Brigham's Blog: January 2010

29 Jan 2010

I sent out an e-mail last night quitting my band, stating that I didn't really want to play bass anymore and am instead concentrating on learning piano - both true statements. It was fun for four years, but after last year's gig I got the impression that it's time to check that box and move on to something else.

We did some more hardwood flooring work last night: Cari puttied nail holes, I did quarter-round molding. I am becoming adept at producing returns, a funny little process using small, precisely cut bits of wood to produce a finished end. I still don't consider myself much of a carpenter, but I am getting better at it.

My new section of baseboard molding now looks much better. We are very nearly finished with the hallway - all that remains is to fit wood to the top of some stairs and more nail hole filling work. This weekend we move furniture around and begin on the dreaded dining room.

Why dreaded? Because it presently has a tiled floor, which automatically means tile cutting - and tile dust. Also, the tiled floor is placed on an additional layer of plywood over the sub floor; they may or may not be glued together. Getting that up may be very difficult. We may even have to even replace the sub floor - a real job, by all accounts. But... we'll see what we're in for after we start.

Last night I became the recipient of another few boxes of Michael F. Keaney film noir VHSs - a hundred or so, I guess. WOW. I am now very well in stook. (Hang on a minute. I thought that phrase meant, "well supplied." That's how my Dad used to use it. Looking it up I see it's British slang for, "in trouble." Perhaps I misheard Dad.) Anyway - I have lots of tapes. It will take me years to get through these.

Last night I started watching another film noir I've heard of but have never seen: "Canon City" (1948), an amusing work about a prison break. It's amusing because the film interviews some actual convicts in the Colorado prison, and their warden! This film is also notable for appearances by two famous and interesting stars:

DeForest Kelley: Yes, Star Trek's "Bones." This is a very early appearance.

Jeff Corey: "Who?" I can hear you saying. He's a bit player in noirs - you see him turning up in them every now and then - but, as it turns out, he was one of the top acting teachers in America during the 1950's. He was also a Hollywood commie (there were a bunch - there still are) who ran into trouble with the House Committee on Un-American Activities (HUAC). He has a good role as a cop in a favorite noir, "Follow Me Quietly" (1949).

Before I leave film noir I should mention James Lileks' amusing 1940's black and white films page. Funny writer, that Lileks. Especially good is his look at the mother of all chicks-behind-bars films, "Caged." Seriously, check this site out. You will get a good idea of why I'm so enthusiastic about these great old films.

A Burbank girl pointed out these two interesting auction items: Lockheed blackout, and "Color City." All the time I lived in Burbank, we never called the NBC Studios "Color City." It was always, simply, "the NBC Studios." It's funny that given all that time it took me until 2008 to finally take the studio tour. (There are many people living in Manhattan who have never been up the Empire State Building.)

Johnny Carson broadcast the Tonight Show from 1972 to 1992 from the facility; I had the minor thrill of standing where his desk was located all that time. We also got to look at one of Jay Leno's cars, parked in the parking lot. Some exotic Audi - I forget what model. (My friend Mike also once spotted Leno driving a Stanley Steamer in Burbank.) The old Tonight Show set is now used for Access Hollywood, a production I have never seen with, without a doubt, bubbleheaded hosts highlighting the talent-deprived stars of today. Paugh.

And here's my usual Friday send-off: Have a great weekend!

28 Jan 2010

Letter from Mark Twain. For a brilliant mind like Twain's, calling a man an "idiot" is far too simple. Writing, "You, sir, are the scion of an ancestral procession of idiots stretching back to the Missing Link" is much more like it!

I woke up at 5 AM this morning, after only 5 1/2 hours of sleep - and I didn't even take a nap yesterday. This post-sickness burst of energy is weird; I don't like it. It's just not me. My brain is racing and it seems as if there just aren't enough hours in the day.

We did some more hardwood flooring last night; we're almost done with the hallway. I have the closet to finish - easy - and then we need to work out a solution for some trim at the entrance to the stairs leading downwards. And a whole lot of nail holes to putty up and conceal. I think we should be done by this weekend. And then... the dining room. That's going to be a difficult demolition because the floor is tiled.

I had one of those little close calls last night that I sometimes have with power tools. (I have a long standing uneasy truce with power tools, which I fear and respect.)

I borrowed an old Craftsman table saw from a friend; the saw has a rather clunky plastic and metal saw shield, the purpose of which is to guard the rotating blade from fingers, hands, etc. (And, I suppose, the manufacturer from lawyers.) The problem is that it is poorly designed and it was scratching the wood surface as I pushed and generally impeding operation. So I removed it. No problem, right? I saw such a table saw among the tools at the Lee High School Theatre Department. If it was unsafe they wouldn't be exposing kids to it, right? In my mind, of course, was the thought, "This table saw is now probably more dangerous than it was before. You must be careful."

So last night I needed to rip a 1/2 inch section from a 24" flooring segment. As I looked at what I was about to do, a little voice told me, "Stand to the side, not in the front as usual. It will be safer for your fingers to push the stock." As I completed cutting the piece, WHAM! The spinning blade flung a spear of hardwood past where I would have stood, at the garage wall. Cari heard the noise and looked in the garage: "What was that?" she asked. "My Heavenly Father protecting me from harm," I replied. Mental note: Stand well clear of possible flying stock and take care to secure the cut wood!

I will be glad when this job is finished.

Last night I watched a top notch film noir, "The Breaking Point" (1950), with John Garfield. Garfield made a number of excellent noirs, but I think this one was his best. As usual, he plays a headstrong and acerbic but basically likable guy. Born Jacob Julius Garfinkle, he died way too young from long term heart problems at age 39. His funeral was mobbed by fans; the largest funeral attendance for an actor since Rudolph Valentino.

What struck me about this film was the refreshingly non-stereotypical treatment of a black man (named Wesley); the final scene of the man's son awaiting his return from a dodgy boat cruise was poignant.

Last night I watched an episode of "Batman: The Brave and the Bold" (Cartoon Network) that was - there is no other word for it - delightful. In the opening five minutes Plastic Man and Elongated Man get all twisted up in a taffy puller while quibbling with one another as to who Batman prefers to work with. The Atom (a scientific genius) and Aquaman (a over-muscled dolt) shrink and venture into Batman's cells to cure him of a deadly toxin. Wow. I haven't had this much fun or laughed out loud watching a cartoon series since "The Tick." After that last Batman film I thought that they had pretty much burned out every possible enjoyable variation on the character - guess I was wrong.

