WOW IT FEELS LIKE SPRING!

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-31-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Yes, it feels like spring, but IS it? We've had a lot of bait-and-switch regarding spring this year. We get a 70-degree day, I put away my winter coat and gloves, and BOOM, like Lucy jerking the football away from Charlie Brown's foot, it's gone again. Crocuses are unreliable. They're so eager, they'd come up in January if they thought they would be adored. And like that guy who talks REALLY low and REALLY fast at the end of a car sales ad to give you a dose of bad news after you got your hopes up, there's more rain at the end of the rainbow.

     March is supposed to come "in like a lion" and go "out like a lamb." But with the vagaries of climate change the whole month is being lionized like never before. It's like someone fed March a raw carcass at the end February and we're suffering from the bitter aftertaste. It's more like a wolf in sheep's clothing (okay now I'll stop).

     But I hear that this time spring is finally here, and do you know who I heard it from? Frogs. Frogs never lie, and they're croaking away in the pond out there, trying to attract a mate. And yet, they're all saying the SAME DAMN THING. If I was trying to impress a member of the opposite sex (and these days it's harder to tell which ones are opposite) I would try to distinguish myself using wit and guile. For instance, my cat said something the other day that made me lean closer and really listen. She opened her mouth and meowed but nothing came out, and I have to say I was intrigued. I mouthed the words, "What?" with no sound and she did it again. This went on for longer than you'd expect, but at least we had a conversation. Who knows where it might lead? Try to stand out from the pack if you want to put a little spring in your spring.

     My wife says it's really spring this time because woodpeckers are out pecking in the morning. I understand there are times when you feel like you're banging your head against the wall, but to do it ON PURPOSE so fast that you're essentially playing 64th notes with your face doesn't seem like a well-thought-out plan to me. Why don't they pull the worms out of the ground like everybody else? If the thought just never occurred to them then they are not on the evolutionary fast track.

     I work in television, and I can tell it's spring because the programs that were "America's Most Talked-About New Shows" in the fall have disappeared and not one American has talked about it. Another sign that the season has changed is the initiation of Daylight Savings Time. This is where we set the clocks ahead, I lose an hour of sleep and two sets of tennis the next day. Why is Daylight Savings Time wasting my time in the middle of the night instead of during the day? Why not set the clocks ahead one hour just when "Fox and Friends" is about to start?

     There is legislation afoot to make Daylight Savings Time a permanent thing, which means that I'll permanently lose two sets of tennis. Why not move the clocks ahead four hours so that it's still light out at midnight and I can get a suntan under the cover of darkness?

     I for one am happy to thaw out because during the winter I can never get the temperature of my house exactly the way I want it, like I can in my car. There always seem to be pockets of cold weather in various places that you wouldn't expect, and in other places it's cozy warm. If I had that little dial that I have in my Dodge Dart that's half red and half blue, I bet I could get it just right. And while we're at it I'd also like those buttons that point the heat either at my face or at my feet, or both.

     My friend Paul hates spring because to him it means summer is on the way. But if that's the case he should love summer because it means fall is on the way. I'm all in favor of the warm weather, I don't have to put on shoes, my coffee doesn't get cold in the car, and people at the beach look so much better without a down parka. You may love it and you may not but spring is finally here, just ask a frog. And while you're at it, give him a little kiss. You never know- you might get yourself a handsome prince, although most female frogs would tell you that this method is hit or miss, at best.

GREEN MOUNTAIN STATE OF MIND

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-24-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     We took a long-weekend final ski trip of the season up to Stowe, Vermont, where we had rented a wonderful "ski-in, ski-out" condo. I got off to a rocky start, but I guess I should have put the skis on AFTER I went down the stairs. You've never seen me ski so I might as well just come out and say it: I am an expert skier. I could ski the black diamonds if I wanted to but I haven't used up my insurance deductible yet. I stick to the green and blue trails because they're longer and more scenic. It would be nice to have a more descriptive color scheme. I almost killed myself on an intermediate hill, and at the bottom I was yelling to no one in particular, "That was a blue slope? That was a dark navy, if anything, perhaps bordering on steel-gray." Excuse my blue language, but naming ski slopes is not for the color-blind.
     At Stowe you can ski trails with names like "Hacksaw" and "Nosedive." Names that represent ways that I could injure myself at home without having to spend $150 bucks on a lift ticket. I was looking around the map for something that would reflect a challenging, demanding run, something that would bring out the athlete in me but not attract daredevils skiing out of control. Maybe a trail name like "Kitten," or "Pillow," or "Naptime" would be the right one for me. A saw that there was a gondola at the bottom, how romantic! I picture a mustachioed gondolier rowing us up the mountain, maybe singing something in Italian, like "Row, row, row your boat."

