Friday, May 10, 2013
On technology
Earlier today, I posted in this space about some difficulties I'm running into with what are known as essential familial tremors. While I'm done speaking upon that particular topic, I want to take a minute or two to discuss some the things that technology is made available to us to help make life a little more normal for folks with troubles like mine.
Voice to text technology is not new; it has, however, been rife with difficulties. Central among those has been the ability of the technology to understand regional dialects, accents, and the general differences in the way each of us individually speaks. While I am reluctant to turn this space into an infomercial, I have been absolutely delighted with some software that I recently picked up from the folks at Dragon. With just a little bit of time taken for the software to adjust to my voice, I am able to write things like this post in a matter of minutes, rather than the hours it would take if I had to type this by hand.
This makes me more productive, more responsive, and allows me to reengage the world socially better than I had possibly expected. I had really feared that these tremors were going to keep me from wasting your time in this space forever. Happily, it appears that I'm wrong.
I've always been a bit of a geek, so I guess I don't really understand why I am so surprised at the effectiveness of this. Which leads me to the wonders of technology in general. It's been said many times before; change is ongoing, change is inevitable, and change is good. Resisting change, whether in politics, in technology, or in life in general, will get you nowhere. Embrace it, roll with it, or get out of the way.For example, I recently purchased a new laptop running Windows 8. As a long time Windows user, I find the new operating system to be a monumental pain in the ass. Windows open and close, seemingly on their own, and I find myself redoing things over and over. In the spirit of embracing change, however, I am getting better at it. In other words, get over it, scribe.
With all of that said, this makes it three rants in one day in this space. That's enough.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
On Music
"Flesh fades, and mortal trash falls to the residuary worm; you and I might as well rock and roll. - Lin Brehmer
***********
The Reverend of Rock 'n Roll guided my life in a very odd way from 1977 to 1983 or so. At that time, WQBK-FM dominated the airwaves for young listeners of hip rock 'n roll. I considered my ownself one of those folks.
Every Wednesday at Five O'clock in those days. Lin Brehmer of Q-104 FM would conduct the "Hump Day Unusual Moment". He would present some mishmash of audio nonsense designed to ease the angst of his listeners; most of the time it worked. This became a serious highlight of my week, no joke; at 22 or so, I was focusing the entire day around this. The killer was, the guy delivering it at the time was maybe 26. The difference? He was GOOD.
In June of 1982, I was 22 years old, and just starting a now 29-year-long career with Mother Bell. I had just completed a truly lousy day, one which made me really wonder whether or not I would follow my Dad's footsteps in the phone company. I get into the car, leave the parking lot just in time to have JUST missed the unusual moment. I am irked, and not much is helping. The Rev then comes through, with Side 2 of "Terrapin Station" in its entirety, as a salve to my anxiety. Nineteen minutes of the Dead, just what I needed, at just the right time.
********
Nowadays, Lin Brehmer is one of the foremost DJs in the country, with gazillions of listeners on WXRT-FM in Chicago. He is an honest-to-God media fixture there, and that is truly wonderful. I get the chance to listen to his work every now and again on the Internet, and I am delighted he has enjoyed the success he has. Like I said, he's GOOD.
*********
Music is, to someone of my lifetime, a considerable influence. Those who can truly play are to be admired; I hack about on a guitar badly enough for any two people. For those of us of a certain age, the music of our times is just "noise", according to our parents; for those of us who are parents ourselves, I hope to God we have progressed to the point where we appreciate that we have before us.
Music in an influence on the lives of those who have been born after 1950; it just is. It is for those born before that as well, but for those of us born in the rock 'n roll era, music holds a special significance. Personally, I listen to all kinds of music, from rock to soul, to everything in between.
***********
The Reverend of Rock 'n Roll guided my life in a very odd way from 1977 to 1983 or so. At that time, WQBK-FM dominated the airwaves for young listeners of hip rock 'n roll. I considered my ownself one of those folks.
Every Wednesday at Five O'clock in those days. Lin Brehmer of Q-104 FM would conduct the "Hump Day Unusual Moment". He would present some mishmash of audio nonsense designed to ease the angst of his listeners; most of the time it worked. This became a serious highlight of my week, no joke; at 22 or so, I was focusing the entire day around this. The killer was, the guy delivering it at the time was maybe 26. The difference? He was GOOD.
