Culture – Page 27 – Don't Gel Too Soon

GETTING EXCITED FOR BLOGHER

Boy is this getting exciting! I’ve been on real deadline rollercoaster and will continue to be but seeing BlogHer at the end of the tunnel makes the journey easier. If you haven’t gone in the past, I’d give it a try – last year was a real blast. Here are a couple of photos from then – just to inspire you (Oh and this is not a commercial; no one asked me to write this…) I think I downloaded most of them from Flickr so they’re borrowed – but fun.

Here’s Cooper Monroe (Been There and The Motherhood), Jenny Lauck (Three Kid Circus) and Mary Tsao (Mom Writes)

Posting during lunch.

Come on – it’s really fun and Chicago is a beautiful city. More here.

WAY BACK IN EAST BERLIN AT STASI HQ

This is the headquarters of the East German Security Forces – STASI. It’s now a museum. We went there today in an appropriately grey, rainy day. We left the brightly lit neighborhood where we’re staying and took the U Bahn (subway). The exit from the station was breathtaking. Literally. I’d been all over East Germany, in Dresden, East Berlin and all the little towns along the way as well as in both Prague and Budapest — on several occasions before the Wall fell. I know more than most Americans about the grossness of life for the people trapped there for so many years.

Somehow though – after leaving funky Prenzlauer Berg – and even the U Bahn station with its neon and magazine stands and climbing the stairs to find – the past – was stunning. This part of Berlin is still as it was – lines of grey, sterile, tall apartment blocks. Each looking like the end of the line. No signs. No ads. No nothing. You walk a block and go into a parking lot, up a little rise and there’s the building in this photo.

Enter and its shabby and grey. Here’s whose statue is in the lobby.

Yup it’s Karl Marx – but this time he’s a small copy and here to remind us what used to be. And what used to be is pretty bad. I wish I could explain what it felt like to wander the halls where these men (it was mostly men) dominated and terrorized generations of East German citizens. To see truncheons and vans that travelled day and night with receivers to pick up random conversations – and photos of sweeps and arrests – and of this cell.

Now remember, I’m an old leftie myself. I wish the world could allow people to give what they can and receive what they need. But this is not what was happening here. Not at all. Fear was the dominant value – and conformity to prevent any threat to the state. Walking around looking in those bland offices and at the room after room of photos and documents had far more impact than even atrocity stories about the period. Because if you’ve been around eastern Europe before 1990 you knew the weight on your heart; you could feel the thickness in the air. And it was from this place that enforcement of that weight emanated. The museum not a fancy place and I don’t think much visited but if you come to Berlin (and you’ll love it here) come here. It’s a deeply disturbing reminder of what people are capable of doing and of how they always call it something else when they’re doing it. We had lots of thoughts about what’s happening at home now in relation to this – but that’s a conversation for another day.

And here’s a little bonus – the view out the double decker top deck on a bus later in the day — in a more liveable part of what was the East, in the same rain…..

Chuppas, Kallahs and Spiderman

Today I went to a wedding – the first in the new building donated to the Ronald S. Lauder Foundation for its work helping to rebuild Berlin’s Jewish community. This is the bride (Kallah) and groom. Here are a couple more:

The bedeken – where the groom lowers the veil over his wife-to-be’s face in recognition of the ploy that led to Jacob’s marriage to Leah when he thought he was marrying his beloved Rachel —

Men dancing in celebration.

This was the first Orthodox wedding I’ve ever attended – and since almost everyone was from someplace in Eastern Europe- especially Russia, – it had an exotic flavor anyway. I have lots to say about it but I wanted to post the photos now because I have to think a bit about how to describe the intense feelings it evoked.

Strangely – we decided this evening to go see SPIDER-MAN 3 in German, since it wasn’t playing in English except way downtown. It was just such an interesting contrast – a quiet reverence and sense of something sacred at the wedding, and brash, crashing violence and special effects at the movies. I speak almost no German yet only had to ask Rick what was happening maybe 2-3 times since almost none of the exposition was verbal. It does make you wonder how to understand one’s modern self as respect for old, old traditions grows with understanding.

