When Christmas trees grow up

Back in February of 1997 I asked Darian to find a good home for my little Norwegian pine that had fulfilled its duty as our holiday centerpiece. She planted it near the edge of the field bounding the south and west flanks (respectively) of Kresge and Porter colleges at UCSC (University of California at Santa Cruz). I didn’t half-think the little thing would survive but the bugger has flourished — so much so that it’s now visible from space! Check it out:

Latitude: 36°59′44.82″N
Longitude: 122° 4′2.26″W

Over the past decade I’ve stopped by the field during the several occasions I’ve found myself back in the area. You know, to pay a visit. The biggest shock came in 2003 after I’d just come back from Japan; I hadn’t seen the tree in years and when I went to where I knew it should be I couldn’t find it. That’s because I was looking for a sapling that had since grown several meters in height.

I’ve heard rumors that UCSC’s unbridled expansion will eventually spill over into the field, gobbling up Darian’s garden and possibly my tree, as well. Hold tight, friend, and if that dark day does come, make them curse it as they struggle to rip your deep roots free of the earth!

Ray Rayner: that’s all folks!

This week I’ve turned my attention back to First Forty, a project that’s been on ice since last September. I picked up right where I’d left off, with my short encapsulation on the day’s events from February 22, 1978: namely, that Ray Rayner had revealed the winner of the jelly belly count and… well, that’s about it.

Now, I haven’t thought about Ray in years, but he was an important figure in my life during the 5th and 6th (and possibly 7th) grades, more than I knew at the time. I’d like to take a minute here to remember him.

Seeing Ray’s name again prompted me to do a little sleuthing around the Web, and it wasn’t long before I turned up all sorts of good stuff.

After we moved back to Chicago (Warrenville) in the fall of 1977, I spent most weekday mornings from 7 – 8 in front of the tube with Ray Rayner and Friends on WGN. (I imagine this went on for about two years — at which time I entered junior high and had to leave the house earlier to catch the bus.) Come to think of it now, I was usually up before 7 because I remember watching Orion Samuelson (The Big “O”!) deliver the daily farm report: a mix of agricultural news, weather, the price of pork belly futures and all that jazz. This is what Midwestern kids (used to) grow up with.

For me, Ray was the undisputed king of morning television. (I know now that he’d done a lot of television work in Chicago prior to my time, but Ray Rayner and Friends is how I first came to know him.) Donning a funky jumpsuit — the orange one with the tree-branch appliqués being my favorite — covered in “to do” notes in the pre-Post It era, Ray would wing his way through an hour of classic cartoons; news, weather, traffic, and sports; visits with Dr. Lester Fisher from the Lincoln Park Zoo; disastrous attempts to reproduce the featured arts-and-crafts project; friendly chat sessions with Cuddly Duddley (an over-sized spaniel puppet); and tense “guest appearances” by Chelveston the duck (“Chelvy”), whom would often terrorize Ray, snapping at and chasing him around the studio. Good stuff.

The (aforementioned) jelly-bean count was a contest Ray held annually. He’d fill a jar with jelly beans and have viewers try to guess the amount, all entries to be sent to the station by post-card. One year I brought a scientific approach to the task: I found a jar of approximate size and counted the number of jelly beans required to make a single “layer”; then, multiplying the number of layers I estimated it would take to reach the top of the jar, I arrived at my answer. I don’t think I was even close. So much for science.

(One interesting association I have with Ray is watching his show with nobody else around. Surely this could not have been the case, as other people in the house would have been up and moving about between the hours of 7 and 8. It may be that Dad was already out the door by 7 while Mom tended to sleep in. [I don't recall seeing her most mornings — which was fine, since I loved getting up early and taking care of my own breakfast and lunch, and having the house to myself.] Todd, I think, usually stayed upstairs after he’d got up. I don’t remember him being there with me in front of the television with a bowl of cereal, and I don’t recall ever talking to Todd about Ray. In fact, I don’t think I spoke to anybody about him. It may be that I didn’t want to share Ray. He was like a favorite uncle who never talked down to you, and you got the feeling that there wasn’t anything he’d rather do than slowly welcome in the day together.)

