Celia Cruz vs Talk Radio

October 25, 2010

At one time I listened to news/talk radio on my way to work. I gave up on that when I got sick of listening to the anger and bigotry of the callers and the "radio hosts" whose job it is to pour gas on the fire and re-enforce the callers' prejudice.

I can probably write pages about these talking heads on radio and cable, both conservative and liberal, who make millions by manipulating us into thinking they are the source of absolute truth.

It is so sad that so many people in this country rely on people like Glen Beck and Kieth Olberman for their facts.

Anyway, what does this have to do with Celia Cruz. Since I don't listen to the news anymore on my ride in and I get my sports on ESPN.com, I have recently taken to listening to NPR. Yes NPR does cover the news and world events, but during my ride time they mostly cover human interest stories. Today, they covered the "Queen of Salsa", Celina Cruz. Her NPR music clips were all terrific!!

Even though my ability to Salsa dance is about as good as my skills for riding a rodeo Brahma bull, I do love the music. Niece Rachel broke the mode of tradition and had a Salsa band at her recent wedding. It was so much fun and got everybody into the act. Imagine a group of mostly East-Coast Jews dancing Salsa..LOL , but it worked.

Ask me to name any Salsa artists and I can list two, Ricky Martin and Desi Arnez. So I found it so interesting to learn about Celia Cruz on my 15 minute trip to the office. Ms. Cruz actually reminded me of a Cuban Aretha Franklin. Her music was so full of energy. How could I not know about her? Well now I do!

Celia was born in October of 1924 in Havana. In 1950, Cruz made her first major breakthrough, after the lead singer of the Sonora Matancera, a renowned Cuban orchestra, left the group and Cruz was called to fill in. Cruz was hired permanently by the orchestra, but she wasn't well accepted by the public at first. However, the orchestra stood by their decision, and soon Cruz became famous throughout Cuba.

With Fidel Castro assuming control of Cuba in 1959, Cruz and her husband, Pedro Knight, performing in the United States at the time, refused to return to their homeland and became citizens of the United States.

In 1966, Cruz and Tito Puente began an association that would lead to eight albums for Tico Records. The albums were not as successful as expected. However, Puente and Cruz later joined the Vaya Records label. There, she joined accomplished pianist Larry Harlow and was soon headlining a concert at New York's Carnegie Hall.

By the mid-seventies Cruz had become an international star within the Latin community.During the 1980s, Cruz made many tours in Latin America and Europe, doing multiple concerts and television shows wherever she went, and singing both with younger stars and stars of her own era. She began a crossover of sorts, when she participated in the 1988 Hollywood production of Salsa, alongside Robby Draco Rosa.

In 1990, Cruz won a Grammy Award for Best Tropical Latin Performance - Ray Barretto & Celia Cruz - Ritmo en el Corazon. She later recorded an anniversary album with la Sonora Matancera. In 1992, she starred with Armand Assante and Antonio Banderas in the film The Mambo Kings. In 1994, President Bill Clinton awarded Cruz the National Medal of Arts. In 2001, she recorded a new album, on which Johnny Pacheco was one of the producers.

On July 16, 2002, Cruz performed to a full house at the free outdoor performing arts festival Central Park SummerStage in New York City. During the performance she sang, "Bemba Colora." , the you tube version will give you a good feel for her energy, even as a women in her seventies: :http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3JtzanIsFAQ .

On July 16, 2003, Cruz died of a cancerous brain tumor at her home in Fort Lee, New Jersey. She was survived by her husband Pedro Knight, who died February 3, 2007.

After her death in New Jersey, her body was taken to Miami to lie in state in downtown Miami's Freedom Tower, where more than 200,000 of her South Florida fans paid their final respects.

I have ordered some of her music. Celia will accompany me on my hikes. i expect my pace will improve!

The Tiger. A True Story of Vengeance and Survival by John Vailiant

Since a trip to far Eastern Russia is not on my agenda anytime soon nor on my bucket list, I took a journey there via John Vailiant's written word. I listened to Mr. Vailiant interviewed about his book on NPR and found the story so fascinating I had to go out and buy the book immediately.

