Get Inspired By Two Dream-Chasers in Julie and Julia

The Oscars are right around the corner. I find myself woefully unprepared this year, but a couple weeks ago I managed to cross one more contender off my list. It’s a movie that I suspect will inspire many a delicious delicacy at Oscar parties across the country: Julie and Julia.

This film, written and directed by Nora Ephron and based on the book by Julie Powell, tracks the journeys of two women from frustrated obscurity to culinary greatness. Julie (Amy Adams) is an aspiring writer who spends her days as a receptionist fielding angry phone calls from New Yorkers still reeling from 9-11. She longs to do something different, something that will inflame her passions and give her something to look forward to after a difficult day. The solution? A blog.

The subject of the blog? Cooking her way through Mastering the Art of French Cooking, the magnum opus of kitchen virtuoso Julia Child (Meryl Streep). As Julie embraces this project, eventually winning oodles of followers and becoming so caught up in it that it begins to put stresses on her marriage, we see the struggles Julia herself went through as she took up French cooking and embarked on her cookbook project with two friends. This portion of the movie is based on her memoir My Life in France.

I’ve found Adams endearing in nearly every role she’s taken on, and while she doesn’t quite have the charm here that she does in such films as Enchanted and Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day, she seems like a likable enough young woman, and I can certainly relate to the desire to make a name for oneself as a writer through online efforts. At the same time, Julie has some negative characteristics, such as a tendency toward egotism, that are amplified by her endeavor, which makes her jocular husband Eric (Chris Messina) all the more appealing. A light-hearted and very supportive man, he truly is the glue holding Julie’s life together.

But even he pales in comparison to the gentlemanly, erudite, utterly devoted Paul Child, portrayed by the magnificent Stanley Tucci. This was a man with an impressive career of his own who never sought to keep his wife in the shadows, who always encouraged her to pursue her dreams. This was also a man with great integrity whose diplomatic views earned him one doozy of an interrogation by Senator Joseph McCarthy’s ilk. It’s easy to understand how Julia would have blossomed so brilliantly when sharing a life with such a remarkable fellow.

The incomparable Streep, who starred in Doubt with Adams last year and The Devil Wears Prada with Tucci in 2006, has been getting plenty of raves for her performance, all of them well-deserved, as she completely immerses herself in the role, to the extent that I almost forget who the actress is behind the portrayal. Her voice, mannerisms, inflections, body language... All of it makes her a thoroughly convincing version of the famous chef, and because she is such a distinct character, there’s a lot of humor to be mined from her story. Julia’s joie de vivre comes across perfectly, and more often than not, her escapades bring a big smile to the face.

This is a beautifully shot film that makes one want to go to France and to attempt cooking French cuisine oneself. Rarely has a movie taken such care to make food look so enticing, so that one can almost smell it as it sits simmering on the table. Of course, there are a few disasters too, and a very funny scene involving an unfortunate excess of onions. But whatever is on the menu, Julie and Julia serves up a treat.

Honky Tonk Christmas Displays Alan Jackson at his Country-est

September 11th, 2001 inspired many songwriters to craft musical responses to one of the greatest tragedies in America’s history. Among the many 9-11 songs that emerged, the one that resonated with me most deeply was a humble reflection that acknowledged how many different reactions there were, condemning none while gently encouraging listeners to consider that “Faith, hope and love are some good things [God] gave us, and the greatest is love.” That song was Where Were You (When the World Stopped Turning) by Alan Jackson, and I have been a fan ever since.

This year, I decided it was high time I checked out his Christmas albums. Honky Tonk Christmas came out in 1993, and there’s no mistaking that it’s a country album. Most of the songs here are unfamiliar to me, which makes it more interesting, and though I listen to this genre of music only occasionally, I find the overt country flavor quite fun, and sometimes touching. One thing I’ve always appreciated about country music is that so much of it is narrative, and there are some great stories to be found here.

1. A Honky Tonk Christmas - A very twangy lament in which the speaker bemoans the loss of a love but asserts, “I’ll be over you by New Year’s Eve.” Too peppy to be depressing, it boasts verses full of amusing turns of phrase. A fun start to the album.

2. The Angels Cried - A lovely duet with Alison Krauss, whose voice reminds me a bit of Dolly Parton’s. Sweet and reflective, it imagines the angels’ reaction to the birth of Jesus. “The angels knew what was to come / The reason God had sent his son from up above / It filled their hearts with joy to see / And knowing of his destiny came tears of love...”

3. If We Make It Through December - The twangy guitars are back, and like the first track, it find the speaker in a rough spot, but the tone is less whiny here, more optimistic: “If we make it through December, we’ll be fine.” Love the banjo work too.

4. If You Don't Wanna See Santa Claus - A slow song reminiscent song reminiscent of Baby, Please Come Home, it’s romantic and morose, begging, “Baby, come back to me if you don’t wanna see Santa Claus cry.”

5. I Only Want You For Christmas - The first unabashedly cheerful song on the album. “Tie a ribbon around yourself,” he suggests, and the implication is that here, he’s asking for something he already has rather than pining away after someone who’s left him.

6. Merry Christmas to Me - But it’s back to the lament with this one, the only song on the album written by Jackson. This plaintive number is drenched in mournful fiddles as he describes opening a present he doesn’t want to give himself and realizing how sad it is to be alone. “Today I took some paper from the closet / And wrapped the wedding ring / You left behind / And I addressed it to the man / Who vowed to love you...”

7. Have a Holly Jolly Christmas - It’s odd to hear this one after six unfamiliar tunes, but it’s nice to have at least one song on the album that most people can probably sing along with the first time around. Pretty straightforward, but I love the fiddles.

8. There's a New Kid in Town - This duet with Keith Whitley is just as lovely as The Angels Cried, with an instrumental bit reminiscent of Dire Straits‘ theme song for The Princess Bride. Humble and quiet, it imagines the Bethlehem innkeeper responding to inquiries about the long-awaited king with, “there’s a new kid in town, but he’s just another baby, I suppose...” The mandolin adds a poignant touch to this tender track, which is perhaps my favorite on the album.

9. Santa's Gonna Come in a Pickup Truck - Alan teams up with Alvin and the Chipmunks for this fun track that, like If It Doesn’t Snow on Christmas, deals with meteorological barriers to Santa making his Christmas Eve trip. Alvin is especially worried that Santa won’t make it; he’s gotten a little greedier since the early days when his wildest dreams involved a hula hoop, and now he wants a 747. Alan tries to convince Alvin that he’s missing the point of Christmas, but his efforts don’t have much effect... “Santa's comin’ in a pickup / Instead of his trusty sleigh. / He'll have a truck instead of reindeer / To carry him on his way...”

