Stephen Michael Berberich's Blog, page 3

Night at the Belvedere: Lost in time, they beckon a restless heart

click to find revised edition
In this excerpt, Nick Esposito, the unexpected one, dreams bits and pieces from his daytime mental ‘visits’ back in history: 
Do we make our own dreams? Or do they make us?Nick’s continual pondering about past events often manifested in incoherent dreams. That night Nick slept well. His mind smoothed out the day’s dark anxieties and illuminated into a dream scripted for his ‘eyes’ and ‘ears’ only:   [image error]

A young boy is looking at the big iron building on the corner of Baltimore and South Streets. The building is glowing yellowish.

“Is it on fire?”

“No,” Mama says. “It’s electric lighting. Maybe Mr. Edison is here.”

“Mama, Mr. Edison must be here today!” the boy shouts.

The building has hundreds of slat windows behind five stories of stacked columns, which are all glowing, some dimmer than others, all a slight yellowish white. And no flickering as gas lanterns flicker! the boy notices.

“Yes, Mr. Edison’s got to be here.”

“That’s right, Nicky. It’s a big iron building. We’ve seen it on the way to market. Now it glows in the night.” The woman grasps the boy’s hand tight and pulls him, as he still stares at the big, glowing structure. They walk quickly past loud clacking of horse-drawn street cars on cobblestone. She leads him into the corner entrance of the big iron-gray building that glows.

Inside the lobby, she strains to lift him up. The boy can see six bright white lights.

“Are they safe, Mama?”

“Mr. Edison says they are, Nicky. Remember what teacher said at school? Mr. Edison had a New Year’s party with light all around his workshop in New Jersey.”

A large crowd gathers around them, all gazing at the glowing lights.

“Will they catch fire, Mama?”

A thin man in wire spectacles stands on a soapbox near Nicky and his mama and brings a large, red megaphone up to his mouth. “Ladies and gentlemen, please come up front so we can get started on your tour of the Baltimore Sun Iron Building, now lighted with Edison’s Electric Lamps. Yes, every corner of the newspaper operation—the lobby here, the newsroom, the mailing room, the layout room, the basement machinery—are all lit up electric.”

The man waits for people to walk in close to him. “My co-presenter is the Sun’s Mr. Mencken. My name is M. F. Moore, general manager of the Edison Company.”

“Mama, you said Mr. Edison would be here, right?”

“Shush, Nicky—the man talking works for Mr. Edison.”

“But it’s not him. He’s not him. Thomas Edison. I want to see Mr. Edison like his picture in school, Mama.”

The man holds a big light bulb in his right hand. “The incandescent lamp is perfectly steady light, not like the arc light our competitors promote. The Edison incandescent is uniform in its intensity and will replace the gas jet in illuminating interiors like you see here. Why, I dare say one of our lamps has burned for more than four hundred hours straight!”

The boy reaches out and tugs at the side of the baggy wool trousers worn by  Mr. Moore.

“Oh hello, young man. Do you have a question? What’s your name?”

Mama pulls the boy back. “I’m very sorry, sir. I told him Mr. Edison would be here. Nicky is his name and he studied about the electricity in school. Is Thomas Edison himself here, sir?”

“He may be here later, ma’am.” He looks up again at the crowd and resumes. “How many folks read about our New Year’s celebration in electric lights two years ago at Menlo Park? Well, then you read about the lighting of New York’s Broadway last year and streets in Philadelphia earlier this year. And now, where better to demonstrate the wonders of the Edison electric light than at the Baltimore Sun Iron Building?”

“Mama, they’ll catch fire. Mr. Edison’s not here. I’m scared.”

“I don’t think so. Mr. Edison says they’re safe.”

“But he’s not here. ’Lectric wires kill people, Mama. I want to go, Mama!”

The boy breaks free. Men in round hats and long coats scramble to catch him. They all rush the door and knock down one of Edison’s electric light fixtures. It breaks on the stone floor and sparks fly. Fire ignites huge piles of newspapers. Drapes burn. The entire ceiling is aflame.

