Category Archives: Digressions

Reflecting on Independence

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Ever since I was a kid I always loved the Fourth of July. At first, of course, I liked the fact that my grandmother let us play with minor pyrotechnics (i.e., sparklers) that we’d put out in the pool with a sizzle. But, even at a young age I had an appreciation for the central figure of the holiday, the Declaration of Independence. And as I got older, I grew even more impressed with our founding document.

With such efficiency of language, the Declaration of Independence beautifully sets forth — what I believe to still be true up to the present day — the fundamental underlying relationship that ties the state to the people its governs. And being the inherently legal document that it was, the Declaration lists the ways in which the King of England had violated that bind, and therefore the people had a “[right and duty] to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.”

While watching the moving protests in the streets of Tehran and, at the same time listening to the same pundits who just recently wanted us to obliterate Iran now show the Iranians their heartfelt support, I kept thinking about America’s own revolutionary past and its present dislike for armed revolution. Continue reading

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Seasons and Longing

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I only ever really feel homesick at the change of each season. And now that summer is very much upon us, especially in Madrid where it has been consistently over 90F (32C) for the second straight week, I very much miss home. I miss my brother’s rooftop in Brooklyn (though I have only been up there twice). I miss the drive from Washington to the Bronx through New Jersey. I miss the C&O Canal. I miss Georgetown. I miss the Washington humidity. I miss cooking out. I miss my mother’s garden. I miss the Bay Bridge. I miss the fruits and vegetables on the way to the Eastern Shore. I miss opening the window and being on the beach in Bethany. And I miss my family.

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I suppose I am lucky living in Europe. I am in wonderful Madrid and spend at least a little time each month in Paris, probably the most beautiful city in the world. Nevertheless, whenever the seasons change — from hot to cold, cold to hot or in between — I always miss home.

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American Socialism Defeats European Capitalism

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It’s ironic that the entire spirit and competitive structure of American professional sports is effectively socialism in practice – its anti-trust violating franchise system, player drafting, revenue sharing, salary caps, player unions, etc – while the European model is almost pure capitalism where only the fittest of the fittest survive, the rich teams always get richer, and the individual athletes have very limited bargaining power.

And guess who wins? Contrary to every belief dear to an American’s heart, the socialist, even communal American model, with its unexportable and indigenous sports, outperforms the Europeans every time. While American football, baseball, and basketball generate astronomical revenues, Europe’s under regulated football is an ongoing soap opera of corruption, scandal, negative balance sheets, and losses.

Who’d have thought that socialism could be more profitable, sustainable, and at least in the mind of Americans, more entertaining. And who’d have thought that the Americans, with considerably less skill, would beat the European champions at their own game (USA 2-0 Spain).

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Paris, Clichés and New Books

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I am in Paris again and as I have said before, just a little bit of sun turns this city into, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful places in the world. And I love Pont Neuf, which for some reason is my image of the city. Yes, I know this all sounds pretty cliché, but let me add another cliché into the mix: the bread really is that good.

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Another common cliché about Paris is the poor quality of service. Nevertheless, in my interactions so far with the French bureaucracy, I have experienced the opposite. In one instance, a public functionary was even suspiciously pleasant. Taxi drivers and waiters are another question. While I would much rather eat food prepared in Paris, I would much rather eat it physically in Madrid where I don’t have to share the table with complete strangers while being barely attended to by someone who doesn’t like me.

Finally, Parisians are known for being pseudo-intellectual snobs. I can’t really attest to that, but the city definitely has an excellent cultural offering that simply wouldn’t exist without a demand for it. More importantly for me, Paris has a few excellent English language book stores, and now whenever I come to town, I refresh my reading list.

At the end of April I purchased three books all of which I have since finished and enjoyed: The Cosmic War by Reza Aslan, Drown by Junot Diaz and The Diving Pool by Yoko Ogawa. Yesterday I went back again and got copies of Olive Kitteridge, this year’s Pulitzer Prize winning book by Elizabeth Strout, Kazuo Ishiguro’s new Nocturnes, and Amos Oz’s latest novel, Rhyming Life and Death.

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Dressed to Kill

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Back in the 80s, I was into Break-dancing but not skating. Us break-dancers, if I recall, wore Chucks while skaters wore Vans. There were a few posers out there — as opposed to me — who tried to break-dance in their checkered Vans. I suppose as, a consequence, I was not the biggest fan of Vans.

Now a few years earlier, back in the late 70s, I was a big KISS fan. I had (and still have) eleven KISS albums on vinyl. My poor father even took me and a few friends to see KISS live in 1979 on their Dynasty tour, leaving him completely deaf for three days.

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That all brings me to today when I was meandering through Paris and strolled into the local Vans store for absolutely no reason whatsoever because, as I have just mentioned, I was not Van-friendly. Then, to my great surprise, I saw these amazing special KISS edition Vans. They even have the Solo Albums model. Of course, there is absolutely no reason in the world for me to purchase a pair or even wear them, but I feel tempted. Tempted, just like a school kid who wants that KISS lunch box or ridiculous Japanese rising sun bandana break-dance accessory.

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Learned it from you

My college roommate, Dave, and I used to get the biggest laugh out of this anti-drug commercial from the early 90s. And we weren’t even high.

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The Tree in the Woods

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I don’t really want to get into the whole “being is perception” debate about the proverbial tree falling in the woods. Nevertheless, I keep finding myself wanting to leave my music playing (at a modest volume) during brief absences from home. Here’s why: Continue reading

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Filed under Digressions, Jazz

Epistrophy

I am doing some serious spring cleaning on this holiday Friday (it’s San Isidro, the patron saint of Madrid) and trying to take my mind off of being infuriated by the tortuous logic behind Cheney’s rationalization that it’s alright for the executive branch to secretly and grossly break as long as they can allege, after the fact, that the crimes were in the interest of national security.

Helping to distract me is this fantastic version of Thelonious Monk’s “Epistrophy” performed here by Eric Dolphy. It’s from Last Date, one of Dolphy’s last recorded performance prior to his death. Dolphy is playing the bass clarinet and is accompanied by an all European rhythm section of pianist Misha Mengelberg, bassist Jacques Schols, and drummer Han Bennin.

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Rue Montorgueil

For the past year, I have been quite fortunate to be able to spend, on average, one week a month in Paris.

One of my favorite places to take a stroll is down the Rue Montorgueil, featured in the above video.

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Rabat Medina

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Last week I spent seven days in Rabat, Morocco with my future family-in-law. I always wish afterwords that I had taken more photos because the few that I do take never quite do the surroundings justice.

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In any event, here are two photos from Rabat’s medina (or old city quarter), built mainly by Muslims and Jews expelled from Spain in the 1600s (coming principally from Hornachos, Extremadura).

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