Due mainly to a lack of reliable refrigeration it wasn’t all that long ago that those who didn’t live on a farm had their milk delivered.  Many homes even had a “milk chute” with a small cabinet on the outside, where the milkman would place the bottles, and a door on the inside so that the resident could retrieve the milk without having to go outside.

Although I don’t recall those icebox days, I do remember having the milk delivered in recyclable glass bottles, along with other dairy products, right up into my high school years.  Mind you, we were clearly part of a shrinking market. Blame the ubiquity of refrigerators, improved disposable packaging, the additional cost of residential delivery and even the potential for theft from the milk chute or front door stoop, but delivered milk is now a thing of the past in many places, except apparently in the UK where after years of decline milk floats are on the rise again in light of environmental awareness and interest in fresh, organic nutrition.

As morning provides the biggest demand for milk, a milkman’s day was an early one, hence the term “in with the milk” for those who notoriously stayed out so late that they were able to carry in the dairy delivery upon their return. But for most, the idea was to have the milk there, along with the morning paper, when you woke up, which is why the first four (stream of conscious) lines of today’s selection still remain clever.

Unlike many of his early songs, which were first recorded by other artists, “Living Without You” was first heard on Randy Newman’s eponymous debut album in 1968.  Unfortunately “Randy Newman” was so poorly received upon its release that the label (Warner) offered buyers the opportunity to trade it for something else in the company’s catalog.  Needless to say, it went out of print and remained so until it was re-released on CD in the mid-‘90s. But it still had a following, including Mary McCaslin, who released her own version of “Living Without You” on her 1974 record, “Way Out West.”

Known for her distinctive vocal style, McCaslin is also regarded as a pioneer of open guitar tunings (where the strings are tuned so that a chord is achieved without the need to fret or press any of the strings) and as many will recall, back in the ‘70s we’d keep an eye out for the times that she and her husband, Jim Ringer (they were nicknamed “the Bramble and the Rose”) would come to Club Passim in Harvard Square.

Although Jim’s long gone (died in 1992 at the age of 56) Mary McCaslin still tours ‘round the coffee house circuit…and no one can get that milk truck to haul the sun up like she can.

  LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Tuesday 24 April

Living Without You

 Milk truck hauls the sun up

The paper hits the door

The traffic shakes my floor

I think about you

Time to face the dawning gray

Of another lonely day

And it’s so hard

Living without you

And It’s so hard

So hard

And it’s so hard

Living without you

Everyone has got something

And they’re all trying to get some more

They got something to get up for

Well I ain’t about to

Nothin’s gonna happen

Nothin’s gonna change

And it’s so hard

Living without you

And it’s so hard

So hard

And it’s so hard

Living without you

Here’s to my Uncle John who died at the age of 94 on Saturday.  I wish everyone could have such an uncle.  A long-standing English Literature professor, he was a recognized authority on John Ruskin, the Victorian art critic and social thinker.

Once while staying at Venice’s La Calcina Pensione, where Ruskin himself had resided for a number of months in 1877, I sent my Uncle John and Aunt Betty a postcard with the silly quip: “Here I am surrounded by The Stones of Venice.”  Referring to one of Ruskin’s best-known works, it was a joke I knew that they (at least) would find amusing.

And for much of my adult life, that’s the kind of correspondence we had (perhaps a few times a year) and for which I shall be forever grateful.  His richly, entertaining letters on the nature of things were “pass around” examples of wit and erudition, which I deeply inhaled.  That I was able to even attempt to match them with letters of my own was a tremendous way to advance my writing skills, with the happy benefit of remaining in touch.

Yes, he was an authority on Ruskin but his great love (except for my Aunt Betty of course) were the works of Thomas Hardy.  One of the great “Naturalistic” writers, who depicted a literary world where one’s heredity and social environment greatly influence one’s character.  I guess the same could be said for Uncle John.

Born, John Lewis Bradley in London 1917, he attended London’s Highgate School and went on to earn degrees in English Literature at Yale and Harvard. In 1941 he joined the British Naval Intelligence Service, serving in California and New York prior to transferring to the Royal Canadian Air Force in 1943 (the year he and my aunt were married), with numerous sorties over Germany as a Wellington navigator-bombardier beginning in 1944.