As most of my friends and readers know, I am a big fan of non-fiction. Good non-fiction requires great writing simply by the fact that the story alone simply cannot hold the reader's interest for more than a few dozen pages. We all remember the booooring history books that were required in high school or the intro history courses in college. Only after I was out of school did I discover writers like Steven Ambrose, David McCullough, Doris Goodwin,Edwin Morris, Simon Winchester and John Krakauer to name but a few. These are writers who brought history to life as much with their prose as with their detailed research.

Valiant begins the book "Hanging in the trees, as if caught there, is a sickle of a moon. It's wan light scatters shadows on the snow below, only obscuring further the forest that this man negotiates now as much by feel as by sight."

Starting with such a vivid description I am immediately taken into the desolation of Siberia and the local lives of desperation and survival where the hunters have become the hunted. The story takes place in a forgotten part of the "New Russia" which has been abandoned with none of the wealth and modernity of cities West of the Urals. But in spite of all this, the people here are at one with their natural surroundings and have to survive like any other animal in this magnificent, raw wilderness. It is the Tiger who connects all in this story. He is the most admirable character in Vailiant's narrative. He is the one most closely connected to this region and a life and culture that is trying hard to survive, yet is loosing the battle.

The original story, which takes place in 1996 probably was probably buried in the back pages of Western newspapers, or not reported at all. A story about a Tiger eating people in Siberia might make its way to the National Enquirer, but not the New York Times.

What makes the book more interesting is how Valiant places the story of the tiger and the locals inside a historical perspective. When I turned the final page, it was if I was at one with the Tiger and his hunter, but I also closed the book with a knowledge of a part of the world I previously knew nothing about.

The imagery of post Perestroika Russia is as much a part of the story as the complexity of the characters.

I recall as a child a visit to the circus with my Dad and seeing the tigers in the center ring on their perches being "tamed" by a very masculine guy with leather boots and a whip. (No comments about the boots and whip please). I will never forget those beautiful, regal-like animals. This story brought back those vivid memories. I hoped for the tiger to prevail. Today, there are but a few Siberian Tigers surviving in the wilderness and it is likely that before too long the only ones remaining will be bred in captivity. Sadly, tigers raised in captivity cannot survive in the wilderness.

The book will make a great movie if done right. But don't wait for the movie, read the book. You will not be disappointed. And most of all, you will have a new appreciation for these beautiful, special animals.

College Football in the HEAT! Yuck!

Saturday September 25th 2010

What fun.. let's go watch the Ducks play the Devils in Tempe on a Saturday night. NOT!

Here it is the end of September and it is still over 100 degrees in the "Valley of the Sun". I am so sick of the reference to the "Sun" when we should really rename Phoenix/Scottsdale the Land of 100 days of 100+ degrees". Don't tell me there is not "climate change" going on here. When I moved here in the seventies, by the end of September your pool was too cold to swim in unless you heated it. Now the sun takes care of that till mid-October! Yes, the weather here is great from Mid-October till May, but in between, you have to endure an ceaseless parade of 100+ degree days. After 30 years this is getting old.

Anyway, back to last Saturday night. P and I and Marty (ex ASU medical doctor) parked near the stadium and tried to get into "My Big Fat Greek Restaurant" before the game. The hostess told us our wait would be about a half hour, but after nearly 45 minutes we were still waiting. We pass on the Greek and decide to get a bite at the nearby stadium.

When I ordered the tix I ordered them from the Oregon web site so we could sit with other duck fans (Marty excepted). ASU was so kind providing the Oregon fans seats as far from the field as possible. I think we were closer to Flagstaff than to Tempe. We were so far from the field that when the band played at the half it was like the sound was on "mute". I know there was a football game going on, but following the ball was impossible. We always talk about being in the nosebleed section, i.e. so high up that your nose bleeds from the altitude. Well, Marty actually saw a young boy who actually had a nosebleed!.

And then there was the HEAT. All day the concrete stadium sits in the sun absorbing hours of high temps. By the time I take my seat, the heat is still pouring out to the hot night air. Talk about a sticky butt. I will spare my readers of the details but had I been wearing an adult diaper, it would be soaked. NEVER, NEVER will I go to a game again, night or day when the temps are this hot..period.

Oh yes, Oregon won in a very ugly 4 hour game. We finally got home around 1 AM. The shower felt really good but the next day I was a total noodle. Thursday its off for Vermont for a long week-end. Can't wait to get out of the heat.