10. Please Daddy (Don't Get Drunk This Christmas) - This is one of my favorite John Denver Christmas songs just because the subject matter is so unusual. Really, it’s quite a depressing song, but at least it leaves us with the possibility that Daddy will take heed this time around. The lyrics are a downer, but the music, with the honky tonk piano and lively fiddle, is unfailingly chipper, making it a good bookend for the opening track. And if somebody takes the message to heart, so much the better. “Just last year when I was only seven / (Now I'm almost eight, as you can see) / You came home a quarter past eleven / And fell down underneath our Christmas tree...”

In 2002, Alan Jackson released a more traditional Christmas album entitled Let It Be Christmas, and I’m anxious to check that one out as well. It’s more along the lines of what I usually listen to. But I love the unique flavor of Honky Tonk Christmas, and I’d be glad to deck my halls to the tune of those banjos and fiddles this December and the next.

September 11, 2001: Remembering Through Pictures

On the second anniversary of the massive tragedy that shook America, I find myself somber and looking for a way to appropriately commemorate the occasion. I woke up this morning to Good Morning America, just as I did two years ago. Today I watched as they replayed the unfolding of events that came into play just moments after I had left the house for school. Today’s was a special program, dedicated entirely to remembrances of that day and profiles of survivors. Going into the 9:00 hour, the children of those who died that day were reading off the names of the victims, a very poignant tribute.

Therefore, while I reflect upon that tragic day myself, I present a volume that captures all of the history and emotion of that day in a moving and compelling manner. Life’s One Nation: America Remembers September 11, 2001 is a commemorative book that all Americans would do well to have on their shelves. The cover itself is remarkable: an American flag made up of tiny portraits of September 11 victims. The back cover, meanwhile, features the photograph of one of the brave firefighters who became such a symbol of courage and heroism in the hours and days that followed. The Introduction comes from former Mayor Rudolph Giuliani, whose leadership in the midst of the terror helped give many Americans a sense of stability. Giuliani was almost killed himself as he fled the area of the collapsing towers. His words are strengthening and full of hope: “We have met the worst of humanity with the best of humanity.”

The book begins with a brief history of the World Trade Center and a discussion of its symbolic importance. It then moves into a timeline of the significant moments on September 11, starting at 5:45 a.m. when Mohammed Atta passed through the security check in the airport and ending at 10:21 p.m. when President Bush ended a security meeting and retired for the night. This 60-page section is punctuated by dozens of crisp, dramatic pictures, such as the New York skyline as the second plane approached and just as it hit, the evacuation of those in the tower, their collapse, the dust-covered people fleeing the vicinity, President Bush being informed of the second plane’s attack while visiting a second-grade class, and the Pentagon burning. It also features a map of the attacking planes’ routes.

The next section features photographs taken by photographer James Nachtwey on September 11. He was awakened when the first plane hit and ran towards the WTC in order to capture the destruction on film. The next pages deal with the aftermath of the attack, from the widespread destruction near the Towers to the swelling of patriotism in the American public. Following this are some profiles of individuals who went beyond the call of duty on that day. These include Todd Beamer, Jeremy Glick, Tom Burnett, and Mark Bingham, the men who attempted an overthrow of the Flight 93, which crashed in Pennsylvania, and many emergency workers, including canines.

Faces of Ground Zero contains full-page photographs of those in close proximity to the attacks, from firefighters and WTC workers to high school students and former Mayor Giuliani. These moving photographs are accompanied by reflections by each subject. The next portion is dedicated to reflections from accomplished writers. Elsewhere, poems by Maya Angelou and Gordon Parks inspired by September 11 are featured. The book ends with The New Normal, featuring poignant photographs of people continuing with their lives in the wake of the national tragedy.

The factual information in One Nation is fascinating and the reflections moving, but most powerful of all are the photographs, for which Life is so well known. These images capture every possible aspect of that day: the destruction, fear, heartache, compassion, heroism… It’s all in these pictures, leaving owners of this nearly 200-page coffee table book an indelible record they can return to on days such as this. As they page through the photographs, they will see a testament to the powers of hatred and love. Let love win the day.

I Do Not Attempt to Deny that I Esteem Miss Austen Greatly

I was a junior in college in the fall of 2001, laboring away in a number of challenging courses required for my major. Perhaps the most difficult but also the most enjoyable was The Canon and its Critics, taught by my esteemed professor Dr. Gregory Morris. When 9-11 struck, our class had just begun to immerse itself in Paradise Lost, a sobering epic that seemed to fit the tumultuous times all too well. It was a bit of a relief to get through Milton and on to something a bit lighter. Next up? Sense and Sensibility, by Jane Austen.

I recall my professor asking a classmate of mine what she thought of the book so far before our first class discussion. “Well, it all seems so petty,” she remarked. True, Sense and Sensibility concerns itself with the everyday affairs of a couple young British girls, never touching much on any of the serious national or global issues of the time. And there is all that frilly language to cut through; I myself found the first hundred pages somewhat arduous. But Sense and Sensibility is about real human emotions, even if they are encased in a multitude of manners and pleasantries. And I think it was probably just what I needed at the time, to focus on the small, often amusing details of everyday life, those little moments that make us who we are. And to get my mind off the end of the world.

Sense and Sensibility was the first of two novels I studied that semester with Dr. Morris that I truly enjoyed. While I expected to love the latter, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, I didn’t know what I would have to think about Austen. It sounded a tad boring, and I found it a tad boring… at first. I found myself reminded of the novel The Princess Bride, in which the author describes a fictitious history with the book he is writing, claiming this is the “good parts version” of the S. Morgenstern classic that his father always read to him. At various times, he would interject with italicized comments indicating what he had skipped over. I figured I could use that here, and I actually managed to get it in the form of Emma Thompson’s masterful film adaptation. But first, I had to force myself to read those first few chapters.

The novel’s key players are sensible Elinor Dashwood and her headstrong younger sister Marianne. Daughters of the recently widowed Mrs. Dashwood and sisters of the elusive Margaret, they find themselves at the outset of the novel relocating to a cottage near an accommodating cousin because their older brother has been convinced by his shrewish wife to take over the Dashwood family residence and share little of the inheritance that was meant for the whole family. Young Mr. Dashwood treats his sisters politely, though without much affection; his wife’s coldness is unbearable. However, the Dashwoods do leave dear friends behind when they make their move. Most particularly, the move separates Elinor from Edward Ferrars, the awkward young gentleman whom she “esteems greatly.” Although Marianne is frustrated by what she perceives as a lack of passion in Edward, she is more frustrated by this emptiness in her own sister. Elinor refuses to admit to being in love with Edward, and Marianne wonders whether her sister is capable of true emotional investment in anyone or anything.

