Tuesday, July 2, 2013

LIFE ON A STRING



Several months ago, I attended a unique marionette show with my daughter and granddaughter in Los Angeles, California.  It reminded me of a show I watched on television a long time ago…

If you were a kid in the 1950’s, you were likely a witness to television history.  What began as a radio program known as “The Triple B Ranch Show” with a character named Elmer who greeted listeners by saying “Howdy Doody” soon became “The Puppet Playhouse”.   By 1949, the circus theme was changed to a cast of characters who lived in a town called “Doodyville” hosted by a man named Buffalo Bob.

By now you’ve probably guessed that this was the nascent “Howdy Doody” show, which was a true pioneer in several ways.  Although it began in black and white, it was the first television show broadcast in color, the first NBC series to air five days a week, and the first show with more than 1,000 continuous episodes.   During its 13 year run, a total of 2343 shows had been performed. 




While most people today think of puppets in terms of the handheld variety, these were marionettes – puppets on strings.  Once called the ugliest puppet ever made, Howdy was joined by others such as Mr. Bluster, Flubadub (who was comprised of seven different creatures) as well as human characters.  Aside from Buffalo Bob, you were sure to see Clarabell the clown, Princess Summerfall Winterspring, Chief Thunderthud, Ranger Bob and Trapper Pierre.  The first Clarabell  was none other than Bob Keeshan, who went on to become TV’s Captain Kangaroo.  Ranger Bob was the second acting job for soon-to-be Star Trek’s Captain Kirk, also known as William Shatner.  Trapper Pierre was Camelot’s Robert Goulet.

As more updated shows such as the Mickey Mouse Club took away an ever-larger share of Howdy’s audience (known as the Peanut Gallery) and sponsors gradually jumped ship, the show ended in 1957. 




Although Howdy and his friends faded away, the show that brought it to mind has not.  Underneath a bridge in a gritty area next to downtown Los Angeles is a white building that is easy to overlook.  An 88 year old man still shows up for work nearly every day.  Bob Baker lives in the same house that he did when he pulled the strings of his first marionette at age seven.  It was a Christmas show at an L.A. department store that lit his passion for puppetry.  He was just eight years old when he performed his first puppet show at the Beverly Hills Hotel.  In the audience were members of the famed Rockefeller family and when the children came up to hug the puppets at the show’s end, Baker knew he had found his life’s work.

Baker helped unionize puppeteers and established the first puppet manufacturing facility when he was still in his teens. 

His theater is the longest running puppet theater in the United States and houses over 3,000 puppets.  But the theater is struggling financially as attendance has fallen over the last decade.  Baker still presents seasonal productions throughout the year.
The day we attended the show, we entered a large room with no stage , bordered by folding chairs.  A colored line ran around the perimeter of the room, outlining the no-go areas for the audience.  The two-year-old sat, entranced, as music poured from the speakers and the curtains pulled back to reveal a myriad of marionettes representing animals and people.  The puppeteers dressed to avoid distracting from the puppets, and Baker’s creations danced, hopped, and strolled around the room, interacting with the children.   Delighted by the personal attention, kids laughed and joined in the fun.  Set, character and costume changes kept up the interest level during the hour-long presentation. 

It’s easy to see that Baker and his puppeteers are doing this for love, not money.  The costumes and sets are well worn and even a bit shabby, but the kids didn’t notice.  They were too happy, watching the last days of one of Los Angeles' cultural and artistic giants, Bob Baker.    

 




Wednesday, June 5, 2013

MATCHMAKER, MATCHMAKER, PRINT ME A MATCH!



If you haven't seen a blurb on the news lately, brace yourself.  We are on the cusp of an industrial revolution, the likes of which hasn't been seen since the invention of the computer (thanks, Al Gore).  The invention known as a "3D Printer" is about to make untold numbers of jobs obsolete.  Remember how all those autoworkers slaved away on assembly lines until the robotic assemblers took over?  Automakers are already using the printers to make some parts and components, but they are just a small way to utilize this technology.

Scientists at Cornell University  recently created a new human-shaped ear using a 3D printer and injections of living cow cells. The researchers are on track to use a person's own cells to quickly customize implants.  

Remember dental labs that employed skilled technicians to create caps and crowns to mimic those lost to decay or accidents?  A printer can create exact replicas.

How about the laborious procedure of securing organ donors for transplants, and the percentage of recipients whose bodies often rejected the donated organs, despite ingesting a boatload of anti-rejection drugs for years?  We aren't far from using a patient's own cells to replicate the needed body part.

