A TRIBUTE TO BOB BROZMAN – WORLD MUSIC – GUITARIST OF THE YEAR

Many of us spent a week or two at Columbia Univ. at International guitar seminars. Bob Brozman and Woody Mann were the co-founders of this prestigious seminar that started off the millennium. The students that attended were promised they would be able to add additional skills to their musical toolbox. With all the new found poly-rhythms….Bob said he wanted us to “walk with a funkier groove”. Students learned more in one week than the they had in the past decade. As a musician and instructor Bob was a musical and sensory overload. The seminars lasted a few years and Bob and Woody taught perhaps 500 students both in the U.S and abroad. Many of these students have gone on to play professionally and semi professionally. We were sent out from the Jefferson Hall of Journalism after our last concert with an understanding. “Hold fast to the spirit of youth, and let the years do what they may!” Bob left us an appreciation for risk and courage, he exhorted to his students, “stand tall and be proud!”
Mr. Brozman went out of his way to play a small music festival in my community. The following week he was playing the Lincoln Center. He had little regard and even contempt for pop stardom. It was a much larger world out there..and musically he wanted to comprehend as much as he could. He had strongly held politcal opinions and since he had earned his “junior philosophers badge” when he turned 50. He made an incredibly intelligent emissary for the U.S. In his travels that often lasted 6 or 7 months abroad each year.

While staying at my house he perused my library and read one of my books…. in an afternoon. This book had taken me a week or two to read. We discussed it in detail and I realized he had fully grasped the entirety of this book. He acknowledged that he seemed to have the capacity to learn and speed read with rather great proficiency.
Bob also left major record labels behind. He once mentioned that selling a million CD’s on a major label is the equivalent to selling 10,000 CD’s on his private label. We were discussing entrepreneurship and he then stated that he has between 20 and 30 CD’s and none of them have sold less than that 10,000 mark. That equates to 20 or 30 gold records, much to his credit.
I was playing music in a small cafe, in a small town, in a remote region of Italy. It was a CD release party and I was the opening act. The main musician came up to me afterwards and said “you sound a bit like Bob Brozman”. Unbeknownst to me, Bob had been there the week before.
Bob spread his music far and wide, he had little regard to the U.S. Market. I phoned Bob when I got home and told him of my musical coincidence in far off Italy. I told him that when I arrived in this community they were “walking with a funkier groove”.

Bob Brozman – Born: March 8, 1954, New York City Died: April 24, 2013,

Bill Keitel
billkeitel@areavoices.com

Grandfather Mac was in the wholesale lumber business, he traveled the midwest selling lumber to lumberyards. He spent his life, earning his living, by the board foot. In his mid life they lived in a small mansion that they could not afford. My grandmother confided in me one day and told me that Grampa bought the grandiose home, not specifically for the architecture but because of the beautiful trees that that were on the grounds and in the yard, she was completely serious. Grama was also a bit annoyed when she told me this, because they had to rent out the carriage house to a group of nursing students to help make the house payments. She had wished she had taken a door knob as a souvenir from the home when they left it, the knobs were purportedly sterling silver. I only knew my grandparents living in very humble means.

In my grand fathers later years he came to ponder and realize how much timber he had marketed over his lifetime. He knew his life was coming to an end and he asked that people not buy flowers for his funeral. He spent his life on the prairie and was keenly aware of benefits of having a landscape with trees.

Instead of flowers he asked that if people wanted to make a gesture to his time spent on this earth, to plant a tree. He acknowledged that it was a simple gesture but it would be of benefit to others in years to come.

Over the years I have taken his request to heart and have purposefully involved myself with planting trees, growing trees,appreciating trees and understanding their many benefits. I was influenced by an author and illustrator Eric Sloane called A Reverence for Wood. The book is about colonial times and their uses of wood for tools and building materials. Each species of tree was found to have very specific purposes. Today we know that hickory makes fine hammer handles. It handles the percussive shock of impacts better than many other types of wood. We know that willow is easily bent, Basswood is clean and clear, Oak is strong and is the framework of humanity, Spruce and maple are good for musical instruments, White pine, Spruce, Cedar, Tulip Poplar, mahogany and black walnut all conjure images for their specific uses.

Green Ash-Arborvitae-Balsam Fir

Today, all the talk is of the recent ice storm. Nature has pruned trees in our community. Perhaps 90 % of all the trees have sustained some damage. The hardest hit species seems to be the Hackberry trees, because of their susceptibility to crotch rot and the soft maple trees fail when burdened with any weight. The Arborvitae have been similarly hit hard because of their propensity to hold the weight of the ice load, as flexible as they are, many have significant damage. The Paper Birch trees in town are decorative. They branch off the trunk at 20 to 25 degree angles which is a very poor angle for strength. They have suffered mightily. The ash is perhaps the most popular tree in Wgtn. (not to be confused with Poplar!) It too has taken a heavy toll. The Ash trees in Wgtn. were in the midst of budding out and that may well have caused them to also hold more ice and hence…more weight load. Ash trees seldom bend, they are less flexible and though they have considerable strength, when that limit is exceeded, they also crack and fail.