After receiving his PhD from Yale at war’s end he began to teach, and there he was truly in his element, working his way up to full professorship (and a Guggenheim Fellowship) with years spent at: Wellesley, Western Reserve, University of Maryland, Clark University, Mount Holyoke, Ohio State, University of South Carolina and eventually Durham University back in England, where he chaired the English Department.

When he and Aunt Betty retired in 1982 they moved south into a delightful thatched roof cottage in the picturesque village of Hinton St. George, Somerset where he could continue his research and writing in the depths of “Hardy Country.”

Church Cottage, Hinton St. George (taken during my black & white phase) was a delightful place to visit.

After they’d both turned 90, they relocated to Pasadena, California to be near my cousin (their daughter) and their grandson.  It was a major switch from rural Somerset, where Uncle John was known to all as “the professor,” but at least he’d seen a bit of nearby Hollywood in the past…

If like me you’re one to leap ahead, you’ve no doubt figured out today’s selection and I expect you’re wondering what “Animal Crackers in My Soup” (hardly a “Naturalistic” classic) has to do with such a man as John Bradley.  Well, with lyrics by Irving Caeser and Ted Koehler and music by Ray Henderson, it was introduced to the world by Shirley Temple in the 1935 film “Curly Top” and the man holding the baton as musical director was none other than Uncle John’s father, Oscar Hambleton Bradley.

Also born in London his was a musical upbringing that led to an eminent career as conductor/musical director for the Ziegfeld Follies, as well as numerous Broadway and Hollywood musicals, including “Curly Top.”  

As I see it, if even in a very small way, this silly song (and others like it) helped to finance an education that sparked a decidedly precious enthusiasm for literature, language, music and especially for teaching. And that enthusiasm stands out as a singular rivulet in my own life’s edification. I’ll say it again. I wish everyone could have such an uncle.

 LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Monday 23 April

Animal crackers in my soup

Monkeys and rabbits loop the loop

Gosh oh gee but I have fun

Swallowing animals one by one

In every bowl of soup I see

Lions and Tigers watching me

I make ’em jump right through a hoop

Those animal crackers in my soup

When I get hold of the big bad wolf

I just push him under to drown

Then I bite him in a million bits

And I gobble him right down

When they’re inside me where it’s dark

I walk around like Noah’s Ark

I stuff my tummy like a goop

With animal crackers in my soup

Animal crackers in my soup

Do funny things to me

They make me think my neighbourhood

Is a big menagerie

For instance there’s our Janitor

His name is Mr. Klein

And when he hollers at us kids

He reminds me of a Lion

 The Grocer is so big and fat

He has a big moustache

He looks just like a Walrus

Just before he takes a splash

Animal crackers in my soup

Monkeys and rabbits loop the loop

Gosh oh gee but I have fun

Swallowing animals one by one

In every bowl of soup I see

Lions and Tigers watching me

I make ’em jump right through a hoop

Those animal crackers in my soup

When I get hold of the big bad wolf

I just push him under to drown

Then I bite him in a million bits

And I gobble him right down

 When they’re inside me where it’s dark

I walk around like Noah’s Ark

I stuff my tummy like a goop

With animal crackers in my soup

 When they’re inside me where it’s dark

I walk around like Noah’s Ark

I stuff my tummy like a goop

With animal crackers in my soup

As with many “separatist” denominations, Unitarianism stretches back to the 16^th Century.  But it didn’t get rolling’ round these New England parts until just after the American Revolution, when the once Anglican King’s Chapel in Boston (first gathered in 1686) officially accepted the Unitarian faith in 1785; a sensible move all things considered.

By then most New England congregations had evolved from Calvinist orthodoxy into a more Congregational Christianity but religious change remained in the air and many a spired church house housed a riven flock. While some still held to Trinitarianism (Father, Son and Holy Ghost) others asserted a unitary belief in God, hence Unitarianism.

By the time Harvard University (founded by Congregationalists) had become a bastion of Unitarian training in 1825, village greens throughout New England were seeing the building of new churches, sometimes Unitarian, sometimes Trinitarian, depending upon who got to keep the silverware.  It’s a squabble that continues.  While I’m a Unitarian-Universalist, my father was Congregationalist.  Then again his father was Unitarian.

Early Unitarians did not hold Universalist beliefs (which were specific about rejecting the Puritan emphasis of eternal damnation and instead asserted that “all are universally saved”).  But over time the two theologies grew to become nearly identical, with an emphasis on keeping “an open mind to the religious questions people have struggled with in all times and places” and the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) was formed in 1961.