I’m grateful for days like today, when my life lives up to the title of this blog — never gel. “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Another, more attractive (at least to me) movie hero said that….

IT WAS [ALMOST] 20 YEARS AGO TODAY….

Around seventeen years ago this playground, built by the parents of Prenzlauer Berg, then part of the Soviet-dominated East Berlin, opened. Just a little while later Rick and I came upon it. We usually spent much of our time in Berlin in the East, and still do. It was a cold day, and in the home-made fireplace a bright fire burned. Kids were running, climbing, and having a wonderful time in this very low-tech “adventure playground.”

It’s still here, still low-tech and still much-beloved. It’s always meant a lot to me; it was very dramatic to cross into the East, see trees growing from the roof of the decimated central Synagogue, see a wall right across the very beat-up Brandenberg Gate (which now looks like this by the way) and to know that the people whose children played here were trapped, and, much of the time, scared. That they were able to create this for their kids in the middle of it all was inspiring. So, tired and not really up for a serious narrative tonight – I offer you this lovely little place – still loved by parents and kids alike – and probably, among those kids, some whose parents were playing there when we first visited. Goodnight.

THE ADVENTURE THAT IS BERLIN

That’s the door to the apartment we stay in when we’re in Berlin (oh – we’re in Berlin.) It’s in a part of town that was far into East Berlin when the Wall divided the city and the magnificent old buildings were devastated by neglect. Slowly, building by building, that’s been changing in the years we’ve been coming here. It’s quite thrilling to see.

This neighborhood, Prenzlauer Berg, is kind of like Soho was in the 70’s — pioneers, cool galleries and an amazing yarn store, more people on bicycles than in cars (though that’s changing) and an air of expectation, thought and excitement. It’s a joy to be a (pretend) part of it in our little weekly rental.
I want to tell you all about it – the way this city puts your brain into overdrive, the restaurant a block away where President Bill Clinton turned the town upside down by coming to dinner, the parent- created playground, the fancy apartment house that used to be a Gestapo HQ – but I’ve been up for 24+ hours so all that will have to wait. We’re here and it’s cool to be here and I’ll share as much of it as I can over these next few days. OH – and for all my Jewish friends who “will never go to Germany” – I respect your feelings but one of the most exciting things happening here is the re-creation of a young, vibrant Jewish community by Jews determined to go past the Holocaust and take their rightful place. More on that later, too.

WILL YOU STILL NEED ME, WILL YOU STILL….??

Saturday night we went to my friend Rona’s 60th birthday party in LA. The photo is me, Rona and our Today Show colleague Coby. It was really fun – how often does Famous Amos bake you cookies and Brian Wilson sing to you on a Bel Air tennis court turned party heaven? How often do you see photos of yourself, your friend and your husband at Today Show shoots and crazy parties? And how often, in the unexpected chill of an April Los Angeles evening, do you see a pile of blankets for guests that includes the one you made their now 14-year-old son when he was born?

I’ve written about Rona before but Saturday night was a real reminder of the nature of a gifted friend. She asked everyone to stand up. Those who knew her 5 years or less, sit down. Then ten years. Then fifteen. We were feeling pretty cocky since we were in the 20 years or less category – until we saw how many people – from New York, DC, Hawaii, San Francisco, LA and God knows where else – were standing at 30 – and even 40 years! And Rick and I knew many of them; we’d been to birthday parties or holiday events or just dinner with them over the years. I once heard someone quote Wendy Wasserstein as saying that you could judge someone’s character by how well they kept their friends. In that as in so many other ways she was a star.