Actually, in this series Batman is the professional, sober-sided foil for the real stars of the show, the minor heroes: Blue Beetle, the Atom, Aquaman, Plastic Man, etc. The characterization of Aquaman (who, let's face it, nobody really likes much) is hilarious: he's a somewhat dim-witted, action-addicted, pretentious oaf who shouts things like, "I'm the King of the Sea!"

I understand my favorite Batman villain, the incredibly underwhelming Calendar Man (real name: Julian Day), makes an appearance in one of these episodes. I am looking forward to it!

27 Jan 2010

Well, let's see what I've got today.

Item: An Australian got upset with me yesterday and claimed that all of the Australian jokes on my rugby website were anti-Australian - he called me a racist. (Worse, he also called me a Pom or a New Zealander.) So, to make amends, I published his anti-New Zealand rugby jokes. In my defense I mentioned that I'm an American, so I suppose he hates me all the more.

Item: While laying about Monday feeling like Death Warmed Over, I watched an episode of the old sitcom "Bachelor Father" on the Retro Television Network. This one was from 1960. I haven't seen an episode of this show since about 1963 or so. The comedy in it was broad, stagey and contrived and made "I Love Lucy" look even more like the timeless comedy classic that it is.

You know what I really, really like about the Retro Television Network? They run the closing credits exactly as they appeared during the first run of the show, with original cast and crew credits and closing music. In other words, they don't annoyingly squish them to a third of the screen and then run obnoxious network ads for some other show. It makes a difference. With the old way you feel as though you've watched a finished show. The new way is simply information overflow, with the program material blending in with the ads and other network crap.

The other thing they don't do is stick a promo for some other show in the lower left hand corner... once again, distinguishing the show from the other material.

Item: I am responsible for the scans of the senior photos from my high school yearbooks from 1972-1974 (which somebody else posted). Why do I do things like this? Because my first and best calling is to be an archivist, librarian or museum curator, I guess. And yes, I can be found in the Class of 1974, looking like an uber-dork.

Item: The Beach Boys once played in Burbank early in their career. Cathy Palmer's Burbank Blog contains her well-written and researched story about it. Fact: A girl from Burbank High, my high school, inspired Brian Wilson's song "Be True to Your School." Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah. (Be sure to check out Sherry and Jodi's awesome flips. I give it as my opinion that there has never been a more attractive hairstyle for girls than the 1960's flip.)

Item: The watchword for this week is hardwood, as in hardwood floors. I am sick of tools all over the place and having to be careful where I place my feet. I cannot abide clutter. So I cleared my evening calendar (no Webelos meeting or piano lesson this week) for a full court press to finish the hallway. (We did a lot last night.) The other areas, the dining room and office, aren't areas one has to travel though very often, so I don't feel quite as driven to get those done.

Item: Seen on a TV screen at Robek's: "If you don't have enemies, you don't have character." - Paul Newman. The other Newman family quote I self-servingly use is from his wife Joanne Woodward (reflect that Paul Newman was frequently called "The Sexiest Man Alive"): "Looks are great, but looks fade. If you have a man who can make you laugh every day then you really have something."

Well, um, that is, I think Cari is laughing at the things I say and not at me...

26 Jan 2010

Well... yesterday was supposedly "Blue Monday," or the most depressing day of the year. Okay, I get that. I spent it indoors swanning around the house watching television and fighting a temperature, feeling listless and as weak as a kitten. Never took a shower, never shaved or washed my hair - just stayed in bed feeling miserable.

I feel better now. I guess I ate something that disagreed with me - or perhaps I was food poisoned somehow. Or a 24 hour stomach bug of some kind. All I wanted was water... I must have been dehydrated. I had Cari run to the grocery store to get me Popsicles, which were my breakfast, lunch and dinner yesterday.

When the evening came I felt well enough to nail down a couple of courses of hardwood flooring and did some molding and trim work - then gave up because I started to feel lousy again.

I've been watching some ninth season Top Gear episodes; a particularly good one is the shuttle launch. (The shuttle in question being a modified Reliant Robin, a poky little three wheeled British car of dubious stability.) Hilarious!

I have also been enjoying episodes of Cartoon Network's Batman: The Brave and the Bold. I quite like that show. The stories are light-hearted, colorful and reminscent of the 1960's in style. The actors doing the voice overs are interesting, too. For instance, Wildcat - a 1940's character shown above - was voiced by R. Lee Ermey. Paul "Pee Wee Herman" Rubens voices Bat-Mite.

25 Jan 2010

I feel like something the cat dragged in. Either I ate something that violently disagreed with me yesterday, or I sucked in too much tile dust. (Home improvement - we laid down some more hardwood flooring over the weekend.) At any rate, I was up most of last night - even threw up multiple times. That doesn't happen to me very often. I got very little sleep, so I'm going back to bed.

Watched some old Alfred Hitchcock episodes from my youth on Hulu over the weekend:

The Monkey's Paw - a Retelling (1965) - Based on the famous short story, but placed in the 1960's. The ending made a real impression on me when I was only nine.

An Unlocked Window (1965) - A great example of what Hitchcock called a "MacGuffin." Once again, the ending made a real impression. In fact, it scared the crap out of me!

The Jar (1964) - From a creepy story by Ray Bradbury. What a great cast! Includes Billy Barty. Apparently Ray Bradbury still has the original jar from the episode. Ewwww. Looks disgusting.

These were the best examples of the hour long AH format, I think.

Back to bed. Vaya con Dios.

22 Jan 2010

I'm about halfway though that book of Manny Farber's film articles. From 1950, here's his take on the prevalent film noir style, which he finds ugly (but I find authentic and refreshing compared to the 1930's/1940's "Gee, you're swell!" school of film characters).

By 1950 the noir style dominated films, so much so that even a Roy Rogers Western like "My Pal Trigger" (1946) seems very noirish. I can recall reading Batman comics from the late 40's that aped the film style; it's not surprising. The comic book writers were simply writing stories in the style of the films they were watching. I didn't like them because the plots seemed too complicated for my limited nine year-old's brain. I was happier with the relatively dumbed-down 1960's story lines.

The funny thing about Manny Farber, however, is that it's not always clear that he likes the films he writes about. His praise is mixed with dismissive comments. "The Strange Love of Martha Ivers" (1946), a noir I like, comes in for some heavy bashing by Farber. But at the end of the year he endorses it as one of the the best films of 1946!