In June of 1982, I was 22 years old, and just starting a now 29-year-long career with Mother Bell. I had just completed a truly lousy day, one which made me really wonder whether or not I would follow my Dad's footsteps in the phone company. I get into the car, leave the parking lot just in time to have JUST missed the unusual moment. I am irked, and not much is helping. The Rev then comes through, with Side 2 of "Terrapin Station" in its entirety, as a salve to my anxiety. Nineteen minutes of the Dead, just what I needed, at just the right time.
********
Nowadays, Lin Brehmer is one of the foremost DJs in the country, with gazillions of listeners on WXRT-FM in Chicago. He is an honest-to-God media fixture there, and that is truly wonderful. I get the chance to listen to his work every now and again on the Internet, and I am delighted he has enjoyed the success he has. Like I said, he's GOOD.
*********
Music is, to someone of my lifetime, a considerable influence. Those who can truly play are to be admired; I hack about on a guitar badly enough for any two people. For those of us of a certain age, the music of our times is just "noise", according to our parents; for those of us who are parents ourselves, I hope to God we have progressed to the point where we appreciate that we have before us.
Music in an influence on the lives of those who have been born after 1950; it just is. It is for those born before that as well, but for those of us born in the rock 'n roll era, music holds a special significance. Personally, I listen to all kinds of music, from rock to soul, to everything in between.
My boys seem predisposed toward hip-hop, which I don't particularly care for, but not for parent-child reasons. Talented artists, to be certain, but I think they limit their own talents with sheer repetition. My own tastes have always run toward rhythm and melody, and I have always held a very special place for those who could tell a great story in song. Whether it's Bruce Springsteen describing the difficulties of the working man, or James Taylor going from Stockbridge to Boston, the great songwriter and lyricist has always struck me as one of the most important individuals in our society.
To me, what makes music great is its constant evolution. The cyclical nature of that evolution isn't lost upon me either. What once was old becomes new again and does so almost every day.
So what's the point of all of this? Not much of one, really. Simply one man's exhortation to, as the Doobie Brothers said, "listen to the music".
Until next time,
Excelsior!
To me, what makes music great is its constant evolution. The cyclical nature of that evolution isn't lost upon me either. What once was old becomes new again and does so almost every day.
So what's the point of all of this? Not much of one, really. Simply one man's exhortation to, as the Doobie Brothers said, "listen to the music".
Until next time,
Excelsior!
On perseverance
First off, apologies for being away so long. We'll explain just why in a moment.
It appears that your intrepid scribe has inherited something called essential familial tremors from some of his forebears. Essentially, what happens is, if I were to try and touch the tip of your nose, I would end up poking you when one of your eyes, and wouldn't know which eye beforehand. This makes things like writing& handling anything with your hands, to be candid, rather difficult. I have been told by many doctors that I don't have Parkinson's syndrome, and that while this is annoying, proper medication and other compensatory strategies will help me greatly. I fear my career as a juggler is over. However, if you ever need a martini shaken, I'm your man.
When you're accustomed to doing things on your own, there is an obvious adjustment phase that one goes through in accepting the help of friends and family to do things that you normally would do yourself. If you asked the members of my family, they might testify that yours truly has had some difficult moments with this adjustment. They would be correct in that assessment.
So what is the sum and substance of all of this? Your intrepid scribe has to compensate, move on, and quit whining about it. After all, it's baseball season.
Next time, I promise a post more topical and less self absorbed.
Until then,
Excelsior!
It appears that your intrepid scribe has inherited something called essential familial tremors from some of his forebears. Essentially, what happens is, if I were to try and touch the tip of your nose, I would end up poking you when one of your eyes, and wouldn't know which eye beforehand. This makes things like writing& handling anything with your hands, to be candid, rather difficult. I have been told by many doctors that I don't have Parkinson's syndrome, and that while this is annoying, proper medication and other compensatory strategies will help me greatly. I fear my career as a juggler is over. However, if you ever need a martini shaken, I'm your man.
When you're accustomed to doing things on your own, there is an obvious adjustment phase that one goes through in accepting the help of friends and family to do things that you normally would do yourself. If you asked the members of my family, they might testify that yours truly has had some difficult moments with this adjustment. They would be correct in that assessment.
