This is Us Worms into My Brain…and It Is Spooky.

I must be channeling This is Us. I don’t know why.

Yes, I watch all the episodes. But no, I have not shed a single tear over the Pearson family tragedies. And Barb and I nearly came to blows over my dismissal of last week’s episode. After six years of being ignored, we were suddenly supposed to care about Miguel? I didn’t get it.

So as we sat through last night’s episode (only interrupted once by Cooper’s need to get out of the house) I had my attention split between the show and a leftover crossword puzzle from the weekend Trib.

When I looked up at the screen I wondered why a past son-in-law and a past not-quite-daughter-in-law were part of the family gathering. I laughed at the last-minute arrival of Kate, now an international tycoon.

And then there was the train. As Rebecca in her fugue state was led from car to car, I kept thinking back to Snowpiercer, Bong Joon Ho’s futuristic masterpiece about a train hurtling around the earth, its occupants the only survivors in a frozen world. You never knew what would be in the next car, only that death was the ultimate destination. Did Rebecca have Rip Wheeler drive her to the station…

So with my obvious lack of appreciation for six seasons of This is Us, why do I feel that it must have been reaching across the ether to tap into my brain? A strange thing happened yesterday evening. When doing the dishes and making my lunch for the next day, I often as Alexa to play some music. I usually request something from the classic rock oeuvre (Bruce, U2, Steely Dan, et al.), but last night I inexplicably called for Joni Mitchell. Ever obedient Alexa came through with Joni classics “Freeman in Paris, Help Me, and The Circle Game. And those of you who watched This is Us know where this is going.

Halfway through the Pearson’s goodbyes to Rebecca, they leaf through a box of LPs. The camera focuses on Joni’s Clouds album. And the sounds of The Circle Game fill the air.

Call it synchronicity. Call it an amazing coincidence. Call it witchcraft. I just know it has me spooked. I may not care much for This is Us, but I sure am going to watch next week’s final episode. I think Rebecca is calling my name.

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My Day At Jeopardy! It Was Long Ago, But Feels Like Yesterday.

Linda, Neil, and I battle it out on Jeopardy!

I went on a treasure hunt and struck gold! Or at least a second-place silver.

Frequent blog readers know of my past Jeopardy! experience as a contestant in 1988 and how my single videotape of the airing was eviscerated by a hungry VCR machine. I had thought my defeat was lost to future generations, but a few months ago I made another try to locate a copy.

A wonderful Jeopardy! resource exists at the J! Archive, a fan site with details of almost every Jeopardy! ever telecast, including players, answers, questions, a variety of statistics, and even a lexicon of Jeopardy! jargon. It was at this site that I began my search.

I was able to locate the episode I appeared in, #893, and noted the name of my two opponents, Neil L, an engineer from El Cerrito, California, and returning champion Linda M, a substitute teacher from Elizaville, New York.

I took my info and ran with it to Facebook, private messaging anyone I found who might possibly have been one of my opponents. I asked each contact if they could have been my Jeopardy! nemesis, and if they had a copy of our show.

Weeks went by with no return messages, and I had given up hope when last week I got a response from one of many Neil Ls I had contacted:

“Sorry for the delay, but I just saw the message. Yes, that was me. And that was you too. Strangely, yesterday I stumbled across a flash drive with recording of the game. We were young. Hope you are well.”

Success! We exchanged a few more messages, and by the end of the day Neil L of El Cerrito had come through with a WMV file of our episode. And transfixed, I watched my (much) younger self “perform.”

A few observations:

I made a poor choice of sportcoats
I never was much of a speller–no wonder I misspelled Dan “Akroyd.”
It was nice having a full head of hair.
Were Harry Caray size eyeglasses really in style?
The technology, with banks of CRT monitors, was light years behind what we witness on Jeopardy! now.
Eugene Finnerman, where are you now?
Alex was young, healthy, and helped me out when he pushed Linda M to overbid on a Daily Double she was sure to get wrong.
Despite the claims of my son, at no point did Alex say “Wrong again, Les.” However, he did appear amazed that I got Final Jeopardy correct–just after he had chastised me for “not making it a closer game.”

For those of you wondering, the final score had Neil at $12,100, while I rode my Final Jeopardy success to a grand total of $2,100. But it was $2,100 of fun. I am looking forward to sharing the whole experience with my family.

And to never again be taunted “Wrong again, Les.”

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Man-People Take This Music Sh*t Seriously!