Once the Dashwoods are securely settled in their comfortable cottage, several secondary characters are introduced and the events of the novel begin to unfold. While Elinor manages the affairs of the household, she also waits for word from Edward. When he finally does come to visit, she senses an abrupt change in manner that befuddles her until it is accidentally explained to her by Lucy Steele, a seemingly flighty young woman close to Elinor’s age. Meanwhile, Marianne clings to her idyllic notions of the perfect romance, and it seems that they are about to be fulfilled when a dashing young stranger by the name Willoughby sweeps her quite literally off her feet after she suffers a nasty fall while fleeing a rainstorm in the field. But Willoughby is not all that he appears to be, and prior failures in character catch up to him, leaving Marianne at her over-emotional worst.

Other significant characters include Sir John, the cheerful and slightly daft cousin who invited the Dashwoods; Mrs. Jennings, a jolly old woman whose nose for gossip is especially sharp; the reticent Mr. Palmer and his chatterbox wife; and the honorable and Eeyorish (a word just added to the Oxford English Dictionary - see if you can guess the meaning…) Colonel Brandon. Each adds depth to the novel with his or her full developed characterization. One character who isn’t fully developed is poor Margaret, who probably got the short end of the stick because she was such a youngster. We never get much of a sense of who this third sister is, and she pretty much drops out of the novel altogether towards the end. (One of the questions Dr. Morris wrote on the board on the final day of discussions was “What happened to Margaret?!”) But for the most part, each of the characters has a very important role to play.

Characters such as Sir John, Mrs. Jennings, and the Palmers primarily provide comic relief. The older man and woman are charming as well as aggravating to the young Dashwoods, while the Palmers’ interactions with one another are hilarious. It’s hard to imagine a more mismatched couple, and yet they make it work. Marianne and Elinor each display an extreme of character: Marianne is too romantic, too impractical, too self-involved, while Elinor is too bound by societal rules, too practical, too selfless. While Elinor’s character is on the whole far more admirable than Marianne’s, they both can take a lesson from one another. Their character extremities cause them both unneeded heartache, but their trials lead them to a very satisfying conclusion.

I’m not sure who my favorite character would be in this novel. Elinor is quite a positive role model, a very intelligent, well-mannered, caring young woman. She is probably one of my favorite female characters in literature. I am also, due in part to the enthusiasm of Dr. Morris, partial to Colonel Brandon. His quiet dignity and melancholy elegance make him a striking foil for that handsome cad Willoughby. And sweet, bumbling Edward is just too adorable. How can you not love such a perfect gentleman?

Another positive aspect of this book: It highlights the practice of correspondence, and its sacred place in a relationship. Letter-writing seems to be a dying art, but reading this book made me more mindful of the elegance and grace with which words can be delivered to those we love, and the special significance of seeing those words put to paper. During the course of this unit, we had to give Dr. Morris our proposal for the semester-long Anthology Project, and I could not resist sending mine in the style of Jane Austen. Receiving Dr. Morris’ acceptance of my project, written in kind, was the highlight of my day.

Sense and Sensibility may be difficult to get into, but stick with it. It is moving and hilarious, and it all builds to a rather unexpected but happy ending for our heroines. I had never read Austen prior to this, and I can’t think of a better introduction. Thanks, Dr. Morris. Kindest and most humble regards, your esteemed former student, Erin McCarty. :)

Diamond is a Girl's Best Friend

I just completed my review of Neil Diamond's concert for the school newspaper, and I would like to include it here. However, since this is Epinions and not the school paper, I’m going to exercise my right to ramble. Wherever you see italics - except for song titles - you’re getting additional insight of which my fellow college students were deprived. Feel privileged. (Or annoyed. Take your pick.) P.S. If you opt for the latter, just ignore the stuff in italics.

I've been a Neil Diamond fan for a long time. I can trace my admiration of his music back to the first days of our CD player, when we got our first batch of Columbia House CDs. Simon and Garfunkel made it out of the case first. And though I initially rejected them, within a day I had changed my mind. I became an 8-year-old obsessed. I sang their songs all day, listened to their music incessantly, dreamed I was performing with them. My parents got sick of it. "Listen to something else!" they demanded. And when I did not comply, Dad switched the CDs on me. And Neil Diamond weaned me off of Simon and Garfunkel, bringing my fanaticism to a better balance. I still enjoy his music, and his Christmas album is probably one of my top three favorite Christmas albums.

Still, I have noticed that I have impeccably good timing. Just as I happened to decide to write Art Garfunkel a letter months before he happened to come to Erie, so I happened to discover Cracklin' Rosie just a month or so before Neil Diamond came to State College. My little brother's got me hooked on Froggy (our oldies station), and I heard that song on the radio frequently and fell in love with it. Why? Who knows. Now that I've got it memorized I tend to think it may be a bit...I dunno, raunchy? But I love it anyway. I happened to mention this on the way to school one day as Cherry, Cherry was playing, just before they announced that Neil Diamond was playing three nearby locations in the next month.

So my birthday rolled around, and I should have taken the hint when my brother dedicated Cracklin' Rosie to me on the radio. But I’m so determined to be surprised, I never pick up on clues. So I had no inkling that I would be presented later that night with the news that I was going to see Neil Diamond in concert at State College. All I can say is...yay!!!! And the concert did not disappoint...

"If it’s true, as they say, that music can heal, let the healing begin." With this sentiment at heart, Neil Diamond graced a 10,000 -member audience with an electrifying two-hour performance on Tuesday at University Park’s Bryce Jordan Center. The drama of the performance was greatly increased by the fantastic lighting. In order for that to be possible, technicians had to climb up to the light boards, at least 50 feet above the stage, on rope ladders. Then they had to sit on the structures, which wobbled, for the duration of the program. I tip my hat to crazy people.

Diamond played without intermission, covering songs from all stages of his career. In light of the events of Sept. 11, Diamond’s 2001-2002 tour is decidedly patriotic in nature. The show began with a large flag hanging down in front of the stage. As the flag was raised, Diamond burst into America, a hit which has enjoyed renewed popularity since Sept. 11. Fun Fact: I bought a t-shirt bearing the image of the American flag behind Diamond’s silhouette. The audience gave roaring approval to the song, and when the lyrics demanded "Stand up for America...today!" everyone complied. Fun Fact: When I told my best friend about going to see this concert, she told me her mom has always loved this song because it reminded her of coming to America from England as a child.

Next, Diamond dug deep in his repertoire to sing Solitary Man and Cherry, Cherry. He made a few comments about college life along the way and slyly suggested that the administrators in attendance might see to it that the attending students would be exempt from morning classes the following day. His wit and charm kept his rapport with the audience going when the music was silent. And while his stage presence magnified the impact of his more energetic tunes, the slower songs such as Play Me and Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon flourished under his silky presentation.