Mao's Last Dancer. Super film!

Hi guys and gals,

First off..I am really stoked. My blog got almost 100 hits yesterday. Six new countries! Including Spain, France and Romania.

A departure for me, I am now a movie critic. In a single word, I found Mao's Last Dancer "fantastic!"

On further reading of the autobio of the main character ,Li Cunxin, the movie takes some liberties. (Like one marriage that never happened and two trips to the USA) Nevertheless , for me the story is compelling.

The true story is the heartening rags-to-riches story of Li, who achieved prominence on the international ballet stage. Born in 1961, just before the Cultural Revolution, Li was raised in extreme rural poverty and witnessed Communist brutality, yet he imbibed a reverence for Mao and his programs. In a twist of fate worthy of a fairy tale (or a ballet), Li, at age 11, was selected by delegates from Madame Mao's arts programs to join the Beijing Dance Academy. In 1979, through the largesse of choreographer and artistic director Ben Stevenson, he was selected to spend a summer with the Houston Ballet—the first official exchange of artists between China and America since 1949. Li's visit, with its taste of freedom, made an enormous impression on his perceptions of both ballet and of politics, and once back in China, Li lobbied persistently and shrewdly to be allowed to return to America. Miraculously, he prevailed in getting permission for a one-year return. In an April 1981 spectacle that received national media attention, Li defected in a showdown at the Chinese consulate in Houston. He married fellow dancer Mary McKendry and gained international renown as a principal dancer with the Houston Ballet and later with the Australian Ballet; eventually, he retired from dance to work in finance. Despite Li's tendency toward the cloying and sentimental, his story will appeal to an audience beyond Sinophiles and ballet aficionados—it provides a fascinating glimpse of the history of Chinese-U.S. relations and the dissolution of the Communist ideal.

The movie exaggerates a bit of course, but the humanity of Li, his teachers, his parents and his American sponsors is admirable. I will not give away the last scene, but it brought uncontrolled tears to my eyes and most in the audience. This is a film that has been panned by many critics but loved by the limited audiences who have seen it. When the movie ended, most in the audience applauded. All of those I know who have seen the film loved it. I expect word of mouth will make this a winner.

BTW, the movie coincided with my listening to Rob Gifford's "China Road" . Rob took off on a "Jack Kerouac-like" journey across China a couple of years ago and his account of the people and places gave me a background that made the movie all the more enjoyable.

Don't miss this one. Here is the trailer:

http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/independent/maoslastdancer/

Manzanar and the Road home

September 10th 2010

All good things must come to an end and so ends our summer in Ashland. We decided to stay off interstate 5 on the route home and instead took the more inland route which passes through some of the most beautiful landscapes you will ever see. The principle part of the two-day journey in on U.S. route 395 paralleling the eastern slope of the Sierra.

Passing majestic, snow covered Mt. Shasta and the Lassen Volcano we were engulfed frequently in a literal tunnel of trees for hours It is so easy and relaxing to drive for hours through this kind of landscape a (and an excellent John LeCarre book on audio). I feast on all the eye candy and the best is yet to come.

The trusty Prius seems to drive on its own. A brief stretch through Nevada (Reno Yuck!) is the only difficult part of the trip and we are in and out of Nevada in less than an hour. Our final destination today is Lone Pine California.

Lone Pine is bordered on the West by the Sierra and Mt. Whitney, the tallest peak in the lower 48 states, and on the East about 90 miles away Death Valley. The contrasts and colors of the mountains here are overwhelming, particularly at sunrise and sunset. But despite the spectacular surroundings, Lone Pine is known for a serious blemish in the patina of American liberty.

Barely a few miles south of Lone Pine is the former site of Manzanar, the Japanese internment camp for tens of thousands of American citizens of Japanese descent during World War II.

Long before the first prisoners arrived in March 1942, Manzanar was home to Indian tribes, who mostly lived in villages near several creeks in the area. Ranchers and miners formally established the town of Manzanar in 1910, but abandoned the town by 1929 after Los Angeles purchased the water rights to virtually the entire area. As different as these groups were, their histories displayed a common thread of forced relocation..

