Loss of Bees Revisited: The LUC principle

A follow up article from der Spiegel magazine, which was thoughtfully sent to me by my cousin in Toronto, gives a German perspective on the bees issue for those who are interested. The problem may very well be the result of a concept that my friend Al from Detroit likes o call " The law of Unintended Consequences" or as I like to shorten to LUC.
I am unaware where this concept originated and would appreciate any learned feedback on its origins or authorship.

With LUC in play, whatever we attempt, however good intentioned, often times creates other more serious problems than the ones we are trying to solve. This is especially true when it has to do with modifying naturally developed processes. In our quest to do it faster or better we change those naturally occurring processes through some scientifically inspired manipulation and upset the balance of nature. This balance of nature is an evolutionary development that has taken thousands of years to be refined and we in our scientific hubris believe we can unlock the secrets of this delicately balanced ecosystem and somehow make it better. This is not to say that important strides cannot be made with careful and patient study of the various problems at hand. It is however a symptom of today's need to achieve at any cost, and at record speed, that we find ourselves prematurely introducing new means and methods that have not had the careful and thoughtful scrutiny or qualified peer review that is necessary . This is a beautiful example of the LUC principle in action. It is a symptom of what Thomas Friedman calls the "flattening of the world". In our rush to compete in this flattened and highly competitive world, we accelerate the rate at which we introduce new and inadequately tested technologies. The recent rash of pharmaceutical recalls for their unintended side effects bespeaks loudly to this trend. Who knows the lasting effects of the genetically modified meat and poultry and dairy we now ingest. Most of the time we are uninformed about the nature of the products we are sold. Truth in packaging is far from truthful. We must tread cautiously in these areas.

In this case the jury in out on the cause for the actual, some would say catastrophic, reduction in the bee population. Reductions of 25% to in some cases 75% of bee colonies used for crop pollination in both the United States and Europe are now being studied. The suspected causes range from genetically engineered crops, to cell phone tower transmissions, to parasites that are enabled by immune deficiencies caused by the ingestion of DNA altered crop pollen. One thing is for sure LUC is in full swing.

Here is a link to the der Spiegel article :

http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/0,1518,473166,00.html

Governor Bill Ricardson Announces!

Governor Bill Richardson Announces!

Yesterday after much speculation and to no one's surprise, the Democratic Party had one more hat tossed into the ring for its coveted presidential nomination. This one I believe is different. Governor of New Mexico, Bill Richardson, formally announced his candidacy for the Presidency in his birth state California. I discovered that his presidential eligibility came by chance when his Mexican born mother was sent from her home in Mexico City to California by his American father while she was pregnant and thus he was born here making him legally eligible to run for office, unlike his counterpart, the Austrian born and rising star Governor of California, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Bill actually returned to his home in Mexico City where he apparently lived through early childhood until he was sent to schooling in Massachusetts.

This multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-geographical upbringing is the kind of life experience that is sorely missing in most candidates and should be a source of strength in Richardson. He also has a broad base of experiences that are truly unique amongst the extremely crowded field of both Democrats and Republicans. He has first hand experience with dealing with the immigration problem that vexes much of American society, since he is Governor of a border state with all the travails that this implies. He has been a peace broker cast into some of the very lairs of our most difficult adversaries for the purposes of negotiating the release of hostages, and he has done so successfully on numerous occasions and with great aplomb. For his diplomatic skills he has been nominated four times for the Noble peace prize an achievement unparalleled by any other candidate. Diplomacy seems to be a lost art in Washington these days and his appearance on the scene would clearly signal our allies and adversaries that we have not abandoned this useful tool. He has been fiscally responsible as Governor of New Mexico and has made great strides in improving public education by placing greater value on teacher’s compensation. He has been on the forefront of energy conservation and the use of tax incentives to encourage alternative energy development in New Mexico. Education and energy: two key issues facing our country.

He would be the first President with a Latino heritage and as such can utilize this common ground to forge a more strategic alliance favorable to our interests with our presently estranged Latino neighbors in the Southern Hemisphere. This by itself can be an important strategic step to strengthening our security against potential terrorist threats from our southern borders.

In these very tenuous times it is refreshing to see an accomplished candidate that seems to have no apparent allegiance to special interests groups. He may not be the leading Democratic candidate in the opinion polls, Hillary Clinton has that distinction presently, although he has risen from nowhere to a respectable 10%. ;nor may he have the financial resources available to an Obama, a Clinton or an Edwards, but his candidacy gives hope that a eminently qualified candidate can still be taken seriously without the backing of machine politics and special interest lobbying.

I will be doing more intensive research into the man and his positions, but in the meantime to paraphrase what Chris Mathews said to him on his show, Hardball last night. It's good to have you aboard Governor; you would make a fine President.

"Brave New War" Winning is no longer an Option

In a recent editorial by David Brooks of the NY Times this past Friday, he referenced a book by a former special ops counter terrorism officer, John Robb. The book entitled "Brave New War" (which, I confess, is now on my short list of must reading) stimulated the columnist into making some serious assertions about the how we should be approaching the new global war of terrorism. I found a passage particularly enlightening in its simplicity and perhaps oft overlooked reality.

In referring to terrorist organizations as they are presently configured Brooks writes " They merely seek to weaken states, so that they can prosper in the lawless space created by collapse of law and order." If this is really true then many of us are certainly not dealing with the insurgents in Iraq or any place else in light of their true goals. I was listening to Newt Gingrich debate Christopher Dodd this weekend on Meet the Press. Despite his admitted distrust of the execution of the Iraq war by the inept Bush Administration, he as do many Republicans candidates, still clings to the idea of "winning the war".

How can we go about "winning a war" if it really isn't a war at all. If as Brooks intimates from his reading of Robb, that the terrorist intent is simply to proliferate social disorder and eliminate the rule of law, then how can we possibly treat this like a war which can be won. Like a traditional conflict with an aggressor who wishes to take over a geographical area. With tactics that try to defend boundaries. With the notion that somehow some entity is organized in such a way that it can be routed like the central command of the Nazi Germany in WWII.

This is like being in denial about the very nature of the way technology has changed the world. From the notion of centralized power bases to the reality of a new de-centralized, constantly morphing enemy. Their power lies in their skill at what Robb calls, "systems disruption".

