Chanukah – the festival of lights, begins this evening at sundown. At work, we had a company candle lighting ceremony, where I managed to scarf down an outstanding, obscenely calorie-ridden sufganiya filled with caramel, while at the same time explaining the holiday and the ceremony to a visiting colleague from Korea (who was already acquainted with said sufganiya, following a trip last week to one of the local bakeries with my officemate, who had an insatiable craving).
As I've mentioned in previous posts, I am a big fan of Tom Lehrer, so it seems only fitting that I wish all of my celebrating readers a happy Chanukah with Tom Lehrer's fabulous little holiday ditty…
Happy Chanukah to all, and to all a good night.
Chanukah in Santa Monica
Tom Lehrer
I'm spending Channukah in Santa Monica Wearing sandals, lighting candles by the sea I spent Shavuos in East Saint Louis A charming spot but clearly not the spot for me...
Those eastern winters, I can't endure 'em So every year I pack my gear and come out here til Purim
But in December there's just one place for me Mid the California flora I'll be lighting my menorah Like a baby in its cradle I'll be playing with my dreidel Here's to Judas Maccabeus, Boy if he could only see us
What do you get when you combine a restaurant-owner from Happy Days with a young cousin from Eight is Enough? If you guessed three Karate Kid movies, you'd be spot on. In one of the most successful movie series of the 80s, we were repeatedly brought back to the theaters to watch Pat Morita, who played Arnold on Happy Days, and Ralph Macchio, who played cousin Jeremy during the later years on Eight is Enough, as they showed us again and again that goodness always triumphs in the end (though not without quite a bit of sap along the way). Apparently, there was also a fourth Karate Kid flick made in the early nineties, which helped to launch the career of Hilary Swank, but given that I only discovered this earlier today, I confess that I never had the distinct pleasure of watching yet another Karate Kid film.
As a big fan of both television shows (they just don't make shows like they used to!), I was more than happy to witness the repeated pairing of this duo, and was saddened to hear of Morita's passing back in 2005. Macchio, of course, is still the guy who never really looks any older, despite the fact that he's 46 years old!
As I mentioned, there were three Karate Kid films that came out in the 80s. If I had to pick a favorite, it would have to be Karate Kid II, which came out in 1986. I saw it during the summer, while working as a staff babysitter at my old summer camp, though for the life of me, I can't fathom where there might have been a cinema close to Barryville, NY, which is where the camp was located. But I digress. I suppose I liked KK II the best because of the fact that it was set in Japan (despite being filmed on the Hawaiian island of Oahu), and I enjoyed learning bits about Japanese culture.
As much as I enjoyed the movie though, what really swayed me was the theme song. I'd always been a big fan of the band Chicago, and continued to enjoy the music of Peter Cetera even after he left the group and went solo. And of course, being the typical angst-ridden teenager who was always looking for that knight in shining armor, this song, not to mention the scenes shown while it was being played in the movie, struck a chord with me.
Glory of Love Peter Cetera
Tonight it's very clear As we're both lying here There's so many things I want to say I will always love you I would never leave you alone
Sometimes I just forget Say things I might regret It breaks my heart to see you crying I don't wanna lose you I could never make it alone
I am a man who will fight for your honor I'll be the hero you're dreaming of We'll live forever Knowing together that we Did it all for the glory of love
You'll keep me standing tall You'll help me through it all I'm always strong when you're beside me I have always needed you I could never make it alone
I am a man who will fight for your honor I'll be the hero you've been dreaming of We'll live forever Knowing together that we Did it all for the glory of love
Just like a knight in shining armor From a long time ago Just in time I will save the day Take you to my castle far away
I am a man who will fight for your honor I'll be the hero you're dreaming of We're gonna live forever Knowing together that we Did it all for the glory of love
We'll live forever Knowing together that we Did it all for the glory of love
We did it all for love We did it all for love We did it all for love We did it all for love
In the grand scheme of things, I've come to the conclusion that I'm a bit weird when it comes to remembering inane bits of trivia and assorted episodes from my past. I remember people much better than they remember me, and it can be rather alarming when I can spew the most minute, trivial details about past encounters when the person in question doesn't even remember my name. I've got a collection of birthdays filed away, mostly for friends whom I haven't spoken to in years, and I can remember my login name for my very first computer account (back in elementary school, when we used small black-and-white televisions as monitors and connected to the local network by dialing a certain telephone number and placing the receiver in a specially-designed piece of equipment).
I can remember plots from random episodes of 70s television shows, not to mention the names of actors and actress from various shows. In college, no one was more surprised than my roommate S when I was able to quickly name the actress/singer who played the role of Leather Tuscadero on Happy Days, and quite frankly, I'm not surprised that I actually remember how the subject came up. My friend C shares my appreciation for entertainment trivia, and our emails often incorporate these useless tidbits of knowledge to evoke memories and provoke raucous laughter on a regular basis (though chances are, no one else will get the joke but us...).
I'm also good at remembering numbers, whether it be dates, addresses, telephone numbers (a skill that's deteriorated with the advent of the cellular phone, of course), and so on. I can still remember my grandmother's phone number in Brooklyn, though the number hasn't been in service since 1984 or so, and I remember the phone numbers of some of my old neighbors in the town where I grew up. I can reel off my aunt and uncle's home address and phone number as necessary. Like many of my peers, I've memorized the mailing address for Zoom (that's 350, Boston, Mass, 02134), but I'm not sure that I can recite it without actually singing it as the Zoom kids did. I can also still do Bernadette's butterfly – can you?
Of course, for those of us who grew up in the 80s, there's one telephone number that none of us are ever likely to forget, belonging to a certain young lady named Jenny. Thanks to Tommy Tutone, an overwhelming number of telephone calls were made to increasingly frustrated individuals in a variety of area codes whose greatest misfortune was to have the phone number 867-5309.
867-5309/Jenny Tommy Tutone
Jenny Jenny who can I turn to you give me something I can hold on to now you think I'm like the others before who saw you name and number on the wall
Jenny I got your number I need to make you mine Jenny don't change your number 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309
Jenny Jenny your the girl for me you don't know me, but you make me so happy I tried to call you before but I lost the nerve I tried my imagination but I was disturbed
Jenny I got your number I need to make you mine Jenny don't change your number 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309
I got it, I got it, I got your number on the wall I got it, I got it, for a good time, for a good time call
Jenny don't change your number I need to make you mine Jenny I got your number 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309, 867-5309
Jenny Jenny who can I turn to (867-5309) for the price of a dime I can always turn to you
Ever gone on a date with someone while your leg was in a cast? I have. As I've mentioned before, I managed to break my leg only several weeks after arriving in Israel at age 18. During the weeks prior to my little mishap, a few friends and I met a group of young men at a (long-defunct) pub in Jerusalem. One of my friends immediately hooked up with one of the young men (immediately being an exchange of phone numbers, of course, and not a quick round of tonsil hockey that very same evening), and thus began one of the more interesting adventures of that year.
The young men we met were Armenian, and lived in the Armenian Quarter of the Old City. They told us about life in the Quarter and they invited us to parties that took place within the walls of the Quarter's convent (the convent was essentially a complex, and many Armenians lived within its walls, resulting in creative entries and exits once the convent gates were locked each night). We snuck them into our dormitory's second-story common room (through the porch door) after the house mother refused them entrance into the building (because they weren't nice Jewish Israeli boys), and we even learned a few words of Armenian (which sadly escape me now).