After the Pearl Harbor attack on December 7, 1941, the United States Government swiftly moved to begin solving the “Japanese Problem” on the West Coast of the United States. In the evening hours of that same day, the FBI arrested selected “enemy” aliens, including 2,192 who were of Japanese decent. The California government pressed for action by the national government, as many citizens were alarmed about potential activities by people of Japanese descent.

On February 19, 1942, President Roosevelt signed an executive order, which authorized the Secretary of War to designate military commanders to prescribe military areas and to exclude “any or all persons” from such areas. The order also authorized the construction of what would later be called “relocation centers” to house those who were to be excluded. This order resulted in the forced relocation of over 120,000 Japanese Americans, two-thirds of whom were native-born American Citizens! The rest had been prevented from becoming citizens by federal law. Over 110,000 were imprisoned in the ten concentration camps located far inland and away from the coast.

I recently finished a book about the democracy practiced by the Indian Nations of the Northeast and how many believe it inspired the Founding Fathers in the drafting of our own Constitution. Henry James whose works were full of social and class commentary wrote of the much- admired "democratic spirit" of our country. In the case of Manzanar, and perhaps in our current times with all the flap over the new "aliens", are wee losing our way again?

"The Winter of our Discontent"

September 8th 2010

So quoted Richard II in the opening line of the play of the same name. Its only appropriate to quote from Shakespeare as we complete our six week stint in this great small town. But quite the opposite, this was our "Summer of Contentment". What a wonderful time we had!

Some of the highlights:

1. New friends..lots of them..transplants from Alaska, San Francisco, the Mid-West, the South, Ireland, New Zealand..you name it.

2. Never having turned on a TV with so many other things to do, day and night.

3. Walking everywhere, parking my car and hardly driving at all.

4. Mixing with the actors as part of the community

5. Trees, trees everywhere and daily visits thru Lithia Park

6. Deer and fawns in my backyard every day

7. Lots of local shops with friendly owners who always have time for a hello and a smile

8. Saturday and Tuesday local growers markets

9. Mountains changing colors as the day moves from sunrise to sunset

Ashland is a very special place not only for the culture and the surrounding natural beauty, but also for the people who live here. The town is a melting pot for many who came of age in the sixties and those of the younger generation who want a life of simpler things without the bling.

The town has undergone quite a change from the logging community it was only 30 years ago.

I close with the words of famous photographer, Henri Cartier-Bresson:

"Change is never just about beginning and end

states, but also about that magically indefinite

gap between them.”

I Thought I Knew Blue Till I Saw this Lake

Crater Lake Oregon September 2nd 2010.

The words spoken by Scott the Geologist(M.S.)/Ski Bum from Billings Montana on his arrival on Garfield Peak a thousand feet above Crater Lake....But frankly, words cannot describe the vistas here.

Picture yourself as an ancient Klamath tribesman here in Southern Oregon about 7,500 years ago. The ground below you begins to rumble. You look out into the distance and 12,000ft. Mount Mazama begins to erupt along with several other nearby volcanoes. If you are far enough away to survive and you look back at the mountain, it has disappeared, never to return. The magma chamber under Mazama has emptied and the mountain has literally collapsed into the empty chamber. What is left is a caldera nearly five miles wide and a few thousand feet deep.

Over time the lake fills with snow melt and rain water to a depth of almost 2000 feet deep. The lake, Crater Lake , is the deepest in North America and its water the purest you will find anywhere.

Thanks to the persistence of William Steel, an adventurer, entrepreneur, and self-appointed promoter of Crater Lake, and a lot of help from my favorite Pres. Teddy Roosevelt, Crater Lake became a National Park in1902.Steel was a member of the Portland Alpine Club, the first known alpine club in the West, and then a member of the Mazamas after the Portland Alpine Club folded.Steel not only spent time guiding influential people around the area and leading nature hikes, but he also gave campfire lectures about Crater Lake's flora, fauna and geography, much like a contemporary interpretive park ranger. Steel more than anyone else shaped the early public perception of Crater Lake. For example, he garnered a great deal of publicity for Crater Lake by hosting the Mazamas' convention and mountain climbing tour in 1896. Hundreds of people, including politicians, scientists and climbers, spent three weeks in the area. At the close of the convention, fireworks were lit on wizard Island and the group ceremoniously christened the volcano that once stood where the lake is, calling it Mount Mazama.