Some creditable individuals can be identified as being Unitarian or Universalist (or Unitarian-Universalist), including: John Adams, Abigail Adams, John Quincy Adams, Louisa May Alcott, Ethan Allen, Susan B. Anthony, Bela Bartok, Clara Barton, Charles Bulfinch, E.E. Cummings, Charles Darwin, Charles Dickens, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Margaret Fuller, Buckminster Fuller, Horace Greeley, Linus Pauling, Florence Nightingale, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Charles Elliott, Albert Schweitzer, Thomas Jefferson, W.M. Kiplinger, John Locke, Paul Newman, Christopher Reeve, Paul Revere, Malvina Reynolds, Arthur Schlesinger, Pete Seeger, Rod Serling, Kurt Vonnegut, William Carlos Williams, Frank Lloyd Wright…and today’s artist, Peter Mayer.

Based in Minnesota, Mayer studied Theology and music in college and served as a church music director for eight years, while performing at clubs and colleges, and writing and recording his own music.  He began to tour full time in 1995 and has since released nine CDs, having sold over 70 thousand copies of them independently. Today’s selection from his 2002 album, Earth Town Square, is now found in the UU hymnal supplement “Singing the Journey”

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Sunday 22 April

Blue Boat Home

Though below me, I feel no motion

Standing on these mountains and plains

Far away from the rolling ocean

Still my dry land heart can say

I’ve been sailing all my life now

Never harbor or port have I known

The wide universe is the ocean I travel

And the earth is my blue boat home

 Sun, my sail, and moon my rudder

As I ply the starry sea

Leaning over the edge in wonder

Casting questions into the deep

Drifting here with my ship’s companions

All we kindred pilgrim souls

Making our way by the lights of the heavens

In our beautiful blue boat home

 I give thanks to the waves upholding me

Hail the great winds urging me on

Greet the infinite sea before me

Sing the sky my sailor’s song

I was born upon the fathoms

Never harbor or port have I known

The wide universe is the ocean I travel

And the earth is my blue boat home

Well it’s official.  The US Postal Service has no official motto. The familiar line that many of us supposed was our mail carrier’s creed is actually an inscription engraved above the Corinthian colonnade of the James Farley Post Office in New York (designed by McKim, Mead & White to match the grand and beautiful Pennsylvania Station that once faced it).

The inscription was derived from The Histories of Herodotus, one of the earliest accounts of the rise of the Persian Empire (written between 450 and 420 BC) and a seminal work in Western literature. As such those persevering soles completing their appointed rounds in the snow, rain and gloom of night were actually ancient Persian couriers.

Not that it’s not an inspiring notion for our own hardworking postal workers.  It’s a fine thing to utilize such a line. Laurie Anderson certainly did, not only including it in today’s selection, but also interpreting it in American Sign Language for the accompanying music video, which was introduced at New York’s Museum of Modern Art (URL below).

Written and first performed in 1981,“O Superman” was part of a larger work (“United States”) and released on Anderson’s debut album, “Big Science”.  Spoken through a vocoder, it’s actually a loose cover of the aria from Jules Massenet’s 1885 opera, Le Cid, with its first lines (“O Superman / O Judge / O Mom and Dad”) “echoing” the aria’s appeal (“Ô Souverain / ô juge / ô père”).

Later lines (“when love is gone, there’s always justice,” etc.)  are eclectically derived from the Tao Te Ching: “When Tao is lost, there is goodness. When goodness is lost, there is kindness. When kindness is lost, there is justice. When justice is lost, there is ritual. Now ritual is the husk of faith and loyalty, the beginning of confusion.”

Although the eight and a half minute performance-art piece was a huge hit in the UK (where it peaked at Number 2 on the Singles Charts), prior to its release Laurie Anderson was a little known artist…outside the art would that is.

Born in 1947 in Glen Ellyn, Illinois, Laura Phillips “Laurie” Anderson majored in art history, graduating magna cum laude and Phi Beta Kappa from Barnard College, with a Master’s of Fine Art in Sculpture from Columbia University for dessert.  A pioneer in electronic music (who invented a number of the musical instruments used in her shows and recordings) she worked as an art instructor, a magazine art critic and as a children’s book illustrator, while creating her early performance-art pieces.