It was at one of the aforementioned convent parties that I met Aram. He was the DJ, and I was a girl with a serious crush. I didn't see Aram again until after I'd broken my leg. We all went downtown as a group, and believe me when I say that it's no easy feat to get from one end of Jaffa Road to the other with a full-leg cast and crutches. Soon after that, Aram and I made plans to go to a movie, and arranged that he would pick me up at my dormitory. I was excited, and while there was some lingering concern because I didn't know him very well, I reasoned that the cast on my leg, combined with the fact that the car only had two doors, would act as a deterrent in keeping things from going farther than I was prepared to go.
Aram picked me up in his black BMW (as I recall...), presented me with a red rose (which I keep to this day in its dried form), and then we went to see a film at the long-gone Edison Theatre. The film was "Top Gun", and to this day, whenever I hear the song I've chosen for today's 80s Music Video Sunday entry, I'm immediately transported back to that evening, twenty-one years ago, a time when Tom Cruise was just a talented young actor, and not someone prone to making an utter fool of himself on national television repeatedly. The song is Berlin's "Take My Breath Away".
Take My Breath Away Berlin
Watching every motion In my foolish lover's game On this endless ocean Finally lovers know no shame Turning and returning To some secret place inside Watching in slow motion As you turn around and say
Take my breath away Take my breath away
Watching I keep waiting Still anticipating love Never hesitating To become the fated ones Turning and returning To some secret place to hide Watching in slow motion As you turn to me and say
Take my breath away Take my breath away
Through the hourglass I saw you In time you slipped away When the mirror crashed I called you And turned to hear you say If only for today I am unafraid
Take my breath away Take my breath away
Watching every motion In this foolish lover's game Haunted by the notion Somewhere there's a love in flames Turning and returning To some secret place inside Watching in slow motion As you turn my way and say
As you've probably guessed by now, my sense of humor is often rather quirky and off-beat. I appreciate intelligent, wry commentary, and would be lying if I didn't say that one of my favorite pastimes is exchanging clever, witty banter with friends online, either via email or using any one of my growing collection of chat applications. The writer in me enjoys using words this way, and I find myself drawn to people who can keep up the pace. Words are both magical and powerful, and there are few things that attract my attention more than people who know how to use them well, especially if the words make me laugh and think, and allow for an ongoing exchange in the same vein.
I've had (and continue to have) friendships and relationships that began as a result of my admiration for an individual's writing skills, though obviously, the relationships, as they grew, were not solely based on this one trait. When it comes to entertainment, I tend to prefer high-brow stand-up comedy. Low-brow, lewd, sex jokes do not impress me, nor does the gratuitous use of swearing, for despite the fact that I can and do curse like a truck driver under certain circumstances, if you look carefully through this blog, you will find very few such words among my entries. It's not my style, and it's not the way that I choose to communicate while writing. As in my friendships, I gravitate towards performers who make me think as well as laugh, and if they can intelligently incorporate current events into the act, then so much the better. And because I'm sure that you're dying to know, yes, I do have a favorite. While not a stand-up comedian in the traditional sense, this individual's talent for side-splittingly humorous commentary is unparalleled.
Given my addiction to passion for current events and politics, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I would gravitate towards the material of the incredibly talented Tom Lehrer. His songs are timeless, and I sometimes find it rather shocking that lyrics he wrote in the early 1960s are just as relevant today as when they were originally written. I can't decide if that says more about his uncanny understanding of popular culture or the sadly predictable state of the world. I think I wore out my copy of "That Was the Year That Was", a live album released in 1965, and favorite tunes include "National Brotherhood Week" (a toe-tapping ditty about race relations), "MLF Lullaby" (a charming little tune about the Multilateral Forces), "Smut" ("I do have a cause, though. It is 'obscenity'. I'm for it...") and "Vatican Rag" (everything you wanted to know about Catholicism but were afraid to ask...). While I'm not going to link to all the songs on the album, if you're up for a laugh, I'd strongly recommend taking a glance at all of his lyrics, which can be found on this website. There are also clips for many of the songs on YouTube, which are definitely worth checking out.
As I mentioned above, many of his tunes are still relevant today, whether it be "So Long, Mom" (about a young soldier going off to fight in World War 3) or "Who's Next" (a song about the nuclear arms race). Check out the clip below for a spot-on assessment of American foreign policy.
(Lyrics for all Tom Lehrer songs can be found here.)
If you'd like to listen to "This Was the Year that Was" in full, some kind soul has been thoughtful enough to upload it to YouTube in sections:
Disclaimer: Drinking liquids is not recommended while listening to Tom Lehrer. If you choose to do so, it is at your own risk. Your snarfing is not my responsibility.
*The title of this post is the last line of the Tom Lehrer song "Folk Song Army".
Growing up in the 1980s, I'd never heard the term "hip hop", and "rap" was a fairly new phenomenon; at least it was for me. In my high school, we had students who did their best to emulate the "white-gloved one" by moonwalking, and we were all trying (and mostly failing, with few exceptions) to breakdance. Living in suburbia, our music of choice tended to be new wave, with some daring to go "punk". Looking back now at the artists and songs that were popular way back when, though perhaps distinct from other genres, they all more or less fit into the same mold, a mold that groups nearly all the songs of the day under the generic title of "80s" music.
That being said, there were also a number of songs that didn't fit the mold, songs that were so different as to be exciting, songs that took us by surprise and made us stop, think, and simply admire the originality. Today's choice is one such song, and not only does it fall into categories mentioned in this feature in earlier entries (songs with unintelligible lyrics performed by artists who meet the "one-hit wonder" definition), it's a song that was far ahead of its time in terms of its use of sound and technique.
When it was released in 1984, "Jam-On It" became an immediate hit. We all sang along, despite a complete inability to understand the lyrics (for a while, we were convinced that "jam-on it" actually rhymed with "Zamboni" which, as every hockey fan knows, is the machine used to resurface an ice rink). While the trailblazing artists behind this song, Newcleus, are still together, they have, as far as I know, never been able to match the success of "Jam-On It".