I watched a fun film noir last night: "Crime Wave" (1954). This one starred noir stalwarts Sterling Hayden (a snarling, jaded detective), Ted de Corsia (always the heavy), Gene Nelson (All-American type who had a past run-in with the law that haunts him despite his efforts to go straight) and last but certainly not least, the ever lovable Timothy Carey, Hollywood's creepiest creep. In one scene Carey is assigned the duty of guarding Nelson's wife, a job he eagerly accepts with a leering smile and garbled dialogue. One feels her husband's pain at this. Carey's presence in this film gives it the needed DHKCRB (see any of this week's previous blogs) element needed.

(It was also filmed in Los Angeles and Glendale - the community next to Burbank - and I recognized many of the scenes. That's always fun.)

Really, you really ought to catch one of Carey's films. There is nobody else like him in the movies. Imagine Kramer from Seinfeld, except malevolent and perhaps hepped up on speed - then you get an idea of what Timothy Carey is like. Even in real life! Here's some fun: check out this article, and read, "What kept you out of Godfather II?" and "Looking back, is there anything you would have done different?"

We put down the felt for our hallway - we hope to get a good start on the flooring over the weekend. There's a lot of tricky, time-consuming cutting needed for this, however.

My son Ethan is driving from Salt Lake City to Sacramento to attend a friend's wedding... no big deal, normally. But it's winter, it's snowing and he's driving west along the I-80, which moves through Truckee, California and the dreaded Donner Pass in the High Sierras. He is 26 and has chains (he'll need them), but still I worry. And that's what being a parent is all about.

Have a great weekend...

21 Jan 2010

I'm kind of bummed out about this: Poe Toaster a No-Show. I bet next year the Baltimore Chamber of Commerce makes darn sure somebody shows up... or five or six toasters uncoordinatedly appear to fill the market need.

I added a bunch of Old Town Alexandria cell phone photos to my collection, but you have to look for the new ones. They're fit into where they make narrative sense, here and there. Start at the beginning, with the lions.

I got a couple of e-mails about yesterday's connections game. My friend Mike points out that his father and Billy Barty were friends - so there's another connection of me to Mickey Rooney. One fellow said that the whole thing is rather mind-boggling. It isn't, really. You just have to know a thing or two about celebrities.

For instance, can I connect myself with... say... Edmond O'Brien, you know, this week's DAME HUNGRY KILLER-COP who RUNS BERSERK? Sure!

1. Edmond O'Brien and torch singer Julie London made a film together, "The Girl Can't Help It" (1956).
2. Julie London was married to jazz musician Bobby Troup.
3. My parents and I once heard the Bobby Troup Quartet play at his nightclub on Riverside Drive in Burbank.

Or how about this:

1. Edmond O'Brien was in the famous film noir "the Killers" (1946).
2. Ronald Reagan was in the 1964 remake of "the Killers."
3. In 1964 my friend Bob met Ronald Reagan at a political meeting in their home.

Or:

1. Edmond O'Brien and Mickey Rooney were in a 1957 Playhouse 90 production.
2. Mickey Rooney worked with Billy Barty.
3. I once met Billy Barty.

Or the most terse:

1. Edmond O'Brien's wife Olga San Juan and my father (both born in Brooklyn) died in the same Burbank hospital.

...and so it goes. I can probably think of others. It's a sort of name-dropping game made possible by the fact that celebrities often know or work together, and that their lives are well-documented.

But this sort of thing works with non-celebrities, too, of course. For instance, one running gag played on me was by a friend I once did Civil War reenacting with, Harry. I knew Harry was also in a North-South Skirmish Association unit (they fire live muskets at ranges) calling itself the "Washington Blues." I knew a guy I worked with, Franklin, was also in the Blues. So every now and then, in conversations, I'd say to Harry, "You have to know Franklin!" or to Franklin, "You have to know Harry!" This went on for years. Finally I pried out of one of them that they knew one another very well - they just wouldn't admit it to me as a joke!

My favorite is with a guy at church, Bill. Connections with Bill or his family weirdly keep randomly coming up in my life to such an extent that I am now convinced that Bill is at the very Epicenter of Everything. I think this is hilarious; he doesn't see the humor in it at all - which I also find funny.

For instance, I was once talking to one fellow at church about this phenomena, and pointed out that my daughter realized that her school friend is the nephew of the husband of Bill's sister-in-law. As I said this a fellow chimed in, "Hey... that's ME." He's the husband of Bill's sister-in-law.
Or try this: my boss at work is Bill's father's former brother-in-law.

Is this what it's like to live in West Virginia?

I am now reading and enjoying 1940's-1970's movie reviews by legendary film critic Manny Farber - thanks for the book, Don! He wrote during the film noir classic period, but, oddly, didn't seem to appreciate the genre. (He dismissively calls them "bullet orgies.") But that's okay. Film noir seemed to become notable and laudatory later on. It took decades for the critics to fully appreciate how pervasive and uniquely American the noir style was, and this was only after the French had pointed it out to us.

He has a clever writing style; in one review, he describes a noir protagonist's face as "...having a set to it as if he were fed rivets as baby food." Ha! Farber was a great fan of b-movies, as am I. It is generally accepted that some of Hollywood's most adventurous and original film making took place with the creation of second features - which had less riding on them financially and could take risks.

We've been doing small, necessary bits of carpentry and drywall work on our hardwood flooring project right now... I hope to start laying down wood pieces this weekend. The hall is tricky as there are doors, the top of a staircase and a step down into the living room to contend with.

In the meantime I'm taking the time off to pull slivers out of my hand.

20 Jan 2010

I watched a Mickey Rooney musical-noir hybrid last night, "The Strip" (1951) - the Strip in question being Sunset Strip in Los Angeles, a former stomping ground of mine. I can't begin to count the number of times my friend Mike and I drove down it to get to Tower Records. I only recognized one part of it, however. It has changed a lot from 1951 to the Seventies and Eighties.

It wasn't a bad film, but it wasn't a good one, either. It needed more bombast, more DAME HUNGRY KILLER-COP RUNS BERSERK!, if you know what I mean. The thugs, hoodlums and gangsters in it weren't nearly psychopathic enough.

It had some great musical numbers by Louis Armstrong, and a surprisingly good role for "My Three Sons'" Uncle Charlie, William Demarest.