Although there aren’t many video clips of Ray on the Net (copyright being the main obstacle — which has also prevented any DVDs of Ray from being released) I hit the jackpot when I came across FuzzyMemories.tv, a site dedicated to “Classic Chicago Television”. Their “Screening Room” section holds a number of clips from Ray Rayner and Friends, including the last episode that ever aired. I never saw that one — don’t even remember when I stopped watching Ray or hearing that his show was going off the air. So, finding these clips was a real treat. When Yumi went out to dinner with her girlfriends the other night I cozied up to the computer with a glass of wine and teleported back to 1981 (sans the wine), and found myself plunked down on the floor in front of our living room TV.

It’s amazing how the slightest trigger can tap into memories and sensations the brain has long-since filed away and forgotten. I mean, it’s all there. I’m really starting to believe that with the right prompt it should be possible to call-up nearly anything you’ve experienced and registered. I’m finding this especially true with my journals. Stuff I’ve had no need to recall comes back with amazing clarity after reading a few sentences which, in turn, lay a path to where those memories have been stored. But I digress. What I want to say is that hearing Ray’s voice again brings me right back to that place and time, and the warm tingles work their way up my spine to the base of my skull, caressing the back of my head. Watching Ray takes me to my safe place, my bubble.

Even so, it was a little uncomfortable watching some of the clips from Ray’s last show. It’s obvious that he’s not entirely comfortable himself — trying to keep it together but at times letting the heightened emotional impact of the event bleed through. It always irks me that the shows which often get released or otherwise memorialized are the “final” or “20th-anniversary” specials etc., when nothing is as it should be. Most of the time all you really want to see is a run-0f-the-mill, everyday episode. Those are the ones you remember. Thank god there are a few other clips of Ray Rayner and Friends on Fuzzy Memories from the late 70s, when nothing momentous was coming down the pike (and from the time when I would have been watching).

Observations from the here-and-now (and a few other things I’d forgot):

Pacing. Talk about s-l-o-w! Wow. How quickly we forget how our viewing sensibilities have been drastically reconfigured in only a few decades. These days I often find myself watching Turner Classics when I want to relax if only because of the pacing. Remember when cuts between scenes lasted longer than a few seconds? Watching these old clips now of Ray’s show, with it’s lack of background music and gratuitous graphic overlays, is a breath of fresh air.

Budget. Holy cow, Ray Rayner and Friends looks like many public access shows did on cable in the late 80s. And this was WGN — the country’s first “super station”. But you know what? We never cared.

Intelligence. I’d forgot how Ray never “dumbed down” his show, much in the same way that Rocky & Bullwinkle never shied away from biting wit and cutting sarcasm. Ray talked to you like one of his buddies or members the studio crew (whom he collectively referred to as “Chauncey”). The man was funny. Plus, he’d do things like pull gems from the songbook of pop and jazz standards and proceed to murder them on-air, accompanied off-camera by Don Orlando on the Wurlitzer. I love it.

Ray Rayner and Friends also included news, traffic, weather, and sports. In hindsight, I suppose the producers threw these in to add a little “parent appeal”, but why shouldn’t kids like to be clued in as to what was going on, as well? Mom and Dad watched the evening news; I got mine in the morning. (Ray’s traffic updates were always read over the same stock footage of cars stuck in traffic. Classic.) I’d also forgot how Ray’s chalkboard had all the latest college and professional sports scores off to one side. As Merri Dee would read the news and weather I’d try and figure out what teams all the different abbreviations stood for.

And Ray also delighted in trivia, asking questions (primarily to his crew, pulled from a book he kept on hand entitled Super Trivia) that no kid would rightly know the answers to, but you always learned something new and never felt belittled in the process. Take Ray’s last show, for instance. Here are a few of the questions he threw out as part of his “quiz” (c’mon Dad, I know you can do this):

1. What was the real name of The Saint?

Which band or band leader is each of the following singers associated with?