Jam-On It Newcleus
Yeah Jam on it (Yeah, yeah, we know, we know) Huh (Yeah, Goggles, you gonna rock it, right) (You gonna do it down, right) Ha-ha-ha-ha, yeah (Hey, Cozmo, what's the name of this again) (I forgot) Jam on it (Oh) (Oh, Chilly B, get down, ho) (Oh, oh, here comes Cozmo) (Ho) (We get to say wikki-wikki-wikki again)
Three words to the whack, step yourself back Just gettin' down, and you then you're givin' no slack Like a Burger King with a sack of Big Macs We're throwin' down with the radical sacks On time, in your mind you see You gotta boogie to your best ability You gotta funk it up until it knocks you down And when you're funkin' up, be sure to pass it around Come on, let's go to work We got what'll make your body jerk Make you throw your hands up in the air Shake your booty and scream, "Oh, yeah" 'Cause we are the Jam On Crew And jammin' on it is how we do the do We'll funk you up until you boogie down So come people check out the sound Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound Check out the sound
(Jam on it)
There's going to sound They're going to get down
(Jam on it)
Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Chilly B And I'm a surefire, full blooded bonafide house rockin' Jam-On Production MC If you want the best, put me to the test, and I'm sure you'll soon agree That I got no force 'cause I'm down by law when it comes to rockin' viciously, you see 'Cause when I was a little baby boy my mama gave me a brand new toy Two turn tables with a mic, and I learned to rock like Dolymite Time went by, on this God creation, I knew someday I would rock the nation So I made up my mind just what to do and I joined with the Jam On Production Crew So go crazy, go crazy, don't let your body be lazy I said don't stop the body rock till your eyesight starts to get hazy Clean out your ears and you open your eye, if you wanna hear the music just come alive If you don't know how get ready to learn 'Cause Cozmo's takin' his turn to burn
Take the "C" and "O" and the "Z" Then they add "M-O" and the freaky "D" Add a funky beat, and then what do you see It's Cozmo D, yeah, baby, that's me I've got the beat that's, oh, so sweet Without me rockin' it's incomplete So rock this, yo', rock that, yo' Rock on and don't you dare stop You rock this, rock that, and that's a fact 'Cause the Jam On Crew will rock your body right back Rock a steam locomo ride off the track And give the whole wide world a funk attack A to the beat y'all, get down Let me rock it to the rhythm of the funk sound From hill to hill, from sea to sea A when Jam On's rockin' everybody (Jam on it) Jam on it Jam on and on, on and on it And if you're feelin' like you wanna dance all night They go on ahead and flaunt it 'Cause jammin' on is what we do best It's what separates us from the rest And if you go deep, I'll cruise down for real Let me tell what happened to the man of steel
(Said Superman had come to town to see who he could rock) (He blew away every crew he faced until he reached the block) (His speakers were three stories high with woofers made of steel) (And when we boys sit outside, he said "I boom for real") He said, "I'm faster than a speedin' bullet when I'm on the set I don't need no fans to cool my a**, I just use my super breath I could fly three times around the world without missin' a beat I socialize with X-ray eyes, and ladies think it's sweet (And then he turned his power on and the ground began to move) (And all the buildings for miles around were swayin' to the groove) (And just when he had fooled the crowd and swore he wouldn't fight) We rocked this bet with a 12 inch cut called Disco Kryptonite Well, Superman looked up at me, he said, "You rock so naturally" I said now that you've learned to deal, let me tell you why I'm so for real I'm Cozmo D from outer space, I came to rock the human race I do it right 'cause I can't do it wrong That's why the whole world is singin' this song
(Jam on it) Jam on it I said jam-j-j-jam on it As days turn to night and night turns to day Whatever time it is i wanna hear you say (Jam on it) Jam on it I said jam on-on-on, jam on it Jam all around and upside down And keep jammin' to the Jam On Production sound
(Jam on it) Jam on it I said jam-j-j-jam on it I said Jam On is the funky beat that takes control With a sure shot boogie that'll rock your soul (Jam on it) Jam on it I said jam-j-j-jam on it Get outta your seat and jam to the beat And don't you dare stop till early mornin'
Jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it, jam on it
(Yeah, that's how you do it Cozmo) (You were right, kid, that's the way you do it) (Yeah, like did you see when he went in the corner) (And he started doin' this) (Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki) (Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki)
(Ah, man, this is too funky for me) (I'm goin' home) (Hey, Mergatroid, let's go) (Hey, you fellas seen my sister Mergatroid) (She was standin' over here just a minute ago) (Yeah, I think I saw her over there with Randy) (He's rockin' the mic, you know) (Diggy dang diggy dang da dang dang da diggy diggy diggy dang dang) (Diggy dang diggy diggy)
(The beat is fresh y'all) (Yeah, fresh)
Said don't you hear the sound Jam On is gettin' down
There's one band out there that can put me in a good mood more than any other group or solo artist. When depressed, I often put on one of their CDs (or cassettes) at high volume, and the music almost never fails to bring a smile to my face. If I've got a stack of dishes to wash or have to do some cleaning around the house, I know that I can do it faster if I'm singing along to this group.
The Beach Boys were formed back in 1961, and have been making music ever since. Changes to the group lineup may have slowed them down at times, but they always managed to roar back to life with their distinct, fabulous sound. I know the words to nearly all of their songs, and have seen them perform live twice. The first time was at Tanglewood, located in the beautiful Berkshires region of Western Massachusetts. I went with my friend Jenny, who had come for a visit so that we could go to the concert, and we stayed at my family's lakeside cabin in Lee. It was, of course, an amazing concert, and there are a few moments that I've managed to retain in my aging memory.
We went to the concert during the summer after I returned from my year in Israel. I still had pins in my ankle from having broken it while abroad, and when we wanted to stick around for a bit after the concert, I used my ankle as an excuse when a security guard asked us to leave. I told him I needed to rest for a bit and let him feel my ankle. The moment he realized that he was touching screws, he pulled his hand back as though he'd touched dog poo, said we could stay as long as was needed, and then ran away. When we finally decided to leave, we made our way to the parking lot. We found the spot where we'd left the car, or rather, where we thought we'd left the car. We couldn't find the car! We wandered around and around in the lot, wondering where the car had disappeared to. Suddenly, we noticed people walking past our parking lot, which is when we realized that there was more than one parking lot. Sheepishly, we joined the parade of post-concert goers and found our car just where we'd left it – in the other parking lot.
The second Beach Boys concert that I attended was at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center. It was a few days before my wedding (which would make it exactly 14 years ago, as our 14th anniversary is later this week), and I went with my soon-to-be husband and his sister; somehow, we'd managed to snag seats in the first row of the balcony. We sang along with the opening act, America (at least I think it was them), and once The Beach Boys came on stage, we started dancing as well. Lots of room to dance in the first row of the balcony, and the completely unobstructed view was simply outstanding.
Unfortunately, I haven't had a chance to get to any Beach Boys concerts since then. I keep waiting for them to come to Israel, but so far, there's been no "Love" on these shores. This band always makes me think of summer, and I couldn't think of a better way to celebrate mark the end of summer vacation than to feature a song by The Beach Boys for today's edition of 80s Music Video Sunday. And those of you who grew up watching TV in the 80s should definitely recognize the drummer...
Kokomo The Beach Boys
Aruba, Jamaica ooo I wanna take ya Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go Jamaica
Off the Florida Keys There's a place called Kokomo That's where you wanna go to get away from it all
Bodies in the sand Tropical drink melting in your hand We'll be falling in love To the rhythm of a steel drum band Down in Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take ya To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Ooo I wanna take you down to Kokomo We'll get there fast And then we'll take it slow That's where we wanna go Way down to Kokomo
To Martinique, that Monserrat mystique
We'll put out to sea And we'll perfect our chemistry By and by we'll defy a little bit of gravity
Afternoon delight Cocktails and moonlit nights That dreamy look in your eye Give me a tropical contact high Way down in Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take you To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Ooo I wanna take you down to Kokomo We'll get there fast And then we'll take it slow That's where we wanna go Way down to Kokomo
Port Au Prince, I wanna catch a glimpse
Everybody knows A little place like Kokomo Now if you wanna go And get away from it all Go down to Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take you To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
Ooo I wanna take you down to Kokomo We'll get there fast And then we'll take it slow That's where we wanna go Way down to Kokomo
Aruba, Jamaica, ooo I wanna take you To Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama Key Largo, Montego, baby why don't we go
While I've always enjoyed their music, for some reason, I never found myself mooning over Duran Duran the way that so many other females of my generation did back in the 80s. I suppose I liked their songs, but never felt the need to purchase their albums or buy tickets to their concerts. I wasn't drawn to them like I was drawn to so many other artists of the time, and I really can't put my finger on why that might be. Maybe I just found them to be too popular, and given that I was something of a loner, their music just didn't speak to me. Maybe they were just a bit too mainstream and too "pretty" for my tastes. Even today, while I certainly don't have a problem with their music, I can also admit that I don't really have any Duran Duran songs among my massive collection of 80s tunes (though I do have a bit of a soft spot for Simon LeBon, since discovering that he spent some time here on a kibbutz when he was younger).
