SF Examiner, May 26, 2003
Memorial Day isn't so much a day of remembrance but an occasion to remind us to remember. It seems strange these days to stop and be quiet for a while -- let alone to be pensive and allow ourselves to drift from the business at hand. "Memorial Day is such a weird holiday," someone said yesterday. "I'm not sure what to do. Are we supposed to have a good time or what?" I know that I am allowed to write in a newspaper about who is and who isn't having a good time because someone gave up his good times for my right to do so. Memorial Day is a day of gratitude. I am grateful.
It's also a day to recall that our struggles as a nation never end. This country is in about as much trouble today as it has ever been in my lifetime. I am worried this country has lost its way because it seems to have lost its ability to stop -- on this Memorial Day and every other day -- to ponder what we are really doing in the world. We have lost any sense of critical thinking. We have risen, quickly, to become the most powerful nation in the world. This is not like winning the World Cup. It doesn't call for a victory party. It only means we have to be careful, responsible, compassionate and generous. Or we will lose it all just as quickly as we gained it. My brother used to say to me when I was a kid, "We Americans are the most generous people in the world." For most of my life, I believed it. I'm sorry to say it is not true. Most of the world lives in horrific poverty and misery. In terms of the size of our economy, we rank last in the amount of foreign assistance, compared to the wealthier nations. We spend and spend on the military. We treat our veterans abysmally. Our leaders lack vision, we race into Iraq without having a plan to deal with the post-war mishegoss there. But who knows about it? The TV networks have gone home. The Laci Petersen case looms. ...
An inexplicable thing happened in the months before the war in Iraq. Americans were whispering about how the war would be good for the economy. The perversity of such a thing is stunning. It's -- dare I say?-- un-American. Where is the America that stood on a moral ground? Lives for petro-dollars? I know. I know. I'm naive. ...
The economy is the elephant in middle of the living room. Its deterioration seems like a threat to national security to me. The government sits at the head of the table in an enormous dysfunctional family. When I hear about Homeland Security and "heightened alerts," I think the alarm should be rung for the Oakland City Schools -- and for the rest of our schools. To let our schools collapse is suicide. Let's not argue about prayer in the classroom. Let's make sure we have classrooms. The Founding Fathers were fond of the term, "posterity." We don't know posterity from our posteriors. ...
We might want to teach our children that war is not noble. A Viet Nam War vet on Market St,. said, "Nobody wants to ask me about war -- I might tell them the truth." I wonder sometimes if there are any governments at all. In Paddy Chayevsky's "Network," Arthur Jensen, the TV mogul played by Ned Beatty, blusters,"There is no America, There is no democracy. There is only IBM and ITT and AT&T ..." And maybe Bechtel ... That would be an awkward Pledge of Allegiance, no? Does a young soldier really want to die for the stockholders?
Love of country is too important to be left to the politicians. The other night Greg Jarrett, the KGO Radio reporter captivated a group of pals at Lefty O'Doul's with stories of his experiences with the Marines' "Purple Foxes" in Iraq. Greg said, "I have never seen such decency in my life. These enlisted men and women were so dedicated, so selfless. They spoke so movingly of their families, of their hometowns, of their friends, of their dreams. I came away so impressed. It gives me a faith in the goodness of people."
I'd like to think about that on Memorial Day. Harry Miles Muheim, who worked in Naval Intelligence in World War II and was a speech writer for Jimmy Carter, said to me recently, "In the end we have to remember that we all have an effect on others -- much more than we possibly know." It is how we will be remembered. As people and as a nation. If you go out to the Presidio National Cemetery today and not get a lump in your throat during the ceremonies, you have no heart. Yes, it is a weird holiday. A day to be grateful. There are rows and rows of unquiet graves there. You'd think with the passing of generations, there would be fewer and fewer reasons to have Memorial Days. But there is the relentless return of war, of sacrifice, of sorrow. With all this remembering, why do we keep forgetting?
Monday, May 26, 2003
Friday, May 02, 2003
A Man Alone
Bellingham column, San Francisco Examiner, May 2, 2003.