By the mid-1980s Anderson had dropped “O Superman” from her repertoire and it was only at the suggestion of her husband (none other than Lou Reed of Velvet Underground fame) that she revived it in 2001 for a “retrospective” concert tour.  Needless to say, the newly-revived piece took on eery new significance (“here come the planes,” etc) after the events of September 11^th that year and a live performance was recorded in New York the very next week.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Saturday 21 April

 O Superman

 O Superman

O Judge

O Mom and Dad

Mom and Dad

O Superman

O Judge

O Mom and Dad

Mom and Dad

 Hi. I’m not home right now

But if you want to leave a message, just start talking at the sound of the tone

Hello? This is your mother

Are you there? Are you
coming home?

Hello? Is anybody home?

Well, you don’t know me,
but I know you

And I’ve got a message to give to you

Here come the planes

So you better get ready. Ready to go

You can come
 as you are, but pay as you go

Pay as you go

And I said: OK. Who is this really?

And the voice said: This is the hand, the hand that takes

This is the 
hand, the hand that takes

This is the hand, the hand that takes

Here come the planes

They’re American planes

Made in America

Smoking or non-smoking?

And the voice said: Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night

shall stay these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.

 ‘Cause when love is gone, there’s always justice

And when justice is gone, there’s always force

And when force is gone, there’s always Mom

Hi Mom!

 So hold me, Mom, in your long arms

So hold me,
 Mom, in your long arms

In your automatic arms

Your electronic arms

In your arms

So hold me, Mom, in your long arms

Your petrochemical arms

Your military arms

In your electronic arms

  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-VIqA3i2zQw

Perhaps it’s the annoying fatigue, cloaked with an invariable sense of purpose, but far from a leisurely ride or everyday commute, a solitary, late night drive down the Interstate is a singular, utilitarian effort.  As a parent, a relative or a friend you’re bathed in darkness behind the wheel for circumstantial reasons. Sober reasons.

And yet that all-encompassing darkness ‘neath the dash is much the same as it was when you were in your teens (younger, perhaps than your kids are now!), when the solo late-night experience was fresh and anything but sobering with the whoosh of the wind amplified against the windows, the headlight-lanced highway straight ahead, the scent of dew through the vents and stale coffee in a discarded cup somewhere on the floor.

That “joyride era” for many of us occurred a handful of years after the Eisenhower Administration’s final push for high-speed roadways.  Suddenly metropolises everywhere seemed to be surrounded by four-lane beltways, allowing one to simply drive, with no destination and no particular purpose but to “motor-vate” onwards…with the radio on.

Which is another reason why I’ve long felt a kindredship with Jonathan Richman.  That and the fact that although he was born a number of years earlier than me (1951), we each first saw the light of day at Leonard Morse Hospital in Natick, Massachusetts. Richman wrote today’s selection in 1970, at about the same time that he formed his band, The Modern Lovers.

Decades later a journalist with The Guardian (an excellent British daily) wrote about her attempt to visit all the places mentioned in the various recorded versions of “Roadrunner” (and there are many), including the Stop & Shop and Howard Johnson’s in Natick, Rt. 128, the Mass ‘Pike, Deer Island, Quincy, Cohasset and the Prudential Tower (not all mentioned in this version), referring to it as “one of the most magical songs in existence.”

Others have also had success with the song, including the Sex Pistols as part of “The Great Rock & Roll Swindle” soundtrack; and it’s high praise indeed when that erudite, sophisticated aficionado, Johnny Rotten opines that he hates all music, except for “Roadrunner”

 LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Friday 20 April

1969 Plymouth “Gold Duster” somewhere between San Francisco and Atlanta.
Late at night on the Interstate and AM all the way.

Roadrunner

One two three four five six!

Roadrunner, roadrunner

Going faster miles an hour

Gonna’ drive past the Stop ‘n’ Shop

With the radio on

I’m in love with Massachusetts

And the neon when it’s cold outside

And the highway when it’s late at night

Got the radio on

I’m like the roadrunner

Alright

I’m in love with modern moonlight

128 when it’s dark outside

I’m in love with Massachusetts

I’m in love with the radio on

It helps me from being alone late at night

It helps me from being lonely late at night

I don’t feel so bad now in the car

Don’t feel so alone, got the radio on

Like the roadrunner

That’s right

 Said welcome to the spirit of 1956

Patient in the bushes next to ’57

The highway is your girlfriend as you go by quick

Suburban trees, suburban speed

And it smells like heaven

 I say roadrunner once

Roadrunner twice

I’m in love with rock & roll and I’ll be out all night

Roadrunner

That’s right

 Well now

Roadrunner, roadrunner

Going faster miles an hour

Gonna’ drive to the Stop ‘n’ Shop

With the radio on at night

And me in love with modern moonlight

 Me in love with modern rock & roll

Modern girls and modern rock & roll

Don’t feel so alone, got the radio on

Like the roadrunner

OK now you sing Modern Lovers

(Radio On!)