     It's safe to say that Vermont is a different species than New York. There was a sign on the highway that said MOOSE- STAY ALERT. I'm not exactly sure if the sign was for him or me, but I realized I had never seen a moose in person, and not just because I wasn't alert. They don't have mooses in the zoos or game parks that I've ever been to, so I guess you could say that no moose has seen me in moose, either. It can't be because they favor the cold climate, because I've seen panda bears, polar bears and even bipolar bears. Perhaps they don't do well in captivity. Neither do I- it's been exactly two years now. 

     There is a lot of headwear in Vermont. Knit caps and baseball hats are very popular, and they wear them even indoors at the local tavern. It seemed like they were expecting inclement weather to break out inside the bar, or worse yet, a baseball game. We saw a fabulous bluegrass band and they were so lively my feet couldn't keep still. The rest of me was tired from skiing and didn't budge, so it must have looked a little strange. 

     They're pretty progressive up there, and it shows up just about everywhere. At the restaurant you could order vegetarian, vegan, ovo-vegan or even lacto-ovo-vegan, where you order a free-range chicken but your plate shows up with just part of the range. I'm a reverse-vegan, I wait around for whatever they refuse to eat. I could order the "impossible burger," but why bother, with odds like that?

     There was a shop that sold "artisan coffee," whatever that means. I picture an artisan with a block of wood and a chisel, sculpting a spectacular cup of coffee that will stand the test of time. If it stands the test of time for more than five minutes, it's too cold for me to drink so it better look really good on a pedestal in my atrium.

     As we were ready to leave we noticed that gas prices had shot up through the roof, and now I understood why you should wear your hat indoors. The price went up 50 cents a gallon from the time I started pumping until the time I finished. Excuse my crude language, but crude oil prices have that effect on you right now. Remember cash? You might have to figure out how to use it again, because it's a boatload cheaper at the pump. Maybe they should add a third price for Venmo? They used to list the price per gallon to a tenth of a penny, like 1.99 and 9/tenths. I always wanted to buy exactly one gallon, give the kid two bucks and ask for change just to see what would happen. Now you can just round it off to the nearest dollar.

     Vermont has it all, artisan coffee, craft beer, mulled cider and fresh maple syrup. And if none of that tickles your fancy, they sell worms at the supermarket. So if your dinner date doesn't like your menu, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.
 

HERE, THERE AND EVERYWHERE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-17-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     Now is a great time to get out and see some live music for the very good reason that you CAN. We went to see a fun concert at the Ridgefield Playhouse, a bunch of great musicians coming together to pay tribute to "Rubber Soul" and "Revolver," two of the greatest Beatles albums. Todd Rundgren, Christopher Cross, Denny Laine and members of Chicago and Badfinger were there to play the Beatles' as well as their own hits.

     People who think that it all started with the Beatles don't know much about music, and they know even less about petty theft. Any of the four would be the first to tell you that they lovingly stole from the artists they admired. "Please Please Me" borrowed the idea of holding one note while the second voice sang a descending melody from the Everly Brothers' "Cathy's Clown," and the high-pitched "Ooohs" during "Twist and Shout" and "I Want to Hold Your Hand" were lifted right out of Little Richard's playbook. And when Denny Laine with the Moody Blues, and Todd Rundgren with Nazz and others took that Liverpool sound and ran in different directions with it, the Beatles built further on their sounds once again, essentially stealing from themselves, which is a brilliant business model only in music.

     The songs hold up just fine after more than 55 years. "She Said She Said" is incredibly complex and yet you can still sing it in the shower. If you can't hit the high notes, put the hot water on full. Anyone who thought Ringo is anything less than a fantastic drummer should listen to this song and then call him up to apologize. The "middle 8" is in a weird meter so don't try to dance to it or you'll sprain your ankle.

     "Michelle" is a song idea that would never occur to me because I took Latin in school instead of French. French is a language a girl like Michelle might like whispered in her ear, whereas everything you whisper in Latin sounds like a state motto. Plus nothing sexy rhymes with "agricolae."

     They did a great job on difficult Beatles songs like "Nowhere Man." The difference between the Beatles and most bands is that "Nowhere Man" is a timeless song and a top-ten hit in their hands. For most bands it's simply be the answer to the question, "Dudes, we've been trying to write this song for three hours. Where is this going?"

