168
68
5 Years LaterThe world is a lot different now. The pain of that last part of 2001 went away. It’s there, but not as abrasive as it was to me then. Not because I don’t want to think about it, but the event was one of the most emotionally powerful things I have ever experienced. When it’s brought up in conversations, I can always remember the day clearly like it was yesterday. In the wee hours of 9/11/01, I was doing laundry as always. I worked the 1PM to 11PM shift so being up all night was a normal way of life. At about 3AM, I walked up to my door to see my 78 year old neighbor Lena standing in her doorway. I have to admit, it was kind of creepy. I asked her if she was ok, and as I walked closer, I could see that her face was black and blue. I kept asking if she was ok, and she stated to me she was waiting for the air conditioning repair man. I said to her it was 3AM and no one would be coming now. My first thought was she must have had a fall, or something. But with her questions that followed, which were mumbled and trailing, I felt she may have had a stroke. She would later insist that she was ok. I left her to go to my parents a mile away but in the meantime I called 911 for her. I said I was concerned that she may have had a stroke since she had another bizarre episode occur a month earlier. They knew who she was and that was that. I would check when I returned to my apartment in the later hours. I was staying at my parents to take care of their cat, watch their place, etc. My plan was to get up about 11AM, mail some CD’s out at the post office, drop a buddy’s tape deck off for repairs, and then head to work. But most of all I was looking forward to hearing a real stereo in my new Jeep. The day before, I had installed a new CD player with stronger roll bar speakers. The tape deck prior hardly worked, so I mostly listen to KYW 1060. That’s the truth. I’m a news junkie. But I was looking forward to testing the CD player. I fell asleep about 4AM only to jump out of bed at 8:45. I stared at the clock and did a double take. Could it really be 8:45? This is far too early. I need to go back to sleep. I lay back down, only to stare at the ceiling. It’s 8:55. Well, if you get up now, you can get EVERYTHING done. Wash another load of clothes; maybe even have time to go out after work. So I fall out of bed and feed my parents cat. I leave. It’s ten after nine. The Mahavishnu Orchestra Birds Of Fire are cranked. It’s a beautiful day. The clearest the sky has been in a while. A truly perfect September day. As I drive to my apartment, there is very little traffic on the road. I am wondering to myself, it’s not a holiday is it? I get to my apartment, bring the laundry in, and look at my phone. 9 calls in the last 20 minutes. As I scrolled, I read; my work, a number from New York, and my radio station. What is up? I call my work, just as I am dialing the caller ID goes off. It’s Karen from work. “Karen, what’s up?” At first, I thought she was laughing. “Karen, what’s so funny?” “The towers, the towers…” “Karen, what towers?” “The World Trade Center!” “Karen what are you talking about?” I started to get nauseous, I knew something was up. “A plane, a plane..” Her soon to be husband worked in that area. “Karen…” Call waiting goes off again. This time it’s a buddy of mine working at a record label in New York. “Dude, what’s going on?” I asked. “You don’t know what’s going on news man? Turn your TV on, we’re under attack. A second plane just hit the World Trade Center.” “Holy shit, Dale let me call you back.” As I hung up the phone, I turned to run, and the phone rings and I realize I left Karen on the phone. “Karen, I will call you back.” She is sobbing. I hang up and run to the living room. I put the TV on scampering for
Fox News on my remote. The image of the second plane is being replayed again and again. Oh my god. This is awful. Karen called again, and heard from Chris, he was ok and blocks away at a meeting. I was stunned. I suddenly welled up. This was just awful. What the fuck just happened. Phone rings again. It’s Reggie, my early radio show confidant and assistant. “Holy shit.” “Dude, it’s obviously a terrorist attack.” I said. “Reg, get little Reggie out of school, this is not a good thing.” We talked some more, and I started scrambling to find my parents hotel number in Rome, Italy. My phone rings again. It’s my buddy Steve. “Are you watching this?” “I know,” I replied. “A plane just crashed into the Pentagon.” I got really sick at this point. My fears began to grow, when I thought of my parents. Here’s a couple that has never gone away to a distance like this in 30 some years, and this happens. This is awful. Can they get home? When can they? I tried to get through to them, only to get constant busy signals. I was outraged. I called MCI World Com. Just ringing. I call the operator. I explain I need to make a call to Italy. She asks who my provider is. I explain only for her to reply that my service ran through the World Trade Center and they are having some difficulties with calls at this time. Then before I could even soak it in, another plane had crashed in Somerset County, Pennsylvania. I started to wonder if Philadelphia was next. It seemed it would be in perfect range. Before I could get my bearings from the shock, both towers of the World Trade