Cinnamon Life

This "then and now" picture received a bunch of likes on FB and some funny comments on Imgur. When we were kids, our favorite breakfast cereal was Quaker Life, and especially Cinnamon Life. Back in the eighties there was a contest to find the next "Mikey", and my mom snapped this picture. Thirty years later, I still eat this stuff almost every day.

Farewell to Shady Glade

I always had a thing for animals. My favorite book in the whole world was Farewell to Shady Glade (1966). It chronicled a small group of critters, led by a world-weary raccoon, searching for a new home after their old one gets bulldozed. Farewell is one of over 30 children's books beautifully written and illustrated by Bill Peet, who died in 2002. I never got to thank him.

Busby Berkeley Dreams

Theme song of my life? I might have to go with Busby Berkeley Dreams. There's just something so ephemeral and beautiful about this little song, you'd swear you heard it before in a dream or another life. 

I first heard it at Intermezzo Cafe, a salad bar in Berkeley, California (which by the way has nothing to do with the title or content of the song). I was so taken with it that I asked the girl at the counter who sang it, which was the first time I'd heard of Magnetic Fields. This video mixes in some black-and-white footage from real Busby Berkeley-choreographed production numbers. 

Bob Ross Believes in You

When I was a little kid, my first dream was to be an artist. My mom liked to watch The Joy of Painting featuring Bob Ross while she did yoga, and I was always amazed at how he could make something so beautiful with just a few brushstrokes. Lately, I've really been enjoying this motivational melodysheep song/video, starring Bob. It's got a fresh, fun, and very positive vibe.

In college, I finally took a painting class. Remembering Bob's beautifully realistic trees and landscapes, I downloaded a video and tried to follow along. Well, let's just say Bob makes it look easy. Believing is a good start, but there's ten thousand brushstrokes in the sentence "all you need to do is practice."

Mr. Rogers Goes Viral

I've been pretty busy blogging Deconstructing Dark Knight Returns, but I wanted to take a minute or two to single out a video by melodysheep/PBS featuring Fred Rogers. I used to watch Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, which usually came after Sesame Street. I think his messages of kindness and curiosity might speak to me more as an adult than they did as a child.

Mayor of Chicago

Harold Washington was our mayor when I was growing up. He was black, and grandfatherly. I didn't know a lot about him, other than that everybody seemed to like him a lot. We loved our mayor.

When he died of a heart attack in 1987, I was in fourth grade. They called a school assembly to announce the news. We were all shocked, and saddened. For most of us, death was still a foreign concept. It was kind of like our Kennedy moment.

After so many years, today was the first time I ever read Harold's Wikipedia page. Turns out he was a serious civil rights activist who overcame some ugly political challenges from the status quo. In other words, a hero.

The Chessmaster 2000

Before Jennings vs. Watson, there was Kasparov vs. Deep Blue (1996). I was enthralled by the match and read everything in the Trib leading up to it. I was shocked and a little inspired when, after an early loss to the machine, Kasparov managed to rope-a-dope it into submission and win – a tremendous accomplishment. (Kasparov lost the rematch and retreated into a funk from which he has only recently emerged as a champion of democracy in Russia.)

Before Deep Blue, there was the Chessmaster 2000 (1986), which I played for hours on our old green Compaq. The Chessmaster on the package was spooky, wizened, confident - I loved him immediately. I could never beat the machine, which played "the party is over" as its Black queen glided inevitably into checkmate position. Back then, grandmasters could still trounce the Chessmaster, but these days I wonder whether PCs are almost as powerful as Deep Blue.

ATT Kesser Torah/Chicago Pirchei Boys Choir

The ATT Kesser Torah Boys Choir was the main group musical experience of my childhood. Every Sunday night, our fearless leader Peretz would plop down his little brown keyboard in the ICJA lunchroom and turn a fidgety group of boys from different schools into a pretty decent-sounding choir. Here's a video of us singing Kol B'Ramah at Chicago City Hall in 1990 - I was lucky to have the solo for this haunting and beautiful song.

lyrics (from Jer. 31):

יד ...קוֹל בְּרָמָה נִשְׁמָע נְהִי בְּכִי תַמְרוּרִים--רָחֵל, מְבַכָּה עַל-בָּנֶיהָ; מֵאֲנָה לְהִנָּחֵם עַל-בָּנֶיהָ, כִּי אֵינֶנּוּ.	14 ...A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation, and bitter weeping, Rachel weeping for her children; she refuseth to be comforted for her children, because they are not.
טו כֹּה אָמַר יְהוָה, מִנְעִי קוֹלֵךְ מִבֶּכִי, וְעֵינַיִךְ, מִדִּמְעָה: כִּי יֵשׁ שָׂכָר לִפְעֻלָּתֵךְ נְאֻם-יְהוָה, וְשָׁבוּ מֵאֶרֶץ אוֹיֵב.	15 Thus saith the LORD: Refrain thy voice from weeping, and thine eyes from tears; for thy work shall be rewarded, saith the LORD; and they shall come back from the land of the enemy.
טז וְיֵשׁ-תִּקְוָה לְאַחֲרִיתֵךְ, נְאֻם-יְהוָה; וְשָׁבוּ בָנִים, לִגְבוּלָם.	16 And there is hope for thy future, saith the LORD; and thy children shall return to their own border.

Mighty Mouse

One of my greatest pleasures is being reminded of something I used to love, but have long forgotten. After a recent mouse-bite at work, my brother asked me whether the mouse was radioactive, and if so, was I beginning to look anything like this guy:

Ah Mighty Mouse, you had it all! Cute, superpowered, and an animal to boot. No wonder you were my first hero! (And come to think of it, I do look a little like that.)

Blackbird Sh'ma Lullaby

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life

You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

My mom must have been a bit of a hippie chick back in the day, because she used to sing me this lullaby every night before I went to sleep. Then she would sing me the traditional Sh'ma prayer:

Sh'ma, Yisrael, Adonai Elo-hainu, Adonai Echad.

(and in a whisper:) Baruch Shem K'vod Malchuto L'Olam Va'ed.

Even as a child, or maybe especially as a child, I loved the fusion of the two songs. The McCartney was quiet, spare, mysterious. The Sh'ma was simple, bold, and authoritative - it came in big block letters. I was fascinated by the shapes these two songs made as they crossed paths in my mind.

The Wonder Years

Wasn't that show great? There's something about it that just says "childhood."

Life is a strange and wonderful thing. We're born with certain thoughts already intact, and our experiences shape what we become. In a sense, our entire existence can be viewed as an uninterrupted and self-propelling melody, a series of notes that begins before we are born and unfolds naturally into the story of our lives.

It's easy to forget those little things we used to love. But when they come into our heart unexpectedly, we can hear that melody once again, and it's one of life's greatest pleasures. In this Shmlag, my goal is to revisit the patterns that have resonated with me over the years, and to play them before you, however imperfectly.

I will try not to sing out of key.