That being said, though, there is one Duran Duran song that I've always really liked, and even went so far as to purchase the single. The sound, different from many of their other popular songs, really appealed to me, and still does. Enjoy!
(Sorry this post is so short – I'm totally swamped today and time is of the essence...)
Save a Prayer Duran Duran
You saw me standing by the wall, corner of a main street And the lights are flashing on your window sill All alone ain't much fun, so you're looking for the thrill And you know just what it takes and where to go
Don't save a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after No, don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after
Feel the breeze deep on the inside, look you down into the well If you can, you'll see the world in all his fire Take a chance (like all dreamers can't find another way) You don't have to dream it all, just live a day
Don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after No, don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after Save it 'til the morning after, save it till the morning after
Pretty looking road, I try to hold the rising floods that fill my skin Don't ask me why I'll keep my promise, I'll melt the ice And you wanted to dance so I asked you to dance But fear is in your soul Some people call it a one night stand But we can call it paradise
Don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after No, don't say a prayer for me now, save it 'til the morning after Save it 'til the morning after Save it 'til the morning after Save it 'til the morning after Save it 'til the morning after
I don't even remember his name anymore, but for a while, he was one of my pen pals. Back in the 70s and 80s, it was very much the in thing in certain crowds to have pen pals, whose names you received via a variety of organizations created especially to facilitate such cross-cultural connections. I filled out the forms, stating my interests and hobbies with care, and was shortly rewarded by my efforts with letters from boys my age (don't ask why they didn't present me with female pen pals – I have no idea!) who lived in Israel and Egypt. In this pre-Internet era, we exchanged letters for a while, but given the inherent difficulties of filling pieces of paper with handwritten words, carefully folding the pages so they'd fit in the envelope, addressing said envelope and determining the proper amount of postage needed, these pen friendships, while well-intentioned, did not last for too long.
If I were to spend a few days rummaging through my old keepsakes (all conveniently boxed when my parents moved house just under two years ago), I might find the old letters and photos, reminding me of long-forgotten facts and nuggets of information shared by my pen friends in Egypt and Israel, at a time when I was too young to know about global issues and conflicts, and wished only to make friends with people in far away lands (apparently, some things never change!). Though it's probably been around 25 years since these connections were made, there is one detail that I still remember – the boy from Israel was really into a band called Dire Straits.
I've always enjoyed their music, not least of which because Mark Knopfler wrote the score for one of my all-time favorite movies, "The Princess Bride". Given that today is Mr. Knopfler's 58th birthday, it seems only fitting that today's 80s Music Video Sunday entry feature this incredible band. And, as opposed to last week's entry that featured the first video ever shown on MTV in the US, today's video was the first video ever shown on MTV Europe, on August 1st, 1987. Clearly, Europe wanted their MTV...
The song "Money for Nothing" is shrouded in controversy. Written by Knopfler from the point of view of a blue-collar worker watching MTV, the lyrics were criticized as being anti-gay, sexist and racist, and the entire second verse was often edited out due to both its content and the overall length of the song in its complete version. This edited version later appeared on a Dire Straits compilation album. In some instances, the word "faggot" was apparently replaced by "mother". While I was rather naive when the song was released in 1985, today I'm more than a little surprised that the public was so accepting of lyrics that make me somewhat uneasy.
Money for Nothing Dire Straits
I want my I want my MTV
Now look at them yo-yos that's the way you do it You play the guitar on the MTV That ain't workin' that's the way you do it Money for nothin' and chicks for free Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it Lemme tell ya them guys ain't dumb Maybe get a blister on your little finger Maybe get a blister on your thumb
We gotta install microwave ovens Custom kitchen deliveries We gotta move these refrigerators We gotta move these colour tvs
See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup Yeah buddy that's his own hair That little faggot got his own jet airplane That little faggot hes a millionaire
We gotta install microwave ovesns Custom kitchens deliveries We gotta move these refrigerators We gotta move these colour tvs
I shoulda learned to play the guitar I shoulda learned to play them drums Look at that mama, she got it stickin' in the camera Man we could have some fun And he's up there, what's that? hawaiian noises? Bangin on the bongoes like a chimpanzee That ain't workin' that's the way you do it Get your money for nothin' get your chicks for free
We gotta install microwave ovens Custom kitchen deliveries We gotta move these refrigerators We gotta move these colour tvs, lord
Now that ain't workin' that's the way you do it You play the guitar on the mtv That ain't workin' that's the way you do it Money for nothin' and your chicks for free Money for nothin' and chicks for free
While growing up, my family always seemed to be a bit behind in the technology game. In our house, phrases like "Now in living color", or "Now in technicolor" meant nothing, as we were the last family on the block to get a color television (and don't even get me started on the lack of a remote control). We were also the last family to get cable television (remember the cable box that sat on top of your television, with a different button for each channel?). Needless to say, this "lethal" combination didn't make us terribly popular when it came to just hanging out and watching television, especially as in our area of Upstate New York, not having cable meant living with three network channels, PBS, and one local channel, which eventually turned into FOX.
In the same way that my younger brother blames his fondness for sugar cereals on the fact that we never had them at home while growing up (we could only have the personal serving-sized boxes on visits to the grandparents, resulting in daily battles as we reserved each box days in advance – "I want the Sugar Pops!" "No! I called it yesterday!" "Mom!"), it wouldn't surprise me to discover that the lack of color and cable in our youth resulted in him today being the proud owner of a seriously high-tech television with a huge screen and several hundred television stations, many of which are in Spanish, due to the fact that he lives in South Florida. And, while I do not share his penchant for sugar cereals (I'm a "Special K" girl), it would not be an understatement to say that I'm wowed by his TV setup (and especially impressed by the fact that my seven year-old niece knows how to configure her own TiVo settings).
Not having cable in the early 80s had its drawbacks, especially for kids our age. We were forced to look elsewhere for our television needs, and missed out on various pop culture phenomena. On August 1st, 1981, when all of our friends suddenly started talking about how they "wanted their MTV", it took us a while until we finally discovered what we'd been missing. We were part of the original MTV generation, and our idols included the newly-coined VJs – Nina Blackwood, JJ Jackson, Mark Goodman, Alan Hunter, and Martha Quinn. Now, of course, MTV has changed and expanded dramatically over the years, with a veritable plethora of MTV networks around the world, with different formats on both the genre level and the regional level, and to be honest, I don't even know what channel it's on anymore (we get MTV Europe as part of our basic cable package). Over the years, I transitioned from being an MTV watcher to being a VH1 watcher, and these days, I don't watch the music channels at all, with one of the underlying reasons being that I simply can't bear the fact that at some point, most of my favorites tunes suddenly fell under the genres of either classics/oldies or adult contemporary (shudder).