They have learned that...."its better to weaken target governments, but not actually destroy them." In this way they can foment continued disruption, with no intent of full occupation as would be the intent of a traditional war opponent. Since they are not looking to actually win anything! They are simply interested in maintaining a disruptive state of confusion that allows their existence to "be". They never have to deal with any of the economic and social obligations or leadership that would be required to actually manage the myriad of responsibilities to the people who they are supposedly liberating. We cannot "win" this type of conflict.

One thing is for sure, traditional war type planning and perhaps even weapons systems are at best ineffectual against this type of foe. Lets stop the rhetoric that winning or losing implies. The best that we can hope for is to educate ourselves about how to best deal with this new type of threat and stop hiding behind these outdated concepts of machismo and bravado.

It is clear that our presence in Iraq is not being viewed by the Iraqis with the same type of overall enthusiasm that a liberator should expect. It is in fact impossible for us to stop the type of violence that has become an every day occurrence without the people's help. If the population at large does not participate in the identification and apprehension of the terrorists that continue the violence, than no amount of troop surges will be able to improve their daily life and we will be sending more troops into needless danger.


Winning is no longer an option.

George Will's Environmental "Fuzzy Math" is Missing the Point

In the interest of fairness, I am listing a link to a recent column in the Washington Post by columnist George Will. I respect Will's commentary while, often times disagreeing with his conclusions

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/11/
AR2007041102109.html?hpid=opinionsbox1

In this case he makes the point that in the rush to find answers to everything that is presently wrong with the direction we are taking environmentally, we often times over react by implementing ideas that on the surface seem to address the problems, but upon further inspection may actually be detrimental to our designated purpose. In one very clever example he likens the usable life and its environmental impact of a Prius hybrid to the usable life and impact of a Hummer and calculates by some very convenient "fuzzy math" of his own that the Hummer is actually less damaging over its lifespan than the Prius. This is done by taking into account the full environmental impact of some key elements of each vehicle from their extraction from the ground to their processing into parts, to their shipment to various portals for assembly. Every step of the way there are environmental consequences to these processes and often times they merely transfer deleterious environmental impacts from one area an another. Or so the theory goes.

For this approach to be conclusive it requires a diligent documentation of each step of each process for each vehicle, from the raw material stages to the actual finished product stage. The exercise of using one key element like the zinc in the battery portion of the Prius's hybrid engine, and following its pollution laden processing from mines in Canada through processing in Wales to its eventual installation into a finished product in Japan, as a indictment against the use of hybrid technology over conventional internal combustion technology is patently unfair and blatantly misses the point. It is not apparent that in his argument the same rigor was used to identify all the various components of the Hummer's creation to make a fair and unbiased comparison, but let us for a moment assume this to be the case.

We are all well aware of the environmental impact that a gas guzzling 10 mile per gallon vehicle does to the quality of our air and the subsequent costs to our health care system. We are all well aware of the dear price we pay and continue to pay for our unflappable dependence on foreign oil. The costs in lives and resources of at least two wars can be safely ledgered on this side of the argument. And so are we not better off making attempts to minimize the use of hydrocarbons even if our initial attempts may be awkward or have some unintended side effects. We can't allow ourselves to become immobilized by fears that we will make some mistakes! As with any technology the initial steps are often crude and even at times counterproductive, but nonetheless necessary steps in the development of new technologies that ultimately take us in the direction we all want need to move. In this case away from hydrocarbon emissions.

This is also no less true of the assertion that the Kyoto protocol is a misguided attempt by some "Chicken Little's" to force the nations of the world to actually implement some costly changes that will in balance amount to very little. Again,the point is to start this type of dialogue and not be quagmired by the immediate efficacy of the results. The fact that so many countries, with so many disparate needs, can agree on anything provides a promising platform that can be used to establish better controls and future gains that may not be immediately apparent. To arrogantly withhold support for this ground breaking global agreement on the argument that the money needed to implement these reforms can be better spent elsewhere is to create a diversion from the problem at hand and still not address those other pressing needs. Let us not be fooled by the man behind the curtain as he feverishly manipulates our priorities and directions, like the Wizard of Oz, leaving us doubting our direction by presenting us with a virtual high hurdle field of reasons why we shouldn't proceed on our quest to a better environment, no matter how bumbling the journey. It can't be better to simply sit back and serve more of the same.

Where are the bees?

In a recent post from David Byrne, of Talking Heads fame, I came across a quote purportedly from Einstein that to paraphrase -gave mankind as we know it, four years from the time there were no more bees to before the human race would vanish! It seems with no cross pollination the entire ecological system would fall apart and with it our existence. This quote was made in conjunction with his observation that many beekeepers around the world are apparently finding it difficult to keep enough bees in their hives to keep honey production going. Reduction rates of 50% to 60% were touted as being currently witnessed. If this is indeed true we are facing a crisis that has a window of opportunity to solve that could be much smaller than anything else we have had to deal with to date. This is alarming to anyone with eyes enough to see and a brain big enough to think that we as a species have changed things on our planet so much so with no consideration for the consequences that we may have indeed started a spiral into our very own non-existence! As a parent with the hope of someday attaining the merriment of grand parenting (i.e. the joy of enjoying children with none of the responsibility) this is obviously a big kink in the armor of my modest future plans. In speaking with several contemporaries about the many continuing developments that seem to be plummeting us into the abyss, I am disheartened by the universal attitude of helplessness that seems to be so prevalent amongst most of my generation ( the baby boomers) . What ever happened to the generation that wanted to change the world for the best. What happened to the mantras of peace, love and communal spirit. Well friends it seems to have been lost by way of the getting married, having children, obtaining that car loan and getting our condo or house with its related mortgage payments. In an effort to grow up and become part of the "real" world with all its inherent responsibilities, we capitulated our dreams and soul to others who we have let destroy the very world we want to raise our children in! Oh sure, we all lament, its those big businesses with their unscrupulous win at all costs practices that have made our environment into the precipitously dangerous place it has become. Or perhaps it is a result of political crony ism that we all believe is impossible to restrain. But is it really? And is it just this "they did it" attitude that has us all in the very predicament we find ourselves in right now?

My belief is that we ourselves are essentially to blame. And while I can see you all shaking your heads in tacit agreement you really don't believe it any more than I did. I still drive my Nissan Pathfinder with a tremendous 17 mpg on the highway. Even now when it is costing me $60 to fill the tank with regular I do it week after week (or actually every three or four days) with little or no action on my part to change this and I suspect you do similarly. What will it take for us to see that the bees are going and may not return! Do we need to see a world without color, fragrance, arboreal beauty before we realize we have gone too far ?

