The Far Away Fella

The following story is trotted out by this author every time I create a blog and every time I post it, I'm compelled to reread it and make changes, cursing myself for what I view as less than perfect work. This year, I have made no changes. This is one of the finest things I've written and I'm unabashedly proud of it. In and between its lines are all the truths about what's good in human beings and, given the environment in which we currently find ourselves wandering around, the author likes to think everyone has these qualities in abundance. Merry Christmas By Anthony Simone © 2009 It was 8:45 when I got there and I wasn’t sure if I’d have time enough to do it. See Santa, I mean. In Macy’s. Yeah, the one on 34th Street. From the movie (and not that lousy remake for TV, either). It was chilly, too, given that it was Santa’s first day for this year’s New York gig. Under-dressed for the weather but determined to see Santa, I hustled up the escalator (no eleva

We learned today that Mariss Jansons, a long-time music director of the Bavarian Radio Symphony, and before that the Oslo Philharmonic, has died at the age of 76. For those of you who don't know who Jansons was (and remains, through his recordings and broadcasts), I can tell you that he was one of the finest conductors of the last 50 years, almost entirely in the concert hall, although he did make occasional forays into opera. Jansons came by conducting through heredity, having been the son of Arvid Jansons, himself an extraordinary maestro. Arvid was Mariss's first teacher and, unfortunately, also passed on to his son a bad heart, which was the cause of death for them both. Jansons was a Latvian, and grew up under the yoke of first the Nazis and then the Soviets, before deciding to become a musician. Jansons's first mentors were two giants of the podium, Yevgeny Mravinsky in (then) Leningrad and Herbert von Karajan in Berlin. He managed a successful synthesis of two

There are a lot of sad dogs and cats in Carmel, California and sad horses in Murchison, TX. They all lost their best friend today. Good taste in popular music lost a friend today, the community of superb actresses lost a friend today. The world of great dancing lost a friend today. One of the most beautiful and kind women I have ever met left this place today. And I lost a friend today. Not a close friend, really more of an acquaintance. I met her once, spoke with her over the phone many times and contributed some hefty sums to her charitable work, a passion for which I share, and I admired her tremendously for her gifts, good taste, and exceptional mentality. She hadn't starred in a picture since 1968; was last on a television show in 1975, and made her last recording in 1985. For many years she avoided the limelight and the public, except for some that would travel to see her, call her on her birthday, and vainly hope that she'd at least make another recording. Blonde (

Something Count Basie would say when the band was asked to play it again, and they always did play it again. I've had three of these blog things and ended up taking them down after a while, mainly because I wasn't happy with what I wrote and partly to punish myself for having the unbridled nerve to expose real feeling and emotion, other than anger, which seems to be the prevalent emotion of the 21st century. This time, I anticipate it will be different. A little different, not too much, because there is a great deal to write about and, like Willy Sutton's reason for robbing banks (look it up), it seems perfectly natural for me to do what I enjoy doing. It's fun. Fun. You remember fun, don't you? Writing for me is fun. There are many things that I believe are fun, some of which others don't believe are thus, but as a rule, those folks don't generally have much fun. They are, as Mrs. Banks sang so memorably (watch the movie), "as a group, rather stupi