Bur Oak- Quercus Macrocarpa @ 28 years

I’ve taken a cursory survey of our yard and some additional land that we own. I’ve found that we have 62 trees and 54 assorted shrubs. My mature deciduous trees all have serious damage from broken limbs. Recently pruned fruit trees show no damage, the confers have minor damage in which they will easily recover. The shrubs should also bear the abuse.

Twenty nine years ago I planted an acorn. This acorn came from a burr oak tree. We have had the good fortune to watch it grow into a beautiful tree that is a focal point in our backyard. It is approx. 20 inches in diameter and is about 30 ft tall and with an umbrella that is perhaps 26 to 30 feet in diameter.

The shade that it provides in the summer time is invaluable. Oak trees have branches and leaves that provide a diffuse shade, not dense shade. They tend to branch out at stronger angles (55 to 90 degrees). In the dead heat of the summer the shade of an oak tree is inviting. Temperatures underneath it always seems tolerable. There is never an unpleasant time to be had under an oak tree.

The bur oak tree is native to the prairie. The oak tree is not messy, lets dispel that notion. As long as you have a robust squirrel population we have found that we have never had to pick up an acorn. The acorn is a food source and the shells are completely chewed up. The base of our oak tree is as clean as any other place in our yard, do not confuse acorns with walnuts.

Today there is not a tree left undamaged in our yard….excepting the burr oak tree. It is very heavy laden with a layer of ice and snow. The snow beneath it is perfectly void of any branches or twigs, every square meter throughout the city is littered with twigs and branches. Not below the mighty oaks.

We have planted oak trees at other properties and have found that in all instances that there was little to no damage on these trees. The oak tree is also slow to bud out and this is an advantage when winter storms decide to reappear.

Oak trees create high quality shade which in return may well enhance real estate values

Oak trees create valuable wood, even as a non commercially grown tree.

I suggest that Oak trees do grow at a relatively fast pace contrary to commonly held beliefs. This notion gets distorted because people confuse “old trees” with “slow growing”. Oak trees are “long lived” trees and people equate living long…with slow growing. Our oak tree of 28 years from an acorn is quite acceptable, it has been casting functional shade for the past 15 years.

Our community will spend weeks if not months cleaning and trimming our existing trees. When this task is complete we will surely consider a replanting program. We have arrived at a time that is almost unprecedented and we have an opportunity. Will we plant the trees that are quick, cheap and fast growing? Or we should consider creating a legacy. Perhaps we should consider intentionally planting something that is bigger than ourselves, planting something that we can share with our grand children and ensuing generations.

Oak trees are more expensive for the city to plant. In a time of fiscal constraints, it seems dubious to ask the city to bear the expense of people thinking about a future generation and their quality of life.

Perhaps we could involve the local citizenry and encourage people to plant an oak tree as a memorial for a friend, child or a grandparent?

If there were spots within our city parks and walk ways that could use a new tree, would you consider a memorial for your friend or loved one? What if there were locations in our town that would benefit from a stately oak tree?

Who planted these trees and why were they planted? Your grandchildren might ask this question.

Do we have the capacity to see beyond our own immediate needs and could we put together a program of planting higher quality trees?

Could we recognize that this might be a time for us as a community to consider creating an arboreal legacy?

European Oak-Cheltham-Cotwolds-Great Britain

Oak trees might initially be a bit more expensive but the pay off is generational.

Bill Keitel

Our party is comprised of six people: Five-foot seven, five-foot eight, six-foot, six-foot two, six-foot four and six-foot six; all of that equals = 35 feet and then some.

In Great Britain people who are bird watchers are often times called “Twitchers.” I suspect it sounds a bit derogatory?

I find myself surrounded by my friends and kindred, and they are all avid birders. Patagonia Lake is our destination (in the deep south of Arizona). I’ve been there before with poor results. I don’t particularly want to return to a place that seemed to hold little promise. It is mid-morning, and we won’t get there until early afternoon, a depressing time to try and go birding. Birding is best in the early morn and late afternoon. They are my friends and kindred, so I act as though we are going birding.

My newfound friend John Swegman is armed and dangerous with serious photography equipment, stuff that looks like the AK47s of the telephoto world. He has traveled the world and also just returned from South America -identifying 34 species of hummingbirds. Together with my Uncle Mike (both of these fellows are real-life archaeologists),  they plan to set us off on a birding “Journey of Discovery,” and I’m skeptical.

Patagonia Lake is a place that offers refuge to a bird that is normally seen in Central America and in Mexico. On rare occasion it travels an incredibly thin corridor extending into the United States that is 20 miles wide and 30 miles long – that is the specific range of an elusive bird called the Elegant Trogan.

The year prior my wife and I made some Audubon news 20miles north of Patagonia. We identified a bird called the Streak Backed Oriole, somewhat of a rarity in these parts. We are closet birders and are uncomfortable in making a fuss about it. I discreetly hide my Nikon binoculars in the small of my back, hidden under my jacket. I elect not to afford a pair of expensive Swarovski binoculars, but will immediately pull off the road to inquire when I see someone who has a pair.

Patagonia Lake is a beautiful park about 20 miles north of the border, and it offers camping, boating, birding and hiking. We arrive and take to the trails that wind through the arroyos and bottom land, hoping to see some interesting birds. On our list are Vermillion Flycatchers,Neotropic Cormorants,Hepatic Tanager, Green-Tailed Tohee, and the amazing and ever-elusive Elegant Trogan.