Mama reaches Nicky outside a block away. As they turn back to look, they see people running from the Sun Iron Building on Baltimore and South Streets. And the building has disappeared. Gone. Just a smoldering mound of hot metal remains.

Standing next to the bed in her blue scrubs, J.J. shook Nick’s shoulder, and then tugged on his pajama collar. “Nick, Nick,” she said softly. “You’ve been having one of your dreams, hon. Wake up. It’s late. I’m leaving now. Don’t forget to call the crab cake man for the bar today, okay?”
Nick opened his eyes. “J.J., oh thank God. Wow, what a dream. I think great-granddad Mike was there, except he had my name and was just a kid, in the old Sun newspaper building in the last century. It burned down, sort of all melted. But the date was all wrong.”
“Oh, you and your history. Have a nice day, my Nicky whacky.” She rushed out the door to her ride to Hopkins with Betsy Brown.

Love for the Dandelion, Please. She’s Due Some.

By Stephen Michael Berberich

For Connections

[image error]     They shine like no other, those bright yellow beams of sunlight peeking from the earth.
     And for me, the dandelion is the truest sign of spring’s arrival. No, it it’s not the robin foraging for worms, not the tiny frogs peeping in the woods, not even the first run of rockfish up the Chesapeake Bay. The true arrival of spring is that unwavering dandelion popping up boldly and assuredly. There seems a resolute confidence in the “heart” of every dandelion. They cannot be stopped.
     I’m told that this true harbinger of spring sets its course early with unopened, fully formed and colorless flower buds just underground. It is true. I’ve peeked. There they were, nestled tightly atop sturdy, thick roots. With that first warm “magic” rain at the end of winter, those pent-up buds push up. They lack only daylight to shine.
     Dandelions are my favorite flowers. Simply by reputation, a dandelion is the brightest sun-yellow of all spring blooms, is botanically evolved to survive magnificently, has served humans since antiquity as food, high-quality nutrients, and medication, is fun for children. Yet, the dandelion is unfairly maligned today as a suburban menace by frustrated perfect lawn seeking fanatics, spraying and cursing the little yellow beauties.
     Phooey I say, to those polluting maniacs.
     If you love plants as I do, you know that the dandelion plant is one of nature’s “engineering” wonders.
     When the flower wilts and drops its petals, the flower head’s brackets curve backwards into that familiar puff ball of delicate parachutes—like an origami trick—feathery parachute each attached to one of as many as 200 seeds that can blow off to travel long distances.
     This trick serves us well, too. For adults camping or hiking, the puff ball serves as a humble meteorologist. It folds up before it rains and opens when skies clear. And for kids, well, grownups have always handed off puff-ball folklore to their children, such as, “If you blow three times, the seeds left tell you how many kids you will have?” Remember that one? Or, “Seeds left there tell you how many years left before you get married.” My favorite was to catch a wayward seed parachute and make a wish.” Funny, they always came true if I shared with my folks.
     I also love the dandelion flower because it is a beautiful composite, not one flower but dozens packed together as one on top of the paper-like hollow stalk flexible enough to withstand hurricane force winds. Again, ingenious.
     Medicinal uses of dandelions by civilizations past—just a quick Google click away—are not for me to list. But, I can attest to the better known nutritional values when I get a lift from eating the young leaves fresh in salad, or steamed, boiled, or sautéed.
     Add a sip of brandy like dandelion wine or my tangy dandelion root coffee, and you know why my favorite flower and true harbinger of spring is the dandelion. Now, if you will excuse me, I must tend to my pet dandelion. She grows huge in the limestone rich soil next to my house. I give my Great Dane of dandelions organic fertilizer to stretch its large, lion’s teeth leaves (French roughly translated: dent- de-lion). The center flower stalk is also taller and sturdier than normal because I trim the side ones. And its 2-inch wide flower makes a puff-ball the size of a tennis ball.
     Try saving one sometime for your pet plant, but not near the neighbor’s yard.
Spring 2017                                                                                                           55

Hey, Chris, “So you think you’re a Romeo, playing a part in a picture-show, take the long way home” on Scarlet St.