Center collapsed. I broke down. Tears turned to anger. I wanted retaliation now. Finally, I get through to my parents. My mom answers, “What happened? What is going on there?” I choked up telling her everything I was seeing. How does one on vacation have fun after something like that? I arrived at work in disarray, and our boss sent us home. I sped back home and watched. My rage built up. The phone rings again, this time it’s the radio station. Bonnie asked if I would do news coverage till 5. I agreed and drove to Pemberton, N.J. I covered the news and did a professional job as I have ever done in my radio life. I covered the fall of building 7. As the hours went by, the anger turned from sadness, to depression, to the feeling of violation. I sat and wondered how this act could happen. The next day after work, I packed my Jeep with 50 gallons of water, hopped on the New Jersey Turnpike and headed north. I arrived into the Lincoln Tunnel at 11:30, only to be searched by New Jersey State Troopers. The coast guard was there, and I could even swear seeing a SWAT team there as well. I remember the police bringing mirrors in to look at the undercarriage of my Jeep. “Why are you here?” one asked. “I am here to volunteer and donate these gallons of water.” “Eagles fan, huh?” he said with only a faint grin as his eyes gazed briefly at my cap before looking at me again. “That’s noble of you, go to Chelsea pier. They have a drop off there.” I approached the toll, and spoke to the collector who explained to me she was volunteering without pay, and did not receive her last paycheck Thursday, because it was routed through the World Trade Center. This overwhelming feeling of Marshall Law surrounded me. Everyone was watching everyone. As I looked to my right facing lower Manhattan, the vision was what many of you had seen on television. But it was quiet, eerie quiet. The smell was distinct. The burnt electrical aroma completely permeated the city. As I entered Midtown at very labored speeds, there were up to 15 New York policemen at every corner. I still remember watching choirs sing God Bless America. As I approached Chelsea Pier, I waited in a small line. I informed them that I had wanted to donate my water, and I started emptying my Jeep. Then the lightening started. I wound up getting caught in a horrendous, flash thunderstorm that hindered ANY progress the workers may have had that night in their recovery efforts. As I came upon one of the piers, it was fenced off, and 4 people were standing outside, waving flags and cheering for EVERY Con Edison vehicle that passed. They cheered every policeman, fireman, and construction worker that drove by. I started to weep. And on top of this vicious storm, the temperature began to drop, producing heavy winds. But nothing deterred these fantastic people. I was truly touched. I interviewed some of these people and talked with many of their group. I then met a fantastic individual. Father Roberto Mesa. He was everywhere. People that worked at the pier were providing ponchos, hats, gloves, shoes, and boots. He insisted for me to come in and have a cup of coffee and rest. I told Father Robert, "I am ok, please.....give it to those who need it..." At any rate, he brought me in, and fixed it for me! I will never forget how sweet this man was, and the pressure that was on his shoulders. What amazed me was his ability to be everywhere at once, continuing his selflessness through the night. He even approached me later and remembered my name. I was in awe with all the turmoil, trauma, and pain surrounding this place, that there was this center point of love and care. I had people I did not even know offer me places to stay. An orthodox Jew asked me if I wanted to stay at his house and have breakfast in the morning. An older Spanish woman asked if I wanted to rest on a cot in the back. I met two gentlemen from North Jersey who teamed up with me to help bring in bagels and coffee to the firemen. Cars and trucks pulled up out front of the pier in the pouring rain to give clothing, trash bags, ice tea jugs, water jugs, sandwiches, baked goods, and other countless food items. As the work in the pier heated up, firemen started to return. The looks on their faces were that of deer in headlights. I could do nothing more but unconsciously put my hand out to thank every policemen, fireman, and other insider individual that may have walked in from the chaos. I felt heaviness in my heart. How could this happen? How could this emblematic scene in the New York skyline, along with all of its inhabitants succumb to such evil? Pointless, with no regards for human life, type of evil. But there is one thing I want all of you to keep in mind. There were more scenes of beauty amidst all this chaos. I observed closely, not missing a thing. I observed an Irish security guard helping a limping black fireman into the pier, a Puerto Rican cab driver helping a Chinese woman out of the cab then into the rest area, and carrying her cans of food she had to donate. Then a table with a Rabbi getting names of people that would be available for help the next day, a tall Greek gentleman arrived who brought in heavy sweatshirts, a Pakistani that was directing U Hauls up and back 21st and 10th avenue. I got a lump in my throat. This is America in action. This is what it