The first time I saw him, I thought, no, my eyes are fooling me. What I was seeing as a bald eagle was surely one of those vultures that have been populating central New Jersey in recent years. But this week, I saw him again, and this time there was no mistaking that profile, that wing span, those powerful talons. As I sat in morning rush hour traffic on Route One in Princeton, it WAS a bald eagle that was swooping low overhead. According to a 2004 article in the Princeton Packet (which I found using my usual keen web surfing skills) a nest near Lake Carnegie was, at that time, confirmed. Apparently, the eagle family has decided to stay.
It is a testament to the tenacity of nature to see such a magnificent bird swooping over what is becoming one of the worst commuting spots in central New Jersey. For once, I was grateful for a traffic pace so slow that I could actually take in the scenery around me. On the same morning I was treated to the sight of a crane balancing delicately on the edge of frozen lake ice. It was certainly a more refreshing thing to look at than at the woman in the car next to me who was actually reading a paperback book that she was balancing on her steering wheel. And it kept my eyes off the phalanx of tractor trailers clogging up the highway in front of me.
I don’t advocate sight-seeing behind the wheel as a general rule, we all know what happens when that line of traffic comes to a sudden stop in front of us. It’s just nice to know that sometimes, when you aren’t moving and the clock is slowly counting off how many minutes you are going to be late for work, that overhead, a bald eagle is soaring.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Google forgets to spellcheck
I love to go to the Google search page on a holiday to see how they have dressed up their logo. Today, Valentine's Day, they feature a chocolate covered strawberry in place of the letter "g." But, am I crazy, or is another letter completely missing here? I think it is embarrassing when you spell the name of your own company incorrectly.....
Sunday, February 11, 2007
In Memory of Mario DeCarolis
Last year, I published an article about playing in a swing band in high school. It was a light-hearted trip down memory lane, mostly a reminisecence about playing 1940s music in the middle of the 1970s. In it, I recalled how our director, Mario DeCarolis, would pick up his saxophone and show us all how it was done.
Today, I received word that, at age 81, Mario DeCarolis passed away on February 9. I spent a few minutes re-reading my article, and thinking back to those high school days, when my life was in chaos and playing music with the high school band was the one thing that kept me sane. How I lived for the marching band practices, the football games on Saturdays, and the Monday evening rehearsals for the dance band, The Indigos.
I was a passable musician, able to hold my own playing the deep throated bass clarinet and the baritone saxophone. I also did a stint as the dance band vocalist, trying my best to keep my teenage voice in tune with the band. Through it all, Mr. “D,” as we called him, would instruct, encourage and tolerate my squeaks, squawks and flubbed lyrics.
I look back at the photos, mostly shots of a drenched band in the football stands, it rained 7 out of 9 games my senior year. I also still have the photo of the entire band assembled in front of the falls in Niagara, from the time we went there to march in a parade. And somewhere, in a place where my kids can’t see it and laugh at it again, is my official band photo, better known as the “I Love My Clarinet” shot. In my closet still hangs my band jacket, a little musty, and way too small, and on the shelf overhead is the little black clarinet case that still has a EBHS Bears sticker on it. Souvenirs of my days in the band.
Tonight, I find myself looking over those old things, thinking about those old days, and remembering a teacher who left a lasting influence on my life. While giving me the gift of music, he also gave me the gift of self-confidence and helped me get through some very tough years.
His music has not been silenced, not as long as it still plays for those of us whose life he touched.
Today, I received word that, at age 81, Mario DeCarolis passed away on February 9. I spent a few minutes re-reading my article, and thinking back to those high school days, when my life was in chaos and playing music with the high school band was the one thing that kept me sane. How I lived for the marching band practices, the football games on Saturdays, and the Monday evening rehearsals for the dance band, The Indigos.
I was a passable musician, able to hold my own playing the deep throated bass clarinet and the baritone saxophone. I also did a stint as the dance band vocalist, trying my best to keep my teenage voice in tune with the band. Through it all, Mr. “D,” as we called him, would instruct, encourage and tolerate my squeaks, squawks and flubbed lyrics.
I look back at the photos, mostly shots of a drenched band in the football stands, it rained 7 out of 9 games my senior year. I also still have the photo of the entire band assembled in front of the falls in Niagara, from the time we went there to march in a parade. And somewhere, in a place where my kids can’t see it and laugh at it again, is my official band photo, better known as the “I Love My Clarinet” shot. In my closet still hangs my band jacket, a little musty, and way too small, and on the shelf overhead is the little black clarinet case that still has a EBHS Bears sticker on it. Souvenirs of my days in the band.
Tonight, I find myself looking over those old things, thinking about those old days, and remembering a teacher who left a lasting influence on my life. While giving me the gift of music, he also gave me the gift of self-confidence and helped me get through some very tough years.
His music has not been silenced, not as long as it still plays for those of us whose life he touched.
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