In any event, today's 80s Music Video Sunday commemorates that August day 26 years ago when a brand new television network entered our lives and changed the world of music forever. And it all started with this song by The Buggles, which, though technically ineligible for 80s Music Video Sunday because it was released in 1979, receives honorary 80s status because of the defining role it played in one of the most pivotal events of the 1980s as the first video ever played on MTV.
Video Killed the Radio Star The Buggles
I heard you on the wireless back in '52 Lying awake intend at tuning in on you If I was young it didn't stop you coming through
(Oh, oh)
They took the credit for your second symphony Rewritten by machine and new technology And now I understand the problems you can see
(Oh, oh) I met your children (Oh, oh) What did you tell them?
Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star Pictures came and broke your heart
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
And now we meet in an abandoned studio We hear the playback and it seems so long ago And you remember the jingles used to go
(Oh, oh) You were the first one (Oh, oh) You were the last one
Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star In my mind and in my car We can't rewind we've gone to far
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star In my mind and in my car We can't rewind we've gone to far
Pictures came and broke your heart Put the blame on VTR
You are a radio star You are a radio star
Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star) Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star) Video killed the radio star
Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star) Video killed the radio star Video killed the radio star (You are a radio star) Video killed the radio star
As distinctive as the sounds of the 80s were, the fashions and styles were no less memorable. Who can forget the white stripe painted across Adam Ant's nose, Michael Jackson's ever-present white glove (surgical, to be used in little boy emergencies, no doubt), Madonna's, ummm, well, everything (and yes, for those of you in the younger crowd, she has indeed been around that long)? Big hair was everywhere, on the guys as well as the girls... Shoulder pads that would make any linebacker proud... Lots of color and paisley, with a pull towards geometric prints in general.
And of course, when the stars were doing it, so were we. No white stripes painted across my nose, but I can remember at least one or two male friends who wore make-up on a regular basis, and big hair – either in the form of being puffy or spiky – was all the rage. Mullets and mohawks were inexplicably popular (though admittedly, the latter seemed to be a form of personal expression emanating mostly from the school jocks), and I'm guessing that were a poll to be taken today, those of us who grew up in the 80s would probably show the greatest desire in wanting to see our old photos burned.
In my mind, there is one artist from the 80s who perfectly embodies everything flamboyant and outlandish from that era. Boy George turned androgyny into an art form, and I can remember at least one of my friends doing his best to emulate his unique style for a party (I'm sure I've got the "blackmail" photos somewhere). Musically brilliant and fabulously eccentric, Boy George's talents helped to turn the band Culture Club into superstars, producing hit after hit with their outrageous songs and videos, and proving themselves to be no less colorful offstage.
For small-town suburban kids like us, Culture Club was fresh and exciting, both in terms of sound and looks, and I was a big fan. Even today, I still enjoy their music, so much so that I had one of their songs as my ring tone, until NRG heard my phone ring when we were in Amsterdam last Fall and asked that I please change it to pretty much anything else. I complied, and before I remembered to switch it back after our trip, I upgraded my cell phone, losing my old ring tones and downloading new ones.
Today's 80s Music Video Sunday entry features Culture Club, the artists who, for me, are the epitome of everything 80s. Today's song is, incidentally, also the one that was on my cell phone...
Karma Chameleon Culture Club
Desert loving in your eyes all the way If I listen to your lies would you say I'm a man without conviction I'm a man who doesn't know How to sell a contradiction You come and go You come and go
Karma Karma Karma Karma Karma Chameleon You come and go You come and go Loving would be easy if your colors were like my dream Red, gold and green Red, gold and green
Didn't hear your wicked words every day And you used to be so sweet I heard you say That my love was an addiction When we cling our love is strong When you go you're gone forever You string along You string along
Every day is like a survival You're my lover not my rival Every day is like a survival You're my lover not my rival
I'm a man without conviction I'm a man who doesn't know How to sell a contradiction You come and go You come and go
I have friends around the same age as me who grew up in Europe while I was growing up in the US, and it's interesting to note that while musical trends on both sides of the Atlantic were very similar, there were certainly differences in the way that these trends played out. Whenever I take one of those inane little music trivia quizzes, I know for a fact that I'll probably score much lower if the quiz is geared, for example, towards a British audience as opposed to an American audience, as many of the artists that were popular in the UK never came to the US.
Even when a band was popular on both continents, band names often had subtle differences, such as the group known in the US as Yaz, but in Europe as Yazoo which, incidentally, launched the phenomenal career of Alison Moyet, whose amazing voice is hardly known at all in the US, and probably wouldn't be known to me if I hadn't spent so much time in Israel during my high school and university years. I can even remember returning to the US following trips to Israel, dumbfounded that the music to which I'd grown so attached during my journey was almost completely unknown in the US.
While there are many popular European artists haven't been able to break into the US market at all, or have just barely made a splash, including my beloved Housemartins, there are other artists who, while popular in both regions, have select albums that were released in one area and not the other, or albums that were released in both places but with different album covers, such as Depeche Mode's album "The Singles 81>85". And of course, individual songs are often not released everywhere as singles, or songs might be released at different times. When we were in the US during June of 2006, NRG (who lives in Europe) and I were driving somewhere (we had coordinated visits to our parents for the first time ever) and Daniel Powter's "Had a Bad Day" came on the radio. The song had been a huge hit in Israel and Europe for over a year at that point, and we were both surprised to hear that it had only recently been released in the US.
This week's featured artist for 80s Music Video Sunday is one of those bands that were more popular in the UK than in the US. I can only remember two XTC songs being in relatively decent rotation in the US – "Senses Working Overtime" and "Making Plans for Nigel" – more so the former than the latter. A week spent driving around the UK nearly four years ago listening to copious amounts of local radio reminded me of this band's existence, and an online search when I returned to Israel introduced me to a treasure trove of songs by this band that I'd never known existed. Today's video is my favorite XTC song – "Mayor of Simpleton", which caught my ear the very first time I heard it.
Mayor of Simpleton XTC
Never been near a university, never took a paper or a learned degree, and some of your friends think that's stupid of me, but it's nothing that I care about.
Well I don't know how to tell the weight of the sun, and of mathematics well I want none, and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton, but I know one thing and that's I love you. When their logic grows cold and all thinking gets done, you'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton.
I can't have been there when brains were handed round (please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton), or get past the cover of your books profound (please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton), And some of your friends thinks it's really unsound that you're ever seen talking to me.
Well I don't know how to write a big hit song, and all crossword puzzles well I just shun, and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton, but I know one thing and that's I love you.
I'm not proud of the fact that I never learned much, just feel I should say, what you get is all real, I can't put on an act, it takes brains to do that anyway. (And anyway...)
And I can't unravel riddles problems and puns, how the home computer has me on the run, and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton, but I know one thing and that's I love you (I love you).
If depth of feeling is a currency (please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton), then I'm the man who grew the money tree (no chain of office and no hope of getting one), some of your friends are too brainy to see that they're paupers and that's how they'll stay.
Well I don't know how many pounds make up a ton of all the Nobel prizes that I've never won, and I may be the Mayor of Simpleton, but I know one thing and that's I love you.
