Mark Twain (Samuel Langhorne Clemens)
Nov. 30, 1835 – April 21, 1910
“Man is the only
“Animal that blushes. Or
“Needs to,” writes Mark Twain.
Few saw so clearly
Or captured so tellingly
Man’s lasting folly
Yet each of us knows
Someone wise, trenchant, witty
Who keeps us in line
A spouse or a friend
A comic or songwriter
A compass and muse
Garrison Keillor,
Neil Young or Bob Walkenhorst
Fill in your own blank
They’re still pointing out
Our glories, absurdities
So rest easy, Sam
Jimi, still miss you
Your mind-expanding guitar
Rock’s ultimate drug
Coleman Hawkins, Nov. 21, 1904 – May 19, 1969
Really don’t know jazz
Do know I like anything
By Coleman Hawkins
The Hawk, hatched this date
In St. Joseph, Missouri
Baby, born to blow
Piano, age 5,
Cello at 7, at 9
Tenor saxophone
Many instruments
Many Midwestern homes
Nebraska, Kansas
Topeka High band
Must’ve really had some swing
Hawk doing his thing
He played in KC
Before the Big Apple called
Hawk was on his way
Fletcher Henderson
Gave him a chance, Satchmo showed
Him how to relax
He was the first great
On the tenor sax, and few
Ever outdid him
Lester Young, called Pres,
Told people Hawk really was
The tenor’s first prez
So swinging, so smooth
Miles Davis said Hawk showed how
To play a ballad
Chords and progressions
Hawk knew them all, but what’s more
He knew to evolve
Hanging with Django
And Benny Carter, breaking
Ground, “Body and Soul”
Helped when the time came
Ushered in new bop players,
Out-jammed them at times
Thelonious Monk,
Dizzy, Miles, Rollins, Coltrane
To name just a few
More traditional
In his last decades, but still
A winning tenor
Happy birthday, Hawk
Let that smoky sound tell us
All the things you are
The first record store I ever haunted, Kief’s in Lawrence, Kan., turns 52 today. Wish I still had my “Rain”/”Paperback Writer” 45.
Happy birthday, Kief’s
Older than 45, not
Yet 78
You took all my cash
When I was a kid, priceless
Memories in return
Deliver papers
Get paid, ride bike to The Malls
Your spot in ’60s
Just two-ninety-nine
Most mono albums, a buck
More for stereo
Rows and rows of all
The latest vinyl, each with
A hole in its heart
But they spoke to me
So I took them home, we grooved
Over and over
Beatles 45s
Loads of Greatest Hits albums
Beach Boys, Hendrix, Stones
Mamas and Papas
Byrds, Hollies, Doors, Buckinghams
And Wilson Pickett
“Like a Rolling Stone”
With “Gates of Eden” flip side
Dylan masterpiece
A guilty pleasure:
Tommy James singles, but what
The hell’s a Shondell?
The Guess Who, Box Tops
Rascals, Monkees (Pre-Fab Four!)
Had to have them all
Get, spend, listen, love
Pattern I repeated like
A broken record
Happy birthday, Kief’s
Founder John Kiefer’s vision
Still rocks and rolls on
Capture a moment
And make it last forever
If only we could
Big development:
Louis-Jacques-Mandé Daguerre
Was born on this date
Painter, printmaker
Showcased theatrical scenes
At Diorama
His Diorama:
Popular Parisian spot
A feast for the eyes
But he made his name
With something else, breakthrough in
Still photography
Physics, chemistry
Met art in Daguerre’s process
Years of hard toil
Camera obscura
Cast an image to observe
But not to preserve
Another Frenchman
Photographed barn but it took
8-hour exposure
Daguerre got that down
To 20 minutes, called pics
Daguerreotypes — Natch!
Iodine vapors,
Silver-plated copper sheet
In big box camera
Then the fix was in
Sodium thiosulphate
Voilà! Still photos
Portraits elusive
Till faster shutters were made
But still, impressive!
Scientific pics
Through microscopes, telescopes
Amazing detail
Landscape photos, too
Revolutionized the way
Many saw their world
Thanks, Louis Daguerre
Think I will take a picture
It’ll last longer
(A sad epilogue:
Diorama, his lab burned
They didn’t last long)
————————
Random from the past:
Digital photos
Have no darkroom moments to
See what develops
Petula Clark, born Nov. 15, 1932
Happy birthday, Pet
Where will you celebrate it?
How about “Downtown”?
’60s sensation
You knew a place, really were
A sign of the times
But we never knew
You had a career before
Your radio hits
You were a big star
BBC variety
And the London stage
Big stir, ’68,
With Harry Belafonte
Touched him on TV!
Lots of TVs still
Were black and white, duets were
Another matter
But you stood your ground
Touching anti-war song aired
Another small step
Did some movies, too
Fred Astaire’s last dance partner
“Finian’s Rainbow”
Glad you’re still going
Living memories are the best
Till our chips run out
Borodin, born Nov. 12, 1833, composed symphonies and opera, but his two string quartets are what capture my untrained ears. The second is about the most romantic music I’ve ever heard — though the fourth movement doesn’t match the first three.
Russian Romantic
Alexander Borodin
Plucked at the heartstrings
Chemist, composer,
Cellist, expertly arranged
Elements of romance
2nd String Quartet
Indescribably lovely
An ache in four parts
It’s Neil Young’s birthday
No, let’s make that Youngs’ – there are
So many of him
Heart of gold folkie
Blow the doors off hard rocker
Flayed one-note solos
Protesting for peace
Living the good Earth’s green life
Helping found Farm Aid
Movies directed
“Bernard Shakey” behind cam
That’s Neil’s nom de film
Bridge School benefits
Helping those who need it most
Breaking down some walls
Godfather of grunge
Radiohead tuned in, too
Musical offspring
And all the great songs
Tales of conquest and romance
Blinding, soul searing
Springfield, cinnamon
And sugar, sand and powder
The hurricane’s eye
All the waste of war
The toll of lies, corruption
Drugs’ dark nights, death’s kiss
The comforts of home,
Playing with good friends, old man’s
Domesticity
Showed us how to keep
Creativity’s fire lit
Don’t burn out, don’t rust
Hello, Mr. Soul
You’re still strange, all the changes
Never regret them
They plunge into hell
For us and for our country
And some don’t come back
To every veteran
A salute of gratitude
For keeping us safe
VFW
And American Legion
Your ranks are true blue
To those in Iraq
We’ll see you soon — this year! How great
Is that going to be?
To the rest abroad
We pray your day will come, too:
A huge “Welcome Home”
We wish we could end
The world’s wars, once and for all.
Wouldn’t that be fine?
Till then, and beyond,
A grateful nation will not
Forget what you’ve done
Tap into this day
That thrice goes to 11
Yes, it’s “1” louder
Apophenia:
Finding patterns or meaning
In random data
Is this day special?
Blessed? Cursed? Magical? Divine?
Nah! Just filled with “1”s
Greg's Hack-u 