Barb fell in love in an instant. Before she crushed on Kevin Costner, before she swooned for Bradley Cooper, hell–before she married me, there was Neil.  Neil Leslie Diamond: Grammy Award winner, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Class of 2011, Kennedy Center Honoree, movie star actor, and writer and performer of the song Sweet Caroline, which yesterday was added to the U.S. Library of Congress National Recording Registry.

Barb has been a fan (Diamondite? Neil Head?) since the early days, the Neil-dressed-in-black days. Neil was hip then, a long-haired singer-songwriter in the age of long-haired singer-songwriters. He escaped Tin Pan Alley to record his own work, and to make a life and living on the road. Did Barb first hear him on a car’s dismal AM radio? Or with slightly better sound on a friend’s stereo? However she first came across it, she connected. She was there for his high school tours in the 1960s. She was there for the first of the big arena tours in the early ’70s. And then she brought me in…

My first Neil Diamond experience was in 1977 at Alpine Valley in Wisconsin. This was the Jonathan Livingston Seagull Tour, with Diamond’s Grammy-winning score accompanied by video’s of a soaring seagull in flight.  I could have used that bird to give me a ride home since the next morning I had six A.M. surgical rounds at Illinois Masonic Hospital on the south side of Chicago. I’m sure I hummed Brother Love through most of my procedures that day.

How many ND concerts have Barb and I enjoyed together since that first one? We have seen him indoors and outdoors. We cheered on the Headed for the Future tour. There was the Jazz Singer tour which brought in droves of blue-haired 70-year-old women who had fallen in love with Almost Cantor Jess Robin. We swooned at the poignancy of Brooklyn Roads and the schmaltz of Heartlight. We were always sure of glittering jackets on Neil, King Errisson on percussion, and Linda Press channeling Barbra Streisand on You Don’t Send Me Flowers. And we remembered to stand for Forever in Blue Jeans. Neil seemed amazed every time the crowd did that–even though he had asked us to!

The coup de grâce? The road trip to Montreal a month before Michael and Becca’s wedding, with third-row center seats and special NEIL DIAMOND tee shirts. I still wear mine, Barb seems embarrassed to wear her’s.

We never missed a tour, because we never knew when it would be Neil’s last. The touring career ended last year with the diagnosis of Parkinson’s Disease. But Sweet Caroline still rings out at every ball game, every Bar Mitzvah, everywhere that people come to congregate and have a good time. Congratulations to Neil, and thanks to the Library of Congress for recognizing the masterwork of a masterworker.

So Good! So Good! So Good!

Did you miss yesterday’s post?  Here it is! May it bring you joy!

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Yesterday my iPhone decided to take control of Turn-Back-Thursday by putting my playlist into New York City, 2010. Broadway to be precise. Show tunes from that year replaced the Stones, Bruce, and The Who as the soundtrack of my late morning workout.

But those shows had a definite connection to rock’n’roll. First came the song “Rise Above.”  Remember it? I doubt that you do. It was one of the songs written by my buddies Bono and The Edge for the musical SPIDER-MAN-Turn Off the Dark. That show was going to be the “swingiest” on Broadway. Barb and I had tickets for October of 2010…but it was not to be.

The show had problem after problem, financial and technical. The official opening kept getting pushed back and back and back, and the performance we were scheduled to see was one of the many cancellations. We wound up seeing “Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown” instead. It came highly recommended, had a great cast (Sherie Rene Scott, Patti LuPone, Brian Stokes Mitchell, and Laura Benanti,) and was thoroughly awful.

Barb and I never saw SPIDER-MAN, though Laury, who at the time was teaching in New York City, saw the show several times with her students. The only remnant I have is “Rise Above,” jostling for a place on the iPhone with some 100 real U2 songs.

When my iPhone was done with Spidey, it swung into a series of songs from a rocking Broadway show that we DID see in 2010, American Idiot. Based mostly on Green Day’s album of the same name, and featuring the title track,  plus “Boulevard of Broken Dreams,” “21 Guns,” “Holiday,” and many more, the show was bright, loud and louder. The music director funneling the Green Day material into the theater was Tom Kitt, who at the time was also busy at the time winning heaps of awards for Next to Normal.

On occasion, Green Day frontman Billie Joe Armstrong goosed the Idiot box office by performing in the role of St. Jimmy, though Barb and I were not fortunate enough to see one of those shows.  Maybe that’s where The Boss got the idea for Springsteen on Broadway, another show we passed on seeing.

After Idiot my playlist went back to its regularly scheduled selection of Steely Dan, Fleetwood Mac, and the Moody Blues. No more show biz memories for the day.

In other news, my thoughts go out to Alex Trebek. As my family knows, pancreatic cancer is a terrible disease. I am sure Alex will have the most advanced of medical care and will fight with all he has. For the record, my application to become Jeopardy! host was made a while ago when the rumor was that Mr. Trebek would be retiring. I would hate to take over because of his illness, but SONY, I am still available. Just give me a buzz.

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Holiday Season is Viewing Season too, and Barb and I have used the extra free time to watch a pair of movies. We saw The Green Book at the theater as part of dinner and a movie night with friends, and Mudbound at home on the evening of Christmas Day after sending the family packing and cleaning the house. The first has been getting great word of mouth and we actively sought it out, the second is a less recognized though highly acclaimed Netflix-produced film from last year that we stumbled across. They are both moving stories of race and hate and love.

The Green Book is the lighter of the two films. It’s a buddy film, it’s a road film, it’s a film of racial divide, as a white bouncer from New York drives and in other ways assists a black pianist on a barnstorming tour through white establishments from Ohio to the Deep South in 1962. A little Driving Miss Daisy, a little It’s a Wonderful Life, a little Goodfellas, and a whole lot more.