As we hike down the well-worn “twitchers trail,” I feel the need to get off the beaten path and wander over a far hill that is covered with all manner of prickly cactus. Within a few minutes, I’m hiking a completely different course than my birding companions. It’s all rocks and cactus and no birds, so I follow the ravines to get back to my friends.

As I arrive, they all seem to be alarmed and in crouched positions. They seem frozen and their movement is limited, they signal me with their heads and eyes — all a-twitchin’! They have suddenly been transformed into “Twitchers”! I cast off yonder and see a dark silhouette of a parrot-shaped bird on a low-hanging limb. My friends continuing their twitchin’, and I reposition myself so I can get a better view. Sweet mercy, it’s the bird that they have coveted, the Elegant Trogan! It is within 20 meters of them, and nobody knows what to do, what to do, what to do? Stand still? Back up? Move forward? Crouch down?

It is a the male of the species, and it is as colorful as any parrot that graces this earth. Ever vigilant, John raises his camera, zooms a lens or two and captures an image of this elusive avian. We breathe a sigh of relief because we know we have created confirmation of the sighting.

Now that we have this confirmation, we can decide our next move. We decide to move forward toward the bird … ever so slowly. Step by step, we play our hand, with a devil-may-care attitude we move forward, and within a few minutes we are within spitting distance of the bird. We are so close that John’s fancy telephoto lens can no longer focus at that close of range. The bird seems completely content to bask in the sunlight that is peeking through the shadowy bottom lands. The bird is oblivious to our intrusion into his world. We have the feeling that it may well perch on our shoulders if it had a hankerin’.

Off in the distance we hear other birders headed down the path. We want to share our prized birding experience, so we “twitch” them into realizing the prize at hand. They

slowly and respectfully bring their tripods to the ground and begin to document the bird at Patagonia Lake.

We have had our fill, but it is hard to leave behind a good bird sighting. Alas, we back away and head down the path. To our amazement, the Elegant Trogan follows us, branch to branch, down the path almost within arm’s reach, inexplicable. Maybe the bird is employed by the Arizona Tourism Department?

Our birding trip to Patagonia Lake was a sensory overload, and we couldn’t have had a greater adventure. At a time when governmental budgetary constraints leave many natural resources and state parks in question, we have gladly left our tourism dollars at every place possible, and we have been well rewarded. The experience could not have been replicated. A Big Thanks to the fine folks of Arizona who keep alive the recreational experience that can be found in such limited places on this planet!

Bill Keitel-UnVarnished Essays-Road Notes               photo credits John Swegman

THREE RIVERS PETROGLYPHS Late January 2013

Three Rivers Petroglyphs

The sun rise over the Sierra Blanca Mountains was interrupted by a SONIC BOOM!….as was our peaceful slumber. We peer out of our StarShip (the name for our R.V.) and thirty miles distant we can see the reflecting sands of White Sands Missile Range north of Alamogordo, NM. Rumor has it that German fighter pilots have been invited to practice maneuvers over the New Mexican desert. The fighter jets occasionally break the sound barrier and rattle all of humanity within earshot. The missile range is approximately 40 x 150 miles when you take into account Holloman Airfield, White Sands National Monument and Fort Bliss McGregor Range.

Our interest in these parts happens to be Expression, Communication & ART! We are talking about art that predates the old masters, we are talking about art that is more simplistic than the American artist Grandma Moses.
The renown caves in France, Lascaux and Chauvie cave harbor some of the finest and oldest art in all the world. Art work so detailed that paleo-zoologists were able to determine fascinating new details regarding the appearance of long extinct animals. (Cave of Forgotten Dreams). Alas, these caves are completely off limits to the public because too much humidity in the caves can irrevocably damage to the artwork, your breath limits your access.

We are the only people camping at Three Rivers Petroglyphs and it is quite literally …deserted excepting for a lone campground host in the far distance. Coyotes howl close by and keep us awake, they sound like dozens though I suspect its only a half dozen or so. We drift off to sleep and awake the next morning ready to provision a back pack and spend the day afoot. The amount of rock art at this park is an astounding 21,000 glyphs all within a space of perhaps 2 or 3 miles. It is relatively easy hiking in low mountain foothills. The rock art and designs have been pecked through the darkly patinated volcanic rock leaving light colored line images of the past.

Early Americans have been living and hunting in this area for perhaps 10 to 12,000 years. At that time they were hunting large beasts like bison and wooly mammoth. The mammoths went extinct and the bison range remained northward on the plains & prairies, extending even into Canada (woodland bison).

We are able to ascertain that these glyphs were made post-extinction since no bison or mammoth are depicted on the rocks. It also gives us limited insight into their lives, their values, their fears and their beliefs. It is a place for a modern day hiker and raconteur to create conjecture about everything ancient. We pack a camera,binoculars, lunch and water with the expectation of a thorough reconnaissance of the park and …..ahem, a bit beyond the park boundaries.