     The encore was "Yellow Submarine," which is a great sing-along. On the original record their girlfriends and some of the Rolling Stones did just that. Part of being a pro in the business for many decades is not necessarily knowing the song backwards and forwards, but what to do if you don't. If you think the end chorus repeats 8 times but everyone else in the band thinks it goes 6, then just clap your hands over your head and yell out to the audience, "Everybody! Let me hear you!" And we were happy to take the chorus another 16 bars until we surfaced again and it was time to go.

     One of the things that impresses me most when I think of the Beatles is their artistic generosity, and how it came to pay them back many times over. By calling all the material "Lennon-McCartney" songs, they included each other in a process that most people would try to hoard. And in return it opened the door for contributions, a bridge here, lyrics there, that when you think of the songs you can't imagine without them. Another example was their faith in George Martin's innovative embellishments. The Beatles had become a bigger deal than the invention of the wheel, and in some cases more useful. I can imagine a thousand peevish, petulant, pouting punks who would have flicked their cigarette in George Martin's direction and said, "You're going to record a Baroque string quartet as the only backing to my song? Thanks but instead I'm going to shred a screaming, one-note lead break through most of it and then order a burrito."

     The Beatles aren't around to play these songs anymore, so I appreciate the opportunity to hear them rendered by great musicians, some of whom have played with the four lads. If I had been at those concerts back in the '60s they would have been even louder than they were, with 30,000 screaming girls, and me yelling, "SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!" at the top of my lungs. The Ridgefield Playhouse is a friendly, intimate theater with great sound. It's a non-profit organization, much like most of the bands I've ever been in, but in their case it's on purpose.

THECUTEST DOG INTHE WORLD

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-10-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     This is nothing against your dog, whom I'm sure is a very nice dog, but my dog is the cutest dog in the land. Gidget is so good-looking that if she was an actress she would always be griping that she's not taken seriously and is never be considered for dog scientist-type roles because she is not "believable." If you look back on Racquel Welch's career, she was victimized by the same tye of bias and was never cast in dog scientist roles either.

     Kids love Gidget because she looks like a stuffed animal. "Can we pet your dog?" They ask. Moms are pretty good about teaching their kids to respect dogs and asking their owners if they're friendly. More often you should ask the dog if the owner is friendly. Gidget glances at Mom to try to ascertain if the kids are going to poke her or screech at her but Mom already has the phone out to take a picture of the kids poking and screeching at the cute dog. 

     "What kind is she?" Mom asks. Gidget is a purebred Eurasier, which is in the Spitz family. Her breed is part Samoyed, part Chow Chow and part Keeshond. A little bit European, a little bit Asian, a little bit country and a little bit rock & roll. "How old is she?" She is seven, but I found out that each dog year is not really seven human years, but a complicated logarthim where the first year is equal to about 14 years and then, after the second year you multiply your dog's age by four and then add 21. If your dog lies about its age you'll need a slide rule.

     Some things you should know about a Eurasier: They love cats, and I wouldn't be surprised to find the cat sitting on the dog's lap, except that it's hard to locate a lap on a dog, even when it's sitting down. A Eurasier is also fussy about its food and sometimes won't eat for days when it's on vacation. When I leave the restaurant I ask for a "doggy-bag," and I actually have to give it to the doggy. She still won't eat it until she sees how angry I am that I'M not eating it.

     She's pretty well-trained, and I'm not quite sure how she got that way since it doesn't run in the family. However, she won't respond to traditional words like "come" or "heel" or "lie down" or any of the commands that my Dad used to use on us around the house. It would be too confusing if my wife said "fetch" and Gidget and I point to each other and say, "I think she's talking to YOU." It's easiest to train a Eurasier to do things she might be inclined to do anyway. We've taught her the commands, "IGNORE!" and "LICK!" and "YAWN!" and she has done so well that I can almost see her as a service dog, as long as you don't mind doing the actual services.

     Not sure how she'd do as an emotional support dog, because she is quite sensitive and will shiver at the sound of loud noises, even at a Medicare health plan commercial if Joe Namath is shouting about PLAN C COVERAGE. You have to be careful not to watch a movie with her that does not have a happy ending. Come to think of it you'd better handle the emotional support part yourself.