Engineers and designers have been using 3D printing to create prototypes for many years, but falling technology costs are making it increasing accessible to other people. 3D objects are created by sending a digital file or scan to a printer which then builds the item layer by layer - a process know as "additive manufacturing".

The fashion industry is experimenting with these printers to produce clothing and jewelry.  Think of all the workers this will jettison when they perfect the process. Architects are confident that the process can be used to build an entire house.  Lots of construction workers won't be happy about that.

These days, restaurant meals aren't able to be customized much more than to hold the dressing or to cook the meat medium-rare.  But 3D printing technology will be able to tailor foods to specifically suit an individual’s dietary needs or calibrated to the calories burned that day.  Data-driven food is destined to make up a much larger part of our diet in the years to come.  And you were worried about GMO's?


"Once you have the automatic collection of what you’re eating and when, you can predict -- based off your activity levels, your planned diet and your health records -- exactly how much and what types of food you should be eating. That’s really ultimately the long-term potential of food printing," explained Jeffrey Lipton, a doctoral candidate at Cornell University’s Creative Machines Lab and chief technology officer of Seraph Robotics.

Cornell also has a Fab@Home lab, which is focused on personal fabrication,  They formulated a recipe for snowflake-shaped sugar cookies.  These data-driven delights were a result of compiling Lipton's and another colleague's information such as height, weight, daily schedules, BMI and caloric deficit for the day.  They used 3D printers to print two cookies that each accounted for 10 percent of their respective deficits.

3d printing food

And if this sounds too far into the future for you, Lipton noted that four publicly-traded food companies have 3D printers they’re using to prototype new foods.

So how long, really?  Well, the cost of 3D printing is still too prohibitive for use in producing mass-printed food.  Novelty items like birthday cakes and chocolates will likely be the first food areas to utilize the technology.

In fact, NASA has announced plans to fund construction of the world’s first ever 3D food printer, and has already given a $125,000 grant to mechanical engineer Anjan Contractor, who has designed the machine. NASA hopes to eventually be able to provide food for astronauts on long space journeys.
"We eventually have to change our perception of what we see as food." - Mechanical engineer Anjan Contractor
Some say this is just as exciting for the earthbound, as the machines could eventually become a regular kitchen appliance used to simply print off one's dinner rather than spend time preparing it.
The food printer is fed on cartridges of powders and oils (instead of ink) containing all the nutrients needed for a healthy diet.  The ingredients are sprayed on layer-by-layer by the 3D printer, eventually creating solid three-dimensional food.  Enthusiasts claim the printers might cut food waste globally, as the cartridges wouldn’t go out of date for over 30 years and could only be refilled when they had completely run out.

Gee, I guess we wouldn't have to worry about such silly things as freshness or "use by" dates.  Makes you wonder how our bodies will react.  Personally, it's a bit too "Soylent Green" for my tastes.

But food is only one avenue of the 3D printer revolution.  You probably saw the news piece on television where a group of American anarchists created a 3D printed gun and published the designs globally, allowing anyone with a 3D printer to create a firearm.  The design has been downloaded hundreds of thousands of times, but at least -to date-the device can only fire a single bullet.

Home 3D printers with limited functions can be had for as little as $300, thanks to one Kickstarter campaign, but the industrial models are out of reach for the individual.

What would you use one for?


 

Friday, May 3, 2013

GOOD OL' FREDA: YEAH, YEAH, YEAH!





GOOD OL’ FREDA:  YEAH, YEAH, YEAH!


She flew through the hallowed halls of Baltimore’s Institute of Notre Dame, waving black-and-white Polaroid pictures for just one dollar each.  Where else could you get a personal memento of The Beatles U.S. debut on “The Ed Sullivan Show” on February 9, 1964?  Kathy McCabe was a promoter while still dressed in the pleated plaid skirt and saddle shoe uniform of IND, before she even knew what that term meant.  And she was absolutely crazy over this new group from Liverpool, England.  She LOVED music…so much so that she was almost expelled from the all-girls Catholic school for an in-school performance.  We sat through lots of performances during our time at IND:  choral groups, drama club, etc., but never had a student dared to put on one like Kathy did.  The curtain drew back to reveal (GASP) a group of girls performing a Beach Boys’ number, with Miss McCabe hammering away on a set of drums.  The principal rushed to the stage, her black veil flying behind her, and shut down such an affront to womanly decency.  

If you happened to stop by the gathering place for local Baltimore music in the mid 1960’s and 70’s – The Bluesette – you’d have seen her, decked out in hippie chick garb, singing with The Uncertain Things band and elsewhere for over thirty years.  Time moved on, and many of us re-directed our youthful passions, but not Kathy McCabe.  I caught up with my former classmate recently and discovered that she has indeed continued to do what she always loved.  


Her talent for picture-taking extended far beyond those Polaroids, too.  She is an award-winning photographer, who has worked as a publicist and manager, a music video and album producer, a recording studio manager, and a publicist and marketer for “Pelada”, a documentary film about pick-up soccer games around the world, far from the manicured fields of professional sports.  After making the rounds of about 30 film festivals, it was picked up by PBS and Netflix.  You can check “Pelada” out at pelada-themovie.com.
Kathy also happens to be an expert on all things Beatle.  If you are wondering what good it does to know everything there is about the Fab Four, well pull up a chair…

McCabe has initiated, engineered and produced a documentary film about the Beatles’ long-time, faithful secretary, Freda Kelly, a shy teen who jumped at the chance to be their secretary.  The film’s name comes from a shout-out on the group’s 1963 Christmas record.  The story of the four lads who became a huge and lasting success is told through Freda’s eyes.  She was a friend and confidant to the group and their families.  She was the head of their fan club for eleven years, dutifully responding to fan mail and unending requests, holding down what had to be one of the most enviable jobs on earth.  Freda wrote an article each month in a magazine called (what else?) “The Beatles Monthly”, and Kathy always bought a copy at Sherman’s Bookstore on Park Avenue in downtown Baltimore.  There was a pen pal request page in the magazine and Kathy added her name to the list.  In a serendipitous twist of fate, McCabe’s name was chosen by a fellow named Robbie Malloy, whose sister happened to work at the Beatles Fan Club with Freda.  The brother-in-law of Robbie’s sister was named “Billy”.  Billy (who appears in the documentary film) just happened to play for the Merseybeats, who played on the same bill with The Beatles many times.  Over the years, Kathy and Freda developed a friendship which led to the making of this film. 


 Kathy McCabe’s ties to Maryland run deep.  She was born in Baltimore, and is a graduate of both the Institute of Notre Dame and Towson State, with degrees in both Political Science and History.  She divides her time between Catonsville, Maryland and Gulf Shores, Alabama.  An avid wildlife photographer, Kathy travels regularly with her musician husband, Mac Walter, who just happens to be (among MANY other things) a member of the Governor Martin O’Malley’s band, O’Malley’s March.  

Don’t wait, because these screenings have been selling out to appreciative audiences at film festivals across the country for the last two months.   It’s impressive enough that Magnolia Pictures has acquired the distribution rights for North America.  

 #1 Screening: Get out of work early & come to the movies.
 Bring your friends, co-workers and boss too!
Tickets $10
Thursday, May 9, 2013 at 5pm, at the Charles Theater 1
 1711 N. Charles St., Baltimore, MD.  21201
(410) 727-3464
The Link to purchase tickets is http://www.missiontix.com/events/product/17331

#2 Screening: Bring your mom, wife, aunt, daughter and family for Mother's Day!
Why sit in a crowded restaurant at noon when you can have fun at the movies?
Tickets $10
Sunday, May 12, 2013 at 12 noon at MICA Brown Center, Maryland Institute College of of Art,
1300 Mount Royal Avenue
Baltimore, Maryland 21217
The link  to purchase tickets:
http://www.missiontix.com/events/product/17332

Thursday, March 21, 2013

THE LURE OF JUVENILE HUMOR: JUST ADMIT IT






Okay, if you crinkle your nose and won’t acknowledge that you once snickered at your grade school acquaintances’ manic competitions to produce the silliest names…or even contributed to the lists, just stop reading.  And spare me the acrimonious comments on the subject.  I get it.  You’re a grown-up and I’m not.  Happy? 

This is my third go-round.  I participated in this brand of humor in my own youth, re-visited it when my children entered the age group that glories in it, and now have a grandchild who has discovered it.  If you’re drawing a blank, I’m referring to such famous novels as “Yellow Rivers” by I. P. Daily, “One Hundred Recipes for Hamburger” by Chuck Roast, and down the endless list.

The best names are the ones that you don’t have to make up.  They occur naturally, but you have to pay attention to catch them.  I"ll never forgot the car salesman with the unfortunate moniker, “Orson Buggy”.  It’s kind of like looking at those weird patterns that contain a picture, if you stare at them long enough.  How does a guy with the name “Rusty Steele” wind up working at a body shop?  It should be an automatic disqualification for a woman named “Frieda Wander” to sit on a parole board.

Is there an ice rink caretaker named “Sam Boney”?  A barista who answers to “Bruno Moore”?  There just has to be a French lawyer named “Jacques Hughes” or a laid-back counselor who goes by “Saul Wellingood”.  Did you ever worry that if you quit going to the gym, you’d wind up wearing that dreaded clothing line by “Hugh Jass”?

I could go on, but my favorite juvenile television show just started, and I don‘t want to miss what happens this week when that mean vampire, Dustin Dubree, gets pushed out into the sunlight.   

Thursday, March 7, 2013

IN-N-OUT….ANIMAL STYLE




No, it’s not the latest porn film, but legions of fans might ascribe similar feelings to this kind of addiction too.  

If you live in the Southwestern U.S., especially California and Texas, you know I’m referring to the burger chain with a cult-like following:  In-N-Out.   The company started in 1948 with just one drive-through in Los Angeles and now has 280 restaurants in five states.  That may not seem like an impressive number compared with such giants as McDonalds and Burger King, but the family-owned chain is famous for its fresh ingredients as well as the tiny quotations from the Bible on its cups and wrappers.  Devotees can even hire the company trailers to cater coporate or other party events.


Heading a business valued at an estimated $1.1 billion, In-N-Out’s newest owner and president is Lynsi Torres who, at just 30 years old, is arguably the youngest female billionaire on the planet.   Her daunting position resulted from a series of deaths in her family, leaving her as the last family heir.  At the time, she was just 23, and the family trust gave her half ownership when she turned 30 last year.  Full ownership will come on her 35th birthday.

In-N-Out’s future is uncertain as not a lot is known about Torres, who refuses most requests for interviews.  With no college degree or formal management training, it is unknown whether she will maintain ownership after gaining full control of the fabled company, which has never franchised to outsiders in order to maintain its legendary quality control.  In-N-Out offers a limited menu, concentrating on fresh beef delivered daily on refrigerated trucks.  In fact, that’s the main reason the company hasn’t expanded beyond its current zones:  its policy dictates that the trucks must be able to reach the restaurants on the same day.  And that’s not all.  They make every hamburger patty from whole chucks from premium cattle selected especially for In-N-Out Burger. Individually inspecting every single chuck, their butchers debone, grind and make the patties.  Lettuce is hand-leafed. American cheese is the real thing. There isn’t a microwave, heat lamp, or freezer in the restaurant. They even bake their buns with old-fashioned, slow-rising sponge dough. And every burger is cooked fresh to order.

In-N-Out french fries come from potatoes shipped directly from the grower, individually cut in the stores, then cooked in pure vegetable oil. Milkshakes are made with real ice cream. 

So, until Ms. Torres reaches her corporate age of majority, I’ll have to limit my consumption to one burger per visit to Southern California.   That’s probably a good thing, since I like my burger animal style (translation: lettuce, tomato, a mustard cooked beef patty, pickle, extra spread with grilled onions).
  
Did I hear that Southwest has an airfare sale?

Thursday, February 28, 2013

THE DEATH OF A CATHOLIC SCHOOL





They consider me a valuable source of information.  Ugh.  That’s a nice way of calling me a dinosaur. 

The “Blessed Sacrament School –Old York Road in Baltimore, MD 21218” group on Facebook has 133 members.  I’d like to think it should be more, but then this is an elementary school that closed its doors in the 1970’s due to declining enrollment.  When I browsed the group’s page the other day, it saddened me to see that the school building, rectory and convent are all up for sale.  I gazed at the photographs.  What they called the parking lot had been our playground, but now it was as cracked and broken down as some of its earliest graduates.  Clicking through to the Archdiocese of Baltimore’s Real Estate page (which I didn’t know existed), I saw no less than seven Baltimore City Catholic schools and three Baltimore County Catholic schools for sale.


Aside from its clergy’s well-publicized faults, it was hard to top a Catholic education from the 1950’s through the 1980’s.  The nuns and priests were my second family.  Their watchful eyes saw and noted everything.  Missteps had consequences and transgressions were swiftly reported to my parents who followed up when I arrived home.  If my mathematics calculations or my grammar wasn’t correct, they made sure that I worked until the concepts had been mastered. 

