A Little Kinder

In a time of potential rebirth, thanks to our recent election, I would like to tell a short story about a friend of mine and a friend of his. Ira Sandperl, my friend, had an almost elfin look- with short grey hair and wire rim glasses. He used to work behind the counter at Kepler’s Books in Menlo Park, CA. These days one might assume he was just some retiree who was picking up a little extra cash with a partime job. Quiet and unassuming, with the look of the old school intellectual, he was the perfect image of Keplers.
Keplers Books was once the center of a cultural revolution. During the sixties it was a haven for free thinkers and progressive politics. It even had it’s own university, where anyone could sign up to teach a course (or take one) in whatever interested them. It was even bombed a few times by the reactionaries of the times. Bullet-proof windows were installed at one point. The store is still there- even though it has had to face the onslaught of the book superstores- but Ira is gone, as is the era that spawned this story. Now it looks a bit too much like the upscale town it is in. But I'm sure interesting things are still happening there, and always will be.
I spent a lot of my youth combing through the isles at the "old" Keplers. I met some very interesting people there too. During a particularly low point for me- a girlfriend had gone her own way- I sought higher wisdom and comfort in the self-help books. At the checkout counter, I looked into the bright blue eyes of a little man who would have made a great double for Karl Marx or some other socialist rebel, with his herring bone coat with the leather patches on the elbows, the day old beard and those granny glasses. I had seen him many times before but we had never talked.
This time he asked, “Are you alright?” Had I not been in such a vulnerable state, I probably would have just blown it off- in a nice way of course- but this time I was completely taken by his insight. “Not really,” I answered, and then I started to tell him of my woes. (Coincidentally, I must add that there was a young woman working there at the time with bright blue eyes who also took an interest in me, as I did in her, but that is another story.) Well, to make a long story a little shorter, I found out that Ira was a man of much deeper and profound thoughts and feelings than most people would have figured by just looking at him. But that is the case oftentimes, isn’t it.
Ira, as it turned out, was a good friend of Martin Luther King. He was also a kind of mentor to Joan Baez, the folksinger, as well as a founder of one of the largest and most influential peace organizations ever created. He was square in the middle of a cultural shift, playing on an all-star team, working on realizing the dream of a better world. Ira had another dream, too. He wanted to move to France and open his own bookstore and café. He was saving up for it, little by little. I had that same dream too, at one time. It's nice to share a dream. Were there more dreams in those days? So it gradually became a time of rebirth and optimism for both of us. I had hit bottom and, as it so often happens for me, I had opened my heart in that state and found new friendship and inspiration.
Ira had also written a book called “A Little Kinder,” which was a story of his mentoring of Joan Baez, who was in her teens at the time. It was basically a reading list of the peace movement, from the beginning of history to the present day. He gave me a copy. That was fascinating enough, but there was a personal story that Ira told me that has stayed with me from that time.
It seems that he and MLK were spending the night in jail after particularly long day of marching, fire hoses, attack dogs, rocks, bottles and police batons. This was in the deep south- either Birmingham or Memphis, I don’t remember. They had spent years traveling the road to freedom and brotherhood and taken a beating doing it. As they lay in their bunks for the night, Ira asked MLK, in the light of all that he had been through, what advice he would give people- what advice would sort of sum up what we should be doing to advance the cause of peace and higher consciousness. I think you can picture this scene. We have all been there at one time or another.
Martin said, “Well, I think we could all just be a little kinder to one another.” It is often the simple things that amaze us the most. MLK, destined soon to leave this earth, showed grace under fire. If you happen to see the film of him speaking the night before he was shot, it seems like he almost knew what was coming. Of course he had lived with the idea for a long time. Martin dreamed the big dream and brought us along.
Ira, I am told, managed to live out his dream too. As unlikely as it sounds, he did put together the money to go to France and open up his café. I was glad to hear ths, although sometimes I think it may only be part of a legend of the times. It doesn't matter to me. Thanks, Ira.