2. Mildred Bailey

3. Rosemary Clooney

4. Dorothy Collins

5. Bing Crosby

6. Doris Day

7. Mike Douglas

8. Bob Eberly

9. Art Carney (yes, he was a vocalist at one time)

10. Fred Astaire

(I didn’t get any of the answers, even now. Wrong generation. But you really need to watch the video clip to see how Ray’s enthusiasm for the material sucks you right in, no matter how obscure. It’s also interesting to note how Ray seems the most relaxed during that final show while reading his trivia questions — it provides a distraction even as the set is being struck around him.)

One last note: when I see and hear Frazier Thomas again I immediately think of my Aunt Jean. There’s just something so “Chicago” about them both

It’s obvious to me now that so much of what Ray did on his show was for himself: all the inside jokes, cultural references, and skylarking with the crew. But you could tell that he was really enjoying himself, and that enthusiasm came right across the airwaves to us, the audience. And rather than feel like an outsider because you didn’t “get” everything Ray said or talked about, his friendly demeanor and easy manner had the opposite effect: because he could just be himself, you felt respected. He wasn’t putting on an act just because there was a kid in the room. And I appreciated that. True, I didn’t get a lot of Ray’s humor, but I knew I would, eventually. I was just happy to be treated as an equal — even if Ray did advise me to take extra precaution on cold days and bundle up before heading off to school

From the Web I learned that Ray left Chicago and did some work in Albuquerque for a while before retiring from television. He passed away on January 21, 2004 in Fort Myers, Florida.

Thanks for everything, Ray. There’ll never be another quite like you.

(link: Fuzzy Memories “Classic Chicago Television)
(link: Ray Rayner on Wikipedia)
(link: Ray Rayner obit)
(link: Ray Rayner on tvparty.com)

(answers to quiz: 1. Simon Templar 2. Mildred Bailey – Paul Whiteman & Red Norvo 3. Rosemary Clooney – Tony Pastor 4. Dorothy Collins – Raymond Scott 5. Bing Crosby – Paul Whiteman 6. Doris Day – Les Brown & Bob Crosby 7. Mike Douglas – Kay Kyser 8. Bob Eberly – Jimmy Dorsey 9. Art Carney – Horace Heidt 10. Fred Astaire – Leo Reisman)

Aloha, Aunty Genoa and Uncle Ray

This week Hawai’i lost two musical giants and beloved kupuna: Aunty Genoa Keawe (Kay-ah-vey) and Uncle Ray Kane (Kah-nay). Quite a blow. Yumi, Chie, and I were lucky enough to see Aunty Genoa sing and play in 2005 at the Honolulu Festival — though she continued to perform long after despite failing health. (Even in her mid-80s, Aunty could hold her trademark falsetto longer than singers a quarter of her age! Check out her signature song “Alika” to see what I mean.) She was quite a performer, with a smile that could make anybody feel good inside. I wasn’t familiar with Aunty Genoa until after moving to Hawai’i but was always glad to see and hear her, whether in concert or on the television. It’s just really sad knowing she’s not with us anymore.

Ray and I, however, go back a bit further. I first became aware of Ray Kane in 1995 when James Treat got hold of and showed the documentary Ki Ho’alu: That’s Slack Key Guitar to our Native American Studies class. I was immediately smitten by Ray’s charm and warmth, and shortly thereafter went out and purchased his CD Punahele. (Dancing Cat Records, a major promoter of slack key music, is based in Santa Cruz.)

The film was only available as a 16mm print at that time so the nearest I could come to it was a “how to” slack key guitar video that Ray had out. (I wish I had it with me now, but the tape is at Dad’s house with my other stuff.) I still remember when the package arrived: everything was hand-written, even a note tucked inside thanking me for the purchase and wishing me warmest aloha. And though I didn’t get very far with the actual guitar playing, I watched that tape many times just to hear Uncle Ray “talk story”. He reminded me so much of my grandfather and I just liked the sound of his voice in the room.