At some points in the film, however, I was bored so I thought of Degrees of Separation between Mickey Rooney and me. Have you ever played that game? Here it is:

1. Mickey Rooney was once married to Barbara Ann Thomason.
2. Barbara Ann Thomason was (apparently) murdered by actor Milos Milos in 1966.
3. Milos Milos appeared with William Shatner in the film "Incubus" (1965).
4. My mother once met William Shatner (and Leonard Nimoy) when she was a waitress down the street from the Desilu Studios in 1966. She got me an autographed photos of both of them, which I still have.

There's another:

1. In his radio days Mickey Rooney played "Mickey McGuire."
2. Midget Billy Barty played Mickey McGuire's "kid brudda."
3. Billy Barty was in "Roustabout" (1964) with Elvis Presley.
4. Los Angeles session guitarist Del Casher was also in this film.
5. Del used to rent a converted garage from my parents.

There's another set of linkages that is more direct:

1. In his radio days Mickey Rooney played "Mickey McGuire."
2. Midget Billy Barty played Mickey McGuire's "kid brudda."
3. I met Billy Barty at a party in 1995.

There may be more - especially since Billy Barty was a Mormon - but you get the idea.

I think Mickey Rooney plays the drums in this film; at least, it wouldn't surprise me if that was really him playing. I think he was by far the most talented child/juvenile actor of his generation. And he was such a skilled and dynamic actor that he's impossible to ignore; when he's on the screen you have to watch him.

He's still alive! (He's 89.) And has his own website.

19 Jan 2010

What a great three day weekend! I did all sorts of interesting things...

We did some prep work on the hallway; finicky carpentry that needs to be done before we can start putting in the hardwood. For this I needed two new tools - it's always a good job when you can justify new tools. Photos start here. Cutting through the ceramic tiles with the angle grinder made a big, dusty mess...

I also learned how to do a minor tune up on my piano. My friend Greg, reading a past blog about tuning issues, let me borrow his chromatic tuner, adjustment hammer (actually a wrench) and rubber wedges (used to mute strings in a three string set). It's not a full 88 key tune like a pro would do, but just enough to fix up the flat spots in the middle scales where I most often play. So I'm buying my own stuff to do it myself...

It took me about an hour and a half, but I started to get quicker towards the end as I developed a technique (gained from watching the prop do it). I feel certain that in the next few months I can do a minor tuning fairly quickly. It was a bit scary at first: in the back of your head is, "What if I break a string? What if I screw it up so badly that I have to call the tuner back in to fix it?" etc.

So now I get my adult piano tuning merit badge in addition to my recent hardwood flooring merit badge.

I watched a pleasant enough little film noir over the weekend : "Murder is My Beat" (1955), an Edgar Ulmer-directed work. It's not as good as "Detour" (1944), which is what Ulmer is primarily known for, but it was entertaining. Always nice to see an honest-to-goodness noir I've never seen before.

I also saw a noir classic: "Shield for Murder" (1954), a crooked cop story with Edmond O'Brien. You've got to love the poster art: DAME HUNGRY KILLER COP RUNS BERSERK! Great stuff... It goes into my favorites...

I also saw an unexpectedly good film with Sophia Loren and William Holden, "The Key" (1958). Directed by Carol Reed (a man, despite that first name) - which is why it was good. Reed is one of Great Britain's finest directors. His "Odd Man Out" (1947) is a favorite noir.

I also bought my wife a new 19" television for the bedroom; I mentioned that our little 28 year-old Montgomery Ward set finally died. This one can display digital HD over-the-air broadcasts and some of the stations look incredible. Despite the fact that the modern broadcasting looks so good, I've been watching RTV - "Retro TV" - channel 7.3 in funky old low definition format. They broadcast Off Beat Cinema (Saturday night was "Godzilla vs. King Kong"), Jack Benny, Magnum P.I. (which I used to watch faithfully in the 1980's), Night Gallery and Alfred Hitchcock Presents - that's my kind of programming!

And over the weekend we had lunch at Mike's American Grill; I love that place. It opened the year we moved into Springfield (VA) - 1987. We've been eating there ever since. I've gotten a bad meal only once - and it was simply a case of too much pepper on my baby back ribs. Anyone of importance visiting us has eaten there with us as well. But one elderly couple holds the record - they eat there every day! They're in their 80's, and are known to the entire staff. In fact, they have a booth more or less reserved for them.

15 Jan 2010

Earlier this week - the 13th to be exact - I mentioned some art (a representation of a run down hotel for men) that made an impression on me. An inquiry to the National Gallery of Art has led to its identification. It's entitled "Sollie 17" by Edward Kienholz and Nancy Reddin Kienholz. The reason why I couldn't find it on the NGofA page was because the work is located in the Smithsonian Museum of American Art. Whoops!

A descriptive page is here, and a photo of the interior is here. I'm glad I found this - I didn't understand that the three men in the room are representations of the same man at different points in time. That makes more sense. But I have to admit, I don't understand the title... "Sollie 17?"

From the write-up: "They created this installation to convey the isolation and defeat of aging alone in America. ... Sollie 17 offers a voyeuristic glimpse into a life of solitary despair. It elicits sympathy, fear, and questions for a society that leaves its elderly to sit and wait for death." The artists succeeded!

Have you ever heard of an "interrobang?" It's a combination of a question mark and an exclamation mark, used in a sentence like "You did what (interrobang)." I stumbled across it yesterday while idly scanning wikipedia articles about California English (and freeway nomenclature) and up-talking. That's the fun thing about wikipedia - you find one topic of interest which leads you to others, and others, etc.

I came across this quote yesterday while waiting for my Acai Energizer to be prepared in a Robek's: "A great secret of success is to go through life as a man who never gets used up." - Albert Schweitzer. It has the ring of truth.

In an ongoing effort to keep from getting used up, I am again attending a concert at the Kennedy Center today; a matinee performance at 1:30. The highlight of it is Sibelius' Second Symphony, arguably his most successful symphony and one I have liked ever since I was a teen. I'll also get to see Emanuel Ax bang away at the house Steinway in Beethoven's 2nd Piano Concerto.

I finished the living room floor last night - it looks great! Best of all, my spouse is happy with it. But in order to finish I had to drop by a church friend's house; he owns a table saw and ripped eight boards for me. Afterwards I got to play his wife's Yamaha parlor grand - a very nice instrument! I am now unsure of which I like better, the sound of the Kawai or the sound of the Yamaha. My piano listening tour continues.