So what is the sum and substance of all of this? Your intrepid scribe has to compensate, move on, and quit whining about it. After all, it's baseball season.
Next time, I promise a post more topical and less self absorbed.
Until then,
Excelsior!
Friday, November 4, 2011
On Terror
May you never get that call. - Me
********
This has nothing at all to do with that crisp September morning ten years ago.
September 10, 2011, a crisp September afternoon in AP,about 3pm. Just back from a brief family outing, and the boys have just left for a bike ride with a friend. A nap beckons.
The phone rings, and Bride answers. Son #1 is explaining to her that Son #2 has just been hit by a motorist, and that he is badly hurt. I am getting the gist of this, and as she hangs up, we're both racing for the door. Moments later, we arrive on the scene, and are advised by a friend in the fire department that he's conscious, and is heading to the hospital. Bride goes in the ambulance, Son #1 in the Jeep with me.
The stuff that goes through your head at times like these is staggering. The kid's been thrown 20-30 feet across the road by the impact, and as we go into the ER, he's already been admitted, and is being examined. The injuries are significant; a broken left ankle, left collarbone, right pelvis, and scrapes and cuts all over the place. He's made stable, and is lucid throughout. It is soon explained to us, however, that the extent of his trauma is such that he'll be moved from the local hospital to Albany Medical Center, whose facilities are much better suited to his type of injuries.
Long story short, we spend six days at Albany Med, followed by seven more at Sunnyview Rehab Center, before we get to bring him home September 23. He's in a wheelchair, owing to the hip-length cast on the left leg, and while he's thoroughly miserable about that, we are all by now aware he'll recovery fully over time. That we as a family have been extraordinarily lucky is manifest.
I thought I knew everything about this kid. I was wrong; I learned his strength of character, his toughness, and his sense of humor were far greater than I had thought. His first few days at Albany Med were very painful for him, and required some pretty heavy-duty medication. About day 4 there, the kid sharing the room with him had been operated on for something or another, and returns to the room just FLYING on pain meds. He's loud, and he's pretty silly. My kid simply looks at me, and whispers, "I'll have what he's having..."
The point of all of this? Damned if I know, but that I know I am so lucky, and so grateful to have him back. When I think of what could have been, I just shudder.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
POSTSCRIPT: November 4, 2011. The casts are off, the shoulder allows the use of crutches now, and Son #2 returns to school in three days. God has truly been good.
********
This has nothing at all to do with that crisp September morning ten years ago.
September 10, 2011, a crisp September afternoon in AP,about 3pm. Just back from a brief family outing, and the boys have just left for a bike ride with a friend. A nap beckons.
The phone rings, and Bride answers. Son #1 is explaining to her that Son #2 has just been hit by a motorist, and that he is badly hurt. I am getting the gist of this, and as she hangs up, we're both racing for the door. Moments later, we arrive on the scene, and are advised by a friend in the fire department that he's conscious, and is heading to the hospital. Bride goes in the ambulance, Son #1 in the Jeep with me.
The stuff that goes through your head at times like these is staggering. The kid's been thrown 20-30 feet across the road by the impact, and as we go into the ER, he's already been admitted, and is being examined. The injuries are significant; a broken left ankle, left collarbone, right pelvis, and scrapes and cuts all over the place. He's made stable, and is lucid throughout. It is soon explained to us, however, that the extent of his trauma is such that he'll be moved from the local hospital to Albany Medical Center, whose facilities are much better suited to his type of injuries.
Long story short, we spend six days at Albany Med, followed by seven more at Sunnyview Rehab Center, before we get to bring him home September 23. He's in a wheelchair, owing to the hip-length cast on the left leg, and while he's thoroughly miserable about that, we are all by now aware he'll recovery fully over time. That we as a family have been extraordinarily lucky is manifest.
I thought I knew everything about this kid. I was wrong; I learned his strength of character, his toughness, and his sense of humor were far greater than I had thought. His first few days at Albany Med were very painful for him, and required some pretty heavy-duty medication. About day 4 there, the kid sharing the room with him had been operated on for something or another, and returns to the room just FLYING on pain meds. He's loud, and he's pretty silly. My kid simply looks at me, and whispers, "I'll have what he's having..."
