When the classic song, “American Pie,” recently had its 40th anniversary, New York Daily News critic, David Hinckley, suggested that the “value of the song as a catchy tune and cultural mile marker may outstrip the profundity of its lyrics.”
Nevertheless, people have been fascinated by those lyrics for decades and have attributed various interpretations to them. But Don McLean, the man who wrote and sang the song, had this to say: “I have never discussed the lyrics, but have admitted to the Holly reference in the opening stanzas.” He then added: “You will find many ‘interpretations’ of my lyrics but none of them by me.”
On Sunday, February 5, 2012, Hinckley printed some interesting interpretations he received from readers as a result of his article on the 40th anniversary of the song. Whether they are true doesn’t matter. But they sure are interesting.
Concerning the lyrics, “Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry and them good old boys were drinkin’ whisky and rye,” one reader wrote that in the 1960s there was a bar in New Rochelle, New York, across from Iona Prep, where McLean went to high school. The bar was called the Levee and was a popular hangout for local high school students. However, although the drinking age at the time was 18, the bar was “dry” for the high school students.
Another reader added that one day, when the Levee bar was closed, McLean supposedly drove to the Mug Ale House in Rye, New York, where he drank whisky “in Rye.”
Okay, now I understand.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
What's wrong with America
Like millions of Americans, I sat in front of my television set prepared to enjoy Super Bowl 46 (I refuse to use Roman Numerals since I’m not in Rome) on Sunday, February 5, 2012.
I watched the singing of the National Anthem. Then, just before the kickoff, NBC played a clip from an upcoming movie, the Dictator, staring Sasha Baron Cohen. The final scene of the clip showed the actor at a track meet, preparing to race what appeared to be a 100 yard dash. He fires off a pistol and begins to run. As the other runners follow suit, he turns the pistol on them and shoots them down.
At first, I thought this was funny. But then it dawned on me that millions of young people had just watched our National Anthem being sung and were waiting for the football game to begin. And this movie clip was the image that someone thought was appropriate to show them? An “athlete” shooting his fellow runners? Worse yet, this commercial was soon followed by one for the 2012 Summer Olympics. I started to wonder what a young child would make of this.
Don’t misunderstand me. I am not if favor of censorship. But there is a time and place for everything. This was neither the time nor the place for this movie clip.
Simply put, what’s wrong with America is that common sense no longer prevails.
I watched the singing of the National Anthem. Then, just before the kickoff, NBC played a clip from an upcoming movie, the Dictator, staring Sasha Baron Cohen. The final scene of the clip showed the actor at a track meet, preparing to race what appeared to be a 100 yard dash. He fires off a pistol and begins to run. As the other runners follow suit, he turns the pistol on them and shoots them down.
At first, I thought this was funny. But then it dawned on me that millions of young people had just watched our National Anthem being sung and were waiting for the football game to begin. And this movie clip was the image that someone thought was appropriate to show them? An “athlete” shooting his fellow runners? Worse yet, this commercial was soon followed by one for the 2012 Summer Olympics. I started to wonder what a young child would make of this.
Don’t misunderstand me. I am not if favor of censorship. But there is a time and place for everything. This was neither the time nor the place for this movie clip.
Simply put, what’s wrong with America is that common sense no longer prevails.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Old Friends
On January 19, 2012 I attended a multimedia presentation tracing the career of Simon & Garfunkel by legendary New York rock and roll disc jockey Pete Fornatale. The event, which was titled “How Terribly Strange to be 70,” was held before a capacity crowd of about 300 people at the Budarz Theater inside the Ossining Public Library.
Mr. Fornatale, who graduated from Fordham University in 1967, played video clips of the famous duo, both of whom turned 70 recently. The title was taken from one of their songs, Old Friends, from their Bookends album: “Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a parkbench quietly. How terribly strange to be seventy.”
Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel met when they were students at a Forest Hills, Queens high school and began singing together in the early 60s as “Tom and Jerry.” By 1965 they had a number one single, “The Sounds of Silence” under their real names. Towards the end of the decade, Fornatale was teaching English at a Catholic high school (“in order to avoid the draft,” he admitted). One day he read the poem Richard Corey to his students. They were unimpressed. The next day, he brought in a Simon & Garfunkel album and played their musical version of the poem. From that day forward, Fornatale said, he had the attention of his students, one of whom was Mike Francessa, the radio “sports pope.”
After the video clips, Mr. Fornatale introduced a special guest – Art Garfunkel himself. Garfunkel had been having throat trouble for about a year and wanted to practice singing before a live audience. I was sitting in the front row, having arrived late and been fortunate enough to snag one of the new seats that were set up in front to accommodate the overflow crowd. Accompanied by someone on piano and another fellow on guitar, Garfunkel sang about six songs, but sadly, his voice was that of a 70 year old man with a throat condition. He also looked like a 70 year old man. The top of his head, which once sported a white man’s afro, was now bald and the hair on either side was short. He wore sneakers, jeans and a white dress shirt that was not tucked in, presumably to cover his moderate stomach paunch.
Fornatale had quoted James Taylor, who said that the secret of life was enjoying the passage of time.
To that I might add, “and remembering the good times.”
Being 70 may be inevitable, but reveling in it is not much fun.
Mr. Fornatale, who graduated from Fordham University in 1967, played video clips of the famous duo, both of whom turned 70 recently. The title was taken from one of their songs, Old Friends, from their Bookends album: “Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a parkbench quietly. How terribly strange to be seventy.”
Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel met when they were students at a Forest Hills, Queens high school and began singing together in the early 60s as “Tom and Jerry.” By 1965 they had a number one single, “The Sounds of Silence” under their real names. Towards the end of the decade, Fornatale was teaching English at a Catholic high school (“in order to avoid the draft,” he admitted). One day he read the poem Richard Corey to his students. They were unimpressed. The next day, he brought in a Simon & Garfunkel album and played their musical version of the poem. From that day forward, Fornatale said, he had the attention of his students, one of whom was Mike Francessa, the radio “sports pope.”
After the video clips, Mr. Fornatale introduced a special guest – Art Garfunkel himself. Garfunkel had been having throat trouble for about a year and wanted to practice singing before a live audience. I was sitting in the front row, having arrived late and been fortunate enough to snag one of the new seats that were set up in front to accommodate the overflow crowd. Accompanied by someone on piano and another fellow on guitar, Garfunkel sang about six songs, but sadly, his voice was that of a 70 year old man with a throat condition. He also looked like a 70 year old man. The top of his head, which once sported a white man’s afro, was now bald and the hair on either side was short. He wore sneakers, jeans and a white dress shirt that was not tucked in, presumably to cover his moderate stomach paunch.
Fornatale had quoted James Taylor, who said that the secret of life was enjoying the passage of time.
To that I might add, “and remembering the good times.”
Being 70 may be inevitable, but reveling in it is not much fun.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Destined to join the Occupy Wall Street crowd
A young man traveling on Metro North railroad was wearing black dress shoes with laces as he sat across the aisle from me early one afternoon. I noticed this because he put his feet on the seat cushion facing him. He took out his cell phone and called a friend to ask, “Wanna get some food?”
A female conductor came by to take my ticket and I wanted to ask, sarcastically, whether it would be okay to put my feet on the seat facing me like the young man was doing. But I didn’t. And the conductor said nothing to the young man, who continued his cell phone conversation, speaking loud enough for me to hear, “I’m not home, dude. I was in the city. I had like interviews and shit.”
Now, that’s a young man who will soon be joining the Occupy Wall Street crowd when he doesn’t get hired.
A female conductor came by to take my ticket and I wanted to ask, sarcastically, whether it would be okay to put my feet on the seat facing me like the young man was doing. But I didn’t. And the conductor said nothing to the young man, who continued his cell phone conversation, speaking loud enough for me to hear, “I’m not home, dude. I was in the city. I had like interviews and shit.”