So I am a member of a few groups on Facebook. Groups about my old neighborhood, my new neighborhood, my schools, my occupation. And a handful about my love of music.

In one of the groups, people tend to ask questions like “name your favorite bass guitarist,” or “name a song with the letter Q in the title.” On occasion, I will volunteer an answer, and on rarer occasions, I will ask a question. During this past COVID-quiet weekend I asked a question. I didn’t know I was inciting a riot…

My question was pretty straightforward–“Name a song that contains the name of a non-USA city.” As an example, I listed my favorite Warren Zevon number, Lawyers, Guns and Money which includes the lyric “I was gambling in Havana.”

Pretty easy stuff, I thought. Not a trick question, not controversial. To my chagrin, I learned there is nothing in the cyber world that is not controversial. And nothing that can’t make people angry.

Sure, lots of people gave uncomplicated answers. No surprise how many people named Werewolves of London, another Warren Zevon track. Our great distaff vocalists were represented by songs such as Joni Mitchell’s Free Man in Paris (no one mentioned the Neil Diamond version!) And lots of other songs with non-USA cities in either song titles or lyrics were fun to reminisce about. The Comments reached into the many hundreds.

But then the arguments began. Everyone loves The Girl from Ipanema, but is Ipanema a beach, an area, or a city unto itself? Loads of people weighed in on that one–supporting their claims with Google maps and guidebook quotes. At least that debate was peaceful.

The fury rose when many people listed songs naming non-USA countries, but not cities. Songs like Never Been to Spain and Haitian Divorce. I will admit that for the first few minutes, I replied to posters pointing out the error, but after a while, I decided what the heck–let ’em list what they want to list and have fun. It’s not like I am giving away any prizes!

Yet one or two individuals assigned themselves to be the scourages of the list, pointing out every misattributed song, every spelling error, and every country-not-a-city-error.

The vitriol rose to a boil when discussing Back in the USSR, the Beatles rocker from The White Album. When Mr. Blue Pencil incorrectly* told a poster the song didn’t belong on the list, all hell broke loose. Name-calling, cussing, and sacrilegious comments followed in short order. WTF?????

I have learned my lesson. In an effort to avoid furor in the future, I think I will avoid hot-button topics like music in future postings and stick to less controversial topics.

Does anyone want to talk about changing the Senate filibuster rules?

*Moscow is mentioned in the lyrics.

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Holmes is Where the Heart Is

After hearing that I had enjoyed watching Benedict Cumberbatch in The Year of the Dog my brother-in-law recommended that I watch Mr. Cumberbatch in the Sherlock TV series. I haven’t checked off that box yet, but the mention did set off memories of Sherlock Holmes, and of one heavyweight book that I used to own.

The book was almost as thick (over 1100 pages) as the title was long —The Complete Sherlock Holmes: All Four Novels/All Fifty-Six Adventures. It was a Bar Mitzvah gift from a good friend who was also a lover of mysteries and the written word. Much of my 13th year was spent devouring every word of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s 60 pieces of the Holmesian mythos. And unlike Elizabeth, the current Holmes in the news who claimed to solve blood chemistries from a tiny drop of blood, Sherlock really did make much out of little, solving crimes from the smallest piece of evidence.

A Study in Scarlet, The Red-Headed League, The Hound of the Baskervilles. Famous stories, and names I remember so well. Yet I couldn’t tell you the plot or the denouement of any of them. In fact, the part of the volume I remember the best is the forward — a few pages that were written by an American Holmes aficionado, Christopher Morley.

While I read each story once, I must have read that forward fifty times. It is odd, but my mental picture of Holmes was penned more by Mr. Morley than by Sir Conan Doyle. And just to be sure my memories were accurate I tracked down the four-page forward online. As I read it this morning I was quite impressed with my own recall. There were paragraphs that I could recite almost word for word. I wish I could say the same for my Torah portion from that long ago Bar Mitzvah!

As for my friend who gave me the book, we are still in touch, although he lives across the country. A movie critic and college lecturer, he still acts as the post hoc unpaid editor for this blog, taking up the slack when Grammarly fails me. One day I will have to ask him which one of the dozens of actors who have portrayed Sherlock Holmes have been the best. And thank him for that gift from so long ago.

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If All The World’s A Stage, What Are Your Theater Memories?

Taking a few days off from the lab the days before Thanksgiving gave us an extended period to work on our first puzzle of the season. From the three I had recently ordered, I chose “Broadway, The Musicals,” a tapestry of tens (hundreds?) of Broadway shows.