The point of all of this? Damned if I know, but that I know I am so lucky, and so grateful to have him back. When I think of what could have been, I just shudder.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
POSTSCRIPT: November 4, 2011. The casts are off, the shoulder allows the use of crutches now, and Son #2 returns to school in three days. God has truly been good.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
On Change (again)
"Turn and face the strange changes..." - David Bowie
"Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you." - Satchel Paige
********
We have written in this space before of the anachronism that is your intrepid scribe's working life. Essentially, the twenty-eight years of that career have been spent with Mother Bell, in one of many incarnations: New York Telephone, NYNEX, Bell Atlantic, and Verizon.
Absent some last-minute intervention, that will come to an end some fifty hours from now. Due to the effects of a reduction in force (RIF), a determination has been made that my services will not be required as of the close of business on August 5, 2011.
Those are the facts, and as it has always been my goal in this space to support one man's opinion with reasoned argument, I want to try to reflect without bitterness, and, hopefully, with a bit of good humor.
Twenty-eight years is a long time to do anything, especially within one corporate culture. Like anyone, I have done some things well, some things less well, and some things I wish I hadn't done at all. Hindsight is at once a remarkably useful, and a remarkably dangerous tool at times like these.
I have very few regrets. I've had the opportunity to travel a bit, and to support a family and home that I love deeply, and that is directly due to the stability that my time with Ma Bell has afforded me. I have made many lasting friendships in my time here, and I truly cherish all of them.
It has also been a pleasure to witness firsthand and up-close the change wrought by the coming of the Information Age, for my money the single greatest technological leap in human history. Without the network advancements put forth by my industry, those changes simply would not be feasible, and it has been a privilege to take a very small part in that.
Like any corporate culture, that of Verizon has undergone great change over the past thirty years. Divestiture, merger and acquisition, and the inherent advancement of the industry made such change inevitable. It's very easy for an individual observer to take a position that such change is "good" or "bad"; the truth (to me, anyway) is that it's far more intellectually honest to assess the changes individually, and with the perspective of what was happening at the time, rather than in hindsight. I'm of the opinion that the general calculus of business as a whole has changed so radically in my time that to take any other point of view would be sheer folly. The notion of "lifetime employment", fairly commonplace within my own lifetime, simply does not exist any longer, and even the most casual of observers can see that.
"Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you." - Satchel Paige
********
We have written in this space before of the anachronism that is your intrepid scribe's working life. Essentially, the twenty-eight years of that career have been spent with Mother Bell, in one of many incarnations: New York Telephone, NYNEX, Bell Atlantic, and Verizon.
Absent some last-minute intervention, that will come to an end some fifty hours from now. Due to the effects of a reduction in force (RIF), a determination has been made that my services will not be required as of the close of business on August 5, 2011.
Those are the facts, and as it has always been my goal in this space to support one man's opinion with reasoned argument, I want to try to reflect without bitterness, and, hopefully, with a bit of good humor.
Twenty-eight years is a long time to do anything, especially within one corporate culture. Like anyone, I have done some things well, some things less well, and some things I wish I hadn't done at all. Hindsight is at once a remarkably useful, and a remarkably dangerous tool at times like these.
I have very few regrets. I've had the opportunity to travel a bit, and to support a family and home that I love deeply, and that is directly due to the stability that my time with Ma Bell has afforded me. I have made many lasting friendships in my time here, and I truly cherish all of them.
It has also been a pleasure to witness firsthand and up-close the change wrought by the coming of the Information Age, for my money the single greatest technological leap in human history. Without the network advancements put forth by my industry, those changes simply would not be feasible, and it has been a privilege to take a very small part in that.
Like any corporate culture, that of Verizon has undergone great change over the past thirty years. Divestiture, merger and acquisition, and the inherent advancement of the industry made such change inevitable. It's very easy for an individual observer to take a position that such change is "good" or "bad"; the truth (to me, anyway) is that it's far more intellectually honest to assess the changes individually, and with the perspective of what was happening at the time, rather than in hindsight. I'm of the opinion that the general calculus of business as a whole has changed so radically in my time that to take any other point of view would be sheer folly. The notion of "lifetime employment", fairly commonplace within my own lifetime, simply does not exist any longer, and even the most casual of observers can see that.