As a result of my evening workload installing hardwood flooring, my teacher and I agreed upon a somewhat lighter load and a less frequent schedule. This week I have a modern pedal piece called chimes-or-bells-something-or-another, which requires my left hand to bounce across octaves from bass to treble keys. It's fun to play. I also have another church hymn and a third of a two page Sonatina.

A delayed Christmas present shipment came from amazon.com yesterday: The Lego Book. It is fabulous; the last word on those fascinating little plastic bricks. I got my first set in 1965 and, looking back, Lego bricks were the best toys I ever had as a child. With them I made cameras, 007 spy gear, Star Trek equipment, cities, guns, the Green Hornet's garage, underwater exploration vehicles, The Mighty Thor, high towers, free form mechanical contraptions and whatever else suited my imagination. Even better, I hauled 'em out years later and played with them with my son. (My daughters had Lego sets just for them, with distinctly feminine brick colors and designs.) What a marvellous toy!

Back in Beautiful Downtown Burbank, I found images of Dr. David Burbank's parents! His father looks like an elderly Ray Milland.

Have a great three day weekend!

14 Jan 2010

Big doins' in my hometown of Burbank (CA) earlier this week: the unveiling and dedication of the Dr. David Burbank statue at the new Five Points Park. My pal Mike - roaming photo journalist - was there with his trusty point-and-shoot. As is often the case in town, the occasion had some controversy, however. The Burbank Leader mentions what I think: this statue doesn't look much like Dr. David Burbank! "Officials have also brushed off repeated criticism that the statue bears little resemblance to David Burbank, maintaining that it is meant to serve as an artistic representation rather than a photographic image." Hmmmm. Yeah, okay... sounds like an artistic cop out.

The question arises, what did Dr. Burbank (1821-1895) look like? I have a few images - click here and scroll down just a little. The image everyone knows is the 1885 one, which has been enshined in history books and pamphlets again and again. The statue was reportedly taken from this image. Is this the same man? Again, hmmm.

Whether the statue is a good likeness or not, you'd think they would have at least looked up the word "memento" in a dictionary before casting it in bronze...

I like the statue because the city founder is facing my high school - Burbank High - and turning his back on our crosstown rivals, Burroughs High. Very cool.

I did some more work on my living room hardwood floor last night. Cari's new brass registers look great!

I watched "Rawhide" (1951) last night, a ho-hum Tyrone Power/Susan Hayward film considerably enlivened by the looks and presence of longtime character baddie Jack Elam. Elam's looks are impossible to ignore. When he first appears in this film, he's standing in the foreground for a prolonged period of time, the director obviously enjoying giving the audience a good look at the now famous lazy eye and malevolent grin. (Here he is as a younger man in 1951.) I bet with some 1951 audiences you could hear people going "Ewwww," in the same way they would in 1980 when Shelley Duvall was shown in a close up whining at Jack Nicholson in "the Shining."

Later on in the film he shoots at a toddler and kills everyone in the film save the two stars... you don't get roles like that very often!

His eye is the result of an accidental stabbing - a Boy Scout throwing a pencil at him in a troop meeting!

In real life Elam was reputed to be a lot of fun to be around and had some great stories.

And yes, it's true, if you see this thread in my blogs: modern actors = crap. classic actors = interesting.

I was exchanging some e-mail with a reader about the habit of using Photoshop to clean up images - removing people you don't want, getting rid of distracting stuff in the background, etc. I do this all the time. Here's a recent example with a shot of my daughter and son-in-law. (Even better, I got a National Cathedral smushed penny to go with the image.) Photoshop has made my scrapbooks look a whole lot better...

That's all for today!

13 Jan 2010

I'm feeling pressured lately. A fellow just got his childhood reminiscences published; he was kind enough to list me on the dedication as a source of inspiration (via my Avocado Memories website). So... how come I haven't gotten my "Avocado Memories" published yet? Oh, hardwood flooring, piano, a Webelos Den (occupying a bunch of ten year old boys for an hour each week requires some thought), raising kids, rugby, etc. have all gotten in the way through the years. My Number One effort for 2010, finding a new job, hasn't even yet gotten off the ground. And I've got a ton of photos from a recent dedication of a Burbank memorial that I need to format and post...

There are too many irons in the fire.

I posted a photo of Burbank's legendary Hotel Savoy to Burbankia. You could see this place from I-5 as you pulled into town - there was a malfunctioning neon sign that read, "Hotel for Men." Indeed. No self-respecting female would be caught dead anywhere near the place.

I recall visiting the lobby, once, c. 1972. I had to run in to use the public phone or something, I forget. The lobby was remarkably decrepit - almost as if a talented set director decided that he wanted as squalid a scene as possible. Various tired and hopeless middle-aged men were lounging around reading the racing tip sheets, smoking, etc. The place smelled. Honestly, the lobby of the Savoy looked like a set for a movie about a skid row district.

In the Museum of Modern Art on the D.C. Mall is an interesting work... it's tucked away behind a wall and rather hard to find. I wish I knew the name of it, or the artist's name; I can't seem to find it on the gallery's web site.

Anyway, it's an assembly of objects within a small room of a condemned hotel. I think the room was lifted directly from the hotel when it was demolished. Three men are in various poses, preoccupied with doing nothing. There's a dirty kitchen table, a filthy sink, shaving items can be seen. Old paperback books are on a shelf. It's repulsive and the whole thing just screams of despair.

Reading the plaque, the artist's intent was to show the isolated and joyless existence of men growing old in the city. He succeeded. When I first saw it I thought, "The Savoy in Burbank!" And then my darker and more pessimistic side said, in a whisper, "This would be you, were it not for a marriage and an education. Perhaps you may yet end up like this."

I sometimes wonder if I watch too many films noir.

Back to Burbank: I have a small collection of images purported to be of Dr. David Burbank, the city's founder. I am wondering if these are all of the same man. (Click here, scroll down a little.) The recently dedicated monument to the man uses an image that is not the one everyone is used to seeing. I am wondering if it is really the right guy. It wouldn't be inconceivable for the city to erect a monument to the wrong guy. After all, they misspelled "memento" on a plaque...