The latter, in fact, turned out to be one of the show's greatest moments. Halfway through the song, Diamond selected a young woman in the front row of the audience by beckoning to her and urging her to, as the song says, "come take my hand." For the remainder of the song, he stretched out over the stage, clutching her hand, as she turned varying shades of red and fanned herself with one hand to keep from fainting. As the song ended, Diamond separated himself with an embrace and flopped down on the stage as though he'd just gotten the wind knocked out of him. Another woman in the front row offered him her handkerchief, which he gratefully accepted before singing two songs from his new album, Three Chord Opera, to "cool down." This complete lack of a barrier between performer and audience thrilled the observers, and the unwitting participant in the song got a nice round of applause. This incident prompted me to wonder whether I would be willing to pay - just a guess - $200 for Neil Diamond to kiss me in front of 10,000 people. Hmm....

I'm a Believer was another big winner. The song that became a hit for the Monkees a generation ago hit the top of the airwaves again last year with Smashmouth’s version, which was featured in the movie Shrek, and middle-agers and college students alike knew all the words. Some songs required more audience participation than others. Fun Fact: While we were watching Neil Diamond in State College, my grandma was watching Anne Murray (a concert I wouldn't mind seeing sometime myself) in good ol' Erie, PA. Although I have not yet confirmed this, I feel fairly certain that Murray performed Daydream Believer. And so Dad and I were linked to Grandma by the Monkees. Diamond introduced Forever in Blue Jeans as an old familiar favorite and encouraged the audience to stand and sing along and even go solo in a few places.

Likewise, Sweet Caroline was a stand-up-and-sing-along song, although when it ended, he quipped, "Beautiful job, that was lovely...but...why are you still standing? Don’t you know the song is...over? You mean you expect me to go out there and do it again? I was just checking to see if I had any choice in the matter..." He then took up the chorus yet again, this time with great accentuation on each note and hand gestures to match.

Beautiful Noise was one of the...well...noisiest songs of the night, making full use of the extensive band backing Diamond up. Each section had a portion of the song to itself, and by the time the song was over the audience members felt like they had been transported to New York City, Diamond’s hometown. Yet another highlight was You Don’t Bring Me Flowers, a soulful duet in which Diamond shared the stage with Linda Press, whose piercing vocals have contributed to this song for over 25 years.

One of the show's most poignant moments was the singing of Captain Sunshine, which was dedicated to Vince Charles, a member of Diamond’s band since 1977 who died last year. The other was the singing of He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother to honor the nation's true heroes: firefighters, policemen and servicemen. The show ended with I Am, I Said, one of Diamond’s defining hits. He was long gone long, however, before returning for an encore. A raucous Cracklin' Rosie preceded and electrifying Brother Love's Traveling Salvation Show, and the show officially ended with the lowering of the flag over the chorus of America.

"It's a good feeling to know that I've been able to bridge generations and still entertain such a varied audience," noted Diamond in his tour book. Fun Fact: He also mentions in his tour book that Simon and Garfunkel, along with the Everly Brothers and the Beatles, are his favorite singers. Good form, Neil! That certainly proved true on Tuesday night, and audience members young and old left the show assured that good music never goes out of style.

"I'm Not Scared!"

Finally! I have been waiting for months for my little green buddy to show up on Epinions, and at last he is here, ready to be reviewed. My first exposure to Veggie Tales was the video from which this toy is taken. My sophomore theology teacher, a Catholic priest and all-around great guy, showed Where’s God When I’m Sca-a-ared as an example of how to take a story from the Bible and give it an entertaining new twist. I’ve been hooked ever since. In that video, Junior Asparagus watches a scary movie about Frankencelery and is unable to fall asleep. Seeing his distress, Bob the Tomato and Larry the Cucumber drop from out of nowhere to bring the good tidings that Junior does not have to be afraid. Why, you may ask? Because, as Junior puts it when comprehension finally sets in, “God’s the biggest, and He’s on my team!”

I soon spread my love of Veggie Tales with my family, and while my youngest brother, Nathan, shares my general sentiments about the show, he does not share my affection for Junior. I fear that he finds his character to be slightly annoying. I, conversely, find him to be adorable, and my admiration is heightened by the fact that he, as one of the youngest members of the Veggie team, is often the most virtuous (Dave and the Giant Pickle, Josh and the Big Wall, Lyle the Kindly Viking...).

I was, not surprisingly, thrilled when I saw that Junior had been put into the form of one of that beloved childhood toy, the glow-worm. So it was that he emerged from a festively wrapped package at my twentieth birthday party. Ironically, I am given to understand that it was actually Nathan who twisted Mom’s arm to bring him home to me. Do I have a great brother, or what?

Junior Asparagus is a little fellow. He’s about the right size to tuck under your elbow. Not as big as a typical teddy bear, but my teddy bear probably is about as big in proportion to me as Junior would be in proportion to a toddler. His body is soft and made of light green fabric. About halfway up are his black felt mouth and plastic eyes and green nose. Above his eyes is his hair, which is a slightly darker green and looks like, well, a head of asparagus. Most of this is covered by his yellow nightcap, which is accented by a red pom-pom. The colors are bright but soft enough to lend a sleepy air to Junior.

His most endearing feature is his light-up eyes, accompanied by music. Squeeze him close, and his eyes will glow gently and he will announce, “I’m not scared!” before humming the tune of God is Bigger than the Boogeyman. This lasts only half a minute or so, but it can be very comforting. I took Junior with me when I went to Europe over the summer. I searched for him when I came home the evening of September 11th. Whenever I’m feeling especially unsettled, Junior serves up a quick reminder that I don’t need to be afraid.

Occasionally, he has produced the opposite effect. Junior cannot be switched off, so more than once I have woken myself up in the middle of the night by rolling over on him and causing him to break out in song. This is mildly startling, but far worse is when Junior’s batteries get jostled and his singing becomes either imperceptibly quiet, a series of strange sound effects, or a very slow, low rendition that sounds like some sort of malevolent un-dead creature. This has only happened to me a couple times, and each time the circumstance was easily corrected. Easy solution... Don’t let your brother throw him at you!

Junior takes three AAA batteries which last for a pretty decent amount of time. I don’t believe I have had to change his batteries since I got him in February. I would recommend Junior for anyone, young or old, who enjoys him on Veggie Tales. Glow-worm appreciators may also find themselves easily attached to him. He’s cute and comforting, and I as a college student am not ashamed to give him my highest recommendation.

Step Aside, Sergeant Pepper!

I awoke Tuesday morning to the strains of Simon and Garfunkel emanating from the television. I was eerily reminded that my day exactly three weeks before had begun with finding them in the news. My normally cloudy morning personality was downright stormy, and Dad pointed out an article in that day’s newspaper about their new compilation album. It did succeed in making me smile, and soon I was watching Good Morning America from the kitchen, semi-ready to face the day. Had I known what the day had in store, I may have followed my first instincts and stayed in bed... So here it was, three weeks to the day, my dad headed to a meeting he had last attended on the 11th, and I was getting a creepy sense of deja-vu. I was relieved to discover upon the close of the evening that history had not repeated itself.

