Well, the day has finally come. I finally made it back to Wrigley Field after over five years. There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that this occasion doesn’t thrill others like it does me, but then – well, that’s why God created the concept of “tomorrow,” when those uninterested can check back for other folderol. For anyone else (and “anyone” might be a particularly appropriate word), here are a few ponderings about the day. One of the great (and perhaps unique) things about going to a Cubs game is that the El train stops literally a block-and-a-half from Wrigley Field. (It’s in the middle of a brownstone neighborhood after all – something I love. You’re walking through a old world neighborhood, turn a corner…and then there a baseball park looming up in front of you.) So, getting to a game is profoundly easy. There’s an El station only an eight-minute walk from where I’m staying with my aunt. They come by about every 15 minutes, and on a Cubs game day, every El stops at Addison, where Wrigley Field is. I went with my cousin Susie, which gave me more trepidation than it might seem – that’s because she’s a big White Sox fan. She said she thought about wearing her White Sox cap, but after some consideration she decided against it. It’s a glorious ballpark, built in 1914, the second oldest in the U.S, after Fenway Park in Boston. And it still has the only scoreboard in baseball that’s hand operated, looming over center field It's not just that the day was great -- sunny, around 70 degrees, a light breeze -- but we lucked out, catching a doughnut hole. It was supposed to rain Tuesday, yesterday and Thursday. And it did rain on Tuesday...and is still expected to today -- but when we were at the game yesterday? It cleared up perfectly for some reason known to a greater power. Everything was wonderful about the game, except the game. The Cubs only manage one lousy single -- and it was a scratch, infield dribbler that Cubs catcher beat out by half a step. And that was it. And they lost 3-0. Pretty good pitching by the Cubs, but that carries the "positive side" only so far. Making things worst, the San Diego Padres pitcher, Dylan Cease, is a former pitcher on the Chicago White Sox. And a favorite of my cousin. So, she kept enthusing about how great he was doing. The best I could muster was, "I'm so happy for you..." Still, the day was a joy. It was wonderful being back at Wrigley after far too long, and it was a treat watching the Cubs in person there. The elves taking care of the homestead back in Los Angeles say they are very jealous. Alas, no, we 30,000 in attendance didn't get to sing Steve Goodman's "Go, Cubs, Go" after a victory. But there are about 125 games to go. Or to put it better -- about 125 games to go, Cubs, go. We now return you to our regularly scheduled website.
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On today's jaunt for my first trip back to Chicago in five years, I went to the Art Institute. What was great about this trip is I took advantage of Members Get in One Hour Early, which I didn't know existed on previously visits. And that meant, since the place was empty, I could walk up close to Georges Seurat’s famous painting "A Sunday on La Grande Jatte" (the basis for Stephen Sondheim's musical, Sunday in the Park with George). As a result, I could check out his pointillism extremely up close. This hasn't been possible before, since to room is always jammed, specifically to see that painting, and doing so would blocking everyone else’s view. Today, no one else was in the room. And Seurat's work was AMAZING. What he did was almost unearthly. Here's the best I can do to show what I mean – This is the painting in full: And here’s a section up very close. (It's the man wearing a top hat in the lower left.) The minute detail and tiny shifts in color from one "dot" to the next is remarkable. The entire painting is made up of this dots. And as you can see, it's a huge painting. Further, to do that up close while having to imagine what it all will look like from afar. What a stunning achievement!!! It took him two years to complete, and still continued with some touch-ups. Know, too, that this small-section photo doesn't do it justice, peering at the expansive painting from inches away. Here's another fun painting to have come across. Most people know the painting "Whistler's Mother" by James Whistler. But have you ever seen Whistler's brother? Here he is -- And it's a treat every time to see "American Gothic." It's so iconic, almost a cliche as a piece of folklore. But then, there the real thing is in front of you. Finally -- and I'm going to make it "finally," because I could go on and on. Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks," great works by Picasso, Monet (including my favorite, "Sandvicka, Norway"), Renoir, Chagall -- especially his great "American Windows" montage that he did on commission for the City of Chicago, Dali, Magritte, Georgia O'Keefe, John Singer Sargent, it's tremendous. But making it even better is how thoughtfully and superbly it's all laid out and presented. I spent five hours wandering around. But finally, I'll offer this painting that I've grown to love, not just because it's so wonderful, but even more because it's nothing like what you expect from this artist. If I asked people who they thought painted this, I suspect most would say someone like, perhaps, Winslow Homer. Though it's not. Here's the painting -- As I said, no, it's not Winslow Homer. But as you can see, it appears to be a very nice, rich New England ocean scene, filled with warmth. So...give it some thought. Who do you think painted this. I'll just note that, no, it's also not a New England ocean scene. This was painted by Vincent van Gogh. Yes, really. Even the elves taking care of the homestead can't believe it. They think I'm lying. But I'm not. More to come... Well, I made it to Chicago. Finally. After no traveling for five years. That's bad enough, but not getting to Chicago in that long? Ack.