Don Shirley, the musician played by Mahershala Ali, has the education, the talent, and the diction of the upper classes, but is just an excluded Negro in the South. His private torments extend beyond race. Viggo Mortenson is Tony Lip, the temporary driver, street smart and tough, but with an expansive heart and a commitment to get Shirley to every show, no matter the circumstances.

Mortenson has done road pictures before, and no matter how desperate the situation here, nothing compares to the absolute bleakness of 2009’s The Road. But in both pictures, we learn of the power of love.

Love is also the last redemption in the much starker, more despairing movie, Mudbound. The setting is once again the racial divide of the South, this time in the World War II 40’s. A black family and a white family tied together by the land they farm, struggle against each other, the culture that makes them enemies, and nature that plagues them with unyielding fields and never-ending rains. Any act of friendship or kindness between black and white is viewed with suspicion, every action has the potential of being the lit fuse that sets off the powder keg. After the horrible, the unspeakable does occur, one character acts to destroy hate, another finds he must re-create himself “not for war. But for love.”

These are not Christmas movies. But isn’t that final message what we need the season to be about?

Best Comment from Friday’s Post:  THANKS–A BREATHE OF FRESH AIR–John Markay

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Dear Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences:

I hear the Oscar Awards are coming up pretty soon. And I hear you are having trouble getting yourselves a host for the broadcast. The Kevin Hart thing didn’t work out too well. Neither Johny Carson nor Bob Hope is around to bail you out. Well, February is a good month for me to travel, and L.A. is sure warmer than Chicago that time of year, so here I am, waiting for your call.

This isn’t the first high profile job I have applied for. For the sake of the country, I had volunteered to be a Trump Cabinet Secretary (little did I know how over-qualified I was-and how lucky I was to be rejected.) I have volunteered to replace Alex Trebek when he reaches his Final Jeopardy (so far all I have heard from Alex is “Wrong Again Les.”)

But this is different! I am ready! I am prepared! So Oscar Gods here is my application.

TEN REASONS I SHOULD BE THE OSCAR HOST

1. I have never told a gay joke. In fact, some would say I have never told a joke. Barb did once accuse me of having no sense of humor.
2. I have never given anyone the wrong envelope unless you count that Valentine I gave to the wrong Debbie back in 7th grade.
3. I have a friend who is a film critic (of course he tells me why every movie I like is crap.)
4. I thought it was a great idea to have a “Most Popular Movie” Oscar category.
5. I bought a new tux for my kids’ weddings. I need an excuse to give it a 3rd wearing.
6. I promised Barb that someday I would introduce her to Bradley Cooper.
7. I promise not to drink, snort, or inject my way through the 3 to 4 hours the ordeal takes.
8. I thought David Letterman’s Uma/Oprah bit was hilarious.
9. I have always been a fan of Sacheen Littlefeather.
10. After I do the Oscars maybe I can get a gig on Dancing with the Stars.

So give me a break,  guys. I doubt hosting the Oscars can be any harder than my day job!

Our most recent post: Mrs. Maisel Still Rocks! 

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It has been a year since I offered all of you the Christmas present of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. And thank you Amazon Prime for bringing us this year’s gift of Season 2. The story of the early 60’s Midge Maisel, struggling to survive as a mother, ex-wife, and stand-up comedian is back with 10 streaming episodes.

Barb and I started watching the new season early this week and have only watched the first three episodes. but I have to stop and write, now! The first two episodes were a little slow and philosophical, but with Episode 3, the writer, director, and especially the amazing Rachel Brosnahan as Midge have all hit their very hilarious stride.

The episode, titled The Punishment Room, makes me rethink my position that Veep is the most side-splitting show on television. This episode matches Julia Louis-Dreyfuss and company in laughs and F-bombs from unexpected directions.

The episode includes (you could label this a spoiler alert, but there is no way to spoil this episode):

• A wonderful opening set piece in the apartment Midge and her kids share with her parents. It’s better choreographed than some Broadway shows I have endured. And the end of the scene is pure Home Alone.
• A spontaneous female conscience raising seminar with inadvertant consequences.
• Negotiations (not exactly spiritual) about a wedding reception between our Jewish heroine Midge and a rather dour priest and nun, while a young Catholic student weeps in the background. If you have watched even one episode of the series before, you know who will win this battle of fast-talking.
• A stunningly tasteless, unrequested and unwanted bit of stand-up by Midge at a public reception. It is so cringeworthy that those of us watching at home cannot help but laugh through our horror. After all, the shotgun Midg mentions isn’t pointed at us!

Barb and I can’t wait to find out what will happen next. If you aren’t already, I recommend you become a fan of Midge Maisel. Her bootleg albums are going to be big sellers!

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With the election and all of its rhetoric heating up, I know I need to take a step back and cool off.

We are a nation of pop culture. There are symphonies, but I don’t know many people who go to them. There are lectures on serious subjects, but I don’t know many people who go to those either. But everyone I know goes to movies or has their favorite guilty television pleasure. That’s the vernacular we all speak.

That makes movie quotes a societal shorthand. A word or a short phrase can convey as much meaning as a Shakespearian soliloquy. But when the same line gets used over and over again, I think it gets tiring and I start to feel the speaker or writer or commentator is just getting lazy. Here are 10 movie quotes that I could gladly bid hasta la vista, baby.

You do know what movie each of these if from, don’t you?

TEN MOVIE LINES I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF

1. Show me the money.
2. Here’s Johny!
3. I’ll have what she’s having.
4. They’re here!
5. Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings.
6. There’s no crying in baseball.
7. I see dead people.
8. I feel the need…for speed.
9. I’m king of the world!
10. I’ll be back.

And our Bonus Number Eleven: E-LEV-EN

What quotes would you like to see gone for good?

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