Tag Archives: honor

Legends at the Bowl

Posted on October 16, 2023 | 3 comments

The show on Saturday was incredible.

Like most Los Angeles landmarks, I first learned of the Hollywood Bowl by watching the Beverly Hillbillies, which come to think of it feels somewhat appropriate on a personal level. In Season 1, Episode 23, originally aired in 1963, a con-man tried to sell Jed Clampett the Hollywood Bowl, Griffith Park, and the freeway between them. I absolutely remember watching that rerun, and that I ended up there watching legends perform seems as unlikely as Jethro Bodine.

Back to Saturday night: Our friends, Mikey and Jenna, bought four tickets for “Brandi Carlile and Friends” and graciously invited us to join them for an evening at “the Bowl.” (Nothing makes me feel so L.A. as saying that I’m going to a concert at “the Bowl.”) Unfortunately, Mikey and Jenna had to cancel their trip but shared the tickets so that we invited Erica and Natalie to join us. What a gift that turned out to be for all four of us.

I confess that I did not know the difference between Brandi Carlile and Belinda Carlisle until a few weeks ago, but Jody had sufficiently introduced me to the musical genius of Brandi Carlile prior to the show—and she absolutely delivered, as anticipated. But what we were not prepared for was the “and friends” portion of the show title. There were amazing performances by artists who may very well be ridiculously famous someday, too, but the crazy surprises started when Wendy & Lisa (of Prince fame) joined the show, much to my wife’s delight.

And then, Annie Lennox. Holy cow, Annie Lennox was incredible. Annie Lennox is pushing seventy but, pardon the pun, hasn’t missed a beat. She hit the stage wearing a tilted fedora and as you can imagine mesmerized the audience with her inimitable voice and trademark scowl, waving her arms like someone attempting to land an airplane in a hurricane. It was phenomenal and more than we bargained for.

But then: Joni Mitchell. My goodness. Joni Mitchell. For a regal end to a joyous evening, the stage set rotated and Joni Mitchell appeared, sitting as a queen on a gilded throne, with Annie Lennox on her right hand and Brandi Carlile on her left. The crowd went berserk.

Joni Mitchell is only ten years ahead of Annie Lennox but suffered a brain aneurysm rupture in 2015 and stayed seated through the musical set, unable to walk without assistance, often stopping to cough as she attempted to sing, but her musical gifts were evident throughout, and it was sweet in all the best definitions of sweet just to hear her voice. My favorite part, however, was watching her right arm instinctively skip back and forth to the beat in a mystical dance with the walking cane that she held in her right hand. It was a sight to see, and it was beautiful.

At the end, when our hearts were flashing danger signs that they just might explode if we didn’t stop, Brandi Carlile suggested that we sing Happy Birthday to Joni Mitchell since we probably won’t be at her house when she turns eighty in a couple of weeks, so sixteen thousand of us enthusiastically sang a song to Joni Mitchell, a song that celebrates the fact that she was born, which felt like the exact right thing to celebrate. What a night.

I am certain that the sixteen thousand of us in attendance will think of that night often as time marches on, but I am already thinking how impressive it is that a gigantic talent like Brandi Carlile chooses to use her prominent status to celebrate the legends that changed the world and inspired her. It doesn’t look like I am going to be a gazillionaire after all, but if that had happened, I can only hope that I would choose the same.

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This Is Life

Posted on January 29, 2016 | 2 comments

Flipping through television channels is one of my least favorite things to do, but that is what I was doing Sunday evening when I discovered CNN’s “This is Life with Lisa Ling,” a series that describes itself by saying that Ling “goes on a gritty, breathtaking journey to the far corners of America.” The episode I watched was more grisly than gritty as she journeyed to the L.A. County Coroner’s office (like “This is Death with Lisa Ling”).

The show was creepily captivating—and a little personal since I learned that everyone who dies in L.A. County outside of being in a hospital under physician’s care is taken to the warehouse that Ling toured for the world to see. I live in L.A. County.