The puzzle wasn’t the most difficult we have tackled, and we were able to free up our kitchen table/puzzle space in plenty of time to have the whole family seated at the table Saturday night for 2nd Thanksgiving (akin to 2nd Seder but without the matzah.)

We ended up missing half a dozen pieces, a shortcoming we attribute to Cooper’s nasty habit of gobbling up any piece hanging over the table edge. Even so, we had a pretty good sense of what show or personality each rectangle was demonstrating.

There were lots of musicals we have seen and enjoyed: a handful on Broadway (Phantom, revivals of Hair and Oklahoma!), a few (Wicked, Les Miserables, A Chorus Line, Blue Man Group) downtown or in the city, too many to count at the Marriott Lincolnshire, and even one (42nd Street) at sea. And in the left lower quadrant I got a reminder to order tickets for The Music Man when it opens on Broadway with Hugh Jackman as Professor Harold Hill.

My favorite–the greatest of all American musicals, My Fair Lady— somehow didn’t make the cut, but maybe someday I will find a loverly puzzle of just Liza, ‘enry ‘iggins, and the rest of the gang. No Hamilton either, making our kitchen the only Lin-Manuel Miranda Free Zone in the Chicago metro area.

So do you see any of your favorites in the puzzle? Leave a comment–think of it as a tribute to Steven Sondheim. Are there some obscure shows highlighted that we might not have recognized? And what are your favorite theater memories? Shows you have seen, shows you have performed in your high school or later days, shows you can’t get enough of? Tell me all about it.

Looking forward to reading your comments on the blog or on Facebook. To quote the Bard:

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts.
~William Shakespeare

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We Will Miss You, Alex

RIP Alex Trebek -- photo courtesy of the Chicago Tribune. — RIP Alex Trebek — photo courtesy of the Chicago Tribune.

RIP Alex Trebek. Below is a repost of my blog from 2018, before we knew of Mr. Trebek’s illness.

There have only been two hosts of Jeopardy! that mattered. Art Fleming gave the answers on most of the original run, and Alex Trebek has been the man behind the podium on the current version since the show’s reinception in 1984. Mr. Trebek’s current contract expires in 2020, and he has hinted that after 36 years and thousands and thousands of shows, that might be the time for him to retire. He has also suggested two potential replacements, hockey announcer Alex Faust, and broadcaster Laura Coates.

Hogwash! If the answer is “This person would be the ideal next host of Jeopardy!” the question is “Who is ME!” Think about it. Appearances on both Jeopardy! and It’s Academic have shown I know what it takes to be tested under those hot TV lights without breaking a sweat. Ok, those were both decades ago, and I didn’t win on either show, but in my opinion, I have only improved with age. And my almost appearance with Steve Harvey on Family Feud should be enough to prove I’ve still got that cool under pressure style.

About physical appearance. Fans of Jeopardy! just want a host that won’t make them shudder each time they tune in. I think I can pass that bar. And thanks to Mr. Trebek, the audience has gotten used to a well groomed white-haired host. I have the hair color and style to match. I even have a Bangkok tailor so I can order as many fitted suits as I need for the multiple shows taped on one day.

How about a voice that gets attention and demands and commands respect? I served my six years as Board of Education President and kept those unruly crowds of unhappy parents in check. And I never had to raise my voice. They all just listened. (True confession: The crowds weren’t really unruly or unhappy, they were mostly at our meetings to see their kids get awards and honors.)

Oh, one more thing. I promise not to pretend I know all the questions to all the answers. The players should be the stars of the show. And even if they are not at all brilliant, charming, or funny I promise not to embarrass them. It’s probably their life’s dream to be holding that buzzer! Who wants to crash those dreams?

So Sony Television, give me a call. I won’t let you down.

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Did Hugh Downs Make Me What I Am Today?

My boyhood TV hero died this week. You probably think I am talking about Carl Reiner, who passed away June 29th. After all, Reiner created The Dick Van Dyke Show, one of my favorite TV shows of all time. But as a pre-school kid, I just knew the faces in front of the camera, and Mr. Reiner’s portrayal of Alan Bradie, funny as it was, was just a small part of the show. He wasn’t even as important as always dumped on Mel Coolie. And I could only watch the show once a week; no binge-watching back then. So Reiner didn’t really make much of an impression on me in the early 1960s.