12 Jan 2010

I had a rare moment of consumer weakness last night while we were at the grocery store. I had to have a small case of Pepsi Throwback. ("Throwback": A product line that reverts to using sugar rather than high fructose corn syrup as the sweetener. Click here.) And they also use the original artwork, which I find attractive. I normally don't drink Pepsi at all, but was sucked into it by the whole "back to the past" aspect of the marketing. I am so ashamed of myself...

I haven't had my first can yet, but I have a good idea of how it tastes. Every now and then I'll have a Mexican Coke, which is also made with sugar. It tastes better than the corn syrup blend.

We did some more hardwood flooring last night. We're almost done with the living room.

Oh, good grief. Pull it together, people.

I have a piano lesson tonight, after a few weeks off because of visiting kids and hardwood flooring. I'm becoming more fluent with the three pieces I have but, as always, could use more practice... It's kind of hard right now. After hours of crawling around on the floor putting down boards all I really feel like doing is collapsing in front of the TV with a film noir.

Last night's was a Western-noir hybrid, "Man in the Shadow" (1957), wherein Orson Welles plays a land tycoon/tyrant and Jeff Chandler (shown above) is the lawman sworn to do his duty, which this time involves leading a politically inexpedient murder investigation. Not an especially good film but not a bad one. But at least there were no whale harpoons brought to gunfights.

I've managed to avoid most of Jeff Chandler's films. Born Ira Grossel to Jewish parents, he somehow managed to make a career out of playing Indians (he received an Academy Award nomination for this!) and tough guys in Westerns. Only in the Fifties.

He died in 1961 during a botched surgery. In his wikipedia article is this curious statement: "He was romantically linked with Esther Williams, who claimed in her 1999 autobiography that she broke off the relationship when she discovered that Chandler was a cross-dresser."

11 Jan 2010

I had a great weekend!

It began with dinner in Alexandria with my wife; we then drove to the Kennedy Center for the concert. Leonard Slatkin's reading of Gustav Holst's "Planets" suite was brisk - his tempi in this piece tended to be fast. As I predicted, "Mars, the Bringer of War" was stirring and just plain fun to listen to. One problem: I couldn't hear the organ in the organ parts. There was a fellow playing - we could see the console on the stage - but we couldn't hear the instrument. A pity.

I found a new appreciation for the second movement, entitled "Venus, the Bringer of Peace." For me it was always just the movement after Mars, but hearing it live emphasized what really nice, subtle string tone it has. "Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity" of course, highlights what a modern symphonic orchestra is capable of. It just sparkles. There are tambourines in it (the entire suite calls for a very large orchestra; this piece is known for its sonorities) and I wondered how one notates shakes and hits on a sheet of music.

The real curiosity was the final movement, "Neptune, the Mystic." Normally there's a wordless women's choir singing in that one - and there was in the live performance - but we couldn't see 'em. Nobody was in the chorister behind the orchestra. A minor disappointment. (This review of the evening states that they were offstage.) During this piece Slatkin had the lights fade in the house until the last bits of the piece faded away - which was a novelty. I told my wife that Slatkin can be tricky and unpredictable...

As for the Elgar violin concerto, which I had never heard, I liked the final movement, which had some curious strummed string parts.

We got a lot done putting down the hardwood floor in the living room. I'm sore. Scooting around on the flooring is painful work - even when wearing knee pads. The problem is, of course, using muscles that one doesn't normally use. I certainly couldn't do flooring eight hours a day, five days a week. We have some tricky bits left - cutting around air conditioning registers and floor-mounted outlets, and the installing the finishing quarter round molding - but I'm hoping we'll be done with this room later this week. Then it's on to the next!

By the time we're done with three rooms, a hall and two closets, I think I shall be very tired of hardwood floor installation.

I attended my rugby club's banquet Saturday night. It was very gratifying to hear former teammates encourage me to get back on the pitch. ("You love me! You really love me!") And it was great to talk with them again. What's more, I was given a President's Award for twice whipping computer viruses during the year - that was unexpected. I was very quickly cut down to size, however, on Sunday when I mentioned this to a teenage rugby playing friend at church: "You got a rugby club award and you didn't even play any rugby during the year?" Well... yes. Hey, at my age you take what you get, kiddo.

Last night I watched "Terror in a Texas Town" (1958), a bizarre Western wherein Sterling Hayden (affecting, most of the time, an unconvincing Swedish dialect) brings a whale harpoon to a gunfight - and wins. One reviewer wrote, "Well call me Ishmael and blow me down - what a nutty movie!"

IMDb provides the key to the weirdness: the script was by blacklisted commie Dalton Trumbo, writing under another name. (If I had known it was by Trumbo I'd have probably blown it off.) I still laugh over his "Johnny Got His Gun," the most overwrought and inept anti-war screed, ever. An immediate casualty of World War I, the protagonist can't speak or see, and has no eyes or legs. The great majority of the action takes place in his mind. As Oscar Wilde once said about something else, "It would take a heart of stone not to laugh at it."

Sadly, an inexpert young driver scraped my VW bug convert in the church parking lot. This being church, he was at least good enough to leave a note. I take the car to the dealership to get estimates for a new quarter panel and rear bumper cover tonight or tomorrow night. My experience is that once a car's body is repaired, however, it is never quite the same.

So... it was a fun weekend (except for the scrape, of course). Lots of things with which to amuse my ADD-influenced mind which is constant need of stimulation and novelty.

Oh, I finally managed to connect the dots to figure out why there's a theatre in Los Angeles named the Burbank Theatre. A high-minded business venture by Dr. David Burbank - the fellow who founded my home town which is named after him - the place fell on harder times when it became a burlesque house and, just before it was demolished, an X-rated movie theater.

I feel certain the good doctor took no pride in having a porn theater named after him.

8 Jan 2010

I feel like we lost an old friend yesterday.

Almost since we've been married we've had this cheap little (9" tube) Montgomery Ward television in our dresser; Cari turned it on nearly every day to watch the Today Show while dressing and showering. In 2008 I bought a converter to bring it into the digital broadcast era.

Yesterday, as she emerged from the shower she smelled a burning electronic smell, and traced it to the television. Not wanting to see an electrical fire burn our house down, she unplugged it. When I got home I confirmed that, yes, the television is making a burning smell. It still works... but now it's untrustworthy. So I pitched it into the trash.

A sticker on the back says it was manufactured in February, 1982. That's almost constant use for the last 28 years - wow. That is an impressive record for a cheap television! We got it from my mother; she used to have it at the Lincoln Cafe.