 I got the AM

 (Radio On!)

 Got the car, got the AM

 (Radio On!)

 Got the AM sound, got the

(Radio On!)

 Got the rockin’ modern neon sound

(Radio On!)

I got the car from Massachusetts, got the

(Radio On!)

 I got the power of Massachusetts when it’s late at night

 (Radio On!)

 I got the modern sounds of modern Massachusetts

 I’ve got the world, got the Turnpike, got the

I’ve got the, got the power of the AM

 Got the, late at night, rock & roll late at night

 The factories and the auto signs got the power of modern sounds

Alright

 Bye bye

Here’s Mr. and Mrs. Bramlett, aka. Delaney & Bonnie, husband and wife, songster and songstress. Born in 1939 in Pontiac County, Mississippi, Delaney moved to Los Angeles when he was 20 and became a session musician on the TV series, “Shindig”.  Bonnie (née Bonnie Lynn O’Farrell), who was born in 1944 in Alton, Illinois, was an accomplished singer by the time she was 15, when she became the first-ever white “Ikette” wearing a black wig and “Man Tan” skin darkener for the Ike & Tina Turner Revue.  She moved to L.A. in 1967, and that’s where she met and married Delaney.

Within a few years Delaney & Bonnie had some marginally recognizable names contributing to their Rock and Soul revue, including: Leon Russell (of course, that guy was everywhere), Rita Coolidge, Gram Parsons, Dave Mason, both Gregg and Duane Allman, King Curtis, George Harrison (using the pseudonym “Angelo Mysterioso”  it was Delaney who showed him how to play slide guitar) and their good friend, Eric Clapton, who once said,  “Delaney taught me everything I know about singing.”

Clapton took the Delaney & Bonnie ensemble on the road in 1969 as the opening act for Blind Faith, preferring their music to his own band’s. “For me, going on after Delaney & Bonnie was really, really tough, because I thought they were miles better than us,” said Clapton who continued to record and tour with them after the break up of Blind Faith.  They also toured with Janis Joplin, the Band and the Grateful Dead.

Known as a fine collaborative songwriter, Bonnie is co-credited with writing “Superstar” (that Carpenters hit) with Leon Russell, “Let it Rain” with Eric Clapton and today’s selection with her husband, Delaney Bramlett. Reaching Number 67 on the Billboard Singles Chart, “Never Ending Song of Love” was included on their 1971 album, “Motel Shot” which was mainly recorded “live” in the studio with acoustic instruments, a concept that pre-dated the “Unplugged” trend by decades.

 LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Thursday 19 APRIL

Never Ending Song of Love

I’ve got a never-ending love for you

From now on that’s all I wanna do

From the first time we met I knew

I’d have never ending love for you

I’ve got a never ending love for you

From now on, that’s all I wanna do

From the first time we met I knew

I’d have a never ending love for you

 After all this time of being alone

We can love one another

Feel for each other

From now on

 It’s so good I can hardly stand it

Never ending love for you

From now on that’s all I wanna do

From the first we met I knew

I’d sing my never ending song of love for you

do do do do do do do do do do do do do do do….

 After all this time of being alone

We can love one another

Feel for each other

From now on

It’s so good I can hardly stand it

 Never ending love for you

From now on that’s all I wanna do

From the first we met I knew

I’d sing my never ending song of love for you

 I’ve got a never ending love for you

From now on that’s all I wanna do

From the first time we met I knew

I’d sing my never ending song of love for you

It’s Linda’s birthday, but (ever the sensible one) my wife does not like her picture posted, especially if it’s candid.  So I strategically chose the photo you see here, taken near the Herefordshire border, one April evening in 1986.  We were all on our way for some drinks at The Lion in Lentwardine, having just had some post-Point-to-Point drinks at Rad and Jen’s.  A Point-to-Point is basically a rural English steeplechase where betting (and yes the occasional drink) is warmly encouraged.