I also learned that approximately eleven thousand dead bodies are processed in same warehouse each year, which if you do the math, is a lot. The crazy number is at least understandable since L.A. County is the most populous county in the nation (ten million people!), which is like Arkansas plus Mississippi plus Oklahoma (or, for easy math, the nation of Sweden). But still. That thirty dead people on average show up there every day is just difficult to imagine.

Ling introduced viewers to several employees filling several roles at the Coroner’s, and in so doing, basically walked us through the entire process. In particular, we followed the path of the unidentified dead, from the search for family members to the eventual cremation of those whose families cannot be found.

I mean, it was a fun show. Sort of a new Addams Family!

No, it was heartbreaking. Until, that is…

At the end of the hour, Ling shared that the Coroner’s office periodically hosts a multi-faith service in Evergreen Cemetery to honor the unidentified, which sadly numbered over a thousand at the one featured on our television screen. That part was still heartbreaking. The heart-mending part for me was the point Ling made that although these souls died alone, their ashes are honored in community.

That part—the honoring of all people in community—fits the name of Ling’s show. That is what life is all about if you ask me. Now, if we can just work backward and honor the lonely while they are still alive, we will have arrived at someplace worthwhile.

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Remember Sacrifice

Posted on May 25, 2015 | 1 comment

I don’t like giving up dessert to improve my health. I don’t like giving up a baseball game for work. I resist giving hard-earned cash even for causes I deeply support. Heck, I don’t even like giving up a good parking space for someone who needs it worse than I do.

But to inspire positive change, sacrifice is inevitable.

On this Memorial Day, I recall presiding over numerous military funerals at Biloxi National Cemetery on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. It is difficult to have fond memories surrounding death, but there is something special about a military funeral: the peaceful grounds, the perfect order of the markers, and the folding and presentation of the flag to a grieving family that pierces the hardest heart.

As officiant, my back was always turned to the twenty-one gun salute, and I never was prepared for the explosion of gunfire from the seven rifles that shattered the still, humid air. I shuddered on each of the subsequent rounds even though I knew they were coming.

The most poignant moment was the playing of Taps. Even when the family had held it together, the initial notes of that haunting melody, low, low, high . . . burst the tear duct dam every time. I never noticed if the bugler was a pimply-teenage boy or middle-age mother—the identity did not matter. The command was in the music, and the last dying note hung in the air with such rich honor that no one dared to breathe.

Honor.

Surely the cruel specter of death was not honored. Surely the hell of war was not honored. I am sure it was the tragic beauty of sacrifice that was worthy of such solemn respect and dignity.

The very name, Memorial Day, instruct us of its aim—to remember—but I prefer the negative framing—that individual souls not be forgotten.

This nation, in fact every nation has a vested interest in asking its citizenry to remember such sacrifice for a nation needs human resources to carry out its survival goal. And in our deeply divided political climate we can argue national policy that leads to war, and we do, and we should. But today, I wish we could lay that aside for a few moments and stop shopping for a new car and grilling hot dogs long enough to remember and honor sacrifice.

On another day it might be for the firefighter who rushed upstairs while the World Trade Center collapsed. On another day it might be the police officer who kisses her husband goodbye every morning knowing that her chosen profession does not guarantee an evening safe at home. On another day it might be the activist who stands up against abusive power knowing that such a stand may very well leave him a victim of that very power.

But today, it is the soldier on the battlefield willing to die for a greater cause than self.

The aptly-named ultimate sacrifice should not be forgotten, for it is that very willingness to give up all for the good of another that is the heart of our collective desire for a better world.

For the 148th consecutive year at Gettysburg, and at locations all across the nation, the bugler takes her position . . .

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Possibly of interest:

  • The original lyrics of Taps, by Horace Lorenzo Trim:
    Day is done, gone the sun
    From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky
    All is well, safely rest
    God is nigh.

    Fading light dims the sight
    And a star gems the sky, gleaming bright
    From afar, drawing near
    Falls the night.

    Thanks and praise for our days
    Neath the sun, neath the stars, neath the sky
    As we go, this we know
    God is nigh.

  • Decoration Day by Charles Ives (performed by the San Francisco Symphony under the direction of Michael Tilson Thomas).  Decoration Day was the original name of Memorial Day.

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