I have done some things in my business practice to try to build with a more earth friendly conscience. This is a start but it is not nearly enough. I expect to start to look into a more ecologically friendly vehicle. Perhaps a hybrid ( Whatever happened to those propane gas conversions for normal cars?). So what if I can't carry everything I might need to carry when I might need to carry it. I will cope and so must you! We all must make the effort and not tomorrow but right now. Today in whatever way we can. And we must all stop bitchin' and moanin' about all of them.....because my friends we are the enemy within. We grant the power to those whom we elect to be stewards of our resources and when we do so with such complacency we have no one to blame but ourselves. So we must be diligent in our careful evaluation of those of us to whom we grant such authority and when we see them going astray from the goals and ideals that we hold true and sacred we have a moral obligation to not let it linger and fester and spoil. We can n longer afford to stand by idly while the earth is ravaged by our ill-chosen delegates of profiteering and greed. We must use the power of the purse, sometimes even at our own personal detriment, to speak to those purveyors about what it is we value and what it is we eschew.

It is also our obligation to see to it that enough money and effort is spent on our an our children's behalf to fund research that defines the most effective path to solving our energy and environmental problems (which seem to be inescapably joined like Siamese twins) and to establish a Manhattan project type impetus to solving these problems now. It is unfathomable to me that we can spend such inordinate amounts of our national wealth on such low priority matters ( fill in the blanks with your favorite pork barrel project) and yet have such pressing issues be scantily provided for by meager apportionment's that only pay lip service to actually trying to solve them in this century. We must all join forces and become the activists we once aspired to be as in the days of the Weathermen, The Black Panthers, The Chicago Seven and even the Woodstock Generation, a fledgling Greenpeace and an good intentioned Peace Corps. . While I did not aspire to some of these radical notions at the time, they all represented a firebrand zeal that seems to be missing in our present souls. I for one, miss the passion of being so thoroughly inspired by the principal and righteousness of the cause that the inconvenience to everyday life is not even an afterthought. We have the power to change for the better and change now! We are a bright and able generation that did not have the burden of a major world war to carry on our shoulders as our parents before us so brilliantly geared up for and overcame. As a recent article I read mentioned, when we started WWII we had virtually no air force to speak of and by the time the war was over we were cranking out bombers by the dozens on a daily basis. Our capacity is enormous and should be duly employed for such good. We brainstormed atomic energy in a few short years and we now have the computing power hereto for not even imagined; and with Moore's Law in play we are growing our technological achievements exponentially! So why not direct these resources to save our planet now before it is too late!

And so when sometime in the near future one of our grandchildren ask us what is that yellow insect buzzing around that beautiful flowers, we can reply with pride ...That is a bee, honey, we almost lost them all.

Parking Lot Encounter

A Parking Lot Encounter 4/20/07

The squat, sloppily dressed woman ungraciously parked her dust covered, pearl grey mini-van directly in front of my car as I was just about to pull out of my parking space.I marveled with some distaste at her utter disregard for parking etiquette since there were ample other spots open for her to choose without my easy exit being discourteously disrupted. I mused that she was obviously a parking Cretan with no driving manners and resigned myself to backing out of my space with no further regard for the matter. But as I maneuvered out of the parking space and began approaching the exit of the lot, I could see that her choice of parking locations was recklessly chosen to cause the maximum discomfort for anyone who would have to subsequently leave the lot. It now required that a car squeeze through the narrowest of passages that she left between her car and the building adjacent. This was starting to smack me of total disregard for humanity and as I proceeded to gingerly make my way through the canal like passage she had created. I realized that some of the elderly patients that frequented the chiropractic office that shares the parking lot would be totally befuddled by her lack of consciousness. Over the years I have watched many older drivers have a hard time negotiating the already narrow confines of this often crowded lot and have shivered at the thought of coming down from my office only to find my SUV’s side panel the victim of some slightly challenged octogenarian driver with a back problem.

Having determined that this inconvenience was totally unnecessary and probably the act of an otherwise decent person who simply was unaware of the potential trouble she was causing, I watched her walking to the chiropractor’s door and as I was passing I opened my window to offer a friendly comment. “Excuse me Miss you parked your car in such a way that it partially blocking the exit.” She was wearing one of those uncomfortable neck braces that you often see on people entering chiropractic offices. This probably should have elicited sympathy on my part for she might be in real pain, but in a flash my cynical mind could envision her being part of some insurance scam where see was feigning whiplash so she could milk the system. This cynicism was reinforced daily by the parade of visitors to Dr. Mel’s office. His office, it seemed, did a thriving and recurring business in treating all types of physically malcontented individuals who somehow had been wronged by some celestially driven event covered by an insurance claim or workmen’s disability. This could, if properly worked, open the gates to the Leprechaun’s gold for some or a life of fashionable freeloading for extended periods for those willing to exploit the situation.

The mini van lady turned her head within the confines of her padded neck brace. This gave her a high collared almost Elizabethan countenance as she faced my window. The Exorcist like ease with which she swiveled her head on her neck would have been proof positive to any insurance investigator that her injuries were suspect. The look on her face was not one of bemusement or thankful appreciation. Her contorted features immediately took on a warlike demeanor that was more fittingly framed by a piece of warrior’s armor than a simple therapeutic neck brace. It was obvious hat her response was not going to be conciliatory or for that matter polite.

She growled back “Shut up you stupid!” with a slightly eastern European accent and gruffly entered into the office door totally ignoring my plea for parking consideration.

In retelling this episode I was shocked to find the universal response to be “What did you expect?” or that I should have “Thought it but not said it.” Have we become so isolated from each other that we dance around each other’s aberrant behaviors? Do we allow ourselves to tolerate unseemly actions to avoid confrontation, and if we do for convenience sake are we not encouraging the continuance of the very behavior we all eschew?