     She is very intelligent. We're teaching Gidget to pick her toys out of her toybox and bring them over to us while we're watching TV. I say, "Gidget, give me Squeakie," and (if it's the one on top) she'll bring us Squeakie for the price of one treat. She has a particular toy, I don't know what it's supposed to be but it looks like a stuffed coronavirus. I say, "Gidget, give me the coronavirus," and she'll give it to me faster than a Qanon conventioneer.

     She doesn't shed a lot, but before our Super Bowl party Gidget went to the beauty parlor to get her hair cut and styled, a mani-pedi and a shampoo. It costs my wife an arm and a leg to get the same stuff done, and remember, Gidget has two arms and two legs so do the math. I don't know if they exfoliate my dog while she's there, but I foliate her beforehand to make sure I get my money's worth. When she comes back from the doggy day spa both ends of her look remarkably similar and equally attractive.

     She's a great companion and seems almost human sometimes, only without the downside; she doesn't eat garlic, never mentions any issues with my hair and she literally NEVER says "literally." I'll give you one more piece of advice, which is that it really is best to let sleeping dogs lie, because when they're awake they always tell the truth.

A MASS. EXODUS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (03-03-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     We made a trip to Massachusetts last weekend, I wish it were under happier circumstances, but any excuse to get out of the house and see some old friends is welcome. I'm at the age where I am an old friend and an OLD friend. The trip was a few hours long, and it helps to be entertained by interesting conversation while I'm driving. By definition, that means a conversation that I am not in. The one that I'M in is a running commentary of a discourse of subjects ranging from the mundane to the inane. 

     By the time I had run out of mundane, the exchange gravitated toward a discussion of current films, on which I am something of an expert since I have been to two screenings in the past two years. The discussion was more about the subjects producers are choosing to make films about, not actually the films themselves. It's been pretty much just Batman, but they've gone down an interesting path this time by calling the new one "The Batman," as opposed to the simple and boring "Batman." We surmised that there are many more movies that could be updated and improved by this type of artistic re-imagining. Producers, if you're out there, contact me to take this off-line when I'm not in the middle of driving around a roundabout that I can't get out of, but what about a film called, "The Casablanca" or "The Gone With the Wind?" How about this little nugget of genius: "The The Godfather?"

     If you just want to stay within the Batman franchise I get it, stick to what works, but we even mined some new territory there. What about "Bat Cat," which explores the dark and complicated reasons that Bat Cat got into crime fighting in the first place, such as there being only one litter box, etc. Or even "Batman," only this time it's a bat dressed like a human, living a normal bat life at night and fighting crime during the day, and catching a quick nap upside down on the office Xerox machine legal paper tray when he gets tired. There are a lot of different ways we could go, so give me a call.

     The whole car ride we had the Sinatra station playing on satellite radio, and it's mind-boggling how many songs Frank Sinatra recorded. If you wrote a song between 1939 and 1984 and you DIDN'T want Sinatra to record it, you had to hide it someplace where he would never find it, like in between two yogurt containers or something. Some of the songs were masterpieces, some were really good, and a surprising amount of those songs had REALLY dumb lyrics. Like the song about coffee in Brazil where he sings: "You date a girl and find out later, She smells just like a percolator." That kind of thing. 

     I had my wife Google how many songs Sinatra recorded and it was something like 1,350. Then I made her Google how many dumb songs he recorded, and Google refused to say, which I found surprising, because algorithms are always trying to show off how much like humans they are, and how they can think anything that humans can. It's possible that Google thought these weren't dumb lyrics: "Heaven rest us, I am not asbestos." Or maybe it was just trying to be nice or is still a even little afraid of Sinatra (he could be intimidating).

     Then the conversation drifted to New England itself, and how a lot of historical places and landmarks here are actually quite old. Perhaps we need a NEWER England, at least update the place a little, install some vinyl siding on some of these hell-holes from the 1700s.

     In what seemed like only four hours, three hours had passed and we were at the hotel. You know you've made it to Massachusetts when there's a sign in the lobby that says "NO HOCKEY STICKS OF ANY SIZE," and there was a picture of a hockey stick (small sized) with a red line drawn through it. And wouldn't you know it, my wife dropped her smartphone right on its noggin, and it started to remember only certain things, like it had amnesia in a soap opera. It could remember how to get to the restaurant, but nothing about our previous relationship, nor anything about Frank Sinatra.

     What's the point of all this? It was just a bunch of idle conversation, probably idler than usual, and that IS the point. If you turn off your phone, even for a little while, you can have one yourself. We chatted almost the whole trip, about next to nothing. By the time we had gotten to where we were going, we had gotten nowhere at all. Sometimes that's the best place to be.