I wondered aloud yesterday what a "peanut butcher" was, as stated in a 1889 newspaper article. An alert reader (do I have any other kind?) told me, and I googled the phrase. In olden days, a peanut butcher was "...the fellow who is put on trains to pester passengers to death with all sorts of readable and eatable indigestibles.” (From an old book.)

I found this in a transcript from an oral history: “So I was able to get a position as peanut butcher, that is a newsboy on the Southern Pacific train, and for a whole year I did this sort of work traveling all over the Southern Pacific from New Orleans to Portland to Oregon and on all these routes. Well I believe that that one year as peanut butcher was better then a whole at Stanford. I learned to know people, I learned to merchandise, to sell; I really think it was a wonderful experience.”

Now I know.

By the way, I posted the last of the collections of images from the 1889 Burbank Times. This assortment has a lot of funny olde-tymey advertising:

Damiana Bitters: Mexicans have famously strong procreative organs, thanks to this.

North Carolina Plug Cut: Jay Gould can keep his money. I have tobacco!

Pennyroyal Pills: "Relief for Ladies." The woman in the ad appears satisfied, anyway. Below it, what exactly does Big G cure?

Kodak: In ten minutes you can learn your part.

DEATH TO CORNS!

Kirk's German Pile Ointment: An unnervingly-named product. And more text about piles than I wanted to read, frankly.

Last night I watched one of the most oddball movies I've ever seen (and that's really saying something when you consider that I've been a Video Vault customer for the past nine years): "The World's Greatest Sinner" (1962). Written, produced and directed by one of the strangest actors in Hollywood, Timothy Carey. You can read about it here.

I will give Carey one thing: the notion of proving or disproving the existence of God by sticking pins into a sacramental wafer to see if it bleeds is a notion that had never occurred to me. To put the thing over the top, the end credits are shown with the wafer, beams of light streaming from the holes. Whew.

The film's music is by a very young Frank Zappa. However, remember I told you earlier this week that Gustav Holst's "Mars, the Bringer of War" from his Planets Suite gets badly used in many television shows and movies? The World's Greatest Sinner is no exception. Mars makes a totally bizarre appearance in it, as Carey is shown walking into a church.

My wife and I will be hearing this piece tonight in its proper setting: the Kennedy Center Concert Hall, played with all the might, power and majesty of the National Symphony Orchestra, my favorite musical instrument.

A rugby friend sent me this, asserting that rugby was safer than Civil War reenacting: Virginia Civil War dispute ends in courtroom stalemate. I think he may be right. By the way, I did the Stanardsville event only once, in 1992. It sucked. We ate at a barbeque place in town that gave me food poisoning. The Event-O-Meter needle was swinging into negative numbers on that one.

We stopped work on the Great Hardwood Flooring Project. My wife is not happy with the wood we bought. She wanted a greater variety of board lengths than we got - not all smaller pieces. So she's talking to management at Hardwood Liquidators to see what can be done about it, if anything.

Tomorrow night I attend a rugby party. This normally involves a few hours of entertaining conversation with my rugby posse until guys start to get sloshed, at which point the proceedings get sloppy. Then I exit.

Have a great weekend!

7 Jan 2010

I don't feel like I got an adequate amount of sleep last night; I feel groggy.

Anyway... Chris came by and we did some rows of hardwood flooring. This is the basis upon which we can start laying down rows more quickly.

Last night my week continued in pretty much the same way it began. I had to buy a new miter saw blade, and, while opening the stiff plastic package, jammed the plastic under a fingernail. Ow - it still hurts. Perhaps I'll finish off the week by sawing off some fingers or something... Geez...

I also posted some more excerpts from the Burbank Times of 1889. Reading the editor's little notes, I see that those were certainly slower-paced, less complicated times. For instance, the town couldn't even enjoy a good bank robbery - no banks. (Burbank didn't even have a cemetery in 1889.) The weather was always a good source of comment. ("People always talk about the weather but nobody ever does anything about it." - Mark Twain) And I'm guessing that E.W. Moore's brother was a good-looking guy.

E. B. Flack's finger was noteworthy. That's the kind of newspaper for me - the kind of thing where somebody's mashed finger was news. I have often desired to write little daily articles for such a paper. (But I blog instead.)

The railroad mishap was a major news item. (But what on earth is a "peanut butcher?") I have a photo of a Burbank train wreck from the early 1900's that took place not too far from where I lived. In addition to the "Well, what are you looking at?" pose of the gents, the magneto or generator is notable.

And I always get a kick out of olde-tymey humor. One of my reenacting things used to be to bring an 1860's reproduction of a Harper's Illustrated newspaper to the campfire to read aloud the "Humors of the Day" section. I would only get two responses from my fellow reenactors: Blank stares or groans.

When we're stressed, my friend Don and I occasionally comment about Willoughby, a idyllic, peaceful little town as seen by a harried executive from a commuter train in an episode of Twilight Zone. It appears that perhaps early Burbank wasn't too different from Willoughby.

6 Jan 2010

It has not been a wholly pleasant week thus far.

Helpful hint: If you need to walk in and out of your garage, raise the door all the way up. I failed to do this on Monday and concussed myself. On the way in I hit myself on the top of the head while not looking up and knocked myself to the ground. I must have been out for a few seconds because I don't recall hitting the ground. Later, my arm started hurting, and after that, my hip. I must have landed on it.

This morning there was a water leak at the Franconia-Springfield Metro. While attempting to walk through what I thought was a shallow puddle, I got both feet drenched to the socks. Not good on a 25 degree morning. So I had to drive back home and change shoes and socks, and drive back to the Metro station, negiotiating a dryer path.

Can we just go back to 24 December, please?

I've been doing postings of some 1889 Burbank newspapers lately. This has been an enlightening experience, reading about what very small town life was life in Southern California back then. For instance, in 1889 "a gang of Chinamen" were harvesting wild horehound in the river bottom below the Ostrich Farm (wherever that was). The dried leaves were used as a cough remedy. There were thousands of tons of wild horehound in Burbank, once upon a time. Now there's pavement.

Made some more progress last night in the Great Hardwood Flooring Project. Maybe by the end of the week we'll be done with the living room.

I got a DVD collection of the 1968 BBC Peter Cushing Sherlock Holmes productions for Christmas... they're not bad. Nowhere as good as the 1980's Jeremy Brett productions, however, which I think are definitive.

