Never in My Life...

My recent journey out at night to see the legendary Leslie West and Mountain at Wilbert's was a bit of a disappointment. Not only was the audience in short supply, but the artist must have felt affronted as well because he only played for a little over an hour. He got the classics in but in the end, he was only a mere shell of his former self.

It was the first eight-track I ever owned; 'Best of Mountain," and because it was the first, it got played at least a hundred times before I purchased John Lennon's ‘Mind Games.’ It’s funny how certain songs or albums can get inside you and be played over and over with out burning-out.

How would you rate Sting today? (picture) It was a decent concert last winter at the convo center, but seemed to be lacking the punch that we all know he's got inside of him.

A friend and I were discussing vintage artists and their ability to stay relevant. The ‘Stones’ super bowl performance was just miserable for example. What happened to Dylan between 78-95? I came across the ‘Last Waltz' on HD last week for the very first time. What a classic! I was mesmerized by it. It took me back to my roots and re-awakened the musical junkie within. That stage was just full of raw energy and talent. Kudo’s to Scorsese in what must have been one of his first movies; actually a documentary.

Begs the question; what makes great artists sustain? Can only the exuberance of youth and frustration lead to true passion in music? Is it possible for great artists to keep at peak performance after accumulating untold wealth and comfort?

James Blunt. The first new artist I’ve experienced in a while that is coming right from the soul. Proves the sixties wasn’t the only basis for great music. Hope he stays tuned in.

‘Bring me a shot of whiskey… and a little bit of loving... too.’

Travelling Thru The Land of God...

It's easy to understand how small and worthless one's life is as you roll by millions of years of forming rock. This just outside of Vernal, Utah last Sunday.

I was once told by a wise old man how much you need to live for today. He should have known, he had seven bullet holes in and seven bullet holes coming out of his body. He lived a hard life in the neighborhood of E. 66th & Kinsman.

I was 14 at the time, he was 50-55. John Cole pressed cloths at the drycleaners next to the house where I grew up in Lakewood. I remember him being very old. He smoked unfiltered Lucky's and at almost any given moment, he had one dangling from his lips. I think he grew up in Georgia or Alabama, his mom eventually made her way to Cleveland to live with her brother, John's Uncle. In those days, he never really had a chance to make it on the mean streets of Cleveland so eventually he found himself in Uncle Sam's Army--in Germany. Not one of those bullet holes came from war. At least not the kind suburban kids thought of as war.

Even though he had every right to be a very angry black man, he was one of the most courteous, wise and penetrating souls of my entire childhood. Sure he cussed and loved telling me the stories of his own youth, stories which seemed unreal and quite separated from my own troubled times--but then, that's why I probably related to him. I never really fit into the whole suburban scene as a kid. We left all my childhood friends back on the near west side in 3rd grade.

John never took drugs and couldn't understand the kids that did at the time. He refused to even let me sip part of his cold Stroh's at the end of a hot summer day in that steam room. I never told him so at the time, but I respected him for that. He also taught me to just let it all go at times. "Can't control the world, kid" John would say, "but you can control what ya say bout it...and who you say it to!" "Never waste time arguing with your shadow," he always lamented me.

Now that I'm almost 50 myself, I don't think John was that old anymore. Funny heh? I increasingly come to remember him at certain times. I don't know when John Cole passed from this world but I'm certain he no longer breaths with us. I thought of him as I passed thru the Uintah basin last weekend. I stopped to take this picture soon after he came to me. I call this shot ‘John's Cliff’s’. It reminds me of the wise, proud, stoic and strong influence he was in the days of my youth.

Much like the cliffs in this picture, I hope I argue much less with the shadows these days.

Where Do We Get Our Arrogance From?

The following being an excerpt from the indictment of Mr. Noe in Federal Court:

...The Purpose of the Conspiracy
The purpose of the conspiracy was for defendant THOMAS W. NOE to make prohibited campaign contributions totaling $45,400 to Bush-Cheney '04, Inc. without being detected by the FEC or the public.

The Manner and Means of the Conspiracy
It was a part of the conspiracy that defendant THOMAS W. NOE, in order to fulfill a written pledge to raise $50,000 for the campaign at the fundraiser, used $45,400 of his funds to make campaign contributions over and above the legal limits and concealed the true source of the contributions by making the contributions in the names of other individuals, known as "conduits." It was a part of the conspiracy that NOE requested that each conduit contribute money to Bush-Cheney '04, Inc. in his or her own name and attend the fundraiser. It was a part of the conspiracy that NOE would recruit other individuals, referred to herein as "super-conduits," who would not only act as conduits but would also recruit additional conduits and pass finds from NOE to those additional conduits. It was a part of the conspiracy that before and after the fundraising event, NOE provided funds from his National City Bank account for 24 conduits and super-conduits as an advance on or reimbursement for their contributions; all but one of the conduits and super-conduits contributed the maximum permissible amount, with some adding small amounts of their own money to NOE's...

Remember, this is an indictment. Mr. Noe has not been convicted of the above charges.

Most who know me know that I vote democrat so I'll disclose that up-front. I am a self-admitted centrist democrat, both fiscally and socially, and realize our country has a lot of diversity and challenges that should be addressed from leaders that can see both sides of an argument. Like Clinton, who I once ran as a delegate for, I truly believe we need to keep both ends of our political spectrum in sight so that our ship does not sail too far to one end, taking all of us over the edge with it.