But the haunting melody remained. “Time it was, and what a time it was, it was / a time of innocence, / a time of confidences. / Long ago it must be, / I have a photograph. / Preserve your memories, / they’re all that’s left you.” It was played in memory of two sisters who perished in a tornado that struck the University of Maryland. Simon and Garfunkel was their favorite group, Bookends their favorite song. And what a powerful reminder to us all to cherish each moment. Thousands of people now have only photographs of the loved ones they lost on September 11th. The magnitude of that event was such that it robbed an entire nation of its innocence. Whether it is terrorism or a tornado, life can be snatched away with no warning. Perhaps we will be more inclined to appreciate that now.

Bookends is Simon and Garfunkel’s most unique album. I once read that when Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band came out, Paul Simon was depressed because he was convinced nothing Simon and Garfunkel could do would ever come close. Luckily for us, he turned that jealous awe into resolve, and he and Art Garfunkel emerged with one of their strongest albums, only slightly surpassed by Bridge Over Troubled Water.

The album has the feel of a single, with one side that is what the record is all about and another that fills up the available time with good music that isn’t really what people bought the album for. Bookends is all about side one, and the five songs which fill the second side just make the album all that much more worth buying.

The first of these is Fakin’ It, a rather hard-edged song about being thrown into a destiny that isn’t really yours. Spoken apparently from Paul’s perspective, it presents the notion that he happened to be dropped into the right place at the right time and that he got all this fame by mistake. He muses, “Prior to this lifetime / I surely was a tailor.” I suppose the same would apply to Art as well, though the profession might be different. It’s not on my list of favorite Simon and Garfunkel tunes, but it does provide food for thought.

Next up is Punky’s Dilemma, whose tone is the exact opposite of Fakin’ It. Very lazy and laid back, it was written to be a part of the soundtrack for The Graduate but never made it in. It is quite silly to begin with. “I wish I was a Kellogg’s cornflake, / floatin’ in my bowl, takin’ movies.” “I wish I was an English muffin, / ‘bout to make the most out of a toaster.” But the third verse qualifies the first two, indicating that the speaker is daydreaming about being in these bizarre situations because he is about to be shipped off for military duty. He wishes he didn’t have to go, and he can sympathize with the draftee who does not feel himself bound by honor and chooses to act upon his escapist wishes rather than risk his life fighting in a war he doesn’t believe in.

Speaking of The Graduate, next up is Mrs. Robinson, the only song featured in prominence in the film that was not taken from a previous album. In the movie, it only had a chorus, but now there are verses which lend further insight into the character of this seductress, as well as the state of events that allowed her affair to occur. The chorus itself seems to be an instance, found in a couple other Simon and Garfunkel songs, of the lyrics saying exactly the opposite of what they mean. They seem to be comforting Mrs. Robinson and rooting for her, but I believe that they are, in reality, mocking her.

The verses further elucidate that she is a disturbed woman in a disturbed society that does not want to admit it is anything but perfectly normal. “It’s a little secret, just a Robinson’s affair. / Most of all, you’ve got to hide it from the kids.” It even implies that she winds up in a mental institution. “Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home.” The final verse somehow manages to be the most powerful, even though it always seems out of place. “Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? / Our nation turns its lonely eyes to you.” Young Ben, like most members of his generation, is hopelessly lost and looking for fulfilment somewhere. His family and his world seem devoid of meaning, and he agrees to the affair in hopes that it will somehow bring him a sense of wholeness. All it actually does, of course, is tear him apart.

Hazy Shade of Winter reflects the theme of Bookends in a much harsher manner. The speaker is young and life is spread out before him, but he doesn’t like what he sees. “Look around, leaves are brown / and the sky is a hazy shade of winter.” Time has already passed him by so quickly. There is so much that he has not accomplished, and the world is looking more and more ominous with each passing day. Verse three is dripping with sarcasm. “Hang on to your hopes, my friend. / That’s an easy thing to say / but if all hopes should pass away / then simply pretend / that you can build them again. / Look around, the grass is high, / the fields are ripe, it’s the springtime of my life.” Obviously he doesn’t believe that. Again, saying exactly the opposite of what he means, and echoing the sentiments of an earlier song in the process. Flowers Never Bend with the Rainfall is a much softer song which maintains a gentle sense of idealism that the speaker can’t quite reconcile to what he knows is true. Hazy Shade of Winter makes little pretense at optimism, and by the end of the song its negative outlook is such that it begins to weigh down upon the listener.

Which is why this side needed another Feelin’ Groovy-sounding track. At the Zoo is especially calm and quiet in the beginning. It does crescendo a bit towards the end, thanks in part to the variance of the instruments used. That, and they’re practically shouting by the last line. Nonetheless, this clever ditty which personifies many of the animals to be found in the zoo lightens the spirit after the heaviness of Hazy Shade of Winter. “The monkeys stand for honesty, / giraffes are insincere, / and the elephants are kindly but they're dumb. / Orangutans are skeptical / Of changes in their cages, / and the zookeeper is very fond of rum.” Mostly just a fun song that encourages us to take ourselves less seriously, and maybe entices us to visit the zoo when we get a chance. Also was made into a children’s book.

Now for Bookends. Beginning with the instrumental Bookends theme, it is a testament to time which chronicles life from youthful angst and idealism to middle age disillusionment to the melancholy of old age before coming full circle to end with the Bookends theme, this time with the words included.

When Art Garfunkel came to Erie last year, he described Poem on an Underground Wall as the strangest song Simon and Garfunkel ever did. I am inclined to disagree. Save the Life of my Child, which starts off this album, is my pick. I guess it accurately mirrors the confusion many adolescents experience as they try to find their place in society, but it sure is bizarre. The MOOG synthesizer is partly to blame. When they used it for this song, Simon and Garfunkel were being extremely innovative. The result was unsettling. The lyrics tell a tale of a boy atop a building, threatening to jump. Everyone runs to stop such an event from occurring, all the while expressing the sentiments that caused the young man to feel the need to jump in the first place.

Their singing here is not very harmonious, nor even melodious. It is largely wailing and screeching and funny voices making comments. Is this all Simon and Garfunkel, with their voices altered, or is it a chorus of other people? The mourning cries of the mother in the chorus which chill me each time I hear them certainly don’t sound like either one of them. When the singers are discernably Simon and Garfunkel, they tend to be chanting more than singing, and it’s not much fun to listen to them because there is so much shrieking and shouting going on in the background. The uselessness of the parents’ generation hearkens back to The Graduate, though this particular song had nothing to do with that movie. Especially revealing is the cop’s comment when he views the situation. “A patrol car passing by / halted to a stop. / Said Officer MacDougal in dismay: / “The force can't do a decent job / ‘cause the kids got no respect / for the law today (and blah blah blah).” He has utterly missed the point, and he is a part of the problem.