We often are confronted by people’s apparently oblivious actions to those around them. We can choose to ignore them or confront them, but if we do decide that their thoughtless actions require a response we must always be prepared to accept an equally egregious reaction. “Shut up you stupid.” could easily be escalated, under some unforeseen circumstances, to the mad ravings or homicidal reactions of a psychopath who feels oddly disenfranchised from the community around him and whose breaking point is somehow triggered by a seemingly unrelated and innocent event. From this we have no protection. The indiscriminate shooting at Virginia Tech offer fresh proof of these present day facts of life. But to abdicate our responsibilities to each other by failing to approach unacceptable behavior in some civilized manner with out fear of repercussions is to hold our society hostage. Perhaps a more proactive response to anti-social behavior in our everyday lives by each and every one of us is now demanded. We must be willing, as individuals, to accept our role as guardians of socially acceptable mores. Whether we are faced with offensive slurs in any venue, misogynistic and inappropriate lyrics under the guise of hip music or rude and obnoxious responses to common courteous behavior we all must demand a higher standard so as not to allow our society to revert to a state of disrepair and discomfort.

© Ralph A. Miriello 2007

Memories of A Childhood Television Experience

A Lesson Learned

Recently, I was retelling a story from my childhood to my companion. I had not thought about it for quite some time and it was a memory that, for whatever reason, has stuck with me in some profound way.

I was about ten or eleven, as I recall I was in grade school, perhaps it was fifth or sixth grade. I remember some of the teachers like Mrs. H., not for any particular reason other than she seemed to have had a somewhat pudgy face with an upturned nose that reminded me of a cartoon bull dog for some reason. The teachers were not particularly harsh or for that matter kind. They dutifully took us through our rote exercises of English vocabulary, sentence structure and arithmetic times tables. Nothing was especially notable about this period in parochial grammar school. It was at St. Mary’s in suburban Northern, New Jersey back in the late nineteen fifties to early nineteen sixties. Eisenhower was still President and we were fighting the cold war. Not that I had any idea of what was going on beyond my neat little world of schoolwork and playtime. My memory is often cloudy about these days with few details that I can conjure up from the depths of my brain, but I do recall that we sat in uncomfortable desks, many with ancient remnants of chewing gum stuck to the undersides of the well worn, wooden tops. Some adorned with carved epitaphs of former notorious student mavericks.

Being in parochial school, (read that as code for Catholic), there were always nuns , in our case Dominicans, keeping tabs of the progress of all the classes. It was common knowledge that the “lay” teachers, as they were called, were usually older dedicated but somewhat dated teachers, most always women. For whatever reason they didn’t or couldn’t work in the much more advanced and progressive public school system. It was the prevailing thought of the day, at least in my parent’s mind, that a Catholic school education would teach discipline first, classical studies and also allow for some spiritual education. The boys were supposed to wear pressed white shirts with ties, clip-ons weren’t fashionable yet, and clean and pressed trousers. Trousers, not pants, not blue jeans, usually just scratchy wool trousers. The girls would wear uniforms of plaid dresses, starched white tops with a small collar tie and white bobby socks with saddle shoes. To be sure, some of us wore the clothes better than others; some were neater and crisper depending on our parent’s individual attentions. But with all this decorum and formality, the thinking was, we would develop into responsible young, educated citizens. We would always represent our parents, our school, our community and ourselves in a professional manner that would make everyone proud.

With all this buttoned up responsibility on our heads, it was no wonder that any venture or break from the routine was welcomed with great enthusiasm. For me, the most memorable excursion of this year was the unlikely opportunity for our class to be taken to participate in a television show in New York City! Television was still young and predominantly black and white, color sets were a real luxury, but the programs they brought into our homes were shaping the way American families viewed American life. For kids like us, the shows that influenced us were shows like The Lone Ranger, The Roy Rogers Show, and The Andy Devine show (I still remember the line “Pluck your magic twanger Froggy!) And a myriad of other action and children comedic oriented fare. Two shows broadcast out of New York, that actually engaged kids as participants in their wacky games, were ones that particularly stick in my memory banks. An engaging master of ceremonies named Sonny Fox hosted them both. If I had to describe the appearance of Sonny Fox now, my mind’s eye brings me to a present image of a smiling Alan Alda, as he is enthusiastically engaged in various extraordinary findings on the Dscovery channel. Back then Sonny Fox was the front man for the two shows that kids my age drooled over. On Sunday mornings it was Wonderama, by far the more popular of the two, and on Saturday morning’s its more humble brother, Just for Fun! Just for Fun was the stealth star of the two shows to my way of thinking, because it was the show that allowed kids on the show to actually win prizes. What terrific prizes they were, it was like being in FAO Schwartz with no cash registers.

So it was with great fanfare that we were told that we were selected to be participants on this Saturday’s “Just for Fun” show. How did this happen, how could it be. As it turns out, one of my classmate’s fathers was a cameraman for the show. He had somehow convinced Sonny to have our class on the show. There was naturally some trepidation on the part of the Sisters, who felt that this might be damaging to the tranquility of the class regiment they had so skillfully maintained. But somehow they were convinced that the trip would be a worthwhile learning experience with few downside risks. In retrospect, I think there was a huge curiosity factor playing out here in the hearts and minds of the Sisters, who probably innocently fantasized a little about being on TV. We all felt we had been giving a gift from heaven, and, in fact, the nuns made sure that we would offer thanks to God during prayers in church, for having such good fortune. Needless to say the classmate, Patricia B., whose father made this all possible, became an instant celebrity of the fourth grade despite her previous obscurity.

I for one was beside myself with joy. Having come from relatively humble economic means, the chance to have the opportunity to perhaps bag some really extravagant toys on the show was a peek at the good life. Our class was formed from an economically diverse group of lower and middle-income families, so I am sure I was not alone in anticipating scoring some treasure.

The day of the show is a bit of a blur. I remember riding a chartered bus from the school to the studio in midtown Manhattan. Despite the short ride, for many of us this was itself the beginning of a fantastic voyage in previously unchartered waters. We filed out from the bus in a single line, the Sisters, maintaining an impenetrable shield between the ominous city and us. We were barely able to set foot on the grimy, Robert Wagner era sidewalk before we were whisked into side door of the studio.

In the studio the excitement began. We were split into two groups and filed onto bleacher type seats with a camera pointing toward us. The one set of bleachers were painted gold and the other blue, representing the two teams that would be matched against each other in the pursuit of unimaginable toy bounty. There may have been three teams but I recall only two. The television camera, with Patricia B’s father dutifully behind it, was pointed at the bleachers and we were given some brief instructions to look at the camera, have fun and scream our heads off with joy when we won something. These seemed like pretty easy instructions and no one raised their hands with any questions. The obvious question that was never asked was what do you do if you lose? Sonny came out to say hello and calm our enthusiasm a bit. Soon the red light on the camera went on and he introduced the show, our school, as well as some of the Sisters to a waiting public somewhere behind that cameras lens.

