Thursday, June 05, 2014

Bald Eagles In Pittsburgh, So What.

A pair of Bald Eagles had unexpectedly built a nest in Pittsburgh, PA, and produced three eggs... yeah, yeah... so what?  What’s the big deal?

I'd watch the Pittsburgh Bald Eagle Webcam a little in the morning before sunrise, and it was just a bird sitting there on the nest.  Most of the time, she had her head tucked under her wing or something and it was kinda boring.

By then, two eggs had hatched, the third egg was expected to hatch at any time.

I would watch as the male (which is smaller) would fly in with a fish, and both parents fed the hatched chicks. The female would then take off and the male would take his turn sitting on the nest. He was a fussy parent, and he didn’t always seem to know what to do, but I’ve never seen another bird or animal more attentive.

I've watched nature programs about Bald Eagles before, but to watch them in real time is a different experience. Once you started, it was hard to stop. In a chat window, people would talk about staying up watching all night. Bald Eagles haven't nested here for 250 years.  And, their ability to lay three eggs and raise them to the time when they would leave the nest was a testament to our ability to restore the rivers of Pittsburgh to their preindustrial condition.

People from all over the world came to watch and talk about the event.  It was a wonderful journey and I'll always fondly remember the spring that we shared with the Bald Eagles of Pittsburgh.

Tuesday, June 03, 2014

Jazz Is a Beautiful Woman...

Music has been a big part of my life, and for much of it, jazz was the theme playing in the background. But, saying that you like jazz is something akin to saying you like food. There are different kinds of jazz, and not all of it is for everyone. And, like various kinds of food, some kinds of jazz are an acquired taste.
 
I was stationed at Camp Pendleton, California, when I noticed a barracks mate who frequently sat reading magazines while wearing head phones attached to a reel-to-reel tape recorder. One day, I summoned the courage to ask what he was listening to, and as he handed me the stereo head phones, I was instantly transformed. He had been listening to a guitar player named Wes Montgomery. My music world consisted of rock and roll, but this grabbed my barely-out-of-high school senses. I began asking about the music and he introduced me to other jazz artists like Antonio Carlos Jobim, Paul Desmond, and Herbie Mann.
 
I didn't earn much as a PFC in the Marine Corps, but I'd save as much as I could all week, avoiding impulse spending on base, and then on Friday night, I'd purchase a two-way bus ticket up to Anaheim and Disneyland. Because I was always short on funds, I found an all night bowling alley where I could sleep intermittently until Saturday morning, when I'd find a motel room. No one would bother me at the bowling alley, and no one bowled all night, either.
 
Radio music constantly played over the PA system, and every Friday night, when most of the people had left, a tall, thin older black man would change the station to one that played jazz, and he'd begin the long, arduous task of walking the one hundred bowling lanes as he pushed a wide dust mop in front of him. Occasionally, I'd sit up from where I'd hidden myself on the seats near the end of the building, and watch him as he floated from lane to lane, almost dancing to the music. He knew I was there, and could have easily asked me to leave, or even called the police to have me removed, but he never said a word.
 
The music was our connection. I waited one night until he was finished with the lanes, and gathered the courage to approach him to ask about jazz. I can't remember the entire conversation, but I recall that he had said it was when you get into the lives of the musicians -- who they were and what they did, that you started getting into jazz. I followed his advice, and soon I was reading about anyone else who played a style or a song that I liked.
 
After I was discharged, I came home vowing to never purchase another rock and roll record again. I bought the vinyl recordings of Dave Brubeck, George Shearing, and Stan Getz. I'd invite friends over, or I'd go visit them with my new record collection, and they thought I'd gone crazy for turning my back on rock and roll. But then, I met a girl with long red hair that I wanted to impress. So, for our first date, I took her to a small local bar where a handful of jazz musicians were crammed into the corner. She liked the trumpet player, but I liked the sax player, and I teased her all night that the trumpet player was too reserved. Of course, I had no idea what the musicians even looked like, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. When she returned from the ladies room, she was surprised that I'd noticed how she had literally let her hair down. That was the longest relationship I've had with a woman with the exception of my marriage. And through much of it, jazz was playing someplace.
 
Today, I've settled in on something loosely called smooth jazz, which is actually a radio format. But, the light style and frequently familiar pop songs suit me. I can have it playing in the other room as I'm making salads for dinner, or I can listen to it in the car without driving someone to the point of asking me to, "Please change that gawd awful music."
 
I don't know how to describe jazz to someone who doesn't find it enjoyable or entertaining, and especially the kind that contains lots of improvisation. But, I think comedian Sid Caesar summed it up best when he said, "Jazz is a beautiful woman whose older brother is a policeman."