The sun has risen and we are immediately struck by the shear number of petroglyphs that start to appear on any flat surface available. We start to categorize the glyphs, mammals, insects, fish, & other food sources, people, sun and the cardinal points, weapons, spirit world and geometric designs that might depict weaving designs. These pictures allow us to realize how their world was limited. Their world was limited to Mt. Sheep, turkeys, bear claws,road runners, snakes, lizards, centipedes, birds of prey (falcons and American Kestrels) fish, turtles, deer and mountain lions or panthers. Many of these items depicted were food sources. In a past trip to this park I believe I saw a beautiful tree of life form in the shape of a corn plant. I was not able to relocate the image on this trip. These people were herbaceous, carnivorous and (because of the centipede glyph) perhaps insectivores….total Omnivores!
The art in Lascaux in France has detailed shading and sophisticated flowing lines and depth, it has dimension beyond anything found at three rivers. Lascaux was 10,000 years ago, Chauvie Cave was 32,000 years ago and the art at Three Rivers is much more recent. The difference in these two cultures and their art is profound. The art found in European caves is far more detailed (using charcoal, working by torch light). The pecking of rock at Three Rivers looks rudimentary and more primitive. It may well have been the graffiti of kids wiling away the hours of a warm sunny day like ours. Only one object we found stood out as three dimensional. It was what appeared to be at first glance nothing more than a circle, but then we realized that it contained inner lines that curved at the edges…creating at sphere! It took on the depiction of something SPHERICAL! The appearance of the lines and seams found on a modern day basketball. This image was three dimensional, perhaps the moon or sun leaving the remaining 20,999 petroglyphs….two dimensional!

Were these children playing and making graffiti on a sunny hillside or were these adults marking important food sources in their lives? We could decipher turkeys from road runners, we could discern falcons from wood peckers (acorn or Gila wood peckers) and Mt. Sheep from deer.
All traces of these people vanished by approximately 1300′s putting their disappearance within a few generations of deadly European diseases that effected most native societies. Our diseases defeated them even before we knew they existed. The diseases moved faster than the European explorers.

Graffiti-When we think of graffiti we think of public bathroom walls and railroad cars. Some of this is artful, some vulgar & some expressing territoriality. Some graffiti evokes fright and fear and in the case of the mens bathroom much is sexual in nature. The rock art at Three Rivers seems to express none of these, with the exception of “spirit man”. His image is that of eyes wide open, eyebrows raised, mouth wide open, hands waving in the air! At his feet is what appears to be a rattlesnake. This is North America’s first caution sign! Proclaiming “woe unto those that encounter the snake!” In all of our communication skills….we could do no better.

Having revisited this park in the past decade we are well rewarded with a beautiful day hike. A hike through one of America’s oldest and finest outdoor art galleries.

A gallery that has outlasted any gallery our current society has created.

Bill Keitel-Road Notes-Area Voices January 28 2012

SR 71- Blackbird January 29 2013

We meet all manner of people on the road and seldom find anyone that doesn’t have some curious background, hobby or interest. We see thousands of RV’s with detailed graphics painted on their vehicles lions, hawks, eagles, Harley Davidson logos and all manner of symbols of flags & patriotism.

I confess that I think it’s a bit dubious when it comes to putting American flags on everything as an expression of patriotism. I think patriotism is not that easy or simple and often times requires a much higher degree of dedication & sacrifice.

As I slow to a stop, I see that the RV in front of me has an atypical image on the back of his RV, it is rather detailed painting of an SR 71 – The Blackbird. If you have an interest in aviation and history you would know this is the worlds fastest aircraft. It was a product of every discipline of science and technology American ingenuity had to offer. This was a top secret project that was backed by the full resource of our government and also the infamous group called Skunkworks!

The owner of the RV is Bret Medbury and I had to enquire if there was any significance to the painting on the back of his vehicle. He humbly offered an explanation, “I’m an engine guy, I used to work for Pratt and Whitney….it’s the engine that I helped design.” I was aware that this type of jet engine was a radical design and that it required thinking that was far advanced from modern day understanding at that time. The air flow into the engine was extreme. The plane could fly at 80,000+ feet & at three times the speed of sound. They had to find a way to allow even and consistent airflow into an engine that was consuming gallons per second of super hybred aviation fuel.

Bret went on to tell me that he worked on this program in the early days and knew the pilot of this particular plane Bill Parks – a Lockheed Test pilot. He also knew the pilot (Ray Torrick) of the drone that was mounted atop the SR71. Pretty heady endeavors of aerospace technology in the mid 1960′s. The aim of this drone was ultimaltely the stratosphere. Its mission was understanding more about space and technology.

Rays voice lowered and he told me that he bought the RV from the pilots widow. He also told me that her husband might not have known who he was in those early days. Ray said “I’ve redone the RV and I didn’t want to erase this image”. He went on to tell me that the drone was one of the first experimental launches of its kind and that it did not go well. The drone got caught in the draft of this triple-supersonic airplane in such a way that it flipped and severed the tail off of the mothership..the SR 71 Blackbird. They were flying at 85,000 ft. and conditions at mach three make everything more tenuous. Today was a beautiful sunny day in New Mexico and he was enjoying some well deserved retirement time. I could tell in his voice that he was reliving the catastrophe and it was a heartfelt event in his life.

Those experiments tested the mettle of a nation and the people that were willing to fund such projects. They also tested the skill and daring of the men that were willing to take those risks.