I can't help but wonder if the democrats would be as blatant with their hold on power though? Maybe I'm looking at history with rose-colored glasses and a short memory. This state was once controlled by Dem's for almost 14 years. I don't ever recall such subversive behavior to achieve a political end. And this from the party of family values? Have we ever witnessed such a colossal demonstration of greed, arrogance and subversion before? On a state or federal level?

Can the hope for a new, rebuilt democratic party in Ohio only lay at the footstep of the dysfunction that the republicans are responsible for? Is there any way democrats can create a new direction and vision for leadership that goes beyond just maintaining power? Can it happen with the current democratic leadership ranks?

Eighteen and I Like It

As 2005 begins to unwind, I find myself looking over the shoulder of my eighteen-year old a little more often these days. It doesn’t seem that long ago. Ouch!

We spent a good part of this year calling on colleges. Some far away, some right here in our own backyard. I’ve got to admit, it was quite a learning experience for everyone involved. Although I know most of the university presidents around here on a first name basis, I can’t say I really knew their business all that well—until this year that is.

The closest I came to college was visiting my buddies to party at Kent and BGSU in my late teens and early twenties. As easy as it was to get into those schools then (and believe me, they wouldn’t let either of my buddies into those schools now) it still wasn’t a place accepting of my scholarly standing.

Fortunately for me, I married a really smart girl and my daughter received more of her genes than mine.

From the iconoclastic campus of Stanford to the stately and gothic Boston College, what once was a far-fetched dream for me turned into quite a reality for my daughter this summer—and quite a decision.

Let’s see, should she consider a bucolic, sparse liberal arts college like Sarah Lawrence or the quite urbane NYU? Liberal-liberal Oberlin or the crowded campus of OSU? The studious University of Chicago or suburban-preppy Lake Forest?

The choice and differences between higher education facilities in this country is just mind-numbing. For her to be even able to consider one of these places is an accomplishment that astounds me—let alone trying to figure out which one is the right one for her.

But for all the brains god and my wife granted my daughter, it still seems to be coming down to a good old fashioned decisional crunch time. While she currently frets over the minutiae of application information, she still doesn’t have a worldly clue what she wants to do in her life. Arghh!

And that’s really OK with me; I would never want to push her in any particular direction. It just pains me to see her agonize over it; knowing the decision she needs to make right now, will shape much of what she learns—and ultimately does for the rest of her life. Maybe it was good thing I took the path I did?

She’s really blessed though. Good grades. Good study habits. Artist. Writer. Musician. Activist. She could choose any of a dozen or two paths and be incredibly successful.

And that’s the problem. Which place to go next in her life seems such an ominous decision. Unfortunately, there’s nothing a dad can do now except wait—and not push (words of wisdom from my wife.) The hardest part for me is just letting it be. She just told me I don’t understand girls. I guess I don’t.

But what I’m most left with after all this…

It really wasn’t that long ago that I held the little hand of a an infant girl with all the wants and worries a new dad can possibly possess. How can it be eighteen years already? The need to make a major life decision now is somewhat balanced for me by the pride of being able to hang in there for the last eighteen years and allow it all to go flowing by.

Five Years of Age

Can anyone explain the feeling that five year olds are able to create in fifty year olds?

To post or not to post...

Well, I finally did it... Got a blog set-up that is.

My friend John Ettorre warns if you don't have the time, it's really a waste of time; in other words, keep consistently writing if you want to be successful at it. And what a wonderful writer he is. Someone I envy for being so good at expressing himself.

I don't know if I have the chops, but I'm willing to give it a try. I did start a blog some time ago with my friend and founder of OneCleveland, Lev Gonick. But since I only posted a couple of times, I won't count it.

The other person who has really inspired me to write over the years use to be my high school newspaper editor. I was a part-time hippy photographer in 1975 that could not conform and Kevin Miller took me under his wing. We lost touch with each other after high school but within the first few months of my becoming a full-time entrepreneur, I accidentally ran into him at a bar in Westpark. After a couple of snorts I talked him into joining me in business and we became good friends and business partners.

Kevin's a brilliant writer, producer and director and has gone on to win many national and international awards for his documentary films, including the one I won with him at the 1990 International Television and Film Festival of New York; “Kids in Crisis.” His passion stayed with filmmaking, mine drifted towards computers, we parted business lives but have stayed close friends since. Kevin is one of those lone entrepreneurs I always talk about in this community. Creative and inspiring with no interest in building a fiefdom—just committed to great work.

Anyway, I got into a heated argument with Kevin last Sunday in the kitchen of my home for not using his god given talent for communicating by blogging on his life's work. All he gave me back was a bunch of bull about being too busy, having to raise two boys by himself and blah, blah, blah, blah and blah. It wasn't until after I wanted to deck him that I realized I wasn't even drinking my own kool-aid (and before my wife adeptly pointed it out to me as well.)

So here it is. I hope I can sustain it but I intend to talk about all kinds of things digital and community and welcome the interaction with the rest of the blogsphere.

rkc

My Time in Carolina

Welcome to my first blog posting. Rather than greek text, I've posted a photo from a recent trip to North Carolina. The geometry impressed me more than the color.

Be back soon....