Impressions of Munich

People from Munich take Michael Jackson very serious.  How seriously?

 

It doesn’t matter if they're in a hurry or out for a Sunday stroll; folks in Munich will not cross the road until the light indicates “walk.”  A person who is mugged across the street from a crowd of waiting pedestrians is out of luck. 

For those who find stairs difficult, escalators are available.  Working escalators, however, are optional. (I've been informed since I wrote this that they start when you approach them - a green energy thing.  How embarrassing!)

When in a crowded restaurant, the word for pretzel, breze, can be mistaken for espresso.  My first ever.  It helped to counterbalance the four beers I’d had by that point.

You think that just because you were born on God’s Green Earth that you deserve water with your meal?  For free?

Museums can actually be cheap and well-attended – even the obscure ones.  Most cost about $8 to $10.  Compare that with the Shedd Aquarium.

Bike helmets are for sissies.  So, apparently, is head trauma.

The love affair with 80s music isn’t limited to Michael Jackson.  It was pumped 24/7 in our hotel lobby, and I saw signs - real ones - for a Toto concert!  

Mass transit really CAN work well in a city.  Munich’s transportation system makes New York’s look like a Thomas the Tank Engine toy set.  One fee per day for any subway, train, tram or bus you want to take.  And no turnstiles!  You ride on the honor system.  Could this work in the United States?  Hell, no!

Germans are tall.

It was comforting to know that none of the people I saw had anything to do with World War II.  I’m not sure that I would have been able to travel in Germany twenty years ago.

In Munich, Whitesnake is the headliner to Journey's opener.

You really can ride your bike as a viable alternative to cars when 1) there are legitimate bike lanes near the sidewalk – not squeezed onto the road as an afterthought; and 2) bike racks are plentiful.  Where I live, they keep pushing for more bikes, but you can’t find a bike rack to save your life, and it doesn’t really matter, because you’ll likely die before you get there.

How the heck do they shovel the cobblestone when it snows?  How?

Trains are on time.  Always.

In the Jewish Museum of Munich, various ritual items are displayed as if they were excavated from a cave of an ancient people from thousands of years ago and not a vibrant religion of today.  How sad.

So many expensive stores packed on a weekday afternoon in April.  Where do all the people come from?  What do they do for a living?

Walking up the steps of St. Peter’s Church has physical ramifications that last for days.

Also in the Jewish Museum, a timeline of Jews in Munich is presented, showing key years in the 800 years Jews have lived there.  About every hundred years it reads something like, “expelled” or “denied occupations other than moneylending” or “pogrom” or “murdered.”  On and on until the mass murder of the 1940s.  And now a majority of Jews living in Munich come from eastern Europe and the old Soviet Union, and I think, “800 years of persecution wasn’t enough of a reason for you to consider living elsewhere?”

Beer with lunch isn't just accepted, it's encouraged.  Ah, now I get why displaced Jews came here. Mystery solved.

Roger Ebert

An eerie coincidence: two nights ago, I spent a half an hour watching an old Siskel and Ebert movie review at http://siskelandebert.org/ of one hell of a week for movie lovers.  During that week in 1982, they reviewed Tootsie, The Verdict and Sophie’s Choice.  Not too shabby. 

The next day I found out that Roger Ebert had died. 

This news jolted me, as I’d just been watching the forty year-old Ebert offer his witticisms the night prior, and though the news saddened me, I’d already felt the loss of no longer being able to watch new versions of the great show both he and Gene Siskel left behind.  Fortunately for us, two other film lovers have helped catalogue these old reviews at http://siskelandebert.org/ (though I notice the website was down earlier today.  We can only hope this was because of too many hits and not because the powers that be at Disney/ABC – the owners of all the “At the Movie” episodes from 1986 through 2010 - have thrown their weight around and filed a lawsuit.  For more on the stupidity of Disney/ABC, click on a blog of mine from a year ago).

Siskel and Ebert’s show was part of my life due to my mother’s influence, when in the 1970s we tuned into the show “Sneak Previews” on PBS.  We even watched for a while after Siskel and Ebert’s departure, but before long we turned back to the critics we’d grown to love at their new show, “At the Movies.”  Always interesting, sometimes enlightening, and almost always entertaining, the weekly show helped to solidify in me what was already becoming a fascination with the movies.

For any of you who missed how insightful and entertaining movie criticism can be, look no further than their 1990 discussion (at minute 14:40) of the anti-Semitism accusations people made of Spike Lee for his film, Mo’ Better Blues. As both a film lover and a Jewish man, Siskel handles the subject deftly, while Roger Ebert displays his innocence by admitting he didn’t even know the characters were supposed to be Jewish (I didn’t either back in 1990).  It was a grown-up discussion before the days of the Internet when name-calling and browbeating weren't the norm.

Both Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert will be missed, with or without a video record of their contributions to film criticism, but what’s mindboggling to me is how a similar show can’t succeed today.  Aren’t their two skillful writers out there who’ve got some personality and who can provide movie lovers with a show in the same vein as “At the Movies”?  Even an Internet-only broadcast would be acceptable to me.  If one exists that I'm simply not aware of, please leave a comment at the end of this blog.

An aside: I should also note that in 2011 I happened to be listening to an Amy Winehouse song at the same time I later found out she was dying, and now Roger dies hours after I watch a review of his.  For those of you whose blogs I read, watch out.

Making Music Matter Again - part one

One of my more obnoxious qualities circa 1985 (and there were many) was, upon hearing a song on the radio, reciting the song title, artist, album, year, album side and song number.  So, when a particular song crackled on WQFM, I might say something like, “Goodbye Stranger, Supertramp, Breakfast in America, 1979, side one, third song.” 

It goes without saying that I didn’t date much circa 1985.

At that time in my life, records weren’t just purchased; they were digested.  After all, an LP at K-Mart cost the equivalent of two hours of dishwashing at Seigo’s Japanese Steakhouse – I needed to make the most of my record-buying binges by not only listening to the record, but studying the album’s cover, lyrics and liner-notes.  (One of the biggest disappointments was purchasing a record that came in a blank white sleeve; it diminished the whole listening experience).  Even albums that fell flat initially called for repeated listens, as I forced myself to justify a poor purchase until something redeeming was revealed, and with the exception of Gregg Rollie’s solo LP, I always found something positive to take away from a record purchase.

Today, music can be accessed, purchased, copied and shared with one click, often a song at a time, so the idea of reciting an album side and song number has become an anachronism (and has probably allowed music geeks to land a few more dates).  More importantly, the access to free music has resulted in its devaluation.  Music has become disposable, no more valuable than a paper plate.  Unless you’re talking about sunsets, love and air, that which is free generally has little to no worth.

Recently, I’ve made strides to making music matter again in my life.  There are a number of steps a music lover can take to become more actively engaged in music listening.  Number one: listen to vinyl.

I am not a vinyl snob.  I never got into expensive stereo equipment.  I haven't refrained from purchasing CDs.  I love listening to music on the go.  And the lower quality of compressed music on-line has never been a big deal to me.  I don’t listen to vinyl for the so-called superior sound quality.  I listen to vinyl because I can only do it when I’m in my basement where there’s nothing else to do except listen to the music, and because there’s something magical about placing a needle into the groove of a record – it’s one of those mundane acts that transcends the act itself, forming a link to generations, artists, and eras gone by.

I asked  Chris Ellensohn, co-owner of Cheap Kiss Records in Schaumburg, Illinois, to explain why vinyl matters.  He said it was summed up best by an intern his company hired a few years ago: “I feel like you should have to work a little bit for your music so that it is not taken for granted.”

A good summary, but Chris elaborates more eloquently than I ever could.  “Retrieving the record, carefully removing it from the jacket, cleaning it if necessary, gingerly dropping the needle into the groove, perusing the liner notes as the first strains of that particular band’s attempt at a first impression greet you, are all moments of connection to the artist.  Compare it to a painting by your favorite artist hanging on your wall vs. having a picture of it on your phone.  Having something tangible can make a big difference. 

“The fact that we can hit play on iTunes and shuffle our way to hours of uninterrupted background noise just makes us more removed from the point of musical inception, that moment in time when a fleeting thought fleshed itself out into a melody, harmony and rhythm intended to worm its way into your brain and not let go.”

The idea that we’ve become “more removed from the point of musical inception” resonates in other areas of our lives: the clothes we wear, the food we eat and the furniture we sit on.  Listening to vinyl is akin to growing your own vegetables, building your own bookshelf, or knitting your own sweater.  There’s something pure, perhaps even noble, about listening to music like it truly matters.

Give it a try sometime.  And if you’re in the western ‘burbs of Chicago, come and join Chris and Cheap Kiss Records tonight (March 18) from 6-8PM at Cornerstone Used Books in Villa Park.  They’ll be talking – and spinning – records.  Tonight’s theme: 70s AM Radio Hits.

Revisiting College Planning

About a year ago I blogged about college costs and how the increasing rate of tuition has been a game changer for our teens as they approach college.

One of the guys I mentioned in that blog, Frank Palmasani, has a new book: Right College, Right Price. Here's the cool part - it's on sale as an eBook for a dollar.  Not too shabby.  True, a large reason this book is so cheap is because it's a self-advertisement for Palmasani's Financial Fit (TM) Affordability Program, which currently costs $49 for a year's use.  But after purchasing the book yesterday and finishing it in about three hours, I can say that it's a great read and hugely beneficial regardless of whether you buy into the full program.  I may do some of my own calculations with Excel for the time being, but in about a year, I could see ponying up the money for the program.

Palmasani spoke at my daughters' high school last year, and I was impressed with his approach to finding the right college because it was so logical, but as the exploding student debt crisis in the US illustrates, sometimes logic needs to be learned.  Palmasani's approach?  Find out what your family can afford to pay for college first and then focus your search on those institutions whose net costs fall within your budget. Obvious, right?  But until recently, it was nearly impossible to figure out what the net cost to your family would be.  That is, not until March or April of your child's senior year, when she was already gaga about attending her dream school.  

With the advent of Net Price Calculators that are now required for all colleges and universities (thank you congress and GW - apparently things CAN get done in Washington from time to time), you can now plan in advance and avoid taking trips to universities that aren't within your budget, and more importantly, avoid the heartache that comes with one of two very bad choices: 1) telling your child she has to go someplace else; or 2) take out mountains of debt to pay for her dream college.  Clearly, option two has been the preferred method for parents in the US as of late.  It's time to change that strategy.

This isn't to say that your child shouldn't aim high if he wants to.  Depending on your income, it's quite likely that an Ivy League education will cost less than your premier state school.  How will you know how much aid you qualify for?  It's not an exact science, but the FAFSA Forecaster might be a good place to start.  You can input your income and assets, and then change the numbers if you want to determine how, say, paying down your house more quickly or investing more money into your retirement account might affect your eligibility for loans.

Frank Palmasani has loads of advice regarding loans, scholarship searches, strategies your should be wary of, and the risks associate with various decisions.  Most importantly for me, the book gives a great summary of the entire college search process so that I have a better idea of what lies ahead.  I'm actually excited, because I feel that regardless of how my children do in school or how much my wife and I can help them with costs, there are plenty of opportunities for our kids.  And now, thanks to so many helpful online tools (and a good book), there are plenty of opportunites for parents to make the process more palitable.

Life on Film: Every Seven Years

The recent release of the film “56 Up” served as a reminder for me to catch up on the seven films that preceded it.  A magnificent achievement and a gift to those who are curious about life and all that comes with it, this documentary series began in 1964 and continues to record the lives of fourteen English people from various backgrounds every seven years.   I’d caught a bit of “42 Up” on PBS some years back, but with the advent of Netflix and Instant Watch, all are now available for immediate viewing, with the exception of “7 Plus 7” (though many clips from that episode are reviewed in the latter films, and it’s also available on DVD).  Remarkably, all fourteen people are still alive, and most are doing well with their lives despite the challenges that so many them – and so many of all of us – face: divorce, mental and physical illness, lack of money, losing parents, raising kids and career disappointments.

The premise of the movie is a quote attributed to St. Francis Xavier: “Give me the boy until he is seven, and I will give you the man,” and indeed, upon watching the film “7 Up,” it’s not difficult to forecast the lives of some of the kids with a degree of accuracy.  And as I continue to make my through the series (I’m midway through watching “42 Up”) I can’t help but put myself in the shoes of the subjects of these movies and wonder how my life would have looked on film at age seven (and every seven years after).  I’m quite glad it wasn’t, but I’m grateful to the people who’ve agreed to be filmed, for they’ve helped to reveal the humanity in all of us.

Making my way through the series, I find myself captivated with these rather ordinary lives and rooting for the happy endings of every one of them.  When we are shown a happily married couple in one film, only to discover that they’ve divorced by the next film, it’s a heartbreaking revelation.  This isn’t “The Bachelorette” or “Survivor”; these are real lives of common people doing the best they can with what they have.

It reminds me of my twentieth high school reunion, the last one I attended, when so many people came together with seemingly one collective thought: I hope you’re doing okay.  No longer did it matter who had been friends with whom, who had been a jock or a band nerd, or who had been cocky or humble.  Life has a way of humbling everyone, even the most successful among us, and it was gratifying to discover that so many of us had survived, had persevered, had found happiness, lost it, and then found it again, had endured the unimaginable only to come out of the other side stronger and more grateful.

Perhaps Roger Ebert said it best in the last paragraph of his review for “56 Up”:  It is a mystery, this business of life.  I can’t think of any cinematic undertaking that allows us to realize that more deeply.

I couldn’t agree more.  I’m rooting for the class of 1986 from Brookfield East High School, and I’m rooting for the fourteen people who have given so much of themselves to the study of life.  Not just their lives, but all of ours.