As I was leaving he asked me to read the fine print below the image of the Blackbird.

billkeitel@areavoices.com

The news in recent days centered on President Obama going on a rather surprising visit to Burma/Myanmar.   This is of curious interest to me, and I suspect to many of our local immigrants who happen to be from this nation.   A distant connection came to mind as I listened intently of what was to be made of this trip.

Ever so long ago in 1989, Worthington’s own Bob Artley made a trip to this far off land.  Bob was all ready a nationally known Illustrator and cartoonist; his cartoons were syndicated in numerous newspapers and magazines throughout the U.S.   His daughter Jeannie and son-in-law Chris Szymanski held positions in the State Department, and Chris was Chargé d’affaires back when the U.S. had a consulate in Burma.   Bob and his daughter are no longer with us, and Chris lives out east.   I called Chris and asked if we could visit.   He told me that he was astonished that this occurred and was cautiously optimistic because Burmese generals are quite often backsliders.  He said that this event encourages that thought of progression, and back when he was in Burma he and his staff had the distinct feeling that the unfolding of events would not end well.

Bob Artley returned home to Adrian/Worthington with amazing stories about this beautiful land, and it was at this time he mentioned the name Aung San Suu Kyi. The military had just taken power after an election that they chose not to honor. Aung San Suu Kyi  was the candidate, and it was her father who had been a general in the Burmese Revolution many years prior.   He was considered to be the father of modern-day Burma and yet was assassinated 6 months prior to independence.

It was her place in history to step forward to help the people of Burma determine their destiny.   The military would not relent, and she was placed under house arrest for many decades.   Aung San was bestowed the prestigious Nobel Peace Prize, and Chris and Jeannie had the privilege to enjoy her company on a number of occasions, including a memorable Thanksgiving dinner.   The decades rolled past and her family had moved to Oxford,UK. and her husband died of cancer without her being able to leave the country.   The price of moral conviction plays hard and steep.

During the time that  Bob Artley was in Burma, he gave a presentation to Burma’s top cartoonists.   His son-in-law advised him that these Burmese cartoonist’s wanted to be  more politically assertive.  Chris advised Bob to please not allow them that opportunity because of the swift oppression that could easily come to bear.   Bob was also told that there were military agents disguised in the crowd to observe any signs of dissent.

Bob gave a remarkable presentation that was graciously accepted by his Burmese counterparts.   He allowed them to come up on stage and to display their own talents on his oversized cartooning easel.  They enjoyed employing some of Bob’s cartooning techniques and even included them in their own freestyle drawings.  One of the last cartoonists to come up and display his talents used Bob’s signature “farm lantern.” The lantern was something that appeared numerous times in Bob’s cartoons — it was a symbol of warmth, and it shed light throughout the farmhouse and barn and all of Bob’s world.  The cartoonist drew a picture of the Statue of Liberty and in her hand was the  lantern instead of the Torch of Liberty. The lantern stood as a beacon of Liberty but it had an obvious flaw…..you could see the lantern had been extinguished. The flame had gone out and the beacon of light was missing, a puff of smoke was all that remained. Bob was startled because he realized the political implications of this drawing. The cartoonist was communicating with all those present that the liberty of the Burmese had been snuffed out by the military dictatorship.    Bob felt it was an uneasy ending to a rather enjoyable presentation.

This story stuck in my mind over the years and was never forgotten.  Aung San has always piqued my interest and I’ve tried to pay attention to her efforts and her plight. Bob Artley died in the fall of 2011 having lived far more than an average life, it was also a life of artistry and a life of service to others.

A year later I was visiting with Bob’s eldest son, Rob Artley, and as I relayed my story of long ago, he told me I didn’t have the entirety of the events of that day.

Rob went on to tell me that the cartoonist that drew the cartoon that depicted the flame or lantern of Liberty, was never seen again.   It is with this amazing visit that President Obama and Aung San Suu Kyi (two of the world’s Nobel Peace Prize recipients)  have the possibility of rekindling this flame of liberty.   billkeitel

We catch the tube and pop out of the underground at Hyde Park/Speakers Corner.  In past centuries this is where the condemned would be hung before a jeering crowd.   However, your last wish is granted and you are allowed to speak your mind, whether it be about the king or queen or about religion or politics.

This corner of Hyde Park is still a gathering spot for all manner of orators.   On a positive note, nobody is hung here anymore.   We choose to spend our last day in London at Speakers Corner and enjoy the crowd of people.

Early Sunday afternoon people start to show up some carrying soap boxes, some carrying step stools and step ladders.  At any given time 6 to 10 different people are speaking on various topics and we get to choose to listen to those who might have an interesting topic.

We have just taken the subway (the tube) seven stops to get here and while traveling here we noticed the catatonic look on peoples faces, much like the big city indifference while waiting in an elevator.    We fully understand the behavior, no eye contact and no interest in any subway passengers.   This behavioral trait is universal in big cities throughout the world but at this subway stop called Hyde Park….things change.   We pop up out of the subway underground into the cool and breezy October air of London.   People are looking for engagement, people have an interest in what others are saying.  Complete strangers engage with others in a wide assortment of  topics.  We are looking for people we have met here in past visits to this place, they are locals that enjoy this place.

Speakers Corner seems to serve a function in this beautiful city, this park is a societal pressure relief valve in a city of 9 million.   All manner of people show up, Professors of Philosophy, Preachers, Sinners, learned and not so learned and even some mentally ill.   Some espouse tolerance some espouse intolerance and everyone has an opinion that they are willing to share.