No, the man I watched on TV day in and day out, the man this young kid aspired to be when I grew up, wasn’t an actor or a writer, and certainly no comedian. My hero was Hugh Downs, who died July 1st at age 99.

If you know the name and if you remember him at all, it is probably for his stints as host of Today or possibly 20/20, ABC’s news magazine answer to 60 Minutes. In a New York Times obituary discussing his career, one can learn a lot about his time on those two shows, as well as his years as the announcer and second banana to Jack Paar on Paar’s iteration of The Tonight Show.

But you must read way down to the 16th paragraph of the article to find a brief one-sentence mention of the 11 years Downs spent as host of the TV game show Concentration. But for me, that was Hugh Downs. That is where I met him every morning.

It was a simple game, call out some numbers, match some prizes, solve a simple rebus puzzle, and go home a winner. No need to know trivia, or how much a week’s supply of Alpo dog food cost, or what a survey said. It was the perfect show for a five-year-old with a good memory and an innate ability to solve word puzzles. It would be the launching pad for my life of TV game-show appearances (It’s Academic and Jeopardy!, the Family Feud near-miss) and Password games with friends that are as bitterly fought as a Bears-Packers game in the Halas days. And Mr. Downs was the perfect low-key host. He never got in the way of the game

So Hugh, while I salute all the other great TV work you did, when I write my book Concentration will never have to wait until paragraph 16! I’ll put it right there at the top.

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A Puzzling Broadway Puzzle–Help Us Please!

Can you help us name these shining stars?

Friends, Readers, and Countrymen, I need your help! Like many of you, Barb and I have been looking for indoor entertainment during this long semi-lockdown. Early on, I reported on our jigsaw puzzle near-success (no, we still haven’t received the replacement for the missing piece). We were itching for the opportunity to do another puzzle to break up the nightly routine of Netflix streaming and online Mahjong and Scrabble, but all the puzzles we wanted to get were sold out.

And then…

Last Saturday we celebrated a 6-day belated Mothers Day. All the kids and grandkids on our back deck, each family at separate tables at least 6 feet apart. Each person had their own box from Superdawg (4 dawgs, 4 burgers, 1 chicken sandwich) and all the kids understood that Nana and Baba were off-limits for hugs and kisses, the only sad part of the day.

Of course, there were gifts and to our delight, Laury had found a site that had in stock the jigsaw puzzle you see in the picture above, Broadway’s Brightest Stars. It arrived at Laury’s house in that 6-day gap between the actual Mothers Day and our celebration–perfect timing.

If you have been reading the blog for long, you know Barb and I are huge Broadway fans. In Pre-COVID days we visited NYC theaters at least annually and were planning our next visit to coincide with Hugh Jackman starring in The Music Man. With that trip on indefinite hold, the puzzle serves as a perfect connection to the Great White Way.

But this puzzle is hard! We finished the border and the next interior row, but after that, things have bogged down. When broken down into tiny pieces, everyone’s lips and eyes, and lots of their hair, look the same. And to make it more challenging, despite our Broadway acumen, we are having a hard time recognizing lots of the brightest stars. That makes it harder for us to cooperate. “Hey, Barb, have you seen another piece of the blue shirt on that guy over there?” It would be easier, and more fun, if I knew that guy’s name!

Yes, we know some of the faces. You can’t miss the Man Who Is Everywhere, Lin-Manuel Miranda. Julie Andrews is easy to pick out for an old geezer like me. And though we just missed seeing Ben Platt on Broadway in Dear Evan Hansen we did recognize him in the upper right. But a lot of the others have us stumped.

So I ask for your help. I have numbered each actor, 1-20. Tell me, tell me, tell me who they are. A virtual high five and curtain call to all our helpers.

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Every Dysfunctional Family Is Dysfunctional In Its Own Way. Ozark’s Byrdes vs Offspring’s Proudmans

Asher Keddie of 'Offspring' faces off against Laura Linney and Jason Bateman of 'Ozark'. — Asher Keddie of ‘Offspring’ faces off against Laura Linney and Jason Bateman of ‘Ozark’.

Like most of you, our Netflix account has been getting a workout. After our home-cooked dinner is enjoyed, after our dishes are put away and the kitchen is gleaming, and after our Sudoku-Crossword hour has come and gone, it is binge time. Our usual pattern is to watch a pair of shows, something dramatic followed by something a little lighter to get us relaxed for bed. And lately, both of our shows have been sagas about families on the edge–but oh how different those families are!