Mozart and Me

(Recently I responded to posts on one of the horn forums about Mozart and whether people like his music or not. This starts with a response to whether or not Mozart was part of the aristocracy of the time and if his music was somehow "undemocratic" because of this. Other subjects come up as I go along.)
I think Mozart's time put practically all composers in touch with or in control of the aristocracy if only to survive. He was certainly a prime example of that. That he was part of the aristocracy or that his music is somehow undemocratic is very problematic at best, just totally off base at worse. Mozart loved the "common" life and his associations with the local musical theater crowd and his "partying" bely any desire to be an aristocrat or even hang out with them at all. If you need any more, just check out Marriage of Figarro, Magic Flute and Cosi fan Tutti. These are not pandering to the aristocracy. Just the opposite.
He was as pure a musician as ever lived- just wired for it. Music flowed from his veins. His lack of ability to exist financially in the real world of his time, by sucking up to the powers that were. probably cost him his life. Hacks like Salieri, who did sell out to the aristocracy, did a lot better with money.
Whether you like Mozart or not is strictly personal taste. I had the opportunity to run (and play in) a Mozart festival for 22 years. Yes, I started it with an oboist friend and a fabulous Mozart conductor, George Cleve, and we had a 41 piece, hand-picked orchestra that played 4 -6 concert sets every summer. We also did chamber music, benefit concerts and things like concerts at wineries and other interesting locations. On the evening of the 200th anniversary of his death, we were one of a very few orchestras in the world who had a concert going, the Requiem and the Masonic Funeral Music, at the stroke of midnight. It was a magical time. I was immersed in Mozart, one of my favorite composers, for all of those years.
In that time we played over 350 works of Mozart. In most of those years our concerts were "all Mozart" concerts. Its interesting how you can take his works and structure a whole concert or a whole season. One of our most compelling concerts was to play the last three symphonies on one program. It sold out every time and was quite an experience to play and listen to. Talk about "punch" and "emotional outpouring". The variety is awesome. Sure, the music can sound the same to the uninitiated, but once you get inside it, you can put together a concert or a 4 week season that runs a wide emotional gamut. Its like being inside some else's brain- and heart, for that matter.
Of course it helps to have a great conductor. Cleve made the most of the music, dynamically and emotionally. We were not an early music group but we didn't go overboard to excess romanticism either. I've been bored or offended at Mozart concerts with other groups. Not with George. He hit a perfect balance.
Its interesting that some people find his music "too happy" or "too melopdic". Considering his life, that is very interesting. Yes, these are unhappy and emotionally dead times. We are dead to subtlety and nuance. We worship at the alter of the almighty dollar and "The Cult odf the Bottom Line". Mozart lets us see that dark side of life but he almost always wanted to end with an uplifting feeling. To me, this is a big part of his greatness. To explore all the facets of human existence, to fly in the face of depression and apathy and to ultimately set a path for higher consciousness, this is inspiring stuff.
As for melody, it is a fundamental part of human existence. People have been singing since time began. Elevating that to an art form can't be a bad thing- will never be a bad thing.
His orchestrations, which, again, seem simple, are incredibly subtle in their detail, especially for his time. All designed to build a pathway to emotional and musical satisfaction. Even the horn parts show his attention to detail and variety, never doing the same thing over and over on each cadence or phrase as some composers who followed him, like Rossini, who considered himself the "next Mozart", did routinely. Check out his use of the two horns in the 40th symphony for example- in two different keys to get the notes he wanted. He was also one of the first composers to use 4 horns and even used them as soloists in an early divertimento.
I don't care to take sides with anyone on these issues. I just count myself lucky that I had the chance to experience Mozart at this level for this length of time. His music is sublime, and considering the time and conditions in which he lived and the style of classical music that he was born into, he was as daring in his approach as anyone has composed since. Who knows what would have happened if he had lived another 30 years. Just listen to his last string quartet for some good country fiddlin'.
Mozart achieved success (or shall we say he was able to excel) in more styles of composing than anyone else. He wrote great symphonies, concertos, overtures, concert music of various sorts, masses, operas, chamber music including solo music for piano, religious works for organ and orchestra, other various combinations and popular dance music. (Want to hear some "early Brahms"? Just listen to the German Dances.) No other composer outside of Stravinsky ever achieved that and Stravinsky only managed to touch on all those areas, where Mozart lived in them.
The fact that he loved the horn only shows what a genius he was! : ) We are so lucky. Just ask the cello, viola and trumpet players. As for piano concertos, has anyone ever written any better? Try the C major (no. 21) and the great A major concerto (no. 23) for starters.
For those who are wondering, my other most favorite composer is Mahler, for many of the same reasons.

A Night on the Trail

Last June (2005), my friend Warren and I decided to take a little trip to Yosemite for a couple of days to do some photography. The falls were all going full tilt and things were in bloom. We had three days. Road trip!

For the last day we decided to hitch-hike up to the Tioga Pass Road, hike out to North Dome from Porcupine Creek and then go west to Yosemite Falls and finish by hiking down the Yosemite Falls trail to the car, which was parked in the Yosemite Lodge parking area. Not having hitchhiked in many years, I was worried that it might not be so easy nowadays, but I had made a sign out of cardboard from an all-night market the night before and we were resigned to taking a shot at it until it became clear that we would be too late to do the hike, which was about ten miles total.