Soon we were all engaged in various stunts and tasks that would be featured during the hour and half long show. Sonny would ask for volunteers for the next feature, we would all violently, flail our hands in anxious anticipation of being chosen for something that could lead to various prizes, I suppose it made for exciting television for the kids at home, but it was pure pandemonium for us in the studio. I watched as my classmates were chosen to wrestle with greased baby pigs to see which team could be the first to diaper their pig. The winner received a pile of the latest toys. I marveled at two of my classmates struggled to try on various ill fitting coats attempting to be the one that looked the most ridiculous. The winner was once again rewarded, this time with an enormous erector set. Then there were the treasure chests, one blue one gold, each with a pile of keys before them and the task was to be the first team to find the correct key and open their chest. The winner was showered with every conceivable game from Risk to Monopoly. Slowly the various stunts were parceled out and I was becoming desperate to be chosen for a worthy challenge so I could score my rightful bounty. At last Sonny, asked for a volunteer to perform a tongue twister. The prize was something to behold.A beautiful Emenee electric organ. This was my destiny; I had to have this musical marvel. If only I could snag this piece of technological magic. This was something that I could never expect to see some Christmas morning under my tree; it was just too much to hope for.

With the goal firmly set in my mind I concentrated at the task at hand. Sonny simply and eloquently stated “ All you have to so to win this beautiful Emenee organ and give your blue team another 10 points toward the team victory is to say this three times fast. Are you ready?” Say Six Slick Silk Slips. Go! It was such an easy thing I thought to myself, I got this one nailed, but as I started my first attempt I slurred the words together. I begged for another try and Sonny graciously let me have at it again. I took a deep breath. Time started to slow down, I noticed my blue teammates jumping up and down in slow motion, screaming encouragement at me, but I couldn’t hear a sound except for a feeble attempt from mouth trying desperately to utter what my mind was so easily saying. Six Sis Skilk Slips , no Six Slip Silk Skips, no, no no!

After several attempts, Sonny, seeing my obvious difficulty, compassionately relieved me of the challenge. I watched as the stagehand removed the Emenee organ from the set. I scanned my teammates faces and only remember the look of disappointment they all shared at my utter and complete failure.

I know this story seems to be no more than an inconsequential snippet from the life of a grade schooler and it probably would be, but for one lasting thing that came from this humbling experience. I immediately set out to conquer the challenge that so completely disappointed and humiliated me. I practiced this tongue twister endlessly, faster and faster until I was able to say confidently and with no equivocation that I could bet my life on being able to say it three times fast with no hesitation or slip up. Six Slick Silk Slips; Six, Slick, Silk, Slips; Six, Slick, Silk, Slips!!!!! The lesson for me in all this is that sometimes it takes the most humbling of experiences to motivate a person into accomplishing a formidable challenge. If we could only find the necessary ingredients from this formula and impart them onto our teaching methods without the embarrassment, disappointment or humiliation factors, we would have found a marvelous tool for implanting permanent knowledge. A tool to stir the memory and keep what we would like to remember as vivid today as the day so many years ago when I couldn’t get the words out. Perhaps, on the other hand, it is precisely the embarrassment, humiliation and disappointment associated with of our life lessons that are the only real motivating factors we have for imprinting whatever it is we need to learn as we grow. Like the scorching sensation of touching that first hot surface. I for one have learned my lesson well. Sonny wherever you are you can never trip me up on that one again!

©copyright 2007 R.A. Miriello

Mahavishnu Orchestra Revisited

MAHAVISHNU ORCHESTRA REVISITED

A review of the book Power, Passion & Beauty by Walter Kolosky

Funny things can sometimes happen when people of like mind make an otherwise unplanned connection. It is nice when a vehicle like All About Jazz can be instrumental in such connections. As it happened I recently had the inspiration to write an article that was fortuitously published on March 1, 2007 in AAJ about my experiences concerning Michael Brecker his music, his influence on me and my attendance at his recent Town Hall memorial. This led innocently enough to my being emailed by several people who read the article and were kind enough to welcome me to the AAJ family. One of those people happened to be Walter Kolosky who is the author the book Power, Passion & Beauty, The story of the legendary Mahavishnu Orchestra. I suppose it was a reference to my earliest experience with the MO and John McLaughlin in my bio that Walter was acknowledging, but it nonetheless led me to discover his book and read it subsequently.

Power, Passion & Beauty is a treasure for any musician or fan of this incredibly moving and genre creating experience known as the Mahavishnu Orchestra. The book describes, with unabashed admiration, the powerful and surprisingly life altering experience that many of us had when we bore witness to this cosmic tour de force for the first time. My first time was at a college concert at Farleigh Dickenson University (often jokingly referred to as Fairly Ridiculous at the time) in Rutherford, New Jersey. I am not positive of the exact date but it was after Billy Cobham had his Fibes Plexiglas drums kit, so using Walter’s conveniently useful chronology, it was sometime shortly after May of 1972. I had told my friends that I had heard good things about this band and its amazing guitar virtuoso and that we should be sure to make it to this concert. With some trepidation and skepticism my compadres agreed to cough up the admission price and we went to the show with seats in about the third or fourth row! Wiser fans had skillfully been a bit more prudent about the potential damage to their hearing. To describe the scene in words is not to do it justice, but suffice it to say that on the opening flurry of notes our jaws dropped in unison and we were never again the same. As a fledgling guitar player I was both inspired and totally disarmed.