is all about. This is why we are here. Only this is deeper on too many levels. At a time when differences in social issues are always a mainstay in this country, they suddenly vanished. I have never seen such unity in my life. I had hairs raised on my arm as I wrote this. All political issues, cultural disagreements, beliefs, they were shoved to the side. I worked in silence carrying goods throughout the night. My friends would call me and praise my efforts. But it wasn’t about that. I did this for me, as much as I want to help, I needed to do this. I had to. The pain was unbearable. As I drove home later that morning, I saw the center of Manhattan. The sun was not up yet, but the scene was haunting. Lower Manhattan was completely dark, only to be lit up by searchlights. The searchlights glowed amidst the smoke, shrouding silhouettes of the surrounding buildings. It is something I will never forget. I wept the whole way home. I fell asleep at 7AM, only to get up at 11AM. I arrived at work with a full beard, baseball hat, and T-shirt. My boss, who knew what I did, sent me home. I was mentally fried. I needed to go home and sleep. That’s all I wanted to do.
The Flight Of Liberty
I pulled up in front of my apartment, to find that my neighbor Lena was still not home as of yet. I had no clue what ever became of her. My other neighbor starts calling for me a half a block away. “Tommy, come ‘ere, please…this bird.” I walked over to her to see this bird with a broken wing in a box. “The cat down the street got to it," she paused and looked at me, "oh my you look exhausted..” Yeah, I haven’t slept…I was up in New York last night..” “Oh Tommy, I’m sorry, but can you help this bird?” I obliged and took the bird. I first went to the Maple Shade Animal Hospital where they told me, after having me wait for 30 minutes, that the bird would be euthanized. No thanks. I will try something different. There’s been enough death in the last few days; I don’t need to be a part of anymore right now. I called the
Cedar Run Wildlife Refuge. They told me where they were, but keep in mind, I never took my Jeep into the woods at this point. That’s where this place supposedly was. I drove for two hours trying to find it. This bird is just looking at me. It’s getting dark. I just want to sleep. I get lost 3 different times. Finally I find the place. The bird just looks at me as if to say, “What do I know? I didn’t have to be brought out here.” The woman was very nice, who actually waited for my arrival instead of going home. I brought the bird in, explained what happened to him, and she asked me what I wanted to name him. I looked at her…”Huh? Come again?” “You can name him. Just so you and we know who you are talking about when you call back.” She replied. “I don’t know, call him…I don’t know…uh Liberty. There you go. Liberty. I know that sounds cheesy.” I said. I was seriously nodding at this point. “No, that name is perfect!” She said. I got in my Jeep and drove home. I sat and thought about how I could inspire myself after all this. I just kept thinking of all of the loss from this week. I thought about those big buildings in their dominance and beauty, and how it was the New York skyline. It’s gone. I remembered back to November of 1995 when it was these very buildings I sat and philosophized about while wondering where to go with my radio show. At that time, I was at a crossroads in my life. I felt it was time to put the show to rest. I started wondering, why am I doing this week to week? Does anyone really care? The other option I had would have taken me nowhere…if I chose that route. It was that Thanksgiving Eve, in the cold, crisp Manhattan air that
King Crimson was to play at the Long Acre Theater. I had what alcoholics call a ‘moment of
clarity’. I woke up. I should say, the city woke me up. The energy came through the street and engulfed me. It’s time to take the show to a new level. I drove home listening to the new Genesis tribute CD titled Supper's Ready and put
Back In NYC on repeat. I was fired up. A new dawn was upon me. A new beginning was here. And in my vision ahead was that beautiful, inspirational skyline. The skyline that put my mind on track. Get it together son…that night I would interview
Trey Gunn of Crimson, have Shishkabob at 3AM from a vendor, in the glory of the city that does not sleep. Maybe that was why I went to volunteer 6 years later, to give something back. Looking in hindsight 5 years later, I have learned a lot about myself. I am far more generous to help, yet more cautious about things and the places that I go. I watch people a bit more closely. People have become far off base in their views since that tragic day. It’s amazing how quick we forget. I didn’t. I think about it often. I am always amazed at the people that finger point. It doesn’t matter what political affiliation you are, Democrat, Republican, Independent, our way of life changed that day. People want us dead. They don’t care about what your views are. Even if you are Muslim. To them, you are amidst the evil system. They want to kill you, your wife, your baby, your friends, your idols with nothing but reckless abandon. Let us argue all of our stupid differences here in the U.S., while they plan to murder us in mass numbers. This is something I whole heartedly believe we have to win.