The song completely shifts gear at the end, when they announce, suddenly harmonious, that “he flew away.” I can only assume that means that the boy decides to jump, and in the midst of the chaos surrounding him, he suddenly has found peace because he doesn’t have to deal with it anymore. All the commotion of the song up to this point disappears, and the song fades away with Simon and Garfunkel, sounding like a duo of angels, singing “Oh, my grace / I got no hiding place.” All in all, an extraordinarily unnerving song.

America is much more my style. Surprisingly so, actually. This song, which didn’t hit the Top 40 until a live version was included on the Greatest Hits album – an odd self-fulfilling prophecy – is atypical of Paul Simon’s work in that it doesn’t rhyme. I happen to be a big fan of rhyme, and it’s usually hard for me to become very attached to a song which lacks it. But in this case, it was a long time before I even noticed that it didn’t rhyme. That’s how well-crafted it is. I just can’t get over the power of such simple lines as “It took me four days to hitchhike from Saginaw” and “Countin’ the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike,” whose impact is amplified by the simultaneous crashing of cymbals.

This gentle waltz is the story of a young man on a journey, searching for himself and searching for his country. I must admit a preference to the smoother, more lilting version found on the Greatest Hits album, but I heard that first so that probably has a lot to do with it. This version is a bit more guitar-oriented and leans less heavily on Art’s vocals. But either way, it’s a great song, a song worthy of being broadcast on ABC News a couple weeks ago behind footage of America finding its way to its feet. Its boundless idealism and sense of adventure balances out the despair of Save the Life of my Child, leaving an opening for the next phase of the album.

Overs shows the life of a middle-aged couple embroiled in mediocrity. Nothing is exciting or enjoyable anymore, and each is hopelessly bored with the company of the other. Complacency is the only thing that keeps them going. Both Overs and Old Friends have the same type of format, beginning and ending with Paul’s voice in prominence with a contemplative bridge sung by Art. In Overs, Paul begins by saying how all the zest has been sucked out of life. “...There’s no laughs left because we laughed them all, / and we laughed them all in a very short time...” When Art picks up the bridge on that note, the Bookends theme of time’s fleetingness is strongly stated. “Time is tappin’ on my forehead, / hangin’ from a mirror, / rattlin’ the teacups...”

Reminders are everywhere. Life is passing by, and here they are stuck in this unfulfilling relationship. “I’m habitually feelin’ kinda blue” packs a powerful whallop and drives home the central mood of the song. But when it comes right down to it, this couple is, to borrow a favorite line from Billy Joel, “sharing a drink they call loneliness, / but it’s better than drinkin’ alone.” They’d rather be miserable together.

Voices of Old People is almost universally agreed upon as the least successful track on the album. It is not a song but rather a montage of observations and reminisces by elderly folks interviewed by Art Garfunkel. It is very muffled and difficult to understand most of the time, and if each song on the album is a painting, this track is a collage. But it provides a nice transition into the final song on the album, which segues directly into Bookends.

Old Friends is, oddly enough, my thirteen-year-old brother’s favorite Simon and Garfunkel song. It is steeped in melancholy, yet its poignancy contains a sweetness as well. The almost Rockwellian vision is built on a series of carefully placed images. The song begins with the imperceptible humming of violins which swells when Paul’s wistful voice starts to set the scene. “Old friends / sat on their park bench like bookends...” Just before the song turns inward with Art’s ruminating bridge, the two sing together the most poignant line of the song. “...Lost in their overcoats, / waiting for the sunset...” Not only are they sitting together in order to watch the sunset, they are approaching the sunset of their own lives together. When Art sings, “Can you imagine us years from today, / sharing a park bench quietly?” we are forced to consider the prospect of growing old, just as Paul must have when he wrote this song.

As the song melts away into the Bookends theme, we realize how precious our lives, our friends, and our memories truly are. This powerful reminder to cherish the ones we love and treasure each moment first came when the Vietnam War and the threat of nuclear attack weighed heavily on the American psyche. Now that the prospect of war once again plagues our minds, let us reflect on the message of Simon and Garfunkel and cling tight to the love we once took for granted.

Three Cheers for Peter Jennings!

ABC has been my main source for news for as long as I can remember. I eat my breakfast while listening to the latest feature on Good Morning America, which presents a balanced mix of hard news, fun stuff, and everything in between. I was, in fact, watching GMA on Tuesday, September 11. Charlie Gibson interviewed a young woman who had been raped while studying abroad. They had a feature on a man working for the Ugly Modeling company, after which Tony Perkins proclaimed, "Sign me up!" Charlie teased Diane Sawyer about the notes she had written on her hand in ink. And somewhere in there, I'm sure someone said something about Gary Condit. It was a typical morning at ABC.

I left the house at 8:15 and worked on the computer at school before going to class. I never saw the normal morning turn disastrous and deadly. I just heard at the beginning of class that some planes had crashed into the World Trade Center. When I left at 10:45, I joined the throng watching ABC in our school cafeteria. I then learned that the Pentagon had been hit, and my chest tightened. It would be several hours before I allowed myself to consider the full implication of this news.

I was reminded of the death of Princess Diana. I was reminded of the fiasco with the 2000 election. And I was reminded just how important television journalism has become. I stared at the screen for the next 45 minutes, watching the terror unfold. And yet, in the midst of the chaos, there was calm as the network made a coordinated effort to keep us abreast of the situation without causing us to fly into a panic.

I don't know how they did it. To be so close and to have to set aside their own fears and sorrow for the sake of our sanity... I admire the strength of every journalist, every photographer, every correspondent, every anchor. But one face stands out above all the rest. Peter Jennings. Somehow, as I kept my eyes glued to the television for the next week, he was always there. Always the model of composure, he stood at the helm and guided us through the days of uncertainty. Showing just enough of his emotion for us to realize how hard this must be for him, he never faltered for more than a moment or two as he told us what was happening and introduced us to yet another eye-witness or expert.

More than President Bush, more than Mayor Guilliani, more than Reverend Graham, I relied on the omnipresent Peter Jennings to get me through the week. I applaud his professionalism, his fairness, his gentleness. I am not ashamed to say how much I benefited from his forum with the children on Saturday. I have seen the healing power of journalism this week, the positive impact it can have when done well. I salute Peter Jennings and the rest of the ABC News team for their diligence and dedication, working for days on end with little or no sleep, little or no time to release their own emotions.

I really can't compare ABC to the other stations because I depended on ABC. I didn't change the channel. What I encountered was responsible and sensitive journalism presented by a group of people who, to paraphrase my favorite patriotic hymn, loved their country more than themselves. And in their own way, they were essential to keeping this country together in crisis.