In sum, it would be easy for me to lob rhetorical hand grenades at Verizon for the inherent unfairness of my current situation. Uh-uh. Ain't happening. While I was surprised at the timing of this, I was by no means shocked by it; I've seen at least seven separate RIFs come down the pike in my fifteen years in management at Verizon, and while none of those affected me personally, I never failed to think to myself how short-sighted it always appeared at the time. The longer view here is one that I simply must adopt at this particular point. Fair or unfair is simply opinion, and not part of this particular equation.
There's a part of this that is undeniably scary; a fifty-one year-old guy hitting the job market in earnest for the first time in thirty years is admittedly a scary proposition. That said, and this may be deeply delusional on the part of your intrepid scribe, I'm oddly confident about this, and not a little excited as well. I had been stagnating a bit in my current position, and, if I'm going to be truly candid about this, that stagnation had to have become as apparent to others as it was to me. "Fair play", as Schlom used to say. In addition, there is, blessedly, no immediate urgency to find a new position; the offered severance package is attractive, and will do.
Instead, the fundamental question is "What's next?" I've been fortunate to have developed some experience that may be useful, and this world is filled with opportunities for those with the wit to find them. Further, I'm not even sure that I want telecom to be my main focus going forward; I've been indulging my more creative side of late, and that is starting to have some real appeal.
It's funny; this feels a little like dealing with a serious illness, in that there's shock, denial, etc. as part of the whole process. Perspective and reason become of paramount importance. We will progress, because the alternative is simply unaccceptable.
The point of all of this? Change happens. Deal with it. Move on. Trust in you, and in those who care for you. Satch was right.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
There's a part of this that is undeniably scary; a fifty-one year-old guy hitting the job market in earnest for the first time in thirty years is admittedly a scary proposition. That said, and this may be deeply delusional on the part of your intrepid scribe, I'm oddly confident about this, and not a little excited as well. I had been stagnating a bit in my current position, and, if I'm going to be truly candid about this, that stagnation had to have become as apparent to others as it was to me. "Fair play", as Schlom used to say. In addition, there is, blessedly, no immediate urgency to find a new position; the offered severance package is attractive, and will do.
Instead, the fundamental question is "What's next?" I've been fortunate to have developed some experience that may be useful, and this world is filled with opportunities for those with the wit to find them. Further, I'm not even sure that I want telecom to be my main focus going forward; I've been indulging my more creative side of late, and that is starting to have some real appeal.
It's funny; this feels a little like dealing with a serious illness, in that there's shock, denial, etc. as part of the whole process. Perspective and reason become of paramount importance. We will progress, because the alternative is simply unaccceptable.
The point of all of this? Change happens. Deal with it. Move on. Trust in you, and in those who care for you. Satch was right.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
On Progress (?)
Normally, your intrepid scribe attempts to take a lighter view of events, and I do try to see the humor in just about everything.
Not today.
If what I have read in numerous online news sites today is true, then I have just reached a whole new level of appalled.
To summarize it, 18 year-old Kymberly Wimberly (not making that up), of McGehee, Arkansas, filed a complaint in Federal court on July 21, 2011, alleging that her rights under the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution have been violated by the school district in McGehee.
Miss Wimberly, according to the complaint, compiled the highest GPA in her graduating class at McGehee Secondary School, posting a single "B" against straight "A"s over her four years there, all while loading up on every honors and advanced placement course she could find.
By any account I have been able to find over the past two hours, an exceedingly bright young lady. So, why the complaint?
Again, according to the court document, Miss Wimberly has been denied the sole valedictory status she worked so hard to achieve, and was, instead, named CO-valedictorian with another student, whose GPA was not as high of Miss Wimberly's.
Miss Wimberly is an African-American, and her co-valedictorian is white.
The complaint document, which is readily available online, alleges that the McGehee School District, after originally informing Miss Wimberly's mother (a school employee) that she had indeed won top honors, then proceeded to name the white student as co-valedictorian, to prevent "a big mess" in the town of roughly 4500.
Admittedly, I have only heard one side of this story so far, and the school district has as of yet not commented on the matter. Further, untrue allegations filed in court are not exactly unheard-of, and I readily accept that.
That said, if the allegations are indeed true, than your intrepid scribe is appalled beyond my ability to express it.
I have personally spent very little time in the deep South, and as a white Irish guy from upstate New York, I clearly have no means of understanding what it is to be Black in America.
I can only hope that this is all some kind of horrible screw-up.