When I first saw the 1945 movie Scarlet Street, based on the novel La Chienne, 

[image error]the 1979 song, Take the Long Way Home, by Supertramp kept playing in my mind.

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They are one in the same story.

Once contented with his job as a meek amateur painter and cashier for clothing retailer, old Christopher Cross, played by Edward G. Robinson, is lonely and sad that his wife who used to be nice has become intolerably nasty. After a special dinner outing with the company employees, he mopes along in the rain. He comes across a beautiful young lady in distress.

The song continues, “Cos you’re the joke of the neighborhood

Why should you care if you’re feeling good

Take the long way home

Take the long way home

But there are times that you feel you’re part of the scenery

all the greenery is comin’ down, boy

And then your wife seems to think you’re part of the

furniture oh, it’s peculiar, she used to be so nice.

When lonely days turn to lonely nights

you take a trip to the city lights

And take the long way home

Take the long way home”

Chris rescues her and buys her a coffee/drink. The distressed lady, played by Constance Bennett, is not so much a lady but is broke, down on her luck and beat up often by her boyfriend, played by Dan Duryea. Judging my Chris’s perfect manners and formal dinner attire, she takes him for being wealthy. His paintings fascinate her. She and her boyfriend scam the old man, who had bragged about the value of oil paintings. He actually never dreamed of selling or displaying his.

“You never see what you want to see

Forever playing to the gallery

You take the long way home

Take the long way home”

Chris is madly in love with the girl who puts him on a pedestal. His battleaxe wife thinks he is crazy and threatens to throw out his paints and pictures.

The song then goes, “And when you’re up on the stage, it’s so unbelievable,

unforgettable, how they adore you,

But then your wife seems to think you’re losing your sanity,

oh, calamity, is there no way out?

Does it feel that you life’s become a catastrophe?

Oh, it has to be for you to grow, boy.

When you look through the years and see what you could

have been oh, what might have been,

if you’d had more time.”

Chris ‘girlfriend’ forges her signature on his paintings. They are surprisingly good and a broker displays them in a gallery. Yet, Chris still proposes marriage even after he finds out. She laughs in his face and calls him an old fool. He is crushed and goes mad with rage.

Song concludes, “So, when the day comes to settle down,

Who’s to blame if you’re not around?

You took the long way home

You took the long way home………..”

He walks the street again, having lost everything, as a vagabond.

See? Same story.

click” Scarlet Street

click: Supertramp

Picks. Life’s complete, baseball’s back.

[image error]World Series at National’s Park? More likely this year than last. Nats to win the NL East. I see the NL Central tightening with both Cards and Pirates better, Cubs not as good. Cubs to win the NL Central.  I would bet on the Dodger’s terrific motivator, manager Dave Roberts. Dodgers to again win NL West.  Watch out for the Rockies, they and the Mets will be wildcards. Giants close, no cigar this year.

Last year I said the Indians were a dark horse. Save for a minor rain delay, they should[image error] have beaten the overrated Cubs, who were great but not the gods the ‘experts’ said. The Indians will run away with the AL East.  Buck’s birds are again overlooked, more wins for the O’s in five years than any team. Who needs starting pitching, eh? Watch out for the O’s. Blue Jays will win the AL East.  Red Sox barely made it last year; this year will fall back a notch, despite Chris Sale. I see the Astros and Mariners neck and neck. Mariners will win the AL West.  Wildcards will be Orioles and Astros (because it rhymes?).

Dark horses: Yankees and Pirates. Bucks are hungry, Yanks (picked for cellar last year, finished next to last) have J\oe Girardi, who is excellent.

Anyone can pick the winners. Last place will go to the Phillies, Brewers, Padres, White Sox, Rays and Angels. Broken old wings.

Conjuring Up Psycho, Rihanna Hides Out with the Loot at Bates Motel; are you watching, Hitch?