When all logic grows cold and all thinking gets done, You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton. You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor of Simpleton. You'll be warm in the arms of the Mayor. (Please be upstanding for the Mayor of Simpleton.)
First of all, I would like to say that I can, perhaps, understand why you feel the need to launch a public sector strike. It is indeed unfortunate that workers in the public sector are once again getting screwed by the government, and while these strikes drastically affect the daily lives of all citizens, I understand your frustration, not to mention your desire to show the powers-that-be and those who fall under your responsibility that you mean business, and that you must take serious action. I don't have a problem with working from home should the Israel Railways Authority join the strike, and on occasion, even enjoy pecking away at my computer while sitting on my porch.
I would, however, be terribly grateful if you could postpone the strike for about a week or so, in order to ensure that the arrival of my new Harry Potter book, which should be shipped on Saturday from the UK, is not delayed due to workers striking at the airport and the post office.
As you've all figured out by now, I went to high school back in the 80s. I was your average, angst-ridden teenager, and while I was able to get along with virtually everyone, my utter lack of self-confidence (and for those of you who actually know me in person, if you think I'm lacking in self-confidence now, you should have seen me then...) and limited knowledge of all that was cool always left me feeling rather inept. In my freshman year, I was placed in the honors English class (which, incidentally, was the first and last honors course I ever took, but that is neither here or nor there). To say that we had the coolest teacher in the school would have been an understatement. At the time, she was probably the coolest person I'd ever come across, and like everyone else in my class, I was absolutely mesmerized by her persona. Ms. Peterson was the epitome of all that was awesome and hip. She was young and she was totally "with it", and I'm guessing it wouldn't be too far off the mark to assume that she set the hormones of most (if not all) of her male students raging, not to mention projected an aura that all of her female students were secretly dying to emulate.
Ms. Peterson was as innovative in her teaching as one would expect from a teacher with her personality. She did what she could in order to get us to think outside the box, to get us excited about learning. She introduced us to a whole slew of authors, and she had us read and analyze William Safire's newspaper columns on a regular basis. What do I remember the most, though? I remember the day she came in with her portable stereo (otherwise referred to back in the day as a "box", if memory serves me correctly), popped in a cassette, and introduced me to the music of the B-52's. That's right, folks. We analyzed the words of the song "Rock Lobster". Ms. Peterson's coolness rating positively skyrocketed that day. Their sound was like nothing I'd ever heard before, and suddenly, thanks to being in Ms. Peterson's English class, I felt cool by association.
Of course, "Rock Lobster" was released in 1978, and as such, it's ineligible for 80s Music Video Sunday. So, in honor of Ms. Peterson and that very special honors English class, today's featured video is the B-52s "Love Shack", released in 1989. I'm sure Ms. Peterson would approve.
Love Shack B-52s
If you see a faded sign by the side of the road that says 15 miles to the... Love Shack! Love Shack yeah I'm headin' down the Atlanta highway, lookin' for the love getaway Heading for the love getaway, love getaway, I got me a car, it's as big as a whale and we're headin' on down To the Love Shack I got me a Chrysler, it seats about 20 So hurry up and bring your jukebox money
The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together Love Shack baby, Love Shack bay-bee. Love baby, that's where it's at, Ooo love baby, that's where it's at
Sign says.. Woo... stay away fools, 'cause love rules at the Lo-o-ove Shack! Well it's set way back in the middle of a field, Just a funky old shack and I gotta get back
Glitter on the mattress Glitter on the highway Glitter on the front porch Glitter on the hallway
The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together Love Shack bay-bee! Love Shack baby! Love Shack, that's where it's at! Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin', wearin' next to nothing Cause it's hot as an oven The whole shack shimmies! The whole shack shimmies when everybody's Movin' around and around and around and around! Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby! Folks linin' up outside just to get down Everybody's movin', everybody's groovin' baby Funky little shack! Funk-y little shack!
Hop in my Chrysler, it's as big as a whale and it's about to set sail! I got me a car, it seats about twenty So c'mon and bring your jukebox money.
The Love Shack is a little old place where we can get together Love Shack baby! Love Shack bay-bee! (Love Shack...Love Shack...) Love Shack, that's where it's at!
Bang bang bang on the door baby! Knock a little louder baby! Bang bang bang on the door baby! I can't hear you Bang bang on the door baby Bang bang on the door Bang bang on the door baby Bang bang You're what?... Tin roof, rusted!
Love Shack, baby Love Shack! Love Shack, baby Love Shack! Love baby, that's where it's at Love Shack, baby Love Shack! Love baby, that's where it's at Huggin' and a kissin', dancin' and a lovin' at the love shack
Slipped in among my "American Top 40" albums, once could always find a selection of oldies records, from Bobby Sherman to Buddy Holly, from fifties compilation albums to sixties compilation albums – I loved the oldies. To this day I can remember thinking that Mr. Reber had to be the coolest fourth grade teacher ever, because the kids in his class got to sing "Little Star" by The Elegants in their class play (couldn't find a video clip for this, but you can check out the tune here). I can't even remember my own fourth grade class play, which goes to show you how inspirational and memorable it was...
I loved the TV shows that depicted life in the fifties, like "Happy Days" and "Laverne and Shirley" (though admittedly less so once the ladies had moved from Milwaukee to Burbank). I love movies like "Grease" (and of course I know nearly all the words to all the songs). As a teenager, I loved reading books about young people growing up in the fifties (though sadly, the names and authors escape me now). What can I say? I was a big fan of anything from the fifties.
It should probably come as no surprise, then, that I love rockabilly music, one of the earliest styles of rock and roll to emerge in the fifties. And of course, one of the masters of this genre would have to be, without the doubt, the Stray Cats. They look like throwbacks to the fifties; they (mostly) sound like throwbacks to the fifties. They are, however, pure eighties. Loved 'em.
Rock this Town Stray Cats
Well, my baby and me went out late Saturday night I had my hair piled high and my baby just looked so right Well, pick you up at ten, gotta have you home at two Mama don't know what I got in store for you But that's all right 'cause we're looking as cool as can be
Well, we found a little place that really didn't look half bad I had a whiskey on the rocks and change of a dollar for the jukebox Well, I put the quarter right into that can But all they played was disco, man Come on, baby, baby, let's get outta here right away
We're gonna rock this town Rock it inside out We're gonna rock this town Make 'em scream and shout Let's rock, rock, rock, man, rock We're gonna rock till we pop We're gonna rock till we drop We're gonna rock this town Rock it inside out
Well, we're having a ball just a boppin' on the big dance floor Well, there's a real square cat, he looks a 1974 Well, he looked at me once, he looked at me twice Look at me again and there's gonna be a fight We're gonna rock this town We're gonna rip this place apart
We're gonna rock this town Rock it inside out We're gonna rock this town Make 'em scream and shout Let's rock, rock, rock, man, rock We're gonna rock till we pop We're gonna rock till we drop We're gonna rock this town Rock this place apart
We're gonna rock this town Rock it inside out We're gonna rock this town Make 'em scream and shout Let's rock, rock, rock, man, rock We're gonna rock till we pop We're gonna rock till we drop We're gonna rock this town Rock it inside out We're gonna rock this town Rock it inside out We're gonna rock this town Rock it inside out
Well gag me with a spoon! It's 80s Music Video Sunday, and if that's not, like, totally gnarly, well frankly, I don't know what is! Who can forget the invasion of the Valley Girls, introducing a variety of totally rad new words into the American lexicon. Like, for sure, we all got into it. I mean, back in those days, didn't we all want to be, like, totally bitchin'? Didn't we all just totally want to, like, hang out at the Galleria? Like, I'm so sure!