It's a fine art, getting back into the swing of things. I almost blew my taxi ride to the airport. There's a small mom-and-pop company I think, and I made my reservation about 10 days ahead of time. About four days later, I was checking a note I'd left for myself about the trip that didn't concern the cab ride at all -- but in reading the note, I saw my flight time...and realized that I'd been considering two times, and gave the cab company the wrong time for my pickup, using the other flight that'd decided not to take! Fortunately, I caught it, and was able to switch the taxi time. There's a lot of construction at LAX, so we left with plenty of time to deal with it. But when we got there, the driver suggested dropping me at "Arrivals" which would save at least a half-hour, since the construction was on the "Departures" level. Very smart, and I said absolutely. (I also thought, why didn't you suggest that when I made the taxi reservation? -- since he's the one I spoke with. Not a problem at all, just a bit surprising.) And a good thing ultimately, since the logistics at the airport were a bit flummoxed. I was dropped off at the American terminal, got my gate number (151) and when I eventually started walking to it, I noticed that the gates were starting at #48. Well, that doesn't seem right, I thought. What happened is that gate #151 was not only not in that terminal -- or even the next terminal...but in the International terminal! So, it was a looooong walk. But happily, I didn't have to go through check-in again (which was easy anyway, since I have a "Known Travel Number" pass, and the terminals connect without having to go outside. And also...I had two hours to get there. I took my time, and all was well. The flight was crowded, but it left on time, was fine and arrived 20 minutes early. And now I've finally made it back to Chicago and...huzzah! The elves taking care of my place say everything is good, nothing is broken, and for now I have to take their word for it... More to come. Yes, it's true. After five years, for the first time since the pandemic, I am actually going out of town on a vacation. (I did go on a trip that I wrote about four years ago, in the early days of COVID, but that was only spending the night in another room of my home which I set up like a trip away, so it doesn't really count as "out of town.") The main reason for the delay is a wariness of traveling during COVID. And while I know a great many people have been traveling for a long time, I just haven't felt comfortable doing so. And still don't completely. But enough that I made the reservations and head off today. It turns out that traveling is somewhat like a muscle. You have to use it to keep in shape. I'm out of shape with traveling, and all the little things you have to do to get ready, but I think I'm all set. I did have one screw-up, though -- I made a taxi reservation with a mom-and-pop company I like a lot that happily are still around. A few days later, I was checking my notes about something else entirely...when I saw I'm made a stupid mistake, and ordered my taxi for another time I had considered leaving, later than the flight I settled on. Oh-so fortunately, I caught this, called the cab company the next morning, and they were able to move up my ride. So, all's well. I'll be going to Chicago, which I always love, but all the more since I have always gone there once (or sometimes twice) a year, and five years away is much, much too long. I'll be visiting some favorite locales, like the Arti Institute and Chicago Botanic Garden, visiting with family and friends I haven't seen in too many years (though have stayed in touch with, of course), a Cubs game needless-to-say, and eating at some of my favorite restaurants that I dearly miss. I can't wait. Happily, the elves will be able to come here and take over the place while I'm gone. (One had been nagging me for a couple years about when in the world I'd be going somewhere, so they could move in. Temporarily, of course. Oh, yes, he said, though I think I caught a laugh and knowing wink to his friend.) I won't likely be writing as much here while I'm away -- and the timing of posts will likely be different, considering the time zones. But I'll do my best to check in every day. If you have any problems, take it up with the elves. The other day, I decided to correct the latest MAGOP talking point, that Democrats are the real fascists, not Republicans. Putting aside that it seems obvious from this that they have no more idea what fascism is than they know what communism or socialism are (despite trying to pain Democrats with that for the past 70 years), what they most are completely unaware of is that fascism is specifically a conservative political philosophy. So, calling a liberal a fascist is a contradiction in terms.
