I've been away for the last 10 days, on vacation in North Carolina. 10 days is a looong time ago.
Hell, even as a write this on Monday morning, it still hasn't been a full week since the Boston Marathon bombings took place, never mind the craziness of the manhunt, lockdown and capture in the days that followed.
It was pretty weird to be away from here while all this was taking place.
On the one hand, watching it unfold on TV in North Carolina was almost like being home, because the NC stations often just carried the feed from local Boston stations. We saw familiar faces and heard familiar voices, talking about familiar places---it was like watching it at home.
And on the other hand, we were removed from it all. There was a bit of a disconnect, since we weren't among a population that was in the thick of it.
On Saturday morning, we started our trek off Ocracoke Island, and the long drive up the Outer Banks. The last stop before crossing the bridge back to the mainland is a rest stop at the Monument to the Wright Brothers at Kittyhawk. While our gang used the facilitites, I took a moment to look at Facebook to see what was going on among my friends.
"Did Papi just drop the F bomb?"
There were a good dozen friends who posted this or something similar, moments after David Ortiz addressed the crowd, the City Of Boston and the World before Saturday's Red Sox game.
We got back on the road, and I found the game on the radio.
When they brought out Neil Diamond to sing "Sweet Caroline," we turned it up, and I looked over at my wife. We both had tears in our eyes.
Why?
While going through a range of emotions over the course of the week---scared, shocked, saddened, angry, worried, relieved---neither of us had cried.
Why now?
We talked about it, but couldn't quite wrap our hands around the answer.
Was it a release? Was it a connection to the City as a community? Was it simply the power of music?
I can't say.
But I watched it again this morning, and teared up all the same.
Thanks Neil.
See the video on Youtube.
Hear the original on Youtube.
Showing posts with label Fenway Park. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fenway Park. Show all posts
Monday, April 22, 2013
Monday, July 2, 2012
Bill Haley & The Comets "Rock Around The Clock"
My Great Grandfather helped build Fenway Park. How about that!
I had no idea, but learned this via the Baccari Family's Facebook Group, earlier this year. My Mom's cousins started the group, to put together a family reunion for the many generations that have descended from my mother's mother's parents, and family members have been posting pictures and telling family stories online.
My Great Grandfather was a mason who worked on what sports fans consider the holiest of baseball shrines, to the most American of Pastimes. He took pride in his work, and I learned (on the 100th Anniversary of Fenway Park this year), and that he was apparently in the stands on opening day to enjoy the game!
You know what my Great Grandfather did not do very well?
Speak English.
Not that he was unintelligible. Or non-conversant in English. What I mean, is that he was an Italian immigrant. English was not his first language. He worked at it, and did his best. But he spoke with an accent that any "Real American" would peg as "foreign."
I remember being in my early 20s, walking through a Mall with my Mom. Two workers (wearing shirts from one of the local stores, but on-break, walking near the Food Court) walked past me and my Mom, speaking a language I did not understand.
"If you come here, you should speak English," my Mom said to me, off-handedly.
I spat out a retort: "Did Noni Pa speak English when he was with his friends? Did he speak English with a heavy accent?! Would you say the same thing to him?"
To her credit, she got it. And I think there is probably still a part of her that thinks about her own Grandparents, when she hears the sound of people who's first language is not English.
Bopping around Facebook, I see people posting "This Is America, Speak English or get the Fuck Out!!!" kind of blather, and yeah, I think of my Great Grandparents, who came from Italy as teenage immigrants.
My memories of my Great Grandather, Giovanni, who we called Noni Pa, are pretty limited, so I only have a vague sense of the quality of his English. He died when I was young. But his wife Donata lived into her 90s. And despite her 70+ years in this country, her accent was so thick and her grammar could be so fractured, that I even in my late teens, I often had trouble understanding what she was saying.
Yeah, Noni Ma and Noni Pa didn't Speak English well enough by the standards of those who would post stuff like this:
You know what my Great Grandparents did do?
They loved the hell out of this country. Noni Ma crotcheted "God Bless America" and proudly displayed it in their home. They worked their asses off, starting their lives in America with virtually no money. They raised eleven kids (I know, I can hear the anti-immigration folks screaming "Anchor Babies!" right now). And those eleven kids raised generations of good Americans.
Giovanni and Donata begat children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren who are scientists and teachers and nurses and accountants and builders. Baccari Family members served in World War II, Korea, Iraq and Afghanistan.
And I just learned this week, a distant family member was inducted into The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. Noni Ma's nephew was Danny Cedrone, who was inducted in back in the Spring as a part of The Comets, Bill Haley's backing band. Cedrone is credited with as lead guitarist on Haley's version of "Rocket 88," which is considered to be one of the first Rock And Roll songs. And he played the solo on "Rock Around The Clock." People like Jimi Hendrix, Pete Townshend, Danny Gatton, Brian Setzer and The Reverend Horton Heat are just a few of the folks who have cited that solo as an influence on their work.
You can't get more American than Rock And Roll.
It's the 4th of July this week. People want to celebrate Real Americans.
The real Americans are the ones who built stadiums and fought in Wars and brought their instruments and fixed your wounds and ran the local charities and worked tirelessly to make sure their own kids grew up to be educated, hard-working, respectful citizens.
Our country was built by people who spoke with an accent you might find funny. And if you are too stupid to respect that, then maybe you are the one who doesn't know what it takes to be a Real American.
Hear the song on Youtube.
I had no idea, but learned this via the Baccari Family's Facebook Group, earlier this year. My Mom's cousins started the group, to put together a family reunion for the many generations that have descended from my mother's mother's parents, and family members have been posting pictures and telling family stories online.