Today we drove two hours or so through the heavily wooded Cascades northeast of Ashland and arrived at the park. A quick lunch in the historic lodge (dedicated by T.R.) and then Deb, Larry, P and I are ready to tackle the 3 mile climb up to Garfield Peak, 8000 feet above sea level and a thousand feet above the lake. This climb is "strenuous" by park standards but I think they are over exaggerating its difficulty. Nevertheless, it took us a couple of hours to reach the summit and along the way we passed but a few hikers either ascending or descending. I am always amazed by how many people visit these parks but hardly hike anymore than a few yards from their cars or the lodge! At Crater Lake, to miss the view way above the lake is to miss a something very special.

At the top we just stopped and looked, and looked and looked. I can seriously say this was one of the most beautiful views I have ever seen in my life, even as good as the Grand Canyon. The color of the lake was as blue as blue can be and then some. Paula called it "Titian Blue" after the Italian Master of the 15th century, but i doubt if he ever saw the lake.

At the summit we snacked, fed some squirrels, and looked some more. The view was addicting. Eventually we were joined by our new friend Scott the geologist/ski bum and a few other hikers, most of them foreign of course. Put the view of Crater Lake from Garfield Peak on your bucket list, it's on mine now!

The hike down was easy but by the end my bionic ankle was throbbing. Two Advil did the trick.

The way home passed through Medford and a stop at Kaleidoscope Pizza.The K Pizza Place is a "relative" of the "Moose's Tooth Pizza" in Anchorage, a favorite of Larry and Deb. The pizza was terrific!

All in all this was quite a day. On a scale of one to ten, I would give it an eleven! Funny how some of the simplest things in life, like being in close touch with the beauty of Mother Nature, can bring so much enjoyment and peace to the soul.

On the Pacific Crest Trail with Norm the Wonder Dawg

The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) is a long-distance mountain hiking and equestrian trail that runs in Washington, Oregon, and California between Mexico and Canada. To serious hikers this is the Super Bowl, the World Series and the Masters all rolled up in one. To cover the entire trail you have to start at the Mexican Border in April and expect to reach the Canadian Border in early October before the heavy snow falls.

The trail follows the highest portion of the Sierra Nevada and Cascade Range, which parallel the Pacific Ocean by 100 to 150 miles . The Pacific Crest Trail is 2,650 miles long and ranges in elevation from just above sea level at the Oregon-Washington border to 13,153 feet at Forester Pass in the Sierra Nevada. The route passes through 25 national forests and 7 national parks.

It was designated a National Scenic Trail in 1968, although it was not officially completed until 1993. The PCT was conceived by Clinton C. Clarke in 1932; however it was not given official status until the National Trails System Act of 1968.

The route is mostly through National Forest and—where possible—protected wilderness. The trail avoids civilization, and covers scenic and pristine mountainous terrain with few roads.

On this day we drove about a half hour out of town into the Cascades with Debra, Larry and Norm the Wonder Dawg and did a six mile loop on the PCT trail…in the rain as it turned out. Even though the weather has been sunny here for weeks, fall is in the air, and if you are not willing to hike in the mist and the rain in Oregon, you might as well not hike.

Dressed properly,( thank you REI), hiking in the rain among the beautiful trees and mountain vistas is a wonderful experience. We often times stopped, took in the views, and listened to the rain gently falling. Occasionally we ran into the serious hikers who were heading North into the higher mountains. Their destination was only three to four weeks away.

Now a word about Norm the Wonder Dawg. Norm is Larry's and Debra's young English Spaniel. Norm is a real sweetheart. He has an enormous amount of energy and is lots of fun to have accompany us on hikes. Norm's only problem, he is a natural magnet for brush, mud, water, virtually anything that is close to his low-slung chassis. I made the mistake of taking our new and very clean Prius on this trip today and needless to say, there was little we could do about Norm returning to the car with half of the hike terrain attached to his body. No harm though. The towels placed in the back seat worked pretty well and the car cleaned up easily after we returned.

Back to the trail,we met a young man from Germany on the PCT (see pic) who was hiking alone after temporarily abandoning his companions in Northern California. He had recently sold his software business in Mainz and was taking time off for this five month adventure deciding what to do next. What an experience! The PCT is a magnet for Europeans like this man but there is also a story told of an 80 year old woman who covered its entirety in a pair of Keds. Well, perhaps several pairs of Keds.