Being that Santa Cruz is a regular stopover on the Hawaiian music circuit, I had an opportunity to see Ray at UC Santa Cruz during a performance of slack key masters that included Keola Beamer, Led Kaapana, and George Kahumoku, Jr. It’s amazing that Ray was even able to travel back then due to lingering health problems, so I feel honored to have seen him perform live. What a guy, though. Do you know he used to trade fish he’d caught as a kid for guitar lessons? They don’t make them like that anymore, that’s for sure.

Aunty Genoa and Uncle Ray, aloha and mahalo nui loa to you both.

(Lee Cataluna on Aunty Genoa)
(Aunty Genoa Keawe’s Wikipedia page — I contributed the photo )
(Aunty Genoa obit — with photos, video and audio clips)
(Ray Kane obit)
(Ray Kane bio on Dancing Cat Records’ site)
(Ki Ho’alu: That’s Slack Key Guitar)

Pack your grip / takin’ you on a trip!

For the past couple of weeks I haven’t been able to stop listening to Heatwave’s “The Groove Line” (extended version). It’s a kick-ass jam, plain and simple. I “re-discovered” the song while listening to one of Marie’s Phat Trax compilation CDs and haven’t been able to get it out of my head since. (Not a bad thing, by the way.)

At first I couldn’t figure out why the song resonated so strongly, then I got the reference: in the finale episode of Freaks & Geeks, “Groove Line” is spinning on the turntable when it’s Nick’s turn in the dance contest. (Remember I’d watched the entire series over winter break.) This thread of the storyline works particularly well, I think, as Nick, rejected by his father and ex-girlfriend, turns his back on rock ‘n roll and finds release and acceptance in the discotheque (previously anathema to his group of close friends). Though it’s obvious Nick is in denial, big time, there’s a redemptive quality to the act of surrendering to something once despised, allowing oneself a certain vulnerability in exchange for the bliss of forgiveness.

That’s a bit over the top, I know. But Nick’s dance scene in the club (which cuts to the Dungeons & Dragons game in progress at Sam’s house) has a very fin de siècle feel to it, tying right in to the finale’s overall “end-of-an-era” tone: time to let go of past labels, conceptions, and associations; new days and possibilities lie before us. I guess that’s what I get when I listen to “Groove Line”. The song just radiates optimism.

Leave your worries behind…

Hawaii loves a local boy

Hawaii held its Democratic caucus last night and news reports site a turnout of over 37,000 participants (compared to 4,000 and 1,200 for the previous two caucuses, respectively). So many showed up that voters were forced to indicate their candidate of choice on blank slips of paper — first writing down all names, then crossing out those that did not make the cut. Senator Dan Inouye says he can’t recall people getting this excited about a political matter since the 1959 referendum on statehood.

(Obama — who went to high school not far from where we live — won handily.)

Leviathans in love

Before I forget, I want to mention the short trip Yumi and I recently took to Maui with Yumi’s mother. (It was my first time to visit one of the outer islands in the four years that I’ve lived here, if you can believe that.) I wasn’t expecting much — I mean, Hawaii is Hawaii, right? — but a short 25-minute plane ride away and it really did feel like we were off on vacation. Or at the very least, off O’ahu.

The weather was fantastic and Haleakala even more spectacular. But what I want to comment upon is the crazy amount of whales we saw there. The humpbacks have returned in droves to their winter mating grounds and, by all appearances, are having a ball. I didn’t realize that whale watching could be done — satisfyingly so, at that — from the beach! Even while driving (though I don’t advised it) you can see whales breaching, slapping, and leaping right out of the ocean. I’ve never seen anything like it.

The topper came when Yumi and I went snorkeling maybe 75-100 meters off the Kaanapali coast. (The water is so clear and scenery so inviting that you find yourself pretty far offshore before you know it.) Yumi’s mother chose to stay on the beach but I had both room keys/cards in my suit. I was thinking she might want to go back to the room so Yumi and I swam in to shore to give her one of the cards. As we pulled ourselves out of the surf several enthusiastic onlookers dashed over to ask about the whale.