The whole valley girl era was, like, oh my god, totally tripendicular, and based on the lifestyle of rich girls living in California's San Fernando Valley. We like, totally used Moon Unit Zappa's hit single "Valley Girl" as our guide to all things valley. And for sure, Hollywood also, like, totally cashed in, releasing one of the most rad flicks ever, the totally awesome "Valley Girl", starring the way bitchin' Nicholas Cage. Like, oh my god! What a dude he was in that movie! He was like, totally gnarly, not like that Tommy dude, who was just grody to the max! I mean, like, barf me out the door! And duh, how could you make such a totally tubular movie like that without a bitchin' soundtrack, you know? I like, totally loved the music, like for sure! Totally rad. Totally.
So, duh, today's featured tune is like, totally from that movie. It's totally bitchin' and way awesome, I'm sure!
Melt with You Modern English
Moving forward using all my breath Making love to you was never second best I saw the world thrashing all around your face Never really knowing it was always mesh and lace
I'll stop the world and melt with you You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time There's nothing you and I won't do I'll stop the world and melt with you (You should know better?) Dream of better lives the kind which never hate (You should see why) Dropped in the state of imaginary grace (You should know better?) I made a pilgrimage to save this human race (You should see why) Never comprehending the race was long, long lost (I'll stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you (I'll stop the world) You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time (Let's stop the world) There's nothing you and I won't do (Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you
The future's open wide
(Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you (Let's stop the world) I've seen some changes but it's getting better all the time (Let's stop the world) There's nothing you and I won't do (Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you
I'll stop the world and melt with you (Let's stop the world) You've seen the difference and it's getting better all the time (Let's stop the world) There's nothing you and I won't do (Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you (Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you (Let's stop the world) I'll stop the world and melt with you (Let's stop the world)
During my university days, there were people who told me that if I was any more laid-back, I'd probably be dead. I always dressed very casually, usually jeans (which were sometimes torn) and sandals (when it was warm enough), and had a penchant for tie-dye, which still exists today. I can only imagine what kind of vibe I must have been giving off, as people always seemed rather surprised that I wasn't a party type, and that I'd never done drugs (which is also still true today, despite a carefree weekend in Amsterdam last fall). Aside from a few occasional bouts of trying to be trendy (I can sadly admit to owning clothes with shoulder pads, though I don't know if there's any photographic proof), when it comes down to it, I'm a crunchy granola hippie-chick wannabe at heart. Give me sandals (if I can't go barefoot) and those long, "earthy" skirts and dresses, give me low-maintenance hair, and I'll be a happy little clam.
Given all of that, you'd have thought that I would have been a serious Dead Head in my youth. Sure, I'd heard of them, but somehow, their music was not on my radar at the time. The kids who promoted listening to the Grateful Dead were the same ones who had passes to the smoking room, the kids who didn't feel the need to conform to the unspoken "white-bread" nature of our life in suburbia. At the time, it would never have occurred to me to reach out to them, nor they to me. I was too busy with my own stuff, with my own friends, and too unsure of myself to reach out to those who dared to be different, who didn't feel it was necessary to be like everyone else. I associated the Grateful Dead with a certain group of people, and as a result, I opted not to take an interest in their music.
Over the years, my musical tastes have changed. Some of my closest friends were (and still are) big fans of this musical phenomenon, and needless to say, I can't believe that it took me so long to discover them. So many years wasted, so many opportunities to see them perform missed. NRG introduced me to one of their songs once I was already living in Israel, and I was hooked. A former officemate of mine was also a fan, and his Grateful Dead CDs were often playing in the background.
While I'd heard a number of their songs over the years, one in particular made a successful crossover into the realm of mainstream music, and the video for this song (released in 1987) received heavy airplay on MTV. Before I really knew their music, I knew the words to this song. Now, it's one of many Grateful Dead songs that I enjoy, but it will always be the song that began to draw me in.
Touch of Grey Grateful Dead
It must be getting early Clocks are running late Paint by numbers morning sky Looks so phony
Dawn is breaking everywhere Light a candle, curse the glare Draw the curtains, I don't care 'Cause it's alright
I will get by I will get by I will get by I will survive
I see you got your list out Say your piece and get out Yes I got the gist of it But it's alright
Sorry that you feel that way The only thing there is to say Every silver lining's got a Touch of grey
It's a lesson to me The Ables and the Bakers and the C's The A B C's We all must face And try to keep a little grace
I know the rent is in arrears The dog has not been fed in years It's even worse than it appears But it's alright
Cows are giving kerosene The kid can't read at seventeen The words he knows are all obscene But it's alright
I will get by I will get by I will get by I will survive
It's a lesson to me The Deltas and the East and the Freeze The A B C's We all think of And try to keep a little love
The shoe is on the hand it fits There's really nothing much to it Whistle through your teeth and split 'Cause it's alright
Oh well a touch of grey Kind of suits you anyway That was all I had to say And it's alright
I will get by I will get by I will get by I will survive
We will get by We will get by We will get by We will survive
After what seemed like an interminable journey, the Little One and I are finally home from our vacation. Our return flight was, ummmm, interesting and fraught with far too much excitement, as our flight from Sarasota to Atlanta was delayed by three hours because apparently, the plane was hit by lightning before coming to Sarasota. Three hours was bad. Very bad. We would never have made our connection, and Sarasota being Sarasota, not only was that the last flight of the day to Atlanta, there were also no other flights to Atlanta on other airlines. There was, however, a flight from Tampa – an hour to the north – that would give us enough time to make our connection. Jumping back into the car, we raced up the highway to Tampa, cursing the lane cutters and the traffic (after all, if it had to happen, why not have it happen at rush hour...), with Dad pulling off some most excellent maneuvering across exit lanes when the Little One just couldn't hold it in any longer. Nor could I, and as we crawled through the traffic, Little One kept saying, "Grampa, you have to stop. Mommy has pee pee." Somehow, I made it to the airport, where we checked in after my mad dash to the loo.
The Little One was restless, and to our dismay, we discovered that the airport play area was gateside. Not wishing to drag out our last moments running around the terminal after a three-year old, we said our goodbyes, jumped on the train to the concourse and went through security, which is when we found out that the play area had been closed, leaving us with 45 minutes to kill. In a big, crowded airport. With a very active small child. I received looks that were a combination of amusement and pity as I chased him around the terminal, trying to get him to the gate when our flight was called, trying to get him to get up from the floor, trying to get him to stop running in circles. I received a look of disgust from our seatmate, as she spotted my son and spilled over into my seat. Fortunately, she was in the wrong seat, and we soon found ourselves sitting next to a funny young grandmother who had had a few drinks in the airport to calm her down and another one on the plane, and who made the trip that much easier to bear as she helped me to entertain my son (with much assistance from the in-flight satellite TV).