Dr. Vernon Chong, a retired Air Force General, a surgeon with a distinguished 31-year military career who has been serving on the California Veterans Board said this:
"We would no longer be the premier country in the world." OK, so you say what's a little wounded American pride? Read on.
If we lose, "The attacks will not subside, but rather will steadily increase. Remember, they want us dead." Repeat, "They want us dead, not just quiet [Italics mine]. If they had just wanted us quiet, they would not have produced an increasing series of attacks against us over the past five years. The plan was, clearly, for terrorists to attack us until we were neutered and submissive to them."
And if we don't submit but simply withdraw from the conflict and go on about our business? For one example of what would follow, see "World Trade Center" and see the kind of living hell likely to be showered on every last holdout community in America. They will not just leave you alone if you leave them alone.
And don't expect any other nation even to try to bail us out if we end up in that predicament. By that time, they would fear reprisals and would be unable to help us.
The Islamic fascists have already picked off Spain by using terrorism to get the Spanish to pull troops out of Iraq. Spain is finished. They tried to send the same message to the British, but our cousins across the pond held firm. Thank God for Tony Blair.Columnist Wes Vernon said this:
“We — as a people — need to take this war seriously; we and our loved ones will face a hell on earth. This past week, one United States senator who "gets it" paid a political price. Democrat Joe Lieberman lost his primary race in Connecticut. The senator will now run as an independent. Some of the bitter left-wing bloggers are suggesting Senate Democrats kick him off his committee seats and deny him membership in the Democrat caucus since he has "left" the Democrat Party.
Adding insult to injury, the man who defeated him is right out of central casting as your "Make love, not war" child of the sixties elitists. As recently as Sunday on Fox News, Ned Lamont called for cutting and running in Iraq within a year (a la the Kerry-Feingold Amendment), leaving behind personnel for "reconstruction and training," with a lick and a promise that "we'll be there to make sure that Iran and others don't come in there to create any mischief [How? Maybe by building a couple of hospitals? Now that will scare the half-crazed president of Iran]. Lamont also trashed the NSA warrantless wiretaps tracking phone conversations between terrorists abroad and jihadists in secret cells here at home. Lamont, an heir to the J.P. Morgan fortune, has said the reason Iran threatens the world with nuclear annihilation is that the Bush administration has offered too many sticks to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and "not enough carrots." Nonsense, we've tried every feasible diplomatic approach in the book. How do you negotiate with a mad dog? Mike Wallace's cordial interview with Ahmahdinejad on "60 Minutes" did not undo that dilemma.
Ned Lamont is not a serious man. His family background suggests at best a tradition of tone-deafness to threats from America's enemies. He is the grand-nephew of Corliss Lamont, an infamous Stalinist who — if he was not, as he claimed he was not, a card-carrying member of the Communist Party — arguably cheated the party of dues payments. This is not to suggest the sins of the ancestor should be visited upon the child, but it is legitimate to notice when failure to take the measure of our enemies runs in the family of a would-be U.S. Senator, if the candidate himself today appears to be carrying on that tradition. There is no doubt the world has changed. I agree with almost everything we have done so far as a nation. All the naysayers suddenly sang a different tune when it directly affected them, then. What a silly nation we are. It's almost as if we need another big one to make everyone understand that there are no 'negotiations' with these people. Bush said it right. It’s not a clash of civilization; it’s a struggle FOR civilization.
