic meaning throughout the film… In one particularly intense scene, Dean lends his coat to a guy who is shot and killed; Dean’s father arrives, sees the coat on the dead man, thinks it’s Dean, and loses it. On the cover of “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan”, Dylan is wearing just such as red windbreaker and is posed in a street scene similar to one shown in a well-known picture of James Dean. Bob Dylan played a command performance for the Queen and Prince Consort of England. He was not properly attired, so perhaps this is a reference to his apparel…
James Dean’s red windbreaker is important throughout the film, not just at the end. When he put it on, it meant that it was time to face the world, time to do what he thought had to be done, and other melodramatic but thoroughly enjoyable stuff like that. The week after the movie came out, virtually every clothing store in the U.S. was sold out of red windbreakers. Remember that Dean’s impact was similar to Dylan’s: both were a symbol for the youth of their time, a reminder that they had something to say and demanded to be listened to.

But maybe I began to understand better when I read what Wendy wrote about first seeing Rebel Without A Cause:
Here was a character who felt unloved and unseen by his parents just like me. He was also an outcast at his high-school which I completely understood. What I didn’t understand though was how could anyone not fall in love with a character like “Jim”. That was the first time that James Dean touched me with his magic.

As I watched the movie further, I realized that Jim represented all the loneliness, angst, and anger that teenagers either flaunt or hide. He was the antithesis of the shiny smile-y, white-bread teenager that was hailed in the 1950s. Jim didn’t care about how he appeared and couldn’t hide the pain that he wore like a cloak.

THAT, I GET.
***
Eddie Fisher died last week. I don’t remember his singing career at all – and I knew singers of his era – and all that leaving Debbie Reynolds for Liz Taylor stuff was before my recollecting, too. Mostly, for me, he was Carrie Fisher’s dad.

Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial