Trip Report on the Bagging of my 21st State High Point

MOUNT MARCY-NEW YORK
OCTOBER 6, 2007

The bagging of my 21st high point was a curious exercise for me in certain ways. I had planned on climbing Mount Marcy during the Columbus Day weekend for quite some time. My original intent had been to fly into Burlington, Vermont, take the Lake Champlain Ferry to New York State and then drive to Lake Placid but airline fares had risen sharply last month and I, instead, chose to drive to Lake Placid from my home in Southern New Jersey, a six hour drive. I got into Lake Placid on Friday and now began the great internal debate as to when I should climb Mount Marcy. Again, my original intent had been to drive up to Lake Placid on Friday, rest up on Saturday and do the climb on Sunday. Sounds simple, right?

Wrong!

In the days preceding my trip the weather predictions I was getting for the weekend were conflicting. The day I drove north it seemed that Sunday would be bad and I would have to make the climb on Saturday. When I got to Lake Placid, I checked the Weather Channel and, interestingly, the report said that Saturday morning’s weather would be good with a thirty percent chance of showers coming in the late afternoon/early evening and that Sunday would have sun dotted with clouds with rain following on Monday. So what did I decide? I opted to climb Mount Marcy on Saturday despite the risk of rain in the afternoon. Why did I do this? Looking back it now all I can think is that I was skeptical as to the accuracy of Sunday’s forecast of sun and clouds; especially considering that Monday’s forecast about rain and fog. My thinking was that if I held off on Saturday and tried for Sunday only to find that the weather was bad then my whole trip would have been wasted whereas if I took the calculated risk of climbing Saturday (and reaching the summit) and be off the mountain (or way down the mountain) before the small chance of showers began then I wouldn’t have to worry about Sunday. Also if the weather proved bad before I even started up the mountain on Saturday then I could use Sunday as a fallback.

This was new to me. I had never taken such a calculated risk before when climbing a highpoint. Looking back the fact that I was climbing solo influenced my decision. If I had been climbing with someone special or with children I would never haven taken such a risk. Also if I had been climbing a mountain higher than 10,000 feet I wouldn’t have taken the risk as well.

I spent Friday evening doing my preparations (buying water and candy bars) to go into my backpack for the hike. I didn’t sleep well that night despite the fact that my hotel room was quite comfortable. I was awake before the anticipated 6:00AM wake up call. I didn’t waste time. I breakfasted at the Howard Johnson’s on Saranac Avenue. (Interestingly I didn’t have much of an appetite. I didn’t finish my eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes. The food was good but I was too anxious to eat it properly. I didn’t have the same problem in the days that followed). I was back at the hotel to suit up and get my equipment into the car.

Dawn had just broken but there were pockets of darkness and low fog in the surrounding mountains. The roads were wet with dew. I left the hotel a little after 7:00AM. Traffic was non-existent. I was listening to Casey Kasem on 92.9 FM playing Jimmy Buffet and Neil Sedaka songs. The drive to Adirondack Loj went swiftly and uneventfully. I was hoping to find a parking spot inside the Loj parking lot and, thankfully, I wasn’t disappointed. Although there were a lot of vehicles in the lot there were still spaces for me to park. (It was a good thing I came when I did because I later found out from a Park Ranger that an hour later the whole parking lot was full). It was about 7:20AM when I parked the car, trotted back to the ticket booth to get an envelope to pay the parking fee (the booth isn’t manned until 8:00AM. You have to use the honor system to pay for your parking tag). I deposited $9.00 in an envelope, placed the orange tag on the rear-view mirror and began to put on my brand new hiking L.L. Bean hiking boots. (Anyone who read my last trip report will remember that I split the sole of one of my hiking boots while descending Mount Elbert in Colorado).

I was still feeling anxious while completing my preparations. Knowing how long the hike was going to be and the risks of poor weather in the afternoon, I was eager to get going as quickly as possible. This, unfortunately, would cause me to make a tiny little error which would not become evident until much later in the hike.

It was 7:45AM when I signed in at the register at the trailhead. Despite the fact that I was taking a calculated risk in climbing Mount Marcy in potentially spotty weather I would not be alone in taking that risk. I would be one of many hikers engaging in the same gamble. It had been a very long time since I had done a high point accompanied by so many people. The vast majority of hikers were Canadian (almost all were Quebecers).

The first two miles to Marcy Dam provided a splendid warm-up for the workout to come. The trail undulated through spruce and other trees painted boldly in bright yellow and red leaves. Although there were leaves carpeting the trail the dense stands of trees still retained their leafy canopy which kept me in a dark shadow even though the early morning sun was peeking through the clouds. It was 8:35AM when I reached the Marcy Dam. The trail (as expected) was well marked and signed. The Marcy Dam is a natural way-station on the journey. Whether you are going up or down, you find yourself stopping at the Dam to rest, quench your thirst or eat or just to chat with the hikers who seem to come from all over North America. I was using my usual policy of hiking for fifty minutes while taking ten-minute breaks. I had packed six liters of water along with six Nestle crunch bars.

When I finished my break, there was a funny moment. A Canadian foursome and I had trouble finding the trail once you crossed the dam. We went straight ahead and blundered into a row of tents. We retreated and found the correct path which turns sharply right after you crossed the dam; hugs the bank of the lake and then makes a sharp left turn. Once we were properly oriented then began the true test that is Mount Marcy. After the Marcy Dam, the trail to the summit of Mount Marcy is lined with boulders which vary greatly in size. Also the trail becomes steep as you ascend. I expected this of course but it is still a stiff realization that you are in for a major workout.

As I went up the trail, I encountered various groups of people. There was David and Lisa, two young lovers from Brooklyn who both worked in the legal profession. There was the Canadian foursome I told you about at Marcy Dam. There were three forty-something ladies who displayed splendid hiking form while climbing the mountain. They navigated the boulders with such speed and skill that they left me in the dust. They were so fast that they took a side trip to Indian Falls before reaching the summit of Marcy. (I later complimented them on their good form). There was also a family of four (mother, father, older son and younger daughter who was obviously on her first major hike since she asked her father repeatedly whether they were close to the top).

My second rest break was at 9:35AM and it was between the Phelps Mountain turnoff and the right turn you make to go to Mount Marcy after you’ve crossed the wooden bridge over Phelps Brook. My third rest break was at 10:35AM and that took place on a large boulder alongside the trail about 20-25 minutes down from the spot where you leave the tree-line to make the final approach to Mount Marcy.

After the third rest break I was really hoping that I was near the final approach to the summit. But when the family of four reached me again, I was disabused of that notion. The father had climbed Marcy before and told me that there was still a lot more trail to come. I was a tad disappointed but realized that he was correct.

Rest break completed I resumed the ascent. The trail got steeper and the boulders became bigger. As I climbed I realized that descending would be a lot tougher than climbing. Still, I soldiered on. All the while the weather had been quite decent. From time to time you could see rays of sunlight filtering through the forest. You feel layers of warm air periodically and then the sun would hide behind the clouds and the air would cool again. I had worn my L.L. Bean jacket earlier in the hike but now had stowed it into my backpack. I was wearing the psychedelic t-shirt I had worn ten years earlier when I had bagged Mount Greylock in Massachusetts.

I was soaked in sweat but otherwise feeling quite good. I kept myself hydrated by having a water bottle in my hand all the time. It took nearly half-an hour to leave the timberline. When I left the cover of the trees and saw the winding, boulder-laden approach to the Marcy Summit, I started making whimpering noises. It was going to be a stiff workout to the very end. Even though I was due for a rest break, I had summit fever. Like I did last year in Colorado I eschewed the rest break and started striding up the boulders. To the eyes it seemed interminable but in retrospect it didn’t take long at all. Exhaustion was playing tricks with my perceptions. After you gone around two bends you find yourself on the final ridge leading to the summit. You see the cairns and the other summiteers ahead of you and you propel yourself forward. I placed one foot in front of the other and at 11:45AM I stood on the rooftop of the State of New York.

Ecstasy gave way to contemplation. I knelt and did the now familiar summit rituals for those of you who have been following my high-pointing career: my trinity of prayers, a photograph of me standing on the summit and pictures of the surrounding country-side. It was then that I discovered the little mistake I mentioned earlier in this report.

I forgot to bring extra film for my camera! I have been high-pointing for ten years now and this was the first time I ever forgot to bring extra film for the camera. (I had taken lots of shots while ascending the trail, figuring I would reload on the summit, not realizing that I had left the extra film in the car whilst in my haste to get going on the trail). I stood there sheepishly, alternately laughing at myself and shaking my head in disgust. Instead of a photographic record of the summit, all I could do was memorize what I saw.

The summit was windy and I quickly removed my medicine hat and put on my trail jacket and balaclava. I got off the summit proper and found a spot underneath the plaque commemorating the first ascent of Marcy in 1837 and which made for a nice barrier against the wind gusts. I finished off a water bottle, munched on a candy bar and rested my legs. There was a park ranger on the summit who kept an eye on everyone and reminded people not to walk on the tundra grass that dotted the summit region. The summit was rapidly filling with gobs of people. Individuals were setting up stoves, taking pictures, making cell-phone calls to loved ones or just chilling out like me. I spent an hour on the summit and around the thirty-minute mark I walked around and admired the view. I remember being most taken by Mount Haystack and its exposed rock formations along its flanks. I remember watching the sunlight glistening off Colden Lake. It didn’t seem real to me at the time. I was still in the adrenaline rush of reaching the summit and also I was disgusted by my failure to bring extra film. When I highpoint, I love taking tons of pictures from the summit to show to people what it looks like being thousands of feet above sea-level. Now I wouldn’t have much proof of my accomplishment.

One summit ritual I couldn’t do was the photo of me holding the U.S. and New York State flags but then I saw two young ladies with a camera-phone and I took a chance and asked them if they could take a picture of me with the flags and then email it to my email address. One of them, a young lady named Jennifer from Buffalo, New York agreed to do so. I got out my flags and posed and she “took” the picture…or so I assumed. I gave her my email address and was led to believe that she had sent it (but so far I haven’t received it yet. Either she was faking or else something got lost and garbled in the process). Anyway, I thanked her profusely and felt better about the situation. Soon it was going to be 12:45PM and I would have to descend if I wanted to beat the potential rains in time. I knew it would be a long trip. I estimated that it would be 5:00PM when I would reach the Loj parking lot and sunset was going to be at 6:26PM that day.

When it was 12:45PM I began the long decent back. I kept my hands free during the first hour because I wanted to use all my limbs while descending those large boulders (some of which were already wet from previous rains). I proceeded slowly and there were times when I had to stop to let much faster hiker go past me. I was struck by how casually some hikers would go down those wet boulders. They went down like kids jumping down stairwells two or three steps at a time. I was convinced that if I had tried it like they did I would have slipped, fallen, broken my hip or tailbone or cracked my skull on those rocks. I chose to be cautious and was fortunate enough to live to tell this tale.

The rains started at 2:00PM, much earlier than I had anticipated. This was a first for me. I had never undertaken a major hike in rainy conditions before; at least not a descent. What struck me was how calmly I dealt with the situation. I realized that standing still would be unacceptable. I needed to keep going lest I complete the descent in darkness like I did last year in Colorado. Looking back on it now I see my composure during the storm as being a sign of maturity. If I had this hike ten years ago then I would have been more upset about being in the rain. (I remember vividly how miserable I was when I tried to access the Rhode Island high point by hiking in the woods during a downpour—my trip report for that high point makes for amusing reading if you’re ever curious about it?). But I felt that I had grown in handling the situation.

Not only was there rain I also heard thunderheads. That quickened my pace. Still, I did not panic. It would have done me little good. Soon I was under the cover of the trees. At the higher elevations where the timberline was thin, I was soaked by the rain. At the lower elevations where the canopy was thicker I had more protection from the showers. The trail quickly became a quagmire and my brand new boots received a thorough soaking of water and coating of mud.

I became a foot soldier squishing through the mud and rocks that lined the trail. I was grateful for those portions of the trail that were corduroyed with tree limbs or planks. I made swifter progress in those areas. As time passed I mentally ticked off the benchmarks on the trail: the turn-off to Marcy, the wooden bridge across the Phelps Brook, the Phelps turn-off. I had two rest breaks at 1:45PM and 2:45PM. I was soaked through and through but didn’t care. Luckily the rains were warm. If they hadn’t been I would have put on my trail jacket.

Time seemed to stand still during the descent. I told myself that if I reached the Marcy Dam at 4:00PM then I would be on schedule. Amazingly I did reach the Marcy Dam at 4:00PM. Even more amazingly between 3:15PM and 4:00PM the rains had stopped the sun was peaking out and I was sort of drying out a bit. I was hoping that the rest of the hike would be done under dry conditions. I rested a good ten minutes at Marcy Dam. But when I began the final stretch to the Adirondack Loj, the skies opened up and it really began to rain. This time the showers were coming down in torrents and I quickly became soaked to the bone again. Those last two miles took forever and I had to stop at one point to make a call to nature. What was funny was that as I (and the rest of the horde) was descending there were some hardy souls (or maybe fools) who were going up the trail!

The skies became really dark and underneath the dense canopy of trees it felt like evening and for a time I debated whether I should use my Petzl headlamp. I didn’t but still….

It was 5:05PM when I saw the Loj parking lot. I was punch-drunk with fatigue but grateful that the hike was over. I went into the Loj. Used the rest room and changed my shoes. As usual I had three toenails that I knew I was going to lose because of the hike but I also developed a blister on the back of my right foot. I had never developed a blister before. I knew I would have to treat it when I got back to the hotel—which I did. The rain had affected my watch so I wasn’t sure when I left the Loj.
It was probably around 5:40PM. I got back to the hotel a little after 6:00PM after stopping off at a Rite-Aid to get bandages and bacitricin to sterilize the blister.

And now to say thank you:

First and foremost to: God in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, Amen; to my cousin Ruth Anne for praying for me on the journey; to the Comfort Inn in Lake Placid. I recommend it heartily to anyone who wants to stay in Lake Placid. It’s perfectly situated to all the key areas of the town. You can’t choose a better place than the Comfort Inn; to the Charcoal Pit restaurant on Saranac Avenue for the lovely meal they served me. Great place to eat! To St. Agnes church in Lake Placid and Father Joseph who celebrated a lovely mass the day after; to David and Lisa for being such great companions on the hike up and for attending Mass with me the day after. Happy trails! Lastly to the fourteen year old kid named Nick who (along with his pal and older friend) works at the Mobil Station on Route 86 in downtown Lake Placid for fixing my flat tire the day after my hike. That kid showed a lot of moxie, character, and good old-fashioned elbow-grease in fixing that tire. Cost me only $11.00. If you’re staying in Lake Placid and have tire troubles go to the Mobil Station! Oh yes, a major thumbs down to Stephano’s restaurant on Saranac Avenue in Lake Placid. Talk about lousy service at black market prices? Stephano’s does it the worst! Don’t eat there. Now that I’m halfway to my goal of forty-two highpoints, I will now set my sights on Nevada which I hope to bag in September 2008. Until then, see you at the high points!

Song: Heloise

Heloise

Heloise sinks gently to her knees
Hands folded carefully, prayerfully
Eyes reflecting life’s disguise

Heloise fills with the breeze
In her ears
Her veil unfurls boldly

We make love in the mind’s eye
Nothing asked; no reasons why
We will never pretend or deny
We leave with tears of our own devise

Heloise lost amongst the trees
Leaves crumbling colorfully, artfully
Eyes projecting love’s surprise

Heloise falls gently asleep
In her keep
Her breasts rising calmly

We make love in the mind’s eye
Nothing asked, no reasons why
We will never pretend or deny
We leave with tears of our own devise

Heloise rides her steeds
Legs wrapped womanly, saintly
Eyes protesting my demise

Heloise feels so lonely
In her pleas
There is an unmet need

We make love in the mind’s eye
Nothing asked, no reasons why
We will never pretend or deny
We leave with tears of our own devise

© 09/18/2007 by Matthew DiBiase

The War in Iraq: The Politics of Delay

The political machinations emanating from General David Petraeus’ progress report on the U.S. troop surge are blatantly obvious if you read between the lines of his testimony. Despite the promises that certain U.S. military units will be sent home in March and July of next year the real thrust of Petraeus’ testimony was his urgent statement that a substantive U.S. military presence be maintained in Iraq indefinitely.

For all the bluster of the “success” of the troop surge the real intent of the surge has been to delay and hamstring those opposing the war in Iraq. For quite some time now the Bush Administration has been fighting a delaying action against its political opponents; trying to buy enough time in order to perpetuate a substantive U.S. military involvement in Iraq and its domestic war on civil liberties in America.

Indeed for all the Bush Administration’s talk that certain U.S. military units will return home in March and July of 2008 there is a pungent smell of politics in the timing of those troop withdrawals. Unless I’m mistaken March is the time for Super Tuesday (the Southern Regional Primary) and don’t forget that George W. Bush’s victory in Super Tuesday in 2000 helped him win the G.O.P. Presidential nomination. What of the troop withdrawal in July? Just in time for the Republican convention.

But is the Bush Administration doing this to benefit those already declared Republican presidential candidates? I don’t think so. Instead I feel these moves are building the ground for an impending Presidential run of President Bush’s brother, former Florida Governor Jeb Bush. During the past several weeks the Bush Administration has been clearing its political impedimenta: the departures of Karl Rove and Alberto Gonzales are prime examples of this. (In the case of Rove, I don’t believe his resignation was sincere at all. I feel that the President is simply granting Rove a two month rest period before he returns for a potential Jeb Bush presidential campaign).

If my instincts are correct I feel that Jeb Bush will declare his candidacy sometime between Columbus Day and Veterans Day this year. I also feel that President George W. Bush wants to maintain a heavy U.S. troop presence because he wants everything to be in place for what will probably be the real policy of a Jeb Bush Administration: a drastic escalation in the fighting in Iraq with the great potential that it will spill over into neighboring Iran.

During the past several months the Bush Administration has been busy coupling Iran to the insurgency in Iraq with the implied threat of a U.S. strike against Iran. It is my belief that the Bush Administration and a succeeding Jeb Bush Administration wants to up the ante in response to its failing policies in Iraq by escalating the fighting in the hopes of salvaging the Bush Family’s political and historical standing.

Just as George W. Bush invaded Iraq in 2003 to make up for his father’s failure to oust Saddam Hussein in 1991 there exists the enormous potential of Jeb Bush escalating the war in Iraq to carry over into Iran solely to salve the wounded pride of his brother George. Such a possibility cannot be discounted. Despite the Bush Administration’s propaganda to the contrary the perpetuation of the Iraq war has been mostly based on image-considerations rather than security considerations.

The surge taking place right now will simply be one of many surges which will make for great political theater but to those brave troops doing the actual fighting will result only in more innocent blood being shed for worthless, ephemeral, selfish objectives.

The worst is yet to come.

The Troop Surge: A Question of Limitations

Regardless of what General Petraeus or the Bush Administration says in its progress report on the results of the American troop surge in the Green Zone in Iraq the central question which needs to be addressed is what will happen when the troop surge comes to an end—which it must do—sooner or later.

Despite the political rhetoric among war-hawks that the surge needs to be maintained in order to continue the “progress” practical military necessity demands that the surge will have to stop so as to allow the forces engaged to rest, re-arm, re-equip, receive new personnel, and adopt new tactics for future battles. It’s an inescapable aspect of warfare. A cursory examination of military history shows this to be true.

When the inevitable lull does take place will violence flare anew thus canceling whatever “progress” had been made before? If so, what will we do then? Mount another surge? And another?

War, by its very nature, imposes an unnatural and harmful strain on those who engage in it and the material the combatants use to wage war. Even victorious armies can be undermined by the successes they achieve on the battlefield. Here are two examples: In 1941 when Nazi Germany invaded the Soviet Union, the Germans in the early months of the invasion achieved astonishing success in seizing vast amounts of territory in Russia against negligible or ineffective resistance but much to their astonishment the German columns were suffering rapid depletion of men and material. The German Army Group South was down to 60% effectiveness in men and material even though their sector had the lightest resistance of all. German leaders were confused by this and finally one of their commanders, who flew over the battlefields, came to this inspired conclusion. He realized that attacking armies were only effective for a certain distance and depth. The Germans armies invading Russia had nowhere near the amount of men and material needed to achieve truly effective control of the endless Russian Steppes. The enormity of their task in subjugating such a huge area of land was the root of the physical and mechanical breakdowns being felt by the German armies.

The same thing happened in 1944 when the Anglo-American-Franco armies were liberating Western Europe from Nazi occupation. Despite fantastic successes on the battlefield, the Allied forces experienced significant slowdowns in autumn and early winter because supplies and new personnel weren’t getting to the front fast enough to sustain the offensives by the armies engaged. There are innumerable books on the subject. The late Stephen Ambrose dealt with the issue in-depth in his best-selling book Citizen Soldiers. Indeed, Ambrose wrote that by December 1944 even though the Allied forces were on the German border ready to invade the Allied combat divisions were only at 50% effectiveness in terms of manpower and that the Allied forces had no reserves at all save for the three Airborne divisions. (This explains why General Eisenhower sent the 82nd Airborne division to St. Vith and the 101st Airborne Division to Bastogne to foil the German counter-offensive during the Battle of the Bulge. They were the only reserves he had available to meet the threat). What’s more significant about this is that the Allies were liberating friendly countries.

The American forces in Iraq do not possess that advantage. They are fighting in hostile territory amidst a populace that does not welcome its presence. There is no conscription to ensure a steady stream of fresh personnel and American industry is not being geared to supply new material to the forces in the field as it was in World War Two. The fact that the troop surge was confined to only one sector of Iraq merely confirms that America lacks the logistical strength to achieve overall success in Iraq and, probably, never had enough personnel to achieve a truly decisive victory in the first place.

When the sad history of the Second Iraq war is written there will probably be considerable documented evidence that mid-level Pentagon officials warned the Bush Administration that ousting Saddam Hussein was a shoestring gamble (since American forces were decisively engaged in Afghanistan at the time) and that the invasion would only work if there was no significant resistance. As it turned out the gamble failed. What’s more insulting to our armed forces is that the President has been trying to shift the blame to his commanders, saying, in essence, that he was only following the recommendations of his military advisers when he invaded Iraq—which I don’t buy for a moment. Time will show that it probably was the other way around: that the Bush Administration overrode the Pentagon’s caveats and blundered into Iraq in a desperate quest for vainglory. (I don't see how any sane military commander could ever have recommended such a strategic monstrosity).

And meanwhile more and more innocent, brave Americans die every day.

And this is progress?

The Iraq War: the fear of Victory

I would like to propose a daring thesis: the Bush Administration does not want a truly decisive and comprehensive victory in the war in Iraq. I base this thesis in view of the facts that, despite the localized successes of the U.S. troop surge in the Baghdad area, there have been no attempts by the Bush Administration to alleviate the enormous strains placed on U.S. forces committed to Iraq brought on by the desperate need for more U.S. forces to serve in Iraq if the Bush Administrations goals of creating a democratic regime and crushing the insurgency are to succeed.

Even though the troop surge has achieved certain tactical successes, the American military has been stretched to the breaking point and is fast approaching a crisis point which could potentially break our forces ability to fight effectively in Iraq. The question is why hasn’t the Bush Administration (in light of its fantastic statements that any pullback in Iraq would bring on more 9/11’s and that Iraq is the front line in the War on Terror) hasn’t insisted on restoring conscription which would automatically alleviate the manpower shortages in the military and greatly reduce the ungodly strains (and that is the proper word for it folks) placed on U.S. Army reserve units which have been forced to endure multiple deployments to Iraq and crippling physical and emotional losses?

If the Bush Administration really is telling the truth about the potential dangers that a withdrawal would bring then why hasn’t it petitioned the Congress and the American people on the necessity of re-instituting the draft in order to insure that there are enough troops in Iraq to crush Al-Qaeda and the insurgency while standing ready to combat terrorism in other parts of the world?

If the crisis facing our country is so potentially horrific then the Bush Administration’s refusal to provide the military with the necessary manpower to meet its impossible objectives is tantamount to a dereliction of duty by the Commander-in-Chief. If a defeat in Iraq truly means mortal danger for America then the Bush Administration must do what was done during the Civil War, World Wars One and Two: restore the draft. If the Bush Administration truly wants victory then it must be prepared to take the political risks involved in achieving that victory. Restoring the draft would be an honest step in achieving that victory. The fact that the Bush Administration has failed to do so can only mean that there is no substance to its repeated cries of “wolf” during the past four years of bloody war in Iraq. It can only mean that the perpetuation of our military involvement is based on more darker, cynical, and ignoble motives rather than defense of our country and defense of freedom. It can only mean that our armed forces, if pushed to the breaking point by our present strategy, will be defeated not by the insurgency but by the political cowardice of its Commander-in-Chief.

Personally, I hope the draft is never restored. I have two nephews: one who is draft age right now and another who will be in six years. I do not want them or any young person to be conscripted to fight in a needless, senseless war fought in the wrong place, against the wrong enemy, and for the worst reasons known to humanity.

Elton John: Sixty Years On

I should have written this blog entry five months ago but, as John Lennon once wrote, “life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans.”

Elton John was my first pop idol. The Beatles had broken up long before I became aware of rock and roll and so it was Elton John who became my beau ideal. The music business has changed enormously (and in many ways not for the better) in the past forty years but Elton in his heyday (1970 to 1977) achieved a stardom that will never be equaled. He (along with his fellow songwriting partner Bernie Taupin) has given the world a collection of music that is ageless, relevant, entertaining, emotive, and inspirational. In the movie of history, Elton John wrote the soundtrack for the 1970s.

I ask myself what it was about Elton that turned me into a devoted fan. Obviously it was the music but what was it about the music? Looking back at it all it was several small but vital factors which, when put together, combined to tip the scales of the human heart in adoration of his work.

First of all, he was (and remains) a magnificent keyboard player. Before Elton John, rock and roll’s best keyboardists were Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis. Elton brought the piano back to prominence in rock and roll. The melodies he unleashed upon the world were unprecedented and have never been surpassed since. If you listen to Burn down the Mission, Funeral for a Friend/Loves Lies Bleeding, and Don’t Let the Sun Go Down you are listening to a grandmaster piano player playing with vim, vigor, and a natural sense for going for the jugular vein of the soul.

Next was his voice. Elton’s vocal abilities have always been astounding. No other artist could offer so many personas with his singing voice. Elton’s vocal talents run the gamut of emotions: melancholy, wistful, humorous, bitter, intense, insanely humorous, and incurably romantic. He could sing gospel, country and western, rock and roll, pop, and classical music. He could sing like a southern redneck or like the English gentleman he is today.

And then there was the way he interpreted Bernie Taupin’s inimical lyrics. It’s ironic that Elton had the courage to allow someone else write his words for him. His partnership with Bernie Taupin could have easily foundered on the rocks but he believed in Taupin’s lyrical genius when others didn’t; still, it was tough going. Elton and Bernie Taupin met in 1967 but it took them three years before they achieved stardom. Please name another artist willing to sing songs titled No Shoestrings for Louise, First Episode at Hienton, Madman across the Water, Texas Love Song (with the immortal chorus which goes “God damn it, you’re all gonna die/Oh God damn it! You’re all gonna die”). And yet Elton John did…and quite wonderfully too.

And let us not forget Elton John the performer. Even when his albums (remember those things?) were no longer selling for a time (1977 to 1982), Elton never let the side down when it came to performing in concert. He could perform with a band or by himself and always his presence filled the halls, arenas, stadiums, and studios with something the world had never seen before or since. What other performer before or since could sport such outlandish costumes or garish eye-glasses or gaudy platform shoes or wigs or hats? Elton symbolized the conspicuous excesses that defined the Seventies and yet was not trapped in them. When Elton appeared onstage with some over-the-top outfit you couldn’t help but smile and enjoy the spectacle (my favorite Elton John costume were the gargantuan boots he wore in the film Tommy where he played the Pinball Wizard—Elton agreed to play the part only if he could keep the boots). He made you want to dress up the same way as well. (I speak from personal experience. When I was kid I would have given anything to have worn Elton John’s insane costumes. I still have the same dreams). Whereas some of today’s stars use excess as a means of separating themselves from the public…with the predictable results and ensuing bad publicity Elton somehow evaded the snares and traps such gaudy imagery could have caused him. Even better was the fact that when you saw Elton on the stage, you were seeing and hearing the real thing. No lip-synching for him. A couple years ago Elton made some waspish remarks about Madonna (and others of her ilk) lip-synching in concert—which drew a harsh response from Madonna) but Elton was right on the mark. Elton never let packaging overcome his professionalism. He always delivers the goods.

But, most important of all, is Elton John the man. Fame and stardom brought Elton John enormous riches and adulation but it also brought those special problems and temptations that devil celebrities. Elton has had his demons: drug, spending, sexual, and eating addictions; moments of insane rage—which biographer Philip Norman called “Elton’s Little Moments” and yet Elton never allowed his weaknesses to ultimately destroy him as it destroyed so many others (Elvis, Marilyn Monroe, etc.) Elton survives, endures, and thrives because he still has that inner celestial fire called conscience. He has always striven to do the right thing. His appearance at Live Aid and other charitable concerts; his tireless work to overcome A.I.D.S. all speak of that character. I remember seeing him in 1987 performing at an A.I.D.S. benefit concert in London. Elton couldn’t sing because he had throat surgery but he could still play the piano. What he did was provide background music while British pop star Kim Wilde (and her brother Marty) performed a heart-wrenching interpretation of Elton’s hit Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word. (That performance was, in my opinion, one of the finest cover versions of an Elton John song I would give anything if I could find an MP3 file of that performance). His performance at Princess Diana’s funeral in Westminster Abbey is another example of this.

Elton John is now sixty years old yet his star has not faded nor will it ever fade. He remains revered by fans of all ages. His life and career are what he makes of it. He remains one of my favorite rock idols and, for that, I am very glad.

Take care! Captain Fantastic (and the Brown Dirt Cowboy too!)

Barry Bonds: The Pursuer becomes the Pursued

For the fourth time in the last twenty-two years the breaking of a famous Major League hitting record has been sullied by the tarnished image of the player who broke the record. The breaking of Ty Cobb’s record of most lifetime hits by Pete Rose, the breaking of Roger Maris’ single season home run mark by Mark McGwire and Barry Bonds, and, now, the breaking of Henry Aaron’s lifetime home run record by Barry Bonds, are obscured by the dark shadows cast by the above-mentioned players.

It’s moot to argue whether Bonds’ record should be allowed or not. Considering the disgraceful silence Major League Baseball has displayed regarding the steroid question it’s unlikely they will disavow the record since it would almost certainly mean an admission that Major League Baseball has deliberately turned a blind eye to the blatant use of steroids by players. (Another key point baseball fans should remember was that another major factor in Bond’s surpassing of Aaron’s home run mark was the deliberate policy decision made by Major League Baseball to allow the ball itself to be loaded up from 1995 to 2002. The fact that the ball was juiced, coupled with the use of steroids are the vital underpinnings for the obscene surge in home runs during that time period. If the ball hadn’t been juiced then Bonds might hypothetically be still pursuing Aaron’s record. It was also the reason why Maris’ home run record was eclipsed as well).

Indeed when contemplating Bonds’ milestone I am reminded by something I had when I was a little boy. I used to have a book titled Great Receivers in Football History. In that book there was a chapter on NFL receiver Billy Howton (who played for the Packers, Browns, and the Dallas Cowboys in the 1950’s and 1960’s). Howton broke the record of Green Bay Packer legend Don Hutson for most receiving yards in a career. Hutson was there to witness Howton breaking the record and after the game he went into the locker room to congratulate him. Howton was basking in the glow of breaking the record and he told Hutson, “I did it. I broke your record!” And Hutson said, “That’s right and, one day, someone will come along and break your record.” To which Howton gave Hutson a look of understanding and comprehension—and as it turned out, Huston was right. Howton’s mark has been surpassed many times and, if memory serves me correctly, Jerry Rice now holds the record for most receiving yards.

But the point is this: Bonds may reign now as the all-time home run king but there are other players who are primed and ready to stalk his steroided carcass. While all eyes were on Barry Bonds, it should be noted at Yankees slugger Alex Rodriguez has become the youngest player ever to hit five hundred home runs. A-Rod has been having a splendid season in what has been a superlative major league career. Although there are other active players with more career home runs than A-Rod they are all in the twilight of their careers and will not pass Barry Bonds. A-Rod still has many years to go and, barring an unforeseen injury or scandal that could derail his career, A-Rod—if he’s willing—has the potential to break Bond’s lifetime mark and remove the stain cast upon the record by Barry Bonds.

And if A-Rod is unwilling or unable to surpass the mark then there is another player in whom I possess the highest confidence in his capability to become the all-time baseball home-run king: Ryan Howard of the Philadelphia Phillies. A-Rod may be the youngest player ever to reach five hundred home-runs but Ryan Howard just broke A-Rod’s mark of becoming the youngest player ever to reach one hundred home-runs and if Howard continues his magnificent slugging (despite missing a month due to injury, Howard is close to hitting forty home runs this season) it is quite possible that Ryan Howard will break A-Rod’s mark of becoming the youngest player ever to reach five hundred home runs and if he reaches five hundred home runs then the next obvious step is to go after Barry Bonds or A-Rod if the latter surpasses Bonds’ mark.

I refuse to give in to despair. Instead I seek comfort in observing baseball’s future and their names are Alex Rodriguez and Ryan Howard.

Play Ball!