As for my post 9/11, things looked up after, my parents arrived home from Italy as the first flight to leave that country in post 9/11. I would later find out 2 months later, that Liberty’s wing healed, and was flying around Cedar Run, and as for my neighbor Lena, she did in fact have a stroke that fateful morning. And her family thanked me for my efforts.
Le Festival Des Musiques Progressives De MontrealSaturday’s show was a focus on this tasty looking festival taking place on September 15th, and 16th. All things look to be a go except for the recent news of the band Talisma. Talisma's bass player, Donald Fleurent, broke his arm badly a few days ago. They will not being playing at the FMPM pre-show on Thursday, September 14 2006 at La Place à Côté (4571 Papineau Street, near Mont-Royal). Disappointing. I enjoyed their 2 discs. The good news is a great band from Quebec City has volunteered to fill in at the last minute, a future
Unicorn Digital recording artist, Signs of One. You'll find their website at
http://www.signsofone.com/. For the first time in a while,
Voiceprint Records sent us music! In our
4th Hour Space Out we featured their latest MINI-ALBUM titled
Take Me To Your Future. At 37 years young,
Hawkwind are releasing their latest mini-album in the new Dual Disc format.
Take Me To Your Future includes visual elements as well as the traditional audio elements. One side of the disc will feature the audio segment of the album
Take Me To Your Future which includes a new re working of
Uncle Sam’s On Mars, Small Boy, which will be a taste from a forthcoming CD that features both Dave Brock and Bob Calvert. The Reality of Poverty is another song that features none other than Arthur Brown and former Hawkwind member Simon House…spacey man, spacey. I also featured the guitarist known as the
Thunder From Down Under,
Frank Gambale. He has a new compilation out titled
Best Of Jazz & Rock Fusion…a great look back on the music of Gambale.
Phuckin’ PhilliesWhen I was a kid, the first sport anything I was
introduced to, besides Coleco Telstar, was Baseball. My dad got me into the red hot Phillies of 1978. I was spoiled. We won a world series in 1980, and returned in 1983. They truly had some amazing teams. Mike Schmidt was the man, Steve Carlton was a gem, John Denny had that break out year. I watched 98% of those games very, very closely. By the mid 80’s, I stopped watching and started getting into the Eagles. I became a huge fan, and started going to games in 1990. But I still loved the Phillies. They sucked, but I still followed them fairly close. 1993 changed everything. A team predicted for last place rose to the ranks of World Series material. Great story. They lost, but hey, who woulda thunk it? As long as the scumbag Mets are out of it, I could care less. My thought is this, if you beat Atlanta and New York consistently, preferably badly, and throw in some wins over the Cardinals, I am a happy fan. The Phillies had no commitment to win with Ed Wade, but did have some great players. Seeing Rolen go crushed me. JD Drew, well he was an idiot who just didn’t want to play for us, but that irked me as well. One time I saw the fans throwing batteries at him and an out of towner turned to me and said, “Why are they throwing batteries at him? That is just awful.” I looked back and said, “Just be happy they aren’t car batteries their throwing.” Last year I started to see something in the Phillies I haven’t seen in a while. They were winning. Like winning ball games. Close ones. Routs, good pitching. But alas, 2nd place again. Well the Phillies totally had me thinking in May they were going to give the Mets a run for their money. Well, then June happened. But now, since the All Star break they are making stuff happen. Phillies are like around 2 games out in the wild card. This could be interesting. Ryan Howard is a monster, Chase Utley comes to play everyday, and the new guys are making an impact already. I just hate the fact I am watching every game. Or trying to get a score always. Following other teams like San Diego, San Francisco, Florida. It’s too much. Shit the Eagles just started. It would be nice to have 2 teams to watch for a change in the autumn. Speaking of Eagles, nice win by the