As the crowds gather we survey the situation and decide what looks interesting and take our stroll.    We encounter a mullah thumping the Koran with all the passion necessary to gather a crowd of listeners and on lookers.     A few steps farther down we encounter a anti-Darwinist from Texas wearing western hat and pants that praise Jesus.    The crowds number in the hundreds but not thousands, its a chilly day and you really have to want to be here to spend more than an hour.

The orators find a spot that they feel comfortable and climb up on their makeshift podiums.  All have heartfelt convictions and are not shy about offering them to the crowd.  The crowd is also not the least bit shy and will question and heckle the speaker if they feel inspired to do so.  The speaker will have to defend his postulation and at times they nearly get shouted down.   Everyone here has a part to play, you can be a passive listener, you can be the heckler, you can be the speaker.  It is not for the timid or faint of heart.

The Muslim is defending his Koran while some shout that it is the book of the devil.   The Texas preacher is  being taunted by an atheist  that  asks him….”are his prayers… thoughts with magic powers? “   We find ourselves listening to a rather polite Norwegian student that must be a geneticist.  He is explaining to the Anti-Evolutionist how his logic is slightly flawed.  He is bantered by the man on the step ladder and the dialogue goes on.   Crowds cheer one and then the other, conversation goes on spontaneously though the crowd of people that previously would not look at each other on the subway.   It is Londoners and out of towners getting together in a place that is acceptable to create dialogue with complete strangers.   This is Speakers Corner….they would have it no other way!

Down toward the Marble Arch we see some younger adults getting up and speaking, it looks odd, because they have note cards?    Oh, this is a big FAIL!   nobody At Speakers Corner has note cards!!    We walk over to find out that they are from the USA and I shout to ask them where they are from?   Wisconsin, is the reply, it must be a college class trip.   They have picked topics that they think are controversial.  Alas, they are in London and not to many people care about gay rights anymore …..thats so old school and its history over here.

We’ve noticed that philosophy gets second billing to religion around here.    Religious pride has been piqued over the past decade with the advent of numerous wars.   More Bibles, more Korans, more burka’s than in past years, yet the crowd is amicable.  Police casually stroll through the park looking for pick pockets.     No matter how heated the debate, everyone has a modicum of respect for each other.   It is London at its finest.

The arguments heat up and the speaker calls out one of his hecklers who has just turned to leave in disgust.   He shouts “don’t leave here, answer me!”   ”don’t let your emotions get in the way of your thoughts and judgement!”   The man turns back around and they continue to debate.   I  am mindful that this is not part of the Univ. lecture circuit and the people that garner the biggest crowds tend to be the people with the loudest voices, but many people can vent and air their concerns.

We find that we have been bumping into a number of people that have been enjoying the same speakers as ourselves.     Two of them are people with whom we share a common friend in London and the other four are from all over the world.

The sun is starting to set and we’ve spent the entire afternoon enjoying the cacophony of this special place.  Its getting quite dark and yet  we continue to visit with our new found friends, one is a soldier from Croatia, another from Algeria and the Saudi has his young children with him.    They ask us where we are from and we proudly proclaim USA.   The Algerian asks if he can ask me a question about my country and I warmly agree.     He smiles and looks me in the eyes and says  ”How would you feel if Muslims invaded your country and some of them brought Koran’s with them to convert your citizens? ”   “we have been here thousands of years”  I smile and realize that he has deeply held convictions regarding U.S. involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan.   ”You disregard the United Nations, the very organization that ensures mutual trust throughout the world, you find nothing, no weapons of mass destruction.”    ”You came in as cowboys and no regard for others!”     Hmmm, this was a bit more than I had bargained for in the dark shadows of a park in inner city London.   My country has good and honorable intentions and we can all find fault with each other, what do we have in common?     He smiles and l see that he is not dangerous!     We continue to exchange  views on all manner of topics,  each of us having our own heartfelt perspective.      It is now completely dark and the crowds have disbursed and the cold has set in.    The Saudi wants to introduce me to his children, they have never met an American.  We are all cold and chilled to the bone, yet we are all confident in our exchanges with each other, they were warm and genuine.   We exchange business cards and agree to meet here again sometime.   Speakers Corner-2012-Bill Keitel

Our photographer friend Brian Benson has graciously given us passage into his view of London. He is a noted photographer in London. He has numerous credits to his name, people on the street know his name. He is known throughout the city and well beyond. Brian was put in charge of the photography for a book called “The Traditional Shops of London”, it caught our attention a year ago because of our interest in historic retail. We now have a chance to see London through his eyes. The book is a pictorial glimpse of stores and shops that have been open for more than a hundred years. We feel that the ensuing years will prove this book to be a timeless record of the shops that have endured over the ages, some of which are nearing the 400 year mark! Brian did not take his charge lightly when working on this project. His photography is a reflection on commerce and trade throughout the centuries.

A seven hour plane ride and 50 minutes on the tube (subway) and I blink, I find myself shaking his hand and he is offering to give us a tour of his London, little known and seldom seem. We meet at the British Museum (with which we are quite familiar) We both agree that Great Britain and the museum got a head start on pillaging many of the great wonders of the world long before other nations. We love the museum and it has drawn us back again and again.