Writing tonight, I think about our trip back to Scottsdale zipping along the Eastern Slope of the Sierra at 60MPH and looking up to see Mount Whitney. I will think about our young German friend, a his companions, and the lucky few with the stamina and fortitude to tackle the PCT and summit this magnificent peak. Who knows, maybe someday I will find a bunch of crazy guys (or women) and do the Sierra part of the PCT myself. Any takers out there? Dream on Shel?

Greeks, Actors, Singers for a good cause at OSF

I love Greek Mythology so here is my chance to inform my readers about Daedalus, the namesake of a fund raising organization in Ashland.

We attended the “Daedalus Concert” a few days ago with locals Larry and Debra. Why the connection between this Greek and a fund raiser for AIDS I do not know, but the name is classy anyway.

Daedalus was a very talented Athenian artisan descendent from the royal family of Cecrops, the mythical first king of Athens. He was known for his skill as an architect, sculpture, and inventor, and he produced many famous works. Despite his self-confidence, Daedalus once committed a crime of envy against Talus, his nephew and apprentice.

Talus, who seemed destined to become as great an artisan as his uncle Daedalus, was inspired one day to invent the saw after having seen the way a snake used its jaws. Daedalus, momentarily stricken with jealousy,got a little crazy and threw Talus off of the Acropolis.

For this crime, Daedalus was exiled to Crete and placed in the service of King Minos, where he eventually had a son, Icarus, with the beautiful Naucrate, a mistress-slave of the King. Minos called on Daedalus to build the famous Labyrinth in order to imprison the dreaded Minotaur. The Minotaur was a monster with the head of a bull and the body of a man. He was the son of Pasiphae, the wife of Minos, and a bull that Poseidon had sent to Minos as a gift. Minos was shamed by the birth of this horrible creature and resolved to imprison the Minotaur in the Labyrinth where it fed on humans, which were taken as "tribute" by Minos and sacrificed to the Minotaur in memory of his fallen son Androgenos.

Theseus, the heroic King of Athens, volunteered himself to be sent to the Minotaur in the hopes of killing the beast and ending the "human tribute" that his city was forced to pay Minos. When Theseus arrived to Crete, Ariadne, Minos's daughter, fell in love with him and wished to help him survive the Minotaur. Daedalus revealed the mystery of the Labyrinth to Ariadne who in turn advised Theseus, thus enabling him to slay the Minotaur and escape from the Labyrinth. When Minos found out what Daedalus had done he was not exactly overjoyed, in fact he was so pissed that he imprisoned Daedalus & Icarus in the Labyrinth themselves.

But Daedalus was no fool and conceived to escape from the Labyrinth with son Icarus by constructing wings and then flying to safety. He built the wings from feathers and wax, and before the two set off he warned Icarus not to fly so low that his wings would touch the waves and get wet, and not too high so the sun would melt the wax. But the young Icarus, overwhelmed by the thrill of flying, did not heed his father's warning, and flew too close to the sun , melted the wax and he fell into the sea. Daedalus fared better in his flight plan and escaped to Sicily where the Corleone family took him in..(I made up that last part). Icarus' body was eventually carried ashore by the current to an island then without a name. Heracles came across the body and recognized it, giving it burial where today there still stands a small rock promontory jutting out into the Aegean Sea, and naming the island and the sea around it after the fallen Icarus.

As for the Ashland Daedalus Project, it has been around for over twenty years and each year it seems to raise more money for worthy local causes. The big event is the annual concert in the Elizabethan Theater where the OSF Actors and Staff get to let their hair down and perform their own version of Saturday Night Live. There is hardly an empty seat and a great time is had by all, especially the actors. The intermission highlight is the actors underwear parade, where you get to “stuff” their outfits with $$ bills. Some attract more attention and $$ than others for obvious reasons. On a serious note, the evening ends with many on stage with lit candles remembering and naming loved ones who have been lost to AIDS related illnesses.