That’s Jules (there to the left) in the back seat of an Austin miniMetro five-door hatchback, along with Squiff the dog, our Linda, Giles (Emerson) and Giles’ then brother-in-law, Mike settling in on top.  Rad and Jen sat in the front passenger seat and – tellingly – I drove; presumably as I had least to lose (as a then-city dweller) if I lost my license.

That’s right, seven people and a Springer spaniel in a car built for four…and that British license is still valid to this day. I will state right here that Linda had little say in the matter (some way to woo a girl, eh?) but even though we’d just started dating I knew something then that has held true for decades (beyond her charm, wit and beauty of course) and that’s that my better half’s favorite song is Brown Eyed Girl.

Released as a single in 1967, and featuring the Sweet Inspirations on back-up vocals, today’s selection reached Number 10 on the U.S. Billboard Charts and is widely recognized as Van Morrison’s signature song. And yet because he hastily signed a solo recording contract without legal advice (his band, “Them” had just broken up) he fell prey to a penurious royalty agreement.  Couple that with “highly creative accounting” and Morrison claims never to have received any royalties for writing and recording the song. Nor is it among his favorites. “It’s not one of my best,” he once maintained.  “I mean I’ve got about 300 songs that I think are better.”

I know one person who doesn’t agree with him, and she’s not alone.  In the past 45 years Brown Eyed Girl has been covered by hundreds of bands and has earned a great deal of acclaim for the Belfast native, including plaques in both the Grammy Hall of Fame and The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as well as elite positions on the BMI and the RIAA Greatest Songs of the Century lists.  All of which makes it easy to “remember when (especially on Linda’s birthday) we used to sing…..”

 LISTEN TO TODAY’S BIRTHDAY SELECTION – Wednesday 18 April

Brown Eyed Girl

Hey, where did we go

Days when the rains came?

Down in the hollow

Playin’ a new game

 Laughin’ and a-runnin’, hey hey

Skippin’ and a-jumpin’

In the misty mornin’ fog

With our, our hearts a-thumpin’

 And you, my brown eyed girl

You my brown eyed girl

And whatever happened

To Tuesday and so slow

Going down the old mine

With a transistor radio

 Standin’ in the sunlight laughin’

Hidin’ behind a rainbow’s wall

Slippin’ and a-slidin’

All along the waterfall

With you, my brown eyed girl

You my brown eyed girl

 Do you remember when

We used to sing?

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da

Just like that

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da

La te da

So hard to find my way

Now that I’m all on my own

I saw you just the other day

My, how you have grown

 Cast my memory back there Lord

Sometimes I’m overcome thinkin’ ’bout it

Makin’ love in the green grass

Behind the stadium

With you, my brown eyed girl

You my brown eyed girl

 Do you remember when

We used to sing?

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da

(Lyin’ in the green grass!)

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da

(Bit by bit by bit by bit by bit by bit)

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da

(Sha la la la la, la la la la, la te da, la te da, la te da, da da da)

Sha la la, la la, la la, la la, l-la te da

There’s no actual time written on the official Statement of Live Birth, which (unnervingly) is in my handwriting (that’s how it’s done in the Province of Ontario) so I’ll have to rely on recollection in saying that he was born at around 01:30, the morning of Wednesday 17 April 1991 at Women’s College Hospital in Toronto.

After receiving stellar advice we’d brought a cooler to the delivery room with sandwiches (for the waiting father), beer (ostensibly for the post-partum mother to help with lactation) and champagne for all participants, except the doctor…and the baby.  We also brought pillows, a telephone, playing cards and a cassette player.

Other than the cards, (just couldn’t get a game going) all else came in handy because it…took…a…long…time (hours and hours) for those final centimeters of dilation. Although Linda wasn’t eating much besides Lime Jello, I eventually availed myself of the sandwiches, and the beer too (he started out lactose intolerant in any event). After which I made use of the phone. We knew there was a betting pool about the baby’s birth amongst members of the family so I called to lock in my bet.  I know, that’s “insider knowledge,” but I never collected in the end.

Midnight came and went and as Linda had enough pillows, thank you, I availed myself of the ones from home and we dozed a bit with Puccini on the cassette player. Then came “Um, honey, you’d better get the doctor,” and everything happened in a flash.  I held Linda’s hand and worked on the rhythmic breathing (nearly hyperventilating and passing out due to the surgical mask I was wearing) and Giles was born with the Aria from Madame Butterfly playing in the background.