TIMES SQUARE, N.Y. -- FRIDAY, MAY 2 -- Time and space got a little distorted for me here in New York City on Wednesday night. At Carnegie Hall, Oakland-born Rod McKuen, the troubadour of San Francisco's 1960s Summer of Love, was on stage, in trademark white sweater, still bearded and still prophetic. But his admonitions about keeping the faith and following the heart weren't only directed at the young. "I'm not so much a senior citizen," he said in his unmistakable foggy voice. "I'm a seasoned citizen. And here is my advice: never give up." Backed by a small orchestra, Rod was celebrating his 70th birthday with a concert for a few friends. 2,600 of them. ... Among the celebrants, many famed divas: Bernadette Peters ... Roberta Peters ... Marilyn Horne ... Beverly Sills ... the expatriated Australian songstress, Lana Cantrell ... Keely Smith ... and perhaps most amazing, Licia Albanese, the opera star famous for her haunting portrayals of Violetta in "La Traviata." She will be 90 in July. ... Comedian Bill Maher, who has a one-man show running on Broadway, also dropped by to say hello. ...
Why does Rod McKuen draw so many singing legends to him? "I tend to gravitate toward talented people and they seem to respond," he says, almost obsequiously. "It amazes me," said Charles Ashman, McKuen's longtime friend and producer. "Half of the people who bought tickets are under 50. Rod has this incredible ability to reach across generations." ... Beth Anne Cox came to N.Y. from McBaine, Mich., to see Rod McKuen sing -- or recite. "It is the lovely quality of his lyrics that has transformed my life," she said on the sidewalk on a cool, pleasant evening outside Shelly's New York Restaurant on W. 57th Street. This is where the after-show gathering was held. "Tonight is my birthday, as well," Beth Anne smiled. "I think I made it to 43, in some ways, due to the message Rod sends. I suffered betrayal and a bitter Divorce but I will press on on my own, relying on myself. I've gone back to school. I'm getting a Ph.D. in English." ...
There were fans from China ... Japan ... Australia ... Israel. ... Carolanne Hough, from Savannah, is doing her best to get Rod McKuen to come to her town for the Johnny Mercer festivities. Ann Martin got a sitter for her poodle back in Lubbock, Texas, so she could make the New York trip. "I get a sitter for the poodle and the poodle sits the cat," she drawled. ... The talented and exuberant singer/composer Patricia Watson winged in from Maui. David Galligan, the director who has worked on many McKuen projects, will direct Patricia's rock opera, "Soulmates," in Honolulu. Rod McKuen takes the role of a priest. "The true poet for me," said Flaubert," is the priest." ...
Perhaps the greatest homage offered by priestly poet McKuen was the paean to San Francisco. He broke away from the songs to recite, "In a little room on Stanyan Street." There was a deep hush in the house. "It was Rod's poetry that lured me to San Francisco," said Teri Sherrow, an international real estate agent. Rod McKuen may talk of the soul as an island. Teri actually sells them. Islands, not souls. "You have to understand what it was like for a young girl filled with imagination, living in Pueblo, Colorado," she recalled. "Planes would fly overhead and I would dream about S.F. It was all from Rod McKuen's records and his poems. The place sounded so magical. He is the reason I moved to Sausalito and stayed for 15 years. He would talk about Sausalito ... and Stanyan Street." ... It must have been all those airliners flying over the house. Teri became a flight attendant and saw a world beyond Pueblo. McKuen's Web site is called "Flight Plan." ...
"Carnegie Hall means a lot to me," McKuen said, explaining his choice of venue. "It was after a Carnegie Hall show that I was introduced to Sinatra. He asked me to write an album for him -- 'A Man Alone.' Sinatra had never asked anyone to write a whole album for him. My life was changed forever that night." ... "A Man Alone" is the perfect Sinatra vehicle but it likely reveals more about the poet's psyche. McKuen, A Man Alone, speaks more openly these days about the chronic depression that disabled him. "I was in a bit of funk," he says ruefully. "A funk that lasted 10 years." ...
McKuen is working with Hewlett-Packard on a concert tour, to engage older people and encourage them not to be afraid of computer technology. Or anything else. "If your kids are being a real pain," McKuen advises, "then just overlook them when you e-mail your grandchildren." After the show, a cheerful mob poured into Shelly's to nosh on sweets and have champagne. I think he invited everyone. Hundreds lined up for hours to say hello and wish him a good birthday. It was 1 o'clock in the morning before McKuen had signed the last autograph and posed for the last picture. No one went away unhappy. The memories were galvanized. The sweet, tormented voice of Rod McKuen was restored. Stanyan Street was beatified. On Wednesday, in New York City, The Man Alone certainly was not alone. ..."