We don’t tarry at the museum because of our familiarity with it. Out the gates we head toward Shaftesbury Ave. towards the Arthur Beale Chandlery, they’ve been in business for 400 years outfitting ships and supplying rigging lines for theaters since Shakespeare was a lad. Every thing is solid brass, pulleys, hooks and cleats, they are experts in all things rope and line. The turks head knots on the display in the window attests to their expertise. The store is not decked out to be historic….it just is! Its an operating chandlery not particularly suited for tourists. I’ve got a bit of a background in sailing (windsurfing-smallest of all sailing crafts) so I visit with Steve an employee of the Arthur Beale Chandlery, we talk rope and line. 200 years ago the store was located on Fleet River a small tributary emptying into the Thames. It was considered backwater and eventually it was filled in to make room for greater density in London. He smiles when I tell him about the United States Windsurfing Association (of which I’ve been a board member). Then he glances over at the hawser rope/line, this line is used to moor ships, it is perhaps three inches in diameter. We have the sparest things in common….. but he is gracious. Steve tells us he spent a short time in Hawaii thinking he had found work, disappointment ensued and he returned to London. He is glad to work for a business that has centuries of experience.

A couple streets over on New Oxford Street we spy the James Smith & Sons, its a Walking stick company……a natural history museum of woods that are suitable for proper English walking sticks and canes. Every conceivable type of appropriate wood can be found in this store. They custom fit each walking stick to the customer and it is fitted with a brass or silver ferule to finish it off. James Smith also specialize in Umbrellas and quirts, quirts are those tiny little whips used to prod race horses. Lest you think this might be a marginal business, consider that they have been pursuing their trade since 1830. While we are there a man comes in and goes bee line to a particular walking stick, I suspect he has looked at it before. The equivalent of $250.00 changes hands and he leaves with a modestly priced James Smith walking stick. They have the most authentic and beautiful store front I’ve ever encountered. Their motto? “Outside every silver lining is a big black cloud”.

Our time with Brian is limited (he’s a busy chap!) so we don’t tarry. We leave only to immediately get side tracked and head thru a curious alley called Neil’s Yard, this is a brightly colored & eclectic place that Monty Python spent some in his formative years. Opp’s we’ve got to stay on focus so we head toward St. Martins in the Field, a James Gibb church from 1722. We duck in and get to hear a string ensemble of world renown, there has been a dedication of a new stain glass window . I soon realize that we are doing more than the “Traditional Shops of London”! I slowly come to realize that we are seeing London through the eyes of an experienced and professional photographer. We are in the realm of Trafalgar Square, a place of serious historic consequence to British History. We wend our way to St. James’s Park and dodge horses on parade. We slow down and a special vista reveals itself, it is a view that includes the park, the Royal Horse Guards and in the distance is the Thames and the London Eye. The London Eye presents itself as an arc on the distant skyline, postcards are made of this.

We cross the Thames to South Borough Market, it is a place of vibrant cottage industry. The people here are selling breads, produce, candles, fabrics, mushrooms and above all….its a meat market! My first impression is the pheasants and hares that hang before us are taxidermy display items to draw the customer into their selling spaces. The ponding blood on the floor makes me reevaluate my display ideas, everything here is food fresh from the fields. The space is thick with friendly people that would love to sell you a rabbit, pigeon/squab or squid. We settle for some granola and sour dough bread to take along for sustenance. Our time in London is an exercise training session, we walk 5 to 10 miles each day.

We walk many streets, narrow and twisting, to the contours of the London landscape. After crossing the Thames a time or two, we tippy toe deep down a narrow, narrow stairway that seems to have light at the bottom. There is no need for a hand rail because our shoulders almost touch each wall on our descent. Our eyes acclimate when we reach the bottom and it reveals itself. Casks of wine line the wall behind the three meter bar (no beer-this is a wine cellar). It is catacomb like and half the seating is directly below the old London streets. Brian graciously asks if we would like to sample a glass of wine. The ceilings are to low to actually stand up….so we hunch over and find a table that will allow us to be seated in an upright position while enjoying a glass in the depths of this wine crypt. Perhaps forty five people are enjoying this establishment. I start to realize that I am privy to special, special places as seen through the eyes of this London photographer Brian Benson. Coal dust from the 1840′s still cover the bricks that surround our dining area. We toast our tour guide and then head toward the blinding light of the street level, we enjoy seeing the city through his lens.

So much of inner city London is completely accessible on foot and Brian has measured our walk to encompass an incredible amount of this beautiful city. We are indebted to him.

Photo by Brian Benson www.bbphoto.co.uk

billkeitel

From Minnesota to Manarola – Cinque Terra Trekking!
billkeitel

We catch the tube (subway) to Heathrow and find out that our flight to Genoa has been canceled. We rearrange everything and head to Paris to catch connecting flight to our destination, Genoa and then on to the Cinque Terra of Italy.