We had been up in that area before but I did not have my present camera then, so I wanted to go back and get a couple of shots that I knew would be winners. This is basically the north rim over Yosemite Valley. Check out my trip there in the backpacking section for what happened the last time. So we stood out by the entrance to the falls for about an hour with our sign, feeling a bit foolish at times, but it was fun- a couple of aging hippies must have made quite a site. It was a beautiful day and despite a late start, we finally got a ride with a couple from back east who were visiting Yosemite for the first time. We left the trail head about one P.M.

The last time we did this trip was with backpacks, so the daypacks we had this time were much lighter and the trail went by pretty well. The first stop was the arch at Indian Rock where I got some good shots and Warren got some good ones of me after I climbed up to get the view I wanted. From there we went out toward North Dome to look for a shot that I wanted a "do-over" on with my new camera. North Dome is a great place to go. There are really unique views of Yosemite there and it isn't a bad hike at all.

Next we headed west along the trail to Yosemite falls, stopping to take pictures and generally just soaking up the beauty of the backcountry in Yosemite. Even though this is not far from the valley as the crow flies, you don't run into a lot of people up there. Its really nice. There are some wonderful vistas as you approach the falls area. On we went.

We reached the top of Yosemite Falls trail at dusk, around 6:15 PM. We rested for a minute or two and then we decided we should get moving and head down the trail to the valley floor. I had never been on that trail before and it was only 3 miles down to the valley from the top of the falls. It was June, almost the longest day of the year and 6;30 PM. No way we could not go 3 miles before dark. This was a day hike and the car was at the bottom- we did not have backpacks and overnight equipment so we had to go on. We had been out the night before until dark shooting somewhere else and we figured we had at least 2 to 2 and 1/2 hours, maybe more, of daylight left. 3 miles, all downhill, no problem. Well at least I thought that. Warren was a little worried. There was nobody left at the falls. WE wondered if a ranger had told everybody who wasn't camping up there to leave. The sun was still up though. You can do 3 miles in an hour at a brisk walk on level ground. This was downhill!

Well that was the slowest trail I have ever hiked downhill. Steep, tight switchbacks, cobblestones everywhere and slippery sections near the falls. I even slipped once and whacked my camera against a rock. You really had to watch your footing. Twisting an ankle was a real possibility. I was tired and I don't like downhill trails that much, its hard on my knees. So it was slow going, but even then, I stopped a few times to take pictures. Warren had gone ahead. He likes going downhill. The problem for him became that he hadn't brought his regular glasses, just his prescription sunglasses.

I caught up with him as the light failed near the top of the lower falls. I figured we were getting close to the bottom because the lower falls aren't that tall compared to the upper one. I figured a few switchbacks and we would be down in time for dinner. Warren surprised me a little at this point by saying he now needed me to lead him out because he couldn't see any more because of the sunglasses. (He doesn't see really well without glasses either.) He was also not sure we were still on the right trail anymore because it was now going uphill. Well, if you have seen Yosemite falls from a distance you know that it is a very steep drop from the top. It didn't seem possible that this trail would be going up for some distance and working its way west, away from the falls. It occurred to me that we had missed the trail down and were now on some connecting trail to the west. Fortunately, I had a map with me that at least showed the trail turning in the direction we were going. So on we went, slowly but surely.

I was pretty sure we were on the right trail, but I did take time from then on to check side trails to see if there was a shorter way down. So I would leave Warren and go check the trails. No luck, just incredible dropoffs from little viewpoints. This was probably the final nail in our coffins- wasted time looking for a faster way down. Finally, with darkness upon us, one of us basically blind, the trail still going uphill and us out of energy with no flashlights, we knew we were not going to make it out of there that night. We both had a really sinking feeling at that moment. The inevitability of the situation struck as like a punch in the stomach. Warren threw up. I felt dizzy. It was way after 9 PM and almost dark.

We discussed our options. We had no way of signalling for help aside from lighting a fire. It seems I did have a lighter in my pack. Since fires aren't allowed there, it would surely get some attention. I didn't want to go that route unless absolutely necessary for fear of starting a forest fire. What kind of a hullaballoo would that cause with the rangers anyway? Besides, what real danger were we in? If I hiked out to get flashlights or help it would take a long time to get back and I was already very tired. The trail is tricky along there and it would be very dangerous in the dark. We had snacks and even though we were low on water, there was water nearby and I had a water filter with me. Eventually we decided to just hunker down on the trail until it was light enough to see. One thing about that trail is that it just drops off on one side, so there isn't much room to actually camp or anything. Its not allowed there anyway. You certainly don't want to go wandering around up there in the dark on a moonless night.