PP&B was to me a wonderful and accurate reenactment of that time. Skillfully and meticulously researched and assembled by using excerpts of quotes gathered from multiple print sources; direct communications with the band members and their coterie; and from various personal recollections of the many musicians, some of them present day icons, which were obviously influenced by this band and their music. In its time, the early 1970’s there were many musical influences to choose from and music was certainly robust and vibrant, but Mahavishnu was palpably different. Through Walter’s careful inclusion of many present day musicians’ recollections of experiencing the MO, he has correctly unearthed a hereto fore underappreciated linkage. The MO tapped into a stream of musical consciousness that was apparently itching to be unleashed. An amalgamation of jazz, rock, eastern Indian influences all played with hereto fore unseen precision, virtuosity and originality. It hit a chord in all of us who were so profoundly affected by its searching, probing, thoroughly masterful execution of the magical music of John, Billy, Jerry Jan & Rick. It was as if a cosmic alignment, hinted to in Walter’s suggestion of astrological coincidences of the band members, brought these five disparate musical entities together to create a super nova of music that would change us all forever. To acknowledge such a thing is to accept a fact that many of us may not have been fully aware. This goes beyond music as a universal language, which it clearly must be considered, but borders on the realm of a spiritual connection with other people of like minds that were equally moved by the intensity, power, passion and uplifting beauty of the MO’s musical quest. As I stated in my previous article about the almost spiritual impact Michael Brecker’s playing had on me and many others, a fact not lost in the outpouring of good will at his memorial, the MO made similar although admittedly not as widespread cosmic connections.

Some readers may be disappointed at the lack of specificity in the reasons given for the bands ultimate demise. This book, however, rises above the tell-all genre of the band’s personality conflicts and petty misunderstandings. The fact that the MO was victim to what many other less connected bands were, EGO, is hardly relevant or a surprise. The author does, however, paint a clear picture of a band on fire, leaving it all on the stage every night. It is little wonder that with this delicate marriage of musical giants an early implosion was inevitable and perhaps the only way such an incendiary force of nature could be put asunder.

This is a must read for any fan or musician who were mystically touched by this music. It gives credence to the fact that there were so many more like minded individuals who were also so dramatically affected perhaps for many a comforting validation. It could rightly be considered a phenomenon. In bringing us together and relating with such enthusiasm his own irresistible draw to the band and its music, he unites us with the realization that we are indeed not alone in our appreciation, understanding and awe. What Walter’s book did for me was to reignite my love of this music and give me the impetus to research the music of the other players interviewed, that were also like me inspired and awed.

The original Mahavishnu Orchestra will never be duplicated. And as alluded to in the book, it is highly unlikely the band will ever be reunited, because of continued acrimony amongst the band members. But we as fans who have enjoyed this music for now over thirty years should look to those musicians who were similarly touched and who continue to carry the torch while exploring new possibilities. As John McLaughlin has never ceased to search and explore his musical boundaries, we as fans must also try to grow from the foundation of this music and continue to support those whose vision we apparently share. Power, Passion & Beauty serves as a virtual catalogue of like players, other birds of fire who may have taken their musical vision from the emerald beyond and carried them to new and arresting plateaus that we should continue to explore.

© Ralph A. Miriello

Homeowner's Dilemma: Renovate or Move?

A Homeowner’s Dilemma: Renovate or to Move

You have lived in your current home for quite a while. It’s comfortable and has certainly served you and your family well. You have established yourself and your children in the community and everyone has settled into a rhythm of life mode that it difficult to upset without great trepidation. But as you and your family have grown- the once adequately spacious and up to date homestead has been transformed into a shabby, crowded and somewhat outdated version of what it once was. What are you to do? Being the modernist, forward thinking person that you know you are, you have kept up with the newest trends and latest technologies in quality homes. You have thumbed through the pages of Home & Garden, Architectural Digest, Dwell , Your Green Home and other publications and stored away in your memory banks all the “what ifs” that your fertile mind could dream. The task of converting the old homestead into a shining new vessel worthy of sailing into the new millennium is a bit overwhelming. With so many new homes to choose from, flaunting every conceivable convenience it seems like a no brainer to just “bite the bullet”, find a new place and move. The problem is that you really like where you live, you have established roots, and the thought of starting anew in a different neighborhood, even in the same community has its own set of anxieties. The alternative, to renovate is often looked at with fear, mystery and apprehension.

Renovating your Dream

The right solution is often to renovate your existing abode to meet your new needs. For some people, the thought of disrupting their living space while they are still living there is a truly unfathomable concept. If the truth is to be told; when the renovation is so extensive that it cannot be economically or feasibly staged in sections then temporary relocation from the project is highly recommended for the sanity and well being of both the homeowner and the contractor. In most cases, however, with the right planning and cooperation and the right contractor the process can be at least tolerable and possibly even a pleasant and interesting experience. So how do we get to this point? Let’s start with the foundation, the architect.

Choosing the Architect

It is important to find a qualified architect that you and your family believe has a vision of how you want to live and how you want your space to both look and function. The old adage of form following function is a truism to my way of thinking. Choosing the right architect is perhaps the most critical part of renovating your home. So how do you make such an important choice with little or no experience? First and foremost working with an architect is a collaborative venture. This means that you have at least as much to say about this process as the architect does and so you must be compatible with whomever it is you choose to work. This sounds like a notion that should be obvious to everyone, but often times this basic premise is lost in the myriad of other considerations that come to the table.

These factors include the cache of working with a notable (ie: name recognized) architect; the perceived comfort level of working with someone who has been recommended by a friend or colleague; the admiration of an architect’s style as demonstrated in prior work; the deceptively inexpensive cost of one architect’s fees compared to another, the often misconceived notion that you don’t need a professionals help and other important but ultimately subordinate considerations.

The task at hand is the seamless integration of your families functioning needs with the practical considerations of the existing structures limitations and your ultimate overall budget. For this relationship to work successfully you and your architect must be able have a dialogue that communicates your ideas and requirements. The architect can then creatively and practically transform these ideas into a flowing, functioning and aesthetically pleasing design that hopefully will also meet your budgetary restraints. A great architect; one whose work is aesthetically appealing, identifiable and perhaps

of some notability, may or may not be the right architect for your particular project. Price is also an imperfect measure of the compatibility that a good client/architect relationship must have.

Design and Compatibility

Coincident vision can be a good starting point for choosing an architect that might be able to transform your needs into something that you can ultimately appreciate. Even an apparent simpatico with an architect’s design sensibility must be tempered with personal compatibility between the both of you. This ensures that your ideas and requirements will be carefully considered, evaluated, and where possible, incorporated into the design and not simply overruled as victims to a visionary on a quest. It is also important to consider that unless you have planned a major make over, one that often incorporates sweeping roof changes for your existing house with the commensurate budget, the architect is somewhat limited by the existing structural and design elements. Any changes must fit aesthetically with the remaining untouched portion of the structure so that the work is flowing and not simply a crude, inappropriate appendage.