It turned out that MAGOPs don’t like hearing this. The vitriol came pouring down. Unrelentingly. I responded to many, continuing to explain politely that, no, they were incorrect, though for the most invective-laced it was clear why the “Block” button was invented. Occasionally, though, I did even reply to a few of those that cried out for an answer. For instance, I would reply, “Just so you know, starting a note to a total stranger with “Dumbass” is generally not going to start a meaningful exchange.” Or to those who would send a graphic meme that said something like, “You are a stupid idiot idiot idiot idot. You make me sick,” they would get the response, “That is not a compelling argument.” I particularly liked the person who explained back that fascism was actually just an offshoot of communism. It was near-impossible to let that fly past, so I’d just point out that that would be a neat trick that could not be found anywhere in reality. I didn’t engage anyone of these in conversation and debate – clearly, there was no point in that. Minds were certain, locked in. But to be clear, the reason I did reply at all was for other people reading the wildly off-base comments who didn’t know the truth, and I felt it was important to correct the disinformation so they didn’t go away believing it all. And yes, I understood full well that it was like playing whack-a-mole in a cornfield of whack-a-mole that spread as far as the weary eye could see. That’s all well and good. I was okay with the responses, since I eventually realized it was easy to ignore them. Replies on Twitter go to your Notifications folder, so all one has to do is not read your Notification folder for a couple days, when the vitriol usually dies down. It does mean you want see the “Likes” and “Reposts” and any comments from people you know who you might want to reply to. But it’s a minor downside to the beatific comfort of silence. What I didn’t count on was the magical world of algorithms, especially those set up by Elon Musk. Those are the computer codes that identify content and match it up with like-minded content it thinks you might enjoy. That’s one of the nefarious results that allows hate-filled posters to find one another and reinforce their anger and echo chamber. And it turns out that by answering many of these corrosive slams and lies and disinformation, my algorithm buddy seemed to think, “Hey, this guy is responding to these people, he must want to continue doing so! Okay, here, let me dump all this garbage on your timeline…” There is good news/ bad news to all this – The bad news is…well, obvious. It’s pretty hideous what solid MAGOP writes. Not to me, but just in general, and mostly to themselves. And they write a whole lot of it, too. It’s hateful, ignorant, often filled with lies and actual “fake news” (whimsical for people who claim they supposedly detest it so much) that they believe, and believe all the more so because it gets reinforced. And I have to wade through this tripe to get to the actual news and exchanges I’m there for. (To be clear, I’ve always gotten a mix of political tweets on my timeline. Mostly liberal, yes, but enough that’s conservative and MAGOP -- some of which I’ll reply to, most of which I’ll at least be aware of. And that’s fine, and as it should be. But this kind of empty, angst-ridden venality is just a detestable bubble.) The good news is that it’s important to see how desolate that unsubstantiated fury is. It’s disturbing, to say the least, but it’s important to know what the sane world is dealing with. And yes, the bad news part in this dynamic overwhelms the good news. But I’m glad for that perspective. What I don’t know is if I’m stuck with this algorithm from now on when rummaging through Twitter – especially since occasionally there will be something SO profoundly inaccurate or a hurtful lie about something that demands being corrected, or if it will fade back to normal, as long as I keep my replies to such things to a minimum. Time will tell. If it doesn’t, it might render Twitter useless, or at least as only a platform to post on and not bother reading. Or perhaps greatly limit what accounts can get sent to my timeline. I’m hoping for a return to normal. I’ll accept semi-normal. But I do mean it – I’m glad to see how insane and angry and utterly misinformed the core MAGOP world is. And no, that's not bias. It’s an accurate description of the equivalence of people saying “2 plus 3 equals ‘French toast,’ and I hate you, and all libs are scum, minorities should be deported, and Trump is God.” And just to cleanse the palate and end on a refreshing note -- the correct answer is 5. Last year, Broadway lyricist Sheldon Harnick passed away at the age of 99. But that means today him on the 100th anniversary of his birth. It's a notable occasion for the good fellow who won a Tony Award for Fiddler on the Roof, a Tony and Pulitzer Price for Fiorello!, and such other musicals with Jerry Bock as She Loves Me, The Apple Tree, The Rothschilds, Rex (with Richard Richard Rodgers), and the opera Captain Jinks and the Horse Marines -- and much more. As I've mentioned here, I interviewed Sheldon years ago when I was a student at Northwestern, and he returned to campus as Homecoming Grand Marshal. I then made a radio documentary from it for the school radio station, WNUR, and two decades later finally tracked down his address through a mutual friend to send him a copy. And when I told my mother after all that time that I finally found someone who knew where Harnick lived, she said, "Oh, you mean, Aunt Joan?" I was floored. I never had any idea that they grew up together and even went to college together. Though. no, she didn't have his address. When I sent him the radio documentary though and explained my further connection, he sent a handwritten note back, and the first line was, "OH, MY GOD!!! JOAN SERED!!! (which was her maiden name. And yes, this is the Aunt Joan who I wrote about here five Januarys ago for her surprise 90th birthday party. Happily, she's still going strong.) Though they've periodically crossed paths over the many decades, I was able to get them together 14 years ago when we all saw a production of his show She Loves Me at the Writers Theatre in Glencoe, Illinois. (And yes, this was the production I've written about several times that starred Jessie Mueller before she left for Broadway and won a Tony Award for starring in the musical Beautiful.) But enough of all that. On with the show. Here's a wonderful, hour-long interview with Sheldon Harnick at the Kennedy Center when he was 90, and you'll see he's vibrant and entertaining. Know too that this isn't just an interview, but includes several of his songs from wonderful performers. And here's one of my favorite of his lesser-known songs, "In My Own Lifetime," from The Rothschilds, which starred Hal Linden who won the Tony Award as Best Actor. Harnick writes poetically and richly with the simplicity of almost everyday language, which is his hallmark. Years ago, when I made that aforementioned radio documentary for the college station, I ended it with this song -- which I preceded with a clip of Harnick talking about how he'd like people to listen to his songs and say, "Yeah. Yeah, that's true." And we'll end our celebration with this video from when Harnick was 94. singing absolutely wonderfully one of his classics (in fact, I think one of the best interpretations I've heard of the song), "Do You Love Me?" from Fiddler on the Roof with Judy Blazer. And I suspect Ms. Blazer is thrilled to be performing this with the song's lyricist. All the more so since it was promoting the opening of a revival of the show. |
AuthorRobert J. Elisberg is a political commentator, screenwriter, novelist, tech writer and also some other things that I just tend to keep forgetting. Feedspot Badge of Honor
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