America the Beautiful Should Be Our National Anthem!

I have always thought that America the Beautiful was a much more moving testament to the greatness of our nation, and certainly easier to sing, than The Star-Spangled Banner. But I never realized just how appropriate it was -- how appropriate it is especially now -- until Friday, when we sang it at the prayer vigil held at noon at my college. Although the most famous verse speaks mostly of the beauty of America's natural features, the other verses speak more directly of the beauty of the American people.

Ray Charles does, of course, sing the famous first verse in his rendition of the song. His soulful, classy cover of these lines was the highlight of the Superbowl for me. It floored me and stirred up patriotism within me. But when I managed to get ahold of a recording of his America the Beautiful -- which, to be fair, I should mention was part of a regular CD and not a single, which I was unable to locate -- I noticed that he begins not with the first verse, but with the third. I can't recall having heard the third verse before Friday. I recollect hearing the second and fourth verses before, but the third struck me like a bolt of lightning. It was as though that verse had been written specifically in response to Tuesday.

I don't know why Mr. Charles decided to start with that verse, but I'm glad he did. An eighteenth-century French historian observed that "America is great because America is good." I think we've forgotten that lately. We've forgotten that America is full of good people and we've forgotten to be good ourselves. We've allowed our nation to become the one described in Paul Simon's despairing American Tune. But Tuesday's tragedy reminded us that heroism is still alive and well here, and verse three honors those who made the ultimate sacrifice for their comrades. "O beautiful for heroes prov'd / in liberating strife, / who more than self their country loved / and mercy more than life."

Not only did many risk -- and some sacrifice -- their lives, the entire country has shown that we have realized what is truly important in life. We are willing to give up a little of our own comfort in order to help one another. I've seen it in our leaders, who never left their posts during this ordeal, but rather worked past the point of exhaustion in order to bring comfort to the nation. I've seen it in the American flags and other outpourings of patriotism. I've seen it in the playing of the Star-Spangled Banner at the changing of the guard in London and in other demonstrations around the world. I've seen it in the last-minute telethons that raise tens of thousands of dollars and in the mile-long lines at the bloodmobiles. It's here, and we are a part of it.

Charles does not sing the entire song in his version; he leaves out verses two and four, which both speak to us in different but equally important ways. Verse two concludes with "God mend thine ev'ry flaw, / confirm thy soul in self-control, / thy liberty in law." God has already used this horrendous event to mend our spirit and our sense of what really matters in life. We realize now how precious our lives are and how trivial so many of the concerns that plagued us a week and a half ago. But these words are also a warning. We need to exercise self-control and not allow ourselves to be drawn into the downward spiral of hatred that allowed those terrorists to do what they did. If we lash out against Muslims or Arabs or any other innocent group of people who have some identification with our attackers out of a misguided sense of vigilante justice, then the terrorists will have won. We must keep the moral high ground.

Finaly, where the second verse serves as a caution and the third as a tribute, the fourth verse declares hope. "O beautiful for patriot dream / that sees beyond the years. / Thine alabaster cities gleam, / undimmed by human tears." Right now, America is in a very dark moment in its history. It may be hard for us to think of America standing tall when we see the devastation in New York and Washington. But it will, and it has already begun to do so. As Mayor Guilliani said, "We're going to rebuild, and rebuild stronger." A terrible tragedy struck us last week, but the American spirit is stronger than ever. With that burning within us, we will make a better America, crowned in brotherhood. And that is the most fitting memorial for our fallen that we could ever hope for.

Art Garfunkel Sings for America

In 1984, Art Garfunkel began a walk across America. Twelve years and 40 installments later, he completed it. This exquisite televised concert commemorates the occasion. Filmed in Ellis Island, with additional footage from Astoria, Oregon, Across America is a tribute to our country through the words and music of one of our national treasures, Art Garfunkel.

The special begins with footage of Garfunkel walking. As the introductory written narration fills the screen, explaining Garfunkel’s journey, Garfunkel’s a capella version of America plays in the background. The concert itself begins in the Ellis Island Registry Hall, where Garfunkel sings A Heart in New York.

Most of the songs in this programme are followed by a personal reflection by Garfunkel, often accompanied by a hand-lettered journal entry. After this first song, Garfunkel reflects upon the fact that his ancestors came here, evidently staying in New York because they knew people there. The camera shows us the names of his family members on the wall, and Garfunkel notes that he is very moved by this location, feeling the presence of three generations as he sings.

Next up is Poem on an Underground Wall, which, although lacking the memorable introduction preserved on the Old Friends album, is more intense than ever, growing faster and more urgent until the very end, when it slows down dramatically for the last two lines and the instrumentalists drop off before finishing the song themselves. Garfunkel compares the song with The Sound of Silence, explaining that both contain images of "urban weirdness" and carry the message that “something is not quite right here.”

Scarborough Fair follows, with the instrumentalists playing the Canticle portion. After this soothing song from medieval England, Garfunkel explains that his “contribution is to be that kind of singer...to remind people that breath is a greater thing than telecommunications.” In the age of technology and speed, we need to take the time to slow down and enjoy life.

Garfunkel introduces Homeward Bound by giving a nod to “one of America’s greatest songwriters, Paul Simon.” That doesn’t stop him from inserting the gentle jab of “tonight I’ll sing his songs again, I’ll play the game and pretend. But all his words come back to me in shades of mediocrity...”

Following this song, Garfunkel quotes Sol Lenowicz, saying, “Those of us for whom the extraordinary promise of America has become a reality are obliged to find suitable forms by which to express their gratitude.” Although he has worked hard to get to where he is, he acknowledges that “it’s a charmed life” and he is blessed by “the extraordinary amount of good fortune that has fallen into [his] lap.” He revisits this sense of gratitude extensively in the concert’s final selection, Grateful.

In the energetic Cecilia, Garfunkel’s wife, Kim Cermak, looking like a Greek goddess with her flowing golden hair and long pink gown, shares the spotlight with her husband. She adds gorgeous harmonies to most of the songs, but in this number she stands right up front, dueting with Garfunkel. When they are not singing, the two are dancing together, and singing or silent they both seem to be having a wonderful time throughout.

The next song is also a duet, but it comes without the band...indeed, without the concert hall. Garfunkel introduces the song by expressing his admiration for James Taylor, describing him as an “accuracy freak.” In fact, he prepares for his concerts by singing along to his James Taylor tapes. The ensuing duet in the park, accompanied only by Taylor on guitar, is a special treat for fans of James Taylor. Their rendition of Crying in the Rain is fabulous, and their voices are beautifully suited to one another.

In the next segment, Garfunkel explains, “my other half is echo.” He recalls that as a young child, he would remain after school to sing in the empty stairwells and hear his voice echo off the tiles. He would sing Unchained Melody and You’ll Never Walk Alone, developing an early appreciation for those goosebump-inducing inspirational songs. He remembers, as a six-year-old, “loving these songs and loving this gift that God gave me.”