While cost is always a consideration, it should not be the overwhelming deciding factor when choosing the right architect. The cost of architectural services is directly related to the amount of time spent on a particular project. As with any professional service, the differences between architects efficient use of their time can sometimes be dramatic and so higher rate structures do not necessarily translate to higher overall costs. An architect that carefully listens to his clients wishes the first time will be less likely to have to make repeated corrections and modifications. The cumulative fees can consequently be less expensive despite an initially higher hourly rate. A professional architect should have no difficulty explaining what amount of time he or she expects it shall take for the various phases of the project once the parameters of the project have been established. He or she should also provide a list of hourly rates for the various services the firm offers including fees for the Principal architect, associate architects, drafts people and other personnel used in the course of the project. Armed with this information it is relatively easy to determine the approximate cost of a project’s architectural fee.

Helping Yourself:

A smart consumer can mitigate some of these costs by taking a pro-active roll early in the design process. This should happen after the initial meeting with the architect to determine overall project requirements, but before final layouts are committed to paper. Taking the time to explore finishes like tile, marble, countertop materials, cabinet styles and finishes, appliances, plumbing fixtures, door hardware, window styles & brands, doors, molding profiles, hardwood flooring, lighting fixtures, carpeting and other items that may be specified for the project will go along way to educating you the homeowner as to what to expect. This education process is helpful to establish a base criteria from which to start. By carefully exploring the many different options available the homeowner can narrow his or her choices based on quality required, functionality, personal aesthetics, availability and cost. Any one of these considerations can substantively alter the approach that will ultimately be taken by the design professional and so this exercise can substantially mitigate some billable design time that might otherwise be wasted. Following this process also goes a long way to minimizing the surprise of a cost overrun that so many people fear when starting a project of this nature. After some of your choices have been presented, the architect will render his professional opinions on why a particular choice may not be appropriate for the task at hand and what substitutions or modifications can be entertained. This has the added benefit of streamlining client/architect conference time and consequently can go along way to keeping the architectural fees to a more reasonable level.

In my estimation the most important part of what an architect can bring to the project besides his or her particular aesthetic taste is their ability to make the space work for the function intended. Good design should always intuitively feel right to the homeowner.

It is often difficult for many people to visualize on plan what a space will feel like but it is often a good exercise to have the space laid out in full scale prior to finalizing the design. Current computer simulations of design space go along way to allowing people who cannot visualize in two dimensions how a space might look and feel in “3D” perspectives. The aesthetic appeal of the addition or renovation should be compatible with the overall look of the house and added space should be carefully and skillfully integrated to create a seamless, well proportioned project.

It is important to remember that you have hired the professional to render you a service, not the reverse. While a healthy respect for the opinions and suggestions of a design professional are key to a successful relationship, you should never feel intimidated or trapped by the architect or his suggestions. When and if a project starts to take on its own life, as so often can happen, it is unwise to sit back and relinquish your input to the sole judgment of the design professional. Despite the fact that he or she was originally retained because of their competency, taste and style; this does not necessarily mean the project can be completed to your satisfaction without your continued and diligent input.

It is always better to reign in a project early if you see the control being uncomfortably transferred or the process taking a turn in a direction that was not anticipated. A good architect will always be sensitive to his client’s comfort level.

On rare occasions it is sometimes necessary to sever relationships with design professionals who for whatever reason are no longer sensitive or responsive to the design parameters as originally defined. This is often a difficult decision that involves loss of time, money and sometimes professional pride and should not be taken lightly, but failure to do so when appropriate can lead to the greater disaster. A design professional who understands that a disconnect has occurred between his client and himself will usually prefer terminating the relationship rather than to continue at odds with the homeowner, provided there is a meeting of the minds on fees earned .and usually for the betterment of the project.

Building a Team: The Contractor as the professional

Another helpful tool to minimizing costs and streamlining the design process is to engage a qualified contractor to work with you and the architect in developing realistic budgets as well as making suggestions about the most practical and economical methods that should be employed to create the desired effect. A competent contractor can short circuit design features that may be difficult or prohibitively expensive to accomplish. He may offer alternative approaches that in his experience can be more easily or economically attained while still preserving the design professional’s intent. This “value engineering” can be an important part in bringing in the project within the desired budget. He can also help with researching availability of some materials that may be contemplated for the project and ensure that they can be ordered with enough lead time that they do not negatively impact the progress of the project. The last thing you as a homeowner needs is to be waiting with an unfinished kitchen or bath because a vital part of the construction was not available in a timely manner. He can also create proposed schedules that can quantify with some accuracy the duration of various phases of the project and establish benchmarks for completions times. Many contractors offer this service on the promise of being awarded the contract for the work. I have never felt this was a proper way to conduct business as it comes with an implied “quid pro quo”. A better approach is to hire a competent contractor (one that you would not hesitate to work with) and engage him for his time on an hourly rate during the pre-construction process. In this way the contractor is being fairly compensated for his time as a knowledgeable professional in a similar manner to the architect and there is no implied guarantee that the work will be contracted to his firm. This process allows all three parties the homeowner, the architect and the contractor to form a trusting and working relationship prior to the actual construction of the project, or conversely it can uncover difficulties that are best discovered prior to the commencement of the project and allow for a change of course if necessary.

Once these suggestions are implemented the whole overwhelming apprehension often associated with such a major undertaking as renovating one’s home is put into a proper and more manageable perspective. The real beauty and excitement of creating a new and more workable living environment for you and your family will be allowed to take form and blossom.

©Ralph A. Miriello

Memories of Michael Brecker

Memories of Michael Brecker

by

Ralph A. Miriello

Last night Stefania and I took a train ride into the City to pay homage to a fallen musician. Michael Brecker. The prolific and well respected saxophone player, had passed away five weeks prior at a hospital in New York from leukemia, the end result of a long standing battle with MDS (myelodyplastic syndrome). It was a little publicized memorial at Town Hall in midtown Manhattan, and I for one, went there with little expectations other than to honor the memory of a musician who had over the years given me such wonder and joy.