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Rihanna (in Janet Leigh’s role) with Freddie Highmore (Norman Bates). Image via: Entertainment Weekly
Wonder no more. It’s on. The Bates Motel series made its inevitable turn last Monday on A&E toward ‘Psycho’ when Rihanna takes the money and runs. She is Marion Crane, played by Janet Leigh in the iconic 1960 horror flick. Even the music is eerily similar as she drives off with the stolen dough to “that motel” to hopefully join her boyfriend. Rihanna has a date with Norma (Norman) in the shower scene coming up. Don’t miss it. This time no chocolate syrup for the blood.

Nader’s Book ‘Unstoppable’ a Formula for Talking Heads to Listen

[image error]In recent weeks, I can’t seem escape the frustrations and outright anger expressed by my friends who are dedicated to set-in-concrete ideologies of either the left or the right.  Newscasts and red-faced commentators give me no relief. I found it in career listener Ralph Nader’s new book.

In Unstoppable, the Emerging Left-Right Alliance to Dismantle the Corporate State, Nader offers movers and shakers, and especially the stallers, a well-referenced guidebook on how to work together, and across the aisle, to prevail over the modern corporate state and crony capitalism.

He illustrates how corporation interests block bipartisan hand clasping on issues important to the tax paying public, such as the eroding of civil liberties, the corporate welfare state, and America’s perpetual need for wars instead of sound trade agreements. “Convergence is not for the timid. Convergence is for pioneers breaking out of cultural ruts to move to the higher planes. Of human agreement and achievements.” All well and good you say.

But give the great consumer advocate Nader his due. He has earned his strips in political scrutiny. Nader brings to the table tasty morsels of successful convergences from American history to show how conservatives and liberals have lost their appetites for compromising with each other. Emerging from Roosevelt’s liberal New Deal, he says, many activists and intellectuals, for example, saw the necessity of radical change in the face of dire circumstances. Nader documents conversion efforts aimed at righting the national economy, giving the right and left share of credit. From Jefferson to Eisenhower Eras, Nader sites examples of convergences. But, that was then. Now the essence of political will has changed from flexible rubber to fast-hardening cement.

Pure Nader in this book is found in his letter, Dear Super Rich, to the more than 100 top billionaires, who have pledged to help “good causes.” He explains, “When you see their website ( http://givingpledge.org ), you’ll see that just on this list are possibilities that would take us beyond tilting at windmills.

Do leaders dare jeopardize funding by joining forces “to take on deplorable corporate practice or position?” Nader asks in the pivotal Chapter 6, Obstacles to Convergence and How to Overcome Them. He writes, “Whether you work at a think tank, a university, a corporate law firm, a public relations firm, or as an independent consultant, you would have to think twice. Money from businesses, their foundations and their executives flow daily into these institution’s coffers. If they are not overly contractual, the implied quid pro quo in exchange for this largess is that the donor will get a polemical or scholarly defense to trumpet to third parties.” Scholarly apologists, for example, will defend big box stores blocking minimum wage increases because such raises will cost lower-paid workers their jobs, he says. Sound familiar? Nader gives lots of examples on the right and on the left.

Therefore, seeking a convergence may threaten your infrastructures. You may find it is uncomfortable to go off the chart to listen and court the other camp to find solutions. Worse yet, “your social life might shut down, Invitations to homes and restaurants for dinner start to decline. You’re not on the guest list any more. Outings with your customary friends and their families become rarer. You float free.