The scenes from Tampa were replayed in the airport in Atlanta as we got close to the gate, with me chasing, and the Little One alternately laughing and throwing tantrums, and almost escaping mid-wardrobe change. Finally making it onto the plane, and he fell asleep shortly after takeoff, but not before getting magic marker on me and on himself. My original plan had been to get him off to sleep and then catch up with the fabulous entertainment system, but it didn't pan out, as the system had malfunctioned for half the passengers and the entire system had to be reset, a process which took several precious "me" hours. The Little One slept for about eight hours, partially on me and partially on the sweet Russian grandmother who sat beside us, allowing him to kick her and rest his feet on her all night long. More hijinks ensued once my devil child precious son woke up, and no one was happier than I when we finally made it off the plane.
Passport control was a breeze. Grabbing the suitcases was a bit trickier, as the carts were not made with children in mind, but fortunately we were assisted by those around us, and three of our suitcases came out rather quickly. It's possible the fourth one did as well, but I was so out of it at this point, that I'd forgotten what the fourth suitcase looked like, and once the area was clear and I didn't recognize any of the few lone suitcases, we made our way to the lost luggage counter, where a young woman led us back to the carousel and I felt terribly foolish for not having remembered which suitcase I had. Somehow, we made it to the arrivals hall without being stopped by Customs officials (I'm guessing the pity came into play again), and a joyful reunion with the Husband and Father was had by all.
I've always enjoyed Latin and Spanish music, whether it be salsa (and I even tried to learn how to salsa dance during my university days, but alas, I have no rhythm), Cuban music, Spanish musicians such as Alejandro Sanz or Estopa, the music of Juanes, and, during the summer camp years, Puerto Rican boy band Menudo, which played a pivotal role in launching the career of Ricky Martin.
Here in South Florida, Spanish is everywhere, whether it be ethnic restaurants, Spanish names, Spanish-speaking television and radio stations. I hear Spanish being spoken at the parks, and on many occasions, the elegant women working in the department stores speak Spanish-accented English. In the same way that one can get by in Israel speaking only in English, one can easily get by in parts of South Florida speaking only in Spanish.
As I'm trying to keep to the South Florida/US theme in my postings these days, my natural inclination for 80s Music Video Sunday is to incorporate music that is undeniably connected to the local music scene. For me, there is no one who better represents this theme than Gloria Estefan and the Miami Sound Machine. I've always been a fan of Gloria Estefan. I really like her music, and am impressed by her strength as a person. She's a talented singer, dancer and business woman. She sings in Spanish and English, and I love it all. Today's song takes me back to a winter weekend convention on the grounds of one of my old youth group's summer camp, when during a break in the proceedings, someone put this song on, causing us to spontaneously break out into a large conga line and dance around the building while the snow fell outside. Good memories...
Conga Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga I know you can't control yourself any longer Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga I know you can't control yourself any longer.
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga I know you can't control yourself any longer Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger Don't you fight it till you've tried it Do the conga beat
Everybody gather 'round now let your body feel the heat. Don't you worry if you can't dance let the music move your feet. It's the rhythm of the island and like sugarcane, so sweet. If you want to do the conga you've got to listen to the beat.
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga I know you can't control yourself any longer Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger Don't you fight it till you've tried it Do the conga beat.
Feel the fire of desire as you dance the night away. 'Cos tonight we're gonna party till we see the break of day. Better get yourself together and hold on to what you got. Once the music hit your system there's no way you're gonna stop.
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga I know you can't control yourself any longer Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger Don't you fight it till you've tried it Do the conga beat.
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga I know you can't control yourself any longer Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger Don't you fight it till you've tried it, do the conga
Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga I know you can't control yourself any longer Feel the rhythm of the music getting stronger Don't you fight it till you've tried it Do the conga beat Come on, shake your body baby, do the conga
During the past few days, Tel Aviv was transformed into a spotty patchwork of red and white as a seemingly endless number of soccer/football fans from England could be found wandering the streets, strolling along the promenade, and, probably more than anything else, drying up the local beer reserves. Thousands of English fans streamed into Israel last week ahead of yesterday evening's Euro qualifier against Israel (and I fell asleep shortly after the game started, which I'm sure will make Anglosaxy lose any respect for me that he might have had). Every newscast has spent an inconceivable amount of time following the goings-on of these fans, and if I had to hazard a guess as to what the most frequently asked interview question was among this crowd, I'd be willing to bet that it had to do with the number of beers they'd had so far that day (with mind-boggling answers such as "10" and "14", which would probably put me in a coma for several days, while these fellows seemed to be fine).
It was also noted on more than one occasion (and often with sloshy, beer-goggled pride) that a number of the fans partook of the services offered by a number of "after-hours" establishments in the vicinity of my office. There was even an interview with one young man as he was, umm, being serviced. He seemed to be having a rather difficult time answering the questions, and when asked which team he thought might win the game, he responded with something like, "ummm.... yeah... I don't... ummm... really know..." Now that, my friends, is entertainment. Overall though, they seemed like a rather cheerful bunch, and as we crawled through the traffic on the road running parallel to the promenade, we couldn't help but get caught up in the atmosphere, especially when we heard the boisterous singing coming from The Buzz Stop and Mike's Place (which made the news in 2003 as the scene of a suicide bombing) as onlookers lined the streets as though the Macy's Parade was about to come through.
It was recently announced that another "fine dining" establishment will soon be reaching our shores from the US, and I couldn't help but think that had this restaurant been here this week, they would have done very well. The eatery in question is Hooters, and if you were to ask me what slogan might be appropriate for the Israeli branch, I'd say something like, "Hooters... Because life in Israel isn't wacko enough...", or "Hooters... Can Israeli society sink any lower?" As I said, though, I think it would have been quite a hit with our English friends this week, given the excitement they displayed about meeting Israeli women (one fan said during yet another televised interview that as long as he got our beer and our women, he didn't care who won the game).
But what does all of this have to do with 80s Music Video Sunday, you ask? Well, all this talk about Hooters has reminded me of a time when Hooters meant something else. When it referred to a band out of Philadelphia that had a number of hits in the 80s, and not a derogatory name for female body parts. I've always really liked the song "And We Danced". I love the upbeat tune, and there's something about the video that has always put me in a good mood. I wonder if it's because the video showed a bunch of kids just having a good time, instead of the usual, recurring rock music video theme of far too many hooters...
And We Danced The Hooters
She was a be-bop baby on a hard day's night She was hangin' on Johnny, he was holdin' on tight I could feel her coming from a mile away There was no use talking, there was nothing to say When the band began to play and play
And we danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced We were liars in love and we danced Swept away for a moment by chance And we danced and danced danced
I met my be-bop baby at the Union Hall She could dance all night and shake the paint off the walls But when I saw her smile across a crowded room Well I knew we'd have to leave the party soon As the band began to play out of tune
And we danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced We were liars in love and we danced Swept away for a moment by chance And we danced and danced danced
The endless beat, she's walkin' my way Hear the music fade when she says Are we getting too close, do we care to get closer The room is spinning as she whispers my name
And we danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced We were liars in love and we danced Swept away for a moment by chance And we danced and danced danced
And we danced like a wave on the ocean, romanced We were liars in love and we danced Swept away for a moment by chance And we danced and danced danced
And we danced... And we danced... And we danced... And we danced...
As I mentioned, there were three Karate Kid films that came out in the 80s. If I had to pick a favorite, it would have to be 