People have been telling me that the current Robert Downey Jr. Holmes film is good. No, thanks. It's a modern, Hollywood production with a major star - hence, I probably wouldn't like it. Explosions, CGI, perky feminist-approved female protagonists and PC are not my style - I'll stick with the Brett versions. Why mess with perfection?

5 Jan 2010

One of the things I did over the Christmas break was to play a Steinway at the Steinway store in Tyson's Corner. It was a $58,000 baby grand - used! To say that it played and sounded better than my $200 spinet is to state the obvious.

When they say that a piano is affected by changes in humidity and temperature, they're not kidding. Because we had people sleeping in the basement level where the piano is located, we changed the thermostat settings and vent controls to allow more heat. This altered the tuning of the piano. One evening as I practiced I hit the D below middle C and it produced a horrendous tone; clearly one of the three strings had moved out of tune. This has since corrected itself - but now I'm having tuning problems with the E below middle C. Wow.

Note to self: If I ever get a better instrument it belongs on an upper floor, where the temperature is more stable. And if I get a grand of any kind, we're getting a home humidifier.

I watched a funny little noir the other day, "Christmas Holiday" (1944) starring Gene Kelly. Yes, a real film noir can have the word "Christmas" in the title and star Gene Kelly. It also starred Deanna Durbin, who, prior to this film, kept getting adolescent/schoolgirl parts in films. In this one she plays a prostitute - which is one way to break out of the mold, I suppose.

Because of the Hays Code, sexuality in films noir during the classic period (1940-1955) is always subject to some guesswork about clues and implied statements. You have to pay attention. (For instance, in the Maltese Falcon one character is given away by a scented note and a sort of "whoo whoo" in the background score.) For instance, in this film it's clear that Gene Kelly's character is meant to be a mama's boy, but it could also be interpreted that he's gay, with an obsession in the rough trade of the gambling world.

Or perhaps I just suspect he's gay because he's wearing a bow tie...

Anyway, it wasn't a top notch film noir, but now I can say I've seen it. I've known about it for years.

Tonight I plan to lay down the matting and nail down the first boards in my hardwood floor project, which starts with the living room. This will be a major distraction in January... when we're done we'll have new floors in the living room, dining room, office and two closets - and a lot of dust kicked up. I hope to get my Hardwood Floor Installation merit badge to go with the Crown Molding one I got last January.

I bought the latest Harry Potter DVD - "the Half-Blood Prince" - over the holidays. I thought this was a much better film than the previous one. One of the things I enjoy doing is going through some of the scenes in slow motion, namely the ones with the wonderfully detailed interiors. In the latest film, the Weasley Twins' magic shop is depicted (see image above), and you really do need to go through that sequence nearly frame by frame to appreciate all the detail that the set directors crammed into it. Amazing. The entire sequence is perhaps only a couple of minutes long, but it looks just wonderful - which, okay, I will grant, is one thing that good modern film making has over the classic films I so often enjoy.

Another interesting sequence was the three death-eaters' attack on London's Millennium Bridge (which Meredith and I crossed last March) and the destruction of Ollivander's Wand Shop. I know enough about London to be familiar with the general locations of some of the shots, but I wish I knew the topography better to identify which wall is supposed to be the magical entrance to Diagon Alley. That would be a fun bit of detective work... (that probably exists somewhere on the Internet).

4 Jan 2010

First day "back" at work (I'm telecommuting); my Christmas break is now officially over. Ten and a half days away from the drudgery of my so-called career - I am so bummed out it's over.

I'm taking Meredith to the airport this morning... that's my last kid out of the house. We return to the empty nest. As I am a neat freak and my kids certainly are not, I'm kind of glad. (I hate clutter in my house.) But, on the other hand, I really like having them around. BQH Syndrome (big quiet house).

Speaking of the house, I have now begun the Great Hardwood Flooring Project of 2010. Of course there are are photos. With some luck and dedicated work I'll have the living room completed by the weekend.

Mark Stevens' "Atomic Antiques." Interesting stuff from a variety of decades.

I got a really nice after Christmas Christmas present a few days ago. Michael F. Keaney is a friend of mine who wrote a couple of film noir encyclopedias. He watched 700+ films in order to write the book and has an extensive videotape collection. He made available to me many of these - most of which I have not seen. Cool! I won't be renting any videos for quite a while...

"FBI Girl" (1951), which I saw the other night, was pretty good. It had Raymond Burr as a heavy and a few sequences with Mormon-born pin-up girl Joi Lansing. Although she did shots in bikinis and scanty attire, she never appeared nude.

Col legno - that's what it's called when a violinist strikes the strings with the stick of his bow. We'll be hearing that Friday night when we go to hear the NSO play Holst's The Planets Suite, because that's how the stirring "Mars, the Bringer of War" begins. You've heard this piece before; it is played and misused often. (For one, unimaginative Civil War reenactment video producers use it all the time.)

Leonard Slatkin, the former conductor of the NSO, will return to conduct. Hooray! I miss him. His concerts were always imaginative and somewhat daring.

The other piece to be played is the Edward Elgar violin concerto - played on the very same Guarnarius violin that Fritz Kreisler used to premiere it 100 years ago. Neat!

1 Jan 2010

There are times I wonder if I should be taking anti-depressants.

2010: The Year We Make Contact. Yeah, right.

We got up at 4 AM to get my daughter and son-in-law to BWI at 5:30; they boarded on time and arrived safely and without incident in Salt Lake City. Hooray! We got home and went back to bed.

I got the tree down today, and put away all the ornaments and Christmas trappings as is my wont on the first day of January. I'm driven to it...

The day is gray and gloomy. In fact, it reminds me of the setting in the early Sixties Vincent Price "Fall of the House of Usher" production.

My poor wife is in bed sick with a head cold. She's reading a book ("Pink Ribbon, Inc.") about how corporations use breast cancer awareness donations to fleece the public. That's got to help her feel better. It certainly would lift my spirits.

So I'm cleaning out the ashes in the fireplace (a lot of outdated stuff I inherited when I took over the Webelos den) when my mantel clock chimed, as it always does - a Westminster chime. But this time I heard:

See how time flies!

It creeps so sly!

Your day draws neigh!

Die-die-die-die....

Geez. Normally when I make up lyrics to familiar melodies they're vulgar and whimsical, not depressing.

I guess I'm gloomy because another set of kids left the house.

The Christmas photo collection is here; some 31 December shots were added. I don't think I'll add any more to it.

Brigham's Blog