Don’t believe it? Well you might find yourself …. Well, anyway, Nader could just as easily just put his song to music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1wg1DNHbNU

AA Used Brilliantly in ‘Tombstones’

[image error]The influence of Alcoholics Anonymous is brilliantly integrated into the plot by Lawrence Block in ‘A Walk Among the Tombstones.’ I think Block very cleverly introduces AA and then reveals its proper role gradually into the behavior of the protagonist Matt Scudder. He is Block’s serial private crime investigator who is a bit different in each installment. Here is why, from Amazon.com page for Block’s ‘The Devil Knows You’re Dead.’:

Editorial Reviews

From Booklist

There’s a new trend afoot in the series mystery. Mickey Spillane, Nero Wolfe, Sherlock Holmes, and their investigating cohorts seldom changed from book to book. Part of their appeal, in fact, was their consistency. Contemporary series authors, however, such as Bill Pronzini, Robert P. Parker, Joseph Hansen, and Lawrence Block, have taken the series character a step further, allowing growth and change to occur to the hard-boiled hero just as they do to ordinary mortals. Block’s recovering alcoholic Matt Scudder is a perfect example. Once isolated by guilt, angst, and booze, Scudder was the quintessential loner. Now, as his never-ending recovery continues, his world has begun to expand. He has a true friend in Mick Ballou, a sidekick in street urchin T. J., and a lover in former hooker Elaine. Hired by the brother of a mentally handicapped vet accused of the murder of attorney Glenn Holtzmann, Scudder finds that the victim was both less and more than he appeared to be. Much to his surprise–because he loves Elaine–Scudder becomes involved with Holtzmann’s widow. The resolution of the case is a logical surprise that will leave readers contemplating an indifferent universe. Though Scudder’s world is as bleak as it’s ever been, he’s letting a little sun shine through. It’s nice to see a friend happy. Wes Lukowsky –This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

Super Cool Podcast! from Lovely Southwest

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Eavesdrop on the Winter Bird Calls of the Lower Rio Grande Valley

Green Jays, Audubon’s Orioles, Plain Chachalacas—this subtropic bird paradise is a lively place all year long.

This audio story is brought to you by BirdNote, a partner of The National Audubon Society. BirdNote episodes air daily on public radio stations nationwide. Hear more.

 

Kill ’em and Leave

James Brown personifies Black history in America in profound ways, according to James McBride in his “Kill ‘em and Leave: Searching for James Brown and the American Soul.” I can’t explain it as McBride did. Read the book to learn that against all odds, the irascible, enigmatic, yet generous Godfather of Soul did it his way.

In McBride’s words, “the search for understanding begins at the margins.” He moves in slowly and skillfully though dialog with many of Brown’s band members and associates.

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I liked the book so much I read it again after finishing it. Not that it flows all that well. It is a work of journalism, with analysis of black-white race relations in Brown’s lifetime, insights about famous events, and musical history of funk, soul, Motown and jazz through marvelous specifics about well-known and lesser-known singers, musicians, their bands, managers, and attorneys. You learn a lot about headline acts you thought you knew.

Our book club was taken aback a bit by some nasty anger McBride expresses in the beginning of “Kill ‘em,” including when he indicts as bigoted the entire current South nine pages in, I think. But, McBride tosses many things at the reader that grab and hold on. So, read on Southerners. In fact, he reports that Brown and his pal Al Sharpton thought the North was more racist.

The book gives the reader an appropriate drenching of outrage from the still-on-going, disgusting human behavior over Brown’s will, as attorneys continue to make millions on the vapor of Brown’s legacy, keeping his will in courts and never letting it reach the street, as McBride tells. Brown wanted to leave the bulk of his fortune to the education of poor children in his native South Carolina and Georgia. The kids have received not a penny. Brown died in 2006.

I ordinarily do not like to know much about the artist performing work that I admire a lot. But with James Brown, you sort of know what you will get, and still love him in some way.

Her case now closed: Della Street joins Paul and Perry in Hollywood heaven with their customary steak dinner

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R.I.P. BARBARA HALE OF ‘PERRY MASON’
Actress immortal as Della Street

Barbara Hale, best known for her role as Della Street on the legal drama Perry Mason, passed away Thursday at the age of 94.

Born in 1922 in Northern Illinois, Hale moved to Hollywood in 1943 and started appearing on film in uncredited roles.

Not long after she arrived in the City of Angels, Hale signed a contract with RKO Pictures. In the 1940s, she appeared in the films Lady Luck, West of Pecos and Higher and Higher, the latter with Frank Sinatra. See MeTV