Now, that’s a young man who will soon be joining the Occupy Wall Street crowd when he doesn’t get hired.
Friday, July 8, 2011
In Jeopardy
As time goes by, I fear I may become more out of touch with today’s youth. Most young people have grown up with the wizards of Harry Potter and have graduated to the Twilight vampires. I have neither read these books nor seen the movies. When these cultural powerhouses make their way onto the Jeopardy answer board, as surely they must, I will be totally lost. And by that time, the trivia which currently clutters my brain and sometimes enables me to give the correct Jeopardy question will become so dated as to be irrelevant. As it is, I am already past the demographic that advertisers are seeking to attract. So, when the television shows they sponsor become less relevant to a person with my knowledge and experience, I may be forced to turn off the “tube” (boy, even that reference is out of date) and read a book.
That is, if I can find one that’s still printed on paper.
That is, if I can find one that’s still printed on paper.
Saturday, July 2, 2011
A Burning Issue
I was sipping my coffee as I sat on a bench waiting for my train at an outdoor Metro North station on a bright, sunny, early summer morning, when suddenly I caught a whiff of smoke passing by. I looked to my left and saw a woman smoking a cigarette. I was about to ask her to move down wind when she moved of her own volition.
I’ve been taking the Metro North for about a year now and I can’t recall more than a handful of times when I saw someone smoking on the platform. But this day was the exception to the rule. As my train was pulling into the station, I got up from my seat and headed towards the front car in order to be close to the exit at my stop. As I walked, I passed two more smokers and then started to notice numerous cigarette butts on the platform.
New York City has banned smoking in public places, but as of yet, Westchester County has not followed suit. There are no ashtrays on the platform, so at least they are not encouraging smokers. But for a non-smoker, the smell of burnt tobacco does not mix well with the taste of freshly brewed coffee.
I actually don’t mind if people want to smoke. What I object to is when the exhaust from their burning tobacco invades the space under my nostrils.
They can choose not to smoke.
I can’t choose not to breathe.
I’ve been taking the Metro North for about a year now and I can’t recall more than a handful of times when I saw someone smoking on the platform. But this day was the exception to the rule. As my train was pulling into the station, I got up from my seat and headed towards the front car in order to be close to the exit at my stop. As I walked, I passed two more smokers and then started to notice numerous cigarette butts on the platform.
New York City has banned smoking in public places, but as of yet, Westchester County has not followed suit. There are no ashtrays on the platform, so at least they are not encouraging smokers. But for a non-smoker, the smell of burnt tobacco does not mix well with the taste of freshly brewed coffee.
I actually don’t mind if people want to smoke. What I object to is when the exhaust from their burning tobacco invades the space under my nostrils.
They can choose not to smoke.
I can’t choose not to breathe.
Friday, May 13, 2011
The New Litter
I’ve noticed a trend lately. Now that most plastic bottles have a five cent deposit, there seem to be fewer of them tossed along the roadways. Admittedly, there are few people who would stoop to pick up a discarded bottle. And with the economy in the tank and prices soaring, more people are recycling the bottles to get their nickel back. But there doesn’t seem to be a reduction in the amount of litter. The litter of choice nowadays seems to be losing scratch-off lottery tickets.
If you can find 20 returnable bottles, you can redeem them for a one dollar lottery ticket. Finding 20 bottles may not be easy, but it’s a lot easier than purchasing a winning lottery ticket.
Better yet, put that dollar in the poor box. It’ll make you feel a whole lot richer in the long run.
If you can find 20 returnable bottles, you can redeem them for a one dollar lottery ticket. Finding 20 bottles may not be easy, but it’s a lot easier than purchasing a winning lottery ticket.
Better yet, put that dollar in the poor box. It’ll make you feel a whole lot richer in the long run.
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