Sadly, I'm not betting on that. If Miss Wimberly's allegations are indeed proven correct, I hope that bright young lady absolutely takes that school district to the cleaners.
This one, I'm gonna keep an eye on. More as I get it.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Not today.
If what I have read in numerous online news sites today is true, then I have just reached a whole new level of appalled.
To summarize it, 18 year-old Kymberly Wimberly (not making that up), of McGehee, Arkansas, filed a complaint in Federal court on July 21, 2011, alleging that her rights under the Fourteenth Amendment of the United States Constitution have been violated by the school district in McGehee.
Miss Wimberly, according to the complaint, compiled the highest GPA in her graduating class at McGehee Secondary School, posting a single "B" against straight "A"s over her four years there, all while loading up on every honors and advanced placement course she could find.
By any account I have been able to find over the past two hours, an exceedingly bright young lady. So, why the complaint?
Again, according to the court document, Miss Wimberly has been denied the sole valedictory status she worked so hard to achieve, and was, instead, named CO-valedictorian with another student, whose GPA was not as high of Miss Wimberly's.
Miss Wimberly is an African-American, and her co-valedictorian is white.
The complaint document, which is readily available online, alleges that the McGehee School District, after originally informing Miss Wimberly's mother (a school employee) that she had indeed won top honors, then proceeded to name the white student as co-valedictorian, to prevent "a big mess" in the town of roughly 4500.
Admittedly, I have only heard one side of this story so far, and the school district has as of yet not commented on the matter. Further, untrue allegations filed in court are not exactly unheard-of, and I readily accept that.
That said, if the allegations are indeed true, than your intrepid scribe is appalled beyond my ability to express it.
I have personally spent very little time in the deep South, and as a white Irish guy from upstate New York, I clearly have no means of understanding what it is to be Black in America.
I can only hope that this is all some kind of horrible screw-up.
Sadly, I'm not betting on that. If Miss Wimberly's allegations are indeed proven correct, I hope that bright young lady absolutely takes that school district to the cleaners.
This one, I'm gonna keep an eye on. More as I get it.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
On The Big Man
"The change was made uptown, and the Big Man joined the band." - Springsteen
*********
OK, your intrepid scribe has a confession to make. I was not an early acolyte of The Boss. In my infinite wisdom and musical maturity, and to the extreme perplexion of my three younger brothers, I found his music limiting, terming it something like, "girls, cars, and the night."
I consider it a testament to my character that I have since softened my stance somewhat, to the point where I am now willing to admit that if this kid stays with it, he may have a future in the music business.
It took me a few years, but the simple beauty, depth, and breadth of the E Street catalogue is such that it cannot be denied. While Bruce's ability as musician and songwriter stand second to no one, I believe he is at his very best when he hits the stage with his E Street family.
That family took quite a hit this past weekend. The Big Man himself, 69-year-old Clarence Clemons, who with Max Weinberg has driven the E Street rhythm section for forty years, suffered a stroke at his Florida home. Early reports of his recovery seem promising, and your intrepid scribe just wanted to take a moment to add his prayers for a speedy return. The E Street band, and music in general, are so much the better for his powerful sax, his towering presence, and his kind demeanor.
God speed, Big Man.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
*********
OK, your intrepid scribe has a confession to make. I was not an early acolyte of The Boss. In my infinite wisdom and musical maturity, and to the extreme perplexion of my three younger brothers, I found his music limiting, terming it something like, "girls, cars, and the night."
I consider it a testament to my character that I have since softened my stance somewhat, to the point where I am now willing to admit that if this kid stays with it, he may have a future in the music business.
It took me a few years, but the simple beauty, depth, and breadth of the E Street catalogue is such that it cannot be denied. While Bruce's ability as musician and songwriter stand second to no one, I believe he is at his very best when he hits the stage with his E Street family.
That family took quite a hit this past weekend. The Big Man himself, 69-year-old Clarence Clemons, who with Max Weinberg has driven the E Street rhythm section for forty years, suffered a stroke at his Florida home. Early reports of his recovery seem promising, and your intrepid scribe just wanted to take a moment to add his prayers for a speedy return. The E Street band, and music in general, are so much the better for his powerful sax, his towering presence, and his kind demeanor.
God speed, Big Man.
Until next time,
Excelsior!
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