Soon the cork was popped (we left most of the bottle for the grateful nurses who were having a slow night), phone calls were made to expectant grandparents and it was time for mother and baby to get some rest…and father to go home.  By now it was nearly 03:00 a.m. and while stopped at a red light on Bay Street I saw a homeless fellow asleep on a subway grate, so I leapt out of my car and handed him a $5 bill.  Next block same thing. On this day, it seemed important for everyone to be happy, if only just a little bit.

In later years Giles and I would learn how to snowboard together.  Eventually he got really good while I was ordered by my eye specialists to revert to skiing (after lots of surgery, “no falling allowed”) but today’s selection was the song we liked to sing together back in the earlier, free-falling stages.  That it has a more literal meaning that might be applicable to a 21 year old college kid in New Orleans is beside the point.

Written and recorded by the British band Chumbawumba, Tubthumping was released on their 1997 album of the same name.  It peaked at Number 2 on the UK Singles Charts and Number 6 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100. That sampled monologue at the very beginning is the late Pete Postlewaite in the 1996 film, Brassed Off.

Happy Birthday, Old Man.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Tuesday 17 April

Tubthumping

 The truth is, I thought it mattered

I thought that music mattered

But does it? Bollocks! Not compared to how people matter

(We’ll be singing, when we’re winning, we’ll be singing)

 I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

(Pissing the night away, pissing the night away)

He drinks a whisky drink, he drinks a vodka drink

He drinks a lager drink, he drinks a cider drink

He sings the songs that remind him of the good times

He sings the songs that remind him of the best times

(Oh Danny Boy, Danny Boy, Danny Boy)

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

(Pissing the night away, pissing the night away)

He drinks a whisky drink, he drinks a vodka drink

He drinks a lager drink, he drinks a cider drink

He sings the songs that remind him of the good times

He sings the songs that remind him of the best times

(Don’t cry for me, next door neighbour)

 I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down, but I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

 I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up agai

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

 I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

 I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

 I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (When we’re winning)

I get knocked down

(We’ll be singing)

But I get up again

(Pissing the night away)

You’re never gonna keep me down

 (Ooh)

In Massachusetts and Maine (once part of Massachusetts) Patriot’s Day is observed on the third Monday in April. Providing many with a three-day weekend, it commemorates the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the start of the American Revolution, which took place on 19 April 1775.

You’ll forgive my obvious bias, but though there was a British barrage on Lexington Green (its catalyst unknown) at around 5:00 a.m. resulting in the deaths of eight colonists, the actual shot immortalized by Emerson took place in Concord later that morning when (for the first time) colonial militiamen fought back, routing the King’s troops  “…by the rude bridge that arched the flood, their flag to April’s breeze unfurled, here once the embattled farmers stood, and fired the shot heard round the world.”

Today, Patriots Day features reenactments of the call to arms by Paul Revere and William Dawes, along with an early morning parade and reenactment in Lexington and a (more traditional) parade and reenactment in Concord that starts at 09:00.  At 11:00 the Red Sox throw the first pitch in a game at Fenway Park and (until recently) the Boston Marathon began at noon.  As a matter of fact one year (1999) Giles and I caught the parade in Concord, made it to Fenway in time to watch the Sox beat the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, and then managed to make it out to Kenmore Square in time to watch the winners of the Boston Marathon run down Commonwealth Avenue.

In our house Patriots Day also occurs at around the same time as Linda’s birthday (18 April) and Giles’ birthday (17 April). It seems like only a year or two ago that I made a CD of songs for Giles on his 15^th birthday, that included today’s selection and the lines: I’m fifteen for a moment, caught between ten and twenty…etc.”  Please highlight that “for a moment” reference.

Today’s song was written and recorded by John Ondrasik, aka Five for Fighting.  Born in 1965 in Los Angeles, Ondrasik learned the piano as a child and later the guitar.  As a teen he began to write music and, after graduating from UCLA with a degree in Applied Science and Mathematics adopted a stage name that’s familiar to every hockey fan, “five for fighting” i.e. the five-minute penalty a player receives for fighting.