El Condor Pasa comes next, complete with a very elaborate introduction which bathes the stage in red light and cats a psychedelic aura on the old favorite which Garfunkel sings beautifully. Percussionist Tommy Igoe and synthesizer player Davis Biglin are especially essential to the instrumentation here.

The mathematician in Garfunkel is evident in the next segment, in which he notes that there is a particular viaduct in New York that he likes to stand under to get a nice echo. Pondering why it is that he seems to get the most perfect echo in that particular spot, he wonders if it might be because the shape of the roof of his mouth matches the shape of the roof of the viaduct, so that roof is a larger version of that first chamber of his mouth. “I’m a little nutty that way,” he shrugs.

Two of his biggest solo hits follow, the first segueing directly into the second. All I Know, replete with the astounding pianism of Warren Bernhardt, is gorgeous, and although Garfunkel does not sing the dramatic bridge (“It’s a fine line between the darkness and the dawn...”) Bernhardt and the others play it perfectly. Bernhardt surrenders the instrumental spotlight to guitarist Eric Weissberg for Bright Eyes, the haunting theme song of the animated film Watership Down. This particular tune is quite possibly my favorite from Garfunkel’s solo repertoire, though several others compete for that honor.

In the segment before Garfunkel’s trademark, he references Plato, noting how Plato believed that in Heaven was the model of perfection for everything on Earth. Accordingly, Garfunkel has an image in his mind of the perfect performance of Bridge Over Troubled Water, and he chases after it each time he sings it, always keeping in mind the basic idea of a friend being there during a difficult time. The audience is certainly appreciative of his efforts, and his amazing rendition of the song he has some to be most known for is rewarded with a standing ovation from teary-eyed fans.

Now it’s time to bring up Paul again, addressing that ever-looming question of why the two ever broke up. Garfunkel doesn’t provide much of an answer, but his witty explanations provide clues to the tension that existed within the duo. Could it be because, in the beginning, Garfunkel wanted to call the group Garfunkel and Simon? Could it be because Garfunkel suggested a slight change to Mrs. Robinson, from “Jesus loves you more than you may know, whoa, whoa, whoa” to “Jesus loves you more than you ever knew, woo, woo, woo”? I guess we’ll never know, but the audience is happy to indulge Garfunkel as he changes the lyric in his own performance.

Feelin’ Groovy is an extra special treat because of the young man who appears to assist Garfunkel in the singing of the song. Six-year-old James Garfunkel, wearing a look of apparent utter befuddlement that most likely is merely an attempt to see under the bright glare of the stage lights, joins his father in the second verse, already demonstrating that his physical appearance is not all he inherited from his dad. He may not quite have mastered controlling his voice on those high notes, but he comes awfully close. Something tells me that when he joins his dad for concerts today, the pitch is perfect throughout and he doesn’t waver much at all. I look forward to seeing whether James decides to follow in Art’s footsteps; from what I’ve seen, I’d say it’s entirely possible.

As the concert winds down, Garfunkel introduces April, Come She Will as “pure nostalgia, back to the days when Paul and I were kicking around London,” and calls it “one of Paul’s sweetest poems about time.” This, like For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her, was always an Art-intensive song, and it sounds as perfect here as it did when it first hit the LP.

Garfunkel’s next segment continues to talk about Paul, recalling that when he crossed the Mississippi River he was thinking about Paul and imagining the two of them as Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer crossing the river on a raft. “Our development as teenage kids had so much to do with each other,” he continues, “that we became the people we are through that friendship.” The Sound of Silence is the final Paul Simon song in this concert, and Garfunkel and the band perform it masterfully, building up to a dramatic ending.

Before the final stage performance, Garfunkel reads his poem Durations, which appeared in his 1988 book of poetry, Still Water. Finally, Grateful wraps up a wonderful evening by expressing the sentiments of having been blessed and feeling God’s presence throughout life. As the chorus says, “Grateful, grateful, truly grateful I am. Grateful, grateful, truly blessed and duly grateful.”

The final image to fill the screen before the credits roll is another Garfunkel poem, also included in Still Water: “Write the poem out loud / Authorize the heart / Burn the Bridge / And be the work of art!” The credits then roll down the screen to the background of Art Garfunkel singing Goodnight, My Love, which is complemented especially well by the smooth playing of saxophonist Michael Brecker.

I own Across America on DVD, which provides the bonus of a discography and biography. Other than that, I believe the video and DVD are the same. I would heartily recommend this to any Art Garfunkel fan. It feels like you’re right there at the Registry Hall, watching him live. And although there is nothing quite like the thrill of actually being in attendance at a concert, this video does offer one advantage that the concert cannot; you get close-ups of his face.

Garfunkel is a very expressive person, so sit back and observe his facial expressions as he sings. I especially enjoy watching his mouth as he hits the high notes and as he finishes singing. Additionally, there is some lovely footage of New York and Oregon, and this enhances the experience as well.

My only complaint is that three of my favorite songs from the two concerts I attended are absent. As far as I know, Art Garfunkel has yet to record American Tune solo. Both the Paul Simon version and the Simon and Garfunkel version are wonderful, but I’d love to have a recording of Garfunkel’s solo version. It honestly moved me as much as Bridge Over Troubled Water. Also missing is Skywriter, the autobiographical masterpiece written by Jimmy Webb and, like All I Know, featuring gorgeous piano music. The third song is The Things We’ve Handed Down, the beautiful song featured on Songs From a Parent to a Child about the traits handed down through the generations. How about a second concert when the Walk Across Europe is finished?

I’ve been itching to review this ever since I got it, and now I finally have the time. I hope that all of you Art Garfunkel and Simon and Garfunkel fans out there will check it out, and maybe even a few of you who never really listened to their music. He may not sing American Tune, but does sing 17 tunes that all Americans can appreciate.

*** Addendum September 2001: I have experienced varying degrees of distress ever since the attack on the 11th, and now, as I begin to attempt the return to normal life, I've tried to find ways to remember what we've lost. In addition to the horrendous toll on human life which was the most heinous part of this tragedy, we also lost the most prominent members of the New York City skyline. I've been to New York once, and then only briefly to see the Statue of Liberty. I was desperate to see the twin towers, which I had never really taken the time to notice before on movies or television.

And I turned to this DVD. What I found were two beautiful scenes. One features the New York skyline lit up at night as Art Garfunkel sings All I Know and Bright Eyes. The World Trade Center is featured in prominence. Even more impressive was the entire scene of Art Garfunkel and James Taylor singing Crying in the Rain, because throughout the Twin Towers are located directly between them. I found this view incredibly comforting as I watched it yesterday, and it reminds me of the strength of America and our power to overcome even this most horrific tragedy.