On the tables were CDs for all of us – with a photo of her at Woodstock on the cover (one that I’d used in our 20 year anniversary piece (it was really great) to close it out. Sunday I was driving around LA while my husband was at his conference so I stuck the CD into the player. The next thing I knew I was driving down the 10 Freeway in tears — not sweet little showers but huge wracking sobs. Not really sadness, it was more a recognition of all the treasured time that has passed – of how much I loved so much of it and how real it still feels to me. I’ve never read Remembrance of Things Past but I’m told that the entire epic emerges from memories evoked from the smell of a Madeline (a kind of French cookie – they sell them at Starbucks I think.)

Well each song – Van Morrison or Bob Dylan or Paul Simon or Marvin Gaye took me someplace. The thing is – sad as I was, I was also absurdly grateful to have the memories and moments so powerfully evoked by the music. Not until I hit 60 did I realize you really DO get older – that some things are in the past for good. When the music is there, though, nothing's really gone. Memories and senses arise in all their glory and float me back where I came from. Not for long – and not entirely – but enough to remind me of the privileges of my life and the wonders of life itself. Corny but oh so true – music brings the gift of memory and joy. Yet another thing to thank birthday girl Rona for adding to my life. Happy birthday one more time, my sister.

PARDON ME, DO YOU THINK THE WEB CAN CHANGE THE WORLD?

I began my day at the plenary session of one of my favorite conferences –NTEN — The Nonprofit Technology Network. It’s a gathering of mostly non-profit activists who use the web to enhance their work. They are sharp, committed and fun.

The main session this morning was off the charts: David Weinberger, from Harvard’s Berkman Center for the Internet and Society. He nay be the best speaker I ever heard – certainly one of the best. Of course he’s funny and sometimes outraged – both very good things — but he also offers really thrilling analysis of our lives online and the role of each of us in making the Web what it is, and what it will be. Read more about him from another admirer, at the conference blog.

I also popped in at "Using Technology to Support Your Mission." Very cool but it turned out to be techier than I wanted, so wandered around running into people. This community is so vibrant and purposeful that it’s a wonderful place to hang around. These are people who don’t think the web can change the world, they know it has.

By the way, beyond what I’m learning in sessions, I can tell you what’s hot by the sessions I couldn’t even get into: The Age of YouTube: Using Video Online to Reach the Masses and Leveraging the Power of Participatory Media. Fortunately the YouTube one, at least, was videoed and will appear on the NTEN website where we can attend without sitting in a corner on the floor and sweating from the major body heat surrounding each of us.

Even so, in all it was a great day; sorry this report is so brief. More tomorrow.

CALLING ALL NEWS JUNKIES

It’s almost Shabbat and I only have a second but if you’re hanging around the web this weekend don’t miss this. It’s the newest Jib Jab video and will tell you all you need to know about why I went from TV to the web. Happy Passover!

ROCK HALL OF FAME: PEOPLE HAVE THE POWER

Monday night Patti Smith was among those inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. As I’ve written in the past, I’ve attended a few inductions and they are high on the list of great experiences and remind us (as if we needed it) of the power of the music — a topic I’ve been discussing recently.

This remarkable poet, who wrote Peaceable Kingdom – a mournful memory of her husband, who died of heart disease way too soon, and the anthem People Have the Power, can move us, then generate anger and provoke action. Listen to these – these are iTunes links: Peaceable Kingdom and People Have the Power. As different as they can be and each inspiring, moving and unforgettable.

Smith wrote in the New York Times that she had been ambivalent about the award – this independent spirit wasn’t certain she wanted to treat her art in this way. I’m including the whole piece here because it will soon go behind the Times "wall." Just see what sort of person has just been honored – and join me in my high respect and affection for this remarkable artist.

ON a cold morning in 1955, walking to Sunday school, I was drawn to the voice of Little Richard wailing “Tutti Frutti” from the interior of a local boy’s makeshift clubhouse. So powerful was the connection that I let go of my mother’s hand.

Rock ’n’ roll. It drew me from my path to a sea of possibilities. It sheltered and shattered me, from the end of childhood through a painful adolescence. I had my first altercation with my father when the Rolling Stones made their debut on “The Ed Sullivan Show.” Rock ’n’ roll was mine to defend. It strengthened my hand and gave me a sense of tribe as I boarded a bus from South Jersey to freedom in 1967.