Most famous for “Superman (It’s Not Easy)” which became an unofficial anthem after the September 11 attacks, today’s song, was included on Five for Fighting’s 2003 album, The Battle for Everything and held the Number One position on the Billboard Adult Contemporary Tracks chart for 12 non-consecutive weeks in 2004.

It may feel like a year or two ago that Giles turned 15, but (“another blink of an eye?”) tomorrow he turns 21.  To paraphrase Five for Fighting (fitting name for a Patriot’s Day), the sun certainly seems to be getting a little higher ‘round here…and like these “British Regulars” time itself sees to be moving on….

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Patriot’s Day 16 April

 100 Years Lyrics

I’m fifteen for a moment

Caught in between ten and twenty

And I’m just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are

I’m twenty two for a moment

She feels better than ever

And we’re on fire

Making our way back from Mars

Fifteen there’s still time for you

Time to buy and time to lose

Fifteen, there’s never a wish better than this

When you only got hundred years to live

I’m thirty three for a moment

Still the man, but you see I’m of age

A kid on the way

A family on my mind

I’m forty five for a moment

The sea is high

And I’m heading into a crisis

Chasing the years of my life

Fifteen there’s still time for you

Time to buy, time to lose yourself

Within a morning star

Fifteen I’m all right with you

Fifteen, there’s never a wish better than this

When you only got hundred years to live

Half time goes by

Suddenly you’re wise

Another blink of an eye

Sixty seven is gone

The sun is getting high

We’re moving on

I’m ninety nine for a moment

Dying for just another moment

And I’m just dreaming

Counting the ways to where you are

Fifteen there’s still time for you

Twenty two I feel her too

Thirty three you’re on your way

Every day’s a new day

Fifteen there’s still time for you

Time to buy and time to choose

Hey fifteen, there’s never a wish better than this

When you only got hundred years to live

I was out doing yard work while listening to some music on my iPhone when today’s selection came around, and immediately I was transported to another place and another, very nearly forgotten, Sunday morning. Ever have that happen?

It was 1981 and I’m pretty sure that it was May 25, the Sunday before Memorial Day, which provided a much cherished “two day weekend” away from the Negev Airbase Constructors and especially away from the QC Lab. A friend and I had slept out under the stars in a meadow near Tiberius, overlooking the Sea of Galilee and were making the two-hour journey back to her home in Ramat Aviv, a suburb of Tel Aviv.

I had to dig through a few old photo albums to figure out exactly what kind of car we rented that day and as best I can figure it was a boxy Peugeot 305 “four door saloon” known to clutch grinders everywhere for its “durable gearbox.”  Unfortunately the photos also testify to a ridiculous look sported by yours truly, which included a scraggly beard and a khaki tembel (bucket) hat. Add in a pair of teardrop sunglasses and a pipe (these were pipe smoking days) and you have a general idea of what drew the attention of those in the “deuce and a half” army truck ahead of us.

You see, while my friend slept in the passenger seat I became entranced by a cassette of Strauss waltzes. Perhaps it was the music, perhaps the nicotine from the pipe tobacco, most likely it was simply because it was a beautiful morning in that bucolic, green, northern countryside and I was happy to be alive.

But I distinctly recall “grooving” to the music, slightly swaying along with the steering wheel…back and forth…and taking great pleasure in the moment…and then slowly becoming aware of the truckload of laughing Israeli soldiers lifting up the back canvas to get a good look at…me, the silly swaying driver with a pipe in his mouth.

Chalk it up to An der schönen blauen Donau, Op. 314 (aka The Blue Danube), composed in 1866 by Johann Strauss II, a paean to Europe’s second longest river (after the Volga) that flows majestically for nearly 1,800 miles through ten countries (and four capital cities: Vienna, Bratislava, Budapest and Belgrade).

Recognized as one of the great classical pieces it was only marginally successful when first performed at an 1867 concert of the Vienna Men’s Choral Association. But by the time Strauss’s stepdaughter asked Johannes Brahms for his autograph a number of years later the great composer wrote down the first few bars of The Blue Danube and added “Leider nicht von Johannes Brahms” (“Alas! Not by Johannes Brahms”). The world had caught up.

As for my friend and me, we made it. I’d ordered some (lace-up) roller skates through the Spiegel Catalogue and once back in Ramat Aviv we went roller-skating.  It was a great time, and a great time of life… goofy hat, shadow and all.

LISTEN TO TODAY’S SELECTION – Sunday 15 April