TIMES SQUARE, N.Y. -- FRIDAY, MAY 2 -- Time and space got a little distorted for me here in New York City on Wednesday night. At Carnegie Hall, Oakland-born Rod McKuen, the troubadour of San Francisco's 1960s Summer of Love, was on stage, in trademark white sweater, still bearded and still prophetic. But his admonitions about keeping the faith and following the heart weren't only directed at the young. "I'm not so much a senior citizen," he said in his unmistakable foggy voice. "I'm a seasoned citizen. And here is my advice: never give up." Backed by a small orchestra, Rod was celebrating his 70th birthday with a concert for a few friends. 2,600 of them. ... Among the celebrants, many famed divas: Bernadette Peters ... Roberta Peters ... Marilyn Horne ... Beverly Sills ... the expatriated Australian songstress, Lana Cantrell ... Keely Smith ... and perhaps most amazing, Licia Albanese, the opera star famous for her haunting portrayals of Violetta in "La Traviata." She will be 90 in July. ... Comedian Bill Maher, who has a one-man show running on Broadway, also dropped by to say hello. ...
Why does Rod McKuen draw so many singing legends to him? "I tend to gravitate toward talented people and they seem to respond," he says, almost obsequiously. "It amazes me," said Charles Ashman, McKuen's longtime friend and producer. "Half of the people who bought tickets are under 50. Rod has this incredible ability to reach across generations." ... Beth Anne Cox came to N.Y. from McBaine, Mich., to see Rod McKuen sing -- or recite. "It is the lovely quality of his lyrics that has transformed my life," she said on the sidewalk on a cool, pleasant evening outside Shelly's New York Restaurant on W. 57th Street. This is where the after-show gathering was held. "Tonight is my birthday, as well," Beth Anne smiled. "I think I made it to 43, in some ways, due to the message Rod sends. I suffered betrayal and a bitter Divorce but I will press on on my own, relying on myself. I've gone back to school. I'm getting a Ph.D. in English." ...
There were fans from China ... Japan ... Australia ... Israel. ... Carolanne Hough, from Savannah, is doing her best to get Rod McKuen to come to her town for the Johnny Mercer festivities. Ann Martin got a sitter for her poodle back in Lubbock, Texas, so she could make the New York trip. "I get a sitter for the poodle and the poodle sits the cat," she drawled. ... The talented and exuberant singer/composer Patricia Watson winged in from Maui. David Galligan, the director who has worked on many McKuen projects, will direct Patricia's rock opera, "Soulmates," in Honolulu. Rod McKuen takes the role of a priest. "The true poet for me," said Flaubert," is the priest." ...
Perhaps the greatest homage offered by priestly poet McKuen was the paean to San Francisco. He broke away from the songs to recite, "In a little room on Stanyan Street." There was a deep hush in the house. "It was Rod's poetry that lured me to San Francisco," said Teri Sherrow, an international real estate agent. Rod McKuen may talk of the soul as an island. Teri actually sells them. Islands, not souls. "You have to understand what it was like for a young girl filled with imagination, living in Pueblo, Colorado," she recalled. "Planes would fly overhead and I would dream about S.F. It was all from Rod McKuen's records and his poems. The place sounded so magical. He is the reason I moved to Sausalito and stayed for 15 years. He would talk about Sausalito ... and Stanyan Street." ... It must have been all those airliners flying over the house. Teri became a flight attendant and saw a world beyond Pueblo. McKuen's Web site is called "Flight Plan." ...
"Carnegie Hall means a lot to me," McKuen said, explaining his choice of venue. "It was after a Carnegie Hall show that I was introduced to Sinatra. He asked me to write an album for him -- 'A Man Alone.' Sinatra had never asked anyone to write a whole album for him. My life was changed forever that night." ... "A Man Alone" is the perfect Sinatra vehicle but it likely reveals more about the poet's psyche. McKuen, A Man Alone, speaks more openly these days about the chronic depression that disabled him. "I was in a bit of funk," he says ruefully. "A funk that lasted 10 years." ...
McKuen is working with Hewlett-Packard on a concert tour, to engage older people and encourage them not to be afraid of computer technology. Or anything else. "If your kids are being a real pain," McKuen advises, "then just overlook them when you e-mail your grandchildren." After the show, a cheerful mob poured into Shelly's to nosh on sweets and have champagne. I think he invited everyone. Hundreds lined up for hours to say hello and wish him a good birthday. It was 1 o'clock in the morning before McKuen had signed the last autograph and posed for the last picture. No one went away unhappy. The memories were galvanized. The sweet, tormented voice of Rod McKuen was restored. Stanyan Street was beatified. On Wednesday, in New York City, The Man Alone certainly was not alone. ..."
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