Rock ’n’ roll, at that time, was a fusion of intimacies. Repression bloomed into rapture like raging weeds shooting through cracks in the cement. Our music provided a sense of communal activism. Our artists provoked our ascension into awareness as we ran amok in a frenzied state of grace.

My late husband, Fred Sonic Smith, then of Detroit’s MC5, was a part of the brotherhood instrumental in forging a revolution: seeking to save the world with love and the electric guitar. He created aural autonomy yet did not have the constitution to survive all the complexities of existence.

Before he died, in the winter of 1994, he counseled me to continue working. He believed that one day I would be recognized for my efforts and though I protested, he quietly asked me to accept what was bestowed — gracefully — in his name.

Today I will join R.E.M., the Ronettes, Van Halen and Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. On the eve of this event I asked myself many questions. Should an artist working within the revolutionary landscape of rock accept laurels from an institution? Should laurels be offered? Am I a worthy recipient?

I have wrestled with these questions and my conscience leads me back to Fred and those like him — the maverick souls who may never be afforded such honors. Thus in his name I will accept with gratitude. Fred Sonic Smith was of the people, and I am none but him: one who has loved rock ’n’ roll and crawled from the ranks to the stage, to salute history and plant seeds for the erratic magic landscape of the new guard.

Because its members will be the guardians of our cultural voice. The Internet is their CBGB. Their territory is global. They will dictate how they want to create and disseminate their work. They will, in time, make breathless changes in our political process. They have the technology to unite and create a new party, to be vigilant in their choice of candidates, unfettered by corporate pressure. Their potential power to form and reform is unprecedented.

Human history abounds with idealistic movements that rise, then fall in disarray. The children of light. The journey to the East. The summer of love. The season of grunge. But just as we seem to repeat our follies, we also abide.

Rock ’n’ roll drew me from my mother’s hand and led me to experience. In the end it was my neighbors who put everything in perspective. An approving nod from the old Italian woman who sells me pasta. A high five from the postman. An embrace from the notary and his wife. And a shout from the sanitation man driving down my street: “Hey, Patti, Hall of Fame. One for us.”

BLAME IT ON THE ROLLING STONES

Here I am, working in my office with the TV on for company. It’s behind me on a filing cabinet so mostly I’m really listening. And I hear "Christmas, Christmas time is here, time for joy and time for cheer…" It’s Alvin and the Chipmunks – the sped-up voices singing every December since I was in junior high – and they’re singing now because they accompany the opening credits of ALMOST FAMOUS — Cameron Crowe’s wonderful film about an aspiring rock journalist who wrote for ROLLING STONE, and it has emerged on TBS.

Immediately I’m transported back to the "community room" of Thomas Jefferson High School on Route 51, 6 miles south of Pittsburgh. Sock hops. Standing along the wall waiting for someone to ask you to dance. Crying in the girls’ room when they didn’t. Driving around for hours in Barbara Morton’s dad’s convertible listening to our "Daddio of the Raddio" Porky Chedwick.

Beyond it all, the transporting power of the music. It’s actually kind of weird; this week I was in a Torah class studying ancient rules about when men are, or are not, permitted to listen to a woman’s voice. The rules are very different for the singing voice than for the speaking voice. Yeah – both of them are a bit peculiar but it is fascinating that as long as people (mostly men) have been thinking about these things. they’ve been aware of the power of music to distract, seduce, inspire and arouse.

However disturbing it may be to learn that our long-ago sisters, in all cultures, not just Jewish ones, were isolated because of the perceived dangers of what might arise between women and men if relationships were allowed to emerge, they weren’t wrong about the underlying power of the music.

The theory — at least one — was that listening to a woman’s voice, asking how she is, even, could lead to dangerous interactions. I’m not here right now to discuss this topic, but to observe that as long as man has been making music it has been seen as dangerous and seductive.

Nothing too profound, but it’s Saturday night. What do you want?