As we arrive via train from Genoa the rest of the tourist world is quickly checking off their lists the places to see and things to do….throughout Italy, Rome, Napoli, Venice, etc. We’ve chosen to spend a few solitary days in the Cinque Terra’ and try to get to know this special spot that is nestled along the Medditerian in Northern Italy. It is a curious region in Italy because it has few cars or motorcycles, the streets are to narrow and steep. The 5 cities were in existence long before the advent of cars and motor scooters. Residents simply take the train or walk from to town, they are nestled in the creases of this mountainous coastline. We disembark and wend our way up the steep city streets of Manarola looking for our lodging for the coming days. At the very top of the street we find our lodging,Casa Capellini it has a high and grand view looking directly through the center of town and then back dropped by the Mediterranean.

Its late in the day, the seagulls catch the final updraft off the Mediterrean sea coastline…as the sun sets on the horizon. The gulls use it to their advantage and glide another kilometer or two with very limited wing movement to their evening perches. The voices of people coming home from work can be heard on the streets below. The next morning we go to get our National Trail-Hiking Pass and are wide eyed and shocked when we are informed that they have just shut down all the coastal hiking pathways because of flooding and landslides. I get a bit bleary as I think of two years worth of planning, only to find out that this recent flooding has made the lower trails unsafe and the country has elected to close them for public safety. I feel thwarted and realize that I need to muster some positive perspective, its a sunny day on the coast of the Medditerian Sea and I’m fit and able. There are numerous high mountain pathways that lead to the five other communities and perhaps we’ll access them…..over the top, through the mountain vineyards. I’m not completely sold on this idea….the mountains are very, very , steep and I don’t have an alternative plan.

As we dither our circumstances, we stroll into a street side business and visit with a gal that long ago came from Minnesota! Christina (Godfrey) Bordone’ and her husband operate a beautiful little business called Cinque Terra Trekking. Her smile and confidence tell me all I need to know about my circumstances…she confidently states “Take the high pathways! They are more scenic and require more effort…but you will be rewarded!” I forget that five minutes ago I was crest fallen and this Cinque-Terrian arc-angel has just caused me to NOT despair! The heaviest of our back packs are left at our bed and breakfast and we elect to hike with simple day packs.

Christina is from Proctor Minnesota and 15 years ago she arrived in Manarola and fell in love with her husband Nicolo Bordone’. Christina’s generosity of spirit made me realize that nothing is lost by this landslide that has shut down the coastal walkways of the communities along the coast. These are the people I want to visit with and understand their community. I ask Nicolo how long his family has lived in Manarola and he makes a puzzled face…”We have always lived in Manarola” and indeed they have…for the past 1300 years everybody in this town of 400 have been right here! They know no other place, they have no other roots. They fish, they have vineyards and now they accommodate tourists.

1300 years ago the people that lived here realized that if they raise grapes on these incredibly steep hillsides and then ferment them, they will be rewarded. Today we have all but forgotten the reason for the fermentation process. The fermenting process creates a liquid that is void of water borne germs and parasites. Today much of our society thinks of alcoholic beverages as a means of losing touch with reality, when in fact it was a perfect way to avoid the deadly germs and water borne illnesses that came from the village upstream.

Today the terraces are 75 to 80 % vineyards and the other 20% has gone fallow. The romance of a vineyard wears thin when you come to understand how much work is put into these narrow terraces. We watch as workers scoop small shovels full of rocky soil upon to the next terrace and then start to rebuild the dry stone masonry walls. All of this is done to keep the limited amount of soil from continuing is downward migration toward the sea. This is simply to hard of work for many people and though most of the land still stays within local family structures, the land that is not currently in vineyards quickly accommodates various species of juniper trees.

Christina met Nicolo when he managed the local youth hostel , a place into which he had put his heart and soul. Over the past 15 years tourism has become serious business and politics then entered the picture. They lost their lease on the hostel and found themselves without. Their entrepreneurial spirit arose and they recently started a business called CINQUE TERRA TREKKING. Christina and Nicolo unofficially remain the good will ambassadors to this beautiful community. Christina takes some of her precious time to tell me about their store. It is small by American standards, but it is well stocked and they have a brilliant marketing plan. They are selling high quality hiking shoes and gear. Everybody else in town is selling post cards and tee shirts. I look down at my fairly new hiking boots and realize I can’t oblige them, but realize that they carry some of the highest quality Italian designed hiking boots and products in the region. What a great functional souvenir. I regret not buying a 2nd pair of hiking boots!

It is mid morning and tourists are jumping off the local train to sprint around town and check Manarola off their list and then on to another. They haven’t taken the time to do the things that Christina suggests to us. We climb up the steep pathways into the terraced vineyards and hike the upper pathways. Vintners are still pruning a few of the vines, even though the grapes have been harvested. The morning haze lifts and leaves a small amount of dew of the ground. I suspect it is the dew that makes the Italian grapes legendary. Each step we take is an effort on these steep terraces, yet each step allows the traveler to see more of the Cinque Terra’. The stone steps were placed in these precarious spots, creating footholds for hardy vintners and tourists alike.

Christina and Nicolo embue the rebirth and entrepreneurial spirit of this beautiful place. Christina forsook the mighty shores of Lake Superior to embrace the warmth of the Medditerian. The community of Manarola is all the better for it. Christina once again tells us “take the high pathways, you won’t be disappointed.” We believe her, this expatriate has made us believers in the welcoming spirit of the Cinque Terre’.
From Minnesota to Manarola – Cinque Terra Trekking!
billkeitel