way. I predicted 20-10. They won 24-10. This weekend the Eagles have their real test. Although I think the Giants have some great players, I think Eli Manning is a dud quite frankly. He is not Peyton. I am still waiting for some greatness from this kid. We’ll see, it could be Sunday. I think the Eagles are being cast aside this season as possible playoff team, which I think is just awesome. Keep it up. I hope they blow the doors off the NFC. To me, the other teams in our division are just mediocre at best. Dallas picked up T.O. And? What else? Bledsoe goes down or starts playing like shit consistently, they are done. D O N E. No depth. And when T.O. starts his shit, oh forget it. The Redskins? No. I just don’t see it. They throw money at their problems constantly and it has not gotten the job done. The Giants? They may have a great team, but I want to see what it is they are going to do. Their Sunday night game was joke. Penalized constantly. I hear every year for the last 3 that Eli is a rookie. Rookie mistakes. DUDE IT’S THREE YEARS NOW. We’ll see. My prediction for this weekend:
Eagles defense tee’s off on Eli. He does nothing. Eagles 35, Giants 10
This Program Ran 4 Hours and 7 Minutes
surroundings say another. I was given the clues of truth in achy knees and an urge for a pullover. It’s unstoppable. It’s coming. I fight it. Even though my love affair of it year after year returns, my body begs to differ. I leave the windows off in rebellion. As I move east, I move into overcrowded terrain. Showcased by lights to my right, and spoiled woods to my left. The further I move the closer to the smell of the color green. The road hums beneath my wheels. I can hear the rubber pins on the sides of my tires cut through the air. I am out in the open. My CD player skips at every light bump I approach. It’s agonizing. I move into the crossroads of Marter. Diesel fills the air, as do 19 year old girls driving their first cars on cell phones…and not using turn signals. I crack a slight smile. I light a cigarette before the light changes. Up and left, foot down again, down and left, foot down again, up and center, accelerating all the while. I sled down the hill as the night invades the sky. Much like the approaching autumn, it happens while you are looking for it. I remember a barren road now filled with crammed housing, pizza places, and the smell of broiled burgers. The road grows narrower with passengers. The last majority disperses, and I am alone. I see lonely fields with black and white memories. God, this used to be fun. I’m distracted by an urge to hear what the pushing Phillies are doing. Down, but not out, I listen. I watch the trooper making himself obvious in the brush, while the car behind me slows down quickly. The smell has turned to burning slate. It permeates the air in this place. How do people not get sick here? I put out my cigarette. I see that Dadz makeover can’t really change the clientele that still grovel up. You can’t polish a turd. It’s never going to change, this is how it is. In a way, I am comforted by that. The person ahead is ten miles under. I move, and pass. I approach the winner’s circle. If you are at 15 minutes before the hour, you will get there in good time. This road’s scenery has changed a dozen times while the road itself hasn’t. I hit pot holes that break away to reveal the dirt road it once was. Wal-Mart sits lifeless here. Did they fail here? Out with the old, in with the new doesn’t always work. The fields on my right once occupied, have ‘for sale’ signs. This will be gone soon as well. Maybe not now, but soon. I stare before the White Dotte almost as if to say, ‘relish this now, for you will remember what it once was before it hits you that you have aged’. The light turns green, the road title changes, and the dip makes my bags hit the floor. I pat my dashboard in complimenting my girl, while sugar sand dust remains on my fingers. I smile again. A run gives us the lead. I pass by Cheeks, a place that has failed since Butch left us. I hear big rigs downshift, and my reception cuts out. It’s a race to get to a 35 mph zone as the road narrows. A soon to be lady of the night stands at the old motel trying not be obvious, while the smell of coffee travels from the Dunkin Donuts. Maybe I should have stopped. The light turns green and I move forward, only to stop on the road that shouldn’t be. It follows the old path of the rail line that once ruled here. I have passed the gateway into the kingdom. I arrive to the old path, and make my right. The truck behind me pressures, while I purposely slow down. He backs off, and I turn right. I am at my Saturday night home. My haven. The place that keeps my sanity, and allows me to forget my other world. It’s cozy here. And I run the table. There are deer in the field. I park in the circle and sit. I hear the dried leaves roll by me. It’s time to go in. It’s time to make my people happy. Maybe when I get done I will be happy with what I have done tonight. But seriously, have I ever? I have done this over 572 times here. And again, I acknowledge the equinox.....