We had no jackets. We had been sure we would not need them because we would be back before dark and it was warm up there in June. I had on a long sleeve polyester hiking shirt and my photo vest. Warren was dressed similarly without a vest. I knew from reading the weather reports that it wound get down to about 55-60 degrees that night. We were not going to freeze, but it would be chilly. Well, that old photo vest was soaking wet from the hiking. I actually had to take it off and hang it over a bush to try and dry it out. My shirt dried out fine. I would have liked to have that vest to wear that night. When I tried to put it on later it just made me colder. Every time the wind came up a little it was chill city. I had forgotten what real shivering was like. I did have my camera pack to protect me a little so I hugged it to me, but we were pretty much just exposed, lying on a dirt trail, curled up back to back until daybreak. It does help to keep your back warm!

No one else came down that trail. I was sure at least one group would be at least as stupid as we were and I was hoping they would have a flashlight. We took the precautioon of putting our food in a pile down the trail a bit in case a bear came by. I was more worried about mountain lions. Animals do use that trail apparently and there is no room to give each other a wide berth. The thought of an up close and personal encounter in the dark was on our minds as it turned to pitch balck. The moon did come up later, but we still could not see well enough to leave. Little sounds kept us on edge until we got used to the situation or maybe we were just too tired to care.

So I went with one of my strengths, telling stories, and kept it up until we finally did fall asleep for a few minutes towards daybreak. As my father used to say, "it always darkest before the dawn". Well it is definitely coldest too. Its hard to sleep when you are chilled like that.

The amazing thing was that when we did decide to walk out it still took over an hour to get to the car. We weren't even close. I have never goofed that bad estimating a trail before. There were some serious exposed dropoffs on that remaining trail so I am glad we didn't try it in the dark.

The one good thing that came out of that trip is the picture on the top of my website. So it was worthwhile. It also taught us to be more careful. Careful about planning and careful about taking things along that we might need. What I wouldn't have given for a windbreaker or a space blanket, not to mention my headlamp. I like to travel light on the trail. This time I went to far. Never again.

Finally, I would like to say that it never pays to panic. Of course as a principal horn player in an orchestra, I learned that a long time ago. If it had been snowing or otherwise physically threatening, we would have had to do something else but once we assessed the situation we realized that there was no sense in exposing ourselves to any more danger, it was more embarassing than anything else. Lesson learned.

Sins of the blogger

Well, I haven't done so well with my blog so far. I could say I have been busy, and that would be true, but I think it has more to do with the same reason I have never kept a journal or diary in my life. I always get the feeling that if I spend the time necessary to write down evrything that interests or annoys me, I will never have time to actually do anything. So the blog will go on intermitantly.
I have found a new cause to be involved with however. As the religious or spiritual part of my youth was spent in the Unitarian church, I have, recently, perhaps because of encroaching middle age, started to look back on my roots in order to find more meaning in my life. Recent attacks by right wing attack morons on cable channels on my former church did rekindle my interest in actual history, just to check the facts, mind you. Below is a link to my new crusade. After all, evryone else can have a Jihad, why not Unitarians.
Check it out. I'm thinking of helping the cause by making bumper stickers. I'll let you know when or if they become availble. In the meantime, it feels great to belong to a cause again.

Fair and Balanced

I just want everyone to know that I am a very intelligent and sensitive person who would never lie cheat or steal. I'm a wonderful guy. I am not a con artist, master manipulator or jailhouse lawyer. I have no axe to grind. I love to hear and discuss all sides of an issue. I would never have an affair. I am a loyal friend who will always be there for you. I would never hurt you. I respect and support your right to believe what ever you want and I will never judge you for it. I am fair and balanced. Trust me.

Inspiration

I planned to start a blog for a "Year in the life" kind of thing on January 1. Getting into the testing and such I just decided to go ahead now. Maybe I can catch up on a few things that happened this year to put the new year in perspective before the official start. Actually the idea is that the new year defines my life all by itself no matter what happens and what is forgotten or left behind. So is history a nightmare from which I am trying to awake? Is there nothing but history? Or do we need to learn from history in order not to repeat it? All of the above? None of the above? I was going to leave out the history for now. But is that possible?

Test

My first test