Jam, Dunes and Deals

Friday August 21, 2010

Well I went a little crazy this morning on the jam thing. Misty Meadows is a world class jam store just south of Bandon. they must have 100 varieties of jam and most if it comes from local berries. I love jam. Put it on a piece of whole wheat toast and i am in heaven. Put it on anything for that matter, even pizza. Paula was my partner in this craziness and after 30 minutes in the store we were $80 poorer for our trip to jam nirvana. Check outhttp://www.oregonjam.com/ if you want to order something really good that is still legal.

After blowing the money on the jam and a delightful breakfast in Old Bandon we headed North to Reedsport and the Oregon Dunes National Recreation Area. Our intention was to do an extended hike, but because of the time, we opted to just look at them from a high viewing point. We took some additional time talking to a very nice the Park Ranger(they all are nice BTW) scoping out our next trip when we can really spend a whole day hiking. I had to wait a bit to talk to him as there was a rather robust gentleman, using the term loosely, from North Carolina insisting that his dunes in N.C. were bigger than the Ranger's dunes here in Oregon. I was restrained by not asking this man if he thought his"maleness' was also bigger by comparison. "Be good Shel" I keep telling myself in these situations.

The Oregon Dunes are a unique area of windswept sand that is the result of millions of years of wind, sun, and rain erosion on the Oregon Coast. These are the largest expanse of coastal sand dunes in North America. Some dunes tower up to 450 feet above sea level, providing for some amazing hiking experiences. In 1963, Congress passed a bill to establish a National Park at the Oregon Dunes. Here is some trivia: Author Frank Herbert was inspired to write the famous science fiction novel ‘Dune” based on his research about the dunes of this area.

Oh yes, what about the "deals' part? Since I have been on this extended trip from my office in Arizona i have been able to conduct my business seamlessly via my Google Phone or via internet. Today was one of those days where it all came together. Thanks to some great support in Arizona (thanks Frank and Yohannes) and the coordination of Mitch Cohen in New York, we finally closed a project that was pending for months. A great day for Jam, Dunes and Deals! If this keeps up, i might not leave this place till the snow falls.

Goodby Columbus, or Madison, or Mesa, or Scottsdale?

Thursday August 19th, 2010

With due respect to Philip Roth, who was born in the same city that I

was, the garden spot of the Garden State, Newark N.J., this blog has nothing to do with his book. But, I do like the title for my latest blog.

We took a two-day trip from Ashland to explore the Oregon Coast and the beautiful beaches. At breakfast we had the opportunity to chat with a young couple who had recently moved to Bend Oregon from Madison Wisconsin. (Hence the title of this blog). As I travel through this state and take time to talk to anyone who looks interesting, I find so many people of all ages who have decided to make Oregon their home. The common thread among all is an appreciation for nature and the outdoors. Oregon has the lowest “couch potato” quotient in the USA.

The state has long been one of the major producers of lumber in the USA and the evidence of clear-cutting is everywhere. Check the pic attached and you can see what “clear cutting” looks like. Not a pretty site. However, in the last twenty years or so the state has finally figured out how to balance the needs of the lumber industry and holding on to local jobs and those who want to see pristine forests everywhere. And fortunately the “old growth” forests are being harvested in way that keeps them healthy and vibrant.

Then there are the beaches and the miles and miles of endless huge dunes. Most of the immediate shoreline in the state is protected and accessible to all through the state parks and U.S. Forest Service. You can hike till you drop along the two hundred mile coastline. On this trip we stayed at the Sunset Motel which sits on the cliffs above “Face Rock” in Bandon. The gull in the pic was an early morning visitor to our deck who expected me to feed him breakfast.

Bandon is now world renowned among golfers for Bandon Dunes Golf Resort which has three of the top ten public courses in America. Before it was “discovered”, I played the original Bandon Dunes Course for $40. Now daily green fees run $270, but if you really love golf it is worth every nickel to play here. We did play some golf, but at a new course, Bandon Crossings, which was quite beautiful in its own right and a fraction of cost of its famous neighbor. BTW i have to note here that P managed to score three threes on the back nine today including a 'sandy' from a deep trap.

I have only played a few times this month but my golf game seems to have come back. Perhaps it is the stretching I am doing, perhaps it is not having my goofy friends John and Dennis tormenting me, or perhaps just playing on courses easier than my home course, Desert Highlands, but in any event, my worst score this month has been 78. Hope I can bring this game back with me when I return.