I was somehow drawn to Michael’s playing early on in his career. In my high school years, I had been determined to listen to and absorb all the old jazz recordings at my local library. They were predominantly vinyl pressings of whatever artists that donators to the library saw fit to release from their collections. You would think that this would result in relatively slim pickings, with only those recordings that were less appreciated being recycled. But to my surprise the selection was bountiful, with names and recordings that I probably would have never otherwise experienced. I listened with old black Bakelite earphones to the world music of Yuseff Latiff and the piano syncopations of Thelonius Monk. I marveled at the unfamiliar timings of Dave Brubeck with Joe Morello on drums and sat mesmerized by the orchestrations of Oliver Nelson and Charles Mingus. I was captivated by the tonal qualities of Stan Getz , Bill Evans and Paul Desmond. But then I listened and listened to John Coltrane’s Giant Steps. This was something special and I was hooked. I went on to his Ole & Impressions albums and was totally blown away. When I eventually got to listen to A Love Supreme, I started to understand that music, at least this music, was communicating more than simple notes on a page or sounds over my earphones. This music moved me. This music was exploring new dimensions, not just of sound but also of communication and connection to a higher force.

Ultimately, the times were changing , rock was fully embraced as the music of the day and I was fully engaged in this guitar centric era. I found myself turning away from the old lions of jazz and sought after a voice from my generation. The first time I saw Michael was in the basement club of the Village Gate. There was reportedly a super group formed with some players that I had long wanted to see first hand. The group was Dreams a group that was crossing the line between jazz and rock at a time when others like Blood Sweat & Tears and Chicago Transit Authority were also finding their way to a select audience. While the drummer Billy Cobham made an indelible impression on me with his clear, acrylic drum set and his amazing almost dance-like technique, it was my first experience of Michael Brecker playing along side his brother Randy. The two combined to create a distinctive, unified horn sound that somehow made this music different from the rest.

Michael’s career and my love of music were on parallel paths. We were, after all, the same age. I would be inexplicably attracted to songs and particularly saxophone solos along the way . Often times I would hear some line or a solo in a popular song and be so impressed that I would make an concerted effort to find out who played that part. Invariably it was Michael. His discography is absolutely astounding! Who hasn’t he played with in the last thirty-five years. Over time, I became more and more impressed. When his first album as a leader came out and won a Grammy I knew I was not alone in my judgment of his extraordinary talent and unique ability to communicate musically. This was my John Coltrane! I started to collect his solo efforts as well as any collaboration in which he was involved. Every chance I would get to see him play was one more chance to experience his brilliance and he never disappointed. I perceived his playing was getting better and better by leaps and bounds. I was watching before my eyes a true giant making huge strides on his instrument and in his playing and writing. Each successive performance was more astounding than the last. His solo work with McCoy Tyner, John Coltrane’s former pianist and a brilliant artist in his own right, on an album called Infinity, is in my mind some his best. Here Michael takes on his mentor’s place and brings it to his own unique and extraordinary level. I saw him play with McCoy at the Iridium nightclub in NYC and sheepishly got him to sign the CD. I couldn’t help feel connected to this humble artisan. We had grown up together and he was still growing! I was fortunate to see him play with some of the great musicians of our time and in each case Michael’s star shown brightly. His persona was never showy or self-centered, but when he played his prominence could not be denied. The last time I saw him play was with his Quindectet for the promotion of his then latest album Wide Angles. His wife Susan was there as were his two children Jessica and Sam. For me, that night, he became more than a great musician. He was demonstrably a loving father and husband as well a palpably human being. I found myself unable to avoid going up to him between sets. Somehow I needed to relate to him how I had seen him many times over the years, but that I felt he was now on top of his game and his playing was at a new level. He graciously and humbly thanked me with one of his patented wide grins. Shortly there after I found out that he was ill and that it was possibly life threatening. I was in shock. He ultimately succumbed to his illness on February 13, 2007.

The gathering for Michael brought together a myriad of people from all walks of life. His son Sam, his daughter Jessica and his wife Susan all spoke poignantly about his life. A life undoubtedly well lived, long remembered and much loved. His brother Randy spoke fondly of times past and sibling competition. His moving trumpet work on a song memorialized in one of Michael’s many brilliant recordings was an open display of affection. Michael’s fellow musicians honored his music and the memory of his many contributions. The singer, James Taylor, sent a recorded message of thanks, crediting Michael’s intersession in his own addictions, with saving his life. Dave Liebman, another saxophone contemporary, shared his personal grief at Michael’s passing and punctuated it with a tender piece played on a simple wooden flute. Pat Metheny, Herbie Hancock, Paul Simon & many more all celebrated their friendship and admiration for his life as well as his music. His wife, Susan, had correctly requested no saxophones be played on this night, and despite the presence of such contemporary luminaries as Wayne Shorter, Dave Liebman and Joe Lovano, respectfully no saxophones were played.

As I sat through this, my eyes scanned the audience to witness the packed crowd of well-wishers and grievers in the venerable Town Hall auditorium. People like me who had been drawn to this event. The various hats, beards, pony tails and attire served to mark an audience of a different breed. It was apparently comprised of a great deal of musicians, mostly male, who came to pay homage to a fallen comrade. At the start of the evening, while we were waiting on the line outside to get into the hall, we had occasion to meet and talk with one of them, Pat Rebillot, a noted keyboard player who had once played with Michael. Pat and his wife had dutifully come from up state New York, some two and one half hours away, to pay their respects. He was just one of many there. Those musicians who have undoubtedly been heard numerous times, by many of us fans of the music, but who are seldom seen or recognized. Michael’s passing brought us all together, family, fellow musicians, friends and fans. For me it was like the scene from the Spielberg movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind, where Richard Dreyfuss was unexplainably drawn to this image in his head of a place where something special was supposed to happen. So too we were all drawn to Michael’s memorial as we had all been previously drawn to some place within our souls by Michael Brecker’s music. He was the communicator, the inexplicable magnet for all of us of like ilk. He allowed us to see that we are all connected in some strange but flowing way. He touched our hearts and stirred our souls because through his brilliant playing and apparently through his exemplary life he was able to show us that there is a better way. A way that transcends the day to day crises that we all face and that he surely faced toward the end of his life. A way that overcomes as he most certainly did. The brief but poignant Buddhist ceremony at the end of the memorial punctuated this solidarity of feelings. I will listen to his music again and again and I will remember with fondness and appreciation all the light and energy that he radiated on his quest, a journey that I and many others will never cease to enjoy through his recorded legacy.

© Copyright 2007 Ralph A. Miriello