“What?”

“Look.” They pointed out to sea.

We turned and caught sight of — I kid you not — a massive whale gracefully arching back down into the water right about where we must have been swimming. Yumi’s mother said it looked like the whale was right on top of us.

I couldn’t believe it. After an entire day of mounting giddiness brought on by glimpses of whales cavorting on the horizon, something that large swims right by us and we don’t even notice? How the hell did that happen? We saw sea turtles, sure, but no whale. I was brimming with excitement and frustration at the same time.

The next day we went swimming again but were not able to recreate our near-encounter. (No matter: the snorkeling alone is out of this world.) What we did discover, however, is that you can actually hear whales singing, popping, laughing, and communicating with each other! Yumi picked up on this first as she wasn’t using a snorkel. (I couldn’t hear much as the sound of my own breathing blocked most external sound.) But sure enough, when I held my breath under water, the eerie yet playful sonic traffic of whale pods scattered offshore was clearly discernible. I can’t even begin to describe how cool it was to eavesdrop on this other world where we were but distant witnesses.

I’m now determined to return to Maui each and every winter and bob on the surface until that whale glides past me once more.

Unless I get eaten by a shark first

(photos from the trip)

Battle gratitude

You have to admire (and, at times, tremble before) the depth and complexity of reciprocal thanking in Japanese culture.

Sometime last year I asked a favor of Yumi’s mixi friend Daijiro. (They found each other on the Japanese social-networking site through happenstance, each having the same last name.) He’s an artist by trade and I’ve always enjoyed the work he posts, so I asked if he wouldn’t mind doing a couple of quick logo mock-ups for me. Daijiro was more than happy — downright enthusiastic is more like it — to get on board and pretty soon I had a whole slew of graphics flooding my in-box.

I wanted to send Daijiro a thank-you gift but had a hell of a time trying to buy a gift certificate from the U.S. that could be redeemed in Japan. I thought he might appreciate some music from the U.S. iTunes store (since he’s a musician and avid music lover, not to mention that songs available for purchase through iTunes are different depending on where you live). After a bit of sniffing around I discovered how to circumvent the system, and soon had an iTunes gift card in the mail to Japan.

A few days passed, we went to Maui with Yumi’s mom, and upon our return Yumi had this super sweet manga-of-appreciation awaiting in her email. How cool is that? The only thing now is I have to consider how far I’m willing to carry out this “battle gratitude”, a veritable tit-for-tat of indebtedness. But who am I kidding? I’m culturally outgunned and don’t stand a chance.

Meet-up in Madison

I just received this photo of Rama and Dad, taken when they met up for the first time in what — 15, 20 years? Rama and his wife Susan made the stop in Madison on their way down to Chicago (they live in Minneapolis). The reunion came about after I put the two of them in touch — but only after Grant tipped me off that he’d found Rama’s contact info on classmates.com. Long story short: it was a good visit. Dad asked me to have Rama forward the photo because he thought I’d like it. Correct-a-mundo! (photo link)

Adrian Cardoso Crain

I just found out this morning that Chad and Denise became parents on December 31st, and to prove it, here’s Adrian Cardoso Crain! I’m so happy for the two of them, but was surprised (and a little ashamed at myself) to learn that Denise had even been pregnant. (!) Guess it has been a while since we last spoke… In any case, this is great news. Here’s one little boy who has a lot to look forward to with Chad and Denise for parents, don’t you think?

Ride down memory lane

Winter break is always good for getting to those odd little projects that niggle quietly in the dark corners of your mind during busier times. One thing I’ve been wanting to do for a while now is create a photo-set showing all the bikes that I recall ever owning. Why? Aw, who knows. And who cares! But it was fun, let me tell you. I was able to dig up pictures of the majority of bikes that have come into my life over the years — though I had to make do with a few substitutes from the Web. That’s not to say I won’t unearth photographic evidence in the future, but for right now this is what I’ve got. (link)