and without the help of Jack Luminous of Night Vision, none of you would have heard it! We featured it to wide applause by listeners both locally and internationally. The thing with the Mars Volta based upon listener response is either “I love it”, or “I hate this.” That means….THEY ARE LISTENING. As much as the Mars Volta deny or ignore it, their admiration from the prog rock community is silently very strong. They are doing different things from album to album intelligently enough to garner this. Amputechture will be a top tenner for 2006. #1? I don’t know for sure…but it debuts at #1 in our weekly top 20. A few months back you may have noticed we have featured a new various artists CD titled Giant For An Hour. The CD was released in 2005, and had some favorable response on our program, and will fit in nice with our upcoming Gentle Giant documentary. Well my boy Andy Kubicki has returned with the sequel titled Giant For Another Hour. This new disc features yet another hour of Gentle Giant inspired music by various artists. A must have if you are into the tribute thing….but remember THESE AREN’T REMAKES. Just inspirational music. It’s been quite some time since I played the music of Jade Warrior. 1999 was the last time I think. I decided to make it a 4 week spotlight on each newly reissued release from Eclectic Discs. Originally doing three albums on the Vertigo label, the band sorta split and became a twosome. Field and Duhig were good multi-instrumentalists in a worldly kind of way, and were able to acquire some good session people to help. Island Records President Chris Blackwell fell in love with them after Steve Winwood nudged him a bit and would later say more or less, “Do what you want!” to the band. Now here we are all these years later, and they FINALLY remastered the albums from the original stereo master tapes. They include beautiful liner notes, a deluxe slip case and restored artwork. If you thought the sound and production was great on all those cheapo vinyl releases of these guys, GET THE CD’S! Tonight I featured to wide response, the forthcoming release from Keith Jarrett recorded live at Carnegie Hall last September from the ECM label. A wonderful pianist that you can hear by his humming and breathing that he totally feels what he does. You hear it, and you will know what I mean. We also featured a recent reissue of Rick Wakeman's Beatles tribute album from 1997 just put out on Voiceprint Records.
I decided to enjoy my last few days by getting out and driving. Anything to forget the Eagles collapse on Sunday. They gave that one away. Giants didn’t win, we lost. I have been teasing the notion for quite sometime about heading to Springfield Township, northwest of Pemberton, to a place called Arney’s Mount. This stone building at the corner of Pemberton & Arney’s Mount Road was built in 1775 on the foundation of the original log structure. What makes this one different is that it is made of Ironstone, and not brick like the rest of them in south Jersey. The place used to be called Shreve's Mount after Caleb Shreve, the original land owner. It was later changed to Arney's Mount after Arney Lippincott. This Meeting House is still used the second and fourth Sunday of every month for worship. Not to mention, the graves here date far before the building of the Meeting House. As I pulled up in the narrow driveway, I stepped upon the rocks and headed towards what seemed like an old gate that isn’t there anymore. The graves began right up to it. Headstones so old, you couldn’t tell who they were due to years of erosion. It was humbling. The beauty of the whole concept is that everyone knows that the Quakers were mostly known for being in the Philadelphia vicinity. But what people don’t know, was this area was the beginning experiment for Quakers in southern New Jersey. TRUE beginnings here. The Meeting House had two substantial fires…1800 and 1809. There is no running water or gas heat here either. I walked deeper into the cemetery, and started observing what visible names were left to be seen still. I noticed names such as White, Gaskill, Lippincott, Smith, Shreeve, Newbold,….a few Civil War soldiers, young children, and talked to them as if they were still alive as I read their names. What is interesting about this cemetery is that it is on an incline. It’s a beautiful hill with graves, surrounded by a cement wall built in the mid 1800's on the perimeter. Another cool thing about Arney’s Mount is that the Meeting House resembles a lot of the Eastern Pennsylvania structures. The stone actually came from the ground it’s on. I walked for a bit, and then headed back to my Jeep after touching the wall of the Meeting House. I hopped in the Jeep and then went down Birmingham road. The winding, warm road revealed an old school house built in the 1870’s. Keith Green, one of my colleagues, explained the layout of the mill that was once their and his family’s life there, generations ago. I stopped and looked at the nonexistent rail line that once ran through here. I watched the rabbits play and chase squirrels. I was humbled, and headed home for cheesteaks. Not the greatest vacation, but hey, at least I got some stuff accomplished. I guess I will have to do this again. I wait to return to work. I guess I should make my prediction for this Sunday, huh...? Eagles dominate and rebound over the Niners. 35-17