Lots of you watch ‘Ozark’. The Byrde family starts out innocent, or at least innocent enough. Marty is a Chicago financial manager, a real numbers whiz. Wendy uses her public relations skills for various politicians. But through the passage of 3 seasons, Marty and Wendy descend into the pit of Middle America hell, dragging daughter Charlotte and son Jonah down with them. Money laundering? Got it. Drug cartels and murders-for-hire? Lots of those. FBI agents with secrets of their own? Of course.

And if you think being someone’s husband or someone’s brother is enough to save you down in the Ozarks, as Tony Soprano once said, “Fuggedaboutit.” Jersey mobsters have nothing on this batch of criminal masterminds and family f*ck-ups. And just for the fun of it the cinematography, especially on Season 2, is so dark that half of the time you can’t tell what is going–you just have to guess that it is something nasty.

In contrast, I bet none of you watch ‘Offspring.” You probably have never heard of it…I’m not even sure how we discovered it, but we are in the middle of season 2. It’s an Australian dramedy, also streaming on Netflix. Once again we meet a family, the Proudmans, a family with issues. Our protagonist is Nina a perky, thirty-something obstetrician who is as romantically incompetent as she is professionally efficient. Recently out of a literally explosive marriage she struggles with casual sex, love-hate relationships, and off-the-wall fantasies. And about her family…

Mom Geraldine and Dad Darcy have been on the verge of divorce for ages. They care deeply for each other but can’t survive together. Sister Billie has a dark past, but we love her so much we want to see her have a brighter future with partner Mick. Younger brother Jimmy falls for every flaky girl he meets, pedaling through the Melbourne streets as the Proudman’s gofer. Assorted hangers-on and baby mamas fill out the episodes. It gets so laughingly traumatic that our dear Nina flees from Melbourne to Baltimore for a few months. You really have to want to get away from it all to do that!

No one gets shot, no one gets poisoned, and the bombs explode harmlessly while paths get tangled and hearts get broken. And through it all, I know I would feel safer with the wacky Melburinians than the wicked Missourians. Nina, you can always bring your hips to me.

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The Good or the Bad–Beatles or Broadway. A Choose Your Own Adventure. Part 2

Beatles or Broadway--you make the choice! — Beatles or Broadway–you make the choice!

Best Songs by the Solo Beatles, or Worst Theater Experiences. You Make the Choice.

I wrote about my favorite theater experiences long ago. But sometimes writing “Best Of” lists get boring. Sometimes I’ve got to let the other flag fly. Can I remember my 10 worst theater experiences? Here’s a shot at it. ((Confession: although most of these shows have played Broadway, we saw most as local productions.)

Ten Theater Take-Downs and Disappointments

10. Spring Awakening. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 2016. Based on an old German play. It should have stayed there!

9. Big Fish. Nederlander Theatre. 2013. If I could have stayed awake it might have made more sense to me.

8. The Merchant of Venice. Bank of America Theatre. 2011. Starring F. Murray Abraham, I was so looking forward to this. But the air-conditioning failed on an unusually hot early spring day, and we felt as if we were broiling under a Venetian sun in mid-summer.

7. Godspell. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 2014. We left at intermission. At least half the audience left before we did.

6. The Pirate Queen. Cadillac Palace Theatre. 2006. Alain Boublil and Claude-Michel Schönberg wrote Les Misérables. We loved it. They wrote Miss Saigon. We tolerated it. They wrote The Pirate Queen. We detested it.

5. Next to Normal. Bank of America Theatre. 2011. On Broadway, Pulitzer Prizes and Tony Awards. For the Broadway in Chicago production., not even a Jeff Award.

4. Into the Woods. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 2006. I know I am supposed to like Sondheim. I try. I really try.

3. In the Sick Bay of The Santa Maria. Goodman Theatre New Stages Festival. 2019. It was short, it was experimental. The tickets were free and still over-priced.

2. Chess. Marriott Lincolnshire Theatre. 1990. Evita meets ABBA in this Tim Rice-Benny Andersson-Björn Ulvaeus mish-mash. My mother was babysitting for the kids and called us during intermission to tell us our son had a fever. We were overjoyed to have such a good reason to leave the theater.

1. Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. Belasco Theatre. 2010. Patti LuPone, Sheree Renee Scott, Laura Benanti, Brian Stokes Mitchell. Too many stars, too much of a hot-hot-mess.

Did you like some of these shows? Or maybe you have even worse theater memories. Tell me about it!

Click here for the “Bests” in today’s double feature.

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