My Great Grandfather was a mason who worked on what sports fans consider the holiest of baseball shrines, to the most American of Pastimes. He took pride in his work, and I learned (on the 100th Anniversary of Fenway Park this year), and that he was apparently in the stands on opening day to enjoy the game!
You know what my Great Grandfather did not do very well?
Speak English.
Not that he was unintelligible. Or non-conversant in English. What I mean, is that he was an Italian immigrant. English was not his first language. He worked at it, and did his best. But he spoke with an accent that any "Real American" would peg as "foreign."
I remember being in my early 20s, walking through a Mall with my Mom. Two workers (wearing shirts from one of the local stores, but on-break, walking near the Food Court) walked past me and my Mom, speaking a language I did not understand.
"If you come here, you should speak English," my Mom said to me, off-handedly.
I spat out a retort: "Did Noni Pa speak English when he was with his friends? Did he speak English with a heavy accent?! Would you say the same thing to him?"
To her credit, she got it. And I think there is probably still a part of her that thinks about her own Grandparents, when she hears the sound of people who's first language is not English.
Bopping around Facebook, I see people posting "This Is America, Speak English or get the Fuck Out!!!" kind of blather, and yeah, I think of my Great Grandparents, who came from Italy as teenage immigrants.
My memories of my Great Grandather, Giovanni, who we called Noni Pa, are pretty limited, so I only have a vague sense of the quality of his English. He died when I was young. But his wife Donata lived into her 90s. And despite her 70+ years in this country, her accent was so thick and her grammar could be so fractured, that I even in my late teens, I often had trouble understanding what she was saying.
Yeah, Noni Ma and Noni Pa didn't Speak English well enough by the standards of those who would post stuff like this:
You know what my Great Grandparents did do?
They loved the hell out of this country. Noni Ma crotcheted "God Bless America" and proudly displayed it in their home. They worked their asses off, starting their lives in America with virtually no money. They raised eleven kids (I know, I can hear the anti-immigration folks screaming "Anchor Babies!" right now). And those eleven kids raised generations of good Americans.
Giovanni and Donata begat children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren who are scientists and teachers and nurses and accountants and builders. Baccari Family members served in World War II, Korea, Iraq and Afghanistan.
And I just learned this week, a distant family member was inducted into The Rock And Roll Hall Of Fame. Noni Ma's nephew was Danny Cedrone, who was inducted in back in the Spring as a part of The Comets, Bill Haley's backing band. Cedrone is credited with as lead guitarist on Haley's version of "Rocket 88," which is considered to be one of the first Rock And Roll songs. And he played the solo on "Rock Around The Clock." People like Jimi Hendrix, Pete Townshend, Danny Gatton, Brian Setzer and The Reverend Horton Heat are just a few of the folks who have cited that solo as an influence on their work.
You can't get more American than Rock And Roll.
It's the 4th of July this week. People want to celebrate Real Americans.
The real Americans are the ones who built stadiums and fought in Wars and brought their instruments and fixed your wounds and ran the local charities and worked tirelessly to make sure their own kids grew up to be educated, hard-working, respectful citizens.
Our country was built by people who spoke with an accent you might find funny. And if you are too stupid to respect that, then maybe you are the one who doesn't know what it takes to be a Real American.
Hear the song on Youtube.
Friday, August 7, 2009
The Beatles / Paul McCartney "Blackbird"
I saw Paul McCartney at Fenway.
It was incredible. No surprise there. I mean, the man has hit after hit after hit. He could have just played the first few bars of 50 different songs, and that would have been enough for the crowd to be apoplectic.
Earlier in the week, my wife had gone to see Coldplay in concert. On the way into Fenway, we were talking about how Coldplay’s songs, like U2’s, are stadium-ready. Their anthemic nature worked really well in the less intimate setting of an outdoor venue.
Paul has no shortage of anthems, and he pulled out the BIG songs, including “Day In The Life,” “Jet,” and a totally over the top “Live And Let Die” complete with flashpots and fireworks.
But the amazing surprise of the night was his ability to pull off quiet songs. Can you imagine being able to pluck an acoustic guitar, and have 30,000 plus people sit in rapt attention?
Paul introduced “Blackbird” as a song he’d written in response to the Civil Rights movement of the 60s, then rendered it beautifully on guitar. It was magic, how something so massive could be so intimate and moving.
I don’t know if the video captures it, but here’s a bit of footage my wife took on her camera, as well as the original song.
Hear The Beatles "Blackbird"
See the video shot by the lovely Mrs. Finn, Here
It was incredible. No surprise there. I mean, the man has hit after hit after hit. He could have just played the first few bars of 50 different songs, and that would have been enough for the crowd to be apoplectic.
Earlier in the week, my wife had gone to see Coldplay in concert. On the way into Fenway, we were talking about how Coldplay’s songs, like U2’s, are stadium-ready. Their anthemic nature worked really well in the less intimate setting of an outdoor venue.
Paul has no shortage of anthems, and he pulled out the BIG songs, including “Day In The Life,” “Jet,” and a totally over the top “Live And Let Die” complete with flashpots and fireworks.
But the amazing surprise of the night was his ability to pull off quiet songs. Can you imagine being able to pluck an acoustic guitar, and have 30,000 plus people sit in rapt attention?
Paul introduced “Blackbird” as a song he’d written in response to the Civil Rights movement of the 60s, then rendered it beautifully on guitar. It was magic, how something so massive could be so intimate and moving.
I don’t know if the video captures it, but here’s a bit of footage my wife took on her camera, as well as the original song.
Hear The Beatles "Blackbird"
See the video shot by the lovely Mrs. Finn, Here
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