In that flourishing era of Catholic schooling, there was no such thing as tuition.  Our parents were just supposed to toss a dollar or two into the collection basket at Sunday Mass.  Our religious educators didn’t receive salaries, only small stipends to cover their bare necessities.  My mother and other parents volunteered to ferry the nuns to medical and dental appointments on a rotating basis.  Mom volunteered me to struggle through my modest piano repertoire to entertain the sisters on occasional Sunday afternoons.  It was a shock when I graduated to Catholic high school, where the tuition was a then-staggering $200 a year.  My modest urban alma mater is now approximately $12,000 per year plus add-on fees.

Blessed Sacrament Parish recently celebrated its 100th anniversary.  In the beginning the surrounding community was solidly blue collar.  Before it succumbed to the infection of drugs, crime and poverty, hard-working families raised their children in the rowhouse-filled streets, attended church and entrusted their children to the School Sisters of Notre Dame who lived in the greystone convent attached to the school building.  




It was the luck of the draw whether you got the fresh-faced nun, straight from the novitiate, sweet and kind, or the prune-skinned relic, counting the days until retirement from classroom duties.  We did have a few lay teachers, but they were the exception and exclusively female.   The pupil-teacher ratio was large.  It was not unusual to have 30+ kids in a class.  Yet the room was as silent as a tomb.  The nuns wielded a long, wooden pointer whose use wasn’t restricted to the blackboard.  After-school detention meant humiliation, additional homework and manual labor around the school grounds.  It just wasn’t worth it.

Conversely, the agony of self-control could be legendary.  Those unfortunate enough to be selected for the church choir were led by Sister Mary Teresa.  This poor woman’s sanity was borderline, due to teaching the combined 6th/7th grades with a total of 49 pupils daily.  We practiced in the choir loft of the church, accompanied by the organist, Maizie.  An object of very unchristian juvenile cruelty, Maizie had been born with a cleft palate which had been poorly repaired.  Back in the 50’s, the unsophisticated term was “harelip”, based on the shape of a hare’s lip.  This defect distorted her speech into nasal garbling.  “Nit nur buks uf muh urgun!” she would yell.  Translation:  “Get your books off my organ!”  We would raise our hymn books to cover our red, contorted faces as we fought to stifle our laughter and keep our pants dry.


As I write, the television networks are covering the Pope’s retirement….more convulsive change.  Yes, reflecting on and complaining of change is characteristic of an aging personality, but I’m not convinced that’s the complete explanation.  Change is accelerating on all fronts and I don’t think I’m alone in struggling to stay abreast.  The challenge is figuring out what changes are worth keeping.    

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Excerpt from "Heart Search: Lost" Debut Novel

If you been reading my blog posts over the last few weeks, you know I've been publicizing the fab new paranormal romance novel of my friend, Carlie Cullen.  Before I return to my normal subject matter, I thought I'd leave you with a tasty morsel, aka "excerpt" from "Heart Search: Lost".  Just remember that Carlie is from the U.K. and their spelling as well as expressions often vary from U.S. authors.  Enjoy!

"Further down the street I came across a storefront which drew my attention immediately. On layered glass shelves was an exhibit of exquisite china fairies, their faces almost lifelike, their colours a range of pastels and earth tones. I gazed at each of them in turn, admiring the delicacy and skill which created them.

Once my eyes had feasted upon each fairy, my attention was drawn to the other half of the window; on this side were a range of glorious dragons – some with wings extended, some prone, some seated with fierce eyes that appeared to be searching for their next victim.

A strange sense of déjà vu came upon me. I didn’t remember seeing this shop when Josh and I had stopped here before yet I couldn’t escape the notion that this was all very . . . familiar. I also failed to shake the feeling that something was about to distract me. I continued to scrutinise the dragons, but when I reached one entitled ‘Freyedar the Fearsome’ a reflection in the glass caught my eye.
I looked up to see the reflection of a hooded man on the other side of the road. He moved as gracefully as a dancer as he slowly glided along. A sudden bluster of wind dislodged his hood and I was able to see the profile of his face. The skin was albino with prominent cheekbones, a strong jaw line and lips that were ruby in colour. He was beautiful, even angelic. In fact, he looked a great deal like Josh. Then with a gasp of recognition I realised it was him, but he had changed . . . subtly. I whispered his name and saw his head incline slightly towards me. An excited sparkle gleamed in his eye, but his face was agonised."